#another and likely the last (lying) of the clutter series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psithurista · 2 years

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approach shift pt. seven

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.1k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Angst, brief mention of death

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

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Bear points her spoon at you, her eyes narrowed. “That fucker.”

You wince. You need to leave if you don’t want to miss your train, but the sooner you get off the stool at the bench, the sooner you have to go outside, and it’s sleeting miserably out there.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up again.”

“It’s been over a month. Why are you still thinking about him at all? Guy turned out to be a piece of shit. It happens to the best of us.”

You run your tongue over your teeth. Dirty dishes are cluttered in the sink, and the sight makes your skin itchy, especially with the knowledge of the recent cockroach plague that had befallen the building, but you’re out of time to do anything about it now. “I know you’re going to tell me I’m being an idiot, but I just. I can’t stop thinking he wasn’t lying about everything, at least. I mean, if he was fucking around with someone else, why not just say so? I left that door way open for him, you know?”

She speaks around her full mouth, looking down at her phone. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“I’m going to tell you you’re being an idiot. What’s the big deal with Parker anyway?” She checks off on her fingers. “So he’s tall. He’s got those stupid fucking big brown baby cow eyes. He’s nice.” She injects so much sarcastic venom into the word that you’re surprised it doesn’t slither right out and across the table. “Like you couldn’t find fifty other tall, pretty, nice guys on this block alone willing to rock your shit any night of the week.”

Easy for her to say, you think, glumly.

You’re painfully, tragically fixated on him. You’ve been trying to convince yourself that, logically, most of it’s probably just to do with how much is still unresolved. You don’t have any answers, not even shitty ones.

Of course you’d be stuck on it. Who wouldn’t be?

But despite the occasional waves of fury-tinged sorrow when you let yourself think about it for longer than a few minutes, you just…

You really, really miss him.

You miss the way his eyebrows draw up and together while listening to you talk, and the way he’d always nudge against you when something dumb happened in a movie until you nudged back in acknowledgement, and his terrible one-liners.

You miss how easily he blushes, and how creased his eyes get when he smiles really big.

It’s a disorienting feeling. You’ve been fantasising in equal measure about throwing everything in your fridge at him, and pressing your face to his neck to breathe in the smell of his skin.

You’d get deeper into it, if Bear wasn’t already over talking about it. “I just can’t believe he hasn’t even messaged,” you settle on instead, the small-sound of your voice irritating even to yourself.

She slurps another mouthful of cereal. “Oh shit, they’re remaking Jaws.”

“I gotta go,” you say, throwing back the last tepid third of bitter instant coffee in your mug. “I’ll be home after six if you still wanna have that thing with Chris.”

“Proud of you,” she says, not looking up. “Go cure cancer.”

You wrap your jacket around your lowered head, your shoes clopping loud on the tiles as you rush down the subway stairs and into the dry.

You’ve been trying to make a habit of setting a positive tone for the day on the way to work; a piece of advice you’d gleaned from Googling “get over breakup” one particularly pathetic Sunday morning a couple of weeks back.

The suggestions were embarrassingly self-helpy, and if Bear caught you she’d probably toss your phone out the window.

Now, safely ignored by every other occupant of the train car, you surreptitiously scroll down to tap start on the podcast you’ve been listening to, slipping your earbuds in.

“…it’s important to remember that it’s okay to fall down, as long as we get back up.”

You lean your head back, gently rocking with the rattle of the train. Everything smells like damp ashtray and hotdog water.

There’s a young man sitting opposite you, his legs stretched out into the aisle, reading a paperback. He’s wearing sage brogues with no socks and pants just short enough to bare his crossed-over ankles. You catch a glimpse of the spine: Calvino.

“…each of us has the same dirty geode inside of us, and we just need to polish it until it shines. Your geode is precious and rare, and it is in your hands, women warriors.”

You cringe so hard it’s almost audible, scrunching your face as you hit pause. Maybe you should let Bear throw your phone away.

You look back up in time to see the man across from you quickly averting his eyes back to his book, smiling slightly.

His haircut looks expensive, and you imagine that he’s the kind of guy who’d buy thirty-dollar jars of asparagus and artisan coffee beans for his elaborate cold drip set up. The kind of guy who would probably have an unironic opinion about regatta season.

You’re being unfair, but you can’t help it.

As though he can feel your attention, he looks back up. He smiles again, this time a little more pointedly, tilting his head to one side in a curious, open gesture, as if he’s inviting you to let him in on the joke; whatever it is you’re wincing about.

You lower your face to your phone screen, shy. He’s attractive, and the direction of his smile feels nice, if you’re being honest. But it only lasts a second, and then you’re thinking about a messier haircut, less well-cut jeans, ratty Vans.

You grit your teeth to creaking. You don’t look back up until you reach your stop, slipping quickly past, not slowing until you’re back out under the open, grey air.

Oscorp’s research centre dominates the entire corner of the block. The gardens around the entrance are filled, as always, with visitors taking pictures.

As far as image rebrands go, the garden had been an inspired move. While the tower itself remains staunchly brutalist, the arches of whimsically sculpted greenery bunched around the base soften the lines of cement and glass spearing into the sky.

You hurry up to the main entrance, digging blindly around the clutter in your bag for your ID. You’re not late yet, but by the time you make it through security and up to the lab, you will be.

Nobody looks up from their screens as you finally slip inside the twelfth-floor workroom, letting the heavy door sink soundlessly shut behind you. Doctor Brant’s office door is closed, but considering the entire wall is made of glass, it doesn’t really help your situation.

In an insane stroke of luck, however, he seems to be preoccupied on the phone. His head is slightly bowed, elbow braced on his desk.

You wince, performing a strange tiptoe-dash in your effort to make it across to the other side of the room before you’re noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, plopping into your seat.

Your desk-neighbour Gary looks up. “Did you say something?”

His skin is the same reddish-pale shade as his moustache and thinning hair. From a distance, it looks like he has an unnatural protuberance of skin growing between his nose and upper lip.

“Oh, I just meant, I’m sorry I’m late.”

He looks at you blankly. “Okay.” He turns back to his screen, where he’s entering observation notes into the record template.

“Okay,” you mouth to yourself.

The research program Doctor Brant heads is one of Oscorp’s longest-running, and the position within it had been highly coveted among the intake of new graduates. You’d heard the wistful envy in the voices of other assistants during corporate orientation, and you’d felt secretly proud.

The thing about respectable, coveted, long-running programs however, is that day-to-day, for the most part, they’re excruciatingly boring.

On today’s agenda: heading into the lab for observations, ordering the saline from ops you forgot to order yesterday, printing fresh labels for your third-round samples, having a wrestling match with the machine when it prints your labels wrong, more observations.

You’re frowning down at a page filled with confusing readouts when Doctor Brant’s office door flies open. He stalks out, a folder under his arm. “This is how we start haemorrhaging funds again,” he’s saying into his cell phone, looking harangued. “How many times will they audit before they believe us? This time, it really isn’t us doing whatever this is.”

You glance around to see if anyone else is paying attention. They aren’t.

“I’m coming up there myself. Hold on,” he adds, quickly, furiously, hanging up. He spots you staring and veers toward you.

You only have to panic for a moment about being busted eavesdropping, then he’s pushing the folder into your hands.

“Legal wants this. Can you scan it through? I’ll be out the rest of the afternoon so shred it when you’re done.”

You look down at it in bewilderment. It’s stamped CLASSIFIED, and there is an edge of slightly-curled continuous printer paper sticking out one side, blue-lined and hole-punched.

He’s squinting impatiently at you, so you snap your attention back and try your hardest to look capable and trustworthy.

“Absolutely. Of course. I got this, no problem,” you say, adding a quick, “thank you,” for good measure.

You wait until he’s gone before flipping the folder open.

At first, it doesn’t make sense. Just rows of digital printed timestamps and letters.

Then you realise you’re looking at observation notes. From an earlier incarnation of this program? You can’t tell.

You sit down, leafing through. The title pages are missing, and you recognise none of the non-standard abbreviations. It’s almost as though it’s written in code.

There’s a string of names at the bottom of the last page, but only one jumps out: PARKER, R., pale-faded but clear as day.

You hunch in your seat.

Of course.

Parker, you are quickly learning, is an irritatingly common surname. You can add ‘old research notes’ to your list of things that are now ruined, right under Sex and the City and jazz.

You spend a few more minutes flipping through the readouts, feeling increasingly deflated as the secret meaning fails to present itself to you.

Someone has signed off in black pen at the bottom of each page; just two letters, N.O., again and again, as though taunting you. If you’d been hoping for some kind of excitement to break up your day, here is your answer: no, no, no.

You feed each freshly-scanned page into the shredder, already bored again, ready for lunch.

People crowd ahead of you as you make your way down to the Wellness Centre.

 Part of Oscorp’s public image overhaul had been to re-establish itself as a forward-thinking, people-focused company. As though renaming the cafeteria and offering pilates and handing out filtered glass water bottles could erase the lingering spectre of accidental death and injury left by the last several decades of Oscorp’s operations.

“What‘s going on today?” you ask the woman typing an email on her phone beside you.

Her eyes flick up for a second before returning to the message. “Free plants, I think.”

You decide dealing with the crowd isn’t worth whatever food is on offer. Turning, you weave your way back toward the elevators and spend the entire trip down fighting the urge to dig your phone out of your bag.

It’s stopped drizzling, though the sky’s still grey. You head toward the cafe on the next corner down, right opposite the park, your bag bouncing against your hip with each stride.

You’re almost there when you realise your phone has somehow leapt into your hand without your permission, and you’re refreshing your messages.

There are a handful of new notifications from a group chat comprised of people from school, one from one of your old co-workers, and a link to a video from Bear.

You hold the door open for a girl carrying a tray of coffees, and she slips past, murmuring her thanks.

It’s busy and warm inside, and everything smells like toasted bread. You order in a daze, stepping to the side to wait, your attention back on your screen.

Peter was last active twenty-five minutes ago. You refresh it again, your thumb hovering over the screen, rewarded with the same thing you’ve seen the last thousand times you’ve checked.

i’ll come by to pick you up at 5ish for dinner tonight. may said she’s really looking fw to meeting you :)

It wouldn’t hurt just to make sure he’s doing okay. Just a quick message, to ask whether he’s been sleeping, and to check that he hasn’t got another black eye or broken any bones since the last time you saw him.

You picture him getting home to his empty, dark apartment at two in the morning. Dripping a little water onto the aloe plant that lives on his bathroom counter. Curling up in his bed.

It would be harmless.

Wouldn’t it?

Your head snaps up at the sound of your name being called. You’re scooping up your coffee and paper-wrapped bagel when you hear it again, behind you this time.

“I thought that was you!” May’s smile lights up her entire face, almost as bright as the floral scrubs she’s wearing.

You gape wordlessly for an uncomfortably protracted moment before you manage to reconfigure your face into what you hope passes for a smile. “May! Hi! Oh, my God! What are you doing here?”

“Hospital cafeteria coffee is a special kind of awful,” she says, lifting her hand to show you the coffee she’s holding. It’s in a vacuum-type cup; pink and insulated.

You try to angle your body so your own coffee in its non-reusable cardboard is a little less visible. “Oh, right! Yeah! Of course!” You need to calm the fuck down. Your voice is about three octaves higher than usual.

She pauses. “Is everything okay?”

You open your mouth to respond and find that you can’t. You’re still emotionally snagged on the barbed thought of Peter watching old sci-fi movies in bed alone. Having May in front of you is making you feel hot and trapped.

May’s brows crease. “Oh, dear.”

You laugh, embarrassed, touching your fingertip to the inner corner of your eye. “Shit, sorry. This is. Um. Yes, yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.” You laugh again, and it comes out like static.

She purses her lips. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the park.”

Her tone brooks no argument, and you find yourself glad to obey, your brain happily soggy and freed from decision-making. She leads you to a quiet spot by the fountain, on the stone steps.

A toddler with a chaff-coloured cowlick blowing in the wind is chasing the pigeons and shrieking with delight. You watch his parents smiling at each other as they follow close behind.

May digs a tube out of her bag and deposits a dime-sized amount of citrus-smelling lotion into her palms before smoothing her hands together. “Peter always tells me I should stop trying to get involved in things that are none of my business, but then, he really shouldn’t talk.”

You swallow a mouthful of coffee. “We kind of broke up. I think.”

She makes a pained noise, but doesn’t seem surprised.

You feel the need to defend him from the disappointed look on her face. “It’s my fault. I misinterpreted the whole thing. I tried to make it more serious than we agreed. Peter didn’t do anything wrong.”

She does look surprised at this. “I thought it was already serious. Peter’s never brought anybody around to meet me before. And from how he’d been talking…”

Your throat tightens. You look down at your knees and find there’s a ladder forming in your tights, right below the hem of your skirt. “I thought so too. Or hoped, at least.”

She doesn’t push the conversation further, which is nice of her, but it means you’re left with an expanse of expectant silence. A mouse-brown sparrow flits past your head and dives into the row of bushes surrounding the fountain.

“He never told me how he was feeling.” You wonder if this is a mistake. It’s probably weird of you to be having this conversation with his aunt, without his knowledge, when you aren’t even together anymore. If you were ever together. “But I could tell things were just…off. Sometimes.”

She nods. “The whole Oscorp thing couldn’t have been easy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, before you realise what she’s said. “Wait, what?”

“Well, it’s…it’s just probably bringing up some painful memories for him having you there, that’s all. After what happened, you know, with Harry, and everything else.”

“What? You mean Harry Osborn? Like the old CEO’s son?” You’d heard he suffered some kind of semi-public breakdown not long after his father’s death, smashed up one of the labs and lost all of his remaining shares before disappearing into a hospital somewhere, but you can’t imagine how any of this connects with Peter. “I’m sorry, I’m really lost. What are we talking about here?”

The sparrow emerges victorious from the greenery, a doomed grass spider wriggling in the pinch of its tiny beak. May’s eyes dart searchingly between yours, her expression growing cold. “He hasn’t told you.”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek. You feel very stupid. “Hasn’t told me what?”

She looks terribly sad. She gently lays her hand over yours, her plain wedding band cold against your skin. The gesture feels like the application of a balm, preempting pain. You imagine then that she must be a very, very good nurse. “Oh, sweetheart. Her name was Gwen.”

——————

Bear clomps through the apartment, all the way from one side to the other and back again. Her footfalls sound heavy. She must be wearing her oil-slick rainbow Docs, you muse. Her door was shut when you got in, so this is only a guess, but you can practically see her through the walls.

More clomping, then a pause, coming to a halt right outside your bedroom door. “You nearly ready to go?” she yells.

If she’s wearing those boots, then you’d be willing to bet she’s also wearing shorts. Maybe those green high-waisted ones. You really like those shorts. Maybe you’ll ask where she got them.

“Can I come in? Are you naked?”

Then again, she probably found them in a thrift store. She has a weird talent for finding cool stuff wherever she goes; one you sadly do not share.

Your door opens and she stands silhouetted against the light, looking down at you sitting on your bed, in the dark, in your pajamas for a long moment. “Do you want me to cancel with Chris?”

“No. You go without me. I kinda wanna be alone.”

She cracks the knuckles of her index and middle fingers absent-mindedly. “O kay, but you’ve been alone. Most nights this week.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice sounds strangely flat. “Just tired.”

She cracks her thumb; a single loud, thoughtful pop. Then she walks away, leaving your door open.

You contemplate climbing into the shower fully-dressed. You’re sure it’d feel nice, sitting under the warm spray. It’s only the thought of then having to peel the cold, clinging skin of your pajamas off after the fact that convinces you not to.

Bear reappears sans jacket, now silent on socked feet, the spare blanket from the sofa in one hand and her laptop in the other. She shuffles into your room. “You wanna watch The Thing?”

Your sinuses tingle and you almost cry with affection for her. “Yeah,” you say, your voice tiny. “Yeah, I wanna watch The Thing.”

“The old one,” she qualifies haughtily as she plops onto the bed beside you. “I don’t give a fuck how sad you are; we’re not watching the remake.”

“Obviously,” you say, scooting over to make room for her.

As you settle in, you catch a glimpse of her thumbs moving swiftly over a message, making an excuse to Chris, something about you both eating bad leftovers. She could’ve just blamed you, but she doesn’t.

You aren’t really seeing the movie. It’s all just colours and shapes and noises. Your eyes follow the splashes of red across the screen as you speak, quiet.

“His girlfriend died.”

You can see her looking at you from your periphery, but she doesn’t say anything.

“It happened right before college. It’s why he took a year off and started late. His aunt told me it was an accident, but he saw it happen, and he couldn’t stop it, and he blames himself.” As though to drive it deeper into your own guts, you say it again. “She died. In front of him.”

There’s a long silence, broken only by the voices of the actors onscreen.

“Shit,” Bear finally says.

“Yeah.”

May hadn’t shared many details. Just that she— Gwen —had interned at Oscorp, and that Peter had been friends with Harry Osborn since they were children. The dual losses had been near-simultaneous. Peter hadn’t recovered. Not completely. Not really.

“He never seemed to talk to anyone. Except for his aunt. It’s why I didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, even with all the weird shit going on. He was totally isolated from everyone. Like, I had to be the one to approach him the first time we… anyway.”

Bear nods. “Is he in therapy?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her next words come out very carefully, as though she’s trying to be tactful. “Do you think…maybe, you don’t really miss being with him? Are you sure you don’t just feel sorry for him? Or like you need to save him?”

You think about one of the last times you’d gone over to see him. He’d stopped to hold the stairwell door open for one of his neighbours; a sour-faced old man with arms full of groceries. The man had given no thanks, or even acknowledgement, but Peter had still followed a careful distance behind, darting forward to hold the door again when he’d reached his floor. He hadn’t even said anything. Because, you now know intimately, that’s simply the type of person Peter Parker is.

You think about the clean-laundry smell of his hoodies and the awkward way he folds his frame into too-small chairs and how carefully he ran his hands up the length of your throat while he was buried inside you.

“I miss him.”

She sighs. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

You both sink into silence, watching the characters in the movie play out their inevitable ends. Despite the gore, this feels safe. Like model trains with nowhere to go but to the ends of their assigned tracks.

You nudge her foot with yours. “Sorry for fucking up your night. You’re a good egg.”

She pats the top of your head, then quickly yanks her arm away to stifle a sneeze in the crook of her elbow. “Yeah, I know.”

You fall asleep curled softly into the warm space left by Bear’s body.

It’s pouring so heavily you can barely keep your umbrella over your head. Your arms shake with the effort, water sloshing and sucking at your feet.

“It’s coming down pretty hard,” you shout.

“What?” May shouts back. You’re standing together in her kitchen. The floorboards have liquefied to mud, the drops pinging metallic off the benches and light fixtures.

“I said it’s raining really hard!”

“It’s okay,” she yells. “Peter’s fixing it.” Her face is a washed-out blur in the distance. The dimensions of the room are off; she’s at least twenty yards away, the house stretched to surreal proportions, and in the gloaming you can barely tell which direction to turn your body.

“Peter’s here?” You spin around, squinting into the dark. “Peter?”

You grope groggily out of the blankets for your phone, still beside you on the bed. It’s just after four in the morning.

He was last active two minutes ago.

you should be asleep, you type, squinting, and then swiftly delete.

i hope you’re okay, you try again, backspacing the characters as fast as you write them.

Is he alone right now? Is he warm enough? Is he safe?

i’m really sorry.

The message glows at you, unsent.

You turn over and sleep again, dreamless this time.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm fanfiction #tasm fanfic #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 1: Bound

It's October so of course I'm writing again! We'll see how far I get through Whumptober this year lol.

Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Characters: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne

Summary: When Damian becomes the latest victim in a string of kidnappings across Gotham, it's down to Dick to save him and the rest of the missing kids. He just has to get there in time.

AO3 Link

The sound of Dick’s boots echoed in the empty hall even as his heart pounded in his chest and his comm buzzed white noise into his ear. Dim lights flickered around him, only just illuminating his path through the old abandoned hotel. But he had to keep moving, had to find the missing kids. Had to find Damian .

He pushed himself a little faster through the hall, pausing only whenever he came to a door to throw it open, then on finding it empty, start his mad dash again. They had to be here, everything pointed to this location.

Batman and Robin had been investigating a series of kidnappings over the past month. Dick had done his best to keep Damian away from the information but the kid was about as stubborn as Bruce had been when he decided on something, so Dick had let him in with the promise they did everything together.

And he’d kept that promise. He’d done so well, and then it had been Dick who’d lost him.

“Stupid.” Dick grumbled, peering into yet another empty room. Every room was empty on this floor, but there were still the ballrooms at the top to check.

He’d been so stupid, taking Damian out to do some shopping then turning away for a moment. A second had been all the kidnapper needed to grab another kid. Another victim. And it was Dick’s fault. For looking away when there was a person out there grabbing kids Damian’s age.

Alfred’s consoling voice from earlier flooded through his thoughts as he took the stairs down two at a time, ‘It is not your fault, you were simply trying to have a good day amidst all this terribleness.’ And what good had it done either of them? Panic in Dick’s chest, and a missing brother.

The only thing that kept him moving was that none of the kids had been found yet. No ransoms had been sent out either, but no bodies meant they had to be somewhere. And Dick was going to find them.

He’d tracked the kidnapper here via an unusual series of shipments of food and chemicals sent to a Dr. Keith Raimy. An ex-professor from Gotham U who’d been kicked out for multiple breaches of student privacy and theft of university property. He'd recently had a paper rejected. It's title? Fear and Trauma: Can We Make Our Kids Strong Enough for the Future, Through Fear Today? Dick had skimmed the paper, and what had been proposed inside had made him sick to his stomach.

The door to the first ball room he tried on the top floor was locked. Muffled, and just through the door, Dick could hear screams. In a fit of rage, and fueled by the panic Dick was only just keeping in check, he kicked it down. The old rotting hinges gave way and the thing toppled backward with a heavy thump.

Silence filled the room for a moment, giving Dick a breath to take it in. Mostly empty, it had rotting carpet and peeling wallpaper. A tattered chandelier hung from the ceiling, pieces held on by a few dangling wires, but mostly disassembled either from time or theft.

Huddled in a group in one corner of an old ballroom, were children. The children Dick had been searching for. From what he could see, they were bound with some sort of rope, and looked rough, but alive and breathing.

At the far back of the room there was a stage, or what had once been used as a stage. Now it was mostly just a raised platform with tall floodlights dragged up to it, a rumbling generator the source of their power. It was cluttered with other equipment too, tables filled with jars and beakers, boxes opened with bits poking out of the top, and a laptop hooked up to a microscope. Standing among the clutter was Dr. Raimy in a stained lab coat just blocking a table.

He had turned to stare at Dick when the door came crashing down. Now, he moved to raise his arm, mouth opening, and in the next breath the moment of silence was broken as the screaming started again. The doctor tensed, shifting a bit to cover the table, but it wouldn’t help.

Clear now, the voice was unmistakably Damian’s, high and terrified in a way Dick had never heard it before and it was coming from behind the doctor.

Dick bolted forward, slipping batagrangs out of his belt. Damian was his only thought. His boy was up there, terrified and suffering all because of the man in front of him.

Dr. Raimy jumped to the side, attempting to make a run for it, and stumbled into another table. It gave Dick long enough to cover most of the distance between them and fling a few batarangs in the man’s direction. One caught his jacket, and the other stabbed into junk on the table making him yelp. He jerked back, and then turned towards the table he’d been guarding, making a second dart for it, and the figure writhing atop it. Red clouded Dick’s vision as he got his first clear view of his little brother, strapped down to the table with a long strand of barbed wire, and straining against it as he yelled.

Dick roared, and leapt up to the platform, grabbing the doctor as he did so. The man released an aborted shout as Dick flung him back and away from the table into a pile of boxes. He turned for a moment to Damian, catching sight of his brother’s pupils blown wide. He hadn’t even registered the action beside him, trapped in whatever horrorscape he’d been dropped into.

The sound of rustling indicated that Raimy was already pushing himself up, babbling something about science and progress and Batman not understanding.

He stalked forward, raising himself up to as imposing a height as possible and kicked at the doctor, knocking him back into the boxes to stun him. Then, he reached down and dragged the man upwards.

“What did you give him?” he demanded.

“It was--a mixture of my own making.”

Dick shook him so hard that he heard something pop, “Did you make an antidote?”

Behind him, Damian’s screaming changed pitch to something even more desperate.

“ Tell me .” he growled.

“T-there, it’s--it’s in the line of blue vials. Please don’t kill me, I was only trying-”

Dick didn’t give the man the time to finish his sentence, he punched him square in the face, and dropped him unconscious back into the boxes. Then he was over at the vials, thankfully a syringe had already been filled or he’d have to waste time figuring out how much to give Damian. He pocketed it, swapping it out in his hand for a pair of wire clippers and rushed back to the table.

“Damian, I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s alright.” Dick said, voice gentle, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Something must have gotten through to him, because Damian stilled at his words, staring with wide, terrified eyes up at Dick. Dick tried not to look at the red lines of blood on Damian’s arms and chest he worked on clipping the barbed wire, instead murmuring quietly to Damian to keep him calm.

Thankfully, the man hadn’t totally wrapped Damian in the stuff. The single band was thick and strong enough to keep a drugged kid down, but hopefully hadn’t done too much damage. Still, it made Dick’s stomach churn as he lifted it as gently as he could off his brother, Damian making only the tiniest of sobs as each barb still embedded in his skin pulled out.

“Just one more second, sweetheart.” Dick whispered, hoping his voice wasn’t carrying over to the other kids. There was murmuring coming from them by now, as they realized rescue was at hand, but Dick’s focus was on the kid currently in need of the most help. At last, Dick dropped the discarded wire onto the table and leaned back to find the vial of the antidote.

Something about the sound of the wire, or a movement Dick made, or just whatever concoction the doctor had given him triggered something in Damian the moment Dick leaned away. He shot up from where he’d been lying, and grabbed the wire with both hands, heedless of any damage it was causing.

Dick reached for him, ready to pull the barbed wire away from him but Damian scooted back, precariously close to the edge of the table and yelled, “No! Don’t!”

“Hey, it’s alright, why don’t you give me that?” Dick asked, trying to calm him back down.

“Stop!” Damian yelled again, gripping the wire tighter and pressing it to his chest, “Don’t take him!”

“Damian please, you have to let go. It’s hurting you.” Dick tried again, wincing as red started to drip down the wire.

“No! I won’t let you!”

“Okay, okay.” Dick held up both hands, whatever Damian was seeing must have been convincing and he didn’t want to hurt the kid by forcing the barbed wire out of his hands, he’d only tear them up more that way.

“Would you let me give you something?” Dick asked, gently lowering his arms to retrieve the syringe, “It’ll make you feel better.”

Damian eyed him, the look almost like what he’d normally make when suspicious, but just off enough from the drugs, “Yes?” he said.

“Great. I just need your arm, you don’t have to let go of anything or anyone okay?” Dick said, slowly reaching for Damian’s arm with his free hand. When the boy let him place his hands by his elbow, Dick angled it up, then after a moment, praying he hadn’t been lied to, injected his brother with the liquid in one motion.

Damian jerked back, squeezing the wire closer to him and went tumbling from the table. Dick lunged over it, and just managed to hook an arm around the kid, tugging him up. He heard the clatter of glass falling and hitting the ground as the syringe that had still been stuck in Damian’s arm slipped out and shattered.

“No! No! Stop!” Damian wailed, kicking and jerking in Dick’s hold.

Mindful that if he tugged Damian into his chest the barbed wire would do more harm, Dick decided he'd restrain him by pulling his back towards him. That was easier said than done with a flailing kid. At last, Dick had an arm hooked under Damian’s arms and had him held tight against him, seated again on the table. His brother continued to scream and kick and tug at him for another minute, then two, until gradually Damian’s own chest slowed it’s rapid rise and fall and his cries quieted down to nothing.

“Batman?” His voice was tiny, shattered from screaming, but almost lucid.

Dick dropped his face into Damian’s hair and sighed, “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

He let go of Damian and stepped around to face his front. There, he pointed at the tangled barbed wire still in Damian’s hands, “Will you hand me that?”

Damian looked down surprised to see it, “Oh.”

Wincing he released it, and before anything else could happen, Dick balled it up and tossed it away from them. When he turned back to Damian, the kid was staring down at his palms that were red and torn. He hadn’t said anything else, but Dick could hear the tight way he was breathing, the sound almost like whistles, like he was holding back the pain.

He dug out some gauze, wraps, and something to numb the pain, “Here, let me.”

With gentle motions Dick bandaged Damian’s hands. When he was done, he dropped a kiss onto the knuckles of each one, “Wait for me right here? I have to help the others.”

Damian’s eyes went wide, “The kids--”

“Are mostly fine.” Dick said, sparing them another glance, they’d been remarkably patient, but their chatter had gone up from quiet murmurs to full conversations, “But eager to be untied I’m sure.”

His brother nodded. Even though it tore at Dick’s heart to step away, he did. And he took as much time with each of them as they needed. Batman couldn’t focus only on one child after all, especially when others showed signs of having gone through something similar to Damian. Gradually though, Dick got them all settled down, untied, and called Oracle to let her know to send police and paramedics. Then he swung by Damian to scoop him up into his arms --the kid for once not arguing being carried-- and corralled everyone downstairs.

Dick could see the lights of the emergency vehicles through the windows, and sent the children out before him, lingering back in the building with Damian. The last thing he wanted to do was let go of his brother, even if it was to hand him off to medical professionals. He’d just gotten him back, and the mere thought of having him out of his sight for a second felt impossible to manage. All he could think of were the number of --mostly implausible-- ways Damian could end up hurt or in danger again.

He was starting to see why Bruce had been so protective of his Robins.

"Batman?" Damian's voice was very quiet in the dim lighting.

"Yes?"

Damian shifted so his face was pressed a little closer to Dick's neck, "I'm sorry. I got caught."

"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I let you get taken."

"I-" Damian sighed, "Thank you for coming."

Dick tugged him a little closer, mindful that he still had injuries that needed to be cared for, "Always. Now, what do you say we sneak out and let Alfred finish patching you up? The police are used to Batman disappearing, and I found you before I ever reported you missing."

Damian, hummed, “I would like that, I want to go home.”

Dick pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair, “Then straight home we go.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #whumptober2021 #day 1 #bound #barbed wire #you have to let go #injury #blood #hurt/comfort #angst #whump #happy ending #precious posts #no editing we die like robins

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angellesword · 4 years

Text

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #bangtan angst #bangtan ships #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fic

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!”

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn’t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips.

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give.

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them.

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly.

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!”

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon.

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins.

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.”

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?”

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?” (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama.

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow. “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending.

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls.

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them.

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart.

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his.

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect.

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#legend of korra #lok #the legend of korra #tlok #mako #mako tlok #mako lok #mako x reader #mako x you #mako imagine #lok imagine #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra imagine #fluff #reader insert #atla #gender neutral reader #and yeah you can measure flour and stuff with your hands i do it all the time don't @ me

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 7

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Saturday brings an unexpected heat wave, the high temperatures uncharacteristic even for D.C. Dana has grappled all week with how to explain her Saturday evening plans to Ethan. Her instinct is to lie, to tell him she’s getting dinner with Missy or has to go into work for an emergency autopsy. But lying makes it impossible to tell herself that what she’s doing isn’t wrong; if she has nothing to hide, why would she be hiding it? In the end, she goes with vague truth and tells him that she’s meeting up with a colleague to discuss some interesting new research they shared with her. Never mind that said colleague is a very handsome and apparently very single man. Never mind that she feels a rush between her legs whenever she pictures his cocky smile. Meeting with a colleague. Interesting research. Nothing more.

She and Ethan spend the morning lying around in their underwear, too overheated to do anything else. The air conditioning hums and sputters, trying to keep up, but it's no match for the sweltering heat.

“Do we have ice cream?” Ethan asks, splayed out on his back against the hardwood clad in green boxer shorts.

“Nope, I ate it all when I was PMSing last week,” she replies from the couch, arms and legs draped off the sides so that no part of her body is touching any other.

They are quiet for a bit.

“Wanna have sex?” Ethan asks offhandedly, and she feels a flush of dread.

“Too hot,” she replies with an equally offhand tone, glad he can’t see her face.

They are quiet again.

“Are you okay, Dana?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes on the ceiling. She waits a little too long to answer.

“Yeah, why?”

“You just...you don’t seem like yourself. Since we got engaged, I mean. You seem kind of distracted. Distant, maybe?”

She takes a steadying breath. She knows he’s right. If she were honest, she’d tell him that she feels crushing guilt for being so infatuated with another man. That she feels like a horrible girlfriend, fiancée, almost-wife, for continuing to seek out interactions with him, but she can’t bring herself to stop. That she loves Ethan, so much, but can’t deny the pull that Mulder has on her. That she feels like she’s cheating when they have sex, because Mulder invariably takes his place in her mind. But she can’t tell him any of that.

She rolls to her side so she can look at him.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed lately, with work and the wedding. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He rolls his head to the side to meet her eye.

“So you’re not having doubts? About getting married?” The pain and worry in his voice is like a kick in the gut.

“Of course not,” she implores, crawling off the couch and across the floor to where he lays. She gingerly throws a leg over his hip and straddles him, placing her hands on his sweat-damp chest and leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “I can’t wait to be your wife,” she says with a soft smile, and the twist in her belly alerts her to the fact that this might be a lie.

They make love, there on the living room floor. She keeps her eyes open, not allowing her mind to wander from this moment, this man. Not allowing herself to admit that this is a consolation, an attempt to prove to them both that she is in this, with him, for the long haul. Her orgasm is weak and brief, not the same. Nothing is the same, anymore. Not since Mulder waltzed into the autopsy bay and complicated her life.

————————

The heat has abated only slightly by 5:30 as she’s preparing to leave her apartment and head to Mulder’s. She debates what to wear for an agonizingly long time; the temperature calls for a dress or shorts, but she fears sending the wrong message if it looks like she’s intentionally bearing skin. She finally settles on a black maxi dress, a compromise in coverage and air flow, paired with flip flops. Casual, not trying too hard, but not frumpy either.

As she makes for the door, Ethan stops her with a gentle grasp on her wrist, pulling her to him.

“You look beautiful,” he says with an affectionate gaze, and that guilty feeling in her belly is back. Their impromptu living room floor love-making seems to have assuaged his concerns over her demeanor for the time being, but it only served to deepen her own inner turmoil.

“Thank you,” she replies before kissing him on the cheek and escaping the emotional heat of their apartment for the temperate heat of the DC evening.

2630 Hegal Place is a stately brick building that has been decently maintained. It’s not as nice as her neighborhood in Georgetown, but it’s hardly the slum that Mulder suggested it was. She feels a little sick as she rides the elevator up to the fourth floor, taking in the dark wood trim against the yellowing walls of his hallway. She finds apartment forty-two and pauses outside the door for a long while. She has a feeling that walking through this door is a decision with consequences, one she shouldn’t take lightly. She realizes she’s not wearing her engagement ring; it’s likely sitting on the bathroom counter beside the sink. A simple oversight; she’s not yet used to wearing it. Certainly not a Freudian slip of the mind...she has the sudden overwhelming urge to flee. Perhaps she knows exactly what she’s doing after all. She turns to walk back to the elevator when the door swings open, startling her.

“Scully,” he says with a lopsided smile.

He’s wearing dark wash jeans, his top half bare, a bag of garbage in one hand. Her eyes immediately light on the broad expanse of his chest, smooth and dappled with a light dusting of hair. His abdomen is solid, sleek and defined. A swimmer’s body, she thinks with a sigh.

“I was just taking the trash out, you’re a little early,” he says with a hint of embarrassment, passing her to stuff the bag down the chute at the end of the hall.

“Oh, sorry, am I?” she looks at her watch; it’s 5:55.

“Or maybe I’m just running a little behind,” he replies sheepishly, then lifts his arm and gestures for her to enter the apartment, “please, come in.”

She enters a combination foyer and dining room, the kitchen tucked off to the left and the living room straight ahead. The ambiance matches the hallway, dark wood and yellow walls, the ceilings impressively high. The decor is sparse; nothing on the walls and only small trinkets littering the surfaces, a fish tank burbling near the window. She waits to see where he directs her to go. The dining room table seems like a suitably professional place for two colleagues to review work files. He brushes past her to the living room, the shower-fresh smell of him drifting into her nostrils; Irish Spring and Old Spice.

“You can take a seat,” he says gesturing to the couch, “let me just grab a shirt and the files.” He disappears through a door that must be his bedroom.

She sets her purse on his cluttered desk and sits on one end of the worn leather couch, looking around at his few furnishings. She startles when a black blur springs onto her lap with a high-pitched meow, and Mulder re-enters the room with a bankers box tucked under his arm, his torso now covered by a black T-shirt.

“Jesus, Priscilla, don’t assault the woman,” he says as he sets the box on the coffee table and plucks the cat off her lap. “Sorry about that, she has an affinity for pretty girls,” he continues, then directs his next comment to the cat. “We have that in common, eh, Prissy?”

She feels a flush to her cheeks and he takes the cat with him to the kitchen, returning with two beers in its place.

“I hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind me borrowing you for the evening,” he says as he hands her an open beer.

She looks at him with a mildly shocked expression, his mention of Ethan feeling out of place and somehow obscene. Noticing her discomfort, he changes the subject as he sits on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is all I walked away with, one box of the best, brightest, and weirdest X files I came across during my time. About half are those I investigated myself, the rest were left from the previous agents who started the division,” he slides the box down the coffee table towards her and she plucks the lid off carefully to see dozens of neatly labeled orange folders. She pulls a random one out from the middle and sets her beer on the coffee table, opening the file across her lap.

“So tell me why the X files division was shut down,” she says as she leafs through the pages.

“Well, the official reason is that an investigation into a man with green blood resulted in multiple deaths, which was just the last in a series of...mishaps. But the real reason is that I was too close to the truth.”

She lifts her head from the file to look at him. He has his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. He seems so at ease all the time, so comfortable around her.

“The truth about what?” she asks, working to peel her eyes from his plush lower lip.

He takes a deep breath. “A lot of things, but namely a government conspiracy to conceal the existence of extraterrestrial life, even as they’re conducting experiments and research on said extraterrestrials. Perhaps even working with them.”

It’s that same even, factual delivery. Her mouth blossoms into a slow smile.

“Working with the aliens? To do what, open a KMart on Mars?” she teases, and he returns her smile with one that is so devilish it makes her pelvis twitch.

“Read on, Scully. The more you see, the less crazy it sounds.”

He stands and goes to the stereo, and after a few minutes of fiddling around she hears Radiohead begin to play. “You like Radiohead?” he asks, and she gives a half shrug, half nod. Doesn’t love ‘em, doesn’t hate ‘em.

“So this one appears to be about some kind of tree-dwelling insect?” she asks, reading over details of a dead man sucked dry of all fluids and bound up in a giant cocoon.

Mulder returns to the couch and sits beside her, much closer this time, their thighs nearly touching. The heat of his body on top of the warmth of the air makes new sweat prick at the back of her neck.

“Indeed, prehistoric insects that were released from the inner rings of the tree when they were logged. I nearly got eaten up by them myself,” he remarks, reaching over to turn the pages that lie across her lap. She shivers a little despite the heat.

“And what does that have to do with aliens and government conspiracies?” she asks, keeping her head down, knowing that if she looks up at him he would be close enough to kiss.

“It’s not that straight forward, Scully. There are things, many things, on our planet that are unexplainable, and having control over that which can’t be understood by science and intelligence gives you a certain degree of power. Unfortunately, it’s a power that’s most often used for evil instead of good.”

She does turn to him then, getting an up-close look at the greenish, almost-hazel of his irises, the pronounced bridge of his nose.

“There’s nothing that’s unexplainable on this planet, Mulder. Just because we can’t explain it now doesn’t mean we never will. Consider how much science has progressed in the last fifty years alone. Who knows what we deem unexplainable now that will be perfectly understood in another fifty?”

He tilts his head closer to her and her heart speeds up, her lips parting unconsciously. His smirk is devastatingly sexy, and she suddenly doesn’t trust herself.

“May I use your bathroom?” she asks abruptly, looking away.

“Of course, it’s through the bedroom,” he says, hitching his thumb to the door behind and to their left.

She carefully makes her way into his bedroom, which contains a queen size mattress on a mahogany frame, a dresser, and not much else. He’s a man of simple means, it would seem. The bathroom is clean and devoid of skid marks and stray pubic hairs; the seat is even down. When she returns, he’s placed several of the files in a neat stack on the coffee table.

“These are the ones I’d recommend you read. At least they may be the ones you find most compelling,” he says as she returns to her seat, inching just a bit further away from him than she’d been before.

She takes the first from the stack and opens it. “So how’d you get into all this, Mulder? Have you always been into aliens, or did you see E.T. too many times when it came out?”

He doesn’t answer and she looks at him. He’s considering her, pondering. Deciding whether to tell her something.

Continue Reading here

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #xf fanfic #alternate universe

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bentforkent · 4 years

Text

polaroid

spencer reid x gender neutral!reader

no content warnings (except sweet fluff and banter, as per usual)

word count: 1581

in which spencer is your cute roommate

“spencer reid, i swear to god, if you don’t take out this trash like i asked you to two days ago, i might scream.”

“you’re screaming anyways, to be fair.”

you let out a frustrated groan, shaking your head at him and stalking to your room.

spencer was a great roommate, usually. he’d listed his guest room for rent years ago, and you, desperate for a space to call your own, had jumped. his apartment was nice, dark walls covered in organized clutter spencer had accumulated over the years. when you came to tour the space, you peered up at his walls. there were newspaper clippings, receipts, nightclub wristbands, polaroid photos, all organized into a neat grid.

“okay, i’ll take the room,” you said, deciding that a man who was this meticulous and sentimental couldn’t possibly murder you in your sleep. you would’ve rented the room either way, honestly, the price of the place was too good to pass up. you figured that’s probably because not many people wanted to live with a random man, but you had chalked spencer up to be pretty much harmless. “under one condition,” you stated.

spencer was taken aback by this, not really believing you were in the position to put stipulations onto your agreement. “what’s your condition?” he inquired, choosing his words carefully so as not to promise you anything.

“i get to put some of my stuff up on the walls too.”

this he could get behind. at least you weren’t asking to completely overhaul his interior design. in fact, you embraced it, and wanted to be involved. he liked that. his last roommate had been somewhat of a recluse, and as much as spencer was okay with not being bothered, the roommate’s presence made his apartment feel significantly less like home.

but when you moved in, you never left him alone. spencer’s introverted nature means he should’ve been completely bothered by this. but you’re so warm, such a presence, that he embraced it. every time you begged him to watch a movie with you, go get dinner with you, or to just sit at the kitchen table with you while he did his paperwork, his heart stirred. he enjoyed living with you, and you him. except when he forgets to take out the trash.

“y/n,” he whines, following you. spencer, in all of his softness, can’t handle when you’re upset with him. “i’m sorry i didn’t take out the trash,” he says, pushing your door open and flopping onto your bed next to you.

you look up from your phone to glance at him.

“i would love to get takeout tonight, but we can’t because there’s nowhere to throw the containers away,” you say dryly, turning back to your phone, and carding one hand through his hair. he makes a noise of dissent and sticks out his bottom lip. you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger.

“well i could go take it out now, but you’re playing with my hair,” he says. you scratch at his scalp gently, then remove your hand.

“go, then. i’ll order food. thai?”

when he comes back, you’re sitting on the rug of the living room, flicking through your dvd collection.

“wanna watch a movie?” you ask. “i’m picking.”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “i can’t remember the last time i picked, y/n.”

“yeah, you like boring movies.” you look up at him, and he gives you a pleading look. “fine. you can pick.”

he ends up picking some foreign movie you have to rent online. he promises profusely that he’ll translate in your ear the whole time, and that’s enough to sell you. when your food arrives, you place his meal on a plate like he likes it, and opt to eat yours out of the styrofoam box. you curl up against his side, and he wraps his arm around you.

“thanks for taking out the trash, finally,” you murmur. he shushes you. god forbid you interrupt his movie.

he begins to whisper translations to you, and you’re immediately tense. you’re overwhelmed. his arm is around you, his lips brushing against your ear, his hand in your hair. and spencer’s just your roommate, you know this. but that doesn’t mean he’s not attractive. anyone with eyes could see that. you just had to keep that to yourself, because you lived together and it would be weird if he ever found out you had a tiny crush on him.

okay, a big crush on him.

you discovered your feelings for spencer a few months ago when the two of you had spent the night at a hotel for the weekend, simply because spencer was off of work and you wanted to lounge by the pool with him. both of you needed to relax, and a mini-vacation had been perfect. there was only one bed in the room, because you booked the smallest (and cheapest) room possible, but neither of you were phased. you’d spent the night in each other’s beds multiple times before, usually after a particularly long, deep conversation or a movie night.

“do you think god exists?” you asked, lying in bed with him.

“oh my god, go to sleep, y/n,” spencer groaned. you pouted, turning away from him and hiking the blanket up to your chin.

a beat passes.

“do you want to go explore?” you asked. there was always something exciting about finding a weird room in a hotel you’d never been to before.

spencer let out a heavy sigh and sat up, flicking the lamp on. “no, y/n.” you knew he was irritated with you. it was 3 am, but you just couldn’t sleep. his dark circles were pronounced, his shoulders tense. “how can i help you right now?” he asked.

“you don’t want to help me, you just want to go to sleep,” you said petulantly, back still turned to him.

“if i help you, i can fall asleep, because you won’t be bothering me with all your questions,” he replied, voice low and gravelly.

“no, turn the lights off.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“leave me alone, i’m trying to sleep, spencer.”

spencer was too tired to argue with you, so he turned off the light and laid back down, desperate for sleep. it took all of two minutes for you to open your mouth again.

“spencer?”

he didn’t answer, but you knew he was awake from the pattern of his breathing.

“spencer,” you said again, dragging out the word in a sing-songy tone and flipping to face him.

he opened his heavy eyes and gazed at you. “shut up and go to sleep,” he said, and punctuated his sentence with a firm kiss to your lips. you were stunned into silence by the action. satisfied, spencer turned away from you and promptly fell asleep. you didn’t say another word until morning, and even then, neither one of you brought it up, falling back into your normal relationship with ease.

as you’re watching spencer’s russian movie, he can tell you’re on edge. he intentionally brushes his lips against your earlobe just to watch you squirm. didn’t you know he’s a profiler? he’s had you figured out for years. he knows all your tells. he knows that you’re head-over-heels for him. he likes this, because he feels the same way. spencer takes pleasure in bothering you simply because it gives him power that he doesn’t generally have with you. you’re so headstrong, so sure of yourself. but when his breath is fanning over your neck, he’s in control.

you pull away from his grasp suddenly, accidentally flinging a bit of pad thai across the couch. he chuckles, and you narrow your eyes at him at the sound. “you’re doing this on purpose!”

“doing what on purpose?” he says coyly.

“getting me all hot and bothered!”

“is that what’s happening?” he asks, a teasing tone to his voice. he sets his plate down on the coffee table, but you hold your takeout container to your chest as if it creates a barrier between you and him. your eyes are wide, and again, you’re surprised into silence.

“when are you gonna admit it, y/n?” he asks. if this were a normal conversation between the two of you, you would ask him “admit what,” but you knew what he was talking about.

“you’re mean,” you say simply, placing your meal down and crawling over to him. “you win. kiss me now.”

he cups your face gently and pulls you into a deep kiss. there’s no hesitation before you’re kissing him back, moving closer to straddle his waist. he moans softly into your mouth, and you take his parted lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss. your hands find their way into his hair, tugging softly. for all of his cockiness earlier, you’re in control now. he’s putty in your hands. his hands reach the hem of your shirt, and he pulls away to ask you for permission.

“wait!” you exclaim. you clamber out of his lap, grabbing his polaroid camera off of the shelf where he keeps it. he gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head. “smile, spence,” you sing. he grins. he looks happy. his lips are swollen, you note, but you think only you would notice. his eyes are honey colored, illuminated by the forgotten tv playing across from him. you snap the picture, and pin it to the wall.

(author’s note: if you’re reading this and you liked it, read my series to the moon and to saturn!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #my writing #spencer reid fanfiction

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out-of-jams · 4 years

Text

Howl’s Moving Castle || Part One || kth

↠ Howl’s Moving Castle ↞ Part of my Ghibli Yandere Series!

It was an accident: offending the witch. But he didn’t take it lightly, cursing you to age into an old hag overnight. With no way to reverse the spell, you took it upon yourself to hunt down the only person who may have been able to help. But the self-absorbed wizard who lived hidden away in the moving castle wouldn’t be so easy to convince.

Especially when it came to letting you go.

Warnings/Genre: Horror. Soft Yandere!Taehyung. Howl!Taehyung. Magic. Mature themes. Light violence. Some fluff. Explicit language. 18+

Word Count: 7.5k

Part 1 of 3.

A/N: Hey guys. Holy shit did this take a lot longer than I’d originally planned it to. I’ve decided to split it into three parts instead of two so that I could get it out to you guys quicker. Hope you all are staying safe out there! (just a warning, this is unedited haha).

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

| Next | Masterlist |

In, through. Pull. Around.

The steel needle twisting around your fingertips did so without a second thought. Pushed through the heavy material to stitch together fabric until it resembled something wearable. Your eyes were glazed over as your mind wandered away from your task. Sewing was simple, so-much-so that you could look away from the hat in your hands and still thread it together. It came from the experience of owning a hat shop for most of your life.

“Is that Taehyung’s castle?”

The excitable titering of women’s voices brought you out of your trance-like state and left you blinking down at the half-sewn brown hat in your hands.

“It can’t be.”

You let the grasp you had on the needle falter in order to send a glance at the gaggle of women gathered at the window to the left. Through an archway they stood, with their bright colored dresses and overly large skirts. One of them tapped against the glass windowpane facing the street like the rest of them weren’t already looking.

And you couldn’t help the curiosity that had your head turning back to stare out of the window in front of you. Placed in the wall right above your cluttered work desk. You squinted in an attempt to see through the smog lingering in the air outside to the rolling green hills in the distance. Past the tops of buildings cramping the streets.

You could just barely see it, the giant machine that seemed to almost float across the ground it walked on. Even at its distance you could tell it was big, taller than the top of the highest building in the city. But you’d never seen it up close. No one had and lived to tell the tale of it.

The sight wasn’t common, but it wasn’t quite rare either. The monstrous mechanical structure that just barely resembled a castle had roamed the land for years. Ventured from town to town, city to city, never stopping in one place. Where it went and what it did, you hadn’t a clue. You’d only seen it a total of three times throughout your life.

But never close enough to get a glimpse of the wizard who was rumored to dwell within it. So evil and so powerful that no one dared to go near.

As it disappeared into the fog, you sighed. Turned back to the needle lying between your fingers with distaste. You didn’t hate what you did with your life, making hats day in and day out. But you didn’t like it either. Never had. But you’d been forced into taking over the shop when your father passed away years ago. It was boring, the routine, and you couldn’t help your craving for something more.

For adventure.

“I heard that the last man who saw Taehyung’s face disappeared. Vanished right into thin air.”

You shook your head to snap yourself out of your thoughts and went back to work.

In, through. Pull. Around.

In, through. Pull. Aro--

“I heard that he looks like a monster.”

“A monster? Don’t be ridiculous, Lotty. I heard that he’s quite handsome. Likes to go into towns and seduce women to take as his own. Then he kills them afterwards!”

The needle fell from your fingers to dangle in between your legs by the threat still attached to the fabric. Frustrated at the lack of ability to focus due to the obnoxious women not working, you dropped the unfinished hat onto your work table. And pushed back your wooden stool to stand up.

The four women didn’t turn at your movement, didn’t even acknowledge your presence there. While they loved to gossip up a storm, they were good at what they did. So you didn’t berate them for their lack of work. Just grabbed your bag and slipped out the room and down the stairs. Maybe a few moments to yourself would do you well. You’d been stuck up in that stuffy shop for hours and taking a quick break wouldn’t hurt. Especially when you could barely focus on your work anyway.

The door to the shop closed tightly behind you and you took a moment to pull out a piece of cloth from your bag. Slipping it over your nose, you adjusted the thin straps of the face mask behind your ears until it sat perfectly. It wasn’t safe to step outside without one because the smog in the city was unhealthy to breathe in. Polluted by the airships that flew above your head and cast streaks of black smoke through the sky. From the four-wheeled cars that prowled the cobblestone streets like cats, puffing unbreathable air through the Square.

You hitched your bag higher up onto your shoulder as you took off at a sedated pace. There was a large amount of people crowding the streets, more so than what was usual in a city as large as that one. Perhaps it had something to do with the military parading through the roads on their way to the king’s castle as they returned from wherever they’d been. Taking up space like they owned the place. Like the citizens of Market Chipping actually wanted them there.

No one did. Not when your land of Ingary had been at war with the neighboring kingdom of Strangia for longer than you’d been alive. No one knew why exactly you were at odds with one another. Some debated that it had to do with stolen land, others insisted that the king of Strangia had done something to slight your own king. Whatever it was turned the land into a warzone.

“Hey, watch it!” A sharp elbow found its way into your side. And you stumbled back, a grunt falling from your throat as a short, middle aged man shoved past you with a glare.

He held a flag in his hand with the emblem of the royal family embroidered into it. Either he was on his way to protest the military parading through the city, or he was going to embrace them. While a majority of the people hated the presence of soldiers in Market Chipping, took to the streets to scream at them until they left. Some of the population praised them, welcomed them with open arms like they didn’t leave a trail of dead bodies and burned cities in their wake.

Because wherever the military went, death was soon to follow after.

You knew the main roads would’ve been packed from end to end with people and you didn’t feel like dealing with crowds. With more elbows forcing their way into the grooves of your ribs. So you took a shortcut through one of the alleyways closest towards your shop. They wouldn’t be as congested seeing as how almost all of the citizens poured themselves out into the streets for a reason.

So your journey was quiet. And your shoes scuffed at the ground as you wandered through the mazes between the buildings. The sounds of military vehicles driving through the streets that you could occasionally see through the gaps between buildings filled the silence. Along with shouts from the people pouring out of homes and hanging halfway out of the windows. Who sat on their balconies with heavy frowns on their faces.

A pair of single-manned airships flew above your head with the flag of the king following behind, attached to the backs of the machines to catch the air. You were close to your destination. Just needed to walk through a few more twisted alleyways until you made it.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

You didn’t stop when the deep growl hit your eardrums. Kept walking in hopes that whoever had tried to talk to you would take the hint and leave you alone.

“Hey!” A rough hand grabbed at the bag hanging from your shoulder and pulled you backwards. And you tripped over your own feet in an attempt to stay upright. “I’m talking to you!”

With another tug, you were sent careening back into someone’s chest. The stench of cigarettes and whiskey hit you like a wall and had you sending a glare over your shoulder. A man towered above you with a blue rimmed hat pulled down low across his forehead. But you could still see the dark eyes that glimmered beneath like a snake.

“You lost, little mouse?” His lips, chapped and thin and unhindered by the facemask pulled down to his chin, lifted up into a smirk that spelled nothing but trouble. The navy blue military blazer on his back didn’t bring you relief. Quite the opposite really. Especially when the backdoor to a pub hanging open behind him spilled out another man that came stumbling to his side.

Caged you in like an animal.

“Let go.” Your jaw clenched as you attempted to pull away from the hand that held onto your bag like a leash.

“What do we have here, Reny? Why don’t you let us help you find your way?” The second man had a dark caterpillar that sat atop his lip in the form of a mustache. He leaned down to fan his heated beer stained breath across your face and it was only the facemask that prevented you from smelling it. “And we’ll only ask for one thing in return. How’s that sound?”

The first man let go of your bag to watch you stumble backwards with an amused flash in his eyes. You bit your lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering. But it did nothing to prevent the fear from flooding your veins and taking hold of your throat.

“I’m not interested. Let me pass, please.” You hoped that they weren’t able to hear how loud your heart was beating.

They were bigger than you, stronger than you. And you didn’t know what they’d do if they got their hands on you. Weren’t sure how far you’d make it if you had to run. The closest main street was farther than you would have liked, to the point where you could barely hear the roar of the crowd.

The second man took a few steps closer towards you. “Aw, don’t be like that sweeth--”

“Are you deaf?” That voice didn’t come from either of the men in front of you. It brushed through your ears with its rich baritone and had you straightening where you stood, tense muscles unconsciously relaxing. Especially when an arm wound itself around your shoulders to settle with a comforting weight, bringing with it warmth that heated your skin. “Or are you just stupid?”

The first thing you saw was a slender hand decorated with a plethora of multicolored rings as it casually adjusted the bag hanging haphazardly from your shoulder. And you followed it up, and up until your eyes landed on who it was attached to.

You could only see his side profile, but that was all you needed to have your breath catch in your throat.

Harsh, but gentle, was the first thought that popped into your mind. His nose, while soft and rounded at the tip, contrasted with the sharp angle of his jawbone. Even his hair followed the same guidelines as the rest of him. It looked silky, smooth, but the dark curls it fell in across his forehead and to the nape of his neck made him appear innocent, and yet not.

“Because I believe that the lady said she wasn’t interested.” The voice that fell from the stranger’s bow shaped lips was deep, strong, and filled with a humorous edge that teased around the syllables.

He wasn’t looking at you, but his arm still around your shoulders gave off the same amount of heat that his gaze more than likely would.

“This has nothing to do with you. Mind your business.” One of the men, you didn’t know which because you’d yet to take your eyes off of the strange man, spoke.

You were sure that you would get a kink in your neck from how much you were straining to look up at the man towering over you. But you couldn’t help but stare, not when a smile perked up around the edges of his soft looking mouth. The stranger tilted his head to the side and the emerald earring dangling from a chain pierced through his ear brushed against tanned his neck.

“Or, here me out.” He lifted a single eyebrow and nodded pointedly at the still opened door to the pub behind the men. “You go back inside and leave this woman alone. How’s that sound?”

They didn’t respond.

Tearing your eyes away from a mole painted onto the tip of the man’s nose, you watched confusedly as the military men suddenly stood up straight. And with their gazes blank and mouths partially opened, they turned on their heels and staggered back inside the building like they’d never left it.

Like they’d been compelled to do so.

“Are you alright?”

You blinked yourself out of your stupor and turned to look back up at the man who’d saved you. With his complete and utter attention now focused on you, the breath that’d caught itself in your throat earlier struggled to remove itself. Which left you floundering with your mouth opening and closing, but no sound escaping.

“Miss?” He leaned in a little closer, brows knitting together in concern. And his eyes. They were the softest blue that you’d ever seen.

Clearing your throat, you nodded. “Yes, thank you for rescuing me.”

He smiled, a box-shaped, gentle thing that had his eyes creasing in the corners. You didn’t even think to wonder why he was outside without a mask. “No need to thank me.”

And then he winked.

Ah, a lady’s man then.

“Well, thank you anyway.” You smiled in return before stepping out from beneath his arm. And with a glance down the alleyway, you gestured over your shoulder. “I should get going.”

His arm dropped back down to his side, hidden beneath the dark blue and grey jacket that hung around his shoulders like a cape. The black, long-sleeve blouse-like shirt he wore stood out even amongst the darkened alley. “Where are you heading? I’ll escort you there.”

“You don’t have to, really. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time.” You tried to argue, not because you didn’t want him to, but because he’d already gone out of his way for you once. And you didn’t want him to feel obligated to do so a second time. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all.” The man stepped forward to rest a hand on your shoulder once again, only that time he turned you around to start walking down the alleyway. “Besides, someone needs to ensure that no more danger finds you.”

The pressure of his hand on your shoulder was gentle, but firm in the way he guided you. And when he leaned down to whisper in your ear, the look in his eyes was something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe if you would have spared a second to take another look, you would have seen it for the warning that it was.

“But just don’t look behind you.” The man’s breath was warm against the shell of your ear. “Because I’m being followed.”

Alarm sprang through you at his sudden admission. “Wha--?”

He merely winked at you and held a finger to his lips before leaning back out of your personal space. And when you tried to turn your head to look behind you, he stopped you with a hand to your cheek.

“Don’t look back. Just walk.”

The alleyway was long. Neverending. It encased the two of you in a bubble where even the loud shouts from the people in the streets couldn’t pierce through.

“Who’s following you?” You asked in a hushed whisper.

Still unnamed, the stranger glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. A lot of different things swam in the ocean that was his iris. Things that you couldn’t discern, things that were hidden just below the surface. And just as he went to part his lips in answer, his attention left you to focus on something behind you.

When you turned to look too, all you were able to see were shadows emerging from the alley walls like ghosts. With long, spindly-like limbs and headless bodies, they filled the spaces where the two of you had just vacated. Crawling over each other in an effort to reach the man at your side.

Fear bubbled in your throat. What the hell were those things?

“Sorry.” If he was trying to reassure you, he was doing a horrible job. “They weren’t supposed to find me so soon.”

Especially when the nameless creatures began to pour out of the walls in front of you like an endless tidal wave.

“Why are they--”

“No time.” The hand he had on your shoulder turned gripping as he quickly turned left at the fork in the alley and dragged you down it. “Just walk.”

Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline, but you did your best to keep up with his brisk stride anyway. A quick glance behind you had another bout of fear surging through you.

They were close.

How had you managed to escape one type of danger, just to wind up in the clutches of another?

You turned back to the front.

And let out a scream.

Because those creatures had cut you off again. Only now they moved faster, with their spider-like arms and gaping maws extended to capture you in their grasp. The man at your side let out a curse before stopping in his tracks to wrap both his arms around your waist.

“Hang on!”

Hang on?

“To what?”

Your question went unanswered. At least verbally.

The only warning you got was the tensing of the muscles in his slim arms before he leapt into their air. But it wasn’t an ordinary jump. Your feet left the cobbled ground and even with your face pressed into the stranger’s chest, you could still see if you looked down. Could see how one of the creature's claws missed your foot by a mere centimeter. Could see how they piled on top of each other as both sides crashed into the other in a wave of black.

You’d thought that the two of you would go falling right down onto them. That they’d devour you whole until you could no longer see the light of day. But you didn’t.

Because you were flying.

At least, that’s what you assumed when you continued to soar through the air like a wingless bird. And when the both of you cleared the rooftop of the building next to the alley, well, you couldn’t help but dig your fingers into the back of the stranger’s shirt.

“H-how is this happening?” Maybe if you weren’t a hundred feet in the air, you would have been embarrassed by the way your voice came out in a stuttered squeak. Or the way you clung to him like a particularly stubborn barnacle. But you weren’t. Because you’d never been so high up before in your entire life.

The man keeping you from falling to your death chuckled. It was a nice sound: smooth, deep and warm with his amusement. He pulled back a little, just far enough to let his eyes meet your own. Though that did little to loosen the death grip you had on him.

“Magic.” His boxy smile made another appearance as his gaze sparkled in mirth. More than likely at the wide-eyed, stunned expression on your face.

“You’re a wizard then?”

He merely winked in response before reaching behind him to grab at your wrists. “Do you trust me?”

“I..,” Your answer got stuck in your throat. Did you trust him? Hell, you didn’t even know his name. But he had saved you and your life was technically in his hands. So what harm could it bring really? To put your faith in a mere stranger? “I suppose so.”

“Then let go.”

“What?” Was he crazy?

His eyebrows raised playfully, disappearing behind his curly bangs. “Trust me. Let go.”

You hesitated, gaze snapping back downwards at the city below. At the streets filled to the brim and packed with people who looked no bigger than ants. If you fell, you’d die. Become nothing more than a splatter on the cobblestoned streets.

As your heart raced in your chest, you looked back up at the man with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Well, you’d wanted adventure, right?

Ever so slowly, you loosened the tight grip you had on his shirt until your palms were pressed flat against his back. His grip on your wrists was loose, not enough to keep you up should you fall. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from him completely.

And didn’t fall.

“See?” You could hear the smile in his voice even when you were too busy staring at your floating feet to look at him. “Now, are you ready for the best part?”

“Best part?” The question left you with a voice filled with wonder.

The stranger hummed and used his grip on your wrists to spin you around until your back was to his chest. His hands on you were barely there, just hovering beneath your fingertips. And when he leaned down to murmur in your ear, the scent of him flooded your senses.

Sweet like freshly mowed grass on a summer evening.

“Yes. Now walk!”

You were positive now: he was absolutely crazy. Magic or not. “But we aren’t standing on anything.”

“Didn’t I say to trust me?” He mused.

Though he didn’t give you a chance to respond because he took a few steps forward, which in turn made you follow. Made a gasp leave your lips when your feet hit something solid that wasn’t there. As you continued to walk through the air like it was completely normal.

Magic. You’d only ever seen it displayed from afar where you could barely make out the details, never up close. Never to the point where you could feel it rippling off the man at your back like it was second nature. It was...it was…

“Amazing.”

“You like it?” The man smiled at you from the corner of your eye. “This is always my favorite part. Look down.”

And you did.

From the ground the city always looked drab. Lifeless. Dull. But from up high, where the pollution didn’t quite reach? It didn’t look so bad. Not when the brightly painted rooftops stood out amongst the grey slated military vehicles, like a beam of light in the dark.

“I believe that this is your stop.” The man’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Drew your attention to the fact that the two of you were descending into an area that looked very familiar.

Your feet touched down on a balcony attached to the side of a building. One you’d stood on many times before. When you turned to look at the man who’d just flown you halfway across the city, he had his arms planted on the wooden railing like he belonged there. Despite the fact that he was hovering in the air on the other side.

“Unfortunately, I have some things to go take care of. But I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” He threw you a charming wink. “So try not to find anymore trouble in the meantime, okay?”

You nodded slowly with a smile forming on your lips. “I’ll try my best.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for you to really see it. “Good girl.”

And then he flew out of sight as if he’d never been there in the first place.

Like the pop of a bubble, the noise of the crowded streets came flooding in. And with the roar of the protesting yells brought a thought to your mind.

How did he know where you were headed? You’d never told him.

The inside of the building was just familiar as the outside. However, unlike the raging streets outside, once you’d closed the balcony doors behind you, you’d been enveloped in silence. Not even the shouts from beyond the four walls surrounding you could enter inside. Which, to be completely honest, gave you a little bit of peace. There was only so much yelling you could take.

Old wooden stairs creaked beneath the weight of your feet as you descended the well worn staircase to the bottom floor. With your facemask safely deposited in your bag, the scent of baked bread hypnotized your nose as you followed the smell. The swinging door to the kitchen swung open underneath your hand with a squeak to announce your presence.

“Hey.” You greeted the man on the opposite end of the room. He stood with his back towards you, the strings of a white apron tied behind his neck and right above his broad shoulders. Before you’d announced your presence, the man had been bobbing his head to a soundless tune as his hands rolled out fresh dough onto the countertop.

“Y/n?” His head turned to look over his shoulder, and once he spotted you in the doorway, his plump lips pulled back into a grin. “It’s been a while.”

You snorted, pushing off the doorframe to walk across the room. “I just saw you like, three days ago, Seokjin.”

“What?” Even though Seokjin had turned back around to continue kneading the dough, you could practically hear the pout on his lips. “Am I not allowed to miss my little sister?”

Despite the fact that he was the older sibling by a few years, sometimes it felt more like the opposite. Shaking your head, you couldn’t help the smile on your face as you leaned your side against the counter. From where you stood in the kitchen, you were just able to see through the glassless window cut out of the wall and into the front of Seokjin’s bakery.

“How’s business been?” You asked, lip caught between your teeth. The front of the shop was empty of customers, leaving the freshly baked sweets to sit beneath the glass case untouched.

A sigh left your brother’s lips and he stopped in his work to send a sad look through the window. “Same as usual.”

It wasn’t that Seokjin was bad at baking or anything. Quite the opposite. However, with the war going on, not many people had the extra money to spend on pastries and things that could be considered “non-essential.” The only reason your brother’s shop was able to stay afloat was from his usual customers that never failed to buy from him.

Hell, you didn’t even know how you managed to keep your hat shop open.

“Things will turn around.” You tried to reassure him, gaining a tiny smile from Jin in return. “The war can’t go on forever.”

“Hopefully you’re right about that one.” He was frowning again, eyes dull as his thoughts drifted away somewhere you couldn’t follow. After a moment he shook his head. “Speaking of, how did you get here with all those people and cars in the streets?”

“I--” Crossing your arms over your chest, you contemplated how to tell your brother that you’d simply flown over the rooftops like a bird. “I...met a wizard.”

Seokjin choked on his spit. “A what?”

You broke eye contact with an awkward clearing of your throat. “A wizard.”

“Y/n.” His tone turned stern like the elder sibling he was. “A wizard? Seriously? You should know better how dangerous they can be.”

Staring down at the toe of your shoe that you dug into the wooden floorboards, you shrugged half-heartedly. “I know, but he saved me, Seokjin.”

Jin released a haggard, deep sigh and you could see his shoulders slump out of the corner of your eye. “Yes well, be more careful next time, alright? It could have been someone dangerous, like you-know-who. Or the Wi--”

Ring!

Both you and Seokjin snapped your heads back to the front of the store just in time to see a man meander through. He had a dark blue hat pulled down low over his eyes and a walking cane clutched in one of his hands. And when the bottom of his long coat brushed across the floor as he approached the front counter, Jin wiped his hands on the front of his apron.

“Hello!” He called to the man looking at the sweets beneath the glass case, an inquisitive expression on his face. Your brother’s hand squeezed your shoulder once as he walked past you towards the front.

This conversation isn’t over. It said. Don’t think I’ll forget.

Well, you’d take that for the dismissal that it was.

Your home was dark, quiet, once the front door was shut behind you.

The hat shop was attached to the bottom of your house, but only you had the key to get upstairs to where you lived. And with the sun long set beneath the skyline and the moon in its place, everyone had gone home. Which left you.

Alone.

Like always.

You knew that if you told Seokjin how lonely you truly felt, how you hated being alone, he wouldn’t hesitate to open his doors for you. But he had enough problems on his own plate and you didn’t want to intrude on him and his fiancé anyway. They’d just recently gotten engaged, so you didn’t even want to think about how awkward it would be if you moved in with them.

Friends weren’t something that you had aplenty of either. If any at all. Not that you were too shy to make any, you just didn’t know how. Living in a city surrounded by people all the time was actually very lonely. And making connections beyond the work relationships you had with your employees was excruciatingly difficult.

So you’d just forced yourself to suck it up. To deal with the aching longing you had deep in your gut.

A sigh escaped your lips as you dropped your bag onto the floor of your bedroom. However, just as you were about to start undressing to change into your pajamas, you felt the fluttering of a breeze brushing against your skin. Frowning, you turned to look questioningly at your open bedroom window. Because you could have sworn that you’d closed it that morning. You never left it open when you weren’t home.

As another gentle gush of wind played with the curtains on either side of the window, you hurried over to slide it shut.

“You really should keep that locked.”

That wasn’t your voice.

With a gasp, you whirled around and pressed yourself back against the glass of the window. Your heart leapt to your throat the second that you caught sight of the man standing in the center of your bedroom. Where you’d just been not only a few seconds ago.

You didn’t recognize him. Had never seen him before. And either he could feel the fear that flooded your veins like white hot fire, or he could tell by the expression on your face, because his dark green eyes flickered.

“Wh--who--” You couldn’t even get the sentence out past your trembling mouth. So you snapped it shut and glanced to the opened door behind him, the one that would lead back out into the hallway by the staircase. Maybe you could make it if you were quick enough.

“Don’t even think about it, little dove.” His voice, while not as deep as you would have expected, was still intimidating all the same. Even with the amused way the words left his mouth. And either he’d read your mind, or you were just ridiculously obvious with your thoughts. “You wouldn’t make it very far, and you’d just piss me off. And you don’t want to piss me off, do you, Dove?”

Swallowing, you shook your head slowly. Watched as the man ran a hand through his neat blond hair. And when he smiled, his eyes scrunched up in the corners. Though it did well to make him appear less threatening, you didn’t believe it for a second.

“What do you want?” God, you silently cursed yourself for not turning the lights on in your room. Because the dark made it so much worse. Made him look like a demon apparating out of thin air.

He didn’t answer. Not right away. Just crossed the room like he owned it and you were the trespasser. Watched the way you pressed yourself further back against the window like it could somehow save you. Even if it was still open, you wouldn’t have been able to survive the three story drop to the ground. But that fact didn’t stop you from trying to pull up the latch anyway.

“You’re not at all what I expected.” He slowed in his approach, head tilting to the side like he was analysing a wild animal. And it seemed as if he were talking to himself, like you weren’t even there. “But that doesn’t matter.”

Just as your fingers lifted the latch on the window, he crossed the remaining feet separating you in a flash and slammed his hand down on yours. A shock of pain shot up through your arm, tearing a gasp from your lips.

“I told you not to piss me off.” The man tutted. He was close enough to look down at you, eyes raking your face as if in search of something. Close enough for his scent to wash over you and threaten to drown you in the pure heaviness to it. Like the pollution that filled the air outside, or the ache of loneliness that would sometimes pang deep within your chest. And when his full lips turned up into a smirk, you swallowed. Hard.

“It seems you’re no good with directions, but no matter.” His free hand came up to grab your chin between his fingers hard enough to dig into your skin. Slamming your eyes shut, you weren’t sure what he was going to do. Kill you maybe. Probably. Most likely.

But what you didn’t expect, was for him to lean forward and press his lips to your forehead in a kiss. Your eyes widened at the softness of his mouth, a stark contrast to the painful grip he had on you, and couldn’t help the confusion that took root in your heart. Especially with the invisible static that drifted off the man in waves.

It was familiar, almost, to the wizard from the alleyway. But not quite. Tinted with a wrongness that raised the hair on the back of your neck.

And when he pulled away with one last squeeze of your chin, his words echoed through your mind like he’d planted them there.

“You really should have let yourself get killed in that alley. How unfortunate for you. But no matter, give Taehyung my regards.”

Your eyes shot open, only to find your room empty.

Or maybe that was just because your world went dark.

Something felt off.

Even with your eyes still closed and your mind barely conscious, you felt it.

Like everything was slow, groggy. Not quite right.

With a groan, you peeled your heavy eyes open and stared blankly at the bottom of your dresser. It didn’t register at first that your cheek was pressed to the wooden floor of your bedroom until a few more moments of empty blinking. Of forcing your eyes back open when they threatened to close.

God, you were so tired.

And the last thing you remembered was hazy, blurry like a well-forgotten dream. No matter how hard you tried to recall the events that lead up to you sprawled across the floor like a dog, you failed. Slipped through your fingers just before you closed your hand around the memories.

Another groan had you shifting to try and sit up properly. Your muscles ached, joints ached, everything ached. And the pounding headache that threatened to turn your brain to mush wasn’t helping.

“What…” The word came out as nothing more than a barely-there whisper, tongue dry and stuck to the roof of your mouth like you’d eaten sand. It wasn’t until you stood up that you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye.

A scream bubbled up in your throat, but left just as quickly in a whoosh of hot air. Because staring back at you through the reflection in the mirror above your desk, was an old woman. Her face was wrinkled with crows feet and laugh lines, drooping like the flesh was barely hanging on. And she stood hunched over as if she were unable to fully stand up. Though it wasn’t the way her grey hair stiffened around her shoulders that had your stomach dropping.

No.

It was her eyes that caught your attention and refused to let go.

Because they were your eyes. When you blinked, the old woman blinked like a mirror.

It couldn’t...you couldn’t…

With a shaking hand, you slowly lifted your fingers to your face and the old woman echoed the movement.

“Holy shit.” You croaked. And yet again, the old woman did the same.

You were...her...but how…?

Grimacing to fight off the panic that tightened your throat, you closed your eyes in an attempt to think back on how the hell you’d ended up that way. But…

Nothing.

Only a bodiless voice that whispered through your memory on a loop that you could barely hear.

“But no matter, give Taehyung my regards.”

“Tae...hyung?” Your tongue tasted his name like it was something foreign. And you felt a brief flicker of alarm at having said his name aloud. The wizard who lived in the castle whose parents told the children about to scare them from sneaking out of the house.

Your eyes snapped back open in fear. There was a lot of power in a name. But when you met your own gaze in the mirror once again, you blew out a small sigh of relief at your bedroom being empty. However…

...maybe..?

Were you supposed to find him? To have him undo whatever curse had been casted upon you. Was that right? Was that why his name kept repeating on a loop that you couldn’t silence? But he was dangerous, would more than likely outright slit your throat before offering you a favor. Then again, you’d seen no proof to those rumors, so maybe they weren’t true.

Or maybe you were just trying to fool yourself into going off in search of him.

But you couldn’t continue to live life as an old woman. Hell, your lifespan had more than likely been sliced down to almost nothing now. So, it was either die by the sudden onslaught of old age or take your chances with a dark wizard.

What choice did you really have?

The city of Market Chipping wasn’t grand like the Capital. Nor was it as pretty to look at. But you still felt an ache within your chest as you stared down at it from your spot on top of a hill. You’d never left the city before, never had a reason to. And with the tall grass brushing against the exposed skin of your ankles beneath your dress, you felt a certain sadness that you never would have expected.

Shaking your head of the thoughts, you gave one last lingering look to the city and turned your back on it. On everything you had ever known. Hopefully Seokjin would take the note you’d left to be delivered without question. He knew you well, would more than likely believe the lie you wove about wanting to set off on an adventure. With luck, he wouldn’t worry.

But that was unlikely.

The sooner you found Taehyung and convinced him to undo whatever curse had been put upon you that you couldn’t remember, the sooner you could return home. If you survived, that was.

“I will.” You weren’t sure who you were trying to assure: yourself, or the miles of empty grassland around you.

The area beyond Market Chipping was mountainous, filled with tall hills and rocks that sprawled amongst the grass that you never saw within the city. You had a plan in mind, at least the base of one. And while you shuffled along as quickly as your aged body could move--which wasn’t very much at all--you tried to figure out how you were going to find a person who didn’t want to be found.

It was well known that Taehyung moved around alot, given his home of choice. But he’d been within the area yesterday morning, so that had to count for something, right? He couldn't have wandered off very far. At least that’s what you were aiming for.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking for. It was difficult to tell time when you didn’t have a watch on you. The only things you’d thought to bring with you was some food and a blanket stuffed into your bag. You’d packed light in hope of not needing to be gone long.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you hadn’t come across another living being for hours. Not since you’d hitched a ride on the back of a farmer’s wagon up one of the trails. So you were bored, and incredibly exhausted. Such an old body got tired a lot quicker than you were used to. Despite that fact, you had to convince yourself to stop and take a break.

Which was exactly how you found yourself lying back in a spot on the grass, arms stretched out and eyes closed. You hadn’t meant to drift off to sleep, to take a nap right out in the open where anyone could find you. But your breath evened out before you realized it and the sounds of the wind brushing the grass lulled you to sleep.

Psh!

You awoke with a start.

Eyes shooting open, you mentally cursed yourself when you saw that the sun had set. Just how long had you been asleep for? And what, exactly, had woken you?

Slowly sitting up, you cast your gaze around the surroundings that you were able to see beneath the light of the full moon. There were no lanterns, no street lamps that far out into the wilderness, so you weren’t able to make out much.

Psh!

The high pitched whistle of steam had your head snapping to the right. Your eyes narrowed in an attempt to see with the lack of light to no avail. Holding your breath, you refused to move lest you miss whatever it was that you’d heard. Until movement caught your eye near the edge of one of the taller cliffsides.

“That’s convenient.” You mumbled, scrambling to your feet as quickly as you could. Perhaps your luck was beginning to turn around because right before you was the very thing that you’d been searching for.

The castle was huge, bigger than the tallest building in Market Chipping. But it didn’t look like a building, nor did it appear to be a castle. It was stuck somewhere in the middle, with a metal and steel structure that held itself together in a plethora of different shapes. Three legs stuck out of the bottom as it slowly propelled itself in your direction. And steam wafted from two gigantic metal chimneys at the stop of the monstrous castle.

Even though it must have been extremely heavy, the ground barely shook upon impact. And as it slowed to a stop a few meters away, you sucked in a deep breath. Maybe you were getting a little in over your head. Hell, it wasn’t too late to turn back and head home, even if you were in the body of an old woman. Surely that would be better than death at the hands of a dark wizard.

Right?

No, no. You couldn’t turn back now. You refused to be a coward. Besides, you’d think of it as karma from praying for an adventure so many times.

With a loud burst of steam, the castle lowered itself from its great, towering height and closer to the ground. Despite the darkness surrounding you, the door that led inside could be seen almost as clear as day. You took another deep breath. And shuffled forward.

When you came upon the three stepped porch that led up to the door, you grabbed onto the metal railing before you could doubt yourself again. Climbing stairs, even as little as three, was enough to leave you puffing for breath.

And as the heels of your shoes tapped across the wooden porch, and your hand reached out towards the doorknob, you grabbed on.

And swung the door open.

Tagging: @chimchimsauce @naajix @adoreyoukoo @ihaveakoreanseoul @btsarmysvtcarat @red--aren @micchikari @worldwidemochiguy @taebaelou @stardust-and-ashes @callmeyourstarrynight @ddaeng-whispers @kpopgirlbtssvt @byebyebycycle @busangloss @futuristicpinklemur @pjmlylyn @krystle1990 @parkchimchiminie @missseoulite @wannabesoftstanhaha @hxsxxk-180294 @leilalago @doodlesandthings @btsxarii @thedarkwinterrose @saxpam24 @kawaiikiwithefruit @someonewhowannadielol @starrytae @lume0801

#bts #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #taehyung #taehyung fic #bts fic

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch30: Winter Is Here

Summary: In the wake of the UN Bombing, Steve, Katie and Sam (with help from Sharon) track Bucky to Bucharest and face a race against time to track him down before the CTU. But someone else is also following Bucky, someone who’s been one step ahead and the consequences are disastrous.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Elements of this have been reworked/rewritten…for reasons which will become apparent at some point!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 29 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bucky liked Bucharest. It was easy enough to blend in and he’d found work at a local Warehouse easily enough. It was no questions asked, cash in hand and no trail. Perfect. Physical labour didn’t bother him, neither did taking the nightshifts which no one else seemed to want. It meant he could sleep most of the days and emerge later at night meaning he had even less people to encounter and deal with. Not that it really mattered, no one really bothered him apart from the Old Lady that lived a few floors down. Bucky often did odd jobs for her, just like he had used to for the old couple that lived across from his parents in Brooklyn before the war.

Since arriving in Europe in September last year, his life had been pretty peaceful. His memories had started to flash back almost the instant he wasn’t re-wiped by HYDRA, but they were random, non-chronological, so he had started writing them in a notebook along with other snippets and facts he found along the way which helped him piece together the parts of the puzzle that was his life. He knew his name, his date of birth, who his parents were, his siblings, Steve- his brother-from-another-Mother, the Howling Commandos, Steve’s wife- Katie, his ‘death’ and then… well, that bit he tried not to remember on purpose.

He felt better, like himself, and had on more than one occasion thought about reaching out to Steve. But the thing was, even though he’d now been out of HYDRA control for over two years, he knew that what they had done to him or put in his head was still there, and he didn’t want to give anyone the chance to find out the hard-way or give them chance to lock him up like some lab rat. So he had decided it was best to stay off radar.

Pulling his cap down a little, he headed over to his favourite fruit store for some plums. He remembered what a treat they had been back before the war, and he enjoyed the fact they were so readily available now. He reached out with his flesh hand to gently test one.

“How are they? Are they good?” He asked the vendor in Romanian who nodded to him, smiling “Okay. Give me six, thank you”

With his bag of fruit he walked along, casually scanning around as he ate. And then, across the street, he spotted a vendor at a news-stand watching him. Bucky glanced away hastily then looked back at the man who was still watching him before he suddenly turned and ran from his kiosk. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Bucky made his way over and picked up a paper reading the front page which contained a number of surveillance-photos and the head line: ‘Winter Soldier cautat pentru Bombardmentul din Viena’.

A cold feeling washed all over him and he glanced around, swallowing thickly.

He might have struggled with his memory in the past but he could categorically say this wasn’t one of those times. This wasn’t him, granted it looked like him, but it wasn’t.

Shit, he needed to hide.

Pulling his cap down further, jacket pulled up round his neck he set off home.

****** Having your own private plane certainly has its perks. Katie, Sam and Steve made their way to Vienna and from there, after being given a lead from Sharon, they headed to Bucharest. Steve and Sam had brought all their equipment whereas Katie had opted to simply pack her cat suit and utility belt as they weren’t anticipating any action.

A decision she was starting to regret now.

“Nice place.” Katie commented sarcastically, pulling at the neck of her leather cat-suit as they entered the old rundown apartment that Bucky Barnes now called home. Steve ignored the comment before he carefully closed the door behind them. The two of them ventured further into the small darkened apartment, the windows had been taped over with old newspapers keeping out most of the sunlight and prying eyes. Steve’s shield caught a few of the spots of light which were creeping through tears and gaps in the paper, sending reflections onto bits of the apartment walls. The bedroom and the living area were one, a tattered mattress placed just beneath the window a small desk and lamp next to it. Across from the bed near the entrance was a metal table with two chairs next to it, then there was the kitchen area and a door, which Katie headed through, gun at the ready, finding nothing but a small, grimy and empty bathroom.

She couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sadness in her gut that the man who had saved her life, a war veteran, was living like this.

Steve took to looking around the kitchen and had found a notebook of sorts with tabs of varying colours sticking out from amongst the pages. As he flicked through he found a leaflet on the Smithsonian Captain America exhibit.

"Heads up guys, German Special Forces approaching from the South.” Sam’s voice came through the coms.

“Understood.” Steve replied gently, replacing the leaflet in the page he had found it, fingers lingering on the paper. He looked up at Katie as she re-entered the room.

“Nobody’s home.” She said softly. “What you got there?” “It’s a journal.” Steve said, “He’s been writing down memories and-“

He stopped dead as a movement crossed his peripheral and his head jerked up. Over his wife’s shoulder he locked eyes with Bucky for the first time since that day over the Potomac. Katie, noticing his demeanour, glanced over her shoulder and instantly spun round to see Bucky watching the pair of them with a cautious sort of curiosity.

“Do you know me?” Steve asked carefully, setting the book he was flipping through down on the cluttered counter. He moved in front of Katie slightly, keeping himself between her and his best friend who was stood stock still, eyeing them up.

“You’re Steve,” Bucky said roughly, “I read about you in a museum.” He added immediately, nodding to himself.

Play dumb, Bucky, play dumb…

“They’ve set the perimeter.” Sam spoke in their ears.

“I know you’re nervous, and you’ve got plenty of reason to be, but you’re lying.” Steve spoke calmly, not believing him for a second. He could always tell when Bucky was lying, even as kids he wouldn’t look you in the eye fully, and now wasn’t any different.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.” Bucky’s voice wavered slightly, almost pleading with them to believe him. And instantly Katie did.

“They’re entering the building. “ Sam urged.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now.” Katie took a small step forward so that she was slightly in front of Steve. “And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart. Good strategy.” He looked at her, cocking his head to one side as he studied her. She was oozing confidence, are far cry from the broken, shattered woman he had rescued last year, and she didn’t seem afraid of him. Which he liked but also didn’t because it meant they weren’t going to just let him slip away.

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised!”

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight ,Buck.” Steve pleaded desperately while Bucky simply walked over to the table set down his plastic bag and pulled off his glove to reveal his metal hand.

“It always ends in a fight.” He said balling the metal into a fist, his voice lilted with sadness.

“Five seconds.”

“You pulled me from the river and you saved Katie’s life that day in La Ronde.” Steve’s voice took on an urgent tone, almost shouting. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky replied in frustration finally looking up at Steve and locking eyes with him before he glanced to Katie. Truth be told he did know. That day on the Potomac something had broken his programming, and when Steve had plunged to the river he had known he had to save him, because he had been saving him all his punk-assed life. And then with Katie, well, even before he had recognised her he couldn’t leave a dame to the mercy of HYDRA, not after what they did to him. It was wrong…his ma taught him better.

“Three seconds.”

“Yes you do.” Steve responded,

“Breach, breach, breach!” Came the yell into their earpieces.

Both Steve and Katie looked towards the window prompting Bucky to do the same and in the next second a flash bomb was thrown through, Steve batted it right back out with his shield and then a second bomb came through the other window. Bucky booted it towards Steve who dropped and covered it with his shield, containing the blast. All three of them looked at one another for a split second before a loud bang sounded as the door rattled. Katie quickly kicked the edge of the table so that it wedged between the door and the wall blocking the German Forces entrance for now.

Whilst she was distracted with that, a final bomb was thrown and Bucky lifted up the dirty mattress using it as protection for them both. She nodded to him gently as he tossed it away and then came the soldiers on zip lines through the window. The first landed in the kitchen, training his gun first on Steve, then across towards Bucky, but before he could shoot Steve pulled the rug from beneath him and he ended up firing into the ceiling. The next came in through the window right next to Bucky but he punched him in the face, throwing him over to Katie who aimed a kick at his arm, knocking the gun out of it before kicking him again in the chest, sending him sprawling into the bathroom. Bucky picked the third soldier up easily and slammed him into the wall, letting him fall down.

“Buck, stop! You’re gonna kill someone.” Steve ran forward, but Bucky easily dodged him and slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the floor.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone!” He growled, punching a hole into the floor. He grabbed a backpack from under the floorboards and threw it across the room and out of the window. Then came more gun fire and Katie dropped to the floor, rolling to her right and firing a shot in the direction of the shooting hearing a yell as her bullet hit her target in the knee. Steve, again, flung his shield up and Bucky shoved him hard in the back sending him flying into another solider, taking him down. Katie scrambled to her feet again unable to do anything but watch as Bucky punched a hole through the wall next to the door before bashing it open and continuing to fight his way out.

“You alright?” Steve asked, as she dusted herself off.

“This isn’t exactly going to plan is it?” She shook her head as they ran out of the door just in time to see Bucky jump on a soldier who was descending from a zip wire and swinging down a level in the stairwell of the apartment block. One of the soldiers was screaming into his radio. Steve grabbed it from him, then smashed it with his foot before he jumped down a level after Bucky. Katie, took the sensible option and ran down the stairs, taking out anyone blocking her way.

Bucky was punching soldiers left and right until he ducked as he hit another accidentally sending him over the railing, but Steve was quick to catch him by his vest.

“Come on man,” He sighed wearily. Bucky’s only response was a shrug which he emphasized by elbowing a soldier that was behind him, while Steve pulled up the one he was holding onto and tossed him into a wall. Bucky jumped over the railing down several flights but by the time Steve caught up with him he had dodged into an apartment and jumped from the railings

“Damned it!” Steve cursed as he watched Bucky land on the lower roof of the neighbouring building with some force, but he simply rolled as if the fall hadn’t bothered him at all, picked up his backpack and ran. But he didn’t get far, a muscular man clad entirely in black slammed into him from behind knocking him down.

“Sam southwest rooftop.” Steve suddenly reported to Sam as he watched the man in the black suit, which looked very much like a big cat moved with breath-taking agility and grace, slashing with sharp claws on each hand as he tackled Bucky.

“Who the hell’s the other guy?” Sam asked Steve on the coms.

“I’m about to find out.” Steve backed up before he too launched himself from the balcony down onto the neighbouring building. Katie ran into the apartment just in time to see him land on the other roof-top and she frowned at the mystery man in some form of cat suit who was lunging at Bucky with his claws. Bucky grabbed his wrists holding him off but at that moment a helicopter that had appeared began to fire its machine gun. Both Katie from her vantage point, and Steve who was bolting towards the men, frowned as he saw the ammo ping back off the man’s suit just like it did off his shield.

“Sam…” Katie said as Steve continued to run towards Bucky, shield raised. Sam understood what she was implying instantly.

“Got him.” He replied, flying down he spun under the chopper, grabbing the rails at the bottom, spinning it off course before swooping off. As Katie continued to watch Bucky leapt off the side of the roof to the floor, and the mystery cat man followed using his claws for traction down the side of the building. Steve was shortly behind, rolling along the floor before picking himself up and running after the pair of them, Sam flying behind. Then, the helicopter began to follow, gunfire tearing up the side walk.

“Shit.” Katie ran down and emerging into the street, sprinting as fast as she could. Spotting an abandoned motorbike which had been ditched in the fracas she hopped on and sped after them, mentally thanking Natasha for the bike driving lessons.

It was chaos, absolute chaos. Bucky jumped down through a gap into the underpass, Steve and the mystery cat man following, as they themselves were being pursued by an armoured vehicle. Well, at least they were until Steve managed to pull the driver out and take the vehicle himself. He saw a motorbike coming up behind him in the mirrors and did a double take as he saw it was Katie. She pulled up alongside him and with one hand she grabbed the passenger door and yanked it open, before placing both her hands on the rim of the door and using it as leverage to swing herself feet first into the car.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve asked, open mouthed as she dropped into the seat next to him.

“Nat.” She shrugged, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do or be taught. Steve gave a small smirk and then turned to look back at the road, switching lanes and cruising past mystery cat man. Then there was a thud and Katie glanced back over her shoulders. Mystery cat man had latched himself onto the back of the car.

“Hold on!” Steve yelled before swerving the car to the right then the left hoping to dislodge him but no such luck. He even rammed the side of the car into another Special Forces vehicle but nothing, he hung tight.

“Sam we can’t shake this guy.” Steve reported.

“Right behind you.”

In front of them Bucky jumped the barrier to the other side of the road so Steve dropped the car a gear and pressed harder on the gas, breaking straight through it. A quick glance through the mirrors told Katie that it was enough to slow down the Germans but not to dislodge their passenger.

“This guy is more of a pain in the ass than Tony.” Katie sighed, turning back to look out of the front. Just as she did, Bucky clearly decided he needed his own mode of transportation and grabbed the handle bars of a motorbike which was speeding towards him. He dislodged the driver in mid-air while the bike spun and threw his leg over the seat all in one fluid motion. He then landed and sped away.

“Holy shit!” Katie let out a small laugh of disbelief, her jaw dropping slightly as she smirked at Bucky’s unbelievable display of acrobatics. “Did you see that?”

Steve looked at her for a split second, taking in the smirk on her face as she admired Bucky’s agility, surprised to feel he was slightly jealous. With a sigh, more at himself than anything, he shook his head. That insecure little kid from Brooklyn really had picked the most inappropriate time to appear. It didn’t help when she spoke again, a cheeky lilt to her voice.

“Can you do that?”

Steve shot her a glare that would make anyone else shake in their boots but it made Katie do nothing but frown at the open display of hostility he very rarely used on her. Before she could respond, however, there was a thud on the roof as mystery cat man climbed on top of the car and then launched himself at Bucky. The soldier on the bike was prepared though, and grabbed him around the throat, flinging him over his head. But the mystery cat man was persistent, hanging on even as the bike tipped and Bucky was forced to use his metal hand so that he didn’t fall off the bike completely. He kicked the cat man away before straightening his bike and speeding ahead.

Steve swerved to avoid running mystery cat man over while he caught other means of transportation, meaning he grabbed onto Sam’s legs as he was flying by. Ahead of them Bucky threw a sticky bomb at the top of the overpass which immediately went off and began raining down debris.

“Time to go.” Steve grabbed Katie as he slammed on the breaks turning the car sharply. He pulled her out of the door, using his shield to land on as the car began to tilt on its side. They dodged through the rubble, Steve’s shield over their heads and once they were clear, Steve sped off to where the cat man was mounted on top of Bucky ready to rip his throat out.

Sam emerged from the dust but seconds later there was loud clang and War Machine landed holding up his hand with repulsor beams at the ready in warning. More German Special Forces arrived and they knew the game was up. But Steve and Katie both looked at each other, chests heaving with exertion and dare they say it, relief. They had located Bucky after years of searching, he was still alive and could be questioned, which meant there was a chance they could clear all this up.

Steve felt Bucky step forward, and he instantly held his arm out to stop him. .

“Stand down now.” Rhodey spoke with authority and the Special Forces aimed their guns at them all. Steve relented placing his shield onto his back harness showing compliance as he held his hands up, palms outwards.

“Congratulations Cap, you’re a criminal.” Rhodey said sarcastically. As soldiers surrounded Bucky forcing him down to his knees so they could hand cuff him tightly.

Katie and Sam raised their hands in surrender as the soldiers approached them too. The mystery cat man was the last to comply retracting his claws and reaching up to his helmet.

“Call them off Rhodey.” Katie looked at him, nodding to the soldier who had his gun trained on her “We’ll come quietly.”

Rhodey turned to look at her and then nodded at the officer, who lowered his gun, but that didn’t stop them from handcuffing her. As she shot a look over her shoulder at the man who was slapping on the restraints she gave him a small smirk and then turned back to look at mystery cat man, just as he pulled off his mask.

“What the…” Katie frowned, recognising him instantly. It was T’Challa, the prince of Wakanda.

“Your highness.” Rhodey said.

There was a scuffle to Katie’s right and she turned to see that Bucky was being hauled to the floor.

“Don’t hurt him.” She turned to Rhodey, pleading with him. “Please. He saved my life, he’s still a human being!”

Rhodey hesitated slightly but then one of the soldiers shoved Katie in the back.

“Move.” he said in a thick accent.

“Say please.” She spun round, glaring at him. “Fucking asshole.”

“Katie.” Steve instructed gently as he walked towards her, being marched by two other soldiers. She turned to him and he gave a small shake of his head, warning her not to start another fight, before he nodded towards the black SUV.

“You know what the worse bit about all this is?” Katie sighed, as she fell into step beside Steve.

Steve looked at her, “No, what?”

“The lecture I’m going to get off Tony.”

One they had been stripped of their weapons and gear they were released from their handcuffs. Rubbing her wrists, Katie raised an eyebrow at Rhodey.

“Now what?”

“You’ll be given chance to change and clean up before going to Berlin,” Rhodey said, as the side of the SUV they were by opened and they were instructed to climb in. “Where you’ll be put into the custody of the Anti-Terrorism Unit.”

“So we’re terrorists now?” Katie snorted.

“You knew what would happen if you went against the law.”

She gave a sarcastic, fake yawn and behind her Sam sniggered before he looked at Rhodey

“This make you feel good?” Sam asked.

“Okay, enough!” Steve loudly shut down the petty squabble that was about to erupt between the two men “Yes, Rhodey we knew what would happen, but we also knew what would happen if we didn’t.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“That you would never have taken him alive.” He nodded to where Bucky was being hauled into the back of a separate vehicle. “And you know that too.”

******

“So you like cats?”

“Sam.” Steve scolded as Katie snorted, looking out of the window of the SUV as they drove over a bridge that crossed the River Spree. T’Challa was on the front row of the SUV alone, then Steve and Katie had sat on the middle, Sam on the back row.

“What?” Sam asked innocently. “Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna’ know more?”

Katie was inclined to agree, Steve however, was curious about something else.

“Your suit. It’s Vibranium?” He asked in interest.

“The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations.” T'Challa began slowly. “A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

T'Challa turned his head to look Steve directly in the eye then turned back around without another word as Steve clenched his jaw.

They arrived at the CIA base in Berlin in record time thanks to the police convey that kept the streets clear. The base was crawling with heavily armed soldiers as they stepped out of the van and were led inside. Katie shrugged on her leather jacket, pausing as Bucky’s cage followed them being moved by a small forklift. Besides her Steve stiffened as he looked over at Bucky and Katie gently placed her hand on at the bottom of his back. Bucky looked at the pair of them before he turned away as he was taken off in a separate direction.

After an introduction of sorts to Thaddeus Ross (Sharon’s boss) they were informed their weapons would be placed in a lock up, prompting Sam to snarl angrily- “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” They were then led over a walkway and Katie looked past Ross and saw a familiar redhead walking towards them. Natasha’s face was blank as she strode down the walkway.

“For the record.” She snapped as she looked at the three of them in turn before she focussed on Steve. “This is what making things worse looks like.”

“He’s alive.” Steve answered shortly, not looking at her as he walked past, his jacket flapping slightly, pulling Katie with him as his hand wrapped around hers.

Natasha just glared at him before she walked quicker, pulling ahead of the group as they reached a large security office. Natasha led the way in, and Katie instantly picked up as she could hear Tony’s voice from inside,

“The remaining of us are now at court-section.” He was saying. And as they entered she saw her brother standing in the centre of the office, talking into his phone with his back to the door as he added, “And, Colonel Ross is supervising the clean-up.”

Despite everything Katie felt a rush of relief, it good to see him, alive and okay after Vienna.

“Try not to break anything while we fix this.” Natasha snapped and Katie’s attention then turned from her brother to her friend and she shook her head.

“Ass kissing doesn’t suit you, Nat.”

Tony turned to face them all, his face set in a deep frown as he barked into his phone, pulling at his tie to loosen it off. "Consequences? You bet there will be consequences.”

Steve raised his eyebrows slightly, glancing at Katie who rolled her eyes before she looked at Tony as he continued to talk “Obviously you can quote me on that because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.”

As he placed his phone back into his pocket, his eyes never left his sister. “You okay?” He asked and she nodded, stepping forwards into his arms, giving him a hug which he returned.

"Consequences?” Steve repeated with a smirk as Tony looked over Katie’s shoulder at him.

“Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted.” Tony answered, stepping back and releasing Katie. “I had to give him something.” He added.

“I’m not getting that shield back, am I?” Steve asked in an almost monotone voice.

“Technically, it’s the government’s property.” Natasha replied cheerily. “Wings too.” She added.

“That’s cold.” Sam countered

“Warmer than jail.” Tony tossed over his shoulder, as he headed off somewhere.

“Stop being so melodramatic.” Katie rolled her eyes, and stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as Natasha led them to an office, talking to them as she went, telling them about what had been going on. They walked in silence, none of them responding. Eventually they reached a glass walled office and stepped inside.

“You’re not in a very talkative mood I can see.” Natasha drawled as Katie dropped her jacket over the back of a chair.

“Hmmm what can we talk about? Let’s see.” Katie looked at her, her face angry. “Oh how about the Accords?” Natasha rolled her eyes as Katie continued with a tone of disdain. “You know, I never had you down as someone that would give in so easily to control.”

“Well sometimes we have to make some tough choices.”

“Why’d you really sign, Nat?“ Steve asked her.

She sighed leaning back on the door frame. “Loyalty. Loyalty to our team. Staying together is more important than how we stay together.”

Steve shook his head, giving a small snort of laughter. “I don’t agree, and deep down, I don’t think you do either.”

“Believe what you want.” She shrugged before leaving.

About half an hour later after the three of them had been brainstorming again who they thought was actually responsible for bombing the UN and trying to fit Bucky up (none of them having any sensible ideas whatsoever), Sam excused himself heading off in search of some food and drink and it wasn’t long before Tony walked into the office were Katie and Steve were sat, Katie’s feet resting in Steve’s lap, his hand sliding up the bottom of her jeans, stroking the smooth skin just above the line of her ankle boots.

“You wanna see something cool?” He asked. Katie and Steve both turned to look at him as he walked in, holding a small black case. “I pulled something from Dad’s archives.” He nodded, “Timely.”

Katie sat up as Tony tossed his suit jacket onto one of the empty seats before he opened the box and placed it down on the shiny, mahogany table in front of Steve.

"FDR signed the Land-Lease bills with these in 1941.” Tony explained what they were. “Provided support to the allies when they needed it the most.”

“Some would say it brought our country closer to war.” Steve countered, a humourless smile on his face as he looked back up at Tony.

Tony met Steve’s eyes evenly and countered with his own point, “See, if not for these, you wouldn’t be here.” Steve’s brow rose, while Tony continued, “I’m trying to, what do you call it? An olive branch. Is that what you call it?

He looked at Steve, leaning his face against his fist as he waited expectantly. Steve pursed his lips unhappily and Katie knew he was struggling and couldn’t tell Tony what he wanted to hear because he didn’t believe in it.

"Is Pepper here?” Katie asked, switching topics as she glanced around the office then added, “I didn’t see her.”

She looked back at Tony as a strange almost regretful look came over his face. Her brows furrowed in confusion as Tony said slowly, measured, “We are… kinda, well not kinda-”

“Pregnant?” Steve interrupted in surprise.

“No, definitely not.” Tony said immediately face souring slightly. He paused, before finally admitting the truth, “We’re taking a break. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Steve spoke softly as Katie looked at her brother, who took a seat at the table “I didn’t know.”

“What did you do this time?” Katie asked gently. She hated it when they rowed and broke up. It never lasted long but still…

Tony’s lips twitched like he was going to smile but didn’t, “Few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA. And then Ultron,” he tapped himself in the chest, “my fault.” He sighed again. “And then, and then, and then- I never stopped. Cause the truth is, I don’t wanna stop but I don’t want to lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference.”

“In her defence, you are a handful.” Katie said, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

Tony smiled without it reaching his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, pacing a little by the glass walls, before he reached up to adjust his tie as he continued bitterly.

“Yet, dad was a pain in the ass, but he and mom always made it work.”

“You know, I never expected Howard would get married.” Steve said, fondly remembering his friend with a smile “Mind you, I only knew him when he was young and single.”

“Oh really?” Tony asked sarcastically as he looked back at Steve. “You two knew each other? He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times.”

Steve winced, dropping his head and while Tony picked up his suit jacket. “God, I hated you.” He spat pulling the jacket on.

“That’s a dick thing to say, Tone!” Katie frowned, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

Steve sighed, and he looked back at Tony with sad eyes, “I don’t mean to make things difficult.”

“No, you just dropped into my life and married my sister.” Tony snorted “But you’re a very polite person. I mean you asked first.”

“That’s enough.” Katie chastised as Tony walked behind Steve, pacing a little. Steve turned to keep his eyes on him as he sighed

“If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it. Sometime I wish I could.”

“No, you don’t.” Tony challenged

Steve paused, before he admitted with a small, wry smile shaking his head a little, “No, I don’t.” He sighed, “Sometimes-”

“Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth.” Tony interrupted bitterly. He shrugged like it was a fact, before he added softly, “but I don’t wanna see you gone. We need you, Cap.”

Steve stared at Tony as he considered his words, Katie observing the two of them silently as Tony continued “So far, nothing’s happened that can’t be undone, if you just sign.” He gestured at the pens, “We can make the last twenty-four hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych centre instead of a Wakanda prison.”

Steve stared at the pens, weighing Tony’s words before he reached out, pulling one slowly from its holder. Tony folded his arms across his chest as Steve stood up playing with the pen in his hands.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible,” he took a deep breath, “but there would have to be safeguards, what do you think, Sweetheart?” He looked at Katie. He was trying here, after everything, to reach the middle ground. He didn’t want to see the Avengers split up and the opportunity of keeping Bucky out of jail and safe was one he couldn’t pass up.

Katie looked at him, searching his face. She hadn’t been completely opposed to some form of sanctions after all, what she had opposed vehemently was a set being force upon them which gave them no control. But maybe, as Steve pointed out, with some amendments, perhaps they could make this work.

“We need to be able to have some control Tony, a say in where we go, when we go and why we go.” Katie eventually looked at her brother. “We’re not to be used as some pawns in a political game, for anyone’s agenda.”

“Sure.” Tony was quick to assure. “Once we put out the PR fire, its documents, they can be amended.” Tony sat back down at the table “I’d file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated and-.“

"Wanda?” Katie cut him off and looked at him. “What about Wanda?”

“She’s fine.” Tony promised, although wariness leaked into his tone because he knew he had just put his foot in it. “She’s confined in the compound currently. Vision’s keeping her company.”

“Oh God, Tony!” Katie groaned and threw her head backwards in exasperation and disbelief.

At the same time Steve scoffed and shook his head. “Every time. Every time I think you’re seeing things the right way-”

"What?” Tony cut in, “It’s a hundred acres with a lap pool. It’s got a screening room. Trust me, there’s worse ways to protect people.”

“Protection?” Steve repeated, his temper rising. “Is that how you see this? This is protection? It’s internment.”

“She’s not a US citizen-” Tony spoke loudly while Steve and Katie groaned again

“Oh, come on, Tony!” Katie shook her head, looking at him.

“- and they don’t grant visas to Weapons of Mass Destruction.” Tony finished taking a deep breath

“Wanda’s a kid!” Steve spat out.

“Give me a break!” Tony shouted back angrily.

Katie’s eyes narrowed furiously, but Tony took another deep breath as he visibly tried to calm himself down,

“I’m doing what has to be done,” He paused to look Steve in the eye before he turned to his sister and finished flatly. “To stave off something worse.”

She shook her head and grit her teeth, there was no discussing with him when he was like this, and if he couldn’t see that keeping Wanda on house arrest because she hadn’t signed was wrong then she didn’t really want to discuss it with him anyway. "You keep telling yourself that.” She answered.

"Hate to break up the set.” Steve dropped the pen back down onto the desk before he left the office.

Katie groaned and banged her head on the desk.

“Kiddo…”

“Just don’t.” She replied, not looking up. “Don’t say a word Tony, you’ve already said enough.”

****

“The receipt for your gear.” Sharon walked into the room, handing Sam a piece of paper.

Sam took the paper, glancing down at it. “'Bird costume’? Come on, girl.” He spat incredulously reading the receipt.

“I didn’t write it.” Sharon shot back and Katie raised a brow as she watched the woman, noticing her movements, before she reached past Sam and pressed a button in the middle of the conference table. Instantly the audio from the footage they were watching of Bucky’s questioning flooded the room and Steve looked at Sharon in surprise and she nodded back to him. Katie also gave her a look of appreciation as well and Sharon averted her eyes beyond the conference room. Katie followed her gaze and saw Natasha looking furtively over her shoulder. Katie nodded to Nat, understanding instantly she’d had a hand in this. Nat inclined her head slightly before she turned back around to watch her own set of screens.

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The man in the cage gave no response so the doctor tried again. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.” Bucky answered voice rough, a hint of defiance in his tone.

Steve’s lips pursed, and he turned back to the table with a frown. He picked up the discarded file, pulling out the Vienna security camera photos that showed the man the task force identified as Bucky from near the bomb site.

“Why would the task force release this photo to begin with?” Steve asked handing the picture over to Katie, as she perched on the table beside him.

Sam frowned, while Sharon shrugged and answered the best way she could, “Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?”

“Right.” Steve said flatly nodding but it wasn’t enough for him. Katie cottoned on instantly.

“It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken.” She shrugged and Sam’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward on his arms, while Steve continued for her.

“Suddenly you’ve got seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.”

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him.” Sharon asked slowly, summarizing their point.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years, and bar when he pulled your Missus out of that Hydra base, we found nothing.” Sam pointed out.

“We didn’t bomb the UN.” Katie answered. “That turns a lot of heads.”

“Yeah.” Sharon joined in quietly, “but that doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him, it guarantees that we would…”

She trailed off as all 4 of them shared an understanding glance.

Steve turned around sharply to look back at the screen showing Bucky and the UN psychiatrist, before he muttered "Yeah.” Someone had brought him here for a reason. Who, and why?

“Tell me Bucky.” The man interrogating Bucky continued on. “You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Bucky answered flatly keeping his response short.

“You feel that, if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He tapped at his screen “We only have to talk about one.”

The building suddenly went dark, the power going out leaving on the emergency red lights flashing ominously. Katie hopped off the table and Steve turned urgent eyes on Sharon.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” She answered the silent question quickly.

Steve looked at Sam and he nodded then the three of them ran out of the office, using the distraction of the power outage to their advantage as they raced down the stairs to get to the level Bucky was on.

They ran down two flights of stairs before they finally reached the hallway that led to Bucky’s holding room. Steve stopped when they reached the last corridor and spotted the guards lying on the ground. He glanced back to exchange looks with Katie and Sam as they both came to a stop behind him. Now wary of what they were walking into, and highly conscious that none of them had any weapons, they made their way cautiously down the corridor. Katie bent down to check the fallen soldiers. One had a strong pulse, the other…

“He’s dead.” She muttered looking up. Steve let out a sigh of frustration and moved into the security room besides the cell, Sam and Katie close behind.

The further into the room they went the more dead soldiers they encountered when a sudden raspy voice came from in the room that held Bucky’s containment unit. “Help me.”

Steve looked ahead to see the man who had been interrogating Bucky, lying on his side by the empty cage, clutching his side as if in pain. Steve stomped into the room angrily, ignoring the man as he begged for help again.

“Get up.” He snapped reaching down to grab the man by the front of his jacket, hauling him to his feet. The man eyed him carefully as Steve glared shoving him into a wall and snarling. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man met his gaze, his eyes becoming cold and dark as answered lowly, “To see an empire fall.”

A movement in the corner of the room caught Katie’s eye. Sam and her ducked just in time as the Winter Soldier leapt from where he had been lurking in the shadows, throwing a punch towards Katie. He missed, hitting the concrete doorway and punching a hole through the rock.

Sam acted quickly, punching at the Winter Soldier’s side, but it didn’t even faze the super-solider as he punched Sam straight in the stomach. Sam winced, and doubled over as the Winter Soldier grabbed his chin in his metal hand, throwing him across the room. He then turned his attention to Katie, and she knew that throwing punches wasn’t going to work so all she could do was duck, using her agility to keep out of his way. She bent backwards as he made to grab her but then Steve ran at him, ducking as the Winter Soldier swung his arm out. Once the metal arm passed over his head, Steve threw a punch of his own, hitting the Soldier right in the face, and the man snarled as he swung his fist back at Steve, who dodged it. The Winter Soldier suddenly kicked out, landing a solid kick right to Steve’s stomach and Steve grunted as he was thrown backwards, landing in the security room.

The Winter Soldier strode towards him but Steve was already back on his feet and blocked the next kick with his bare hands. Katie was powerless to help; she had nothing on her, no stingers, no guns no Supernova suit. She frantically searched the room for something she could use as a weapon as the pair of super soldiers continued to fight, throwing kicks and punches while parrying and blocking the other’s moves, heading back out into the corridor. As Steve fell through the doorway again, Katie grabbed the cable she was holding and launched herself at the Winter Soldier jumping onto his back and wrapping the cable around his neck. He spun round angrily, grabbing at the cable before he reached up with his metal arm and grabbed the back of her hair, flipping her up and over before flinging her across the room at Steve who had pulled himself up against the elevator doors. Steve grunted as he caught her but quickly set her on her feet before shoving her out of the way just in time, as the Winter Soldier threw his whole weight into a punch to Steve’s chest, blowing him straight through the metal doors and down the elevator shaft.

Katie kicked at the desk in front of her, sending it The Soldier’s way as he was now advancing on her, but he broke through it easily, not even slowing in the slightest. She dodged under his arm and aimed a kick at the side of his knee, catching him perfectly and he stumbled forward. She then went to kick him again but he raised his metal arm to take the brunt of it, catching her leg so it was trapped between his arm and chest.

“Bucky this isn’t you.” Her words meant nothing to him. He grabbed a handful of her shirt with his other hand lifting her and tossing her like a rag doll straight into the wall where she banged her head painfully, causing her to see stars. She lay still for a while, dazed but and then she heard Sam shout

“Hey. You alright?”

“I think so.” She blinked groggily as Sam gently helped her to her feet. Everything seemed to work.

“C'mon,” He urged, heading towards the stairs “That so called doctor just left.”

Before Katie could head up the steps after him, a grunt caught her attention, it was Steve, minus his jacket, climbing his way out of the elevator shaft covered in dirt and sweat and looking far more attractive than he had any right to be in the middle of a damned fight.

“You okay?” He questioned only slightly out of breath from the climb, his hand dropping to his wife’s neck

“Yeah.”

“Bucky?”

“He went that way.” She pointed to the corridor on the left. "Back out to the facility. The doctor, he went the other way, Sam’s gone after him”

Steve quickly nodded. “I’ll get Bucky. You go after Sam and I’ll meet you outside.”

No further discussion was had as they split up. By the time Katie emerged into the lobby of the facility, it was utter chaos where employees were all crushed together rushing to get out the doors and get to safety.

“Sam, any sign?” She asked as she found him outside looking round.

“No, come on.” He grabbed her hand so that they didn’t lose each other in the crowd as they moved outside the building. Sam stopped to pick up a discarded jacket that he recognised as belonging to the Fake Doctor, and Katie glanced down at it before looking around the crowd. There was no sign of him. It was then that she heard a chopper and instantly glanced up to the top of the building where a helicopter was attempting to take off. But the two-hundred plus pounds of super-solider hanging onto the landing skids was not letting go that easy. He kept hold as the helicopter dragged him to the edge, his boots skidding on the Heli-pad before he reached the end. Gritting his teeth he clung onto the skids of the helicopter with one hand, the other onto the railing of the building.

“No way.” Sam shook his head as he and Katie stood looking up at Steve who was stopping the helicopter “No goddamned way.”

The blades of the helicopter spun rapidly but it was going nowhere as Steve switched his grip on the railing. His muscles bulged and felt like they were on fire but he didn’t let go and, with a pained grit of his teeth, he pulled even harder and felt it start to come back to him. Then, it did a sharp turn towards Steve and he dived out of the way as it came to a stop. He stood up, made his way to the door but before he could do anything Bucky’s metal fist smashed through the glass on the door and gripped him round his neck. Steve planted both his feet on the side of the chopper, trying to release himself from the grip but it was no use.

And then the helicopter began sliding.

Katie’s grip tightened around Sam’s hand as they spotted Steve’s figure still attached to the helicopter as it fell from the top of the building and into the lake below. She instantly rushed forwards, but Sam wrapped both arms around her waist to restrain her, stopping her from diving head first into the water after him.

Not again, she kept thinking to herself, the scenes from the last time him and Bucky had entered the water flashing before her eyes.

She hadn’t realised she was yelling until Sam shouted loudly, and pointed across the water, where a head had broken the surface. Steve was dragging Bucky up beside him. They rushed to the edge of the lake where Steve made sure they got Bucky out first before he hauled himself up beside them, water dripping onto the concrete.

Sam turned his attention to Bucky making sure he was only unconscious and still breathing, while Katie’s focus turned to her husband. The anger at him being a stupid, reckless moron again boiled over.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She screamed, before she reached back and slapped him hard across the face. It was enough to make his head snap to the right.

“Ouch.” Sam muttered.

Steve looked at Katie, astonishment and maybe a hint of amusement on his face, before she threw herself into his arms, not caring that he was soaking wet, whilst as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You stupid…” Katie began to sob, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into his wet shirt and his hands tangled in her hair.

“I know, I know.” He muttered. “I’m sorry, Doll.” He dropped a soft kiss to her head before he gently moved her to the side and looked at Sam before nodding to the unconscious Bucky on the floor. “Let’s get out of here.”

**** Chapter 31

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 31

Series Masterlist

Chapter 31

Warnings: A few curse words, smut

Word Count: 8200

Fred opens the door and helps you into the living room, the hospital having released you. You still have some pain killers, and will be sore for a few days possibly longer.

Unfortunately the twins aren’t ready, so you had to leave them, which took an hour longer than it should have. Fred had to practically pull you from the NICU with tears barrelling down your cheeks. It wasn’t that difficult given that there was a wheelchair waiting for you in the corner and he can easily carry you. If it wasn’t for Oliver you would have put up more of a fight, but he needs his parents. As much fun as he has been having with your grandparents you know they have been struggling to keep up with him the past few days.

Walking through the house you see some shoes haphazardly thrown by the door, dishes rinsed in the sink waiting to be washed, there are some papers scattered on the table all the outcome of the limited time Fred has spent at home the past week. In the bedroom you see a pile of clothes that has been building in the corner and a few towels in a pile on the bathroom floor.

“Sorry, I haven’t spent much time here” Fred explains leading you to rest against the vanity.

“Babe it’s to be expected” you groan while he picks them up taking them to the hamper.

“I just wish I cleaned up more” he yells from the closet. “Just with spending time with you, the twins, shuttling Oliver back and forth this all kind of got put on the back burner” his voice getting quieter as he gets closer to the bathroom.

You know it’s true, Fred never being the messy type. He struggled with the mess that came along with Oliver; the diapers and never ending laundry mixed with limited sleep lead to clutter he never anticipated. That and he didn’t realize how much stuff babies need so storage was always an issue at your old place. It stressed him out never being able to get ahead of it, but eventually he learned to deal with it; accepting some things were out of control and some days kids are messy.

You smile seeing him walk back into the room, Fred’s face lighting up at the same time. He walks over to you placing a soft kiss on your cheek then he makes his way to the shower turning it on. He walks back helping to slowly peel you out of your clothes. You wince slightly from the pain having to lift your arms which causes a scowl to cross his face.

His eyes slowly scan over your body, but not in a wanting desire filled way; he is looking at your bruises and scars this being the first time he has laid eyes on your body since the accident. His eyes stare at your bruised ribs, hands gently rubbing up your arm tracing the faded colours of your skin. He sighs bringing his eyes back up to yours, shooting you a soft half smile.

He returns to the shower and places his hand under the stream adjusting the dials slightly “almost ready” he says stepping back closer to you. You shiver slightly from your exposed skin in the cool air in your bathroom, your nipples hardening. He pulls his shirt over his head and grips his pants, pulling them and his boxers down in one fast motion. You stare at his naked body, a confused look on your face.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as he stumbles out of his socks.

“Never had a problem with me being naked before” he smirks holding a hand out for you. You take his hand and step forward chuckling “I don’t have a problem with it, just wondering why you are naked.”

He helps you into the shower and you feel the warm stream hit your back “I just thought you could use some help, you’re still in a lot of pain. You can barely take your shirt off” he says adjusting the shower head to hit your hair. He gently runs his hands through your hair you tilt your head allowing you to gaze in his eyes.

The last week has been hard on him, the pain written all over Fred’s face; but today he finally looks at peace. He is still tired; physically, mentally and emotionally, and likely will be until the twins get home but getting you home has been a major relief to him. You coming home means Oliver gets to come home and the first step towards normalcy.

His beard is pretty grown in but given they are in the conference finals that doesn’t shock you. But his mustache that’s a different story. He had been trimming it to keep it from getting into his mouth, but it’s longer than you have ever seen it. It is fully curled into his mouth, but since he refused to leave unless it was to get Oliver it’s not that shocking.

He picks up your shampoo and begins massaging it into your hair. You sigh at the contact having forgotten his delicate touch eyes sliding down his body following the water dripping down his hard chest. You tilt your head, following the trail of water down the ‘V’ of his abs, onto his member.

“Hey” he says tilting your head up, directing your gaze to his dark brown eyes “gonna get shampoo in your eyes. Besides my eyes are up here” he jokes rubbing conditioner into your hair.

“Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black” you mumble with a mischievous grin on your face. Fred doesn’t respond busy rinsing the body wash from your body, but you can tell by his smirk he heard you. When he is done he reaches around you to turn the shower off, you place a quick kiss on his cheek your hand gripping his hips. He turns his head to look at you and smiles and kisses you on the lips; you taste the water that has pooled on his upper lip.

“You need to shave babe” you whisper, his hair tickling your upper lip.

“Been a little busy” he replies stepping away. He grabs a towel from the counter; rubbing it over his arms before wrapping it around his waist. He tucks it into itself, hanging low on his hips under the crease of his muscles. Next he grabs a towel gently wiping down your body before wrapping it around you. The soft fabric feels amazing against your skin having spent the past 8 days with cheap hospital bedding and towels.

“Well you have time now babe” you say as he brings another towel to your hair; dabbing the ends of it.

“We’ll see, kinda like it” he grins trying to wrap it around your head but it unravels in his hands a few times. He loudly groans attempting to redo it but it falls onto the floor landing in a pool of water.

“It’s fine, don’t worry I’m just going to nap soon anyways” you laugh knowing he won’t be able to get it to stay on its own. “I mean as long as you’re fine looking at my hair when it dries crazy.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you “dealt with your bad breath the first couple days I can deal with your wild hair” he says picking it.

“You said it wasn’t that bad” you yell.

“I lied” he responds your eyes going wide. “If I didn’t you would have tried to get up to the bathroom and you were supposed to rest.” The edges of his lips curl upwards slightly “it wasn’t that bad (Y/N).

“You’re lying” you say in a firm voice pretending to be mad your lip curling into a pout. Fred leans forwarding prying the pout from your face with his delicate kiss.

“But back to your facial hair” you smile and Fred just shakes his head helping you to the bedroom. He leaves you on the bed; you notice the duvet is crinkled having been quickly thrown on the bed. All but one pillow remain on the bed, the rest scattered on the floor. Not that that surprises you, Fred hates the pillows you have on the bed, saying the 10 décor pillows are excessive and unnecessary.

You sit on the bed goosebumps developing on your skin. Water dripping from your hair down your body sending a chill through your body. Fred walks in from the closet having exchanged his towel for grey sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He has yet to brush his hair, damp red hair splayed across his forehead water droplets glistening in the lights.

He hands a pair of your grey track pants and one of his hoodies in his hands. He helps you get dressed, pulling the corner of the duvet back but you shake your head.

“Downstairs” you whisper knowing Oliver will be home soon and you want to spend as much time with him as possible.

Sometime later you are awoken by the sound of the front door closing. Oliver’s excited chatter echoing down the hall, and Fred trying to keep him quiet.

“She’s sleeping so we have to be quiet” you hear Fred say softly followed by a saddened “oh” from your son.

You don’t know how long you have been sleeping for but your body is starting to ache. You are lying on the couch in your living room; Fred brought your pillow down for you and placed a blanket over you while you slept. You sit up resting on your elbows and turning slightly to look down the hall waiting for him. You hear Oliver’s soft footsteps while he walks down the hall, his face lights up when he sees you are waiting for him.

“Mommy” he exclaims taking off running towards you.

“Hey Oliver” you laugh as he jumps on the couch wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Hi mommy” he says hugging you back. Fred walks in setting Oliver’s bag down in the room. Your eyes follow him while he grabs some drinks for everyone while you hold Oliver tight to your chest. You wipe away a few tears once Oliver finally pulls away “why are you crying mommy?” he asks concerned.

“Oh I’m just so happy” you respond pulling him back towards you. You kiss his head “I am so happy that I’m home and that your home with me.”

“I missed you” he sings pulling away when he feels the weight of the couch shift. Fred sits beside you pulling Oliver onto his lap handing you a drink and some pills.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks him and Oliver nods in response

“What movie” he asks kissing his forehead. “Toy Story” Oliver responds causing you to smile.

Fred adjusts the pillow resting it against his thigh turning on the TV. You lay your head back on the pillow, placing a hand on his thigh. Fred gently runs his hands through your still slightly damp hair. His soothing actions and the pain pills you are on cause you to drift off partway through the movie begins.

“He’s asleep finally” Fred says crawling into bed later in the evening. “He wanted to stay with you, took a little convincing and 3 more stories.”

You laugh looking at him “sounds about right.” If you’re weren’t so sore you would have objected to Oliver sleeping in his bed, but you know you just need a couple nights rest without a squirmy toddler beside you.

“He missed you a lot” Fred whispers pushing some hair behind your ear, your hand lightly resting on his hard chest.

“I missed him too” you smile “and you, come closer” you say. Fred shakes his head at you causing a frown to develop on your face “I don’t want to hurt you” he says placing his hand on your forearm.

“You won’t, I promise” you respond lifting the duvet up for him. Fred hesitates his thumb gently rubbing your chin “how is this different than you lying beside me in that tiny hospital bed?”

“I never slept in that bed, I lied beside you but always moved to the cot to sleep. I knew I couldn’t hurt you if I was awake. When we sleep we move around and I just….I don’t...”

“Okay babe” you whisper running your hand across his chest. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed, it has been weeks since you have slept in the same bed as Fred. You have been yearning to wrap yourself in his arm, your head resting on his chest being lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest. But after everything you understand his reluctance and shoot him a soft reassuring smile.

Fred grips your wrist bringing it to his lips for a kiss. He stares at the bare skin mumbling something before getting out of bed. He walks over to the hospital bag tearing everything out of it; you rise up to rest on your forearm watching him having no idea what he is looking for. Not that you mind, he is only wearing a pair of tight boxers that show off his sculpted glutes and thighs while he bends over. So you would be content watching him for a while.

He finally finds what he is looking for and walks back over to you. He takes your wrist wrapping the white gold bracelet around it and fastening the clasp. “The hospital had to take it off” he explains while you smile at him “but you look like your missing something without.”

“I felt like I was missing something” you respond eyes getting heavy.

“Babe you need to go back to hockey” you say to him. Fred hasn’t played a game since the accident; he has been reluctant to leave your side unless it’s to go to the hospital to see the twins or the store.

“Your parents are here, my grandparents are nearby. The twins are getting better, and stronger. Your team needs you” you say hands resting on his hips. His parents arrived a couple days ago and have been helping with everything while you recover.

You thought once they arrived Fred would get back into hockey knowing both you and Oliver would be in good hands during his absence, but that hasn’t been the case. Fred ended up going to a couple practices but still hasn’t given them a timeline for his return despite your encouragement. The Penguins are down 0-3, game four being tonight in Pittsburgh, they told him if he feels ready he can start game 4; thinking the change in net could help spark the team.

“My family needs me. You are more important” he responds looking over the stove spatula in his hand.

“I am doing better; I’m moving around, no longer on my pain meds. I am fine. The twins are fine, the doctors are happy with their progress. Your mom will make sure everything is fine” you say turning your head to the island where your son is colouring. “Do it for Ollie.”

“Do what for me?” you hear Oliver peak up at his name.

“Go play hockey tonight” you respond to him.

“Yay daddy!” he cheers running to Fred who scoops him up laughing.

“You should go Frederik; you know I raised four kids. Some people might say I know what I’m doing” Charlotte says from the couch.

He shoots you a glance and shakes his head groaning “we’ll see.”

A few hours later you are on the couch with Oliver, his parents downstairs watching a movie. Fred walks into the living room in in his navy pinstripe three piece suit, his hair has been lightly styled, but you can still see the waves from his curls. He has on a crisp white dress shirt with a red tie tucked behind the vest. He is adjusting the sleeve of his jacket, doing up the button when he looks up to see you staring at him with a grin across your face.

“Can’t look at me like that babe, not for at least 5 more weeks” he jokes kissing you softly.

“Then you can’t look this good” you mumble against his lips, feeling yourself instinctively get wet by his presence.

“You told me to go to hockey, you made me look this good” he says kissing you again.

“Bye daddy, have fun at hockey!” Oliver says wrapping himself around Fred’s legs. “I ordered you guy’s dinner, it will be here at 5:30” he says kissing you on the forehead. After dinner you and Oliver cuddle up on the couch watching the game.

Fred is having an amazing game, stopping every shot; completely in the zone. Oliver sits beside you and claps and cheers with every play Fred makes, you can see the pride radiating off of him. Charlotte laughs watching him “Fred used to be like that watching his dad play” she smiles turning back to the TV. Ernst asked Oliver if he wanted to go to the game, but he said he wanted to stay home with you resulting in the 4 of you watching in your living room.

You notice Oliver’s eyes getting heavy at the start of the 3rd period, you expect him to fall asleep, but you end up falling asleep first. You are awoken a little while later to Fred’s arms gently cradling you while he holds you against his chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep” you mumble against his chest.

“Are you serious? You’re supposed to be sleeping not up late watching hockey. Should be getting you in trouble for staying up so late, Oliver told me you made it part way through the third” he whispers placing you in the bed.

“He didn’t fall asleep?” you ask him.

“No, he was on the couch, reading to you while you slept. My mom tried to take him to bed and he said no I’m staying with mommy” you laugh at the strong willed nature of your toddler feeling the weight from duvet being pulled up your body. “Now go back asleep” he says placing a kiss on your lips before standing up to get changed.

“Wait” you mumble “how was the rest of the game?”

“We won 3-0” he says hanging his suit in his closet.

“Hey babe you’re up early” you hear Fred say through a raspy morning voice, wrapping his arms around you. You set your coffee on the counter and turn around in his arms you can see the bags that have developed under his eyes that are struggling to stay open. You bring your hands to cup his cheek running them through his beard bringing his face closer to yours. “I’m just so excited, I couldn’t sleep” you squeal kissing him.

Today after more than 5 weeks in the hospital the twins are coming home. It has been hard only getting a few hours with them every day, but today you finally get to bring them home. You thought that the best feeling was a week ago when you got to hold them for the first time but you were wrong. You know when you finally walk out the doors with them it will be the best thing ever. Fred’s arms wrap around your back and hold you tight to him “we can’t get them until 10, its 6:30” he laughs.

“I’m going to get ready!” you chirp, ignoring him and heading to shower.

A little while later you have done your hair and makeup when you are standing in your closet. You are in a pair of dark wash straight cut jeans and a bra trying to decide on a shirt. You look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the scar from you C-section, and some of the weight you haven’t lost from the pregnancy. You scowl running your hand over the stretch marks on your stomach.

“You look amazing elskede” you hear Fred say and you turn around and see him leaning against the door frame. You don’t know how long he has been standing there, but he knows exactly what you have been thinking the entire time. He walks over to you and puts his hands on your sides “I love you, and I think you look absolutely stunning.”

You roll your eyes slightly and shake your head at him “lose the weight, don’t lose it, gain more. I don’t care. I’m not with you for your looks just like you’re not with me for mine.”

“Eh” you joke shrugging causing Fred to laugh “I mean this” you point up and down his body “it’s very nice.”

You can practically hear his eyes roll in his head “just wait until I retire, dad bod all the way.”

You stand on your tippy toes and kiss him while laughing, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands slide to the small of your back, his pinky hooking through your belt loop while his mouth opens more for yours. You taste the coffee on his breath as his tongue slides in your mouth. You rock your hips up against him and he groans pulling his hips back “babe you can’t, doctor’s orders.”

“For me” you whisper in his ear “not you.” You bring a hand down and begin to palm over his jeans when he grips your wrist and pulls it off him. A pout comes across your face he quickly kisses it away “it’s almost 8:30, breakfast is ready. Come eat so we can bring our boys home.”

He gives you a playful tap on the ass before leaving the closet. His teasing sends shockwaves immediately to your core; you huff in disapproval mumbling under your breath before pulling on a white tank top with a light pink jacket.

“You ready to go babe?” you ask Fred who is sitting on the couch. He stands up and comes over to you “mommy I come too?” Oliver asks getting up from his toys.

“No buddy, you have to stay here with Christie” you say to him.

You see his eyes well up, bottom lip quivering, he has been having a rough couple days since Charlotte and Ernst left. They stuck around for a couple weeks after the series ended in a game 7 loss. Fred stepped in with a shutout in game 4 and helped them win 5 and 6 but game 7 went to the Leafs in an overtime loss.

They were hoping the twins would be discharged and they could have some time with them, but unfortunately they still had to stay in the NICU for a couple more weeks. The NICU tries to limit the number of visitors which resulted in them only seeing the twins twice during their trip, which is also why Oliver hasn’t spent much time with them. That and hospitals aren’t the most exciting place for two year olds.

Your eyes shoot up to Fred and you sigh, Fred crouching down beside you. “When we come home we will have dinner and play a game okay bud” he says rubbing his hand up Oliver’s arm. You watch him sniffle his tears back and turn around walking away from both of you.

“He will be fine babe” Fred says pulling you up to your feet. “The boys will be home soon and all three boys will be home causing mayhem” he says which earns a light chuckle from you. “Toys and books everywhere, food stuck under the couch cushions. Mini stick games in the basement, wrestling matches” he continues.

“That sounds amazing” you say laughing “I can’t wait for that crazy life with you.”

“I can’t believe they are coming home” you hum walking into the NICU picking up Noah from the incubator. You look to Fred and see him sitting in a rocking chair holding Lucas with no shirt on.

“Where is your shirt?” you ask eyes going wide. Your five pound son looks incredibly tiny pressed up against his 230 pound body, but perfect at the same time.

“Skin to skin contact is good for babies in the NICU, but it also helps them to bond with their dads, the smell or something” he explains smiling at you. “Where’d you go babe?” he says softly returning his attention to Lucas.

“I told you last week I had an appointment today” you explain wiping some spit from the corner of your son’s mouth. You walk over to the couch beside Fred and sit down eyes locked on your son.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah just a check up on things since the accident” you respond the edges of your lips curling upwards. “Everything is fine” you coo in your baby voice. You bring Noah’s forehead up to yours and place a soft kiss on him.

Fred’s gaze bounces between you and Lucas for a few minutes before leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips “this is amazing” he whispers when he pulls back Lucas cooing lightly in your arms.

“I know I can’t believe they can come home today” you say putting your head on his shoulder.

A half hour later you have swapped babies, when Lucas starts to fuss in your arms “I think he’s hungry” you say.

You had been pumping milk for the boys and bringing it with you, but hadn’t brought any with you today. Dr. Lang was supposed to discharge them over an hour ago but was called away for an emergency so you are patiently waiting his return for all of you to leave.

“You can try feeding” the nurse says to you from across the room. “It might take a bit to get them used to it, but they will catch on.”

After a little bit of a struggle and some help with a lactation specialist, he finally latches on. The familiar feeling of him feeding, the feeling you had begun to hate near the end with Oliver because of the pain is the greatest thing you have ever felt. Tears fall from your eyes as he eats; Fred stares at you for a minute placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I feel so complete” you say looking into Fred’s dark brown eyes. He smiles looking into yours, a genuine smile one you haven’t seen on his face in a while; since you woke up from the accident.

A few minutes later their doctor comes to complete the final check before releasing them. He takes Lucas from you and completes the exam and giving him the green light before handing him back to you. You buckle him into his car seat, and turn your attention to the exam on Noah. You walk up beside Fred, and he gently places a hand on your back pulling you in close while you listen.

You immediately smell Fred’s cologne which captures your attention. You look at him and see him in a tight grey t-shirt with a pair of dark washed jeans. He has a navy blue ball cap resting a top his slightly untidy hair from when he pulled the shirt over his head. It has been getting harder over the past few weeks, to keep your hands off of him. You hadn’t been together for over a month before the accident, long before your argument. So it likely has been 10 to 12 weeks since you last slept together making everything he does buckle your knees.

If that wasn’t reason enough the pool is open and he has spent a big portion of his time in the water with Oliver. Wet sun-kissed topless Freddie has always been a soft spot for you, Freddie interacting with Oliver another soft spot; combining those things and your knees almost always giving out every time. Lying next to him at night, his hand resting gently on your waist, his hand running through your hair, him just being beside you in bed has been torture not being able to act on it.

After Noah’s exam Fred takes him to put him into the car seat the hospital staff leaving you. You walk over and stand by Fred when he buckles up the straps “this is it” you say excitedly looking at Noah “ready to go home!”

You feel Fred grab your hand, you turn to look at him and see him on one knee. You stare down into his brown eyes that look back at you full of love and adoration “we got to get going babe” you say turning back to Noah.

“(Y/N)” he says softly pulling your hand back turning you towards him squeezing your hand. “You are the most amazing woman in the world. You have brought me the three most beautiful boys and I can’t imagine going through any of this without you. I wouldn’t have made it through these last 6 weeks without you, you are my rock, always have been. Over three years ago I went out for one drink, I ended up with a lot more than I bargained for.” You laugh lightly at that, tears filling your eyes. Fred brings a hand up to the corner of his eye wiping away his tears chuckling lightly at himself. His hands reach out grasping your left hand in his before continuing “you came into my life so unexpectedly but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you and I can’t imagine doing any of this without you” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small blue jewelry box opening it and your jaw practically hits the floor.

“(Y/N) will you marry me?”

“YES! Oh my god yes Fred, of course” he slides the ring on your finger and stands up pulling you into a deep passionate kiss. Your hands slide through his beard his resting on the small of your back. You moan into the kiss your hands sliding up his face pushing his hat off his head. You hear it hit the floor, his hand dropping lower to your ass. You’re on your tippy toes tongue swirling around his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck “oh sorry” you hear someone say causing you to pull apart; a nurse having walked in to check on a baby in the NICU.

You’re eyes go wide and you turn your back hiding your embarrassment against Fred’s chest. “Sorry about that” he responds clearing his throat, a hand gently touching yours.

“No it’s okay” she responds you can hear how flustered she is without even seeing her face “I was just getting something.”

“We were leaving anyways” Fred explains pulling back from you. He looks down at you, embarrassment plastered on your face. He smirks at you, you hiding your face in your hands. You hear her footsteps descend out of the room; Fred’s hands pull your arms down and you into his chest.

You look up at him a large grin plastered on his face but embarrassment still showing on yours “sorry” he says brushing your hair behind your shoulders. “I was going to wait until we all got home, but I just couldn’t wait.”

You run your fingers over his forearms “babe are you apologizing for proposing?” you ask staring into his golden brown eyes.

“No, but I am sorry for doing it in the NICU” he laughs. “I had a plan, a more private plan. Dinner, candles, music, the sunset. Ugh it was such a good plan” he groans.

You smile chuckling at him “babe none of that stuff matters. I don’t care how you propose just that you did.” You wrap your arms around his neck pulling his face closer to yours “we’re getting married” you squeal.

“Mhm Mrs. Andersen” he mumbles a hand returning to your back bringing you closer to him but before he can do anything Noah begins to cry in the car seat. Fred chuckles and places a quick kiss on your cheek “forgot babies have a radar for when you touch their mom” he groans. You pull apart laughing and Fred turns to pick up both their carriers with ease. He walks out of the room first you trailing behind, you feel yourself getting wet watching him from behind. You see the veins of his biceps, his back and shoulder muscles barely straining with the weight. The fabric clinging to his torso being stretched around his flexing muscles makes your panties immediately dampen, you bite your bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning for everyone to hear.

A little while later you open the door and Oliver comes running to greet you “my brothers” he says as Fred sets the carriers down. Fred pulls him into his arm for a hug “yeah, they are home now. This one is Lucas and this one…”

“Is Noah” Oliver claims. “When can I play hockey with them?” he asks earning a laugh from both of you. “In a little bit, they need to get a little bit bigger, a little stronger” Fred responds.

“Right now they will be just doing a lot of eating and sleeping so they can grow. But soon they will be big enough to play with you” you say hugging him. Oliver wanders off unimpressed with that answer, all he has been talking about is playing hockey with them for months. You chuckle slightly shaking your head while you and Fred take the twins to sleep in their bassinets.

“You like your ring babe?” Fred asks when you sit beside him on the couch.

“Honestly I haven’t really looked at it” you say laughing. “It was such an amazing day, but this ring could be plastic I wouldn’t care.”

“Better not be plastic for what I paid for it” he laughs.

“I just mean, this isn’t about the ring, it’s about what it represents” you say kissing him. You sit up on your knees running your hand through his beard “it represents us; our family, our crazy love story and I honestly couldn’t care what it looks like or where you got it.”

You bring your lips to his for a soft kiss “but now that you brought it up” you giggle pulling away.

You bring your left hand closer to your face examining the beautiful engagement ring sparkling on your finger. There is one large oval cut centre stone that shines in the light, and is surrounded by multiple smaller halo diamonds. There is some of the smaller diamonds going down the platinum band.

“This ring is so beautiful” you kiss him again.

“You deserve it babe” he says kissing you back and pulling you into his lap. He brings your fingers up to his and slides the ring off you. Confusion washes over your face and he brings up the band “see that” he says showing you the engraving on the inside of the band. You pick the ring from his hand reading the tiny cursive on the inside.

Du var ventetiden værd 12-02-2021

“You were worth the wait” he whispers and you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“Fred” you whisper as he slides it back onto your finger. Your eyes look up to meet his gaze your fingers becoming intertwined with his. “It’s too much babe, like way too much” you say not even wanting to know the price tag that comes along with it.

“Nonsense elskede, nothing is ever enough for you” he kisses you again in a deep passionate kiss. “You do so much for me; I would give you the world if I could.” The smile plastered on Fred’s face has yet to dissipate since you were at the hospital becomes engulfed in your lips. You bring him in for a deep passionate kiss his hand sliding to your side; “yuck daddy” you hear Oliver chirp from his toys. You both pull apart and start laughing with your foreheads still touching.

“Daddy gave mommy her pretty ring” Fred says to Oliver.

“It’s so pretty mommy” he responds building with his blocks. You turn to Fred eyes narrowed slightly “you took him to see the ring?” you ask knowing he doesn’t have the best track record with secrets.

“Yeah you were sleeping and I had an appointment at the jewelers to pick out the setting so I had to bring him. When we came home you were still asleep so I think that helped him not being able to tell you right away. But he said it was the prettiest ring ever” you smile at that, having to agree with your toddler.

Later that night you crawl into bed having just got the twins down, Fred joins you soon after having put Oliver to sleep. You slide up beside him in the crook of his arm, him pulling you against his chest. His hand gently strokes over your back rubbing soft circles. You sigh at the contact, softly running you your finger up and down his stomach. You both lie there in a state of silent bliss for the first time in months, your family finally complete.

Your finger slides low, feeling the hairs resting just above his pelvis. You lay your hand flat, palm sliding across his lower abs, “(Y/N)” he groans a sharp exhale exiting his mouth.

Your head tilts up to look at him, the edges of his lips curling up slightly. “What” you ask innocently batting your lashes.

He shifts a bit under you; bringing his hand to grip your wrist “behave” he grunts.

“Why?” you ask coyly rolling more onto your stomach. You free your hand and begin to palm over him through his boxers again.

“We can’t” he says while your lip attaches to his neck sucking softly. A moan leaves his lips, your leg hooks over his “who says” you whisper nipping his ear. You straddle him, lips peppering his neck and collar bone. You roll your hips feeling his semi-hard member for the first time in over 3 months.

“(Y/N)” he groans shifting under you trying to free himself but it only encourages you, sucking harder on his neck. He carefully flips you onto your back “you have to stop. It’s not fair to start something you can’t finish.”

A grin crosses your face “well good thing the doctor cleared me to finish this.”

“Oh yeah” he smirks arms resting on either side of your head. His hands tangle into your hair lips hovering an inch from yours. You bite your bottom lip nodding up at the large Dane above you. Fred brings his lips down to yours locking you in a kiss. It is a heated kiss full of passion and hunger, both of you yearning for this long forgotten touch.

His lips gently attach to the sweet spot below your ear; you tilt your neck allowing him more access a soft moan leaving your lips. His hand slides under your tank top, finding your perk nipple; he gently massages it while your back arches off the bed.

He gently spreads your legs with his thighs and brings a hand up the inside of your thigh to your slit. He runs it over you feeling some juices that have collected “fuck baby” he mumbles “your soaked.”

“Have been for weeks” you moan feeling his digits dance around your entrance. His thumb begins to softly graze over your swollen bud. You feel his two fingers gently open your folds waiting to sink in. He drops his head onto your shoulder and huffs in disappointment.

“What is it Fred?” you whisper sensing his hesitation.

“I don’t want…what if I hurt you” he asks softly.

“We went through this after I gave birth to Ollie, and you didn’t hurt me then” you explain bringing your hand up into his hair gently running it through.

“Yeah but last time you weren’t in a car accident that almost killed you” he says to your chest head buried between your breasts. “It’s different than last time” he whispers pulling his head up resting on his forearms.

You cup his face gently running your hand through his beard “babe I love you and how much you worry. But I am fine; the doctor said so. I promise you I am fine” you draw his lips down to yours kissing him softly.

Fred’s eyes shift over your face while he processes your words. “If you want to wait then we will wait, but whether we have sex tonight, a week from now or a month from now these worries won’t go away. They won’t go away until we have sex and you see it’s true. But my preference is to have sex with my incredibly sexy fiancé tonight” you pop the word fiancé, it being the first time the word has fallen from your lips.

“Fiancé” he hums “I like that” a large grin plastered on his face.

You raise your eyebrows at him a sideways grin on your face feeling him shift above you. “Well get used to it fiancé” you grin. His mouth re-attaches to your neck gently nipping the skin causing whimpers to slip from your lips.

“What about birth control babe? We haven’t needed condoms in a while” he murmurs against you skin gently biting your neck.

You gasp brining your hands to his broad shoulders the warm feeling of his breath drawing you closer. He sucks on your sweet spot your nails digging in slightly to his skin. “Well” you moan “I didn’t get any today but the doctor said breastfeeding is effective at preventing pregnancy” you trail off feeling him massaging your sensitive breast softly. Your eyes roll slightly into the back of your head his mouth trailing lower down your chest where the shirt allows.

“And I’m going to make an appointment for an IUD soon and then no more babies” you say between your moans. He bites your tank top and pulls the fabric lower with his teeth exposing your breast. His mouth attaches to the freshly exposed skin “but until then we should wait no?” he mumbles.

“We can wait until I get an IUD which I don’t even have an appointment for, or you can run to the store and buy some condoms” you groan tilting your neck while his teeth gently graze over your nipple. “But the doctor said breast feeding is 99% effective for six months or something.” “That’s pretty good” he mumbles pulling your shirt over your head reattaching his mouth to your breasts.

“Yeah and I’ll get an IUD before then” you groan hands sliding down his back. “Babe their sensitive” you groan while he sucks on your breasts.

“They are also larger than normal” he smiles popping his head up to look at you.

“Both the result of breast feeding” you respond laughing at him. You feel his hard member pressing into your stomach through his boxers.

Your hand slides further down his firm back feeling the curve of his muscles while he exhales above you. Your hands reach the elastic of his boxers; they slip under the band and begin to pull the fabric down his ass. You gently grip it and squeeze, pulling him toward you earning a chuckle from him.

He pulls your shorts down your legs and you feel his hard member pressing at your entrance “you sure” he asks one final time. You nod and feel him slowly slip in your walls causing you to take a deep breath in.

He stops only partially in watching your face scrunch up, slowly exhaling “it’s okay” you whisper. He pulls out almost all the way and slides back in at a painfully slow pace, again not using his full length. He does this a few more times allowing you time to stretch and familiarize yourself with him.

Your hands grip the hair on the back of his neck while he continues his slow pace. You arch your back and roll your hips trying to bring him deeper but he pulls back still not bottoming out in you. He rocks his hips in and out a few more times, you bend your knee and his large calloused hand runs up and down the back of your thigh slowly keeping his gentle rhythm inside you.

“Babe” you groan putting your hands onto his shoulder pushing his body away from you causing him to pull out. Fear washes over his face thinking something is wrong. “I’m not going to break” you push him onto his back straddling him.

You grip his member and line yourself up slowly drop down on him, taking him in. You feel your walls fully take him in; you stare at the man below you for a second allowing a smile to cross your face. You rise up drop down on him, Fred allowing you to set the pace, his hands gently holding your hips. Your hand drops onto his lower abs your head falling backward while you continue slowly rising on him.

Soft moans begin to leave your lips, your lashes graze your cheeks. His thumb presses into the sides of your hips a grin crossing his face as he relaxes watching you. You hand slides up his chest, your hair falling in front of your face while you slowly increase the pace. Fred brings a hand around his thumb resting against your hungry bud.

He locks eyes with you and you nod; his thumb pressing soft circles bucking his hips up into you. Your hand slides across his chest slick with sweat to his shoulder; digging into him. You fall forward Fred catches you while he sits up in the bed bringing his mouth to your swollen breast. His other hand trails up your spine lightly grazing your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. You shudder against his touch while his hand makes it way to your hair tangling into it.

You feel your high approaching, the familiar burn building in the pit of your stomach. Fred flattens his tongue licking around your nipple; your arms wrap around his neck running your nails against his scalp.

“Close baby?” he mumbles sucking on your neck.

You bite your bottom lip deep moans leave you as you are unable to respond, though you know Fred knew the answer before even asking the question. After 3 and a half years Fred knows your body almost better than you do, and he noticed your telltale signs as soon they started.

Whimpering at the sensation overcoming your body, you draw him closer; pulling your body against his. He bites your shoulder and you cry out head falling backward. He uses this as an opportunity to nip the exposed flesh along your collarbone.

Fred’s hips continue to lift from the bed, him now taking over the pace. You feel him stutter getting close to his high. His thumb presses firmer into your swollen bud as you feel your walls starting to flutter around him.

“Cum for me (Y/N)” he strains.

A few more thrusts and you feel the coil in your stomach snap, you clench pulling him deep inside of you. Fred grunts before twitching inside of you, and you are flooded with his familiar warmth. He shoots wave after wave of cum into your pussy while you moan into his shoulder. After a few thrusts Fred stills under you allowing you both to capture your breaths.

“You okay babe?” he asks tilting your head to look into your eyes. You nod a few soft whimpers leaving your lips in response. You sit there in bliss Fred brushing the hair off your forehead. After a deep breath the edges of your lips curl up into a smile “perfect” you finally whisper in response.

His fingers gently run over the curves of your body settling on your waist. He slowly lifts you up slipping out of you, a mixture of juices spilling down your thigh while he sets you beside him. You go to lie down but Fred quickly picks you up, pulling you against his sweaty bare chest. He brings you into the shower, sitting you on the bench, the cool marble sending a chill through your body.

Fred turns on the water and looks at you, goosebumps covering your body teeth clattering. He runs his hand under the stream turning his attention to you laughing at the sight “it’s not cold, you’re so dramatic” he laughs. He reaches out wrapping his large hand around your wrist pulling you against his hard chest.

“You love it” you chuckle arms wrapping around his waist guiding him backwards to the stream.

“Mhm” he hums spinning you into the water “I sure do fiancé.”

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #Freddie Andersen #fred andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #nhl fic #nhl smut #because two people got drunk #my writing

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silverarmedassassin · 3 years

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Home For the Holidays (1)

Bucky x Reader | Words: 8,608 | Warnings: None

A/N: Happy holidays and happy December 16! This is my holiday submission for @wonderlandmind4 Fall/Winter challenge. My prompt was: B is very enthusiastic to introduce A to all their traditions, but tries to be sensitive when A seems like they’re struggling to fit in/enjoy themselves.

I’ve been working on this guy for so long, so I decided to split this up into two parts. Part two will be posted this weekend! I’m so happy to finally be sharing this bad boy with you all! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think. Happy reading!🎄

From the time he was a young boy, Bucky has had an aversion towards the elderly. Which is ironic considering since, technically speaking, he is the elderly now. It’s not that he doesn’t like old people; it’s just that they make him uncomfortable. Which is why, on a balmy Sunday in October, when he walks into the Brooklyn Manor nursing home, he feels his skin crawl.

This trip has been a long time coming. Two years on the run, a voluntary deep freeze, a universal war, and the obliteration of half the earth’s population and its subsequent return, to be exact. But no amount of time would ever prepare Bucky for the visit he was about to make. But it was “essential to his healing,” as Sam so often liked to say. This, along with therapy and the establishment of a place of his own outside of the Tower, was meant to help him move past what had happened to him, help him see that he was a victim and that people still loved him despite what he was forced to do for all of those years.

"Good morning," a cheery redhead says from her spot behind the front desk. "Can I he-" She cuts herself off when she looks up from the computer screen and sees who is looming over her.

"Er, hi," Bucky says, suddenly convinced this is a terrible idea. He should expect nothing less, considering his line of work, both current and past. "I was told Rebecca Proctor lives here..."

It took a second for the woman to register what Bucky had said, but then she jumps into action and begins to type into her computer. "Of course! Are you a relative?"

"Brother."

Her eyes go wide for a second before it clicks. "Oh my goodness, of course." The woman grabs a sticky note from the pad next to her keyboard and scribbles down a series of numbers before handing it to him. "Her room number is 117. This is the code to get into the residence portion of the building. If you need help finding the room, there should be a nurse's station in every hall."

Bucky offers a tight smile and nod of appreciation as he takes the slip of paper from the woman. As he makes his way deeper into the facility, he can feel his nerves waxing and waning with each step. He shouldn't be nervous. It was just Becca, just his little sister, one of the last living ties to his life before all of this. But it had been so long, who knew if she would even recognize him?

When Bucky recruited Sam to help him find out where, or even if, his sister was living, he figured it would be a fruitless quest. He was surprised, however, when Sam came to him a week later with the address of the building he was currently attempting to navigate, shyly dipping his head every time he would pass an older woman in a wheelchair or a group of men concentrating on a board game. Sam had managed to hunt her down with a little help from his Avenger title. The nurse couldn't give him much information since he wasn't a relative or listed on her medical files, but what she could share broke Bucky's heart.

At 102 years old, technically a little less since she was a Snap victim, Becca's memory was less than stellar. Her children had made the tough decision to place her in a home after her mind had started to slip, and she was no longer able to care for herself. It makes Bucky feel guilty because he wasn't around to help.

But today, hopefully, that would change.

After a little wandering and a helpful point from a nurse, Bucky finds himself standing in front of the oversized, thick oak door with a golden plaque in the center proudly displaying "117." He waits a moment, listens for any sign that someone is in the room, but all he hears are the general noises of a nursing home just after lunchtime. He raises his hand to knock but stops short of making contact. Should he knock? What if she’s sleeping? He wouldn't want to wake her. He decides to slowly press the door open instead.

He enters the room slowly, unsure of what he will be greeted with when he reaches the end of the short hall blocking his view from his sister's bed. What he sees, however, thoroughly surprises him. Instead of finding a small, frail body lying in a too-sterile hospital-grade bed, he finds his sister sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of her window, quietly looking out into the garden just outside. After a moment of shifting back and forth on his feet, Bucky clears his throat in an attempt to catch Becca's attention.

The woman slowly turns her head to eye the intruder, and, to Bucky's amazement, a slight look of recognition flashes across her face. Despite her age and sunken appearance, her bright blue eyes still shine as brilliant as they did when she was a little girl. He focuses on those eyes as he slowly crosses the room to her.

"Hey, Becca. Do you," Bucky grimaces as the falter in his voice caused by the tears that are starting to form in his own blue eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

To save his sister from having to crane her frail neck to look up at him, he settles himself into the chair across from hers. The smooth velvet is cool on his overheated skin, and he could sink into the feeling of comfort it gives him. Another piece of home, he thinks as a picture of his family's home flashes across his mind, the two chairs nestled in a similar position to how Becca has them now.

Rebecca studies her brother for a moment before a thin but bright smile spreads across her aged features, and Bucky lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "You're from the pictures. Just over there."

Bucky watches as a boney finger points to the dresser, the top neatly cluttered with picture frames and trinkets, a sign that his sister had lived a full and happy life after he'd gone. He gets up and makes his way to the piece of furniture to better look at the mixture of black and white and colored photos scattered together. It's strange, he thinks, seeing his sister's life play out across the years in the span of just a few short seconds. When he lands on a black and white photo in an aged frame, he freezes. Smiling back at him are his parents, Bucky himself sitting in front of them on their home's front steps, and Becca nestled snugly in their mother's arms. From when they first brought her home, Bucky thinks to himself as he reaches out and caresses the delicate glass. He moves on to another older photo, this one depicting the two Barnes children dressed in their Sunday best with a scrawny Steve Rogers thrown into the mix. Bucky shakes his head at the sight of his best friend, remembering all the trouble he used to get the two of them in.

The last photo he sees, though, causes a lump to rise and settle in his throat. Frozen in time in the cracked and fading film is the last time he ever saw his family. Bucky, Rebecca, and their parents stand on the dock just in front of the boat he was to ship off on. Becca and his mother have a tight grip on him, and his father only offers a tight smile to the camera. Looking at the image of his younger self, not too different from what he looks like now, is a heart-wrenching moment. The man in that photo has yet to see death first-hand, feel the visceral need to kill or be killed. That man was still innocent, naive to the world, and convinced he was invincible.

Bucky remembers that day and how, despite the nerves, excited he was to see someplace other than dinghy Brooklyn. Yeah, that war wasn't one he signed up to fight, but he'd made a promise to himself he would do what he needed to keep his ma and sister safe.

As he reaches for the frame, a soft knock on the door startles him from his thoughts. "Mrs. Proctor!" a sweet voice sing-songs as the door is pushed open once again. "I hope you didn't fill up at lunch. I brought-Oh!"

Standing in the doorway, both hands full of reusable bags filled to the brim with goodies of all sorts, is a young woman. Her smile, one of the prettiest Bucky's ever seen, he thinks, falters just a little when she sees his towering form taking up so much space in Becca's room. However, she recovers quickly and nudges the door shut behind her as she makes her way deeper into the room.

"I didn't know you were expecting company this afternoon," the woman says and deposits the bags onto the bed. "Who is this?"

Bucky studies the woman in an attempt to figure out who she is to his sister. She couldn't be a daughter or granddaughter, right? She looked nothing like them. Plus, she was calling her Mrs. Proctor. Bucky also felt confident in his ruling that she was not a nurse or staff member at the facility, considering she wasn't wearing scrubs or donning a facility badge.

The only indication that she even belongs in this facility is the sticker she wears proudly just above her heart, with "Y/N" scrawled in bright red letters.

"The pictures," Becca finally says with a smile, pointing towards Bucky. "He's from the pictures."

Their visitor looks between Bucky and Rebecca with a soft look somewhere between pity and a faint sense of joy. "Bucky," the frail old woman says, and Bucky instantly feels the lump that had settled into his throat not ten minutes earlier begin to grow again.

Y/N must sense the energy shift in the room because she quickly pulls out a few homemade goodies wrapped in cellophane and places them on the rolling table next to Becca's bed. "Well, I'll let you be with your visitor, Mrs. Proctor," she says as she shoulders her bags again. "I'll see you Tuesday evening, okay?"

Becca simply nods as she watches the younger woman make her exit, then shifts her attention to Bucky as he steps back towards her and crouches down.

"Bec, you remember me?"

She says nothing at first but brings her hand up to rest on Bucky's freshly shaved cheeks, a fresh set of tears gathering in their twin blue eyes. "You came back."

Bucky sits with his sister for two hours after they reacquaint themselves. The nurse that spoke with Sam was right; it was difficult to be around her, as she often slipped up with her memory. She couldn't remember the names of her grandchildren, nor her great-grandchildren, but when she saw their smiling faces looking back at her in the pictures, she knew they belonged to her. Her fragile mind, however, seemed to favor older faces and memories. She could recall events from when she was a teenager and even got some details right from when Bucky shipped off. The remembrance came with a repeat of the same stories two or three times, but Bucky didn’t mind. He was never around to bear witness to some of these stories, and it was just good to hear his sister’s voice again.

It's around 3 o'clock when Rebecca begins to grow tired, and so Bucky takes that as his cue to take his leave. He helps his sister into her bed for a pre-dinner nap, then quietly makes his exit when he is sure she is fast asleep. For a visit he was hesitant to make, he can't think of a better way to have spent his Sunday afternoon.

As Bucky makes his way back through the winding halls of the facility, a jaunty tune he recalls from his teenage days plays through his head, and he feels like he could face the world if needed, which is why he finds himself doing the unimaginable as he reaches the redhead at the front desk.

“Excuse me,” he says with a renewed sense of confidence that had been absent earlier in the day. “I don’t know if you can give me this information, but there was this woman...Y/N I think her name is. I don’t think she was a nurse, but maybe someone else that works here? Would you be able to tell me if she was still around?”

The woman smiles gently back at him but shakes her head. “We’re such a large facility, I’d need to see a face to know exactly who you’re talking about.”

There’s a momentary lapse in his confidence, realizing just how weird the question could come off. He’s suddenly very glad she had no idea who he was talking about and hopes she doesn’t mention it to anyone else.

“Uh, thanks anyway,” he mutters as he gives a small nod. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Oh well, he thinks to himself, at least I could make it out my door this morning.

The Snap impacted each and every person differently. While most think the Vanished had it the worst, people tend to forget about those left behind. Many lost their jobs due to closures and shortages, others were evicted due to insufficient funds for rent. The uncertainty of it all, the not knowing what happened to family and friends, not knowing when you’d find your next job, if you’d have money to buy groceries this week, took a harder toll on some than others.

You had been a relatively fortunate one. Since moving to the city, you hadn’t quite made a large group of friends yet, which meant there were fewer people for you to lose. Your family had somehow lucked out as well. Due to an abundance of workers suddenly gone without a trace, you’d been able to snag a corporate position that you managed to hold onto even after the Snap was reversed.

However, the one downside was the aftermath of families coming back to their homes only to find that someone new was living in their space. That, unfortunately, happened to you. Two days after everyone reappeared, you had a knock on your front door. When you opened it, you found a lovely couple who had just been married before the Snap and had just started renting the apartment you were living in. And, even though you’d called this building your home for the past five years, you did what any half-decent individual would do and moved out. Goodbye state-of-the-art gym and central location, hello paper-thin walls, and a forty-five-minute one-way commute.

At least you were able to take a few days off of work to get your belongings out of the old apartment and into the new one. Most of the larger furniture had been the couple’s, which meant you only had to carry a few pieces into your second story Brooklyn brownstone apartment. The problem, however, was that there was no elevator in this renovated building, which meant you had to find a way to carry your low-quality Ikea TV stand up the too-narrow stairs without busting a wall or your furniture. The only thing you were close to bursting was a nerve because it was turning out to be more of a two-person task, and you were the only one participating in this moving process.

“Fuck you,” you groan as one of the stand’s legs gets caught on the stairs again. Despite the chilly breeze that was blowing in from the building’s front door you had propped open, you were perspiring more than would be deemed ladylike. With the rate you were going, you would need to need to take another full day off just to get your stupid furniture into your apartment.

“Do you need some help?” a voice calls from above you. You peek over your shoulder to find a rather tall, rather bulky man standing at the second-floor landing. It hadn’t even occurred to you that people might actually need to use the stairs to, you know, go about their daily lives. What doesn’t go over your head, however, is the fact that the man standing at the top of the stairs was not a complete stranger like you originally thought, but someone you knew almost too well for not actually knowing him at all.

“That would actually be wonderful,” you huff out a laugh, attempting to be nonchalant about the fact that Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier - soldier turned assassin turned Avenger - was standing just feet away from you for the second time in twenty-four hours, this time in your new apartment building. Maybe this place wasn’t as safe as you had thought?

He makes his way halfway down the stairs, and you attempt to shimmy out of the way so that he can grab the corners you had been holding up. “If you could just get this thing back down the stairs, I could-” Your meager offering of help is cut short when Bucky manages to slot his arms into place and life the entire piece like it was nothing. A metal arm will do that to someone, you suppose.

You awkwardly direct him to your apartment, shoving open the door to 2B and waving your arm to give him a vague idea of where you want the stand. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. I thought for sure I was going to have to take the thing apart to get it up here.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Bucky says as he stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets, the stiff leather shifting and rubbing as he does so. When he looks at you for the first time, his bright blue eyes light up even more with recognition. “Hey, you were visiting my sister’s place the other day.”

“I was,” you laugh as you extend your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation before a warm, leathered hand slips into yours. “Bucky,” he says as if you wouldn’t already know who he is. "Do you, uh, need help bringing anything else up?"

You watch him as he slowly glances around your small apartment, void of much except for a few boxes and the stand he just carried up and your mattress you've yet to shimmy into the bedroom. “Oh! No,” you laugh, realizing how pathetic your new home looks at the moment. “I have movers bringing the rest of my things from storage tomorrow. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really no problem. If you, uh, ever need anything, I rent the unit above you. Not sure how often I’ll be home, but for whatever it’s worth,” he shrugs as you follow him back out your front door.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I guess I’ll be seeing you around?”

Despite his nod of agreement, you don’t see Bucky for another two weeks. You try not to let the unexplained but forewarned absence weigh on your thoughts. With the exception of listening for the creaks of his floorboards that never come and the brief visits with his sister, you find yourself doing everything you can to not fixate on the Grecian god of a man you have somehow come to call a neighbor.

It’s not until you receive a call from Rebecca’s daughter that you finally admit he was home.

“Oh, I’m...I’m so sorry…” you choke out when Mary informs you her mother had passed away in the early hours of the night. Despite having no real relation to the Proctor family, you’d known them for a handful of years due to your time spent at the nursing home. In that time, they’d come to be like family to you, so their loss affected you just as strongly as the passing of your own family member would. “Have you told her brother?”

“No. We have no way to contact him. I know he’d spent some time with Ma at the nursing home, so I left a message for them to pass the news and my number on if he came in or called. But I haven’t heard anything.”

“I actually have a way to reach him. I’ll tell him to give you a call, okay?”

When you get home the following day, you’re greeted by the sound of Bucky’s shower turning on. Five minutes later, it shuts off. You give him another ten before you make your way up to his apartment. The idea of telling this man, a practical stranger who you knew nothing about other than what you’ve read in books and seen on tv, that his sister passed away leaves you feeling nauseous. This isn't exactly what you pictured when you said you’d see him around.

He’s quick to answer his door. You’re taken off guard when his door is pulled open to reveal his broad chest covered in a blue Henley that is clinging to his still-damp skin. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and remember exactly why you were here.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” he asks as you drag your eyes up to meet his own.

You clear your throat and shake your head in an attempt to gather your thoughts. “Uh, yeah. No? I’m sorry to bug you, but I, uh...You haven’t heard from Mrs. Pro-er, I mean Rebecca’s daughter, have you?” When he says no, you sigh. You knew that was the answer you were going to get, but a part of you still hoped you weren’t going to have to be the one to deliver this information. “Mary called me yesterday. She, uh...She wanted you to know...uh...Rebecca passed away...early yesterday morning…”

You can visibly see Bucky shift through several emotions - shock, grief, anger, to finally an almost expressionless mask. You unintentionally stiffen at the sound of metal shifting and grating together, which seems to break Bucky’s haze. You can tell he’s struggling to find words in that moment, so you continue on, hoping a coherent sentence will come out.

“I know I’m probably not the person you want to hear this news from, but I couldn’t really give her a way to contact you and...Here!” You shove your hand out towards him, the small piece of paper you wrote Mary’s number down on resting in your palm. “I told her I’d give you her number. So you could call her or whatever.”

Bucky just looks at the slip for a moment before you clear your throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wi-”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he cuts you off and grabs for the paper. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go call her.”

Before you can respond, Bucky is turning his back. “Yeah, okay,” you whisper to the dark oak of his door before making your way back down to your own apartment.

“The service was beautiful, Mary,” you say as you hug Rebecca’s daughter. “She would have loved it.”

“It’s all thanks to Bucky. He paid for everything.” Mary says as she sets her gaze over your shoulder. “Or, I guess Uncle Bucky is more appropriate to say…”

You turn and follow her gaze to where the man in question is, his great-great nieces and nephew using him as their personal jungle gym. You can tell, even from across the room, that his face is absolutely glowing, eyes crinkled in the outer-corners with delight as Bridget, the youngest of the bunch, wraps her tiny arms around his neck and demands a horsey ride.

“I’m glad they’re taking it so well,” Mary says as she watches her grandchildren. “It’s almost like he’s been a part of their life this entire time instead of just appearing out of nowhere.” There’s no hostility in her voice when she says this. Rather, she sounds remorseful. “I went my entire life hearing stories about my uncle. My dead uncle. Yet, after all these years, he shows up looking exactly like he does in the pictures I’ve been looking at since I was a little girl.”

You felt for Mary and the rest of the family. You couldn’t begin to comprehend how difficult and confusing it must be to find out that the man you’d come to know as just a ghost story was alive and real and more than willing to be a part of even the most difficult moments in life. It’s a testament, you think, to how good of a man Bucky really is. Despite the horrors of his past and the apprehension he’s likely still faced with every day, he’s still willing to put himself out into a world that has been less than kind to him.

As if your thoughts summon him, Bucky looks up and over to where you are standing. When he catches your eye, his smile grows. You’re sure there has never been anything as beautiful as Bucky Barnes flashing a megawatt smile at you. “At least you’re in good hands.”

You decide not to stick around for the luncheon after the service so, after snagging a few refreshments and a quick chat with a few of the family members you recognize, you begin to inch your way closer to the exit. You hadn’t seen Bucky since you’d spoken with Mary, and you were in the middle of trying to figure out why that left you with a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re abruptly stopped on your way to the doors.

“You can’t leave before I get the chance to apologize for the other day,” Bucky says, a small smile gracing his face. He cleans up well, you decide as you get a better look at his lightly stubbled face. He has his hair tied back in a neat, low bun, which allowed his eyes to stand out more than they usually did, and a black-on-black suit is stretched just right over his broad chest. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was a model on loan to add some cheer to the rather dreary day.

Bucky quirks his head and shifts his body weight when it takes you a bit too long to answer, and it’s only then that you realize you’re ogling him. His sister just died, Y/N, you chastise yourself, this is not the time to be checking him out.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat, hoping he can’t feel the heat that is rapidly clawing up your neck radiating from you. “I don’t want to intrude on family time,” you say rather lamely. It was true, but for whatever reason, Bucky left you feeling almost guilty.

He lets out a humorless laugh and crosses his arms. “If anyone is intruding, I think it’s me,” he says as he looks over your shoulder back into the banquet room the rest of the family is in.

You turn to follow his line of sight and can’t help but smile when you see one of his great-nieces twirling around, showing off her dress. “Nah, don’t say that. The little ones seem to love you,” you laugh, hoping to lighten the mood just a little.

Bucky chuckles and then sighs. “Yea, but I just...don’t feel like I belong.”

Hearing Bucky, this man who had his entire life ripped from him multiple times, who, after spending just a few short hours in total with, you ardently believed deserved every good thing in the world and then some, say that he feels he doesn’t belong among those who are supposed to love him most broke your heart. You know that it’s likely untrue that Rebecca’s family was anything but unwelcoming, but that Bucky even felt that way caused a pit to open in your stomach.

“Oh, Bucky…” you say softly, trying to avoid sounding full of pity. “I’m so sorry this all has happened to you.” He averts his gaze and shrugs. “You know what? I could probably stay for a little while longer…”

At that, Bucky looks back at you, eyes as bright as when his own sister recognized him on that very first day. You knew then that, no matter what, you’d do anything to keep that look on his face.

“I promise it won’t be for nothing. They have a ton of food, and I guess there are some famous deviled eggs that, not to sound awful but...are to die for.”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head as Bucky leads you back into the banquet room, excitedly rambling on about the various food items his relatives have to offer. After piling your plates full and grabbing a coffee, you follow Bucky to a small table conveniently tucked away in the corner. Over the next hour, you watch Bucky’s perfectly constructed walls begin to crumble just a little. You quickly uncover which topics make him uncomfortable, particularly those revolving around his current line of work and those he can talk about endlessly. You learn the ins and outs of what it was like being friends with Captain America before he was the size of a brick house. You also discover that Bucky is someone you could listen to talk for hours on end.

“I don’t think it ever came up,” Bucky says as he takes a seat back at the table, two fresh cups of coffee in hand, “how did you know my sister?”

You hum your thanks and take a sip before answering. “Well, a few years ago, or I guess a few years before the Snap, I started volunteering at the nursing home. You’d be surprised how many families just shove their parents or grandparents in those homes and forget about them. They get lonely and just want someone to talk to that isn’t a nurse or whatever. It got worse during those five years. Rebecca never really needed me to sit with her; her family visited all the time. However, she was still one of my favorite residents.

“She talked about you all the time, you know. Even when she couldn’t remember her own children’s names, she always had a story to tell about you. She was immensely proud of you.” Bucky grunts, and you playfully roll your eyes at him. “She was a good storyteller. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was trying to pull my leg or not. She...she was something else, but she’s going to be dearly missed.”

A somber sort of silence falls between the two of you then. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s the kind charged with a unique sense of melancholy. It’s so strange, you think, to share a common heartbreak with someone you still barely know. Loss and grief have a curious way of bringing those once unknown together.

“Uncle Bucky,” a high-pitched squeal cuts through the moment and brings with it the excited, flushed face of an excited great-niece. “Uncle Bucky, I made you something!”

Bridget worms her way up onto Bucky’s lap, a piece of paper with her hand traced to look like a turkey in its center. “To Unkle Bucky, Luv Bridget” was written sloppily across the top.

You watch as Bucky’s expression goes from one of strain to that of absolute joy. “Thank you so much,” he smiles as he takes the paper and examines it as if it were a piece on display at the Louvre. “I know exactly where I’m going to hang this as soon as I find a frame.”

The little girl, who bears a striking resemblance to her long-lost great-uncle, beams as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. You catch Bucky’s eye, causing him to break into an even wider smile. You hope he can see how truly and unconditionally he is loved.

You watch as she scrambles off back to where her brother and cousin are sitting, coloring away. You nod at the sweet drawing. “Planning on spending Thanksgiving with them?”

Bucky smooths his hand over the paper in front of him and thinks for a moment. “They invited me. I guess they, we, have family in Indiana that they usually visit for the holiday. I just...I don’t think so. I don’t want to be that far from where I’m needed most, and I think meeting a whole new set of family would be a bit much, ya know?”

You hum in response, fully understanding the dilemma. It’s unfortunate, though. “Well, I’m sure I could never compete with a real home-cooked meal, but I’m staying home because I don’t...really agree with the holiday and will be heating up a nice frozen turkey TV dinner if you would like to join. I might just throw in a pumpkin pie, too.”

Bucky looks up then, a soft, small smile turning up the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Y/N, really. But I’m not sure. Might not even be home,” he shrugs.

“Well,” you say as you look at the time on your phone, “the offer stands just in case you change your mind. But, hey, I think it’s time for me to leave for real now. I have some work to catch up on before I go back to the office tomorrow.”

You can tell he’s disappointed, but Bucky offers to walk you out anyway. He wants to stay and help his family clean up, or he would offer to walk you home. You make your rounds to say goodbye to the family you were familiar with and, when you reach the kiddie table to say goodbye, Bucky’s great-nephew Jackson refuses to let you go.

“Will I ever see you again even though we can’t come to visit Grammy no more?” he wails as he buries his little face into your stomach.

“Jackson, please,” his mother says as she comes to diffuse the situation. The little boy lets out one last sob into your dress before letting his mother pull him into her arms. “Y/N will still be around,” she smiles mischievously, directing her gaze over your shoulder to where Bucky waits at the front doors. “I’m almost sure of it.”

You can feel the heat of embarrassment as it claws up your neck, and you quickly give another round of hugs and goodbyes to the children before heading back to Bucky. “Is everything alright,” he asks as he hands you your coat.

“Fine. Jackson is just…” you slip on your coat and refuse to meet Bucky’s probing eyes, “dramatic sometimes.”

The weeks following Rebecca’s funeral saw Bucky locked away in his apartment. Calls from Sam and Wanda went unanswered, and the curtains were scarcely opened. He’d even ignored your attempts of delivering some semblance of comfort. The pasta dish you dropped off was left mostly untouched in his fridge, and he’d only managed to eat half a slice of a pumpkin pie you’d left for him on Thanksgiving. He knew that hiding away was doing nothing for his mental health, would do nothing to help him move past the loss and pain, but it was all he knew. How he reacted was all he could control, and Bucky liked to be in control.

His control, like most things in his life, came to an end far too quickly when Sam decided he’d finally had enough. Bucky knew that he couldn’t hide from his friends forever, but he would have liked to come out on his terms.

“Man, I know you’re in there,” Sam shouts as he knocks on the door of Bucky’s apartment. He’d been there for five minutes now, and, at this point, Bucky was testing to see how long he could keep the man waiting. “Seriously, Buck, open the door, or I’ll use Redwing to knock it down. And I won’t pay for repairs or reimburse your security deposit.”

Bucky sighs before hauling himself off of the couch. “What?” he deadpans as he opens the door. It takes everything in him not to slap the toothy grin off of Sam’s amused face.

“I was beginning to think I was going to have to call the Smithsonian - tell them to get your exhibit ready because, as far as any of us knew, you were dead,” Sam says as he pushes past Bucky into the apartment.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks again as Sam looks around the scarcely decorated apartment. From the discontent on his face, Bucky could tell Sam was less than thrilled with the state of his apartment. It was dark, the only furniture being a couch, a small coffee table, and an old TV he’d stolen from the Tower. Not exactly what one would consider a "space of their own."

“Listen,” Sam says as he moves to push open the curtains, “you’ve spent enough time locked up in here. You need to get out, see the sun, get some air. Plus, Wanda misses you, and that spider kid has been coming around asking for you.” Bucky grimaces at that. Peter Parker had asked his fair share of questions about his arm, and Bucky didn’t feel like entertaining the teenager anymore.

“Don’t give me that look,” Sam continues as he flops down on the couch. “Go get dressed. You can hang out with the crew for a few hours today. I promise if you have the worst time of your life, I’ll let you sit in your own filth and wallow for the foreseeable future, okay?”

After a moment of contemplation, Bucky agrees. Despite his dwindling interest in seeing anyone outside of his own reflection, he knew that seeing his friends - his chosen family of mix-matched misfits - would make him feel at least a little better. So, he allows Sam to tidy up the apartment, put away the dishes Bucky has been neglecting, and open the rest of the windows while he goes to get dressed. Bucky will never admit, however, just how much lighter he felt when he emerged from his room to the man he reluctantly called his best friend, smiling back at him.

December creeps up in a flurry of deadlines and personal obligations. The two-week break your company gave you every holiday season was a welcomed reprieve to the daily hustle and bustle of life, but it also meant long hours at the office in the weeks leading up to the holiday. Plus, the holidays were always a sour topic around the nursing home, as many of the residents were left to their own devices instead of being a part of family celebrations. That meant, in addition to staying until six or seven o’clock at work, you were spending hours afterward crafting decorations, cards, and personalized goodies for each of the residents you visited each week. This all, understandably, left you with little to no free time.

So, when the first of the month came rolling in, and you were yet to have played a single Christmas song or even thought about pulling your tiny table-top tree from storage, you felt deflated. You’d never been so thankful for online shopping and overnight shipping because, by Saturday afternoon, you had a brand new artificial Christmas tree waiting for you on your building’s front steps. In your excitement of getting into the holiday spirit, however, you completely overlooked just how you were going to get this tree up your narrow stairwell. It was like moving day all over again, except for this time you were sure a knight in shining vibranium armor was not going to show up to save the day.

To your dismay, you hadn’t seen Bucky since his sister’s funeral a month ago. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to make contact. You had prepared him a small meal the day after and had even left him half of the pumpkin pie you picked up from the market down the block. The only way you could tell he was even inside his apartment was the fact that, when you went back up to check, the items were gone. That or one of your other neighbors had taken them for themselves. Either way, you were missing Bucky. Even though you’d only had one proper conversation the entire time you’ve known him, you enjoyed just knowing Bucky was around. The thought of him suffering to any extent made your heart twist into unmanageable knots.

You sigh as you prop the building’s front door open, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. You were strong and independent, and you were more than capable of getting this hefty box up to your apartment. With that mindset in tow, you’re pleasantly surprised to turn around and find Bucky and another man making their way towards the building.

“He’s alive,” you exclaim, unable to hide the smile that blooms across your face. You’d feel embarrassed at the overexcitement that laced through your greeting, but you were genuinely happy to see that he had been out of his apartment and with a suspected friend.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” Bucky says as he looks down to his boot-clad feet. Despite his quiet demeanor and tendency to be closed off, you’d never seen Bucky so...shy.

So you turn your attention to the second man standing in front of you. “I’m Y/N,” you smile as you bound down the stairs to the men, hand out and waiting for Bucky’s friend to shake, “Bucky’s neighbor!” You hope that whatever icy tension that had settled over Bucky would thaw if you directed the spotlight away from him.

“Sam,” the man says as a toothy grin breaks across his face. “Bucky didn’t mention he had neighbors.”

“It’s an apartment building, bird brain, of course I have neighbors,” Bucky mumbles as he buries his hands in his jacket pockets. He looks at you then or rather looks past you at the tall box leaning against the brick building. “What’re you up to?”

“Well, I just got a new Christmas tree delivered,” you say as you bite your lip and try to hide your desperation for help. “I was just getting ready to take it up.”

Bucky looks from you to the tree before settling his gaze on you. “Do you need some help,” he asks coyly.

You don’t even attempt to mask your smile as you guiltily nod your head. As Bucky turns to look at his friend, Sam puts his hands up. “Nah, man, I was getting ready to leave. Plus, heavy lifting is more your thing,” he says before looking at you. “Plus, Bucky is still learning how to play nice with others. And it’s my day off.”

You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes. “You better go relax, then. I’m sure a day off is rare for a superhero.”

As Sam starts backing up towards the way they came, he nods. “I like her, Buck. She really gets it. It was nice meeting you, Y/N!”

“Bye, Sam,” you wave as you watch him make his way down the sidewalk. “He seems really nice,” you say as Bucky hauls the tree box over his shoulder.

“He’s a pain in my ass,” he grumbles as he nods towards the front door.

All you can do is laugh and lead the way to your apartment.

“Thank you so much, Bucky,” you say as he finishes up pulling the faux tree from its too-small confines.

“It’s not a problem,” he shrugs and takes a step back to look at the tree. It’s in pretty rough shape, but once you’re done with it, no one will ever be able to tell it’s lived most of its life in a cardboard box. “You know, I haven’t had a Christmas tree since 1942.”

You stop shuffling around in the bin of ornaments and turn to look at him. “You’re joking,” you say, absolutely appalled. When Bucky shakes his head, you make a decision. “Stay and decorate with me, then.”

This obviously takes Bucky off guard, and before he can even attempt to come up with a reason to say no, you’re busting out your best pout, absolutely determined to share some holiday cheer with him this afternoon.

“Fine,” he sighs, but you can see the hint of a smile twitching on his lips.

You put Bucky to work immediately, pointing at boxes and bins full of ornaments, tinsel, and other holiday goodies. To your delight, he has quite the eye for placing ornaments, a skill he attributes to having a best friend who forced him into art classes and design lectures as teenagers. You’re almost certain he’s enjoying himself, a suspicion that is all but proven when he starts cheerfully humming along to the Christmas station you have playing on your phone.

“I’m really happy to see you out and about today,” you say as you hand him a sparkling orb to hang on one of the taller branches.

Bucky falters in his movements just a little before delivering the ornament onto its new home for the season. “I’m sorry I disappeared for a little bit…”

“Oh, Bucky,” you say as you place a hand on his metal forearm. You'd been surprised when he took his jacket off to reveal his metal arm with little more than the sleeve of his t-shirt covering it. You try not to think of the implications behind the small but seemingly intimate action. “Never apologize for how you grieve. We all process and deal with things differently.”

A moment passes in silence, though it’s not awkward. It’s simply a moment where both of you seem to process what was said. Surprisingly, it’s Bucky who breaks the silence. “That pasta thing you left me, that was really good,” he chuckles.

“Remind me, and I’ll write the recipe down for you. It’s one of my favorite comfort foods.”

Time passes easily with Bucky. Despite what Sam said early, Bucky is an excellent companion to decorate with. He cracks jokes every now and then and comments on your collection of antique ornaments. You even manage to get him to try some of that crockpot wine you had attempted to make earlier in the day. By dinner time, your tree is fully dressed and situated in its corner, and you’re tipsy on holiday cheer and alcohol. As you make your way towards the couch with a fresh glass in your hand, Bucky begins to hum along to Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” as the beginning notes start to float through your apartment.

“God, I remember when this song came out,” he says quietly as you take your seat. “They played it nonstop at camp. Dunno what they were trying to do, raise our spirits, maybe? It just made me think about how Ma and Becca were going to be all alone that Christmas.” He pauses then, likely lost in the memory. You’re about to say something to pull him back from wherever he drifted off to when he adds, “I couldn’t help thinkin’ that this was a song I’d ask a girl to dance to, too.”

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you laugh as you set your wine glass down.

“Oh sweetheart, I had girls lining up outta the hall to dance with me back in the day. I wasn’t always so…” he turns to look at you and gesticulates with both arms to make his point, whatever that may be.

You squint your eyes in a challenging glare and stand. “You have to show me these moves, Bucky Barnes.” He opens his mouth to protest, but you quickly cut him off. “I’ll sing along if you don’t. I know you can hear the concerts I put on for my shampoo bottles in the shower. Save you and the neighbors the show, come on.”

Bucky gives you a mock grimace before giving in. You’re not sure if it’s the wine that’s causing time to feel so slow or if it’s the fact you want to savor the image of Bucky standing over you, flesh hand outstretched for you to take. You don’t question it, though, and simply step into his warm, welcoming embrace. It’s all too easy to melt into Bucky’s arms and allow him to guide you around your tiny living room.

A few moments pass with little more than Crosby’s melodic crooning drifting around the two of you. You hope that, despite how close you are, Bucky can’t hear how rapidly your heart is beating. When you finally muster the courage to look at him, you find that he was already looking at you. He squeezes your hand a little and gives you possibly one of the most tender smiles you’ve ever seen.

“Nice to know I still have it,” he exclaims as he winks, and you smile and shake your head before resting it on his shoulder.

When the song ends, Bucky ends his effortless glide across the antiqued hardwood floors, and you pull back from his chest enough so that you can look into his eyes. If your gaze lingers a little too long on his plump, pink lips, you’ll never admit. Despite the impossibly low lighting of the room, you can see the way Bucky’s crystal blue eyes sparkle and dance when they catch the lights from your tree.

“Thank you for helping me today,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“‘Course,” Bucky replies and, as the seconds pass, you’re pretty sure that he begins to lean towards you, eyes flicking between yours and your lips.

Just as you’re about to close the small distance, a disorienting ringing begins from somewhere. Bucky pulls away, irritation quickly taking over his expression. “Goddammit,” he practically growls as he pulls his phone from his pocket. “What, Sam?”

You watch as a range of emotions flash across Bucky’s face before a seriousness shadows his features. He barks out a gruff, “See you in a few,” before quickly ending the call. “We’re, uh, needed. Immediately.”

“O-oh,” you mummer, disappointed that he has to leave so quickly. You watch from where Bucky had stopped the two of you as he gathers his jacket and scrambles to put his boots on. He’s almost to your door when your brain finally catches up to what is going on, and, in that moment, you’re appreciative for how small your apartment is because you’re able to get to him before he is fully out of the apartment.

“Wait, Bucky,” you call as you grab for his arm. When he turns to look at you, you almost back out of what you’re about to say, but you persevere, knowing that the world will continue to turn if he rejects you. “Come to Christmas with me. My parents only live two hours away. We’re pretty low-key, no big party or anything. Please?”

Bucky considers you for a moment before he visibly softens and nods. “You know what, sure. That...that sounds great.”

You smile so wide when you hear him accept the invitation, something you thought for sure would be for not. Before you can even consider your actions, you’re leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his rough and prickly cheek. “Stay safe out there,” you say gently. Bucky simply nods, a blush begins to work it’s way up his neck.

You stand in your doorway until you hear the front door of your building click shut behind him. You’ll never confess to it, but when your own apartment door is securely shut behind you, you do an excited, happy dance.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #Wonderland4SeasonalWC

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 3 years

Text

Blame Me - Chapter 5

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Specified gender: Female

Word Count: 12K

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader,

TW: Canon typical violence, canon divergence, gore, murder, mention of past child death, mention of major character death (OC), Daryl and Aaron bonding time, Daryl and y/n bonding time, major character death

Genre: Horror ig?

Series: Blame Me

Requests: CLOSED

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, this is probably my least favourite chapter, but I can’t wait to write the next chapters. Chapter 6 and 7 are gonna be painful y’all so good luck. Enjoy!

Daryl was quiet, Beth noticed. He was always quiet, but not like this. He hadn't been like this since after he'd lost his girl. Not that anyone knew that except for his asshole older brother. Beth was worried, about everyone, but right now, she was worried for Daryl most of all. Any time he did open his mouth, something sarcastic, cold or cynical came out. It wasn't like him. Maybe in the early days, but definitely not now. He couldn't stop thinking about everyone they'd lost. Not just at the prison, everyone they'd lost along the way. Even who he'd lost before. He didn't have much to lose before, but the people he had, were everything. She was everything. But she was gone. Probably dead. He was just holding out hope on another pipe dream. But even despite that, he couldn't bring himself to remove his ring. The cool metal almost burnt his skin whenever he thought about her, or anyone else he'd lost. Like a reminder of his failure. Since the prison had fallen, every day with Beth felt like a blur.

He shouldn't dwell on it, he knew that, but he couldn't help but wonder how many people died. How many people got out. If anyone other than him and Beth did. Part of him thought that it didn't matter. Hershel was dead because he didn't kill the Governor when he had the chance. He owed it to the vet to protect his daughter. And somehow, that had ended up with them in some old shed, something similar to what he and Merle would have lived in once upon a time, in the middle of the woods. Somehow, he'd ended up playing a dumb game, like some damn teenagers. At least Beth wasn't too far off. He took a sip of the moonshine as she started explaining, clearly slightly tipsy from her first-ever drink.

"So first, I say something I've never done and if you have done it, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch. You really don't know this game?" Beth raised her eyebrows in surprise, not deterred by his so-called "intimidating" stare. Daryl moved the hand that was in front of his face, shifting his position slightly.

"I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Wait, are we startin'?" She asked, and while her face stayed the same, Daryl picked up on the teasing lilt in her voice, eyes shining slightly.

"How do you know this game?" He questioned, using his pinky to point at her

"My friends played. I watched," She shifted slightly before lightly shaking her head "Okay, I'll start. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Daryl reached forward to the glass of water and lifted it to his mouth, looking just as unamused as before "Ain't much of a game."

"That was a warm-up. Now you go," Beth insisted but Daryl just stared back at her for a second, shrugging.

"I don't know."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head," She shot back with a small smile. Plenty of things popped into his head, but they were too personal to share with Beth. Too much about his girl. He didn't know if he was ready to tell her yet. Daryl knew Beth wouldn't care, not really, but just thinking about her made his brain and chest hurt. An aching he couldn't get rid of.

"I've never been out of Georgia," Was the answer he settled on. He was gonna leave Georgia, right after his hunting trip. Leave early, fly to South Carolina and surprise (Y/N) and her ma. But it never happened. Dead made sure of that. Beth's eyebrows rose slightly. He was an outdoorsy guy, a hunter. She thought he'd have been all over.

"Really? Okay, good one. I've never... been drunk and did somethin' I regretted," She stated after taking a sip of her drink. Beth knew she was starting to push the line slightly. Knew his fuse was slightly shorter after the prison. But he didn't bat an eye, just reached forward and had a drink.

"I've done a lot of things," He replied, keeping his gaze on the table. Yeah, like leave his girl behind. Didn't even go looking. What kind of husband didn't even try to find his wife when the world ended? "I never been on vacation."

"What about campin'?" Beth questioned but Daryl shook his head immediately.

"No, that was just something I had to learn to hunt," Because, his family were shitty people, and didn't even think to go looking when he went missing as a kid. Not that he added that.

"Your dad teach you?" She asked, and she knew that the line was getting toed here. She'd never asked about his dad, but from interactions she'd overheard with Daryl and Rick, sometimes Carol or even Carl, their relationship hadn't been pretty. Daryl released a hum of agreement.

"Alright... never have I ever been in love," Beth said, and she saw Daryl's eyes flicker down to the ring she still wore from when she was still with Jimmy. She didn't really expect much, but it was the only thing that came to mind. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, bristling at the implication behind her words, and he found himself spinning his own ring with his thumb, absentmindedly.

"The hell ya implyin'" He snapped, eyes narrowing slightly, and Beth looked slightly alarmed by how defensive he got and how quickly. She'd seen his explosive temper before but she'd never been at the brunt of it. But Daryl didn't back down, even as she showed him her scared eyes. The damn girl had no right prying. He'd played her stupid ass game, given her some stupid ass answers. But then, he swore he saw (Y/N) in the corner, giving him that disapproving look that made him swallow any anger he'd had right up, and he looked to the floor, taking a second to breathe.

"Ya ain't ever been in love?" It was clear Daryl was asking about Jimmy and Zach. His brain wandered to Zach, asking him every day without fail about what he did before the apocalypse; getting bitten on the way out of that store; getting crushed by the helicopter. Having to deliver the news to beth, who didn't even react.

"I loved Jimmy sure, but I wasn't in love with him. Zach neither. Meant a lot to me, both of 'em but, never loved 'em like that. I only married Jimmy because I thought we were the last ones left," Beth explained, and to anyone else, it would have sounded cold. But Daryl understood. This world did weird shit to your brain, and it didn't surprise him that she'd latched to Zach and Jimmy. While he was thinking, Beth watched his expression. She noticed the look of despair that crossed his face quickly, and how it hardened a second after. And finally, after over a year of them being in the group together, she saw his ring, as he brought his arm to rest on his knee so his other hand could twirl it. He hadn't even noticed he'd done it. He bit his lip, deep in thought, before he looked up and saw Beth's expectant eyes.

"Did you have to kill her?" If that didn't get under his skin he didn't know what would. No disapproving look from his not-there wife could stop the rage bubbling in his chest. It boiled up his neck, to his face and he just knew he'd gone slightly red. Almost immediately, he saw regret on Beth's as he stood up.

"I'm going to take a piss," Daryl snarled, picking up one of the empty jars on the table and smashing it as he made his way over to the corner of the room. He heard Beth's breath hitch in a suppressed gasp of surprise.

"You have to be quiet!" Beth hissed, and that only pissed him off more. He knew there were walkers outside, knew he was being stupid, but she'd started prying. Drunk or not, she'd gone too far and he'd had enough.

"Can't hear ya! 'M taking a piss!" He yelled back, to which Beth shot back some response about being quiet, as he unzipped and started doing his business "What, are ya ma chaperone now?"

Daryl zipped himself back up but didn't bother to do his belt up, and it clanked against his button. He knew this would be a good place to drop it since she had gone silent, but she'd taken a dig at him. One way too personal. One that involved his family. One she had no business in. So he whirled around, voice much louder than it should have been.

"Oh, wait. It's my turn, right? I've never-never eaten frozen yoghurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothin' from Santa Claus," He slammed his hand against the cluttered table he stood next to, as the emotions that had built up over the past few days finally poured out. Beth looked scared, but there was anger dwelling behind her eyes too "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything."

Daryl had started pacing, and he narrowed in on the blonde, tone sharp and cold. He knew he was lying at that point. True, he'd never relied on anyone for protection. But he'd relied on his girl for so much that he didn't even know where that list started or ended. She just swam in his head, and she could see those disapproving eyes again. Normally they were directed at Merle, but now they were directed to him, real or not, it stung being at the end of her contempt. And that only pushed him over the edge. Beth tried to stop him with a call of his name, but now he'd begun there was little that would stop him.

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everythin' was fun. Like everything was a big game. Never got to say goodbye to ma wife. Never got to know if she was alive, dead, turned, murdered. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention," Beth didn't flinch when he brought up her failed suicide attempt. But when he mentioned (Y/N), that sad look was there again, and the anger in her eyes faded.

Daryl hadn't meant to say it, but he was so furious, so sad, so frustrated, so mad at the world, that it had slipped out, in a rare moment of vulnerability. He sprung the walls back up as soon as he'd let them down.

A crashing at the door and the growling of walkers made his head snap to the door, so fast he swore it should have snapped. And he couldn't stop. The seething, burning feeling was eating him up.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call his buddies," He tripped over the pans and pots and various other shit on the floor, making way too much noise. If he wasn't so angry, he would be cursing himself out now. He was sure he'd do that later.

"Daryl, just shut up," Beth begged through gritted teeth, but Daryl just turned around and pointing, a sharp smile playing on his lips. If Merle were here, he'd tell him he looked just like their Daddy. And he did, as much as he hated it. If his girl were here, she would be screaming at him. by now. She would have stopped him by now. But they were both gone. Just like everyone else.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I'm gonna teach you right now. Come on," Before he'd fully processed what he was doing, Daryl had grabbed Beth's arm, dragging her to the door and kicking it open. "It's gonna be fun."

"We should stay inside! Daryl, cut it out! Daryl!" She protested, screaming out as she tried to fight out of her grip but he wouldn't let her go.

"Dumbass. Come here, dumbass," Daryl whistled and the walker stumbled over, before he put a bolt in its shoulder, pinning it to the tree behind it. "You wanna shoot?"

"Daryl, I don't know how!" She exclaimed, fighting as Daryl pulled her in front of him, holding her in place with one hand as he got ready to shoot with the other.

"Oh, it's easier. Right corner," A bolt landed in the walker's leg and Beth finally broke free, turning around to face the redneck as he stepped away slightly, so he could pull the string back into place.

"C'mon it's fun," He was being fueled by unbridled rage and adrenaline now. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, that sounded suspiciously like Rick told him he'd regret this later but he pushed it away. Instead, he pulled Beth back into the previous position and shot the walker right where it's dead, rotting heart was.

"Kill it!" Daryl let go again as he stormed ahead to the walker.

"Come here, Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practice," Beth had decided that was enough, and with an annoyed huff, she sped ahead of Daryl to plant her knife into the walker's forehead "What the hell you do that for? We was having fun."

"No! You were being a jackass! If someone found your wife-" She growled back, and Daryl's glare burned into her but it didn't deter her, even as he got right into her face.

"Don't. That ain't remotely the same," Daryl shot back, rage burning through every vein, every organ, every muscle. But Beth knew she'd gotten to him, even if it was just a little bit.

"Killin' them ain't supposed to be fun!" She said, her own eyebrows coming into a glare and Daryl stepped even closer.

"What do ya want from me, girl?"

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anythin'! Like nothin', we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anythin' to you. It's bullshit!" Beth finally yelled back, frustration making tears build behind her eyes but that only seemed to rile Daryl up more, even if it had been toned down. Didn't give a shit? She really thought he didn't care? He'd damn near died for his people. He'd killed for his people and she thought he didn't give a shit?

"Is that what you think? Huh?" The only thing he could think as he heard himself were the words he'd said to his brother years ago, that was coming back to bite him in the ass. You really are our Daddy's son.

"That's what I know," Her words were instant, and Daryl could tell from her tone that they'd been building up for a while. But his mouth moved before his brain could fully process the thought.

"You don't know nothin'," He hissed, looking away for a second, as his voice wavered slightly.

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid," Hell, if that didn't make him stop. His chest heaved as she spoke, his body taking a moment to recover from the anger that had made him shake. Been a while since he'd been that pissed off. But those final words, made his eyes narrow again, just as they'd softened.

"I ain't afraid of nothin'," Daryl stated, leaning in again. Beth had a look in her eye, telling him she didn't believe him. And she was right. He was scared every damn day. Every single damn time he thinks he's the most scared he'll ever be, some new herd, some new asshole, some new loss takes its place.

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me," Daryl couldn't meet her eyes. He had been like her once. When he left for a hunting trip he never came back from. Then, he got stuck with his piece of shit older brother and became that asshole again. Then his brother was gone, and he had a new family. He wasn't who he had been with (Y/N), didn't know if he ever would be like that again, but it had been a start. Until the governor took that from him too "And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

Every time someone got close, they died. Or put at great risk, or went missing, or got bit.

"Too close, huh? Ya know all about that. Ya lost two boyfriends, ya can't even shed a tear. Yer whole family's gone, all ya can do is just go out lookin' for hooch like some dumb college bitch," It was a low blow, but he was so drunk, so angry, he was struggling to get his words out like they were getting stuck in his throat.

"And your wife is gone and you don't say shit! Your brother died and you closed off! At least I talk about the ones I've lost instead of pretendin' like nothin' happened or like they didn't exist!" She snapped back, and the second the words left her mouth, she looked like she wanted to take them right back. Daryl stopped right there, frozen like a deer in headlights before turning around. Beth tried to reach for him but he shrugged out of her touch.

"Y'ain't got the right," He huffed out, the last of his anger dissipating, and he felt that void opening up again. The one that haunted him anytime he thought about his wife for too long. His shoulders deflated, and his gaze fixed on the back of the shed they'd found. Beth was hovering behind him, he could feel it. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl-" Beth tried again, sympathy lacing her voice but he just shook her off once more. She watched as his shoulders tensed, and she prepared for him to rip into her again but instead, they started shaking lightly. Everything was crashing down on him all at once and he couldn't shake the thought of his girl alone, trying to survive on her own. Or his girl, eyes milky white and lifeless, feet dragging and body acting like dead weight as her pale, rotting skin peeled off.

"And ma girl? Maybe I could've done somethin'. Maybe I could've helped her," His voice cracked, the emotions finally crashing over him in a wave, and this time he didn't stop Beth as she wrapped her arms around his middle, head pressed against his back. He didn't stop the tears or the sobs that escaped him.

"I get why my dad stopped drinking," Beth's voice broke the peaceful silence that had fallen between them. Crickets and the wind brustling the trees were the only sounds as Daryl looked over to her, sat on the porch in the pale moonlight.

"Ya feel sick?" He asked, twirling his knife on the wooden panels beside him, glancing over dark eyelashes.

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad," She responded. Her hands were playing with the loose threads on her jeans, and she had this happy look in her eye. Too happy, but he didn't say anything. Not this time.

"Yer lucky yer a happy drunk," Daryl felt that stab of guilt again, as he thought back to the argument earlier. The one he could've dropped, but instead he blew it out of proportion and turned into Merle. Into his daddy.

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink," Beth gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised slightly, but there was a small smile on her face.

"Yeah, 'm a dick when 'm drunk," He stabbed his knife into the wood and he let out a small huff before reluctantly opening his mouth again "Merle had these biker friends. Real buff, stern assholes. Didn't give a shit 'bout nobody but themselves. One day, he dragged me along with 'em to this back alley bar. Real dodgy place. Was barely 10 and we were all wasted. Merle was high. There was this girl with her friend and the guys wouldn't stop runnin' their mouths. Especially Merle. Never knew when to quit. Turns out, girl had heard everythin' they'd been sayin' 'bout her and her friend. She comes stormin' over, face red, lookin' pissed as all hell and starts gettin' in this guys face. Merle decides it's a good idea to grab her ass, and she goes for him, punches him right in the eye. Gave him one hell of a shiner."

Beth let out a small giggle as she took a sip of her moonshine and Daryl's lips quirked up slightly. His fingers worked to spin his ring around again and again and she watched it with a glimmer of shock that still hadn't faded away.

"I tried gettin' between and she shoved me away. But one of Merle's buddies, he don't like that. So, he pulls out his gun and raises it over ma shoulder to her face, right here," He points to the gap between his eyebrows, watching as Beth's own eyebrows rose "And this bar goes dead silent. C'aint hear a damn thang, but she just glares back. His buddy starts threatenin' her, sayin' how he's gonna do all these things to her and she don't say anythin'. Just looks back at him. All that because she stood up for herself," Daryl couldn't help but smile at the memory, despite how much it had freaked him out at the time. Only time he didn't get pissed at someone for hitting his brother. Fool deserve it.

"How'd she get out?" Beth asked, leaning forward slightly like she was on the edge of her seat.

"Managed to get between 'em. Guy punched me in the gut. I puked. They all started laughin' and started patting her on the back. 'Balls of steel', Merle said to her. She thanked me for gettin' between them and asked how I was. Walked her and her friend back to her car. And I don't know if she was tipsy or what, but she asked ma name. Asked if we could have a new introduction 'nother day or somethin. You want to know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle... doing whatever he said we were gonna be doin' that day. I was nobody. Nothin'. Some redneck asshole and an even bigger asshole for a brother. Got better when I met her. (Y/N) made us better," Daryl's eyes flittered down to his ring this time, looking at the grime and dirt that accumulated and pulled it off to wipe it on his shirt.

"You miss him, don't you? I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoyin' and overprotective. And my dad. I thought- I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by people he loved. That's how unbelievably stupid I am," Tears had formed in Beth's eyes, but she laughed through them. But she couldn't shake that image of her Dad, the governor stood behind him.

"That's how it was supposed to be," He grumbled. Beth was naive, but she wasn't blind. She could tell he wasn't talking just about her dad. He was talking about the life he had with his wife, a life he could have had. The life he deserved to have. Subconsciously, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous that she never had something like that.

"I wish I could just... change," Beth responded after a pause, and Daryl's eyebrow raised, slightly confused.

"Ya did."

"Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now. Sounds like ya girl was too."

He didn't say anything, biting his cheek lightly as he slid his ring back on. It was his comfort, she was his comfort. Maybe she was still out there. Maybe.

Maybe she was dead in a ditch.

It still felt like a dream. He was still sure that if he gave himself a hard pinch she'd disappear right from his grasp. Everyone had dispersed thanks to Aaron and Carol's shepherding, but Daryl didn't miss the way (Y/N) watched after Carl and Judith, like she was scared something would happen. She didn't let go of him, not for another few minutes, that felt like seconds to him, and he would never complain. It didn't feel real.

There would be questions later, enough to bombard them back into hiding. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. She was here.

Eventually, Daryl managed to clear his head enough to pull her into the house his family had now evacuated out of. It felt alien, holding her again. Seeing her. Actually seeing her, not imagining her in some drunk or fear-induced frenzy. They were huddled together, in the corner Daryl had taken the night before. He couldn't let go, not now. There was something different about her. She'd changed. The apocalypse did that to you, he supposed but, this was different. There was guilt like she was hiding something from him. She'd done something, and he wanted to find out what it was.

"How the hell'd ya get here?" He asked, voice low and a grin rose on her face, which made his eyebrows furrow in confusion "What?"

"Ain't nothing. Just didn't think I'd hear your voice again," (Y/N) responded, her grin widening when he took her hand and started playing with her ring. "I was with mom when it started. Started travelling down to Georgia to find you and Merle. Met some people along the way."

She suddenly went quiet, her smile falling, and Daryl knew that look. Seen it on everyone's faces after camp; saw it on Carol, Beth, Maggie and Hershel's faces after the barn, Glenn and Maggie after the governor, Beth's after the prison; Rick, Carl and Michonne's the night with the claimers; everyone's after Terminus; Sasha and Gabriel after Bob and Tyreese. His, Maggie's and Glenn's after Beth.

"What happened?" If anyone else had walked in, they'd probably have never believed it was his voice. He didn't believe it. Merle would be giving him hell for it. Her eyes darted to his, and her grip on his hand tightened.

"There were this married couple, Andrew and Oliver, and their kid, Anna. Real sweet, curious. Never wanted to leave me and the other leader Kai alone. Some twins, Danica and Ben. Danica and Andrew were hotheads, reminded me of Merle, just less bigotted," They shared a chuckle at that. Daryl didn't need to say anything to her for her to know her brother-in-law was gone. She'd seen it on his face when she mentioned him earlier. After all this time, she could still read him like a book. "Kai was my best friend. Felt like a sibling. They were military, stopped me and mom from going into the city. We were gonna keep looking for you but Anna got sick. Really sick. For three weeks, we went out looking for medicine and she'd go through it in days."

Hell, he'd almost forgot about the disease that spread through the prison. Nearly killed Glenn. Awful as it seemed, it didn't that important anymore. Pretty much everyone that was sick died to the governor anyway. Didn't matter. Not really

"When she didn't get better, her dad's asked me to put her down. I was going to do it in the evening, in case she passed, but I decided to wait until morning. Died in her sleep. Turned quickly. We lost Andrew and Danica," Daryl squeezed her hand but she didn't respond. Her eyes were unfocused, but he saw the sadness flickering in them. The shame and guilt. That's why she was watching Carl and Judith earlier. "We were in the woods for a while. Me, mom, Andrew, Kai and Ben, lived that old Dixon lifestyle," She teased, in a poor attempt to lighten the mood. But he saw past it. She was holding something back to stop him from worrying.

"Then what?" She just shook her head, and Daryl pulled her in, tucking her head under his chin again. Not yet. He'd wait as long as she needed. They didn't need words for him to understand. (Y/N) let out a small sigh of contentment and Daryl resisted a smile. He'd lost hope in finding her. Thought he'd never get to hold her like this again. And before he knew it, he was telling her everything. But when he got to Terminus, she froze and pulled back.

"You were at Terminus?" (Y/N)'s voice was laced with concern and confusion, and it took Daryl half a second to connect the dots. His eyebrows rose into his hairline, which made (Y/N) laugh slightly."I was there for three days. Fuckers tried to kill me but I put up a fight. That freak Gareth locked me in a room so I didn't 'scare the newcomers'. An explosion and some walker's guts got me out."

"Ya gotta be shittin' me, right?" Daryl laughed, genuinely laughed, and he swore he'd never seen so much elation on his girl's face. "Carol set off that explosion, got us out."

(Y/N) leant her forehead on his shoulder, smiling at the ridiculousness of the situation. The whole time, he thought she was so far away, or that she was gone, or dead, or bitten but she was right fucking there at Terminus. If he'd paid more attention, maybe he could've found her. Fucking idiot.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Daryl asked, catching (Y/N)'s arm as she started to climb out of the sleeping bag they'd been sharing. It'd taken a while for Daryl to convince the group to let her stay with them. They didn't trust her, and he couldn't blame them, but he wasn't going to be separated from any of his family. Neither her nor them. Eventually, Rick had nodded, despite Sasha and Abraham (mostly - Rosita and Carl hadn't exactly been happy about it either).

"Aiden and Nicholas want to take Glenn, Tara and Noah on a dry run, I gotta go with them to make sure they don't do something dumb," (Y/N) replied, pulling on her jumper but Daryl narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Careful, (L/N), that's ma family yer talkin' 'bout," He shot back, sharper than he wanted. However, she was taking a dig at his family when she barely knew shit about them. She just chuckled and rolled her eyes, coming closer to press a kiss on his forehead.

"Not your family, dummy. Nicolas and Aiden. They both hate me because I called them careless. Among other things. And they are. They don't know anything about life out there. If these walls hadn't come up when they had, those boys would have died long ago. Almost everyone here would have," She replied. He watched her carefully, giving her a look that she couldn't recognise. He was still getting used to this new version of her. Trying to get to know her again. She wasn't that different, not really, but she was slightly colder towards others and seemed to have a shorter fuse where unbreakable patience used to be. Well, unbreakable unless you were Merle. Some undying rage never left her eyes. She was still her old self, but she'd changed. It made him wonder what she'd been through. What she wouldn't tell him the day before.

"Why'd ya stay if this place ain't secure?" Daryl asked, pulling her slightly closer. Then he saw it. That look flashed across her face. It was gone almost as soon as it came, but he'd caught it. Guilt was ripping through her, despite how much she hid it. Why was she guilty? What was she hiding?

"Why'd you?" (Y/N) responded quickly, and even with this new version of her, he still knew her well enough to know she was changing the topic. And she did too, as evident from her heavy sigh. "I had a promise to keep."

There was more to it than that, Daryl could see it so clearly it was practically slapping him in the face. But he knew pushing wouldn't get them anywhere.

"People here are weak. Carol and the kid think it too. Hell, I do. Glad yer goin' with 'em," He gave her a quick kiss, running his thumb over her ring. "Keep an eye on 'em for me."

"Of course," (Y/N) smiled back, and from the surprise on Deanna's face when she walked in to check on them, not that he'd cared enough to notice at first, it wasn't something that had happened often while she was here.

"And you keep yourself safe, ya hear?" Daryl demanded, and while it was firm, (Y/N) saw the glimmer of fear in his eye. Can't lose her again. The words went unspoken but she heard them. A hard squeeze of his hand and a kiss on the cheek, and she'd wandered out the door, Glenn, Tara and Noah trailing close behind.

Time seemed to drag out while they were gone. It'd been around an hour, and he knew it shouldn't be too much longer before they returned. It was only a dry run. He'd finally showered, if only for his girl's sake than anyone else's, and he couldn't stop pacing. Carol had tried to employ his help, but he shut her down. With no news on a job from Deanna, Daryl couldn't stop himself from getting lost in his thoughts and drowning in his worries. His girl had said that the boys were careless. What if that cost her? What if him asking her to protect his friend meant she did something stupid? What if she didn't come back? What if he lost her again? For good, this time?

His worries were cut in half when the creaking and scratching of the gate broke through the air and he immediately jogged from his place on the porch to the gates, seeing the group come back in. They all looked pissed, and none of them more than (Y/N). She was walking in front of Glenn almost protectively, and he just knew something had gone wrong.

"You three need new gigs, you're not ready for runs yet," Aiden snapped from behind, making the four turn on their heels. Daryl felt himself moving forward when Aiden got close to (Y/N) and started pointing "And I'm gonna talk to my mom about getting you a new job."

"Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards," Glenn shot back and (Y/N) gave him a grateful look. They set off again but were pulled back by Aiden grabbing both her and Glenn's arms.

"Hey, we've got a way of doing things around here," Aiden tried, making a poor attempt of establishing his authority, which deflated when she scoffed.

"Yeah, ones you don't tell me about apparently," She grumbled. There it was. That short fuse. That undying rage. Daryl slowed to a stop as more people started to gather at the noise. She looked over to him, telling him with a glance that he might have to step in if it got too far.

"You tied up walkers," Glenn shot back, and that set Aiden off. Nicolas bounced between each foot awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"It killed our friend!"Aiden shouted "Look, I'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

"Not when they put our people in danger," (Y/N) stepped closer, almost chest to chest with Aiden, and Daryl smirked slightly. That was his girl.

"If that's the case, we're just as screwed as your last run crew," Glenn agreed, putting a hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder to get her to back off. They shared a look, and she reluctantly took a step back. Glenn was trying to keep it peaceful, but he wasn't Aiden get away with this shit. Neither was (Y/N), except Daryl wasn't so sure about the peaceful part. Aiden shifted at Glenn's words, and Nicolas narrowed his eyes. Daryl took a step closer, shooting the latter man a warning glare.

"Say that again," Aiden stated, lightly shoving Glenn's chest. He brushed off the warning words of Noah and Tara, and both Glenn and Daryl could see that (Y/N) was barely holding her rage back. Glenn squeezed her shoulder lightly, clearly seeing it too. She was waiting for the right moment, but she was going to break any second. "C'mon tough guy."

Glenn just stared back at him, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, and the expression pissed Aiden off even more. (Y/N) had to bite back a laugh. "No one's impressed, man. Walk away."

Someone had clearly alerted Deanna to the situation because she came running out, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes slightly at the woman. It was pretty damn clear she didn't like her. However, her expression softened slightly, and some of her anger dissipated when she saw Enid join the newly formed crowd, with Carl not far behind her.

"Aiden, what's going on?" Deanna asked, running over. Daryl saw Rick slowly making his way over with Michonne, and they were both observing too. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut and it felt stifling.

"These two have got a problem with the way we do things. Why did you let these people in? Why didn't you kick her out?" Daryl's eyes furrowed, and his glare settled. This asshole was really trying to get them thrown out? After the shit he'd just heard?

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn immediately answered and he barely had time to dodge as Aiden swung for him, while Deanna shouted his name. However, (Y/N) immediately shot into action. The fury she'd been suppressing exploded out all at once, and she didn't hesitate to land a punch ride to Aiden's nose. She'd hit him with enough force to cause his nose to bleed, and Daryl felt a twisted sense of pride in his stomach.

"(Y/N)!" Enid yelled, and (Y/N) looked over to her in panic, scared someone had lunged for her. But while she was distracted, Nicolas had managed to get a hit in on her side, making her fall backwards slightly. Her eyes darkened and she went to attack him, but two arms latched around her waist and yanked her away from the fight. At some point, Aaron had come running towards the commotion and had snuck up behind her. He was trying to talk to her, to calm her down but she only saw red.

However, while the people had been distracted with (Y/N), apparently well-acquainted with her outbursts, no one had thought to stop Daryl. The second, Aiden lunged for Glenn, he was running at them, anger boiling inside of him, but then Nicolas dared to lay a hand on his girl and he felt like that day in the woods with Beth. When he couldn't stop his anger. It just flowed through him, and soon Nicolas had been pinned to the floor with Daryl's arm to his neck. Rick sprinted to them, shouting at him, but Daryl had tuned him out, eyes focusing on the son of a bitch below him. He felt arms yanking him away and he growled something (he couldn't even remember what he was so damn pissed) to, who he assumed was, Rick. Aiden stood up and went to walk towards (Y/N), which made her struggle slightly in Aaron's hold, until Michonne stepped in front, pushing him back.

"Back the fuck up, asshole," (Y/n) shouted, pulling in Aaron's arms, and Michonne narrowed her eyes at Aiden.

"You want to end up on your ass again?"She warned, staring him down until he backed up. After another minute, Rick finally made Daryl let up and Rick pushed him away slightly just for good measure. He was practically vibrating with anger, but he backed away, picking up his crossbow before walking to his girl. Aaron let her go hesitantly, and Daryl wrapped an arm around her waist, both to ground himself and to prevent her from going anywhere. He could feel the heat radiating over, and how pissed off she still was as she and Aiden glared at each other. Deanna stared at her for a minute, a look filled with scorn that nearly set Daryl off again. Aiden had taken the shot first, she couldn't blame his girl for shit.

"I want everyone to hear me, okay? Rick and his people are part of this community now and always as equals. Understood?"She shot a pointed look to her son, who looked away in shame as he wiped his nose, getting blood on the back of his hand. Daryl hid a smirk, despite the anger still stirring in his stomach. "Everyone turn in your weapons. Then you two come talk to me."

Deanna pulled Rick and Michonne to one side, and the pair watched for a second, as Glenn walked off with Maggie. Then, Daryl turned his girl to look at him, inspecting every inch of her to make sure she wasn't badly injured.

"Y'alrigh'?" Daryl questioned softly, placing one hand on her cheeks, which she leant into affectionately. It made his stomach do flips, and he was sure he was blushing but if he was, she didn't say anything. Made him feel like a damn teenager again. She placed her hand over his, touching his ring with a small reassuring smile.

"I'm all good, Dixon. Might have a bruise on my ribs, but I'll live," She replied and Daryl turned to look at Nicolas with a dark look. They were so caught up in themselves that they didn't notice Aaron watching them with a curious look. He was smiling softly. He hadn't been able to get much out of his friend when talking about her husband. She'd let a little slip when she, him and Eric got drunk during her first week, but she'd never told them his name, or anything deep. If she had, maybe he would've been able to reunite them sooner.

Everyone dispersed, with Aiden and Nicolas following Deanna back to her house. (Y/N) watched after them, glaring holes into the back of their heads.

"(Y/N, I know you're pissed off, but you have to quit the fighting. Deanna's going to kick you out if you aren't careful," Aaron warned, folding his arms over his chest, and Daryl's head snapped over furiously. However, (Y/N) turned to him with a face that told him she'd heard this a million times before.

"Fucker went for Glenn first. She just defended him," Daryl murmured and Aaron let out a deep sigh. Guess it wasn't just (Y/N) he had to watch out for now.

The next day, Daryl and (Y/N) had been moved into their own house, and while she was hesitant to leave Eric and Aaron, neither she nor Daryl could deny how nice it was to have their own privacy. It almost felt like life before the apocalypse. Well, besides the fact that this house was worth more than they ever could have afforded before the world went to shit. And they were missing a certain loud-mouthed idiot. Enid also technically lived there, but she was always in and out. One thing both he and his girl knew, was that he was suffocating in here. He hated not being out there. So when she suggested he go hunting, he was out of the door quicker than she could blink. He felt guilty leaving her behind, but she could manage her own, and she had her own jobs to do. Besides, Enid could keep her company. She'd be fine.

The bushes rustling made his crossbow shoot up. Daryl narrowed his eyes, trying to pick out if it was a person, walker or animal, but he quickly realised it was a human and his guard went up tenfold.

"Come out! Now!"He snarled, placing his finger on the trigger as the person began to emerge. Aaron. Son a bitch scared the shit out of him. Not that he'd admit it. He lowered his crossbow with a huff upon seeing the recruiters alarmed face. "Ain't ya supposed to be in Alexandria with Eric?"

"(Y/N)'s watching over him. You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?" Daryl just grunted in response and Aaron studied him, as he checked the string of the crossbow. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He could see it in the way he acted with (Y/N) alone, and that wasn't even beginning on the rest of his family "Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl snapped back. What was with this guy? Didn't he know when to stop prying? Wasn't none of his business. Aaron didn't miss the way he squinted at him, or how his shoulders squared defensively.

"That how you feel about your people? About (Y/N)?" Aaron questioned. Daryl tensed slightly before continuing forward into the woods.

"Why ya following me?" Daryl snapped. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've been shouting by now. But Aaron was (Y/N)'s friend. He could talk about her like that. He meant no ill will. Others don't get the right. They didn't know her. They just expected the worst because he was some redneck. Expected her to be the same.

She was so much more.

"You ride horses?"Aaron asked, trying to lighten the situation. He'd really hoped he could save that horse. The kids had been asking him for weeks. At least he wasn't suffering anymore.

"I ride bikes," Daryl responded shortly. Aaron was kind, and he could see how his girl was friends with him. Why she trusted him. They'd taken care of her. Seen that pretty clearly yesterday with Aiden and Nicolas and stopping her from killing them. But everything felt too much still. He wasn't used to being somewhere like this. Even before everything. Even with his girl starting to bring him to the right path. Everything was just overwhelming. He knew Aaron was trying to help, to get to know him, but whether that was out of kindness or to stay on the good side of his girl, he still hadn't figured it out.

"I take it you don't mean 10-speeds," When Daryl didn't say anything, Aaron let out a small sigh. "I know you're feeling like an outsider. (Y/N) does too, even if she tries to deny it. It's not your fault, you know. Eric and I, we're still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We've heard our fair share of well-meaning, but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women. And you should hear how they talk about (Y/N) sometimes. People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain. They're scared of you and me for different reasons. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna's party tonight."

By that point, they'd both stopped. Daryl looked back at Aaron with disbelieving eyes. Like hell was he going to some dumb as shit party. People'd stare, whisper, ask questions. They did little else when he was around, normally.

" I got nothing to prove. I met a lot of bad people out here doing a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothin'," His eyes flashed back to Terminus. Glenn's terrified eyes. The rage in Rick's eyes. Carl's trembling in the storage container. His girl, who'd been so damn close that if he'd stopped for a second, he would have found her.

"Yeah, they were," Aaron replied, smiling at him slightly before walking past him.

"Yer goin'?" Daryl raised his eyebrows, and (Y/N) turned to smile at him. She didn't look herself. Actually no, she looked exactly like herself. But the old her. This wasn't the new, hardened, mildly terrifying new (Y/N). It felt alien. Almost wrong. But hell if she didn't look good, even if she was dressed up for a dumb ass party.

"I want to get to know your family. Besides, I need to prove a point to Deanna and her shithead sons. You sure you won't come?" She trailed over to him and admired him in the last rays of the sunset. He didn't want her to go. Didn't want her near Aiden, Nicolas or Deanna's other son, who he had the pleasure of not yet meeting. He'd only just gotten her back, and everyone wanted a piece of her. It was starting to piss him off.

Daryl just shook his head, moving some stray pieces of hair out of his eyes at the same time. "Naw. Maybe later."

(Y/N) nodded, before taking his hand, using the other to reach up and play with the ends of his hair. He squeezed her hand, a silent demand of her to stay.

"Never thought I'd see you with long hair, Dixon," She said absentmindedly and he snorted quietly. Sometimes it slipped his mind that the last time she'd seen him, he'd looked almost completely different.

"Watch yourself, (L/N)," He shot back, but there was no venom. Just a tender look in his eyes that was reserved for only her. She let out a quiet laugh and brought their joint hands up to kiss the back of his hand before letting go. Merle was right, the asshole. She did make him soft.

He watched the party from a distance, glancing through the window. Trying to get a look, trying to find the courage to go in. His girl or not, the idea of going in there made his skin crawl. Daryl wasn't a people person, it was pretty damn clear. He wished she'd stayed at home with him, but it did make his heart ache slightly knowing she was only going to try and connect with his family. She didn't get pissy about the fact he called them family, didn't judge, didn't expect them to trust her just because they were married. Just tried to connect with them

He let out a heavy sigh, cursing under his breath and turned around, beginning to head back home. Hell, he'd started calling it home now. Maybe it was being with her again, made him feel at home. Maybe he was getting used to this place. Not damn likely. As he was walking past Aaron and Eric's house, (Y/N)'s old home, the light on the porch switched on, and Aaron walked outside

"Daryl. Hey," Aaron greeted, and Daryl resisted a sigh. Sure, he was nice but it was becoming clearer and clearer that this was about him trying to get to know him for (Y/N). But thinking about it, that was exactly what his girl was doing with his family. Goddamn it.

"Thought you were going to that party over there," Daryl responded, leaning against the fence.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle, thank God," Aaron smiled, looking relieved and Daryl furrowed his eyebrows

"Why the hell did you tell me to go, then?"He snapped, feeling a little guilty by the outburst until he saw the amused (but oddly proud?) look the other man was giving him.

"I said try. You did. It's a thought that counts thing," How long had this guy spent with (Y/N)? Starting to sound just like her.

"All right," Daryl mumbled, pushing off from the fence to walk away until Aaron's voice stopped him again.

"Hey, come in. Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti," Aaron offered. Daryl turned to face him, sure he'd see a teasing look on his face. Expecting it to be a joke. But there was a hopeful look on Aaron's face along with a small grin. Yeah, he was starting to see why (Y/N) liked him so much. He hesitated, biting his lip nervously for a second, before walking back to the house. Aaron's grin widened, but Daryl pretended like he hadn't seen anything.

Apart from a greeting from Eric, the three men mostly sat in silence, digging into the spaghetti. Daryl knew he should probably be more aware of how he was eating, he was slurping and he probably looked like a pig (if (Y/N) was there she'd be giving him hell for it), but he'd stopped caring. And while Aaron and Eric shared an occasional muffled laugh, they didn't seem too bothered. Daryl couldn't help but notice the empty two settings on the remaining chairs, and apparently, Eric had followed his gaze.

"We're still getting used to (Y/N) being gone. Enid too. She didn't live with us, but she stayed here a lot because of (Y/N). Guess we still haven't gotten out of the habit of setting their seats," Eric joked lightly, and Daryl made a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Mmm, when you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something," Eric seemed oblivious to the pointed looks Aaron was giving him, and the confused one that Daryl seemed to have etched onto his face. Eric was more bubbly than Aaron, more talkative, but still sweet. He didn't expect responses from Daryl, happy to just talk away. Maybe (Y/N)'s friends weren't too bad " I really think she just wants something to talk about, so... if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to..."

Finally, Eric looked over to his husband, seeing him shaking his head and his words died on his tongue. Looking awkwardly between Daryl and Aaron before settling on his pasta, a small apologetic smile on his face

"I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?" As if she'd heard Eric's silent plea to be rescued from the mild embarrassment of the situation, the sound of the door opening made Aaron and Daryl shoot up until they heard (Y/N)'s voice following.

"Aaron? Eric? You home?" She called, sounding tired, and Aaron let out a relieved sigh, before calling her into their dining room. Daryl couldn't help but smile as she walked in. It still felt like she wasn't real. Like she'd disappear any day and he'd wake up in that barn, or on the road, starving and dehydrated. She grinned back at him, but she didn't miss the teasing wink Eric gave her. "Hey, Dixon. What're you doing here?"

"We invited him for the infamous killer spaghetti," Eric grinned at her, nudging her hip with his shoulder as she walked to stand between his seat and Daryl. Instinctively, Daryl took her hand, and she bit back a child-like grin. Aaron gave her a look, one he couldn't recognise but she clearly did as she glared back at him playfully.

"You told him yet?" She asked, turning slightly to look at Aaron properly, nodding her head towards Daryl slightly. Daryl's confusion only furthered. Why did everyone seem to know what was going on except him? Hell, he was willing to bet if Enid was here too then she'd probably know.

"Was just about to, but someone nearly let the cat out of the bag," Eric looked away guiltily, but it was obvious he was forcing back a chuckle.

"Tell me what?" Daryl finally spoke up, and he didn't miss the way her hand tightened around his. Her grin turned slightly mischievous as Aaron started leading them towards their garage. Aaron opened the door and (Y/N) squeezed Daryl's hand again (and if she saw his cheeks starting to go pink, she didn't say anything) while her friend flicked the light on.

The garage was stuffed with spare parts and something that looked suspiciously like a motorbike beneath a piece of huge sheet. (Y/N) let go of his hand, opting instead to lean in the doorway, smiling softly at the excitement that flickered in her husband's eyes, even if his face stayed stoic. It'd been so damn long since he'd seen something like this, and while it reminded him a little too much of Merle's biker buddies, this also felt like home. He felt like a kid in a candy store. Aaron and (Y/N) shared a knowing look behind Daryl's back

"When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts and equipment. Whoever lived here built them," Aaron explained, as Daryl started picking up pieces, admiring them and putting them down again.

"It's a lot of parts for one bike," Daryl stated, trying to hide how happy he was, and he could practically hear (Y/N) rolling her eyes

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. (Y/N) tried to figure it out, but it wasn't her area of expertise," There was a teasing tone in his voice at the last sentence and Daryl heard his girl mumble something along the lines of 'shut up. "I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it. And the thing is, you're going to need a bike."

"Why?"Daryl pulled back the sheet and saw the skeleton of a bike, with a box of tools next to it.

"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you. I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore," Aaron replied. Daryl understood that, probably better than most people in this community. (Y/N) let out a hum of agreement, and Daryl looked over as she turned to glance back into the house. She was protective of her loved ones. Always had been, and he was really starting to realise just how much Aaron and Eric meant to her.

"You want me risking mine, right?"Daryl questioned, sounding sharper than he wanted, but Aaron could tell he meant no harm by it.

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing. You're good out there. But you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you. And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person, "Hell, he really had spent too much time with his girl. Daryl bit his lip in thought, but he already knew his mind was made up. Being in here all the time was killing him. Even with his girl here, he knew he couldn't stay here for long without getting antsy.

"I got nothing else to do. Thanks. I'll get you some rabbits," Aaron let out a loud laugh at that, patting Daryl's shoulder as he stepped past him, back to his girl in the doorway. She was smiling, asking him silently how he was feeling. He just gave her a tiny smile, and clearly, that was enough for her, as she wrapped her arm around his side.

Daryl couldn't help but notice how close (Y/N) had suddenly gotten with Glenn, Rick, Tara and Maggie. He noticed the way the rest of his family seemed a little more at ease with her, not exactly trusting her yet, but clearly getting on that track. Carl still wasn't sure about her, but Daryl didn't miss how he'd come and actually started conversations with her a few times, instead of avoiding her completely. Part of him was suspicious that it had something to do with his obvious crush on Enid. And while it made his heart warm that she was starting to become integrated with his family, there was always someone whisking her away now. He just wanted to spend some damn time with his wife, but he had to go out with Aaron, and she was going on another run.

And every damn thing that could have gone wrong absolutely did. It'd been a god damn trap, and now he was trapped in a car, surrounded by fuck knows how many walkers with his wife best friend. And the walkers just kept coming, pouring out of the trucks, banging on the window. How fucking long until that glass shattered and they were made into walker meat? But despite the hell going on around him, he couldn't stop a chuckle escaping his lips. It was fucking ironic. Aaron gave him a bewildered look.

"I came out here to not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?" Daryl explained, looking over at Aaron, who still had that look, but had a small, almost sad, smile on his lips.

"You were trying," Aaron said, and Daryl shook his head lightly. Wasn't exactly a choice. There were the kids, his friends, his family. Then (Y/N) got added into the mix, and that was it.

"I had to," He shot back, eyes watching the walkers that were gnashing their teeth outside the window.

"No, you didn't. Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own to the barn. Storm hit and you lead your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back," Aaron had this gentle look, and he went quiet, thinking for a second. When he spoke again his voice was thick "You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in the poncho. I shouldn't have given up. You didn't."

Daryl went silent, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. He'd given up. On his girl. Given up on her, lost hope started thinking she was dead. And look at what happened.

"I didn't, because I gave up before," It didn't take a genius to figure out what, or rather who he was talking about "Hadn't seen her in two years. Thought she was dead. Found 'er. Ain't givin' up this time. I'll go. I'll lead 'em out. You make a break for the fence."

God, she was going to kill him for this.

Aaron's head snapped over, the beginning of tears in his eyes quickly disappearing as he processed Daryl's words. "No, no, no. This was my fault."

"Wasn't a question. And this ain't yer decision. It ain't nobody's fault. Just let me finish my smoke first. Promise you'll look after ma girl, 'right?" Daryl brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a draw. He ignored Aaron' stare, his leg bouncing lightly. This'd destroy her. But, she had people to look after. And people would look after her for him. His family would be there, Aaron, Eric, Enid. She'd forget about him after a while.

"No," Aaron said sternly, and Daryl was almost taken back by the tone. Never heard him talk like that. "You don't draw them away. We fight. We go for the fence. We do it together, alright? Whether we make it or not. We do it together. We have to."

Daryl fell back into that silence, biting his lip in thought. (Y/N) would probably never forgive him if he let Aaron die. But she'd never forgive Aaron if he did. Fuck. Shit.

"Alright. You ready?" Daryl took one last drag before extinguishing the cigarette and picking up his knife instead. Hell, he couldn't believe he was agreeing to this. Sorry (L/N) "We'll go on three. One, two-"

But three never came as one of the walkers outside's guts spilt on Aaron's window, making them both freeze and exchange a puzzled look. There was no gunshot. The dead didn't kill their own. His door was suddenly yanked open, making Aaron scuttle back and lean on Daryl slightly, before he saw a guy standing there, holding a badass staff. He climbed out, followed immediately by Daryl. Everything was a blur of guts, blood and aching muscles until they got back to the gate and closed it. He was pretty sure he was just running on adrenaline at this point

"Hey, Daryl?" Aaron said breathlessly and Daryl looked over to see him smiling "Take care of her your damn self."

They got back just in time to see all hell had broken loose. The sound of shouting and screaming greeted them as Spencer let them through the gate, and Aaron had gone sprinting ahead, followed soon by Daryl and Morgan. Daryl's heart was pounding, worried (Y/N) was in the middle of it. Shit, shit, shit, shit. (Y/N) and Abraham were holding Pete down as he squirmed and glared up at them. And there on the floor, Deanna was crying, begging while she pressed against the slice on Reg's neck. Alexandrian's watched in terror, and horror as he choked on his own blood, and Daryl didn't miss the look in (Y/N)'s eyes, beneath all the fear and rage. A look he knew too well. She was reliving something. He only wished he knew what. It was then Daryl noticed Michonne's bloody katana on the floor, where Michonne herself looked at it with disgust. Rick was stood beside Abraham and (Y/N), watching Deanna with pity, but waiting for her instruction as Reg ultimately stopped moving. The air was silent, still, and he could see Aaron bouncing slightly from foot to foot, desperate to check up on his husband as Morgan watched with disdain.

One bullet, and it was done, blood splattered on (Y/N) and Abraham's faces. But she didn't even flinch. Just stared blankly. When they got back to their house, Enid, who'd allegedly been told to stay in the house but snuck out (in Enid like fashion) was wrapped under (Y/N)'s arm. She looked scared still, and Daryl had tried to comfort her, even if it hadn't been much, until (Y/N) had been relieved from the situation and took over. She was like a mini carbon copy of his girl, with the addition of teen angst, but she was easy to talk to (even when she was traumatised). His girl still had that blank look, had it since Rick pulled that trigger, and somehow that scared him more. She ushered Enid to her room, and Daryl knew she would either leave within a few minutes, or she wouldn't move until morning. But Enid didn't protest, just gave (Y/N) a quick hug and rushed upstairs.

His girl was still silent, as they reached their room, as they started changing into their pyjamas, as she went off to brush her teeth and wash the blood off her face, as they climbed into bed. It wasn't until Daryl reached out to touch her and she flinched back, did he attempt to break the silence.

"(Y/N)," He mumbled, and she raised her eyebrows to show she was listening but didn't meet his eyes. His stomach was in a knot, worry, nerves and interest as he watched her. "Hey, look at me."

It took her a minute, but reluctantly, she dragged her eyes up to meet his and he saw it. Guilt, anxiety and trauma all wrapped in one.

"Talk to me," Was all he said, and that was all it took. It was spilling out of her before she could stop it, and her hand found him desperately.

"After Anna, Ben, Andrew, Kai, Mom and I were chased out. Moved camp every day. Didn't know where we were going, just kept moving. One night, we were distracted. Ben was talking about smoke or something, and Kai started sayin' how we should go towards Washington. Said it was one of the few places that might have civilisation. We let out guard down," (Y/N) hesitated again, and Daryl squeezed her hand tightly, prompting her to continue. Every word she spoke, the sadder her eyes grew. The guilt kept building and building, and Daryl felt his own pit of dread in his stomach. She was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. "Some assholes come out of the woods, demand our supplies. I said no and they... they shot Kai. Then Ben and Andrew. Started going through our stuff, held me back as they murdered my family. Then they grabbed mom and-"

Daryl didn't hesitate in pulling her in when her voice hitched and she stopped again. He held her so tight, he was almost certain it was hurting, but she didn't voice any complaints. She just curled into him before continuing.

"Those bastards slit her throat. I had to put her down when she turned. Left me in the middle of the woods. When Reg... I just saw mom. It was like I was back there, reliving again and again on repeat. And I can't help but think that if I'd stepped forward, maybe Reg would be alive," She whispered, fingers clutching onto the sleep shirt he wore. He shook his head, placing a kiss on her hair.

"And you'd be dead. Ain't yer fault. None of it. Not yer ma and yer family. Not Reg. Weren't nothin' you coulda done. Ya cain't blame yerself for it," Daryl said, and while his tone was gentle, the words were firm but they seemed to do nothing to ease her, she just held on tighter. "I know that ain't everythin'. What happened?"

"We lost Noah. He was right there. We had him, and then he was just gone. Glenn and I, we held onto him so hard, but the walkers they- they got him. Pushed him against the glass. We had to watch-" It was then Daryl felt her pull back and she adjusted so her arms were wrapped around him, tucked under his chin again when he pulled her close.

"I'm sorry," He didn't know what else to say. Noah was gone. That kid was something else, annoying sometimes, sure, but he brought this hopeful light to the group, even when they were damn near dying on the road. He found his brain starting to ache and a weird feeling in his chest. Daryl was well acquainted with loss, everyone was now, but it never got any easier. Not when the losses kept coming, and to the people who deserved them the least. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it must have been to watch. What it was like for her. He didn't want to. The thought alone was enough to give him nightmares. So he just held her tightly, even as he felt a wet patch seeping through his sleep shirt. Even as she shook. Even as she drifted off, exhausted and hurting, and he laid awake for hours after. He couldn't make it okay, even if he wanted to. And hell he really did. He couldn't bring Noah back, couldn't wipe the memory from her or Glenn's mind.

The only thing he could do was be there for her, comfort her, help her out of that place whenever she went there. However, the only thing he could do, right at that moment, was hold her and not let go.

TAGS: OPEN

Tags (for this series): @graniairish @fuseburner @gloomystorm @bxxbxy @browneyes528 @hoemadegrace @reichelhache

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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Oblivious Part 2 // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Hey guys, PLEASE TAKE TIME TO READ THIS!!! I feel like I’ve taken on a series too early, I wrote Part 2 a long time ago but never got around to finishing it, so it didn’t end with what I wanted it to, but it’ll all work out in the end. But please be open-minded, I know it’s not my best work by any means, but I think it’s quite sweet in some moments. The juicy bits are yet to come. I’m sorry for such a long wait. Truth be told, I’ve been experiencing some writer’s block and I really just wanted to get SOMETHING out to you guys. Thank you for your patience!

Summary: Draco and Y/N talk about what happened at Hogsmeade and after a tragic event, Draco finally comes clean.

Warning(s): SPOILERS! Violence, swearing(I can’t remember if there is or not tbh)

Word Count: 4k

Part 1

Draco exhaled heavily as he gently stroked his girlfriend’s temple. He was trying to get her to fall asleep after the long day she’d just had. However, he knew first hand how uncomfortable the Hospital Wing’s beds were. He didn’t expect her to find slumber easily. Besides, he could practically see the gears turning in her head as she gazed up at him. Her expression was one of befuddlement.

Madam Pomfrey had already fixed her up, but she had requested for Y/N to stay the night so that she’d be able to reassess her ankle the next morning. Draco knew he should’ve taken this valuable time where Y/N would be, essentially, out of commission, to work on the cabinet. Alas, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the chair Madam Pomfrey had provided him with.

Draco fought a smile from creeping onto his lips as he ran his eyes over Y/N’s frame. He loved her all the time, but it was always a special treat whenever he got to see her in between consciousness and sleep. She’d curl up into a ball, make herself appear small. Every time she talked, it was as if she were drunk; her words would come out muffled or slurred, and none of her sentences would make sense. It was a rather endearing sight to behold. But Y/N wasn’t her usual sleepy self tonight; she was wide awake and studying Draco’s face intently.

“Why didn’t you take me over there to help?” she asked him, point-blank.

Draco let out another sigh and ran his hand through his hair. Boy, oh boy, was his girlfriend quite the stubborn young woman. Although, perhaps that made sense as she was a Gryffindor after all. Part of him wanted to spill his guts to her. How good would it feel to finally tell someone what he’s been going through? He parted his lips to spill his guts but thought better of it at the last moment.

Draco opened his mouth again. “I thought it was dangerous; I didn’t want you to get hurt any further than you already were. That’s all,” he said, providing her with yet another false answer. The unimpressed look on her face signaled to Draco that she didn’t buy it.

“Why were you in such a rush to leave? Maybe we could’ve helped her, Draco.”

Draco clenched his fists. He really needed to get better at lying. But perhaps he was performing poorly due to the fact he was lying to Y/N, the girl he loved so dearly. Nevertheless, anger began to swell in his chest. “I already told you, it looked dangerous,” he snapped. Y/N didn’t move a muscle; she was used to Draco’s sudden mood swings. Instead, she just stared at him, seemingly awaiting what he would do next.

Draco contemplated his next words heavily. Would mentioning Voldemort be too much? Maybe it would frighten Y/N. He certainly didn’t want to keep the girl awake any longer than she’d already been, but perhaps it would convince her that Draco had genuinely been scared earlier that day. He indeed had been afraid… afraid of his secret being revealed.

“Look, The Dark Lord is back, we can’t be-”

“Oh, so now you believe, Harry?” Y/N asked condescendingly.

“Would you shut it? Bloody hell, this isn’t about Potter,” Draco said while throwing his hands into the air. “This is about your safety. Our safety. Why don’t you understand that?” Irritation was visible in his eyes.

“You’re a liar,” Y/N said while sitting up in her bed, “A liar. Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Draco’s frustration dissipated instantly. “Love, I’m sorry I—”

“Get. Out,” Y/N said firmly. Her teeth were gritted, and her nostrils were flared. She was sick and tired of her boyfriend lying to her face. She gave him so many chances to come clean, and yet he didn’t; this hurt her deeply. He studied her face for a few moments, then realized she was dead serious. So he reluctantly got to his feet and gave her one last look before turning on his heel and walking away. When he left the room, he began to pace back and forth outside the doors. He didn’t want to leave. He was stroking his chin in deep thoughts when his strides were interrupted by a deep, slow voice calling his name.

“Draco. Don’t you have... better things... to be doing at this hour?”

He looked up from his feet to see Professor Snape glaring at him. Draco scowled at him. He knew what the greasy-haired man was implying. “I’m taking care of it,” he replied.

“Is that so? Then you must have successfully repaired it, yes?”

Draco averted his eyes. Truthfully, he’d made progress on the vanishing cabinet, but nothing too promising. He’d been able to get an apple to and from the Room of Requirement and Borgin and Burkes. But when he sent a bird through it, it hadn’t come back alive. “Not quite, but I’m getting closer. I just need more time.”

Snape’s frowning expression remained the same. “Well, I suggest you focus more on fixing it rather than wasting time on such silly attempts. The Headmaster isn’t a fool, unlike you. He would never have been stupid enough to touch that necklace.”

Draco turned his head slightly away from Snape. He knew he was right. Dumbledore was an intelligent wizard; he likely wouldn’t have been fooled by the cursed necklace. But Draco thought it had been worth a shot. It was clear now that it had most certainly not been worth it.

“Focus on the task at hand. Fix the cabinet. If you don’t, I’ll be stepping in,” Snape said in a stern tone. Draco still couldn’t bring himself to look at him, so the professor walked away, leaving the blonde boy to his jumbled thoughts.

After a long couple of minutes, Draco decided that Snape was right. He needed to concentrate on the cabinet. There was no time to spend worrying about what lie to tell his girlfriend next; The Dark Lord had chosen him. And he could not fail him.

Draco straightened his spine and readjusted his suit jacket. And then he was off to the Room of Requirement.

--------------

Y/N didn’t make an effort to find Draco the next morning. Although, she had expected him to be outside the Hospital Wing when she exited. But he was nowhere to be seen. Her first thought was that she was too harsh with him. Then she remembered that he’d been blatantly lying to her for weeks now. She needed to be blunt with him last night. He needed to understand that she was upset and wouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt anymore.

Y/N had hardly gotten any sleep. Her mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Katie Bell. What the hell had cursed her yesterday? And why was Draco so eager to flee the scene once he saw her shoot into the sky? Y/N didn’t want to believe her own suspicions, but perhaps Draco had had something to do with it. It was the only logical answer she could think of. And while she didn’t doubt Draco cared for her safety, she knew that wasn’t the real reason he ran off with her in his arms.

Suddenly, she missed being in those arms. Draco hadn’t been the same boy she fell in love with in a long time. He was so gloomy, the bags under his eyes were still prominent. And as of late, he’d been becoming more and more secretive. None of this sat well with Y/N. Not at all.

When she arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, she located her boyfriend straight away. He was at their usual spot, picking at some scrambled eggs. She sighed and walked over to him and sat down gently. Not a single word flew from his chapped lips.

“I thought you would’ve been waiting for me outside the Hospital Wing,” Y/N stated while she cut into a loaf of bread. “Did something happen?” she questioned, keeping her tone light and nonaccusatory. Draco scoffed. “Figured you wouldn’t want to see me,” he said in a passive-aggressive tone.

“Don’t start that shit, Draco. I’m trying to be nice even though you’ve been lying to my face for how long now? Too long. We’re in a relationship, and relationships don’t work when someone consistently lies. So unless you want to lose me,” Draco’s head whipped towards her like lightning, her words struck fear into his heart, “I’d come clean.”

Draco masked his fear with a hearty laugh. “Yeah, right. You wouldn’t.”

“Honestly, Draco, at this point, I would. I’m sick of this rubbish. Why are you suddenly so afraid to tell me stuff? You were never apprehensive about confiding in me until now. I know something has happened, Draco. It’s so blatantly bothering you. Let me take some of the weight off your shoulders—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing has happened. I’m fine, alright? Can we just stop talking about all this nonsense?” Draco asked. His fists were clenched tightly on top of the table. He was desperately trying to control his raging emotions.

Y/N couldn’t believe he was still trying to keep secrets, but she decided to give him one more chance. “What is going on?” she asked while reaching out to put her hand on his left arm, trying to comfort him. But once her fingertips had brushed his sleeve, he yanked himself away from her aggressively.

“Don’t touch me,” he said quickly, getting to his feet. Y/N felt her heart clench. She knew she’d struck some kind of nerve. But she made no move to stand up; she only watched as Draco turned to leave. Except, he didn’t. He was frozen in place. Y/N curiously followed his gaze to see Harry talking to Katie Bell. She threw one leg over the bench, wanting to see if she could join the conversation. However, her plans were interrupted when suddenly, Draco stumbled backward and began to flee the Great Hall. Harry didn’t wait a beat; he chased after the Slytherin.

Y/N stuffed a piece of toast in her mouth, quickly clambered to her feet, and rushed after the boys. She momentarily got caught in a hoard of people who were flowing into the Great Hall, but when she was able to weave through them, she caught sight of Harry running up the stairs. The Gryffindor knew it would be best to keep a distance behind Harry, as to remain undetected.

She waited until Harry had reached the top step, then she climbed up after him. At the peak of the concrete stairs, Y/N saw Harry turn a corner. So she followed after him, but when she too rounded the corner, she pressed herself against the wall and watched silently as Harry nearly ran down the hallway. Why the hell was Harry even chasing Draco anyway?

Y/N knew there was no time to waste. When Harry was out of sight, she scurried off after him. However, while she was running, Peeves, the naughty school poltergeist, appeared in front of her, a mischievous smile plastered to his face.

“Where you off to?” he asked in a playful tone as he floated in front of her.

“Peeves, not now,” Y/N said irritatedly and out of breath. Harry was getting farther and farther away by the second.

“I have a riddle, I do. I have a riddle for you,” he said. His voice was high pitched and squeaky. It sounded a bit like nails on a chalkboard to Y/N. She ran her hand through her hair and said, “Peeves, fuck off,” as she walked straight through the ghost. He was not happy about this, and he let that be known to the entire school by letting out an ear-splitting screech. Y/N groaned and whipped out her wand. “Silencio!” she said while forcefully waving her wand towards the poltergeist. He was instantly rendered speechless by her spell. Y/N smiled and ran off; she knew she’d pay for that one later.

When she caught up to where she’d last seen Harry, all she found was an empty hallway. She took a moment to calm her erratic breathing and stood still. After a few moments, she heard a loud crack and then little clangs. They sounded like glass crashing to the floor. Her stomach churned at the thought of what could be going on. She ran down the corridor, trying to listen for more noises that would lead her to where the boys were. Upon hearing another crash, she realized they were in the bathroom. Y/N felt adrenaline rush through her body. Her head was pulsing as her heart was working diligently to pump blood. “Please let him be okay,” she muttered.

“Sectumsempra!” a voice yelled. It was followed by a loud thump that seemed to echo through the hall. Y/N didn’t recognize the spell, but she did know that voice. She burst into the flooding bathroom and looked around, panicked. Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw him. Draco was lying on the bathroom tiles, blood seeping through his white shirt. Harry stood nearby; he was frozen in place. He looked frightened by his own actions.

Y/N didn’t wait a moment more; she ran to Draco’s side and fell to her knees. She took his face into her shaky hands. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I’m here,” she said softly. Draco didn’t reply; he just continued to sob. Y/N turned to Harry. “What did you do to him?” she asked angrily. Harry didn’t respond. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, HARRY?!” she screamed. But Harry remained silent, so she turned back to her boyfriend, his head still in her hands.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I’m so sorry, I should’ve just trusted you, I should have just forgiven you,” Y/N said through her tears and hiccups. She knew that any adult who could heal Draco was likely too far away. She didn’t want to risk leaving him and coming back to find him dead. So she slid down onto her side and laid next to him. Slowly and gently, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. Her clothes were now drenched, but that didn’t bother her in the slightest. She wanted to be near to Draco. She wanted to hold him.

Her attention was stolen when she heard footsteps splash in the pool of water on the bathroom floor. She looked over her shoulder to see Professor Snape. Her heart skipped a beat. “Professor, please, he’s bleeding out!” she called to him as she sat up. Snape silently rushed to Draco’s side but stopped to give Harry a long and knowing look. Harry gulped and fled the scene. This piqued Y/N’s interest, but now was not the time to wonder why Snape had glared at Harry that way. “Professor…” she pleaded.

Snape’s head whipped towards her, “Move,” he commanded. Y/N jumped to her feet and scooted away from Draco. Snape knelt over Draco’s body and took out his wand. Slowly, he held it above Draco’s body and murmured a healing spell while moving his wand left and right. The bloodstains began to fade as Draco’s lacerations started to close. Y/N let out an enormous breath of relief when she saw color return to her lover’s pale face.

Snape finished healing and tucked away his wand. He then reached underneath Draco to lift him up. Once the boy was settled in his arms, he strode out of the bathroom without a word to Y/N. Despite Snape making no indication she should follow, Y/N ran through the water to catch up with her potions professor.

After rushing through the corridors, they arrived at the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was surprised to see Snape carrying a student. He laid Draco on an empty bed and told the matron in a hushed voice what had happened to the blonde boy. Draco’s eyes were closed, and his chest was rising and falling slowly as his body started to recover. Y/N took a seat next to his bed, just as he had done for her less than twenty-four hours ago. Her tears hadn’t stopped falling since the moment she saw him on the washroom floor. The skin around her eyes was red and raw from her repeated rubbing. Y/N grabbed his hand and held it firmly in both her palms. She rubbed her thumb over his skin and slowly raised it to her lips, pressing a delicate kiss to his fingers.

Even though Y/N was looking at Draco and could see he was breathing, she still felt panicked. “He’s okay now, right? You’ve saved him?” she asked the two adults who were still whispering to one another. The pair shifted their eyes to her. Madam Pomfrey smiled and nodded while Snape's expression remained stoic. He gave his thanks to Madam Pomfrey and left the room. The matron walked over to Y/N.

“I need to tend to his wounds Miss Y/L/N if you could step away for just a moment,” she said. Y/N stood up from her chair and moved out of Madam Pomfrey’s way. She closed the curtain around the hospital bed, shielding Y/N’s view of her boyfriend. Y/N nervously began to pace back and forth, finally having time to process what just happened. Why did Harry use such a violent spell? If Snape hadn’t shown up, Draco would’ve likely died on that bathroom floor. Had that been Harry’s intent? What were they even fighting for? Y/N thought to herself. After rapidly theorizing different answers to her questions, she concluded she wouldn’t be able to figure out this puzzle until Draco recovered. Perhaps he’d finally come clean. She’d make him come clean, she decided.

Just then, the curtain was pulled back, and there was Draco, awake. Y/N slowly approached his bedside; tears welled up in her eyes all over again. He offered her a soft smile and slightly raised his hand to say hello. She let out a strangled sob and reached out her hands to cradle his face. Gently, she pulled him close and gave him a tender kiss. Draco kissed her back and rested his hand on her waist. When they pulled away, he gazed into her sad eyes. “I’m here, love. I’m okay. There’s no need to cry.” This only caused more teardrops to fall. Y/N tried to stifle her sobs, not wanting to wake up any other patients. “Draco, you almost d..died. You almost died on the floor, I…I was lying next to you, and if Snape hadn’t come in when he did, y-you would’ve d-died in my arms.”

Draco didn't utter a word. He merely scooted over in his bed and patted the new spot next to him. Y/N rubbed her eyes and climbed up onto the hospital cot. She buried herself into his side and gently wrapped her arms around his lower torso, trying not to irritate his cuts. He laughed softly. “I’m healed, darling. Pomfrey said I’m staying the night, so Potter doesn’t come back to finish me off,” Draco said, a hint of anger laced in his tone. “Why did he do this to you, Draco? Is he what’s been bothering you? Do I need to talk to him?” Y/N asked. She was incredibly angry at Harry, and Draco had just reminded her of this.

Draco stared at her. He could see the anguish and inner turmoil she was going through. He felt guilt pang in his chest when he realized he was the cause of it. He never wanted her to be hurting because of him; he only wanted to keep her safe. Keep her oblivious. But it seemed as though that was no longer an option. He couldn’t bear to lie to her again. He had to come clean.

“Potter did this to me because... he knows I cursed Katie Bell,” Draco said flat out. Y/N’s eyes widened to twice their original size. “You what?! Draco, what do you mean you cursed—”

Draco hurriedly put his hand over his girlfriend’s mouth. “Shh! Someone could hear you,” he whispered. “We can talk about this more in the morning, alright? We can’t discuss this here, but I promise you, Y/N. I promise you I’ll tell you what’s been going on. Just not here,” he said firmly.

“You’ll tell me everything?” she asked, her eyes shined with newfound hope.

Draco nodded. “Everything.”

-----------

The couple sat across from each other, each on top of random objects within the Room of Requirement. Y/N’s hands rested, overtop her lips as she took in everything Draco had just told her. Several minutes of silence passed. “Love...please say something,” Draco pleaded. Y/N straightened her back and inhaled sharply. Her eyes flickered to Draco’s. “So you mean to tell me that you’re a death eater because of your dad and you inadvertently cursed Katie because you were actually trying to kill Dumbledore because you-know-who told you to? And you’ve also been sneaking off so you can fix a cabinet that’ll allow other death eaters to get inside Hogwarts?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth at lightning speed.

Draco rubbed his neck and stared at his feet. He waited a few beats before replying, “Yes.” Stillness overtook the vast room. Neither teenager uttered a word. Y/N was too deep in her thoughts, and Draco was anxiously awaiting her next sentence. He was so worried that his confession would drive Y/N away from him for good. Even though that would be a good thing for her safety, Draco knew it would break him in the long run.

“Can I see it?” Y/N asked quietly. Draco recognized the fear in her voice almost instantaneously. But regardless, he nodded and stood up. Y/N paused but stood up as well. Apprehensively, Draco grasped the end of his sleeve and slowly rolled it up to reveal his dark mark. He felt his entire body clench with fear. Draco's eyes were glued to his girlfriend’s face, searching for some kind of indication as to what she was feeling. But her eyes were empty as she gazed at the permanent image on his arm. Slowly, she outstretched her hand and placed her fingertips on the skull embedded in his skin. Her touch caused a shudder to run up Draco’s spine. He felt uncomfortable that a soul as pure as Y/N’s was touching something so inherently dark and evil.

“Does it hurt?” she asked while removing her hand and shifting her gaze to Draco’s face. He began to roll his sleeve back down. “Sometimes,” he mumbled.

Y/N could see the nervousness on her boyfriend’s face. She knew he was scared of how she’d react to his confession, so she decided to give him some reassurance. “Draco, look at me,” she ordered gently. He tilted his head up to make eye contact with Y/N. She continued, “I love you. I love you so much. I know you, and I know you’ve just dug yourself in too deep. You didn’t realize what you were getting into. I mean, how could you?” she asked.

Draco nodded, a tear escaping his eye. “I only wanted to impress him. I wanted to make him proud of me. Hell, I wanted to make The Dark Lord proud. But I can’t do it, Y/N, I can’t.” Draco was full-on crying now. His shoulders rose and fell violently as sobs overtook him. “Wanted to impress who, love?” Y/N asked softly as she took her lover into her arms. “My father, he—” Draco couldn’t finish his sentence; his tears were too uncontrollable.

Y/N felt her eyes begin to well up with her own tears as she placed her hand on his nape. She gently stroked him, trying to soothe him. Draco removed his hands from his face and wrapped them around Y/N tightly, wanting to hold her. She was providing him comfort, but he knew that this couldn’t be easy for Y/N either. So he hugged her. And for a long time... that was all they did. They held one another and cried with one another. Neither knew what to say or what to think. Neither knew what the next step should be, but at that moment, they knew they would take that step together. And for now, that was enough.

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@jud3cardan

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x yn #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco x you #draco series #severus snape #professor snape #snape #dumbledore #madam pomfrey #curse #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #sectumsempra

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vampiresuns · 3 years

Text

The Stories Of Dead Kings | Prologue, Part 3

✴︎ THE STORIES OF DEAD KINGS ✴︎

4.5k words. In which the Palace continues to bring out things long ago buried within Anatole, the investigation commences and he makes an unlikely friend. CWs: Memory loss, death penalty.

You can read the rest of Anatole’s apprentice timeline series here.

Antu did not like the white dogs. A shame, because Anatole loved that breed — he had only seen pictures of it, drawings in books and a couple of paintings, but he thought it was a fantastic one all the same. They looked so funky and given his preference for raccoons, it was no surprise he favoured fuzzy, slightly funny looking but beautiful animals. He’d pet them later.

Antu liked the voice that called to Anatole even less. While he didn’t like it either, Antu reacted with a viciousness Anatole had never seen before.

Stay back! You’re not wanted! He threatened, his voice echoing in Anatole’s mind as he bared his teeth at the open air.

No! We don’t like it in there! You can’t make us go!

With the dogs pulling him through his clothes upstairs, he had to hold onto Antu for dear life, fearing his familiar would launch himself at the dogs. It made him a blur of hands, fur and hair.

“Ouch, Antupillán, don’t scratch me!”

As soon as they’re in the dark hallway, the dogs vanished, but Antu did not seem any more calm. Still in Anatole’s arms but ready to jump if needed, he was still growling at nothing and every time Anatole tried to make an advance, trying to walk down the hall to explore the room by the end of it, Antu tried to bite his hands.

“Fine, fine, fine, Antupillán, you win.”

When the ghostly voice purred behind them, Antu climbed over his shoulder before Antole could stop him. Of course his raccoon threw himself at an apparition, because demanding fair trials out of the Countess of Vesuvia wasn’t excitement enough for the furball he had for a familiar.

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Anatole tried very hard not to growl at Portia when she brought him breakfast, but the Palace kept hours that were too early, even for him, who had become a relatively early riser out of habit — waking up at dawn was too much, what had happened to seven AM? At least she had come with coffee, coffee he chugged while he listened carefully at her.

He had no clue about how to feel about the clothes, though the shirt was a dream come true. Cross-tied and with a V neck opening, big bishop sleeves, and matching, deep emerald green pants and a sleeveless long coat. The coat had a gold embroidered trim, and it reached his ankles, It would flutter deliciously as he walked down the hallways, the clack of the black boots with a golden plate shoe tip against the marbled floors.

Everything was miraculously his size; he didn’t still comprehend nor trust the Countess’ motives for giving him clothes, especially when he had brought his own. Anatole might not have a personal tailor, but he was very dedicated and careful about his clothing. He always strived to be well dressed, so what was the reason for it? Ease him after his opinions last-night? That felt too much like trying to buy him into the Countess' good side. However, while it was true he didn’t know how to feel about her, he felt it was unfair to automatically assume the worst. This required further analysis.

Portia left his room and he looked at the clothes with a sigh. He examined for a minute longer as he ate another pastry. He looked at Antu, who was still pretending to be an angel after jumping from his arms to fight a ghost out of all things.

He was eating some grapes.

It’s pretty.

“We don’t accept gifts from people we don’t trust.”

Who’s we?

“Oh, is that how it is?”

You have never been very good at lying to yourself.

“And you’re awfully insightful this morning, huh?”

Antupillán continued eating his grapes, this time in silence. He had a point, Anatole supposed. It was a gorgeous outfit but he hadn’t been lying to himself when he said he didn’t accept gifts from people he didn’t trust, and after last night, he wasn’t sure he was on the best terms with the Countess, even if she did seem civil enough afterwards. He couldn’t wear this, even if he really, really wanted to. It would be wrong, it would betray his principles, it would—

It would have to do because when he turned to check where he had left his clothes, he realised the Palace’s staff had taken all of them to laundry them. When Portia had mentioned that, he had assumed they’d only take the clothes he was wearing last night.

“Fuckers.”

He hated people rummaging through his stuff. He was very, very close to deciding to throw all caution and professionalism to the winds and be contrarian as could be. It was a bad idea, but there was a part inside himself which had been kept dormant for the most part. That part made him want to remind people he wasn’t trapped somewhere with them, they were trapped somewhere with him.

Perhaps another time.

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The Palace’s library was one of the most gorgeous places he had ever set a foot in. From its doors to its high shelves, with the high windows with stained glass and the plants, Anatole wished he had the entire day to get lost in it, explore every section, even the ones he wasn’t interested in. He wanted to ask why was the library locked up under so many keys, but he didn’t know if he’d get an answer, or if Portia knew, or if the Countess would be up to more of his really incisive questions about things she would deem out of Anatole’s range of incumbency.

If you asked him, Libraries should be public.

Despite how they left things last night, the Countess seemed to be in a great mood, complimenting his looks and treating him amiably. Anatole detected no deception nor flattery in her words; it threw him off for reasons he didn’t have the time to decode right now. Perhaps he had become too used to people shading half a light on things for reasons bigger than Anatole himself, perhaps the reason was another. It’d have to wait to be pried into.

“You told me you read.”

“Constantly, as long as my brain lets me.”

Silence fell between them. Well, this was starting to get awkward.

“Thank you,” the Countess said.

“What for?”

“You are very genuine,” she said. Anatole didn’t know what to do with that. Taking his silence as encouragement, the Countess continued. “Reading is a wonderful gift, shared by all citizens where I come from, but it’s woefully uncommon here.”

He hummed, squinting back at the Countess. He took a sharp breath as he made himself count to ten. He had felt the same need to speak without knowing what he would say as before, but this time he could anticipate it would be something angry. He didn’t need to know where these things were coming from to know he was about to ask the Countess whose fault was that, and then he’d be really, really done for.

He kept his mouth shut this time — Antu biting him softly (but strongly enough to make him hiss) helped. Time and place. He was better than this, he was taught better than this.

Wait, what? Taught what? By whom?

“Concentrate, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered between his teeth.

“Did you say something?”

“That this is truly a wonderful collection.”

“Anatole… you are my guest, if you wish to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment I would have your undivided attention here.”

There was something deeply intimate about prying into someone organisational systems. How they cluttered, why they cluttered, the organisation methods employed, the thought process behind it and what you could infer of it by looking. The way documents were studied and how and where notes were taken. In that sense, Dr. Devorak’s desk teemed with information.

It might have felt like prying a little too deep into him, but Anatole thought it was a fair exchange after he broke into his house. An eye for an eye wasn’t the best justice system, but hey, a little pettiness couldn’t hurt, besides, investigating the murder was his job now.

His musings were tampered by the mention of Asra working for the palace during the Red Plague. He didn’t remember living through it, though he had always assumed he must’ve been present for it, given their earliest memory was of a post-plague Vesuvia. It had ravaged everything. Plagues were like wars, they seldom discriminated. Not that Anatole knew of war beyond books. If that wasn’t the case this was, once again, nor the time or place to second-guess himself.

Do you know what an explosion sounds like, Asra?

After promising the Countess he would meet her for dinner, he set himself to work. Anatole loved few things more than a good puzzle without a solution, and once he grew determined he did nothing half-ways.

Lacing his fingers together, he stretched them, a waft of satisfaction dawning over him as his joints cracked.

“Let’s figure you out, Julian ‘Magic Cards’, hm?”

He didn’t expect his search to lead him back into the city, but with Antu in tow he’s determined to follow the trace his magic had cast into its streets. Vesuvia was a wild thing, a glimmering thing in the lowlights of dusk making Anatole wonder why hadn’t he insisted in seeing more of it, wondering how much memories of it could he be missing. What used to be his favourite spots? His favourite streets? His favourite garden?

He wasn’t one to dwell in the past, living in the past was no way of living, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t matter. He just wanted to be able to reclaim it, to say ‘this is mine, this took me where I am today, this made me myself, just like who I am today will make me the myself of tomorrow’. He looked at the past not with wistfulness but searching for an explanation.

The area he found himself in was crowded, urbanistically speaking, shabby, probably in need of repair, and while he didn’t stop chasing that trace something in his heart (and his temple) pulsed. Something unknown and caged, something which begged to be let out, something he couldn’t make out what it was. He hated not knowing, he was getting tired of getting all these feelings, these knowledge, these looks and these visions without any sort of explanation. This time he didn’t file it away for later, and yet whatever he felt, eluded him.

The word he was looking for and failed to find was Love. A word which would continue to escape him for a little longer, as Julian Devorak himself manifested out of an open door. Finally, he thought, throwing hypothesis and chasing them was starting to give him results.

Falling into a barrel and stepping on Antu’s tail were unforeseen outcomes. So was falling face first into Julian’s chest after he helped him out of the barrel, both of them looking at each other like deers startled by light.

After Julian let him go, he held Antu, petting him as a way to apologise for stepping on him by accident.

“I have a name, you know? Shopkeep isn’t it,” he said as he looked at the Rowdy Raven’s sign.

“Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods, Not-Named-Shopkeep?”

Anatole caught himself smiling, but as he tried and failed to find a way to explain what had happened the smile faded from his face. Words eluded him and he had to admit he was very grateful for Julian taking it in stride. Because how could he explain any of this without giving away his new-found position? Or at all? He couldn’t find it in him to articulate such a thing — not to mention the glint in Julian’s eye as he turned to him was much more exciting.

It tied neatly to the trace of Anatole’s magic, like a master key he had been desperately looking for.

“Rumour has it you’re working for the Palace,” Julian sneered. “What happened to not being a snitch? I’m sure— well, by now— you’ve heard some interesting stories about me.”

“As interesting as you’re prone to not explaining yourself, though both of those might be gross understatements. And I take great offence in you thinking I’m a snitch. Don’t you think that had I told anyone you’d already be found?”

“I’m very slippery and you don’t know where to find me.”

“I found you now.”

“By accident I’m sure, not to say you aren’t talented and magnificent and all those things the rumours say… but you haven’t heard my side of the story.”

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Stop assuming the first thing about me and how I do things, will you, sweetheart?”

Julian’s cheeks went as red as his hair. Anatole let out a pained whine. Wherever that had come from, Anatole didn’t want to know and he expected it to not come forward again. He apologised; Julian, having composed himself, thought teasing him was a good idea but Anatole levelled a look at him that convinced him otherwise.

He sighed. Julian was right: he’d only heard things from the Palace and muddled rumours. A wanted poster was a statement of capture, not an absolute truth and it was obvious to him there was some sort of power imbalance playing against the doctor. So when Julian said he could get him a drink, to get the story and to pay him what he owes him from the reading, Anatole found it difficult to say no.

“I don’t usually accept trading payments unless previously discussed, or the party is in need, but you know what? I think I’m willing to do an exception for you.”

“Oh, please, you work for the Palace now, I think you’re set on the money.”

“You know, I haven’t discussed fees and wages with the Countess, do you think we’d be cell mates if I did?”

Julian laughed. One drink couldn’t hurt, right?

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The flurry that erupted after the caw of the Raven would be etched into Anatole’s mind forever, becoming part of his daydreams unsanctioned. It was the kind of chaos which brought the familiar thump of an inconclusive memory. The Doctor might not have told him his part of the story, Anatole was well aware, but he did give him some insight into his circles and his person. Not anyone who was wanted by the Palace would shield the Palace’s investigator in the shadows so they didn’t get in trouble for hanging out with said wanted person.

As he vanished after an awkward and unfinished thank-you-for-not-being-a-snitch, Anatole turned to make his way back to the Palace, only to be met with Ludovico, who introduced himself and tried not to stare at him while he hailed a carriage for Anatole.

Anatole paid no mind to the staring. Whether it’s leftover staring from the day before, or staring driven by having found him in such an odd quarter of the City, he chose to ignore it. His apology for summoning a carriage for him despite him being the one who said it was a bad idea to leave the Countess waiting, was another thing altogether.

It was true Anatole didn’t particularly enjoy carriage rides, but why would a Palace guard would know such a thing? Did it have to do with how he felt yesterday when crossing the gates? As he stepped into the carriage he tried not to think about it, afraid he’d overthink his way into a migraine.

Relieved as he realised he was in time for dinner, Anatole took in the exquisite smells of what is definitely too much food. He was too hungry to think about the quantity for now, perhaps he could inquire about it after he ate something.

His appetite seemed to hold itself back at the mention of the Courtiers, almost evaporating altogether. He still forced himself to eat, he needed it after such a day in the City, while he listened with rapt attention to the Countess' words. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin before taking a drink from his cup, doing the same afterwards. That he didn’t have any issue distinguishing the cutlery from one another somehow didn’t call to his attention like his next words did.

“I know, and I promise you I’ll be careful.”

“You already know my Courtiers?”

“Oh no, no such thing it’s just—”

“One can never second-guess one’s intuition, is it not right Anatole?”

For the first time in two days, when he smiled at the Countess it was genuine. “Exactly.”

Just like he knew the painting, the gardens, that other version of himself walking through them and his opinions on subjects which required more education than the one he thought he had, he somehow knew the Court — being equal times prepared to brace himself for meeting it, and unprepared for whatever he may find.

He knew deep inside he could trust the Countess to have his back on that, however. It’s the way the word ‘Courtiers’ felt from her mouth: she didn’t trust them.

The mention of Julian’s hanging brought him back from wherever place of commodity his mind had gone into. The faraway look in the Countess’ eyes almost eluded him. Almost.

“Countess…”

“I am thinking about what you said last night, Anatole, but I expect you to understand I must seek to tend to my people’s needs.”

“And you think they need executions?”

“I think they need to see justice done.”

While restricted and mild, Anatole couldn’t help to look at her with some semblance of disappointment, his unspoken question dancing between them.: And is this justice? Is justice confession and punishment?

She truly must’ve given it a thought to not react with the same impetu as last night. Instead she changed the topic with a weary sigh, claiming such were tomorrow’s matters and stating having questions for him — not of his day, like Anatole had feared, but of himself. Being surprised at the change of disposition the Countess had shown today didn’t cover it. Bewilderment might.

At the mention of friendship, bewilderment fell short too. Sensing his apprehension, she smiled at him invitingly, jovially, exposing her hands to him in a gesture of trust.

“I am afraid I do not have many friends, nor know enough people who fear not my position in order for them to tell me what their true opinions are.”

Anatole sighed. “Countess, I do not wish to antagonise you when I say those things, I find it hard to help it, that is all. I’d like to think if I was in such a position the responsibility was so heavy I needed council, I would wish it was sincere. It’s not up to us how history remembers us but that doesn’t mean we have no choice in the matter. I believe our choices make us who we are, whichever those choices might be.”

“You are awfully impertinent,” the Countess said with a playful tone, “which must surely give you an advantage at life.”

Anatole laughed with his mouth open, his head thrown back. “No, but it does give me a strong personality. Tell me Countess, what do you wish to know about me?”

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Out of all the things he found about the Countess, perhaps finding out she too understood the feeling of homesickness for a place you could no longer return to — because one couldn’t or one didn’t wish to — was the least expected out of them all. Anatole knew he had been born in Bgraz, Balkovia, but that’s all he remembered of his hometown. He didn’t even remember how he had ended up in Vesuvia, though the more he thought about it, the more he suspected he had some kind of relation to the City beyond his deceased Aunt having a shop there.

He didn’t tell the Countess as much, not even sure of how to word it aloud but it was refreshing to find someone with whom he could talk about these things.

The night was welcoming and cool. The stars were visible in the inky night sky, making Anatole wonder how they would look in Balkovia, that unknown homeland he couldn’t remember. The Countess’ words about Anatole not being quite like she had imagined him, or the intrigue she felt towards him pulled him away from his thoughts.

Anatole wondered if she, like Julian, was also a victim of the rumour mill. Word in town was she was a tyrant, yet she didn’t seem malicious — malice was something Anatole’s language filter picked up with incredible ease and it left a feeling in him hard to ignore. It didn’t just make him immediately stand on edge, it also felt like tarr on one’s skin. Hot, icky and venomous. The Countess felt lost, not malicious. Someone with good intentions and not enough turn out, as he had previously felt.

“Tell me, Anatole… Why did you come to the Palace? Why did you agree to help me?”

“I believe I said it was a matter of justice, last night.”

“You did, but when I asked you to come, you didn’t know what for.”

She got him there. The offer of trust from the Countess would not last if he wasn’t honest with her — perhaps if he was, he would be able to convince her to reconsider the way in which the Devorak affair was being conducted.

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Because it felt right. I knew that whichever answers I’ve been seeking, I would find them here.” Anatole existed in the liminal space between his heart and his head. They were extensions of one another. Living a full life required both.

When the Countess asked him if he had any questions for her, reassuring him he could speak freely, Anatole already knew what to ask and in his defence, the Countess shouldn’t have taken it as a vague question, because it wasn’t. The claim was just an excuse to elude the topic; the stage they were in, of whatever it was she, him and whatever else bigger than them had sent in motion was looking at them in the eye and avoidance would help exactly no one.

“You know I mean the murder investigation. The Count has been dead for years, so why now?”

“Ah, that is a right question to ask. Vesuvia is in dire need of help. Order needs to be restored… and I am in the unique position to restore it. However, I intend to lead by example, not fear. I must show the city I am capable. I have so many plans for Vesuvia. I was to see this city flourish… Perhaps you’ll be able to help me with those plans, Anatole. I could use more competent people on my side...”

Her loneliness was heavy, almost too heavy, the feeling pouring into her speech and threatening to cover Anatole under a heavy blanket, merge with his own unattended loneliness and trap him in place forever. Seen and unseen, craving connection and something more he couldn’t name nor grab, no matter how hard he tried to.

“It’s funny,” Anatole said, a knot in his throat. “I did not expect you to be as lonely as I am. I never allow myself to admit it out loud, let alone in front of someone else. Yet here I am.”

“You already know I won’t do things whatever way. I want to find justice, and I do not believe justice lies in a hanging. You are right, your position is unique, but it’s also risky,” Anatole paused to take the Countess hands in his. His next words came from the same unknown place as they did all those times he felt compelled to speak, though they were much kinder this time: “When we know something is not right, we do not settle. People like us, whatever that means, were not thrusted into the world to settle. Power wielded without reason, without justice, without kindness, without knowing the subject you must serve will always lack. I will not tell you what to do, you are capable enough, Countess, to figure that out on your own, but I will tell you this, as a friend: truth is the only thing worthy to be built on, and when we find that truth we plant ourselves in front of whomever dares us to move and we say they move. The truth can’t lead you astray, as unpalatable or hard to accept as it might sometimes be.”

Out of all the things he expects the Countess to tell him that he’s sweet is not one of them. He’ll take it.

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Just between you and me… I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too. Alone in his bedroom, having returned from exploring and chatting around with her, Portia’s words swirled around him, letters formed by a light orange haze, forming and evaporating in front of his eyes. Portia’s words came from rumours but they were enough to cast reasonable doubt about what might have transpired that night. It was kind of her to look after Anatole, so the least he could do was to take her words to heart.

Originated in rumours or not, Portia was right.

Going out with her was as strange as it was enlightening. He was sure the Chef, Hestion, had said something to Portia along the lines of how he expected Anatole to remember his way around the kitchen, only he had called him ‘Secretary Radošević’. Perhaps it had something to do with the investigation, but it made Anatole feel odd.

The servants in the Veranda had been very welcoming, but almost too welcoming and he was sure he had caught a couple of them speaking about him —not as if this was his first time in the Palace, but as if this was him returning to it. Speaking of returning, someone had congratulated him for becoming the main investigator for the case and how it was nice to have him back. Ignoring the way his vision splotched as best as he could, Anatole had only thanked them and turned back to Portia feeling lost and ill.

Normally, Anatole paid no mind to out of place comments. If someone demanded something of him he couldn’t remember, he tried to remove himself from the situation as fast as possible, but these felt different, the words staying with him even though his and Portia’s nightly adventures had finished.

What weighed him down the most, though, was the Countess wanting him to join them for the announcement tomorrow. It made sense, but he had a terrible feeling about it.

Antupillán was nowhere to be found. Anatole hoped that he had a good reason to be missing at a time like this.

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