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mirrortouchedsea · 5 months

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She’s 6 years old, crowded around her mother with her sister. Their newest sibling has just been born and they’re both curious about the baby. What gender is it, one asks. What’s it’s name, she says. There’s a lot of chatter and her head is ringing as their mother finally speaks. It’s a boy, the first boy born to their family in several generations, and his existence must be kept a secret, she says, but we will name him Kohaku.

Kohaku Oukawa is born in a room full of life, with two older sisters taking turns holding him and letting him grab at their fingers, cooing over his features as their mother rests. The midwife is cleaning up from the afterbirth and the men are conversing in the corner, but for the second eldest daughter, she feels a special connection with the little boy in her arms. He has the same bright pink hair as her and she’d swear that they both had their mother’s eyes. She bounces him in her arms and for a moment, the entire world is just him in her arms.

The years go by and it's hard not to remark on the similarities between her and her brother. Kohaku is a spitting image of her to the point that it’s almost uncanny. As soon as Kohaku could walk, she had been told that she would begin training as his body double. It was obvious that despite being 6 years older than the toddler, they were remarkably similar in every way, down to the way they spoke and picked at their fingers. She was to be his protector, taking his place should the Suou family discover him.

By the time she was 14 and he was 8, the two of them had become practically inseparable. Despite his isolation, she would always find a way to sneak in toys and books for him and spend time playing with him. They trained together of course, she was often his sparring partner as well, but the moments where he’s alone in the room and she’s picked the lock again and they’re laughing at something stupid in a magazine were her favorite moments. It was important for him, too, to have some sort of connection to the outside world like that.

Despite the large age gap, the two almost always got along. She had more life experience and helped Kohaku with his homework and reading. He always had a listening ear to her problems, though he didn’t understand the plight of being a teenage girl, he could at least offer his presence. Both of them constantly fought with their parents about Kohaku’s isolation as well. She knew that it was for his safety, but he deserved to make some friends. She had even gone out of her way to disguise herself as him like she was taught and talk with the young head of the Suou family and see if he would be a suitable friend for the youngest Oukawa. Soon after, she began to stay in the room for Kohaku as he went out to play with the young Suou boy, talking about eating bugs like kids their age should be.

He tells her about his time with the young Suou when he comes back, talking about how stupid the other boy is, how arrogant, but always with an air of friendly teasing to his remarks. She thinks that it’s great how the two of them have gotten along so well and she’s already planning for when she can cover for him again the next week.

Despite being their youngest sibling, her other sister doesn't spend nearly as much time with him as she does. They’d taken turns babysitting him when the family was out, especially before he could walk and eat solid foods, but as he grew older that time with him decreased. As she is his body double, she spends more time with him than just about anyone else, and her sister has a lot to ask her about. How’s he doing, is he learning his kanji okay, how does he spend his free time locked up like that. She answers them as best as she can, but she knows some things are better left in the dark.

The one day they do all get to spend time with Kohaku is on his birthday. Those chilly February days are always filled with laughter and celebration as everyone catches up with each other and Kohaku gets to see more of his sisters. They always tease him and poke at him, but never too much, just enough to make him flustered. How were his studies going, they’d ask. Why you’re getting so big, the eldest exclaimed, picking him up and squeezing him. He would blush and stutter out a response, which only led to more teasing from the sisters.

The second eldest took part in this too, though to a lesser extent, as she got her fill during the rest of the year. She’d tease him about his clothes getting too small or being too big for him to fill out properly, how he still couldn’t quite beat her in a fight despite all of his blustering that he could. He was six years younger than her, it was to be expected that at least for a while he would be weaker than she was by default after all.

On his thirteenth birthday, when she was nineteen, he finally managed to flip her onto the ground. She told him it was only because he had taken her by surprise, but he held it over her head for the rest of the day and for once, the brunt of the teasing was on her. At the end of the party, she returned the favor and flipped Kohaku clean over her shoulder onto the floor and stuck her tongue out cheekily at him.

That year was also the year she snuck him his first electronic device. It wouldn’t be easy to hide a laptop at all, and a phone would be noticed if it was on their plan suddenly and without explanation, so she gave him a tablet instead. Big enough for him to type easily with his fingers and see text clearly, small enough to stuff under a pillow quickly if someone walked in on him with it out. She set up an email and some social media accounts under fake names and aliases for him, as well as some parental controls just to make sure he didn’t spend too much time on it and neglect his studies. Even he deserved to have some connection to the outside world besides through the young head of the Suou family.

After a few months she began to hear about a new friend he had met through Twitter, someone who went by the name of LoveSwan, or simply Love for short. Kohaku seemed completely enamored with his newfound friend and talked extensively about the other boy and how they just seemed to… click. She was just happy he was able to find someone else to talk to besides his family.

Kohaku was also quickly approaching her height, and might even grow to be taller than her, though there were still a few centimeters between them. It really was like looking into a mirror, looking at him. His youthfulness and his innocence (or what innocence he could have in a family like theirs) reflecting her own childhood that had, in a sense, been taken from her. She wasn’t jealous by any means of her brother, who had his own hardships, having been locked up for his entire adolescence, but she was almost jealous of how he hadn’t quite lost his childhood spark. He was beginning to go through his rebellious phase, especially as the young master of the Suou family had begun talking about joining a high school for idols next year.

He wanted to be free, to see the outside world and walk around without fear of the Suou family hurting him. She told him she would talk with their family, though it wasn’t guaranteed to happen right away, as he was still two years away from being high school aged and able to enroll in any sort of academy. She ruffled his hair and put him in a headlock, laughing as he tried to escape, one last little moment before she left.

It was almost a year before she saw Kohaku again. She had been sent out on a mission halfway across the country that took longer than expected, but it would be worth it if her parents held up their end of the bargain. She peeled her bloodstained gloves from her hands and tossed them in the fire. There would be no trace of her involvement if she could help it, but the deed had been done.

And she could finally see her brother again soon, hopefully with good news. She would never tell him what she had agreed to do in order to secure his freedom, but she would never regret it either.

When she returned she prostrated herself before her parents, asking that they uphold their end of the deal and allow Kohaku to be free when he turned 15. It would still be another year before he gained his freedom, but he would be able to enroll in a high school and follow in the young master Suou’s footsteps as an idol. He had his whole life ahead of him in the light and she wanted him to be able to embrace it however he saw fit.

As she sat, forehead on the ground before her parents, they commended her efforts in the last mission and agreed that Kohaku would be able to leave the confines of their home. While his existence was still messy and complicated, it would be more difficult for the Suou family to eliminate him if he had a life on the outside. She agreed, sitting upright and smiling wide, excited to tell her brother the good news. Just one more year in purgatory and he would finally be able to leave and begin his life.

For the next year, she began preparing Kohaku for his entry into the real world, bringing in more magazines and books and telling him about the different types of people that were out there and how to protect himself from bad actors. She was almost certainly being overbearing, but she wanted her brother to be as ready as possible for the real world, a place she had been free to roam since she was a child.

Kohaku was 15, ready to leave and she was 21 with tears in her eyes as they stood at the train station. The young master Suou had accompanied them and said he would make sure Kohaku would at least make it to the place he called Ensemble Square, and Kohaku agreed to be on his best behavior and not cause trouble. She gave him one last hug and ruffle of his hair before the two of them stepped on the train and pulled away from the station.

She kept an eye on the news about Ensemble Square and eventually saw that her brother had joined a unit called Crazy:B, although their reputation seemed to be low among the public given how they had relentlessly attacked other units. She sighed and wondered what exactly had happened in the few months since Kohaku had left home that had already gotten him in trouble like this, but even she couldn’t help but notice that most of the news coverage of Crazy:B focused on their leader, one Amagi Rinne. Though she didn’t know much about him, he seemed to be shielding the other members from the spotlight. What articles that did focus on the other members scarcely seemed to mention Kohaku at all, instead focusing on the one known as HiMERU who also seemed to take a slightly more active role in their activities.

It was only five months after their debut that Kohaku called her, asking if she’d be willing to help him out. He needed to visit the member of his other unit in another part of Japan, but the rules of the competition prevented him from traveling openly and he needed someone to step in. She agreed, of course, wanting to take this as an opportunity to make sure his unitmates in Crazy:B were treating him well. She would need to disguise herself as him for at least a few days and participate in idol activities with them, and while she hadn’t been trained to sing and dance, it wasn’t anything she couldn’t learn with a little bit of practice. He even told her that Rinne was on board with the whole thing and was excited to meet her.

When she landed at the airport, she was greeted by three men that had been vaguely described by Kohaku but matched the rough image she had of them from photos and videos of their performances. She was picked up in a bear hug by the one called Rinne, whom she threw to the ground in a show of strength. Rinne just laughed it off and commented on how she really was Kohaku’s sister. The other two men were much more respectful of her, greeting her with a wave and offering her some food after her flight. She smiled and accepted the snack.

The next few days, the three other members of Crazy:B had already made an impact on her. The way they talked about Kohaku told her that he trusted them with parts of himself that he often kept hidden from even some of their family members, and the four of them had shared many memories together. She was almost… jealous of the way that Kohaku had so easily made friends with these people and how they seemed ready to do anything for him, though they were easy to get along with and she had begun to tease them as well, she had to maintain her distance from them despite the nicknames and jokes.

Even when Kohaku had returned and she was ready to step back and return to her duties as a member of the Oukawa family, after the Sudden Death match, Kohaku and Crazy:B still offered to take her out for one last hurrah to celebrate their accomplishments. She tried to decline, but was quickly dragged along by Niki to the restaurant they had picked out. The five of them ate and laughed well into the night and by the end of it she didn’t want to leave even though she had to. The warmth that radiated from Crazy:B was something she didn’t want to let go of quite yet.

The four members of Crazy:B had tired themselves out when she finally slipped away, a sad smile on her face as she took one last look at the light of the restaurant. She would miss these men she had only known for a few days, but at least she knew her brother was in good hands, and that she could rest easier knowing he was safe with them.

#shay writes #ensemble stars #enstars #kohaku oukawa #how. do i tag kohaku sister #she's the pov character #sakura-nee #?????#i'll tag her as that from now on ig but she really doesnt have a name. which is tragic #i've had this in the works since sudden death came out and i'm so obsessed with sakura-nee #i want her to come back please happyele i'm on my hands and knees #editing to add that the tense shifts are intentional. dont ask they just ARE

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dp-marvel94 · 7 months

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20 Q's for Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me, @agentianlegend !

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

62! I can't believe I have that many fics posted.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

918,405

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Almost exclusively Danny Phantom. I have one Gravity Falls Crossover and one DPxDC crossover as well.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Summoning: When Jack and Maddie Fenton tried to summon the King of All Ghosts, the last thing they expected was the sudden appearance of a very familiar, very human boy wearing spaceship pajamas and with a toothbrush halfway to his mouth.

Double Discovery: After accidentally shooting Phantom with an anti-possession gun, Maddie finds she has a lot to learn about both Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton. Eventual Revelation Story.

Borrower Danny: A teeny tiny Danny starts living in Wayne Manor

4. Fangs or No Fangs: For Phic Phight 2021. Jack and Maddie know that Danny is Phantom. They saw him transform and they knew they should talk about it with him. But…even after two weeks, that conversation feels impossible. And so Jack and Maddie have a plan: a trip to the planetarium to cheer Danny up, to finally see him smile again, and to pave the way for the truth.

5. Below the Greenhouse: For the Phic Phight. Prompt by Avearia: Maddie discovers the depths of Vlad's obsessions when she stumbles upon his secret lab. Despite the shock, part of her almost isn't surprised by the stolen Fenton Tech, the ripoff ghost portal, or the eerie Holo-Maddie—but the clone she finds floating in the pod at the back of the room? That's another matter entirely.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I generally try to! I love hearing what readers have to say and will happily answer questions, as long as I'm not giving out spoilers. XD

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, my second long fic, Hope Can Be a Heavy Thing to Hold, ends with the main character dying so....

Seriously though, I do have a sequel to this story planned as my next major project. Maybe we'll all find out things aren't what they seem. 😜

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I love angst with a happy ending so a lot of my fics end happily. I don't think I can pick which one is happiest. This one has a special place in my heart though.

Offspring of my ectoplasm. My child.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have before but not very often. I normally just delete mean comments without replying.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have written a two before. I think Borrower Danny is the craziest one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Luckily I haven't as far as I know.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kinda? One of my fics, The Danny Program, was based on an au which @thesoulspulse came up with. Later, Soul wrote a longer version of that au which followed a lot of the same stories beats as my fic and I beta'd.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm not a huge shipper. Dark Gray (Dan Phantom and Valerie Gray) is something of a guilty pleasure though.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My series, Life and Death is all Perspective, has been a bit of a struggle. I get close to thinking it's done and it keeps growing. 😂

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very good at writing emotions and dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fights scenes are definitely a struggle since I have trouble visualizing them in my head.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I only speak English fluently so I probably wouldn't write dialogue in another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I feel like I've told this story before but the first fic I wrote was a Doctor Who fic for a school assignment in high school. It was for one of those warm-up exercises in English and my teacher loved it. XD

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Tagging @mymadmedleyw @five-rivers @assorted-candy @tathartiel @tachvintlogic and anyone else who wants to participate!

#my post

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claire8216 · 6 months

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Fic Tag Game

Thanks @fandomscraziness22 for the tag!! 🩵

How many works do you have on AO3? 10! My page says 7 but I have some I've published anonymously.

What's your AO3 word count? 122,718

What fandoms do you write for? It's been a while since I've posted anything but when I do find the motivation to write it's usually Julie and the Phantoms, Outer Banks, or The Summer I Turned Pretty! I've written some for other fandoms too but that was a looong time ago haha.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Not including the ones I'd like to remain anonymous 😉) - Fire Red and Ocean Blue (TSITP) - I Hate the Way I Don't Hate You (JatP) - Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through (OBX) - Something Like That (JatP) - I'm Standing in Your Line (I Do Hope You Have the Time) (JatP)

Do you respond to comments? I really try to respond to every comment, even if it takes me a while to respond! I genuinely appreciate people who take the time to not only read my writing but also share with me their thoughts, so the least I can do is respond back 😊

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof in general I usually stick to happy endings so there hasn't been a ton of angsty endings! But I once wrote a fic exploring a character navigating the aftermath of the sudden death of his wife. It ends with him bonding with a woman in a bar who had also lost her husband, and they dance together and while it's nice to have some sort of companionship again, there's an unspoken agreement that nothing and no one would ever compare to their late spouses. (Based off the song Ghost of You by 5SOS, specifically the last line!) I don't usually write major character deaths, and I actually ended up taking that one down because it was too sad for me haha.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The rest of my fics pretty much all have HEAs because at my core that's what I enjoy most haha. But my favorite and probably fluffiest ending is Fire Red and Ocean Blue.

Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember ever getting any hate! *knock on wood*

Do you write smut? What kind? I do not, but I always enjoy reading a good smut fic!

Do you write crossovers? No, but I love AUs or fics based off of other books/shows/movies!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Also no haha.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I've attempted to, a loooong time ago when I was first getting into fanfic. Nothing ever came of it though, we were both, like, 12 so it fizzled haha. I have no idea where that person is today but I hope they're doing well!!

What WIP would you like to finish, but doubt you ever will? Back when s1 of Outer Banks came out I started working on a Jiara one night stand fic and got about halfway done. I still think about it often, but too much has happened in s2 and 3 it just wouldn't make sense anymore and I'd basically have to start from scratch.

What's your all-time favorite ship? This is a tough one! My oldest and most beloved ships will always be Romione and Percabeth. But no ship has ever, and may never again, have me in a chokehold quite like Juke did during the height of my JatP hyperfixation. So one of those three! 😂

What are your writing strengths? Ooo I love a good theme or motif or analogy and bringing everything back around full circle. It makes my little perfectionist virgo brain very happy haha.

What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I'll rush through the little details just to get to the main plot points. I constantly have to remind myself to slow down, a sort of "stop and smell the roses" if you will, and set the scene or create unique little character details to make my fics more descriptive.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in a another language for a fic? If it's needed it's needed! I usually will copy/paste and look up the translation if I need to.

First fandom you wrote for? Glee haha. I used to be OBSESSED.

Favorite fic you've ever written? I feel like this answer changes depending on my mood haha. Right now I think it'd have to be Been Counting My Blessings Thinking This Through, but that could totally be recency bias haha. I am very proud of it though!

What fic would you want to rewrite someday? I wrote this PJO (Tratie) fic called Rivers about 10 years ago and to this day the idea behind it is probably one of my favorite ideas I've ever had for a fic. When I reread it now, I can't help but see the writing of a 15 year old girl who had no idea what she was talking about and was unable to execute it in the way I wanted to in my mind haha. I always tell myself I'm going to rewrite it, and maybe with the show coming out soon, it'll inspire me to!

This was so fun!! Tagging @story-courty @bex2313 and @writerownstory and anyone else who wants to participate!

#tag games #fanfiction #ao3 #long post #claire8216 fics

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serpentcoded · 8 months

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How I've come to follow Hekate, part 2

Fast forward to late August of this year. My house is a fucking mess. I have trouble cleaning, due to trauma inflicted on me by a parent who was obsessive about cleaning but that's not what this is about. The point is, I rarely clean, and my house sucks. I get the sudden impulse to just. Clean. Anything. So I've started in the kitchen, deep cleaning and disinfecting things, taking care of dishes we've (M and I) let pile up. Then I move on to the living room and tackle the bookshelf, which is full of books I don't actually want, and there's no room for the books I would like to actually display.

I start pulling them off the shelves to donate. There's also some other shit on there, figurines and dead roses and random bits of whatever. And while I'm cleaning the non-book items off of the shelves, I find a Catholic medal. I'm not sure what they're called, I'm not Catholic, which is why this is so weird.

I don't know where it came from. I ask M, who is technically Catholic but has never been practicing. But they've never seen it before either. I show it to my mother later, and she thinks it might have been my great great grandmother's, but I don't remember anyone ever giving it to me, so it's still kind of a mystery. Fastforward a little more. Now it's the night of the full moon. Everything is normal, I've cleaned a bit more, I've made dinner, and I've just been on voice chat with my long distance fiance (I was polyamorous just a short time ago, but not anymore. You'll see soon). M says they want to talk to me so I'm like okay, great, what's up? This is when they drop the nuke on my world and tell me they don't love me anymore. Now, we had recently discussed this. And we agreed the love we have isn't conventional love, and I had been under the impression that after that conversation, we were in a QPR. But apparently not. WIthout getting into details, they basically told me there was no love there anymore, romantic or otherwise. They still wanted to be friends, but it wasn't the kind of platonic love I though we both felt. So that was one of the worst nights of my life. We had been together a little over ten years, and had been living together for ten years. I've not worked since 2012, most of my IRL friends have moved or had kids and don't talk to me anymore. I don't have a license because I never learned to drive, and then figured I would never be able to afford a car anyway. For the last decade, M has supported me entirely. And now, without warning, I have to figure out how I'm going to survive. For now, I'm living here and we're living as roommates. But I'm aware that there is a blade hanging over my head, and that they could ask me to leave at any moment. So I'm looking for remote work (we live in a rural area and there's nothing for me here), brushing up on the graphic design skills I learned in school over a decade ago and haven't really put to much use since then, all while trying to deal with the pain of mourning the death of a longterm relationship while still having to see and interact with them every day. Also, we have two cats. So I'm worried about what will happen to them when I leave -- will we split them up? Will one of us get both of them? It's very stressful. A couple days ago (I can't remember the exact date, it's all been a blur lately), I pull out my Daemon Tarot oracle. I haven't used it in forever, but I ask for guidance. One of the cards I pull mentions a powerful woman. There are no powerful women in my life. My mother is the only woman in my life, and she is far from powerful. That's when it clicks. I wonder if the woman is actually a goddess. I wonder if it's Hekate. (This reading was done impulsively and unfortunately I don't have a photo of it) Later, maybe the next day, just before bed, I pull out my Wild Unknown deck, my favorite tarot deck and the one that's always been the easiest for me to read intuitively. And I ask Hekate directly if she is the cause of - or at the very least influenced - my current situation. The reading was extremely insightful and was an undeniable "Yes".

And it comforts me. It looks like a frightening reading upon first glance, but it really isn't. It's reassuring. And that was the first night since the breakup that I went to bed without crying, and the next morning was the first morning that I didn't need to cry and lie in bed for an hour before getting up and being a person. Things have been getting easier since then. I've been focused on reading some graphic design books to catch up on current trends and refresh myself on basic design principles. I've been saving jobs to apply for once I build a new portfolio I'm confident in. I don't feel like I want to die every time I interact with M, though the resentment is still there. It's still awkward, but doesn't feel like a knife in my chest. I still get the waves of sadness, mostly at night, because I'm not going to get over everything that fast, not after ten years with them, but I'm starting to feel now like I can get through it. And I have two people to thank for that: my wonderful, beautiful, loving and supportive fiance @principaliteas who has been there to talk me down and ground me in reality and reassure me that I can do this, that I'll be okay, and that in the end we'll be together (he lives in a different country and we've been trying to make my immigrating possible for a few years now), and Hekate. Now that it's over, I don't think I would want to go back. Part of that reading said that this has been a long time coming, and I've just been delaying the inevitable, perhaps even for years. I needed Hekate to give me the push I needed to stop settling for a life I wasn't happy with and start taking real, actionable steps toward the life I want, with the person I really want to be with more than anything. I believe the cleaning impulse was her, too. She was pushing me to prepare for a big change, and the cleaning helped elevate my mood. Maybe I needed that to keep the crash of the breakup from sending me to absolute rock bottom. And I think the Mary medal was her, too. I think it is her, even if it isn't. I'm wearing it now, alongside the small snake charm I always wear, which is fitting, I think. And maybe this is what it took for me to finally hear her, and feel her, and understand what that medium told me almost 6 years ago. After all of that, how could I not follow her?

#Hekate #personal path

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god1ngs · 3 years

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━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #wilbur soot x reader #dream smp x y/n #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #c!wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt x reader #yandere dream smp x reader #yandere wilbur soot x reader #( ♡ ) + bones writes #( ♡ ) + oneshots

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wildcardjoey · 2 years

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hhehehe, I heard prev tags and bring you content >:3. -*inhales*- SO, Gem is super into old tomes and books because when she was younger her grandmother had those things, so when she and her parrents moved out to the city she forgot a lot of details in the books but there's one spell/rune/sigil that she remembers, and sometimes just draws from memory, out of bordem. Turns out when you're a busy college student moving around and constantly phoning a demon, you're kinda hard to catch so one night when Gen and a few friends were hanging and Gem got boerd she started doing it again and Implue shows up like, "I've been getting these calls for 3+ years, how have you done this??" and Gems like "Oh that is the COOLEST".

If you're hanging out with your friend in their dorm and have nowhere to actually be, you know the point when everyone has wound down and really should be going back to their own, seperate dorms ad different points in the hall and up or down a few floors, but no one wants to be the first one to leave because you're already comfortable and moving would be a hassle so everyone is just waiting to follow the cue of someone else.

It is this mood that finds Gem finishing the carving of that old sigil she would sometimes doodle while bored into the amethyst piece her grandmother had given her as a gift when she started university. It had supposedly been handed down in their family for generations.

"That's really well done." Pearl leaned over to get a better look at the carving. "How did you get it so circular freehand? I know you only have the one piece so you didn't have practice."

"I guess after scribbling it so often, it just baceme muscle memory at this point."

"Or you inharited your ancestors obsession with specifically shaped amethysts."

"Shut it, Cleo." Gem almost rolled her eyes at that reference. "How do you even know that story? I can't even find reference to it in the academy library-" Gem felt the final wall between the carved portions of the amethyst surface cave and refocussed in on her work. "Oh, I'm done-"

The amethyst exploded, but Gem felt the pain before it finishes. Her hand holding the stone shot out, vaulting the exploding rock across the room.

Gem nearly blacked out from the pain. She didn't want to look down at her hand, both of fear of the mangled mess it may have become, and for fear of looking away from the figure that had materialized from from the blast of purple light to crush her desk, obscured in the lingering smoke.

Gem felt... an odd mix of confusion, fear, and excitement as the details of that half remembered story accompanying the sigil.

Impulesffe, his story focused more on a lust for knowledge annd wanderlust than it did the form of desire one would most associate with a demon called the Embodiment of Lust.

Demons are real. Magic is real. The thought repeated in her head as she stared at the creature in front of her. Wings spread from its back, horns from its head, as it stood even hunched I became clear the room was almost too small for it- him, more correctly. An odd thought that was, remembering that the master in front of her had preferred pronouns as she potentially faced death.

"I am so sorry!" He spoke, and his face was clearly panicked a bit as the smoke cleared enough to see it. "Since you'd been trying to summon me so often I figured it was urgent and now that you finally had a powerful enough catalyst, I materialized as soon as possible without checking my surroundings if it was safe." A sudden realization came over his face. He spoke as he turned to Gem, a more serious look on his face. "Right, why have you called upon me. Summoner?"

"Pfft-hahahahhahah-" Cleo burst out laughing. Pearl looked amused. The demon looked embarrassed now.

"Oh no, has there been a mix up?"

Gem started to lean into how cool the situation was that she had just summoned an actual demon. "Are you Impulesffe?"

The demon seemed to flinch at the name. Most people pronounce it Impulse SV, or just call me Impulse, bust yes. That is I"

"Do you grant wishes? Can I refuse my wishes? I don't really want to sell my soul."

"Um. Okay? No... I... don't do those sorts of deals. You...summoned me by contract."

Impulse motioned to Gem's left hand, which she now realized had stopped stinging. The three girls looed at it, and now noticed there was now a bright glowing violet rendition of the sigil Gem had just carved seemingly tattooed to her hand.

"...So, are you stuck here now until this is brokern?"

"No... you dismiss me when you desire. The contract can't be broken either. We're bound until your death."

"Ah. Goodbye then."

"Wha-" The demon vanished, and Gem forced her friends out of her dorm.

That was a lot of information she's sort through at a later date. For now, she headed to bed, head still spinning. A demon contractor. She had to see if her grandma still had that book.

#geminitay #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #impulsv #college contractor au #for now #we can figure a better name out later #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft au

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, violence

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I am... so sorry for taking so long. I was not expecting the start of the semester to be so hectic. I can't promise I'll go back to posting as regularly as during the summer, but I can promise that I'm not disappearing. I promise. I WILL SEE THIS FANFIC THROUGH EVEN IF IT KILLS ME. Thank you for the kind words and support while I've been MIA. Enjoy a chunky chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Little Saint Lottie

October 27, 1943

“I’m worried about her, Betty.”

“I know, Gladys. I know.”

Lottie couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a full night’s rest. Days seemed to bleed into each other, with no slumber to distinguish today from tomorrow. It wasn’t long after arriving at Azzano that she realized that he wasn’t waiting for her. Bucky was gone. In his place, dozens of men awaited her arrival with sunken eyes and twitching lips that begged for relief, whether it be through a healing touch or a final blow to the head.

When the realization hit Lottie, there wasn’t much she could do besides throwing herself into her work; if she couldn’t help Bucky, the least she could do was help his brothers in arms. Although anxiety ate her up from the inside out, Lottie had confidence in Bucky’s abilities. He wouldn’t let himself die in some POW camp, he just wouldn’t. Because then who would take care of her and Steve? He’d fight tooth and nail to get back to them, she just knew it.

She threw herself into her work, rarely stopping long enough to have a proper conversation or a full meal; this bad habit of hers came to a halt, though, when she came upon a boisterous redhead in need of stitches. Lottie had been deep in thought while examining the gash above his forehead when the soldier cracked a grin and peered up at her without moving his head too much.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lottie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Private—” she glanced at his dog tags, “—O’Connor.”

“Ever done pinup? Maybe I know you from one of those cheesecakes we’ve got hanging up.” The man— more of a boy really, with his lanky frame and jovial smile —wiggled his eyebrows and ruined her diligent work of cleaning the blood from his wound.

The question left Lottie flustered; the idea of dozens of men gawking at her scantily clad figure left her feeling mortified, “Certainly not! I find that my talents are better suited for healing.”

O’Connor nodded and inspected her face carefully as she went to work on his gash once more. “I’ve got it!” Lottie nearly jumped away from him when he clapped his hands together, “You’re Little Saint Lottie, in the flesh!” The boy crowed his revelation, earning him glares from the other men recovering in the medic tent.

Lottie nearly dropped the needle that she’d been preparing to thread, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, it’s a funny story,” O’Connor chuckled, “Y’see, Sarge had this little photo he’d take everywhere. Always had it in his pocket, tucked in his helmet, you name it. Wouldn’t let the damn thing go. Anyway, we stole it out of his fatigues one day while he was cleaning up in some river ‘cause we wanted to see what the big deal was. Once we saw it was some dame—” Lottie shot him a look, “—lady, we started yanking his chain about it. He was just about as obsessed with that photo as my Ma is with her holy cards, so when he finally told us your name, we dubbed you ‘Little Saint Lottie,’ patron saint of the one hundred and seventh. That kinda pissed him off, but it’s not like you’re his girl, y’know? Though he sure acted like you were.”

Lottie was speechless. About halfway through his story, her mouth had dropped open and her hands had fallen to her lap. Here she was, looking dumb as an ox, while the soldier in front of her chuckled with childish glee.

“Me and the guys would even ask for your intercession whenever the chaplain came by to pray with us. Poor guy had no clue which saint we were talkin’ about. We tried to give it a place of honor in the tent but Sarge made us run laps when he found out we’d nicked it again.”

O’Connor nearly doubled over in laughter as he watched Lottie’s expression grow in horror. “Well as I’m sure Bucky— Sergeant Barnes has told you, I’m no saint. I’m just a nurse. Now hold still, unless you want these stitches to be more painful than they already are.” Before she could stop herself, the question came tumbling out of her mouth, “Speaking of Sergeant Barnes, do you know—” she fumbled with the needle as she made the first stitch, “—is he alright? Did you see him?” The soldier let out a hiss of pain, “Yeah, I got a glimpse of him while they were takin’ him away. He was battered but alright. There’s no man quite like Sarge, I know he’ll be back. He’d fight tooth and nail to get back. That’s what he said at least, ‘cause he always went on and on about how you needed him and all that. He sure talked about you an awful lot for a guy who hasn’t even asked you to go steady.”

Lottie’s breath hitched at the final comment, the mere idea of going steady with Bucky reducing her to a stuttering schoolgirl. She began to tie off his stitches, “We’ve been best friends for over a decade, it’s perfectly normal to care for each other deeply without bringing affection into it.”

O’Connor shrugged, which jostled her arm slightly, “I’ve never heard a guy talk about his best friend like that.”

Lottie didn’t respond. She gave his fully sutured wound one last glance, “Looks like you’re all set. Now don’t do anything stupid to get it infected.”

He gave her a crooked grin and wiggled his eyebrows, Lottie nearly scolded him but held her tongue, “As you wish, Saint Lottie.”

Lottie rolled her eyes and moved along to the next bed, where another soldier waited with a smile just as wide. It seemed that these men had become pleased as punch to know their patroness had come to grace them with her presence.

The USO’s visit to their camp took Lottie completely by surprise. She’d spent so much time floating from one medic tent to the next that she’d ended up completely out of the loop of the camp’s other goings-on. It wasn’t until she saw the fully-erected stage in the middle of camp that she realized. Her heart beat powerfully within her; with Steve here, she would be one step closer to finding Bucky. One step closer to bringing him home. “They say he’s gonna be here in a few hours,” Mary beamed, obviously giddy to see the Star-Spangled Man up close and in the flesh.

Lottie returned her smile, though it was weak. The weariness was starting to catch up to her, making her feel much older than a youthful twenty-three. Her stomach was in knots with anxiety; she needed to get to Steve as soon as possible.

Betty stood with them as they watched the hustle and bustle of preparations, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones looking forward to seeing Captain America. All these boys care about is seeing a bunch of girls dancing for them on stage, not some hunk of meat in a red, white, and blue suit.”

Nancy, who had just joined the conversation, scoffed, “It’s quite disappointing how little you think of these men and their patriotism.”

Gladys rolled her eyes, “They’re still men, Nancy. Scantily clad women or a guy singing about war bonds? They’re gonna prefer the women.”

Several hours later, Gladys was indeed proven right. Although he’d been driven off-stage with jeers and taunts, Lottie was waiting for him with a warm embrace.

“Hey, Lottie,” She could hear the smile in his voice, she felt its warm timbre as it surrounded her and reminded her of home.

“Good to see ya, Stevie.”

Steve pulled away from her and gazed around the camp, a grimace growing on his features, “Things don’t look to good around here.”

Lottie nodded, a twin grimace gracing her lips, “The hundred and seventh started out with two hundred men. Now they’ve only got fifty left. They’re barely holding on.”

Steve’s gaze shot to hers the moment she mentioned the one hundred and seventh, “Lottie that’s— this is Bucky’s—” The desperate look in his eyes made her own calm exterior begin to crack.

“Stevie, I know,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat and tears pricking at her eyes, “I know, and I’m sorry. He’s not here. They— Those bastards took him, damn them!” For the first time since arriving at camp, Lottie cried. She sobbed and clung to Steve once more, feeling every bit like a scared little girl from days gone by.

Steve rested his hand against her back, “I’ll get him out, Lottie. He’s gotta be alive and I’ll get him out.”

She shook her head and wiped the hot tears from her cheeks, “No, Steve. You’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

“Lottie, you know I can’t put you in harm’s way like that—”

“Steve. I’m serious. What do you think I was doing that whole time I was with the SSR? Yes, we were making the serum, but they nearly trained us to death. I can shoot, I can use my knife. I can’t let you go without me.” Her voice was starting to crack, “We have to find Bucky together.”

There was silence between the two of them until Steve finally conceded, a wary gaze in his eyes, “Fine. But you need to be by my side the whole time.” Lottie nodded her chest warming with hope. “C’mon, we need to have a conversation with Colonel Philipps.”

The two of them jogged to his tent with their coats held above their heads to shield them from a sudden shower of rain. They entered the colonel’s tent, looking comical with their wet hair and heaving chests. Around them, soldiers and officials paced to and fro, examining maps or signing off various forms. If Lottie squinted, she could just barely make out the words. Letters of condolences; heartbreakingly clinical letters of regret for the losses of these sons, these brothers, these boys.

“Colonel Phillips,” Steve began, “Are you planning a rescue mission? For the surviving prisoners from the Battle of Azzano?”

The colonel looked back at him with a straight face, “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.”

Steve’s blond eyebrows furrowed, “But if you know where they are why not at least—”

“They’re thirty miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We’d lose more men than we’d save, but I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl,” before Lottie could protest, he shot her a glance as well, “and you’re just a nurse.”

Steve’s gaze on Colonel Phillips was cool, “I think I understand just fine.”

The colonel pushed past them, “Well then understand it somewhere else. Now if I read the posters correctly, you’ve got someplace to be in thirty minutes.”

“Yes sir, I do.”

Steve grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her behind him, “C’mon, we’ve gotta get going. You go get changed.”

Lottie nodded; her medical uniform would impede this mission so she’d need to wear the fatigues that the government had finally issued to them. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she scrambled back to the nurse’s tent to change. She knew that Colonel Philipps would be terribly angry once he found out she’d shirked her night duties, but her loyalties to Bucky took precedence. The recovering soldiers were left in the capable hands of her peers. She swore as she nearly toppled over while yanking her boots on; it was rather hard to get dressed in such a hurry. By the time she was ready and had exited the tent, she was met with the somber faces of Agent Carter and Steve.

“Agent Carter, what are you doing?” For a moment, she feared that they’d already been caught, that the SSR was already putting an end to their mission.

The other woman pursed her lips, “I’m here to help.”

A mere half-hour later and they found themselves in the SSR’s plane, headed to Krausberg, where the POW camp was located. Howard Stark called out to them from the cockpit, “We should be able to drop you right at their doorstep.”

Fear was starting to creep into Lottie’s mind and burrowed itself deep within her gut. She heard the conversation continue all around her, but she was still processing the daunting mission before her. She and Steve up against Hydra. All alone. Even Bucky had struggled against them; he’d lost to them in the Battle of Azzano. Bucky. That’s what worried her most. It’s what filled her with the most fear. If she and Steve got through the Hydra camp safe and sound only to find that he was dead, Lottie wasn’t sure how she’d deal with it. She’d probably go mad, in all honesty. She’d end up in some institution, crying over lucky pennies and charcoal drawings while being molly-coddled by some woman in white. How tragic that would be.

Before her thoughts could become any darker, Lottie was jolted back to reality by the sound of bullets against metal. Steve grabbed his shield and her arm, urging her to join him by the plane’s exit.

Agent Carter shot up from her seat, “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!”

He turned to respond, “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” “You can’t give me orders!”

A smile grew on his face, “The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!”

Steve shifted his goggles and nudged Lottie, “It’s go time. When you see me pull the chute out, you do the same.”

Lottie nodded with a quiet determination, and together, they jumped.

Entering the base was painstakingly quiet; once they’d snuck into a truck and eliminated the guards inside, Steve and Lottie were left to mouth words and offer silent support through unwavering gazes. Once they’d safely passed the gate of the base, they exited the truck and swiftly dealt with any opposition.

Steve led her across the base with caution, giving hand signals when it was safe to turn a corner and sprint across a patch of unobstructed space. The two of them traveled with the shadows, avoiding any spotlights that could catch them in the act. Lottie scarcely felt that she could breathe, it was as if one exhale would reveal their presence to the multitude of guards.

Once they entered the main building, the two of them found themselves in what seemed to be a factory. There were giant sheets of metal everywhere and huge bombs seemed to surround them. Amongst them all, Hydra soldiers transported other metal parts and containers of glowing blue material. That did not bode well with Lottie at all.

Lottie spotted some guards walking to a lower level, jangling keys in hand. “Steve, they might be guarding the prisoners.” Her whisper was barely audible, fear keeping her from speaking any louder.

“The blueprints said they were below the manufacturing level. C’mon.”

They followed the guards onto a walkway that had large circular grates that cut into the metal, each forming the ceiling of small cells that the poor prisoners had been separated into. Lottie and Steve knocked the guards out and stole their keys. The two dropped to the same level as the cells and began unlocking their doors.

One of the soldiers gazed at them through the bars of his cell, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Steve panted from stress, “I’m Captain America.” He gave Lottie an expectant look.

“I guess I’m Little Saint Lottie,” she responded somewhat sarcastically, referencing the retrospectively comical nickname that was developed by the one hundred and seventh.

Some of the men cracked grins, “So you’ve heard our prayers, huh?”

“Loud and clear. Now let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She tried to ignore the growing horror inside of her upon the realization that none of these men had brilliant blue eyes. Not a dimpled chin in sight.

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes.” It seemed that the same horror was growing within Steve.

A man in a scarlet beret responded, his British accent prim and proper, “There’s an isolation ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded, “The tree line is northwest, 80 yards past the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell. We’ll meet you guys out in the clearing with anyone else we find.”

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah. I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.”

Lottie couldn’t help but stare at Steve in amazement. Gone was that awkward boy from Brooklyn. He was a man now, a leader who could do anything he put his mind to. He’d grown so much, not just physically, but in his character.

While the prisoners worked their way out of the base, Steve and Lottie began their search for the isolation wards. Lottie tried to ignore the sounds of explosions and men crying out from below them while they traveled across metal catwalks. She could only hope that the cries of pain were coming from Hydra soldiers.

After turning several corners, they found themselves in an old hallway, surrounded by brick on both sides. They hurried down the corridor out of desperation; they knew they were running out of time. Lottie stopped suddenly when she heard a groan. It was close. She drew her weapon and dragged Steve into the room, her heart stuttering and her palms slick with sweat.

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven…” That voice. Oh, how she knew that voice; she loved it so. Lottie heard it whenever she found the time to fall asleep. It crept into her sweetest dreams but tore her apart whenever it wiggled its way into her nightmares.

Bucky lay in front of them, strapped down to a table; his lips moved ever so slightly as he repeated the same phrase over and over again.

She rushed to his side alongside Steve and nearly let out a cry of happiness. Had the situation not been so dire, she would’ve descended upon him with a bone-crushing embrace and great big sobs of joy by that point.

Lottie whispered a quiet, “Bucky?” His eyes were glazed over and his mouth agape, “Is that— is that—”

“It’s us, Buck,” Steve nodded reassuringly as he tore at the straps across Bucky’s chest. Bucky looked up at him, taking his face in,

“Us?”

“Me and Lottie,” he nodded, tugging her closer so that the two of them could be in Bucky’s field of vision.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, finally feeling whole again. She’d gotten her Brooklyn boys back. Bucky only looked back in confusion, “Little Lottie, she— she’s always been here. Always. Stayed with me the whole time.”

It was Lottie and Steve’s turn for confusion. Lottie brushed the hair back from his forehead to calm him down and ground him, “Bucky, I’ve been with the SSR this whole time. We’re here to rescue you.”

Steve nodded and dragged him off the table, “I thought you were dead.”

Bucky was obviously having a hard time processing everything that was happening, “I thought you were smaller.”

Lottie listened as the gunfire intensified, “Come on, we need to move.” Steve threw one of Bucky’s arms over his shoulder and the two fell into step behind her.

“What happened to you?” Bucky grunted out, pain etched into his voice.

“I joined the army.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve was growing agitated, “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Lottie huffed, “I’d sure hope so after all that effort I put into it.”

Bucky mustered out a befuddled, “Huh?”

“I helped to create the serum that made him like that.”

“So that’s why you left without saying a word.” Bucky’s tone was only slightly accusatory.

Lottie muttered a weak “Yeah.” They’d need to have a lengthier conversation once he wasn’t struggling to walk five yards.

As they crossed the catwalks to get towards the exit, the factory below them began to combust. Huge flames erupted from the metal contraptions and triggered explosions all around them. They hastily climbed the metal stairs to get to higher ground.

“Captain America, how exciting!” A thick German accent cut through the noise of explosions and gunfire. “I am a great fan of your films!” Before them stood two men; one was a short little fellow clad in a jacket and fedora. The other was tall and wore a distinguished Hydra uniform with its menacing crest emblazoned on his shoulder.

The taller of the two gave Captain America a once over as he strode across the catwalk that separated them, “So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Steve snarled and punched the man in the face. The swift blow caused a blotch of redness to appear near his eye and a sinking feeling of realization settled into Lottie’s stomach. This was Schmidt, the monster who used the serum prototype.

Before she could say anything, Schmidt struck back and left a dent in Steve’s shield, “Haven’t I?”

There was a brief scuffle before Schmidt backed off while the other man pulled a lever, pulling the catwalk apart. With a grin, Schmidt began pulling at the skin of his face and revealed fiery red muscle and tissue beneath, just as Lottie had seen when she first began experimenting with the formula. “You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, but in reality, you are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind. Unlike you, I embrace it proudly. Without fear!”

“Then how come you’re running?”

Steve never got an answer. Schmidt and the other man had already boarded an elevator and left them standing on the catwalk, nearly helpless.

Another explosion went off, cueing the trio to leave, “C’mon, let’s go. Up.” Lottie instructed the men to follow her, though she wasn’t too sure how to escape the factory. All she knew was that they needed to keep ascending the stairs.

When they reached the top of the stairs, they were faced with a metal beam that led to a catwalk with an exit. It was terrifyingly slim, with only enough room to place one foot in front of the other.

“Ladies first,” Bucky murmured, “but I’ll be right behind you.” Lottie felt sure of herself knowing that at least she wouldn’t have to cross on her own.

She took a tentative first step, testing how well it would hold her weight. Lottie tried not to look down at the fiery pit below while she carefully moved along the beam. It was a comfort to have Bucky behind her with his chest nearly pressed against her back as he followed her every step. Lottie had just scrambled over the railing of the catwalk when a jarring explosion shifted the beam’s position and sent it careening downwards. She gasped in horror as Bucky leaped to grab onto the catwalk.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something!”

Steve stared at the two of them from across the pit, “Just go! Get out of here!”

Bucky slammed his fist on the railing, desperation tearing at his voice, “No, not without you!”

“Steve, please! We can’t just leave you here!” Lottie pleaded. Steve couldn’t die, not like this.

With a look of determination, Steve backed up and made a running jump to clear the gap between the two catwalks. An explosion threatened to swallow him up, but he made it over safely, although a little worse for wear.

Lottie and Bucky could only stare in amazement. Steve nodded to them both, “Let’s get outta here.”

Several ladders and a whole lot of dodging later, the trio found themselves trudging towards the tree line.

It was silent amongst the three of them; painfully, dreadfully silent. She decided it was time to break the silence, “Bucky, I—”

“Look, Little Lottie, I know you’re sorry, alright? And I forgive you. Even though you lied to my face and left without saying goodbye, I had a whole lotta time to spend forgiving you.”

Now that the fear of being caught by Hydra soldiers had fully subsided, Lottie allowed herself to let out a sob of joy and nearly threw herself at Bucky. She almost apologized for the force of her embrace since it was likely to hurt a man who’d been captured by Hydra, but he didn’t show any sign of pain. She’d need to remember that for later.

“I missed you so much, Bucky. I really did,” Lottie nearly whimpered. Gosh, she sure sounded lovesick. “I missed you too, Little Lottie.” His embrace was sure and strong, and with it, a flood of memories came back to her. Nights on her fire escape. A birthday evening spent swing dancing. A lucky penny slipped into her hand. For the first time in months, Lottie finally felt whole. Her heart that had been splintered into shards of pain and hopelessness had finally begun to mend itself back together. While she found comfort in his arms and forgiveness, she knew there were still so many words left unsaid; words that he needed and deserved to hear.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too,” Steve muttered, obviously peeved that he was being left out of their moment.

“Aw, come on, Stevie,” Lottie grinned and pulled away from Bucky a little to allow Steve to join their hug.

“And if I remember correctly, Bucky, I think it’s actually Little Saint Lottie now,” she grinned. While she couldn’t see his face at the moment, she just knew it was turning a gorgeous shade of scarlet, based on the sputtering coming out of his mouth.

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 8

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bucky entered the bar wearing a neat, black expensive suit, a Rolex sticking out of his left sleeve. He unfastened two buttons by his waist and flung both sides of the suit in the air before sitting down on the stool. He rolled up his sleeves, his lean forearms in plain sight under the incandescent lights hanging by the counter.

Your eyes lingered longer than they should have so you shook your head and ignored his gaze, getting back to work.

"Fancy seeing you back here, James." Out of nowhere, a slight giggle came out from your mouth, pushing the tap handle up and briskly pushing Bucky's hand away. Your eyes found his, whilst you waited for the liquid to fill the beer mug. "I'll get back on you later. I have to give this beer to that son of a bitch over there."

You glanced at the man from earlier who was still giving you a death-like stare.

Bucky responded with a short chuckle and waited for you to finish. You opened your mouth to call Nick but decided against it, calling for Nat instead, who was holding a tray of chicken wings. Nat usually only had three shifts a week but since you were understaffed this week, she had the decency to help out.

"By the way, is Peter here?" Bucky asked.

You glanced at Peter's briefcase. "Yes, he came here straight from an urgent work thing. He just needed to go to the toilet."

"Good, good, that's good." He kept nodding his head, staring at absolutely nothing at all.

You waved your hand in front of his face. "Bucky? You okay?"

"Yeah, no, I'm good." He answered but you weren't convinced. He looked at Peter's briefcase and the beer bottle beside it. "Is that Peter's drink?"

The realization dawned on you once those words slipped out of his mouth. You pursed your lips then nodded. "I tried talking him out of it before but he never listened. You know how Peter is. Stubborn as a damn rock."

"That he is."

"Are you going to talk to him about it?"

"I think so, but not now. I think now's not the right time." He replied. "So, how about that drink, doll?" He asked, swiftly changing the subject.

You ignored the shivers starting to slither on your skin when you heard his little nickname for you. You have been called other nicknames in the bar, including doll, but not one had an effect on you.

Except Bucky.

While grabbing a glass on the counter, you continued to stare at him you felt absolutely nothing. "I feel like you're more of an old-fashioned guy." you commented.

Bucky didn't say anything but a smile formed on his pink plump lips as you made him a glass of old-fashioned. Besides, you can never go wrong with the original cocktail.

Once you were finished, he held the glass near his face, his nose hovering above the drink.

"You know, I've had so many old-fashioned. Smells nothing like this." Then, he took a tiny sip, released a puff of breath and clicked his tongue. "But damn, if it isn't the best old-fashioned I ever had."

You suppressed a giggle. Instead, you smirked at him. "You're not the only one who can make a mean drink, Bucky Barnes."

He chuckled and went on to say that his was still better since it was his own drink and not a classic one. You weren't much of the condescending type so you agreed with him. You could never make your own drink; only the ones you've learned from Steve from the past year.

By the time Bucky devoured the whole drink, Peter had arrived. He was so loud that everyone in the bar turned their heads towards Peter who practically jumped on Bucky from a feet from where he was standing.

"Parker, keep it the fuck down." You scolded Peter like how a mother scolds a child. But with the curses.

Peter gave you an apologetic look as he sat down on the high stool. "Oh, wait, guess who came by the office today," before he could even let you guess, he jumped straight to the answer, "Wanda."

Your actions stopped the moment you heard Wanda's name but moved on eventually. You ignored Peter's eyes while you wiped the counter table, even though it was already squeaky clean. "Maximoff?"

"Yes, Wanda Maximoff! Our team got her as the head photographer for the clothing line account we landed on." He stated.

"Who's Wanda?" Bucky interrupted, curious about the whole thing.

"She's this friend of y/n's who used to tag along with her almost everyday in NYU." Peter replied. "She's also a photographer."

Peter went on about the whole clothing line account for a few minutes. It was mostly about how he and his team landed a "cool photographer" like Wanda. Sunday was the only time Wanda was free so they took an opportunity to talk to her.

Must be nice to be so busy all the damn time.

Peter proceeded to talk so highly of her and all the work she'd done in just a shy of a year in the industry. If you remembered correctly, the only time Peter and Wanda ever spoke to one another was when Wanda came to borrow something of yours and asked Peter if you were home. Now, he talked about her as if he'd known her for years.

Your eyes lazily wandered to the photographs you've shown Bucky this morning on the wall. Suddenly, it was eerily silent inside your head. No jukebox noise, no television noise, no rowdy noise; nothing.

It had been three years and you haven't accomplished anything that could fill your heart's content. No photos in magazines, not even on the damn streets. They were just here on the bar, camouflaged among the walls.

When your eyes found Peter and Bucky's, Peter had just finished his little story with Wanda starting to work with them for the next few weeks. "This is the biggest account my team has ever gotten. I am so excited!"

"I'm glad everything has been working out for you, Peter." Bucky placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, patting him.

"I just want to be like you, Buck."

Bucky glanced at you for a second. He let go of Peter's shoulder. He didn't respond to him. He just offered Peter a smile.

The two talked the whole night while you were pulled in every direction as more people came. You were making drinks left and right. The people by the counter had their eyes set on somewhere else. The television right above the counter. The billiards table. The jukebox. People dancing by the jukebox. Good-looking ladies being jeered at by single men, and vice-versa.

But only a pair of eyes was watching you move around: Bucky's.

You had caught him staring quite a few times the whole four hours you were working at the bar even though he was conversing with Peter. The whole time making and handing drinks to people, you kept thinking if Peter and Bucky were talking about you. Usually, you would eavesdrop in other people's conversations — of course, these were strangers. You didn't think you could do that to both Peter and Bucky. You shut your ears whenever you'd come near them but it wasn't as if they could be heard, anyway. You could barely hear the conversation with the television on, the jukebox playing and all the people buzzing in the bar — but you did catch some words like "Stark", "White Wolf", "home", and some country names.

All of a sudden, you stopped obsessing on the subject of their conversation. Your mind was then wrapped around with thoughts on Wanda and how, in just one year, she had already accomplished so much in her career whilst you were still here, juggling two jobs. You weren't the jealous type but the more you thought about it, the more those ugly feelings grew. Your photos on the damn walls were not much of a help. They just reminded you that you were a failure, that this was what you get for being a mediocre photographer and for settling for a menial job.

But you had to do what you needed to do in order to survive in this cruel world.

You did try and apply for some big advertising and business companies while working in the bar but luck was never on your side. There were always better ones, or ones who had connections. The latter one was just one of the many reasons why you hated big corporations.

"Who's the rich guy?" Whisking you from your train of thoughts was Nat. She was holding a tray full of canned beers and some fries, and caught up with you.

You walked towards the booth together.

"That's Bucky. Peter's stepbrother." You and Nat gave the food and beverage to the people in the booth.

"He'd been eyeing you for the past few hours." She hugged her tray on her chest as you walked back to the counter. "And you know what I think, y/n?"

"Nat — "

"He wants a piece of you."

You and Nat weren't as close as people would think you were. You only hung out in the workplace. And by hang out, you meant talking (even gossiping) while working.

"Please, he's so much older than me."

"That's what makes it hotter, dumbass."

"When was it ever hot?"

"Duh, those lingering stares he'd been giving you." She raised an eyebrow, stopping at the edge of the counter. "I'm telling you, he wants you."

"He's Peter's stepbrother, Nat. It's inappropriate!"

"It's not like he's his biological brother. And besides, I think it's..." She leaned in and whispered. "Thrilling."

You rolled your eyes. "And I think you're delusional."

"Think whatever you want to think." Nat chuckled. "But the facts are right there. He wants to get a taste of you, and you of him. Ciao, bitch."

And with that, she spun around, her red hair lost in the sea of strangers.

By the time your shift was ending, you removed the apron and hung it on the coat rack near Steve's office at the back. Your instinct was to go to Steve's office and let him know that your shift was over but you just remembered that he was in Rhode Island with his family. You lost the grip on the knob then went back to the counter and tapped Peter's shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Bucky.

"Already?" Peter asked in disbelief. "Wow, it's true what they say. Time flies by when people are catching up."

You squinted your eyes at him. "I literally have never heard someone say that, Parker."

"Really, never?"

"Never." You replied, opening the passthrough. "Now, let's go."

"Wait," Peter said, "I have to go to the toilet real quick."

"Our apartment is right above this bar. You can just go there."

"Sorry, y/n. This can't wait." He sped towards the toilet, practically flying. You sighed and took his seat, facing Bucky.

"Hey, doll." He said in a voice that could make any woman swoon and fall on the floor. Bucky's voice was raspier than you remembered, breath with a hint of whiskey mixed with beer. "Haven't spoken to you in a while."

"Sunday nights can be busy as well."

"So, I've seen." He hummed. "This is your everyday life, huh?"

"Except Mondays. We're closed on Mondays. And except when I have some photography gig." You replied then whispered the next part: "Which I haven't been getting lately."

"Isn't Sunday," he laughed, "supposed to be a rest day?"

"In our bible, it's Monday."

Before Bucky could even speak, Peter came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. "If you just accepted that job offer at our company, we would've been working together, y/n."

You playfully shrugged him off. "You were thinking about that while peeing? Weirdo. Plus, Wanda has a lot more experience than I have."

"But — "

"Come on, let's go. You're drunk." You lifted off his arm and turned towards Bucky. "You take him. He's a bit hard to handle when he's this drunk."

Bucky walked ahead, guiding Peter towards the door. Before you could even follow the two, Nat patted your shoulder. You spun around, meeting her suggestive eyes. Without even a second thought, she pulled your tight v-top even lower and spilled some drink on your exposed cleavage.

"Nat, what the damn hell!" You hissed.

"Trust me on this, babe." She scrunched up her nose. "Go get some rich dick." She twirled your body so easily then slapped your ass. You wanted to shout at Nat but you didn't want to cause a scene in the bar and the moment had already passed as she disappeared amongst the crowd once again.

You caught up towards Bucky and Peter, opening the door for them.

The walk towards the apartment unit was tedious and was accompanied by Peter's hilarious commentaries about every little thing he saw on the way. As Bucky's arm was getting sore, you helped lift Peter up as the elevator doors closed behind you.

You felt Bucky's eyes on you as you lifted Peter's right arm, slinging it across your shoulders. You came face to face with Bucky, his eyes somewhere underneath your neck. You cleared my throat to get his attention.

"Uh," he stammered, "you got some alcohol on your... uh..."

"Oh, yeah. Don't mind that. Some idiot spilled on me." Nat really was some idiot.

A genius idiot.

Peter immediately hugged his pillow once we placed him on his bed. You leaned in and kissed his forehead good night. "I hope you have a heavy hangover tomorrow, Parker."

You turned around only to be blocked by Bucky's towering figure. "Sorry." You mumbled, looking down on your feet.

"It's alright, doll." He replied, making some space for you to walk on.

You headed towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water and Bucky followed suit, tossing his suit jacket on the couch as if he was living in your place.

"You should go get changed." He spoke.

You rolled your eyes, finishing up your water.

"Okay, daddy." Of course, you meant it as a joke as it sounded so much funnier in your head — not so much said out loud.

Bucky's eyes lit up with curiosity, walking towards you. "What did you say?"

"Nothing." You replied quickly. "I absolutely said nothing."

He just continued to stare as he strode towards you. You just stayed frozen in your place, unable to process what was about to happen. You backed away from Bucky as he neared you, your back hitting the fridge. He stopped right in front of you. He looked so much different when you first saw him. His eyes had become darker and stared with so much intensity and intention.

"You know, you're something else." He licked his lower lip.

"I don't know what you mean, Bucky."

He traced your jawline with his finger and tilted your chin up. "I can't quite put my finger on you, doll, but you're really something else."

You weren't ready for something to happen so you walked as quickly as you could towards your bedroom, locked the door behind me and leaned against it. Your breathing was quite uneven and your heart thudded like fast bullets on the ground.

You looked down on your sticky chest that reeked of vodka. You pursed your lips together. "Natasha Romanoff, you son of a bitch."

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