#but I also think the trauma is getting him to lunge forward a little

[yandere-sins]

Prisoner #006

a/n: Been a hot minute, but I'm slowly getting myself to also correct the stories I write. Dazai is always fun to work with, so this wasn't as hard ^-^ Enjoy!

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Pairings: Yandere!Prisoner!Dazai x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Punching a wall, Threatening, Bullying), Mild Sexual Content (Dub-con kissing/touches), Reader murdered in self-defense, Mention of scars, Bribery, Hinting at Psychological Trauma

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

"Leave me alone!"

Even when you spoke without a waver in your voice, the prisoners in front of you only laughed, holding their bellies as if you were oh-so-funny. They had blocked off the path towards the cells, three tall, burly men past their prime but still fast enough to step in your way whenever you tried to pass them by. You weren't looking for a conflict, but you could tell they were bored and probably searching for a fight that would make them look superior.

Who better to beat up than the newbie?

You huffed, frustrated, trying not to look scared in front of them. The truth was that looking tough didn't mean you were, and after the many exhausting weeks that lay behind you, you honestly had no nerve to face any more obstacles. Now that you had to sit out your prison sentence, the best way you could think of to spend it would be to eat, sleep, and read books. Lay low, and don't get involved with anyone. Definitely not getting into fights you couldn't win.

"Seriously, just let me through!"

Jumping forward, you tried to get through the wall of sweat and muscles, but they blocked your way again, not even letting you squeeze through between them while laughing in true asshole-fashion at your meager attempts.

"That's a scary face, uuuuh, I'm so scared!" one of them taunted you as you gritted your teeth, scowling. You could feel the burning in your nose, and you forced the tears back from where they were coming from. Them being idiots wasn't what frustrated you so, but having to be here, even though you were innocent, and then being mocked and used as an outlet was just so unfair.

"See, boys, that's what a murderer looks like these days. Little pip-squeaks who cry because everyone is so mean to them! Buhu!"

Sighing, you shook your head, feeling a headache develop as the three continued to mock you relentlessly. It was nothing you hadn't heard before, but it still stung, especially since you knew the truth. But who would believe you? The judge hadn't. Not even your family believed you. The whole world was against you. You wanted to give up, turn the other way, and see if there was another way around to the cells. But you couldn't let them win. You couldn't let them know you couldn't persist through their bullying. So once again, you looked up to find an opening in their wall of flesh, but you were out of luck.

You just wanted to get back to your cell, but you felt yourself get increasingly riled up, not from their insults but from the helplessness of the situation. You were a trapped animal, beginning to panic. It felt like back at the police station, officers looking down at you, accusing you, and then at court, the judge pointing fingers despite being fed lies. You could feel the anxiety rushing into your mind, your breath hitching as you found it hard to fill your lungs with air, meaning you were going to have a full-blown panic attack if nothing happened right now.

"That's enough, gentlemen. You're disturbing our new friend."

Hands fell on your shoulders from behind you, and you flinched, letting out a small gasp of surprise. They squeezed you before dropping off your body, the person passing you by and stepping in front of you. "It's not very nice to tease someone who only just arrived, you know?"

One of the men groaned, and you saw another gripping his head, sighing. "Fuckin' Dazai," one of them grunted, and you swerved your gaze to the back of the guy standing before you, surprised to find him gazing back over his shoulder. His brown trench coat fluttered from his movement, but underneath, you could see the orange overalls all of you prisoners wore. 

"And such a cutie, too," he added, winking at you. He gave you a thumbs-up before turning forward again, and you watched in awe as the three men got into motion, slowly turning and leaving, seemingly discouraged to engage further. You furrowed your brows, but when the man who came to your rescue turned around, you breathed out, finding him smiling brightly.

He looked kind for a prisoner, and you breathed out in relief.

"Thanks," you muttered, noticing your hand was still shaking, but you were glad not to have gone into a panic attack after all and made a fool of yourself. Warily, you held it out, and the man quickly stepped forward, gripping it in a firm handshake.

"No problem," he reassured you, his other hand laying down on top of yours, his grip softening. "I was on my way to see you, anyway. It's such a nice coincidence that we met here, and it's my pleasure to help someone as amazing as you are. The first day can be so hard, I know."

"Sorry, what was your name again?" Your reply seemed so out of place, but you didn't expect him to ramble on all of a sudden either, his words making very little sense since you could swear you never met him before.

"Dazai. Osamu Dazai. But everyone here just calls me The Detective. I'd be happy to help you get settled here if you'd like."

Dazai gave you another wink, and you cringed, deciding that he seemed to be another nutcase, but even though he hadn't let go of your hand yet, he seemed to be nicer than the others, at least. You decided it was your turn to take the initiative, awkwardly pulling your hand out of his grip and fumbling at your overalls instead, keeping yourself occupied and grounded.

"Thanks again, Dazai. It's been nice meeting you, but I should really get back to my cell."

Hoping he'd take his cue to leave, you gave him a respectful nod before stepping around him. You couldn't wait to get back to your cell and sleep off the day, hopefully without any incidents at night. However, it wasn't that easy, as light footsteps jogged up next to you. "Actually..." Dazai chuckled, ignoring the obvious goodbye you had exchanged.

"I was hoping we could have a chat. See, I'm very interested in your case and have been following it since the media started to air it."

You gave an awkward "Really?" as you quickened your pace, not wanting to start this conversation with anyone yet. Too much pain and anger were woven into your guilty verdict and all the lies around it, and you didn't want to be more of a laughing stock in case he was going to spread rumors.

"Look, I'm really thankful for your help, but there's nothing more to say about it really--"

"But you're innocent, right?"

You stopped in your tracks.

"You believe me?"

"Well, yes. Isn't it obvious? Your wounds were too severe to not believe you acted in self-defense."

Wide-eyed, you mustered Dazai, whose expression went from surprised at your reaction to a knowing grin. Gently, he reached forward, holding your hand again and pushing up the sleeve, revealing the ugly, agitated stab wound from when you had been assaulted by the man you killed. Your instincts had taken over at that moment as you yanked out the knife to stab him in the chest instead, the scar being the biggest reminder of that night. 

"When I saw that, I knew you were innocent," Dazai whispered softly, tracing the scar with his finger. He was gentle as he caressed the wound, but it still sent a shiver down your spine, and you cramped up. Dazai mustered it for a long time, thoughtful despite your growing discomfort before his brows furrowed, and he mumbled, "You'll need a lot of help to prove it, though."

His eyes snapped up to yours, and you gulped, his gaze changing from gentle to mischievous too fast for your liking. He was about to offer himself as the needed help again, you could tell from the gleam in his eyes, so you spoke up first. "I- I'll manage," you stuttered, pulling your arm from his grip and holding it in front of your chest.

"Thank you, good night," you said firmly before rushing down the corridor. Maybe his nickname didn't come from nowhere, as he figured out your situation faster than the police ever even attempted to. Dazai seemed to be clever and cunning, a sweet talker with ulterior motives unknown to you yet. For a moment, you had forgotten where you were. This was still a prison, and the people here were the worst of society—no exceptions.

When you finally reached your cell, you were out of breath but relieved he didn't follow you. You didn't want to think about what would happen when you got involved with anyone here, your situation making you gullible. However, much to your surprise, you weren't alone, your grumpy cellmate giving you the stink eye when you entered.

"H-Hi," you mumbled before dashing by him, wanting to climb up to your bunk. But before you could, he stood up, stepping in front of the ladder. It made you wonder if everyone had just decided to stand in your way to annoy you, but compared to the belittling idiots before, this one seemed angry.

"Do you have a smoke?"

"What?"

"A fucking cigarette, you idiot. Do you have one?"

"No... I don't smoke."

Your fellow inmate grumbled, annoyed, then looked at the stuff you were holding, your bath utensils and dirty clothes. "Got something to snack in there?" he asked, reaching for your bag, and you immediately took a step back. Big mistake.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, annoyed, clicking his tongue and tensing up. It wasn't looking good for you, and you eyed the ladder, wondering if you could slip by him and climb it before he could grab you. Probably not. You were trapped. It was either give him your stuff and brush your teeth with a toothbrush he, at best, threw to the dirty floor in his search, or be used as a punchbag to vent your cellmate's frustrations. Could this day get any worse?

"Cell swap!" an officer suddenly yelled, hitting the bars of your cell with a baton.

"What?!" your cellmate barked, twisting around and stepping towards the officer, who seemed unfazed by the hulking figure.

"Got no choice," the officer explained factually. "Order from high up."

"What bastard would request so swap cells!? This's been my cell since I got here fucking years ago! This is my place, you can't take it from me!"

"Well, not anymore," the officer sighed, and your cellmate roared in anger, turning back to you.

"Did you do that? You bastard, I'll teach you some manners, you fucking idiot!"

Fear gripped you as the huge man prowled towards you, fury written in his expression as he believed it was you who caused this change. You stepped backwards until the cold wall scratched against your spine, flinching when the angry prisoner threw a punch into the concrete next to your head, making it crumble. Letting out a miserable squeak, you sunk to your knees, shielding your face.

"Not them!" a chipper, familiar voice rang out suddenly, and you looked up, tears in your eyes when you heard it.

With a grunt, your cellmate let go of his focus on you, turning around, only for all the fury to wash off his face. "Dazai..." he grunted, then he got still. You couldn't believe your eyes as the man cowered before Dazai, who stepped into your cell carefreely, patting the other guy on the back before beaming at you.

"I'm sorry, Sir... I didn't know... I wouldn't have punched the wall..." your cellmate muttered, and Dazai waved him off, shaking his head as he reassured your cellmate, "It's okay, no biggie. I'll take our friend here with me, and you can have mine. Though I'm not sure what Akutagawa thinks of living with you, so don't blame me if you die!"

Dazai turned all his attention to you, stretching his arms towards you, and you gripped his outstretched hands without hesitation. You just wanted to get away from here, and Dazai had not once but twice saved your ass from being punched. He was the safer option in any way possible. "Darling! I missed you! I couldn't wait to see you again, so I arranged a more comfortable living situation for us. Come, come!"

Pulling you to your feet, you completely forgot about your things scattered on the ground as Dazai led you out of the cell, always a bounce in his step but keeping a steady grip on you. You saw him pass something to the guard, who quickly put it in his pocket, but you had no time to wonder what it was as you had to keep up with Dazai's speed.

"Wha-" you uttered, but Dazai let out a loud laugh, interrupting and drowning out your voice. However, his step slowed, and he pulled you up next to him, his mouth aligning with your ear when he whispered. "I can help you prove your innocence, but everyone needs to think we're a couple for it to work. You don't want to get beaten up or worse, do you?"

Gulping, you shook your head, and Dazai grinned, pushing away from you and laughing again. "You're so funny, Darling!" he said, audible to everyone nearby before he leaned in again, whispering, "Play along."

You couldn't help but shudder at his hot breath caressing your ear, his words invading and penetrating through your thoughts. Everything passed you in a blur, but when you two were exposed to everyone on the hallway between cell rows, Dazai whirled you in front of him, grinning as he leaned down, his lips finding yours. He pecked you once, twice curiously before involving you in a real kiss, dragging your lips between his, his hot breath brushing against your mouth. His tongue slipped between your lips when you gasped, poking at yours before playing with it. The kiss wasn't forceful, wasn't violent. It didn't hurt, leaving you breathless and your face smothered in heat. It was opportunistic, maybe, curious and playful. But you found yourself pushing at his chest despite the knot forming at your core, only to realize he was much stronger than he looked.

Dazai gripped your wrists, the nails of his thumb pressing into your flesh as a warning to be nice. Your kiss got increasingly heated as you pressed against him, and you heard him sigh before finally breaking away. You had a hard time focusing, trying to get a grip on yourself as you finally heard all the murmurs and grumbles around you. Steam was about to come out of your ears as you felt embarrassed by this public display. You've never been kissed this passionately in front of people. You gasped quietly when you watched Dazai lick his lips, enjoying this all a little too much judging from his expression, smile playing on his lips, and pleasure lidding his eyes.

"Better than I imagined," you heard Dazai mumble, but before you could ask what he meant, your attention was diverted by other prisoners walking towards you two. You recognized the faces of the three men who had tormented you before, but they didn't say anything to you this time; they just walked by, clicking their tongues.

"Fucking mafia," one of them mumbled.

"No chance to get to them now," another sighed, seemingly unhappy with the turn of events.

"I hate it when those freaks claim the newbies. Where's the fun in that?"

"What's going on?" you whisper-yelled, directing your attention back to Dazai, who began to beam when your eyes met. "Who are you?!"

"Dazai," he answered, and you gave him a look of annoyance. Raising his hands in front of him pacifyingly, he shook his head. "Well, if you must know... Before I became the detective, I was, sort of, a little involved with some other individuals that, in some way, are a bit more respected around here. But that's good, right? Now you don't need to be scared walking around here anymore. Everyone knows you're mine."

"Except I am not yours," you corrected him, and Dazai let out an awkward chuckle, gripping his chest as if you had just shot him in the heart.

"Ouchie..."

"Listen, I'm really thankful for your help, but I don't want to get involved with anyone here. I can't prove my innocence from prison, and I don't want to play some stupid games."

"You don't really have a choice in this, you know?"

Dazai let you speak out, even allowing you to take a step away from him. But when he spoke up again, his voice changed from the upbeat, chipper one to a serious, low murmur in your mind. "I will help you," he explained, matter-of-fact. "And you'll be nice and stick by my side for as long as I want in return."

"What if I don't want that?!" you hissed, taken aback by him suddenly forcing his wants and ideas on you. You sounded a bit more feisty than you had wanted to be with him. However, Dazai was unfazed, as if he didn't want to listen. Didn't want to understand. And when he leaned forward, hovering ever so slightly above you and smiled, goosebumps ran rampage on your skin, the look in his eyes instilling real, undeniable fear inside you. It was that of unquestionable superiority, and you felt like he would crush you if you made any more of a fuss about his decision. You could see it in the way he looked at you that his word was absolute, and you had to do what he said, or you wouldn't survive this.

"You will. I have already decided you're mine."

A nutjob, you knew it. And yet, you shuddered, signaling your understanding with a nod as if you were no longer in control of yourself. Even if you wanted nothing more than to run away, your feet were glued to the ground, the sight of his evil grin spreading wider over his face burning into your memory. You knew you were in deep shit when Dazai took your hand, unfittingly gentle as his features softened again, but when he interloped your fingers with his on the way to your new cell, his grip was bone-cracking.

You looked at his back, a sight that had filled you with relief before, and squeezed his hand, receiving a squeeze back. Dazai looked back over his shoulder, smiling sweetly at you, having won what he wanted as you didn't dare to disobey. But you knew better now than to trust him again. He may claim he would help you, but he would never be able to get your trust until the day he made his promise come true, proving your innocence and make you a free person again, walking away from this prison and from him. Being with him until then was a terrible and confusing thought, but maybe you'd be able to lay low and never trigger Dazai's scary side again until the day of escape came.

But at least this day couldn't get worse, right?

Right...?

#Dazai #Osamu Dazai #Dazai Osamu #yandere dazai #yandere!dazai #dazai bsd #Bungou Stray Dogs #BDS #yandere bds #yandere!bds #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere!bungou stray dogs #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[pixie-dust-and-pain]

Nothing Proves I'm Dead, Nothing Proves I'm Alive

Words: 1148

Summary: Robin and Finn just have a little well-deserved quality time together (after literally being traumatized also Robin lives shush)

A/N: bro why does tumblr rarely work in my region :(

They're not supposed to mature this fast. That's what the therapist has told them both, their cases alien to all professionals. Their hurt manifests itself in different ways, in Robin, it's the increased anger at the smallest of issues, despising anybody and everybody except Finny. And for Finn? He's an outcast. Children talking about stupid things don't interest him any longer, he's too old for all that, been through far too much to be afraid of the math teacher or giggle over graffitied penises on walls. Okay, he sometimes giggles at the penises (although he's usually the perpetrator, the reason for said drawings), but he's been through hell and back and has stopped caring about things.

Nobody tries hurting Finn anymore, and even if they did, he's far too apathetic to spare them, but Robin still wanders around him, an odd protectiveness making him glare at everyone who even thinks about him with ill intent. 

They thought their trauma would change them, make them feel different, resent the other, perhaps, or maybe even be unable to talk, but that's one thing that hasn't happened. It's one thing they have to be grateful for. If anything, it's made them even more compatible. They fit well together. They are old souls, as the teachers call them, always together, seen next to each other in the hallways, after school, understanding each other best, helping the other far more than any therapist ever has. They're no longer children, no longer innocent, tired of the world and plagued by nightmares, according to the psychologists. 

They feel like children now, though. Slipping in wet grass, their laughter echoing in the empty grass plains as they race the other to the truck they aren't legally allowed to drive, but even their incompetent police force lets them get away with certain things. It's Robin's truck, anyway. Perhaps they'll never be children, but at least they're  happy.

Sliding on a particularly wet spot, Finn hurtles forward, knees bruising and elbows skinning slightly at the impact. Robin hunches down next to him, offering him a hand, and Finn grabs it, dragging the other boy down as well. 

Very eloquent words are exchanged as Robin gets up, dusting himself and kicking Finn, who's still on the ground, lightly. He'd never hurt his Finn, not on purpose, not if he could help it. They practically collapse as they make their way towards the truck, sagging against the car seat, rain beating on the windows as they revel in the warmth, the leathery smell familiar and comforting.

They are young and stupid, and they're allowed to make bad decisions and rebel, and they're allowed to be disappointments at times, and fuck up, which is what Finn tells himself as he reaches for the lighter, cigarette pack already in the other boy's hand. 

"Your father would kill you if he knew," Robin is the only other person who knows about their dad. Sure, his outbursts have reduced, but haven't disappeared fully. 

"If he knew," Finn shoots back, twirling the lighter absentmindedly. "He won't, I won't let him," There's only one cigarette left anyway; it won't last that long. 

There's still fear, but Finn's had enough panic attacks, screamed out enough gruesome details about the Grabber to scare his father, and hold his hand back. He has power, now, people fear  him. He sees it in the old man, too, sometimes, when he raises his hand, and Finn stares back, fingers flexing and glare menacing. The hands of a murderer, he called them once, when Finn had grabbed the belt, finally able to help his sister. 

He doesn't mind. If the hands of a murderer are what hold the bastard back, then so be it. 

Robin plays with the cigarette first, a whole-ass acrobatics show between his fingers, before lighting the thing, and breathing in deeply.

Lung cancer be damned, it's not like he wants to live that long, anyway. Plus, it's calming. 

Finn's impatient, half his fear washed down the drain, along with the rain and the pain. He reaches over and plucks the thing from Robin's mouth, inhaling the nicotine and leaning back against the seat, ignoring the look Robin shoots him. The cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth, and Robin's playing some song he's never heard before on the radio, quietly, and they feel young and free. It's moments like this, stolen between school and home, moments of solidarity, that allow them to feel truly like themselves. 

Sometimes he goes days without talking, tired of himself and all around him, huddled up at home, alone and left to his own devices. Nobody tries coaxing him out, then, not even Gwen. Robin understands he needs his own time, he needs it, too. They  get  each other, a thought that offers him great solace. On those days he feels barely alive, unreal, connected to the world by strings of spun sugar, a tug and he'd dissolve. He needs reassurance of his existence, pain, sometimes pleasure, but most of the time, nicotine. The smoke is warm, soothing,  real,  the fire hot and fierce, sometimes helping him wake up from his dull, drowsy existence, sharpening him. 

Robin has the same effect on him. He can feel himself slipping, feeling like a ghost again, unsure whether he's actually there or whether he, too, is one of the boys on the phone, whether Robin was the only one who made it out alive, when the other boy acts. A gentle hand on his thigh, the press of his palm against his cheek, a yank on his arm, anything to bring him back, remind him that this is real, that  they  are real, and that he is very connected to the Earth beneath his feet, no matter how he feels (sometimes he feels as though he could just float away).

"Why do you smoke?" Finn asks, out of the blue, when the cigarette is snatched from him.

"Same reason as you, calms me, keeps it at bay-" they all know what it is, "-and just helps in general,"

"I feel the same,"

"'Bout the smoke?" the other boy leans back, legs propped up on the steering wheel.

"About you,"

Robin nearly falls off his seat. "Smooth, are we?" he chuckles, although he can feel the back of his neck and his face turn hot, "You're fucking addictive, you know? I'd give up this-" he waves the cigarette around, as though highlighting his point, "-for you,"

"Then why don't you?"

"Because I need  one  of them down my throat, or at least in my mouth,"

They both laugh at that, before stubbing out the cigarette and driving away from the wet grassland, their spot, and getting home. Finn's father asks him where he's been, he says he had a heart-to-heart with Robin. Robin's parents don't bother asking. They meet at the same spot the next day. 

#the black phone #lgbtq #gay #fluff #fanfic #the black phone 2022 #black phone #the grabber #robin arellano #finney blake #finney x robin #finney shaw #cigarettes #smoking #nicotine #stupid boys #trauma #lolz

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Steve has been an amazing help in recent months. Dedicates most of his spare time to making sure that Eddie is comfortable, well-fed and taken care of.

In a boyfriend way, not a pity way.

Eddie is thankful for that. Everyone in this shithole town looks at him like he’s got an expiration date, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if Steve joined them. If he ever started to look at Eddie like he was already dead.

“Let’s make this quick, yeah?”

Smoke leaks from Billy’s mouth as he unfolds the wheelchair. Holds the handles steady from behind while Eddie leans out of the passenger seat of the van and hoists himself into it. Arms shaking. Lungs shrinking. He normally has Steve here to make the task easier, to help scoop him up or at least give him a helping hand, and maybe even a kiss on the forehead. Regardless of whether or not they’re in public.

But Steve isn’t here, and the most he gets is a steady hand on the wheelchair as he maneuvers into the seat and a pat on the shoulder when he’s done.

Billy shuts the door to the van and pockets the keys. Strolls past Eddie and towards the storefront, pulling the door open and holding it for a couple of ladies as they exit while he waits for Eddie.

Eddie who grips the wheels with pins and needles in his fingers and lurches himself forward. Heaving softly under his breath as he rolls up the slanted curb and through the threshold.

As he passes, Billy gently nudges his bicep with his knuckles.

“Breathe, Munson,” he encourages.

“You’re lucky I don’t have legs or I’d kick your ass,” Eddie wheezes.

The blond chuckles. Smoke curls in the air, and suddenly there are fingers wrapping around the chair’s handles. Eddie sighs. Rests his hands in his lap and lolls his head back, stares up at Billy as he gets pushed down the nearest aisle.

He’s not really sure why he insisted on joining Billy this morning. Maybe it’s because he’s been going a little stir crazy, confined to the first story of the Harrington house with nothing to do but mill around and watch tv. The board games and books that he was gifted by Dustin and Mike have kept him decently occupied, but even a nerd like him has limits.

Besides, the sun can do him some good, right? He has to be paler than a vampire by now—

“What kinda snacks do you feel like?” Billy asks. He combs a hand through Eddie’s hair as he steps around the chair to examine the shelves that they’ve parked next to. “You wanna switch anything up?”

“Anything but Twinkies. I’ve had so many Twinkies that if I smell the frosting I might puke.”

“Mm.”

Billy looks over the assortment of snack foods thoughtfully. Rolls his cigarette between his teeth and plucks a pack of Oreos from the shelf, plopping it into Eddie’s lap along with a few bags of chips.

All things that Eddie likes. Right down to the flavors and everything.

Though Billy simply stalks away and gestures for him to follow with the curl of his fingers over his shoulder, Eddie feels warm inside. Grabs onto the wheels and moves forward again.

The healing process has been… difficult. To say the very least. Dealing with phantom pains and bedsores has been relatively easy when compared to everything else. To the knowledge of fucked up parallel universes and the trauma that he’s endured.

His mind feels more fucked up than his body sometimes. Not that he’d ever breathe a word of that to anyone— specifically not to Steve.

The twisted flesh at his sides, the scar on his cheek, and the little dimples left behind from stitches are all physical reminders of the incident, as they’ve come to call it. Much like the Upside Down is an echo of Hawkins, Eddie views the physical injuries as echoes of his internal ones. Manifested, almost, as itchy blisters and puckered pink skin that refuses to tan in the sun.

It helps knowing that Steve bears similar marks. On his forearms and his sides, and his back. He doesn’t think twice about taking his shirt off at the pool or throwing on a crop top when it gets hot outside. Eddie admires that.

He also admires Billy in a similar respect. For continuing to unbutton his shirts down to his navel and flaunt himself despite the scar tissue that stretches from his sternum all the way down to his belly and wraps around his back. Angry and red and not at all a hinderance to his carefree attitude.

After all, what’s a little baggage to a King of Hawkins? Former or not.

The blond is browsing the end of a shelf a few aisles down, and Eddie wheels himself a bit faster. Plans on making some kind of screeching noise as he comes to a stop like a car coming to a halt at a traffic light. Just to make Billy laugh.

Because he has an oddly mild sense of humor like that. Aside from the obvious bitchy stuff that he’s more well-known for.

But that’s ruined when Eddie turns abruptly to avoid colliding with another customer exiting an aisle, snacks flying out of his lap in the process. Without even looking up, he dips down to pick up the items he dropped.

“Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t see you there.”

It’s a stretch. Strains the tired muscles in his back to reach for the bag of Doritos, but he’s so close, if he can just get a little closer—

The bag is kicked away, and Eddie barely catches himself with a hand braced on the armrest as the chair lurches backwards. He huffs. Feels a rush of panic seep into the hollow of his chest as he steadies himself and sits up, hands already shaking.

God, he wishes he didn’t have to feel like this. Why does he feel like this?

“You just can’t seem to leave me alone, can you, freak?”

Breathe, Munson.

Eddie inhales. Exhales. In through his nose and out through his mouth like Robin showed him once. Or was it in through his mouth and out through his nose?

The chair jerks back again, and this time collides with a small shelf of pastries, sending plastic boxes tumbling to the floor.

“I’m talking to you,” a voice hisses.

Eddie looks up. Gets a beautiful view of none other than Jason Carver glaring down at him. Fists clenched. Chest puffing. Looking like he’s on the verge of exploding out of his skin.

“Y’know, I’m getting sick of hearing your name everywhere I go. Of hearing people talk about you like you’re some survivor, some victim,” Jason says. “Why can’t you just get out of my life?”

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, but Eddie actually feels bad for the guy.

He’s never seen a golden boy go sour in the public eye so fast. Go from the talk of the town, the pride of the high school, to social pariah.

That thought is quickly usurped by another, and Eddie pinches his brows together.

“What, you just want me to not go grocery shopping? Grow up,” he huffs. “It’s a small town, dude, we’re gonna bump into each other.”

Jason tightens his jaw. Squares his shoulders, and Eddie fears that he’s made a grand mistake for a moment before the thud of heavy boots on the tile approaches, and Jason is being spun around.

It’s lightening fast, the way the rage melts from his expression.

Cans clutter to the floor. The shelf nearly tips over with how hard Jason’s shoulders collide into it, and he breathes a pained sound as he’s pinned against it. A pair of fists tangled in the lapels of his letterman jacket.

“I should drag you out back and leave you for dead in a dumpster,” Billy growls.

Face inches away from Jason’s. Blistering red all the way down his neck like Eddie has never seen before.

His shoulders are bunched up. Cigarette pinched angrily between his lips, merely a butt now, and it sends a chill up the brunet’s spine just to bear witness to it all. Even more so when he notices that Jason’s sneakers aren’t touching the ground.

“Billy,” Eddie manages. Straightens and wheels himself closer. “Billy, it’s okay—“

He snaps his mouth shut when a sickening glare fixes on him. Then Billy turns back to Jason, who grips onto his wrists. Looking vaguely dazed.

“I don’t wanna see you near him ever again, you understand?” Billy warns.

Jason huffs.

“He ran into me. I’m the victim of a hit and run here.”

He grunts when Billy draws him away from the shelf and slams him back into it.

“Shut the fuck up, Carver, or I’ll smear you so hard against the sidewalk that you’ll be tasting brimstone.” It comes out quiet. Like a promise. “Do I make myself clear?”

By now, there are employees as well as other customers staggered around. Watching just like Eddie with baited breath. When Jason doesn’t respond, Billy slides him further up the shelf.

“Sign or signal. Now,” he prods.

Jason manages a nod. Pinches his lips together and grunts when he’s dropped back to his feet, straightening his jacket and immediately putting a good foot of distance between him and Billy, who’s still fuming like an overworked furnace.

He casts a fleeting glance at Eddie before he reluctantly turns away. Hisses when Billy flicks his cigarette butt at the back of his neck.

It’s probably the most scared that Eddie has been in months when a pair of blue eyes fixes on him.

But then Billy is crouching in front of his wheelchair. Eyes glassy as he sets his hand on Eddie’s thigh with the most delicate of touches, like he’s expecting the brunet to recoil from it.

“I’m sorry, Edd—“ his voice catches in his throat, and Eddie feels a sharp pang of guilt settle deep between his ribs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a moment, Billy just looks up at him. Then he nods softly. Reaches over and picks up the items that fell out of Eddie’s lap before he tucks them under his arm and stands up.

Eddie can do nothing but sit there as he’s pushed through the store. Straight back to the front and up to the register, where Billy checks out with less than half of what they came here to buy. It’s silent from then on until they get out to the van. Billy stows their single bag in the back, and just as Eddie begins to gear up to haul himself into the passenger seat, the blond steps in front of him.

“I think you’ve done enough for today,” he coos.

Gently reaches around Eddie’s back and hoists him up with ease. Sets him in the passenger seat carefully with a soft smile before he shuts the door and folds the chair closed.

Eddie… well, Eddie’s ears burn as he buckles himself in.

Waits patiently for Billy to climb behind the wheel.

When he does, he plugs the key into the ignition, but doesn’t start it. For a few tense seconds, he just sits there. A worm of guilt starts to inch up Eddie’s spine as he fiddles with his rings in his lap, already thinking of a mountain of apologies to give.

He knows that it isn’t his fault. That he couldn’t have predicted the events of today in order to stop them from happening. But he feels the burden of it anyway. Feels stupid and insignificant and—

Billy turns in his seat. Pulls Eddie into a hug. A tight, secure hug, and tucks his face into the crook of his neck. Eddie takes a flustered moment to remember to reciprocate it.

A lump gathers in his throat when he feels moisture against his skin.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” Billy sighs.

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Bills, I promise.”

He rubs Billy’s back soothingly. Squeezes him when he sniffles and tilts their heads together.

“I shouldn’t’ve left you, it’ll never happen again.”

“Just breathe, baby. Like you always remind me, alright? Breathe.”

And Billy listens. Inhales deeply and sighs into his skin. In through his nose and out through his mouth, funnily enough. Lets Eddie shush into his ear and rock them softly side to side until every one of his muscles is relaxed.

He might not handle every situation like Steve. Might not cook for Eddie or wait on him hand and foot like Steve does. But that’s okay.

Because although he makes Eddie work just a little bit harder for things, makes him push himself more than anyone else, he cares. Enough to scare the living shit out of probably the most feared guy in town. Enough to break down crying right afterwards for not doing more.

Truth be told, Eddie wouldn’t change that. Not for anything in the world.

#harringroveson #eddie munson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve x eddie #jason carver #ficlet #st hcs #pretend like this is canon compliant bc this is as close to that as you’re gonna get from me lol #Eddie is an amputee #he has ptsd and anxiety #Jason is a raging asshole #Billy tough love Hargrove #protective billy hargrove #my writing #tender loving boyfriends taking care of each other #ughhhhhh😩

[nullbutler]

cielois childhood friends au??

this au just came to me this morning but like...consider

When O!Ciel was a kid, he spent a lot of long days trapped in the manor, too sick to participate in his brother's adventures or accompany his parents. He was very lonely, of course, and isolated...that is, until a peasant boy from a neighboring estate appeared one day in his garden! That, of course, being Jim Macken!

So, O!Ciel and Jim become close friends. At first their relationship is sort of transactionary, as Jim originally came to the manor to steal some medicine to help his sickly brother, Luka. However, O!Ciel gets that to him, and eventually when Luka is better, Jim decides he ought to meet O!Ciel too. So together they hide in the gardens of the manor and, over time, become very sweet childhood friends. For most of their time together, Luka usually ends up falling asleep (it's peaceful, he's never felt fuller safe before, on the streets, and also he's like 5) so O!CIel and Jim form a particularly special bond...and O!Ciel's parents (as well as his brother) have no idea what he's actually up to!

Fast forward some time, and O!Ciel sees smoke rising from the hills. The canon anime events have taken place, and Jim's village is in flames. Jim runs to the Phantomhive manor and begs O!Ciel to help him find Luka. So, O!Ciel sneaks away from his parents and follows Jim into what best can be described as literal hell. There, they don't get far, but find Luka's body.

Ciel's parents - who realized he was missing and tracked him down - appear. They carry him away, despite his struggling, and he's incapable of telling them about Jim. The smoke from the fire has clogged his lungs and affected his asthma. He can't breathe, let alone cry...

This is only a few weeks before the incident involving the massacre and the cult. The story picks up at its original pace...until some 3 years later, O!Ciel gets a letter from a nearby count, requesting to pay him a visit. He agrees and...low and behold, standing on his doorstep is none other than Alois Trancy.

SO!!!! I have a lot of ideas for this!! Specifically about the boys reuniting and, maybe, Ciel having an innocent little-kid crush on "Jim" back when they were children. Since Ciel is so emotionally suppressed, the only way I can imagine him forming a romantic bond is if the feelings were actually pre-established from before his trauma. Before I realized I was gay, I used to stare at the girls (I'm generally a bit more sapphic leaning, agender nonbinary people lets go!) in my 4th-5th grade classes and think about how their faces were so pretty and "perfect" so I was thinking something kind of similar to that ("wow this peasant boy looks like he could model for paintings...anyway").

Also! Claude and Sebastian are just side-eyeing each other throughout this entire thing HAH

#ciel phantomhive #alois trancy #o!ciel #r!ciel #au #cielois #null art

[flowerywhispers]

| | Don't | |

Character(s): KRS Cale Henituse

TW: Trauma mention, allusions to torture, blood, injury, breakdowns, gore

Genre: Angst/ vent + vague comfort at the very end

Notes: Gender neutral MC || I was just thinking about Raon and how there was definitely a chance that there were other creatures and maybe even people kept in similar or worse conditions and I wanted to explore it. It got a little too personal to me but I kinda just went wild with it || This is like half of an exploration of whatever was going on with other creatures but also half a vent

There was something unnerving about the way that you would follow after Cale. Back straight, head down, hands pressed so tightly together behind your back that he worried that you would break the skin, nails digging into your hands as you tried to prevent yourself from shaking as you followed after him. The image of complete obedience. It almost scared him.

You shook when he looked at you, trying to hold yourself together and trying so hard, so, so hard to be perfect and quiet. Then he would have no reason to get rid of you. If you were quiet, it you were obedient. If you just followed all of his orders you would be fine.

Then he would have no reason to punish you. You would be okay and he wouldn't hurt you. You'd been perfect so far. He hadn't seen to punish you. You had been good and he had rewarded you for it. He'd clothed you, allowed you to wash and eat. It was more than you deserved. He was rewarding you for staying quiet, staying out of his way.

"MC..?!" Your body jolted, eyes opened wide and you shook as you looked back at him, so badly that he could see it even while only at the kitchen door, neck twisting so fast that it hurt but you couldn't take your time responding to him. Not if you didn't want him to get mad at you.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You fucked up. He was going to get mad at you. He was going to take away everything and leave you to die like the others said that he would. No one would accept something that was disobedient or clumsy. You had no use if you made mistakes.

Your breathing stuttered, panicked breaths coming in to your lungs as you apologised, frantic as you nealt to the ground to try and pick up the pieces of the plate that you had broken. You didn't care that the ceramic was digging into your skin, beads of red streaking down your hands as you picked up the pieces in an almost hysteric panic and the red began to drip faster onto the floor, a pool of it collecting where the broken shards had previously been.

"I'm so- I'm sorry!" You winced as you raised your voice. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it up. I'll clean it up, I promise it won't happen again." You wanted to cry but you weren't suppose to. You couldn't be weak but god you wanted to be. You wanted to tear your eyes out if only so you couldn't see the mess that you'd made with your blood staining the floor, scrambling to get a kitchen towel to clean it up and tears beginning to streak down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to stop them as you took in the now bloodied state of the kitchen towel too.

You just kept messing up. You kept doing it and he was going to get mad at you for it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" You just barely registered his voice over the sound of your borderline hysterical sobbing and something in the back of your mind warned you that you would regret not listening but you couldn't. You couldn't hear, you couldn't think.

You were scared, too scared, barely able to keep yourself on your hands and knees without falling forwards as you tried to clean the floor with how badly your limbs were shaking. But you had to clean it, just just had to, you had to.

"MC-" Was he mad at you? You couldn't tell. He wasn't yelling. You wanted him to yell. You couldn't tell how he felt if he didn't.

"MC-" The hand on your shoulder made you flinch so violently that he pulled back as if he had been burned as he watched you fall back away from him, eyes so wide that it frightened him. It was terrifying to see so much fear directed at him, sheer primal panic that made a shock of terror shoot through him. He felt that he shouldn't be seeing you like this. It was too personal, as if you had bared a part of your soul and he was just a spectator to it.

You kept babbling apologies to him, verging on incoherent and he knelt to the ground beside you, noting how you froze and stopped speaking, every muscle tensing up in fear.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered and you only just avoided shaking your head. You didn't know that. He could be lying to you for all you knew.

He waited, unmoving and only staring at you with soft eyes and a rare smile until your breathing evened out and you reached out to him. He hadn't... He hadn't done anything yet. Maybe that meant that he wasn't going to do anything...

This was... this was Cale. Cale who took care of you. Who had never raised his voice at you. Cale who comforted you even though you didn't deserve it. Cale who... Cared about you? Was that right? You... Weren't sure. But it was Cale. Your mind which finally cleared, allowed you to see that. Cale wouldn't... Cale wouldn't hurt you... Cale wouldn't punish you... He never had. He promised that he never would.

You were... You were safe? Safe...

He let you fall into his arms, sobs wracking your body just as violently as before as you held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you sane and he let you, hands moving to rub soothingly against your back.

He knew that there was still time, a lot of time, before you would manage to heal out of that mindset but he would wait and help you. At least now you had registered that he wasn't going to hurt you. He could never hurt you.

Do not repost or claim. Only reblog 💗

#lout of count’s family #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf x reader #lcf cale #tcf cale #cale henituse #tcf x reader #lcf fanfic #tcf fanfiction #tcf fanfic #lcf fanfiction #spoowrites

[myshredda]

Hi! It's me again!

It's currently 2 AM but these guys have complete control over me and the tiny Spongebobs in my head run in circles bumping in the walls of my brain and screaming scenarios at the top of their lungs, specially about the sibling dynamic of Green and Yellow

Since the two had to share a bed for a little while before they got one for Green, it became part of the daily routine, and when something becomes part of the daily routine, it's easy to take it for granted and start complaining.

The thing with Yellow is that he is the type to move SOOOO MUCH while asleep, and he also kicks too. The day they finally got separate beds, Green looked so relieved to finally sleep comfortably that it made Red and Duck giggle. They had both slept with Yellow when he had nightmares, and they knew that even if he looked small and weak, tolerating those kicks was the true challenge of fatherhood

But at night, in his new bed, Green can't sleep, he is cold, a cold not even the thickest blankets can warm, the cold that comes from missing something you didn't think it was that good... Sure, it's nice having enough space to stretch out, and ofc, it's a relief that he won't have to worry about Yellow drooling all over his blankie, but he still feels like something is missing. So he gets out of bed, tiptoes over to Yellow's and climbs into the sheets without saying a word, he's too embarrassed to. Yellow looks at him drowsy and gives him the dumbest and sweetest sleepy smile before hugging him and going back to sleep. Green quickly joins too.

The next morning, Duck and Red are the first ones to wake up. They both look at the cozy jumble of arms, legs and blankets in Yellow's bed and then look at each other with a loving glint in their eyes, they won't say anything out loud, because their hearts feel so full rn that even a single spec more might give them cavities.

Eventually Green learns to sleep in his own bed, but every once in a while, especially after having an unresolved fight during the day, one of them will rise at night and join the same bed as the other, and after a silent sleepy embrace all will be forgiven…

At least until tomorrow's next sibling argument :)

Everything you write is so fucking Chefs Kiss I cannot get over it. You've come into my askbox and every day you churn out some of the cutest clump characterization I've ever seen, characterization that i wholeheartedly agree with, and just leave me with my heart growing three sizes like the grinch.

Yellow would be THE WORST sleeping partner like: he kicks, he talks in his sleep, he snores, he puts his cold feet on whoever he's with and steals the blankets and can be pretty grumpy if woken up. Awful. OF COURSE Green is looking forward to having his own bed, his issues with personal identity aside, he wants a full nights sleep without fighting to the death over who has the nicer pillow.

Maybe the clump goes to Ikea, maybe Lesley's sick of the complaining and blinks a second bed into existence (thinking about it now idk if they'd want to use a bunk bed because it reminds Yellow too much of Lily and Todney's nightmare lesson and all the trauma that came with that) but somehow they find another bed, one that Duck and Red have painstakingly ensured is equally as nice as the one Yellow has, with completely different patterned sheets and duvet covers, to help with the whole identity thing, and Green settles in his lovely new bed with the capital G inscribed on the foot of it and he just. Can't sleep.

He's cold, and he's hearing noises he's never noticed before and he's absolutely not a baby but they might be scaring him a little so he hugs his blanket tighter but time drags on an on and he's so tired and he's not sleeping so he just gets out of his brand new, equally as good, totally unique bed and hauls his way over to Yellows. And Yellow doesn't even say anything, even though he absolutely could, and Green's so thankful for that he just accepts the hug and falls asleep tangled with Yellow and his blanket and Doggie and the 27 pillows Yellow demands to use and his heart feels so full and warm and it radiates out to the rest of his body and keeps him comfy the whole night.

And the next morning Red's like. Yeah I figured this would happen, and Duck half-heartedly complains about the waste of money that extra bed was, but they're both just glad the boys are safe and happy. And yeah eventually they figure out how to sleep alone but sometimes they still sleep together if they feel like it, or they both might slip into Red's bed, or Duck's bed, or, if Red and Duck ever figure their own shit out and push their beds together, Green and Yellow would join in some night and they'd just sleep in a big family clump.

#uwahhhg its so cute #chicken-needle-soup #yellow x2 au #my askbox

[calmthefuckdownalright]

I Renounce You Part 5

A/N: The plot is winding down and I got EXTERMELY tired while copying and pasting this so if there are slip ups in text where I’ve edited I’m sorry. When I say copy and pasting I swear this is my personal writing, I just wrote it on a personal account so I couldn’t just link it or something

Credits again go to @tuesday-teyz for creating the wonderful world of Butterfly Reign, also I greatly dislike Br!Wilbur with a passion so I apologize in advance for his poor literary stature in this piece

><><><><><><><><>

“Why would you-” Tommy started but the words died on his tongue as air became a thing of the past.

“Because Tommy, this place doesn’t need you like I do. Esempi will treat you like you, not a prince or future Emperor. I feel you’ll be safer there as well. We can get you proper training and even a psychiatrist to help you with the trauma this place has inflicted.” Dream smiled broadly and walked about Tommy’s room describing a wonderful life.

“There are people who can help you Tommy, and I want to be one of them.” Dream finished and Tommy’s heart thawed. He could forgive him. Dream had still been more a friend and brother to him than anyone else in his life.

“I-” Tommy let a smile twitch on his face but then there was an ear shattering crack of wood as the door to Tommy’s room was broken down.

“You stay away from my little brother, you snake!” Wilbur dashed in and a long cut stretched across the right side of his face. Technoblade was close behind.

“Tommy get back!” Both Dream and Techno shouted. Technoblade addressed him as Tommy and in a fraction second of clear thinking Tommy’s heart glowed with thanks to his blood brother. It was just a moment of clarity before adrenaline took over and Tommy was dashing away towards the closest door. The balcony doors.

“Theseus you can’t leave us!” Wilbur cried out and was met with a stiff bodied Dream standing between Tommy and the crazed Prince.

“Tommy, you gotta get out of here. Sapnap is waiting for you in my chambers. He’ll get you out!” Dream grunted as he pushed back Wilbur. Technoblade slipped by and Dream’s focus shifted. The two broadened princes fell to the ground and a grappling match began. Wilbur was recovering from bashing into a chest beside Tommy’s dressing table.

“Dream-” Tommy took a step forward as he saw Technoblade rear up to throw a punch but then something flickered in the corner of his eye. Brown hair and lanky form reaching for him. Tommy retreated as Wilbur lunged forward to grab him and something cold and hard hit against his back and sent his body careening backwards. Nothing was below him and Tommy tumbled over the railing and down to the gardens below. 

Nobles left over from his party screamed and Tommy went down, down, down without stopping. A scream left his throat. A desperate call for anyone to come and save him. A fall like this would kill him and it was going so slow. The world blurred by but it felt like he was falling for forever.

Then there was something jumping from his balcony. A ghost of some kind and broad wings of pure white with grime sticking to the feathers stretched out and folded close to come after him.

“Technoblade?” Tommy gasped out just moments before his brother grabbed him and the air rushed beneath him and the clouds drew closer with a beat of winter wings.

“Are you okay Tommy?” Technoblade’s voice wavered and a look of steel masked his features.

“You have wings!” Tommy said in shock and clung to Techno’s uniform for dear life as the ground came closer and closer.

“Answer me, are you okay?” Technoblade asked again and set Tommy down on sturdy grass that was frosted with snow already. A single tree on a hill stood beside them.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine.” Tommy stumbled back and admired the great things of legend. “How long have you had them?” Tommy breathed and Technoblade stretched the feathers to full length with a sigh of contentment.

“A while.” He said dully and watched as noble after noble came rushing to see the winged savior of the Crown Prince. The public wouldn’t know of his treasonous words yet and the renunciation of his place as Prince in the Antarctic Empire.

“Is that General Technoblade?”

“The ghost has wings?”

Questions darted around and it wasn’t long before Dream, Wilbur, and the Emperor himself arrived. Wilbur was dumbfounded and didn’t charge straight ahead. He stared, just like everyone else and somewhere in those brown eyes, glimmers of red shone under the afternoon sun.

“Technoblade, you have wings.” Emperor Philza gapped at his son and Tommy felt the need to shrink away and run. This was his chance. Techno had taken the attention and now he could find Sapnap and get out of here.

“Tommy is going to Esempi.” Technoblade snarled and his features twisted in hatred at the nobles. They shrunk back and a few abandoned the scene under the General’s cruel gaze. “And he has full reason to. We have hurt and abandoned him more than he deserves and I want to be the first to say I’m sorry.” Technoblade turned to him now and the wings relaxed, the feathers dragging the ground.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, and I hope you find what you need and deserve in Esempi.” Technoblade muttered and something cracked in Tommy’s soul. Like a piece being put back into place rather than being wrenched out.

“Tech, you’re seriously going to let him leave?! He’s the Crown Prince, we won’t have an heir if he leaves!” Wilbur stated indignantly.

“Then why don’t we use Fundy? He’s about as old as Tommy was when he started cleaning up your mess!” Technoblade growled at his brother and Tommy’s heart tightened again at the thought of his nephew being pushed into the torture of a cycle he went through.

“No! You will not place Fundy under the crown!” Tommy protested and considered taking back what he said and finishing his duties. Becoming Emperor and keeping his ginger haired nephew safe and away from the responsibility of the crown.

“Theseus-” Philza took a step and Dream took three in front.

“That’s not his name, Your Majesty. He will be referred to as Prince Tommy of Esempi from now on. My brother has already approved this transaction and I will expect you to honor it as we will when you accept Ranboo into your status.” Dream said with a voice of such formality Tommy was back at the dinner when Ranboo claimed to be the secret pen pal.

“Ranboo is not-” Philza began again but Tommy stepped up to his ‘official’ brother now.

“If Ranboo is not to be accepted into your court then why did you invite him in? Why did you let the rumors grow so loud it was impossible to hear the truth?” Tommy sneered and felt an arm pull around his shoulders.

“We leave tonight Your Imperial Highness, and we hope you have good fortune in the future.” Dream smiled and when Tommy looked over he realized the mask was back in place. He was the only one who saw Dream smiling, teeth and all under that mask.

The whole royal family stood dumbfounded as Dream and Tommy went back to the palace and once their backs were turned to the group only then did Tommy realize he’d been holding his breath for so long.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna pass out.” He chuckled and let out an ear splitting laugh. It felt so good to have cut all his ties. The shock of Technoblade’s wings and Dream’s announcement of his acceptance into Esempi’s family buzzed in his chest and tingled through his bones. 

“Let’s finish getting you packed and then we’ll head for home. Esempi is going to love you.” Dream raised his mask and smiled broadly.

><><><><><><><><><><><>

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | ____ | (Finale)

#Butterfly Reign Au #butterfly reign #br!tommy #br!ranboo #br!tubbo #br!wilbur #br!wisp #br!philza #br!technoblade #br!fundy #br!dream

[honeyypotato]

The Girl in the Woods, Chapter 13: Family

Here's the link to the rest of the chapters!

Word count: 3,269

Content warnings for this chapter: Mentions of experimentation on children, nightmares, y/n has childhood trauma

AN:

I have a headcanon that Porco is a bad singer, but he really loves to sing. Everyone knows, so they just put up with it bc he's so happy singing why would u shut him up?

This chapter was a lil heavy but the next one's gonna be fun >:3

(Also, I'm gonna start putting content warnings on my chapters going forward, because there's gonna be smut and other things that probably need specific warnings, so watch out for those pls!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years had passed. You had gone into countless battles with the Marleyans, taking down entire cities and leaving nothing but destruction in your wake. You and Reiner were a strong team; you usually ended up hanging around him in battle, and the other Warriors had grown to think of you like family. 

Your nightmares hadn’t gotten any better, but you had used some money you had to gift Pieck earplugs for her to wear at night, which she was grateful to accept.

Except tonight was different. You were back in that odd, starry desert, bare feet sinking into the sand. Suddenly, you saw the figure of a young girl in the distance. You run towards her, hoping to ask her where you were. Instead, when you reach her, your surroundings change. The two of you are standing on the side of a main road leading out of Liberio. She says nothing, but points down the road into the countryside. Is that where my home is? Your eyes widen and you take off, running down the road. Your lungs begin to burn and your legs ache but you don’t stop until you see the little girl again, pointing in a different direction. You follow her finger, and run to the next girl. And the next, and the next. Until, you’re following her finger to a half-crumbled house–you wake up, covered in sweat.

You sit up, eyes round. You move and realize you've transformed into your titan form in your sleep. Something shifts next to your bed and you turn your head to the side to see Pieck, Reiner, Porco, and Zeke staring at you.

“I’ve never had a dream like that before.” You’re stunned. Reiner stares into your wide, red eyes and then moves to sit on the bed, taking your hand in his.

“Tell us about it.”

When you finish talking, your friends are looking at you like you’re a little crazy. Everyone except Zeke. “You remember where your childhood home was?” It was half a question and half a statement.

You nod at him.

“We have tomorrow off. We should go.” Zeke was dead set on going more than the rest of you, for some reason.

—------------------------------------------------

“Wait, do any of us know how to drive?” Pieck’s voice stops the rest of you in your tracks as you head towards the car the Commander had let you borrow.

“Uh, she has a point…” Porco gulped, eyes darting from you, to Reiner, to Zeke, and back. “Unless Miss. y/n has any more tricks up her sleeve she’d like to share with the rest of us?” He smirks at you.

“Porco, we’ve been over this. Paradis doesn’t have cars.” You roll your eyes.

“I can drive.” Zeke says quietly. “Now get in before Commander Magath changes his mind.”

The five of you had convinced him that you needed to get out of the city for at least a few hours, and he finally caved, agreeing that some fresh air would calm you all down. And Pieck definitely didn’t threaten to turn into the Cart Titan and watch him sleep through his window.

You pile into the vehicle and Zeke starts the engine. It had been so long since you had been in a car, and you rolled the window down to stick your head out a little. According to your dream, and some maps Zeke had grabbed, your house was about a two hour drive from the city. Porco and Pieck begin to sing a song they had heard on the radio, and pretty soon the whole car, even Zeke, had joined in. The five of you were on your third repeat of an old sea shanty when you suddenly gasp. 

You had spotted your home. 

“That one.” You voice cuts through Porco, who’s still singing.

Reiner notices how pale your face is and, finding your hand with his, gives it a squeeze. Zeke parks the car and you all get out, tiptoeing around the rubble. You run inside, with Reiner at your back. 

“Y/n!” He hisses, grabbing your arm. “You can’t just run in!”

“There’s obviously no one here–” You start.

“We’ve been on countless missions and you aren’t even thinking about mines or traps!” Reiner’s terrified, and you get it, but this was your home.

“Reiner, I spent 5 years of my life in this place, and my father probably lived here longer. Do you think we lived among booby traps?” You hear Porco snicker and you roll your eyes, knowing his mind came up with an immature joke.

You turn around and walk inside as if in a trance, looking around slowly. The parts of your house that hadn’t been destroyed were exactly the same as you left it.

“It looks like no one’s been here since my father and I left. Everything is in the same place.” You say quietly.

You walk upstairs; thankfully the stairs were still mostly intact. Your bedroom was on the second floor and Reiner has to crouch a little to fit through the doorway. 

Tears form in your eyes, but you’re silent as they run down your face. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand when the bookshelf across from your bed catches your eye and you remember the dream. You grab the left side and give it a tug, and a hollow click echoes through the silent room as you rotate the bookshelf like a door, stepping inside. The hidden room looks like Zeke’s lab in the research building on the base; sterile-white tiles and walls with fluorescent lights, a metal table at one end next to a chair with restraints too small for any adult you knew. At the other end of the room, a shelf filled with dusty books sat in a corner, and a rather oddly lavish armchair with a small table was angled next to it. 

You quickly crossed the room to the bookshelf. “Zeke, help me with these. What do these mean?” You called him over, you knew he had laboratory experience and some of the book titles were foreign to you.

You hand him a folder filled with papers, and he opens it when his face turns pale. “These are medical records, y/n.”

“Whose?” You peer around his shoulder as he flips through maybe a dozen or so files with pictures of different children, containing their lab results and test scores. Until he lands on the last one. 

“Y/n…is this you?” He shoves the folder at you with shaky hands. 

The young girl in the photograph matches every physical description of you. The shape of your eyes, the angle of your eyebrows, your nose, the tilt of your chin. You look older, sure. But there’s no mistake that it’s you.

“It says…I was born at the Liberio University Hospital.” You’re confused; your father told you your mother decided to give birth to you at home and she passed during labor. 

“They don’t let Eldians in there, y/n.” Reiner’s voice was soft. 

“Then why am I like this?” You whisper back at him. You sit down in the fancy chair in the corner and your friends gather around you as you flip through your folder, handing Zeke any papers with lab results for him to dissect. You find a birth certificate, and the first name matches yours.

“The man who you believed to be your father was a Marleyan scientist, Franz Schuerer. He was removed from the University 20 years ago for disobeying orders to cease his research on the effects of titan spinal fluid in Marleyans. If I had to guess, he never actually stopped his research, he just moved out here to do it in secret.” Zeke is piecing things together a little faster than the rest of you. 

“There are notes on the back of my medical chart.” You’re having a hard time believing what you’re reading, and the handwriting is really messy, which isn’t helping. You begin to read the notes out loud. 

“Y/n. Most successful subject to date. My theories about the completely pure spinal fluid of the first Founding Titan having the ability to alter the genetics of a non-Eldian seem to be true. Regrettably, she was rejected by the Marleyan military for her inability to change in size. Seems these men can’t look forward into a world where titans are no longer our biggest threat…” You trail off.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Reiner asks softly.

“Yes.” You clear your throat and continue reading.

“...I was instructed to bring her to Paradis or face death. Despite her inability to fully transform, they’re still afraid of her, but I’ve trained her well. She may just survive–and the people there are kind. Maybe someone will take her into their home. I think the higher-ups will have my head anyway, for what I’ve done. All the children I experimented on were stolen from their parents after birth in the University Hospital–I knew no one would want to hand their child over for something like this. At first, my success rate was low. The first four children died immediately after injection. The fifth presented a normal Eldian reaction–that one may have had forged documents. The sixth was unwell from the start and didn’t make it past age 3. Seven and eight died a month after the injection. Nine was a fluke, dead in one week. Ten and eleven were also successful, but their bodies were weak, and they only lasted until around age ten. Y/n is the twelfth, stronger than any other child I’ve raised. I’ve spent so many years perfecting this technique, and although I don’t believe there’s any more pure spinal fluid from the Founding Titan, I’ll note the conditions here if someone were to find these documents:

The dosage is precisely 300mg of spinal fluid, and it must be injected between the second and third vertebra in the neck. 

The spinal fluid must be from the very first Founding Titan. There probably isn’t any more in existence.

The child must be in between their fifth and sixth week after birth. 

The child must be of pure Marleyan descent.

I hope this information will someday save the world.”

You look up at Reiner. 

“We should burn everything here.”

There was a long pause.

“What?! This is cutting edge information!” Zeke was looking at you like you were crazy.

“Zeke–” He cuts you off.

“This could change the tide of the war! Marley would be unstoppable, even against titans! Look at you, he created the perfect soldier!”

“I-I’m really not.” Your voice is weak.

“Give me one reason why you aren’t.” He glares down at you, and you stand from the chair.

“I’ll give you multiple, Zeke!” You’re getting frustrated. How could he want this to happen to more people?

“Go for it!” He says angrily. Reiner shifts forward, ready to jump in front of you in case Zeke decides to throw some punches.

You step towards him.  

“I’m in pain! I’m in pain every second of the day. It feels like I’m burning alive. And when I transform, it feels like my skin is being torn off. My arms bleed day and night; they never fully heal. I don’t get a protective shell like the rest of you when you become titans. The bones in my body change! The only time I feel remotely normal is when I’m transformed, and then everything hurts just a little less. I’m starting to feel like I’m meant to stay that way and never turn back!” You didn’t realize you’d started sobbing. “I can hear and see twice as well as a normal person! I haven’t had a single uninterrupted night of sleep!” You take a shaky breath.

“What you see on the battlefield, and what I am, are two very, very different things, Zeke. And I, for one, never want another person to feel how I do every day. And what if other countries find this? Do you want to have continuous war where countries send drugged children who are constantly in pain off to die?! Is that the world you want to live in?! Because I sure as hell don’t!” You glare at him, a look of shock plastered across his face.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in pain, y/n?” Reiner moved in front of you to place his hands on your arms, staring into your eyes. 

“Quite honestly, I didn’t realize something might’ve been off until that night where you and Porco were arguing and I told you to shut up. You looked at me like I had two heads, and then I remembered the walls are thick concrete. No one else could hear you.” You sigh, staring at the ground.

Reiner stares at you for a moment. “Y/n’s right, we should burn everything here.”

“I agree.” Porco chimes in. He had been staring at the glassware in one of the cabinets that lined the wall, but he had turned his head and was glaring at Zeke out of the corner of his eye, his back facing the others. “I don’t want a thousand y/n’s attacking me the next time we invade a city, one is bad enough to deal with.” He smirks at you and you shake your head in both exasperation and amusement.

“On top of that, how would the Marleyans react if they heard they were basically the same as Eldians?” Pieck’s point shakes Zeke out of his trance and he deflates, knowing what she’s trying to say.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll admit it, you guys are right. It’s amazing what he did, but it’s not going to help our situation at all.” Zeke sighed. He was hoping to keep the information a secret within Marley, but once Pieck spoke about how the Marleyans would most likely react he knew she was right. It would only fuel their hatred of the Eldians and their families.

“We should do this quickly, before anyone finds us here. If anyone else knows about this we’re screwed.” Reiner hears the urgency in your voice and starts to build a fire. 

“Do you want your birth certificate, y/n?” Pieck is holding it. “You should bring it to Commander Magath and get that armband off.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” 

You fold the paper and put it in your pocket. Reiner had lit a small fire, and you dump the rest of the papers in your folder on the flames. Zeke and Porco begin throwing the books in the shelves onto the fire as well, and soon it was more of a bonfire. You stare at it, flames just barely touching the ceiling, when a hand slides into yours.

“Let’s go home, y/n.” Reiner’s voice was gentle in your ear. You nod, following him into your bedroom and down the stairs out of the house. The two of you turn back to see the entire upstairs of the house begin to ignite.

Satisfied that every last bit of information would be turned to ash, you climb in the car. No one spoke on the drive home. 

Back in your room, you had taken your birth certificate out of your pocket and were staring at it.

“You know your last name now, y/n. Do you want to find your parents?” You look up at the source of the voice to find Pieck standing in the doorway.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I think they may be better off believing I’m gone, than seeing what I am now.”

You pause.

“I’m gonna go show this to Commander Magath.” You say, but you don’t move.

“I can come with you, or I can grab Reiner if you want and he’ll definitely go with you.” She smiles at you.

“Thanks, Pieck, but I think this is something I’ve gotta do alone.” You flash a smile back and stand up, walking to where she was standing and giving her a soft hug. “You’re a really great friend, you know that? I’m glad to have you around.”

She hugs you back tightly. “I feel the same about you, y/n. I believe in you.” Her words instill some confidence in you that you thought you had lost when you figured out what had been done to you, and you walk into Commander Magath’s office proudly.

“Y/n. What’s the occasion?” He looks up from his paperwork.

“This is my birth certificate.” You falter for a second as he glares up at you. “I was born at the University hospital here, in Liberio. My parents brought me out of the country to raise me. I’m Marleyan.” You exhale, trying to calm your nerves.

The Commander takes the paper from you and studies it for what felt like forever.

“Well, y/n, this is either the best forgery I’ve ever seen or you’re truly a Marleyan. I’m gonna go with the latter, seeing as I know how awful your handwriting is.” He stands, walking around his desk to your left arm, and tears the armband in two.

“I never thought I would see this happen in my lifetime, kid. But you’re different, so good job, I guess. I’m too tired to wonder how the hell you got your powers as a Marleyan, so you got lucky by bringing this to me today. You’re not out of your contract with the military, though.” He wags a finger at you.

“Sir, even if I was allowed to walk off this base, I wouldn’t. My family is here now.” You smile at him.

He almost smiled back.

That night, you, Pieck, Reiner, and Porco sat in the room you and Pieck shared while you filled the other two in on what exactly your life had been like before you ran into Reiner, Bertholdt, and Ymir. 

“Shit, y/n. Why didn’t you want to tell us sooner? It’s been 3 years since you arrived in Marley.” Porco was looking at you with probably the softest expression you’d seen on his face since you met.

“Honestly, I was fine with people thinking I was just some random girl. But I want people to know that Marleyans are doing terrible things to even their own people. That scientist, Franz, was also Marleyan, and so were the ones who threw me out of the country.” You sigh. “We’re all just people, Porco. You guys are my family now, no matter what.”

Porco gives you an odd look and covers your hand with his. “We’re with you to the end, y/n. We’ve got each other’s backs.” 

You smile at him, knowing he meant what he said. Pieck crawls forward to give you a hug, and you laugh when Porco joins in, accidentally knocking you over. As you all lay there, you extend a hand to Reiner, who looked a little put out. 

“C’mon, big guy, join the hug!” He takes your hand a little reluctantly but you pull him in with some force. Eventually, he wraps his arms around you and Pieck, and you feel him chuckle softly in your ear.

You all slowly untangle yourselves from the group hug and let the two men go off to bed. Before he leaves, Porco turns to you.

“Hey, y/n?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry…for being an asshole to you when you first arrived. You’re cool.” He blushes a little.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re cool too. It’s fair; you didn’t know me at all.” He smiles down at you and you flash one back at him. “Have a good night, Porco.”

#reiner x reader #reiner braun #attack on titan #reiner brainrot #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner x y/n #shingeki no kyojin #aot #reiner x you #aot reiner #reiner braun x y/n #snk reiner #man I love pieck #tbh I also simp for porco #the girl in the woods #ngl sometimes I forget to edit my chapters so sorry if there's any errors

[woodchoc-magnum]

L*ne St*r Hate Watch 3x18

Disclaimer: as usual, don't read if you love the show, have a great day

Eddie Diaz! To sustain us:

LAST EPISODE HERE WE GO

Also I'm spoiled for the thing at the end but pretty much nothing else

Let's see how they turn Judd's storyline into Owen's storyline

Okay so Judd isn't in the elevator when the building collapses, he's talking to the absolute douchebag CEO guy

I was momentarily horrified thinking that we were cutting to a shot of Owen in bed with Amy Acker's character, but it turns out it's Lisa Edelstein in a flashback

Ohhh it was a 9/11 flashback – for a second I thought they were actually going to do a CGI shot of the plane going into the building but thankfully they didn't

Also to age Rob Lowe down they had to smear Vaseline on the lens of the camera and make the shot as soft as possible

There's another mass in Owen's lung, hopefully he dies

TK is upset that Carlos was updating his will, proving once again that TK is a fucking moron

And then they got into a fight about it

TK thinks the only reason he survived both his near death experiences is because he doesn't have a will, proving twice in less than five minutes that TK is a fucking moron

Grace knows that Judd is in the building

But we instantly cut to Judd and he's OKAY

10 bucks says the CEO dude gets crushed/smushed at some point in this episode

I will say that ain't no one do building collapses like the OG

Okay I might be wrong about the CEO guy, he's now actually showing signs of humanity by helping Judd

Here I thought he was a soulless monster

All right so… it's like 8.21 in the morning and I am still waking up, and I decided to do this now because I wanted to get this damn show over and done with, so I'm pretty sluggish right now but… my brain literally just went, "oh that's why they did the 9/11 reference at the start, because of the building collapse, and now Owen's lung cancer is back and he's going to almost die in this building collapse and it's like a full circle thing"

So sometimes my brain just takes a little while to catch up, but after 16 minutes of the episode it just clicked in, so we should be good now

Owen just said there's probably some pockets of gas left in the building which is almost definitely foreshadowing

Like I know he's not going to die, obviously, but it'd be fun if he did

Owen's going in ALONE

Marjan and Paul are literally just stuck up a ladder together doing nothing

Judd's OUT

Look this is the only thing we fucking care about right

Owen is still inside

Come on building, COLLAPSE

DO US ALL A FAVOUR AND COLLAPSE

Where's Billy when you need him, you know he could make that shit happen

OH MY GOD THE GAS POCKET THING AND THERE WAS AN EXPLOSION RIGHT IN OWEN'S FACE AND THERE WAS ANOTHER COLLAPSE

TK is registering absolutely no emotion

Owen is unfortunately still alive, everyone booed

Getting "Owen trapped in a mine" vibes

Imagine if zombie Tim turned up, that would be amazing

Is it bad if I fast forward this

No I won't

So he's been rescuing this dude – and I don't know what's happened because I wasn't watching, but I think Owen's either hallucinating or unconscious, because he's having a flashback to 9/11 and a guy he couldn't save

He's now talking to this 9/11 ghost about his cancer

Look I know this is a heavy fucking topic but we've been here for over ten minutes and it's so boring

Now he's waking up in a hospital bed?

But I saw in the preview that they were carrying him out – no this is a dream, Lisa Edelstein's back

I mean granted they kill her off but damn do they still give her stuff to do

Oh my god you guys I cannot begin to tell you how fucking BORING THIS FUCKING EPISODE IS

I genuinely want to fast forward

Oh there's the flashback and Vaseline filter again

Okay they found him in the rubble and he's unfortunately still alive

Disappointing.

Oh my god there's a fucking CHOIR SINGING

GIVE ME A BREAK

Way to turn an episode that could've been about them rescuing Judd into thirty minutes of Owen's fucking trauma

I mean this could've been tense and so much better but instead we got Owen man pain AGAIN

EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. EPISODE. IS. OWEN. FUCKING. MAN. PAIN

Ugh TK's here kill me now

Ok so Owen didn't tell TK about the new spot on his lungs and TK is upset/worried, I guess? It's hard to tell, everything is in a monotone

Oh I think this is the big TK and Carlos scene

TK's ready to make his will omg!

TK just asked Carlos to marry him

Carlos instantly tries to talk him out of it

If I roll my eyes any harder I might do so some serious damage

He said yes omg wow amazing this is so beautiful wow you guys everything we've always hoped and dreamed of right?

I maintain that Carlos can do better

Judd's got screws in his leg – lawsuit 2.0? LS edition? Let's go!

Owen's going to make Judd the captain of the 126 when he finally retires/dies, whatever comes first (hopefully death)

Oh there's some kind of engagement party ugggh

How is there still five minutes to go

Wow Marjan has lines in this episode

Owen and Tommy are having a little meeting

Owen has a fungal infection in his lung, damn it

THIS HAS BEEN THE WORST EPISODE EVER, what an incredibly disappointing ending to an incredibly disappointing season of mediocre television

I hate Rob Lowe and everyone and everything

Hopefully they take another huge hiatus, I need a break

In conclusion, a total wasted possibility in a season of boring bullshit, Judd and Grace continue to be the only reason I'm still watching this show, I hate Owen more than anything and I don't give a shit about TK and Carlos

See you for Season 4

EDDIE DIAZ OUT:

#lone star hate watch #thank god it's over for another season

[choicescounselingsc]

First Responders and Mental Health: Suicide Prevention Month

By a former first responder

I know, it’s almost the end of September. But, September is Suicide Prevention Month. It is a touchy subject. Especially for first responders. I know we have all dealt with the general public and either suicide attempts or they’ve been successful. I can’t count how many calls I’ve dealt with that were either attempts or successful. They are so sad and its depressing. You often wonder if they had just had someone to talk to or if someone would have just noticed that something was “off” with them. I have had at least 2 where it was a complete surprise. One such incident, this older gent. He was so pleasant. He had called us to come get him out of the floor because he had fallen. We tried to get him to go to the ER. He finally said he’d go. So we transported. He had made statements like, his wife was out of town. He didn’t want to leave his home. We kept reassuring him that he was going to just go get checked out. He was okay with that. Fast forward to the end of my double shift. We got a call out at his home. I didn’t see the note that was attached to his door we went in. I went down the hall, calling his name. There was a single light on in his house. I followed it and it lead to his bedroom. He was laying in the bed. Wet lung sounds. I went to him and tried to get him to talk to me. I pulled back the covers and discovered a weapon. Come to find out, he had contacted 9-1-1 to get us to come out. He told dispatch to send us out because he had fallen again. He said we had been so nice. Once he hung up the phone, he shot himself. We had gotten to him to soon as he was still breathing when we arrived. The note that was posted to the door was to his housekeeper. He wanted her to clean the house before his wife got home. He had prepped. He made “as little mess” as possible. He used pillows to keep the “mess” at bay. He also carefully chose a “less messy spot” to shoot himself. He had a plan. I beat myself up over it. If only I had listened more closely. I remember that call so vividly. Truthfully, there was nothing I could have done. He had made his mind up. He only told us that he didn’t want to leave his house. I know that many of you have had situations like this. This was before the Critical Stress Debriefing days. I was stressed beyond belief with that call and a few other suicides. What a lot of the “higher ups” fail to realize that those calls can be just as tough, if not worse, than other calls like the traumas out there. That’s why we must look after each other. Speaking of each other, how many of us have lost a co-worker to suicide? Here is a statistic for you from cssr.Columbia.edu. It is the Columbia Light House Project. In more than 1,000 firefighters, they found that nearly 50% had suicidal thoughts at some point in their career! About 16% reported one or more (!!) attempts. What?!? Survey of EMS 37% had contemplated and 6.6% have attempted it! Wow! That is way to many! In 2020, per USA Today, 116 police officers committed suicide were as there were 113 LODD. Though the number of police, fire and EMSnumbers could be higher due to the STIGMA! In the same article it said that EMS/Fire had 127 suicides in 2020 and in 2017 there were 126. (usatoday.com/higher suicide rate police firefighters mental health) Yall that is way to many!! 1 is too many. We need to help each other and break this stupid stigma. Get help. It is okay to not be okay. There are so many programs out there. Let me tell you, you are stronger than you think. There are people out there that know exactly how you feel. You are not alone. It may feel like it. That one buddy that is ‘to busy’ to stop and talk, find another one. There are numbers to call. There are plenty of people out there that want to talk to you. Please, please reach out. You will be missed by someone!! You are stronger than you think. You just need to prove it to yourself. 9-8-8. Call it. I understand that the weight of the world could be on you. You need to call 9-8-8 and let someone help you relieve that weight. That burden.

I’ve talked about it before, contact your HR and get your EAP to give you some free sessions. Its confidential. If you are in South Carolina, contact us here at Choices Counseling. 803-851-4049. We would love to help you, to listen to you and give you some tips to ease you on your journey. If you are out of the area, please call 9-8-8 and get your local resources. EAP can help you find a resource as well. You don’t have to fight alone anymore. Please take care of yourself, mentally, physically, and emotionally. You are loved and someone out there would miss you terribly. By Marie B. Suicide Hotline: 9-8-8

SAMHSA: 1-877-SAMHSA-7 (1-877-726-4727)

#mental health #mentalheathawareness #life #stress #law enforcement #ems #fire department #first responder #firefighter #police #paramedic #EMT

[helliontherapscallion]

Lost Time (The Ashes of Yourself Part 2)

Part 1     Part 3    Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts/ideation, swearing, daddy/abandonment issues

Word count: 3,879

You and Techno stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, both of you not knowing what to say to each other. So much was left unsaid between you two throughout your childhoods and the past four years that you didn’t know where to even start. You supposed a simple ‘how are you?’ would suffice, but that’d be too simple, far too simple for not talking to each other in literal years. But you couldn’t just say ‘hey, I’m incredibly jealous that you are Dad’s favorite and I totally didn’t send you my suicide note that you may or may not have seen’, that’d be way too much trauma dumping for your taste. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you chose to sheepishly grin at him and awkwardly wave. 

“Heh uh, how’re you…?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.

You watched as he furrowed his brows slightly before he hesitantly gave you a small wave with his gargantuan pink hand. “...I’m doin alright. You?”

“I’ve seen better days.”

“Right…”

An awkward silence fell over you two as you glanced down at your bloodied hands. “Sorry bout the blood. It won’t really stop until I stop moving.”

He shrugged, “that’s fine. I’ve bled everywhere in this house. Nothing that won’t come out.”

“Alright then.”

You wanted to crawl into a pit and just let yourself die, you hated this awkward atmosphere you created. Your mind scrambled to find something to say to the man other than a stupid ‘alright then’. You haven’t even seen him in four years, surely you would be able to find something to talk about. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard him clear his throat.

“I uh got some clothes for you. They’re Tommy’s old clothes from when he stayed with me during his exile. I don’t know if they’ll fit, but I’m guessing that they’re better than the wet ones you’re wearing.”

When he saw you wince when you tried to stand up, he rushed to your side and helped you stand up. You could feel the backs of your knees start to drip blood. “Do you have any spare lava?”

His hands paused on your upper arms, “yes, but why would you need it?”

“It kinda heals me. I mean, just enough that my skin stops cracking open and bleeding everywhere.”

“Why don’t we just take you to a lava lake in the Nether?”

You glanced out the window at the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and being whisked off to other places by the harsh wind. You shuttered, remembering what it felt like to be fully engulfed in water. “Water hurts. I don’t want to get burnt out again.”

“Right, I’ll go get a few buckets full. Stay here,” with that, he ushered you to sit in front of the fire once again and draped the large blanket over your shoulders again. You could hear him move to another room and rustle around what you presumed was a chest before you heard his heavy footsteps walking behind the couch. You could hear the billowing of the wind when he opened the door before it was cut off by the door closing. 

You leaned forward and put your hands in the fire, relishing in the feeling of the flames melting away the charred skin slightly. The flames licked and caressed your dark skin slowly giving you more feeling back in the damaged tissue. As you were turning your hands over the flames, you thought about your voluntary near death experience just about an hour before. 

The thought of the ocean finally taking you and dragging your charcoaled corpse into its depths never to be seen again was alluring. After feeling the intense pain and the suffocation that came with chucking yourself into the ocean when you’re part blaze was definitely a deterrent, but you just had to push through the pain. This was something you’d dreamt of doing since you were fifteen and you’d be damned if you were going to let pain stop you. 

You know you felt sort of… grateful that Philza saved you when you were laying on that beach, but now that you had time to reflect on what happened, you felt resentful that he did. Of course he’d take away the only good thing you had going on in your life, he was full of audacity and impudence when you were a kid. He hasn’t changed at all much to your disappointment. You shouldn’t have expected him to change in the first place, that was just something that you knew in the back of your mind would never happen. A large part of you craved his approval and affection, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Your thoughts were cut off by someone pulling you back gently from the fire. “I got the lava. Uh, I can set up an area for you downstairs with netherrack.”

“No, you don’t have to, I just have to put it on my joints for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you want to, uh, fully cover yourself?”

“I can hold off until the snowstorm dies down. It’s nothing too major.” You dipped your hands into the large bucket of lava and sighed in relief, “that’s much better, thank you Technoblade.”

“It’s no problem, but you literally just almost died. How is that something that’s ‘not major’?”

“I’m used to… well, this,” you took a hand out of the lava and gestured to your stone covered arm. “It’s just more than I’m used to. Kinda uncomfortable, but I’ll live.”

“What do you mean you’re used to it? You don’t live by water do you?”

“Yeah, I live by the ocean so I’m bound to get a little charred. No big deal,” you took your hands out of the bucket, shook the excess lava off, and stuck your elbows in. You looked at your now dully glowing hand and wiggled your fingers. There were more blackened scars etched into your skin on your joints, but you didn’t care.

“Heh? Why the hell would you live by an ocean?” 

You wove your hands nonchalantly in the air, “I always liked how the water looked when the sun set. The way that the pinks and yellows would reflect and bounce off the waves? Breathtaking.” You also lived by the ocean so that you had an easy way out of living, but you weren’t about to tell him that. Too much trauma dumping.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Have you ever seen the sun setting over the ocean?” You rose a brow at the piglin hybrid sitting on the couch. 

“Well, no but-”

“Then you can’t knock it till you try it. I’ll take you to my old place after I can take a proper lava bath. You won’t regret it, promise.”

“Still, you’re literally made of fire. Look what happened to you… Er, speaking of, how’d this happen?” He looked you up and down inquisitively with his red eyes. 

You sighed as you took your elbows out of the lava and dipped your feet into the buckets. “...Do you still have your communicator?”

You watched as his floppy ear flicked and his eyebrow rose at you, “...Yes, but I only talk to Dad. Why, did you leave me a message?” Before he could stand up to grab his communicator, you stopped him with a hand on his shin. “No, I didn’t. I was just wondering.”

He didn’t look convinced, “...tell me what happened. Were you pushed?”

Your shoulders tensed up against your will before you forced them to relax. “I fell in, got too close to the edge.”

“You’re so lucky Dad was already at your house, you could’ve died. How could you be so careless?” 

You only responded with a blaze-like frustrated grunt that rumbled in the back of your throat and removed your feet from the buckets. Picking up one of the buckets, you took a swig of the lava. The viscous liquid crawled slowly down your throat and soothed your burned esophagus and stomach. Clearing your throat, you looked over to your estranged brother. He was looking at you with disgust, his snout scrunched up slightly and his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“What?” Your voice sounded less strained and scratchy. Overall, it felt better to speak.

“Your- your feet were just in there. That’s disgusting.”

You blew out a puff of smoke and watched as it drifted to the ceiling, “my feet were just in water, remember? They’re clean. And besides, I swallowed and inhaled a lot of water so I needed it. I mean, my lungs are still stone, but there’s nothing I can do about it except wait it out.”

“That’s still gross. Wait, can you not drink water?”

“No- well technically I can, but it hurts. Gimme one sec.”

He was quiet as he watched you take a deep breath and dunk your entire head into the lava bucket you weren’t drinking from. His youngest sibling was… strange, but he found that he enjoyed your company so far. The only company he’s had at his cabin recently was his brothers and dad, which burned him out slightly with their big personalities. You were as awkward as he was and that was refreshing. But he couldn’t help but feel guilty after hearing the majority of yours and Philza’s argument. Now that he thought back on his childhood, the majority of his memories were of him and Philza. He didn’t have many negative memories past his adoption, and that was because he spent all of his time adventuring with Philza. He did everything with his adoptive father and absolutely nothing with his siblings. He knew nothing about Wilbur, well Ghostbur now, or Tommy until they stayed with him during Tommy’s exile. He’s never talked to you or spent any time with you before, and he wanted to get to know who you were. He wanted to make up for lost time.

After you were under for a while, he started to worry that you drowned yourself. Just as he was about to pull your head out of the bucket with a hand close to your forehead, you slowly removed your head from the lava and held it over the bucket so that the excess would drip off from you. Panting slightly, you sat up fully and wiped your eyes clean of the lava. You could hear some rustling in front of you so you opened your eyes to see your brother holding out clothes to you. 

“Go change, I’ll make dinner. There’s a spare room upstairs, second door on the left. You can stay there for now.”

You hesitated before you took the clothes from him, “I… Thank you Techno.” You weren’t expecting him to be so kind to you, he was known as the blood god after all. He was ruthless when he battled, leaving thousands without families. You saw him a couple of times when you were younger coming home with Philza covered in blood with a malicious expression on his face. That always made you try to avoid him; not that you had any difficulty doing that, he was never home. 

He curtly nodded before he turned to walk into where you assumed was the kitchen. You trudged up the stairs and tiredly drug your feet down the hallway towards the second door on the left. When you opened the door, you were pleasantly surprised. You didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t this. It was simplistic, yet it looked like a professional decorated it.

The bed looked incredibly comfortable and soft with a large white comforter draped over the top. At both sides of the headboard, twin chests sat underneath double hung windows with wooden frames that matched the spruce planks that made up the walls. You were sure that once the relentless snowstorm stopped you would be able to see a spruce forest in the distance. Lanterns hung at the far corners of the room opposite of where the bed sat. Glancing at the opposite wall, you saw a framed portrait of a nether fortress. You assumed that it was the nether fortress on the other side of his portal. If you squinted, you could see orange specks that you assumed were blazes. 

After you got dressed, you were pleasantly surprised to see that Tommy’s clothes fit you. Despite the slight bagginess of the pants and the sleeves of the jumper hanging halfway past your hands, they fit relatively well. Humming in satisfaction, you hung up your wet clothes to dry and made your way downstairs following the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes. Your mouth watered at the smell, it’s been a while since you’ve eaten an actual meal. You’d just been surviving on an apple a day with the occasional potato when you had some leftover from making homemade vodka. 

You walked into the kitchen and looked at your brother standing at the stove, the stove looked miniscule compared to his seven and a half foot tall form. That man was a giant and you wouldn’t be lying if his height alone didn’t intimidate you slightly. If he wanted, he could grab your entire face with his hand. Various light pink scars decorated his muscular arms that poked out from the rolled up sleeves of his blouse. He wasn’t wearing his huge fluffy cloak, instead it was draped over the back of one of the chairs at the large wooden dining table. Every part of your body wanted to take it, wrap yourself up into a blaze hybrid burrito, and take the best nap you’ve ever had. His corseted form moved gracefully around the kitchen grabbing various spices and herbs. 

You saw his ears twitch before he moved his massive head  to look back at you, you could see the corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. “They fit you, that’s good. Take a seat, dinner's almost ready.” With that, you took a seat at the table. You felt like a child again, the table was huge, the tabletop coming up to your lower chest. The table and chairs were made of what looked like dark oak wood. The wood was carved intricately with complex patterns etched into the frame and the back of the chairs. 

You eyed the cape draped over the chair next to you. It was a deep royal red with black speckled white fur lining the border of the fabric. If you looked closely, you could see that the pendant that connected the two ends was made of gold and had a diamond encrusted center. It looked incredibly soft, it would be so easy to just reach out with a finger to pet it. Your brother wouldn’t notice if you did it quick enough so that you could touch it before he turned around. When you gathered the courage to touch the cloak, you reached out with a slightly shaking hand to pet the fur, watching Technoblade the entire time. 

Everytime he would move to grab a spice, you would quickly retract your hand and try to act as innocent as possible only to try again after he didn’t turn around again. Just as you finally touched the fabric, you were in awe with how soft it was. It was like petting a newborn puppy but better. You truly couldn’t put into words how soft it was. 

You were snapped out of your trance by a small chuckle, “soft isn’t it?” You jumped, quickly retracting your hand and smacking your head against the back of your chair in the process. You could feel your cheeks heat up more than they usually did, you could see the glow of orange intensify at the bottom of your vision. Your brother was staring at you with amusement, his mouth quirked up in a small smile. He was carrying two plates full of steak and potatoes, putting one in front of you before walking to sit opposite of you. 

“Uh, yeah. It- it’s really soft.” 

“I got it from a nation thousands of blocks from here, it wasn’t easy to get. Those guards were not happy to see me stealing from their king.” He chuckled before he started to eat his food. 

“Is that where you got the crown too?”

“No, Dad got it for me as a going away present when I moved out… You’ve grown up so much since I’ve last seen you. I remember when you barely reached my waist and now you’re only about a foot and a half shorter than me.” 

“You’ve gotten taller also, more scars too.”

“You as well. Are all those from water?” 

“Yeah, it only scars when I crack the stone on my skin though.”

“Ouch. So like you get scars whenever you move?”

You shrugged, “basically.” Turning to your plate, you struggled with not wolfing down the entire thing in one go. You didn’t want to have your brother get the impression you had bad table manners. Wilbur raised you better than that. When you took a bite of the stake, you moaned slightly at the taste. Quickly swallowing your mouthful, you looked at your brother with wide eyes. “Ender Tech, where’d you learn to cook? It’s delicious.”

He gave you a small bashful smile and shrugged, “when you’ve been living alone for this long you pick up on a few things.”

“I’ve been living alone for about a year now and I still can’t cook.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “well what do you eat then?”

“Just an apple a day, maybe a potato too if I have any to spare.”

He narrowed his eyes, “how the hell are you still alive? That’s hardly enough.”

You blankly stared at your plate, “I’ve been asking myself that everyday, things aren’t… amazing living alone. Uh, let’s talk about happier things. I wanna get to know you.”

He stared at you for a while before he sighed, “fine, but we’re talking about this later. How do you wanna go about getting to know each other?”

“It’s gonna be hard cuz we have like seventeen years to catch up on, but I think we can do it. Let’s… let’s play the favorites game. We take turns naming a category and we both say what our favorite thing in that is. I’ll start, what’s your favorite type of mythology? Like Greek, Egyptian, Norse…”

His eyes lit up at the mention of mythology, “I like Greek mythology. I can talk for hours about it.”

“Nice! I personally like Norse mythology better, we have to exchange myths sometime.”

“My turn, what’s your favorite myth?”

You matched his excitement, “I really like the Ragnarok myth. The fact that the gods know of their impending doom and destruction and are actively working towards it is- is just really intriguing. What’s yours?”

You both abandoned your meals as your conversation diverged into telling each other various myths from your respective favorite mythologies. Your favorite ones he told you were the tales of Orpheus and Eurydice, Persephone and Hades, and Psyche and Eros. You were a sucker for romance even if the thought of you being in a relationship was something you were uncomfortable thinking about. Romance stories just made you happy to see people finding comfort and fulfillment in each other. You told him more about Ragnarok, the creation of Mjolnir, and the murder of Baldur. 

Before you two knew it, hours passed by. Your untouched dinners grew cold and the clock struck midnight startling both of you out of your story telling. You both looked at the grandfather clock then back at each other in shock, “we’ve been talking for four hours Tech.”

“Yeah, we did. It- it was nice talking about mythology. Usually people get bored when I talk about it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Ender, I know. Why don’t they find it as interesting as we do? It’s been a while since I’ve had someone to talk to, it’s nice.”

“We better go to bed, we can just eat a bigger breakfast tomorrow before we take you to the Nether and your house. You probably want to sleep in your own bed.”

You laughed nervously, “yeah about that… I don’t really have a bed anymore. Or an actual house for that matter.”

“The fuck happened?”

“I may have burnt it down accidentally.”

He was silent for a bit before he looked at you suspiciously. “Are you gonna burn my house down?” And there’s the thing you hated most when you told people of your lineage and abilities. They always believe that you’re a being of destruction and inferno. They always grow to not trust you around them or their possessions fearing you would burn them to a crisp. You cursed your biological parents daily for giving you these genes.

You shrunk in on yourself slightly, “no, I’d never do that to you. I’m in control as long as I keep my emotions in check. Can’t get too excited, scared, or happy. I just can’t do anything extreme and my temperature stays low.” 

He grunted, nodding in satisfaction. “We probably should get to sleep soon if we wanna get stuff done before the family reunion.”

“I forgot about that… Have you met the kid Phil’s gonna adopt?”

He drew in a long breath into his nose and huffed it out of his mouth. “Yeah, his name’s Ranboo. And he’s actually only about half a year younger than you are. I don’t know how to feel about him yet, but he seems like he has good intentions.”

You drug a hand through the flames idly flickering on your head, “is Phil seriously gonna adopt another kid? I don’t think it’s a good idea for him.”

“That’s what I thought, I don’t need any more orphans running around here. You, Tommy, and Wilbur are more than enough. We can talk more about this in the morning.”

With that, you picked up your plates and took them to the kitchen. Before you could turn on the water faucet, a hand on your shoulder stopped you. “I’ll get it. You can’t be around this stuff.”

“A little water won’t hurt me. It’s the least I could do, you made dinner.” 

“A little water will hurt you. Go to bed, I’ll handle this. It’s only two dishes.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but it snapped shut as soon as he gave you a warning look. “Go to bed (y/n).”

“...Aright, thank you for doing that. I’ll see ya in the morning.”

He grunted as you walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the guest room. You walked straight to the bed and plopped down onto the surface. You felt sort of bad that you were rubbing soot off onto the white comforter from your still charcoaled skin, but it was nothing that you couldn’t clean in the morning. The bed was extremely comfortable, a stark contrast to your old one. Your old one had lumps and some exposed bedsprings sticking out of the fabric. With the weight of the heavy comforter and the plush mattress, you were out like a light.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

 @crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @misfortunatem00n  @hee-hee-haw  @bi-narystars  @akikko-yataro  @snapple311  @jo171718  @alex--awesome--22  @cinnamonmochi  @waterstrawberry  @jefferyepsteindidntkillhimself  @imamusicalnerd  @fo-love  @sylumarts  @theshitinmytrunk  @rinzyx05  @wasteofspacze  @bands-are-amazingly-addicting  @im-a-depressed-gay  @charlotte-is-missing  @s-n1428  @lifestylesleep  @dame-sunflowers  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @aestheticpkmntrainer  @emma-the-duck17  @pek0ra  @wreny24  @willow404  @shiningsunrises  @vanhakirja  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @soulless42  @giavanna

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #ghostbur x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #sibling reader #platonic #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide attempt #tw: swearing #tw: abandonment issues #tw: daddy issues #tw: depression #tw: blood

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

#chenrich fanfic #send me chenrich prompts #i dare you #chenrich #alex chen #alex chen × steph gingrich #steph gingrich

[agent--swan]

Close to Home

In which the reader interrogates a suspect and is reminded of some shit.

One of these days I’ll write a decent Criminal Minds fic.

Well, I’ve got some personal bullshit going on, so here! Have a self-indulgent angst fic! As if I haven’t written enough of these already. (See: @swan--writes.) You can also find this fic on AO3.

Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse, all offscreen, Hotch is an angsty boy who cares about his team, show-typical violence, Swan-typical language

Words: ~1,420

Other Stuff: reader is gender neutral but was raised as a daughter, you could read this as Hotch x Reader but it could easily be read as platonic

The first time Hotch noticed was on a case.

He wishes that the first time he noticed wasn’t on a case.

He wishes that it had happened on a relaxed day, when there was nothing going on but consults and reports and accounts and logging. He wishes that the rest of the team had been so busy with paperwork that they wouldn’t notice him pulling you into his office to sit down and talk about it. In retrospect, even he could admit that there were benefits to not being at Quantico, and therefore not having a private office to pull you into. There was more time to think about what he wanted to say – to be gentle.

You were on a case somewhere in the Midwest, but neither of you would remember exactly where even two months after it was over. The unsub was attacking teenaged girls. The unsub’s type was specific: ages between fourteen and seventeen, brown hair, brown eyes, most of the girls had freckles, and all of them were chubby. That seemed important to the unsub. It made you see red. You only had one survivor – your only material witness – but she was holding back, feigning memory loss. Morgan was certain that the cognitive troubles she was having weren’t genuine, but he had no way of proving it. That was his pet project while you were on the case.

Reid was on the geographic profile as always. JJ had her hands full with the media circus, teenaged girls always got extra attention. Rossi was leaning pretty hard on the principal of the school that all three of your victims had attended, along with your one attempted victim. Prentiss was covering the guidance counselors. The school had three. She had her hands full. You did not envy her.

That left you to speak with the mother of the attempted victim. Hotch had asked you to handle her before the jet even landed, and you had readily agreed. It was the first time he had handed you your own angle since you’d joined the team just a few months earlier, and you felt more than capable. You were good with mothers, Hotch knew that.

Hotch had never tried to limit your role in investigations, not even in the beginning. He knew that you were capable when you joined the team, and he saw that you were a fast learner. He wasn’t cautious with you, didn’t watch you too closely, didn’t take you under his wing. Hotch let you do your thing and facilitated where necessary. It wasn’t often necessary, you fit right in.

So, Hotch asked you to talk to the mother, and you thought nothing of it. Until you started asking her questions.

It was subtle at first. She was defensive of her daughter, and defensive of her parenting. You understood that, it wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was the way she seemed to interpret your questions. “Why did you insist she only apply to in-state schools?” became, in her mind, “Why are you holding her back?” “Why do you limit her social life?” became, “Why are you isolating her?” The less accusatory you tried to sound, the more her hackles raised. It wasn’t entirely unjustified, every time you walked out of the interrogation room you learned something new about the way she had held her daughter back or isolated her.

You started leaving the mother in the interrogation room by herself for longer and longer stretches of time, though never an unprofessional length of time. You were careful about that. It was just that you were finding it harder and harder to catch your breath. The tinnitus in your left ear seemed to be growing steadily worse, and you couldn’t force your hands to stop shaking. That wasn’t when Hotch noticed it, though. He asked if you were alright once but dropped it when you told him you were.

Finally, Rossi cut the principal loose and Prentiss came back to the station. You were in interrogation when the others realized who the unsub was.

Surprise, surprise, it was the mother of the survivor.

Morgan had been right. Your survivor did remember who attacked her and was terrified to admit that it had been her mother. In the survivor’s mind, her mother was a huge, tyrannical figure who could talk her way out of anything. Even a murder investigation.

The rest of the team gathered around the one-way mirror and watched as you and the mother of the survivor – as you and the unsub – zeroed in on each other. Reid wondered aloud if they should intervene, but Hotch insisted on waiting. Hotch watched you closely. Later, he would wonder if he had been watching you more out of interest than a genuine belief that you could get a confession out of this unsub. He would feel badly about that.

You were standing. The unsub was seated. You were leaned over her and shouting. She was watching you with venom in her eyes, and though you held firm, Hotch notice the way you were pressing your hands into the table. The way you slid photographs toward her instead of picking them up and dropping them in front of her; a more aggressive move that any of the rest of the team would have used.

“You couldn’t stand it, could you?” you asked while the unsub openly glared at you, her jaw set, her expression stern. “You couldn’t stand the idea that your daughter would never be you. She was never going to stay at home and be mommy’s perfect little helper, she was never going to forget about the pain you caused her. You gave her everything?” You shook your head. “Well, she took it, and she learned how to be a decent goddamn human, and instead of letting her grow and maybe, I don’t know, being proud of her? You insisted–” you slammed the table right beside a photograph of some of your survivor’s worse injuries “–on making her pay for your bullshit.”

You were shouting right in the unsub’s face when she lunged with an enraged cry. The team moved as one to back you up.

The unsub managed to scratch your face before you could react. You managed to get her hands behind her back and pressed forward against the wall by the time Morgan and Prentiss reached you.

“Get her out of here!” Hotch commanded.

“After everything ungrateful little leech put me through, she got exactly when she deserved,” the unsub spat.

Hotch didn’t spare the unsub more than half a glance, he just went straight to you. You had never heard his voice so soft as when he asked if you were alright. He moved to wipe away some of the blood trickling warmly down your face, but you pulled away before he could and insisted you were fine. Of course you did.

The case ended there, four victims deep but one still alive. It was a relative victory and the team treated it as one. They chatted comfortably on the ride back, but not you. You curled up on the couch at the back of the jet, facing away from everyone. You didn’t have a book, you didn’t have your headphones in. You just lay there with your eyes closed, fighting tears that you tried very hard to blame on your migraine. Your head killed; your heart hurt. As horrific as parents hurting their children always was, there was something about this case – something about a mother and a daughter – that was more painful, more personal, and hit even closer to home for you.

You couldn’t help thinking about how the unsub had killed three people but hadn’t killed her own daughter. You wondered what that meant. You wondered if it meant anything.

You stayed still at first when you felt someone sit down at your feet. They didn’t move for a long time, and when you finally gave in and opened your eyes, you saw Hotch. He looked at you with more concern injected into his normal frown, and there was something in his face that was gentler than usual. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to comfort you. He just watched you, watched the tears gather at the corners of your eyes, watched as one made its way down your cheek like blood dripping from a wound. You knew you looked miserable, but you watched him right back, and you knew he understood. He did.

.

.

Please reblog if you’re comfy with it

If there’s any interest I’ll make a tags list

#criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x self insert #criminal minds x you #hurt/comfort #angst #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x gender neutral reader #hotch x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #hotch x self insert #self insert #tw trauma #tw emotional abuse #tw psychological abuse #tw abuse #mine

[cordria]

Fixing Mistakes - DP

Danny groaned and curled up in a ball, very suddenly awake. His head hurt, his leg sparkled sharp and painful, and he felt oddly sticky. “Ow, ow, ow, ow,” he hissed, a few swear words working their way through his teeth as he kicked his brain into trying to think through what was going on.

His eyes crept open, studying his surroundings. Dark. Quiet. Bars.

Bars?

His eyes opened just a touch more, turning his head. Bars on all sides. He was in a cage.

Memory flooded back into his brain - of the school bell ringing, of walking through the park with Sam, of cold rushing down his back, of an unfortunately successful ambush by the ghost world’s most annoying hunter. “Damn it, Skulker,” he whispered.

Having determined himself to be alone in the room full of cages, Danny sat up and slowly pushed fingers through his hair, searching for the source of the pain. It was from right over his left ear, a dull throbbing that was definitely sore, but no blood. Head trauma. Something that would heal with time, nothing to be done about it for now. 

He turned his attention to his leg, noting with a frown all the glowing blood smeared across the bottom of the cage. He poked and prodded at his leg, locating the worst of the damage: a huge slash down the side of his right leg. Almost as long as his fingers could spread, it was already mostly sealed over - thank Clockwork for not being knocked out until he was in ghost form. In human form, the blood loss would have killed him. 

The fact that a slash that big was almost sealed over made him wrinkle his nose. That had to have taken hours and hours. Perhaps overnight. He’d been out a long time.

He sighed. “I was having such a good day, too.” 

Although the cage wasn’t big enough to stand up in, he tried putting his foot on the ground and putting weight on his leg. Would he be able to stand once he’d gotten out of the cage? The pain sharpened, making him gasp and collapse. “Nope, nope, nope,” he whispered. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, don’t do that again.”

Blood started to ooze from the gash again. He’d broken open the scab. 

With a scowl, he pushed and pulled himself, maneuvering until he was leaning up against the door. From the fizzy feeling against his skin, knew they wouldn’t be something he could phase through. He’d have to find a different way out. He reached a hand out through the bars to pull at the padlock, studying it. It was the same type of padlock Skulker always used for locking his cages closed. The tiniest of smiles curled the corner of Danny’s lips. 

It wasn’t quite true that ghosts couldn’t learn. Skulker had learned new hunting techniques over the last eighteen months. Skulker had learned to keep Danny in human-proof cages. But ghosts learned so very slowly, and struggled with putting together facts they couldn’t see. Skulker knew Danny could get out of his cages - but, never having witnessed Danny perform the feat, couldn’t figure out how. And so he kept doing the same thing over and over.

Danny squirmed and moved around, digging a little box out of one of his pockets. Sam had gotten it for him for Christmas last year, along with lessons as to how to use it. Lock-picking was a skill Danny had assumed would be difficult, but it turned out to be hilariously easy, if a bit time consuming. Danny made sure he kept the kit with him.

It took longer than he’d hoped to open the lock. The pain from his leg kept distracting him and the hit he’d taken to his head was making it hard to focus. But he eventually placed all four of the tumblers, gave them a twist, and the lock fell open. 

He grinned, short and sharp, and worked the lock back through the rings on the cage, catching it before it could hit the ground. “Screw you, Skulker,” he whispered, pushing open the cage door and floating himself out, putting the lock into his pocket. He was careful to keep his leg from hitting the ground - even the smallest movements sent sharp shards into his mind. “I’m keeping this as a souvenir.”

Just before he was going to leave, Danny heard a sound from the corner. He tensed, instantly assuming Skulker had been hiding. The glow around Danny kicked up a notch with his anxiety, and he twisted around.

Nothing?

His hands came back down, letting the tenseness fade away. He floated forwards a few steps, noticing a cage far into the darkest corner of the room. There was the faintest glow coming from inside - it was almost like the afterglow of looking at a bright light for a moment too long. Too faint to be a ghost in any reasonable shape. “Hello?” he whispered.

“Mind if I borrow your lock pick set? I lost mine.”

Danny hesitated. The voice was very… human? And didn’t sound at all in pain or sick. The scratchy voice was also not bothering to whisper. “Who are you?” Danny asked, floating closer.

“I’m me, obviously.”

“Helpful,” Danny muttered, drawing up just close enough that if something were to lunge and reach through the cage, it wouldn’t be able to grab him. An odd scent tinged the air, making Danny’s nose wrinkle. He held up a hand, palm towards the thing in the cage, and upped the power flowing through his hand. The glow kicked up and, like a flashlight, illuminated the contents of the cage.

It was a human male, raising a hand to block his eyes from the glow. Red-orange hair raggedly pulled back into a ponytail and a beard that looked hacked short with a knife. Perhaps in his twenties, skinny and tall, and dressed in layers of rags. He had a cloak-looking blanket wrapped around him, and calloused feet wrapped in cloth that left his toes hanging out. Dried, reddish-colored flowers dangled everywhere from his clothes. Danny blinked at the man, startled. “You’re human.”

Teeth glittered as the man smiled - an easy, pleasant smile. At least two of the teeth were missing. “Mostly, anyways.” The scar-covered hand lowered. Eyes that were too bright and green to belong to a human peered at him, blinking against the light. “Lock picks? I’d like to get out of here before the hunter comes back.”

“Skulker’s annoying with his cages,” Danny agreed, lowering his hand and the light. His brain wasn’t working quite right. This… human?... was something like him? ...How? “What happened?” 

“I was just a tad too slow. Lock?”

Danny glanced over his shoulder, noted the still-quiet room, and settled his body gently back down at the ground. It took a moment for the world to stop spinning from the pain. Then he opened up the little box of picks and started to work on the lock. It was easier from this side, where he could see what he was doing.

“How did it come to be that a ghost knows how to pick a lock?” the human asked.

“This ghost gets hunted a lot. Not the first time I’ve seen the inside of Skulker’s cages,” Danny muttered. “Friend got me the lock pick set.”

“A human lock pit set.”

Danny hummed. “And how did it come to be a human in the ghost zone?” There was a soft click. He twisted and yanked the lock off.Danny floated back up in the air, fighting a wince of pain, and nodded. 

“Very long story. Too long for telling inside this lair.” The human pulled himself out of the cage, unwinding his long limbs and stretching upright. From this close, Danny could see the young man was incredibly lean and tall. Too thin. Too tall. Even though Danny was floating, the man’s head was on level with his. Something was off with this human, and it made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck raise. 

This close, Danny could see the dried flowers hanging around his neck were blood blossoms. Before Danny could float backwards and out of the way, the man reached out and clapped Danny on the shoulder, still with that same easy grin. “Thank you for the rescue.”

“Do you…” Danny hesitated, thinking about the fact that the man was a human and they were on a floating island haunted by a hunting ghost, “need a lift? Like, to get somewhere?”

“Away from here would be nice.” The human’s smile faded just a bit. He was studying Danny. “I’m not a flyer. I’d appreciate a lift to… anywhere, really, that’s not right here.”

Danny held out his hand. “You got a name, human?”

The man grabbed his wrist, his fingers burning hot against Danny’s cold skin. “Flynn.”

The feel of the blood blossoms tingled down his arm, an interesting counterpoint to the drums beating against his brain and the stabbing pain in his leg. Danny lifted the human off the ground and took the shortcut through the window, back out into the glowing green of the ghost zone. “Nice to meet you, Flynn. I’m Danny.”

#Danny Phantom #fixing mistakes #I woke up this morning wanting to write #for once #I've had an incredibly sucky fall. #Very much sucks. #Quick writing.

[scarlvtbitch]

It’s all coming back to me now

summary: reader and bucky dated until bucky broke up with her, what happens when they see each other after five years?

read part 2 here

You and Bucky had met while he was on the run. He wasn’t planning on having anything, with anyone, he felt too damaged to do so. But you took him entirely by surprise. He didn’t want to feel anything for you, he knew that you would leave the second you found out he was the infamous Winter Soldier. Your reaction, however, shocked him. 

“Y/N, I-I’m not who you think I am.” 

“What? You’re not funny, kind and incredibly handsome?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m The Winter Soldier. Was, is, I don’t even know anymore.” 

“I know.” He didn’t expect you to be so...calm. You acted as if he just told you he was going to the grocery store. He at least expected fear, anger, but not acceptance.

“W-what?”

“I’ve known from the day I first met you. I recognized your face from the papers. But I also know that wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t care about that, Buck. I just care about you.” Instead of answering he just crashed his lips against yours and carried you to the bed. That night was the first time you made love.

Then a few months later, Steve found you both. He expected to find his friend but not you, but regardless he was happy for him. After the events of the whole Steve versus Tony thing, you had accompanied Bucky to Wakanda.

“Doll, you shouldn’t come. I can’t let you keep running for me. What about your home, your family?” You reached up and cupped his cheek with your hand, looking into his magnetic blue eyes.

“Oh, Buck, don’t you know? You’re my home.” Your words brought him to tears, lunging forward and kissing you softly. When he pulled away, he told you he loved you for the first time.

After arriving to Wakanda with him, you then had the privilege in witnessing the start of his freedom.

“You sure you want to be here, doll?” You smiled at his nickname for you. You intertwined his fingers with yours before answering.

“There’s no other place I’d rather be.” He warmly smiled at you before Ayo arrived. You gave him one final nod before the process started.

You got to see him so vulnerable, so broken and so beautiful. After it was over and you saw him sobbing, you didn’t waste any time before you rushed towards him, enveloping him in your arms and holding him tightly against you. When he broke down, you also started sobbing as well. After your cries had died down, he pulled back just a bit, to get a look at you. He gazed at you in a very child like way, lips trembling too.

“I’m so proud of you, my love. You’re finally free.” You smiled before you buried your face in the crook of his neck, his arm coming around you. He started laughing before he repeated the words ‘I’m free’ over, and over again.

You were there when Shuri gave him his new upgraded metal arm. 

“Ok, that’s hot.” You said when he started flexing it, testing the way it moved. 

“Yeah?” He got closer until his arms came around you. You felt the cold vibranium against your back, and had to bite back a moan.

“Not in my lab!” Shuri called from afar, making you and Bucky laugh. He kissed your forehead before whispering huskily in your ear. “Later, doll.”

But the happy bubble you were in, burst one day.

You were sleeping soundly when the feel of cold metal against your throat woke you up. It was Bucky. He was hovering over you, eyes still closed, but his metal hand had a tight grip on your throat. He was having a nightmare. Even if he wasn’t The Winter Soldier anymore, he was still being dominated by the nightmares caused by his trauma. 

“B-buck. It’s me.” You managed to choke out. With the little strength you had, your hand went to cup his cheek, caressing his beard with your thumb. “Come back to me.” When the last words left your mouth, Bucky came back to reality. His eyes snapped open and he immediately realized what was happening.

His body fell from the bed as he went to release your throat from his hold. His eyes widened in horror when he saw what he had done. He was a monster. He then noticed the red marks of his fingers that were starting to form on your neck.

“What the hell did I do?” He looked at his vibranium hand in disgust and terror, wanting to chop it off right there and then.

“You didn’t mean to-”

“No! Just stop, Y/N. You need to leave, now.”

“W-what?” You felt a lump start to form in your throat and tears beginning to gather in your eyes.

“You heard me.”

“No! I won’t leave. Just because you’re scared of hurting me-”

“It’s not that. I don’t love you.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? I only pretended to feel something for you. You were just simply a pretty distraction to get me off.” Tears now flowed freely down your cheeks. You stood up from the bed and approached him. His taller height towering over you, his gaze was set on the opposite side of the room, he felt too sick to look at you in the eyes.

“Tell me that again, but look at me in the eyes.” You grabbed his jaw and turned his face, so that he had no other choice but to look at you. “If you tell me you don’t love me, I’ll leave, and never come back.” His stare was dead serious as his blue eyes looked into yours.

“I don’t love you, never have and never will.” You never thought that words would feel more painful that if someone stabbed you over twenty times, but you were wrong. His lips formed in a thin line as he held your gaze. Your crying that night was an image he would never forget. But he had to love you enough to let you go.

After that awful night, you went back to New York. And reunited with some members of your family that you used to be close with. You thought about him every single day. You tried to move on, going on blind dates, group dates, double dates, but it was all so unnatural. Nobody compared to Bucky. 

And then the snap happened. Half of the universe was gone. You were one of the lucky ones to stay on earth, that was people told you. But you didn’t feel lucky. You felt dead inside. You wished that the Blip would have taken you, it would’ve been so much better than this hell you were living in. 

One day, Steve Rogers contacted you.

“What the hell are you doing here, Steve?” You said when he barged into your apartment.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N.” You rolled your eyes.

“Did Bucky send you? If he did-”

“Wait, you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“He..went away, in the snap.” He tried to avoid the use of the word ‘died’, Tears started forming in your eyes but he continued before you could break down any futher. “But we have a plan to bring him back, to bring everyone back.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Eight

chapter seven - Chapter Eight: Bloodshed - chapter nine

Series Masterlist

Plot: After murdering one of the Flag Smashers in broad daylight, Sam, Bucky and Y/n confront John Walker.

Warnings: violence, blood, talk of death, injuries, hospitals, minor panic attack, ANGST GALORE, one teeny tiny little bit of fluff so ya’ll don’t completely hate me, Bucky’s a flirt and a concerned (almost) boyfriend, Y/n is still a badass, heartbreak, did I mention angst, more angst, and some more angst, k bye...

Word Count: 8k

A/N: THIS CHAPTER was the hardest one to write, I seriously struggled with this and drafted it so many times. I love writing angst but this shit actually hurt to write. I read up on blunt trauma injuries but I’m not a doctor so this definitely isn’t 100% accurate. I’m also super unoriginal with my titles but this one holds two meanings. Hope you enjoy it!!

----

Anger. Disgust. Horror. Fear.

All emotions that were coursing through me as Bucky, Sam and followed Walker’s signal via Sharon’s satellite. One thing I noticed about the dynamic between the three of us was that we didn’t always need to communicate verbally. With a single shared look, we had made the unanimous decision that we needed to do what had crossed all our minds at some point.

Sharon’s satellite had led us to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city that we approached with caution. Once we were outside the door, Sam turned and held up a hand to me. “You’re staying out here,” he said.

“That’s not happening,” I replied firmly. “No, he’s right,” Bucky nodded, “We don’t know what Walker’s capable of right now-“ “We know exactly what he’s capable of right now,” I interrupted, shoving Sam’s hand down to his side, “And I’m not about to watch you two walk in there and sit out here wondering if the same thing’s going to happen, because you wouldn’t if it were me.” I had successfully tied their hands, both flesh and metal, behind their backs. They both turned back around, sandwiching me between them as we took the first step through the door and into a very uncertain situation.

We entered to see Walker, kneeled on the ground and bracing his head against the bloodied shield. He stood up, slipping the now deadly weapon onto his wrist and began walking towards us. “Walker…” Sam started. “You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good,” he said as he passed us by, heading for the exit. “Stop, Walker,” Sam stepped forward, Bucky and I following.

Walker turned around, breathless in his anger. “What? You saw what happened, you know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to!” his voice rose with each word, his face turning more and more with rage, “He killed Lemar!” “He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky stated, “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” “I’m not like you,” John said lowly.

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle. Okay?” Sam’s voice was calm, contrasting Walker’s energy, “If you explain what happened, they may consider your record.” “Nobody else needs to get hurt in this, Walker,” I spoke up, the first non-sarcastic and non-confrontational thing I had said to the man. 

“John…” Sam paused, gauging what the reaction to what he was about to say may be, “You gotta give me the shield, man.” Walker’s head raised up slowly, the look in his eyes was unsettling as they danced between Sam, Bucky and I. “Oh, so that’s what this is. You almost got me.” “You made a mistake,” Sam shrugged.

He gave us a small sneer, “You don’t wanna do this.” A tense silence fell upon us, a preface to the inevitable moment about to take place. Sharon’s voice rang in my ear, how far was I willing to go? Would it be worth it if I lost my life or worse, lost Sam or Bucky? Without needing to think about my answer, I was resolved in my decision that this fight was too important to all three of us not to push forward. “Yeah, we do,” Bucky replied, speaking for us. 

And thus, it began.

We shot forward towards Walker at the same time, Bucky landing a couple punches on him while Walker kicked Sam backwards. I focused on sending energy blasts that he easily dodged with the shield, even with Bucky’s attacks coinciding. Bucky got a hand on the shield finally and tried to wrench it from Walker, who elbowed him causing him to wobble a little. Walker swung his arm and landed a perfect punch against Bucky’s cheek, sending Bucky to the ground and giving Walker the opportunity to stand above him and raise the shield threateningly. I quickly built a force field around Bucky as Sam came forward and kicked Walker, turning his attention away from Bucky and I. Sam released his wings to hit the shield, Walker’s arm flying back before coming back forward to try and hit Sam. Bucky leapt forward and banged his metal fist against the shield to no avail. I let the blue energy flow from my fingertips and towards to shield, trying to pull it from his grasp. Walker spun the shield around trying to hit all three of us, Sam and I dodging it while Bucky wasn’t as fortunate. Once he knocked Sam over, it was just him and I. He lunged at me with the shield  and I quickly formed an idea, I didn’t need Vibranium to have an equal shield. 

I created a force field with my hands about the size of Walker’s weapon, charged forward to meet him and my energy based shield made contact with his metal one. I shoved and threw him off balance, he quickly caught his footing and looked up at me in shock. Once he had gotten over his initial surprise, what followed was pure rage. In my efforts to take the shield from him, I’d taken the power it brought without actually confiscating the weapon. He growled and lunged at me again, meeting the same end result except he bounced back faster and continued his rapid attack. After a dozen unsuccessful hits, he kicked my leg out from under me and I landed on my back against the concrete. He stood over me and raised his shield, but was tackled to the side by Bucky before he could bring it down on me. Bucky landed punch after punch against the shield, Walker got in a few hits as well until they were pushing on either side of the shield towards one another, glowering. Walker ducked as Bucky was about to hit him, his metal fist instead hitting and taking out a beam. Sam was behind me on his feet only to have Walker kick him in the face, I threw my hands out and paused his fall, returning him to a standing position. I turned at just the right moment to see Walker fling the shield at Bucky with a yell, sending Bucky clutching the metal and slamming into a piece of machinery. Angrily, my eyes located a smaller piece of equipment and telepathically lifted it into the air, flicking my fingertips towards Walker and making it hit him in the head. He groaned as it made contact before doing the same as Bucky charged at him and hit him in the back with the shield. With his focus back on Bucky, Walker stalked towards him and gripped the shield, shoving him back against the same piece of machinery. “Why are you making me do this?” Walker growled in Bucky’s face before raising to a complete yell, “Why are you making me do this?” To accent his words, he swung the shield around as Bucky was still attached and sent him flying across the room, landing against a piece of electrical equipment. He fell to the ground with a pained grunt, his eyes shut and electricity causing his Vibranium arm to cease up.

“Bucky!” I cried before taking off across the room to him, fearing the worst. I dropped to my knees and attempted to roll him onto his back, my hands cradling both his cheeks. “Bucky, Bucky, I need you to wake up. C’mon, wake up,” I said, leaning closer to his face in hopes that he’d hear me better. I could see his stomach rising up and falling down rapidly, but he showed no signs of waking. “Bucky, we need you. Please don’t do this to me, wake up,” my voice quivered, tears starting to water my eyes as he stayed unresponsive. The grunts and groans echoing through the room finally registered with me, I looked over my shoulder to see Sam and Walker engaged in heavy combat. I quickly looked back to Bucky in hopes he would awaken on the spot, when that didn’t happen I brushed my thumbs across his cheekbones, touched my forehead to his and prayed for the best. 

I rose to see Sam flying around the room with his grappling hook attached to the shield and dragging Walker across the floor. He caught his footing and stood horizontally against a machine. I raised my hands to aid Sam and energetically pulled him in his direction. It wasn’t enough as both Sam and Walker lost their grip, both face planting on the cold ground. The shield rattled as it hit the floor, the three of us watching from where we stood before bolting towards it. Just as Sam was closing in on it, Walker tackled him to the floor. Sam extended his wings and did a loop in the air, trying to shake the iron-like grip Walker had on him to no avail. I took the chance to grab to shield, groaning at the weight of it as I picked it up. Walker had mounted Sam by now and without knowing what I was doing, I clumsily flung the shield at Walker but didn’t actually injure him. What I did succeed at doing was making him even madder than he already was. Still atop Sam, he twisted to land a punch to my gut that left me clutching the area. He didn’t stop in his attack and pulled me down by my throat, squeezing tight while still keeping a hand on Sam to prevent him from interfering. I gasped and gagged, trying to find any shred of air to take in just before Walker threw me away from them, my body sliding across the ground. I wheezed as I sucked in a breath and cradled my stomach, the pain in both my throat and abdomen screaming for relief. From my spot, I couldn’t hear what Walker was snarling to Sam but I could see what he was trying to do. His hands had a vice like grip on each of Sam’s wings, it didn’t take more than a loud cry and a good pull for the two pieces of Stark tech to be ripped from the EXO-7 pack. Sam writhed beneath him, desperately trying to free himself as Walker raised his shield in the air. 

It was then, at the sight of my brother about to be murdered in cold blood, not at the hands of a police officer or a Madripoorian bounty hunter, but a deranged Super Soldier that something inside me snapped.

I found the strength the rise to my knees, I could feel the energy that surged through my body rise to a level I’d never felt before. I stuck out my hands and with a yell, I fired two steady streams of blue energy straight at the shield to keep it from coming down on Sam’s throat. Walker was thrown off, his position on top of Sam losing stability as he tried to deflect my attack. I screamed as I rose to my feet, the rage I felt with Walker coming to its crescendo. He could take the shield, the mantle of Captain America, but he wasn’t going to take my brother from me.

I adjusted my stance as it was taking everything I had in me not to fall over, I was trying to keep my balance and ignore the pain that was demanding my attention. Just as I started to question if I had enough strength the keep this newfound power going, a now conscious Bucky jumped in from the side and tackled Walker. I let the energy die in my hands as I stumbled towards Sam, making sure he was alright. 

“Get to Bucky,” he gritted out.

Wasting no time, I turned around and made a beeline for Bucky, who was getting pummeled by Walker. He rammed Bucky’s head into the shield before sitting atop him, crazed and ready to drive the shield into his neck. “No!” I screamed, coming behind Bucky’s head and expelling streams of energy from my palms that hit the shield and once again prevented Walker from going any further. I was losing strength fast, unlike them I wasn’t a super soldier and Walker’s blows had left me in some of the worst pain I’d ever known. Sam sprung into action beside me and punched Walker in the side of his head before twisting his arm and pulling it back. He turned on his thrustesr and pushed, Bucky was freed from Walker’s grip and kneeled in front of him, their faces inches apart. I came to stand on the other side of Sam and used my energy to pull, aiding us in our efforts to rid the man of the power he was so determined not to lose. The four of us were piled together, each crying out of pain or yelling out of anger, fighting for a symbol that was supposed to bring us together.

A sickening crack sounded off as Walker’s arm snapped, sending Sam tumbling with the shield in his hands and me landing on my back. I cried as my head smacked against the concrete and found myself unable to rise, my ears ringing and my mind spinning. I felt two arms wrap around my torso and raise me up, refusing to let go even when I was steady on my feet. I didn’t need to open my eyes to knock that it was Bucky, his hot and heavy breaths against my ear and his scent invading my nose. My eyes fluttered open and though I wanted nothing more than to let sleep take me over in his arms, I pulled out of them as Walker stood to his feet again. “It’s mine,” he said. From behind me, I could hear Sam panting. “It’s over, John.” “It’s mine,” Walker growled as he stepped forward with his fist raised to Bucky. Exhaustedly, I shot a large blast at him that left him stumbling to catch his footing. His unhinged eyes sought me out and came charging towards me, I sent another blast but my weariness was beginning to sink its teeth into me and the blast wasn’t as strong as it should have been. He caught himself much quicker and swung again only this time, I wasn’t fast enough in my attack and he successfully grabbed me by the throat and raised me in the air. I kicked and clawed at his hand, desperately trying to free myself from the grip that was slowly tightening and causing my throat to constrict further. I couldn’t find any hole that would allow any air to fill my lungs, all I could do was continue pathetically trying to pull his fingers off me as I looked at his manic expression.

“You’ll never be a hero,” he snarled at me.

My eyes blurred with tears, not from his insult, but from the fact that I knew I was inching closer towards death. It was then that I made out Bucky’s body hurling itself towards Walker, tackling both of us to the ground. I felt Walker’s grip loosen ever so slightly just when Sam’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me backwards, freeing me. I wheezed and took a strained breath in, the cool air flooding my lungs blissfully. Sam laid me down carefully on the ground, a safe distance away from them as Bucky began using Walker as a punching bag. The wannabe Captain America may have been unhinged, but Bucky wasn’t far behind him as he kept up his unrelenting attack. With my ability to breathe returned to me, a fraction of my strength returned but not enough to rise and join the fight. As Bucky hoisted Walker into the air and Sam charged towards them with the shield, I raised a shaky hand and sent a blast of energy at Walker that hit just as his body made contact with the shield. The three of them fell to the ground with a collective groan, once I saw through my half shut eyes that both Bucky and Sam were still breathing, I allowed my head to loll to the side and closed my lids. I felt the warm blood on the back of my head, the drying drops on each of my cheeks, and the ghost of Walker’s handprint around my throat. The pain was starting to overtake me, whether leading me to death or unconsciousness, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was Sam and Bucky were safe and if that was true, then I could slip into whatever state was coming for me at ease.

Just on the outskirts of falling asleep, I heard a heavy set of footsteps coming towards me. “Y/n, Y/n, c’mon, stay with me. Stay with me, honey, come on,” Bucky’s voice flooded my ringing ears, his fingertips gently cradling my bruising neck. “Get her to the hospital,” Sam strained from nearby.

The last thing I remember was being lifted into Bucky’s arms, the cool Latvian air hitting my skin as we made it out of the warehouse and his warm lips pressing themselves against my forehead.

——

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes drowsily opened, the lids feeling as heavy as lead. I had to blink several times just to make sense of the blur of white surrounding me. Eventually I gained enough clarity to see it was a hospital room and I was laying in a bed, a cannula looped over my ears and drying my nose up with ice cold oxygen. I had stickers on my chest with wires coming off them and snaking into the beeping machine, monitoring my steady heartbeat.

“You got,” a voice to the side of me said quietly, “So lucky.” I tilted my head carefully against the pillow to see Sam, still in his suit, seated at my bedside looking more relieved than I’d ever seen him. I laid my palm out for him to grasp, squeezing with what little strength I had left. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, not recognizing my own voice with how hoarse it was. 

Sam scoffed, I could see he had a few stitches on his face accompanying a couple bruises. “I’m fine. You however’ve got three bruised ribs, a bruised stomach, a concussion and your face is all stitched up.” I made a noise of acknowledgement before looking on the other side of the room, someone was missing. “Where’s Bucky?” “Getting stitched up, we’ve been here about two hours but he wasn’t leaving until the doctor assured us you were gonna be fine,” Sam answered, rubbing my frigid hand between his warm ones.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain my voice. “What about Walker?” “Don’t know,” he replied, “My priority was making sure you were alive.”

My head was spinning, both literally and metaphorically as I thought back to the last sight I’d caught of Walker, laid out on the ground after being used as a human hammer. Walker and I were never going to be friends, he’d even tried to kill me, but I hoped that we hadn’t left him for dead in that warehouse.

“Doc says they’re gonna keep you here tonight for observation but if you do alright,” Sam explained, “They can release you tomorrow.” I gave a small nod, my head pounding with the movement causing me to shut my eyes again. “Get some sleep, you’re not missin’ anything. I’ll be here when you-“ I was already gone.

——

The next day, I woke up feeling as well as one could for someone who had gotten their ass kicked by a Super Soldier. The hospital agreed to release me with the instructions that I rest and took my painkillers. Both Sam and Bucky spent the night in chairs, I learned, the two men refusing to leave my side and clinging to the doctor’s every word when they discharged me. 

If Bucky and I hadn’t been skirting a line before, we definitely were now. His eyes were trained solely on me at all times, he guided me out of the hospital with a protective hand on my back. As I’d been cleaning myself up before discharge, changing into the clothes that Sam had brought me that morning once he knew I was alright to be left alone, I thought back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. Bucky’s gentle kiss was imprinted on my forehead, he was the only clear thing in the chaos of that moment where I didn’t know if I’d live or die. What wasn’t clear was whether or not we would ever speak about these stolen moments we were sharing and the intimacy that had come so naturally to us. Maybe after this was all over, before Sam and I returned to Louisiana and Bucky to Brooklyn, we could talk. But until then, we had bigger fish to fry…

The three of us stood in our respective corners of one of the resettlement camps which the police had come and swept clean of all life, trying to determine our next move. Bucky and Sam seemingly weren’t speaking unless absolutely necessary, I knew that Bucky still held it against Sam that he’d given up the shield. The fight with Walker would have only amplified those feelings, we’d had to go to such great lengths to correct Sam’s “mistake” and Bucky’s cold stare reflected that. I sat to the side trying to ignore the pain that radiated in my chest each time I inhaled, my bruised ribs forcing me to take shallower breaths.

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam stated to the room, “But so far they’ve only found her followers. They’ve searched this camp and just like the last camp, nothing. She’s gone, we’ll never find her.” “You don’t know that,” I said hopefully from my seat, “She’s popped up before, she’ll pop up again. She can’t help but make a show of all this.” 

“Hey,” Torres announced his entrance, looking to Bucky, “You got your sleeve back.” I chuckled quietly at the memory of the first day we’d worked together, instantly regretting it at the pain in my abdomen. Bucky, however, didn’t find Torres as amusing as I did and made for the exit of the room, brooding as usual.

“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam asked mockingly.

Bucky shot him a glare from the doorway before looking at me once more, making sure I was alright. Without a word, he walked out of the room. “Alright, good to know you survived!” Torres called. 

It was clear that Bucky was indeed going to catch Zemo, possibly kill him even. If that were the case, I needed to get one piece of information from the Baron before he met whatever fate the Super Soldier was going to deal him. 

I rose from my seat with a groan, walking over to Sam, “I need to go with him.” “What?” he furrowed his brows and looked me up and down, “Are those painkillers making you high?” “Zemo said something very…Zemo-ish, when you were talking to Karli,” I explained, placing hand on his arm, “He was fascinated by my last name, he said it sounded familiar.” “Why would your last name sound familiar to Zemo?” he echoed the question in my mind.

“It shouldn’t. He escaped before I could get a chance to ask him about it, I need to go with Bucky and talk to him before he slips again.” 

Sam sighed heavily, weighing the scenarios in his head. He couldn’t stop me from going and I wasn’t asking permission. I’d promised to follow his lead throughout this, but this regarded my family and not even my own brother could get in the way of the concerns I had. “Alright, call and let me know where you two end up.” I pecked his cheek quickly and took off power walking since I couldn’t run due to my injuries. There weren’t many exits available to us since the police had marked a lot of the building off limits, I followed the way we’d come in and spotted Bucky making his way out to the street. “Bucky!” I yelled as I hurried towards him, he turned at the sound of my voice. “What’re you doing?” he asked, gripping each of my arms gently in his hands, “You shouldn’t be moving this much.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, ignoring his concern for my wellbeing. “What?” I took a second to catch the breath, my stamina hadn’t been great before the fight but now I was practically leveled by simple tasks. Bucky waited patiently and guided the two of us to a bench to sit. “Yesterday when Sam was talking to Karli, Zemo made a point of telling me that my last name sounded familiar. He wouldn’t go into any further detail and obviously the wheels came off of that whole situation, but I need to find out what he meant by that.” “Are you sure he’s not just messing with you?” he asked, trying to keep me away from the situation at all costs.

“He very well may be, but he may not be. But I won’t be able to sleep if I let you do whatever you’re going to do to him without finding out the truth.”

Bucky copied Sam’s sigh almost to the exact pitch, his worry for me taking center stage. But as it had been with my brother, I wasn’t asking for permission. “Alright, come on,” he said defeatedly, standing up and helping to pull me up, “We gotta find a ride.” “You think you have an idea of where he is?” I asked as we started off down the sidewalk. “I know where he is,” Bucky answered confidently, his hand returning to its familiar spot on my back as we crossed the street.

——

While I didn’t agree with Bucky’s methods of getting us transportation, hot-wiring an old European made car, we were successfully on our way to Sokovia.

The car itself was rusty and on the slower side, there weren’t even seat belts but it would do the job of getting us there. Bucky had informed me we were driving straight through the night, he’d also turned down my offering to take a shift at the wheel stating that all I needed to focus on was resting. We’d been driving for a few hours now in comfortable silence, me watching the scenery out the window and sneaking a long glance at Bucky every once in a while.

“So what are you planning on doing when we get there?” I finally asked, “I don’t like the guy but I don’t necessarily want to kill him.” “I’m not gonna kill him,” Bucky quickly shut down the idea, “I’m gonna do what I should’ve done, turn him over to the Wakandans.” I hummed in acknowledgment, thinking of a question that I wanted to ask but didn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable. In the end, curiosity got the better of me. “Can I ask you something?” “Hmm?”

“You know I don’t condone it,” I said firmly, “But Zemo ruined your life, what is it that’s stopping you from killing him?” Bucky squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter, his glove creating a sound as it stretched across his hand. I held my breath as I awaited his answer, praying that he didn’t go silent on me. Instead, he reached into his pocket with his free hand and fished out his book with the list of names he needed to make amends with, waving it a little. “He didn’t ruin my life, he certainly didn’t make it any better, but he didn’t ruin it.” “What if he tries to kill you? He seems to have a vendetta against all Super Soldiers, even the good ones.” “You think I’m one of the good ones, huh?” Bucky briefly took his eyes off the road to look over at me, his eyebrow quickly rising and one corner of his lips turning upwards.

My smile grew, though I still tried to control it. “Don’t let it go to your head, Barnes.”

Bucky turned his attention back to the road, his smug grin still showcased on his face. I was utterly convinced with the rays from the sunset shining through the car windows hitting him perfectly, his features bathed in gold, that there was no way he could be more beautiful. This was the most at ease I had seen him since I’d met him which was strange considering the circumstances.

“So how is it all going down?” I asked, watching him slip the pocketbook back in his jeans “I already made a call, the Dora’s gonna meet us there,” he answered plainly, though I could see the guilt that was threatening to peek through at betraying the people who had gone to such great lengths for him. I moved to adjust myself in my seat, sending a shooting pain through my abdomen. I hissed at the sensation, my hand flying to cover the area. “What? What is it?” Bucky’s mood had shifted from calm to panicked in seconds. “They said that might happen,” I said, my voice slightly strained from the pain, “I’m fine.” Bucky’s head rotated between watching me and the road, I knew that it was only because we were too far away from Latvia that he wasn’t turning the car around and taking me back to Sam. “Hey,” I said softly, reaching for his nearest arm to give it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine.” He sighed, both stress and relief seeping out of the sound and telling me it wasn’t time yet to remove my hand. A few breaths were taken before he decided to finally speak, “You gave me a heart attack yesterday, when you passed out I thought you…”

His sentence trailed off leaving me to fill in the gaps of what he thought had happened to me. I was just as terrified when it was him who laid unconscious in my arms. “You scared me too, I was practically slapping you silly trying to get you to wake up.” “I know, I heard you.”

“You heard me?” “I couldn’t move, felt like I couldn’t even open my eyes,” Bucky said, pausing for a second as he relived the moment, “You sounded like you were underwater, but I knew you were there. I could feel you.” The air had shifted from light to tense and now to the great something that Bucky and I always seemed to be enveloped by. And this, this small admittance of recognizing one’s presence in the middle of battle was the most we’d ever acknowledged it. Something about Bucky’s voice when he’d said he could feel me, my hands pressed and stroking against his cheeks, that led me to believe he wasn’t just stating a fact. It didn’t break or quiver, he didn’t stutter or stumble on his words, but I could hear in his serious tone that there were emotions he was holding back. The phantom of that dark moment was clear and present in the car, pushing the two of us together while the spirit of hesitation was wedged between us.

I embodied both as my hand slipped from Bucky’s arm and I gathered the courage to speak. “I heard you too, just before Sam told you to bring me to the hospital.” There was a pregnant pause as Bucky absorbed the news, “You remember anything after that?” I knew, he knew, we both knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if I remembered the kiss, the last thing I’d felt before giving into my body’s trauma. The way his lips had brushed my forehead so softly as if he was afraid to break me any more, yet somehow I’d felt every bit of his concern and care. It had crossed a line that we’d come so close to crossing in that alley, him caging me in and me pressing his hand to my chest. Had I not lost consciousness, I’d have pressed my hand against the back of his head, threaded my fingers through his hair and redirected those lips down to meet mine. Did I remember? “Yes.” Bucky glanced over at me, carefully scanning my face for any signs of discomfort with his decision. When he found none, one side of his lips pulled up in the now familiar smirk. “Good.”

I found myself biting down on my bottom lip to keep from breaking into a grin, forcing my mouth into submission. If in another lifetime I had ever met 1940’s Bucky Barnes, I had a feeling he was like this but all the time. Flirty, bold and a smash hit with the women. And here he was, eighty years later, charming me so well that I had forgotten momentarily that we were on our way to essentially arrest one of the world’s most dangerous men. Such was the hold he had on me…

“Get some sleep,” he said like nothing had transpired, the audacity of him…”It’s gonna be a while till we get to Sokovia.” “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Mr. Barnes,” I said playfully.

“Oh, now I’m Mr. Barnes?” he shot back with a single laugh. “That’s how you’re supposed to address your elders.” “Ha ha ha,” he unenthusiastically shot back, the smile on his face contradicting his words.

I moved to settle into my side of the bench seat but stopped myself before I could truly get comfortable. If Bucky could be bold, then I could be too. Careful to not awaken the pain in my abdomen or chest, I slid across the long seat until I was pressed against the Super Soldier. I placed my head against his arm, effectively making him my pillow and letting myself be swept away to sleep, comforted by the warmth he provided and how his tense body relaxed at my touch.

There was a chance for us.

——

Bucky parked our car in the Sokovian woodland, saying we needed to walk to rest of the way as not to alert Zemo to our being there a second before he should be made aware. He hadn’t been wrong, there stood the Baron in front of the memorial to his once whole country. As we silently approached, Bucky pulled the gun he had out of his coat pocket, holding it at his side instead of in the air. We had an agreement, he’d get his closure with Zemo and then I would get my answers.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said, acknowledging our presences, “And I figured you would be with him. Don’t worry,” he spared Bucky a glance, “I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky sarcastically retorted, clicking the gun as a period to his sentence.

Zemo pivoted and slowly walked towards us, “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned Sam, but he didn’t listen to me. He’s as stubborn as Steve Rogers before him. But you…They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere, and there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.” “I appreciate the advice,” Bucky replied, “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled softly, “Yeah, I was afraid you would say that.”

Bucky stayed silent, the only sound between the three of us was the sound of the pistol’s safety being turned off. I paid close attention to how Zemo’s eyes followed the noise and how they expectantly waited as Bucky cocked the weapon and aimed at Zemo’s face. He nodded, giving Bucky permission to prove that his killer instinct was still there. The Baron wanted sweet death to take him and reunite him with the family he’d lost years ago. Perhaps I would want the same thing if I had lost everyone, but not everybody deserved an ending so sweet.

Bucky pulled the trigger, the chamber revealing its secret that it was indeed empty.

Zemo flinched at the shot that never fired, his face painted with shock that Bucky hadn’t committed the deed we all assumed he’d want to. Once the victim, the small smirk of victory across his lips proved that Bucky was actually the winner in Zemo’s plot to bring down Super Soldiers. Not just because he had escaped with his life, but because he had healed his wound. With each bullet that clanked to the ground, released from his metal hand, the power his grudges against Zemo had held over him disappeared.

The Dora Milaje appeared then, marching in from behind Zemo to come and escort him to his fate of their choosing. “Ladies…” he greeted them before turning back to Bucky, “I took the liberty of crossing off my name in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye, James.”

“We’re not done yet,” I stepped forward from behind Bucky, “You still owe me an answer. You said my name was familiar, why is that?” Zemo’s lips parted only to close once more, eventually nodding and taking a breath. “Very well, I suppose everybody deserves to know their roots. What did your father tell you he did?” My father? What could he have possibly known about him? How could he ever have been on his radar? “He was a soldier, US Army, he came home to Louisiana and became a contractor,” I answered, not letting on to my confusion. “Sadly, what he told you was a lie,” Zemo stated, “When I heard your last name, I could not place where I had heard it before. It wasn’t until I brought it up to you that I had figured out you were his daughter. Your father was in service of a kind, but not to your country’s government. Not at least in the way you think.”

Fear was starting to creep in, its inky black tentacles starting to take swipes at me threatening to drag me down. I did my best to keep my expression steeled, “How dare you say my father was a liar...He bled and fought for my country, he dedicated himself to the service.” Zemo paused, he didn’t seem like he was taking any enjoyment in having this conversation with me. “Y/n, your father was a part of HYDRA.”

I could no longer keep my emotions off my face as my jaw went slack and my brows scrunched together. “No, you’re lying,” I shook my head, trying to deny what he had no reason to make up. “His name was listed in the files that Black Widow released to the public years ago. When I was deciphering the files and I found his name, I quickly learned that he dropped his last name in favor of his middle once he left their service. Perhaps he was afraid they would find him or your family,” Zemo further explained, “When I came looking for him and discovered he had killed himself long ago, I let you and your family be. I had no interest in tearing the three of you apart, only your father.” 

“W-why were you trying to find him? How could he have possibly been of use to y-“ my sentence stopped cold in its tracks. There had only been one reason Zemo was interested in HYDRA, why he had scoured file after file and become obsessed with the organization. And as I connected the dots, I quickly tried to scramble them again.

“Your father,” Zemo stopped once again, knowing his words would have a lasting impact on me, “Was one of the Winter Soldier’s handlers. One of the men in charge of containing, controlling and torturing the man standing next to you.”

In my life, I had known a little too much pain. There were three moments that stuck out as the worst in my life. The first was as a child when the police knocked on our door, telling us that my father had been found dead. The second was when Steve informed me that Sam was dead. This was the third and it struck me like a dagger in both my heart and back. My father had posthumously wounded me and betrayed me.

“I am sorry,” Zemo said, his thick accent dragging me out of my pain for only a second, “I don’t take any joy in telling you this.” It wouldn’t have mattered to me how he felt, my entire life was crashing down around me and I was struggling just to find the strength to draw another breath. My father had painted himself a veteran, he’d allowed me and my family to believe him to be a hero, when all along he had been working for the enemy. And the worst part of it all was that he hadn’t hurt just anybody…He had hurt Bucky.

There was nothing left to say, through my teary eyes I watched the red and silver blurs that were the Dora Milaje lead Zemo away. After the shock came the panic, leaving me to stumble away from Bucky to brace myself against the memorial statue. My breathing started to quicken as I conjured up images of my father, young and ambitious, hooking Bucky up to machines. Torturing him. Breaking him. He may not have been one of the masterminds behind the creation of the Winter Soldier, but he had played one of the worst parts. He had beaten Bucky down day in and day out, stripping him of his humanity and everything that made him the man I had fallen for. Now, however many years later, here I stood, the offspring of someone capable of such evil. 

A familiar hand gently gripped my elbow, “Y/n…”

“No,” I trembled, violently ripping my arm out of Bucky’s grasp, “No, don’t.” “Y/n, you didn’t do anything,” Bucky hurriedly assured me, reaching out for one of my hands, “You didn’t know-“ Guilt had taken full hold of me and I couldn’t stand to watch Bucky, the person who suffered most at the hands of my father, try to tell me that any part of this was acceptable. “Bucky, get away from me,” I took several steps backwards, holding a warning hand out, “You can’t.” “Don’t do this,” he urged, disregarding my order and walking closer toward me, “You’re innocent in all this.” “Stop,” I yelled through my tears, throwing up a force field to separate the two of us. Bucky looked heartbrokenly at the barrier, placing his metal hand over it and pleading with his eyes to drop it. “Don’t say it’s okay, don’t say that I’m innocent. H-he hurt you and I’m…I’m him.” Before Bucky could argue the point that I had no role in my father’s sins, I dropped the force field and redirected the energy to my palms. I shot into the air and flew off in the same direction we’d come, desperate to take myself as far away from Bucky as I could. I wouldn’t have hurt him even if my life had depended on it, but the guilt I felt for what my father had done to him was overwhelming. The whole time I had known him I’d been trying to help him through his trauma, so desperate to be of any service to him to save him from being swallowed by his demons. I had made my father the example, the cautionary tale, when all along he had been the villain. And I, in some way, felt responsible for all of it.

With Zemo’s one sentence, he’d taken a match to everything. The man my father had made himself out to be, my family’s belief in him, my belief in myself and the chance that Bucky and I could find happiness with one another. I wasn’t sure which one hurt the most to lose, all I knew was that my little experiment was over. A child of HYDRA trying to be a hero was nothing more than smoke and mirrors.

——

Three plane rides and one rental car later, I was turning my key in the door of my house, the only luggage with me was my newly attained emotional baggage.

It was past AJ and Cass’ bedtime, a thought that occurred to me as the front door creaked to announce my arrival. Had it been a normal night, Sarah and I might have watched a movie with them, indulging in ice cream sundaes before sending them to bed. We’d have retired soon after, a long day of catching and selling awaiting us at the crack of dawn.

How far away it all seemed now, this life that a week ago had been the only life I’d known...

I found myself frozen in the entryway, knowing once I took the first step in that I could no longer go back to who I’d been the past few days. The energy that I’d used to protect and shield those I cared about in battle would stay trapped forever in my veins. The drive I had to help people would have to be utilized in different ways, but never again on such a grand scale as saving the world. I was to go back to being exactly who I was before I’d gotten to notion in my head that I could play some bigger role in the world.

I took steady strides down my hall, each step taking me further and further away from the person I foolishly thought I could be. Walker had been right, I wasn’t a hero. 

I made my way into the living room, the sight of Sam dozing on our couch surprising me. The fact that he was here let me know that either he’d given up on Karli or there was simply nothing left to do. Knowing my brother, who never gave up on anyone or anything, it was the latter. I patted his knee just hard enough to alert him of my presence, he stirred and blearily opened his eyes, blinking a few times before focusing on me. “Hey.” “Did you bring back Sarah and the boys?” I asked, tossing my keys on a nearby end table.

“Safe and sound,” he answered, some of the tension in my body dissipating. I settled down next to him in the corner of the couch, the two of us leaning on one another physically and metaphorically. Since the beginning, it had always been Sam and I against the world. Now the world had gone against us and here we were, both fighting to keep our eyes open after being dealt a good many blows. 

“You went to see him, didn’t you?” I broke up the silence we were resting in, with our backs pressed to one another, I couldn’t see his face, “Isaiah.” “Yeah,” Sam mumbled, his head falling back against mine. I’d known since we’d left the man’s house that my brother wasn’t done with him, there were too many questions to be asked. “You guys catch Zemo?”

“Mmhmm,” I replied, knowing the inevitable question was coming but still praying it didn’t, “The Wakandans came for him.” “So where’s Bucky?” Sam asked tiredly.

With my last look at James Buchanan Barnes, I had seen heartache etched into every line of his face. The pain I had caused him when I’d barred him from coming any closer to me had birthed equal hurt within me. The last thing I had ever wanted to do was hurt Bucky, and I knew that between my father’s past and my disappearance from his life, I had done just that. But in my heart, I knew that eventually he would resent me for what my family had done to him. And the day when he stopped gazing at me with the softness in those piercing blue eyes I adored so much was a day I couldn’t bear to experience. The connection we had would eventually fade, he’d continue avenging and I would live quietly in my corner of the south. I was letting him go to protect him, to prevent him from having to relive every trauma every day each time he looked at me. It was my final way of helping him.

“He’s safe,” I answered, mumbling the words as my eyes watered and my voice threatened to crack.

----

A/N: ........So........How we feeling? (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this angst fest of a series!)

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine