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rollinouttahere-writes · 11 months

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Lucky Break Chapter 3

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

4.5k words

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I was really hoping to get Orange Town Arc wrapped up in this chapter, but it appears that writing for One Piece has given me Oda’s pacing.

How could this even be possible? How did a disembodied arm stab Zoro? You clung onto the cage Luffy was in, feeling nauseated at the sight. Unlike when he had cut Buggy, blood was immediately flowing from the wound. Zoro stumbled from the attack and reached behind him to try and remove the dagger, but the arm ripped it out and flew away.

You could only watch in abject horror as Buggy’s body floated until he was in an upright position. He laughed loudly at the confusion on your faces, “The Chop-Chop fruit is the name of the devil fruit I ate, so now I’m a person who can never be cut!” His body readily attached itself back together (and his clothes too somehow), all while he continued to cackle.

Another one of those weird fruit things? Are all of them this disturbing to witness? You hope you never have to see another person with these cursed abilities ever again.

“A chop-chop person? Is he some kind of monster?” Luffy was, as per usual, not reacting to the given situation with anywhere near the severity required.

You reached through the bars to swat at him, “You’re all rubbery! Are you a monster too?”

“No, I’m a rubber person, it’s different,” he says like you’re dumb and simply didn’t understand. Well, to be fair though, you didn’t understand a damn thing going on right now. Was your life always filled with such bizarre events? Surely this wouldn’t be so shocking if you had been used to such things.

Wait, there is way too much going on right now for you to be getting distracted like this, you look up only to see Zoro lifting the cannon, flipping it so that it’s aimed towards the other pirates. How he was able to casually lift that is beyond you, especially when taking his wound into account.

Nami rushed over and lit the already very short fuse. Buggy and co immediately panic at this, and are apparently so terrified that they forgot how to move because they just let it fire at them. The explosion was deafening from this short distance, and the wave of heat felt like it was burning your lungs. All you could do was try and shield your face with your arms, but it really didn’t help much.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Zoro shoved past you and grabbed the cage, putting all his strength into dragging it away. You can’t let him do this by himself when he’s so injured, he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, so you push it from the other side. It’s so heavy, you can’t imagine you’re really helping him all that much, but you don’t give up.

Zoro is either in shock and can’t feel anything, or is a glutton for punishment because he continues to drag the cage further than you thought necessary. You’re not sure why, it’s not like those other guys are going to come after you. If there was anyone that survived the blast, there’s no way they’d be in any shape to give chase.

He finally called it quits in front of some abandoned pet store, immediately collapsing onto the ground upon letting go of the cage.

“Zoro!” You rushed over and knelt next to him. Instinctively, you reach into your bag for the first aid kit, but then freeze. What are you supposed to do with it? Slap some bandaids on the gaping wound? For all you know some of his organs were pierced, too. At the very least, he would need stitches, and you didn’t know how to do that.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about this. I’ll sleep it off,” Zoro placed his hand over yours, forcing you to put the kit back in your bag.

You looked at him incredulously, “Sleep it off?! You didn’t sprain an ankle or something, you got stabbed! You can’t sleep off a stab wound!” He must be delirious from blood loss, that’s the only explanation for how he’s this nonchalant.

“Quit worrying so much, I’ve slept off worse.”

“You’ve what?”

“Just quiet down so I can sleep,” he yawned and stretched out on the ground as if he were on a bed. His eyes flickered open again and back on you, “Can I have that back now if you’re done using it?”

“Have what?” Your hand reaches up to follow where his gaze is focused, landing on the fabric of the bandana, “Oh!” So you were right, it was his. You’re quick to untie it and return the bandana to its rightful owner.

“What’s with this weird dog? Why isn’t it moving?” Luffy was currently in a staring contest with a tiny white dog sitting in front of the store. The poor thing looked filthy. A stray, probably.

“That’s what you’re focused on right now? Seriously?!” You scolded him while gesturing at Zoro. What’s with this guy? How is he this laid back about everything going on around you? Were you the weird one here?

Luffy just tilted his head at you, further making you question if you were the odd one out, “What? He said he’ll be fine after he gets some sleep.” Zoro wordlessly nodded along with this sentiment from his (bloodied) spot on the ground, giving you an ‘I told you so’ look.

It’s official. They’re both insane. Was it too late to listen to what Nami said and go your separate way? You hazard a glance back at Luffy, only to see the dog biting his hand and him screaming while trying to shake it off.

You… Would probably be better off on your own.

“So that’s where you three ran off to,” you whip around to see the sanest person you’ve met so far, Nami, watching you all with an amused grin. She strolled closer and dropped a large key onto the ground, “I figured you guys might want this.”

“The key!” You and Luffy shouted in unison. You pray it’s the correct one this time, but at least it won’t be your fault if it isn’t. Luffy goes to grab it, but can’t. Not because he can’t reach it or anything, but because the dog leapt forward and snatched it up first. He didn’t just pick it up, no. The damn thing swallowed it, much to everyone’s shock and horror.

Luffy was the first to snap out of it. Surprise turned to anger as he grabbed the dog, yelling at him to spit it out, even though it was too late for that.

Ah. Of course. This might as well happen.

Crestfallen over the realization of how strange the company you’re keeping really is, you look at Nami with what must have been an extremely exasperated expression. All she does is smirk, visibly taking joy in your palpable regret towards your life decisions.

“Are you having fun helping your friends here?” Her tone was saccharin and her smile was conniving.

Suddenly, your resolve hardens and spite bubbles to the surface. If she’s going to be like this, then you don’t want to let her in on how you’re really feeling. You won’t give her the satisfaction of being right. “Yes. I’m loving every second of it, thank you very much,” you huffed and looked away from her, hoping she didn’t see right through you. Nami snorted at your effort.

“Hey! You kids leave Chouchou alone!”

Everyone turns their attention to the new voice. It belongs to an old man wearing some crude attempt at armor. Who’s Chouchou? The dog?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Boodle, the mayor of this town,” he stated very matter of factly. You couldn’t help but take a look at your surroundings. He’s mayor of this town? A ghost town? You suppose that would make getting elected easier.

He stomped his way closer, sizing up all of you before his eyes settled on Zoro. His eyes shot wide open, “That’s a terrible wound you’ve got there, we need to get you to a doctor immediately! I take you young’uns had a run in with Buggy and his crew?” The old man knelt down and began to try and lift Zoro onto his feet.

You pitched in and hooked his other arm over your shoulder. You’re not sure where you’re headed, but you assume it’s to wherever the doctor is. It’s surprising that there’s still a doctor here, but you suppose it’s not that much of a reach if the mayor is still lurking around.

He enters a nearby building, but it looks more like someone’s personal home than a doctor’s office. There also isn’t anyone in here. You follow the mayor’s lead into a bedroom and let Zoro lay down on one of the beds in there. You glance around and strain your ears, but you don’t see or hear anyone. You decide to ask, “So where’s the doctor at?”

“Oh, he’s not here,” Boodle didn’t pay you much mind, leaving the room to grab some supplies. He came back with a first aid kit and a glass of water.

Zoro in the meantime had shuffled himself under the covers and waved his hand dismissively at Boodle, “I don’t need any of that, just let me get some sleep.” Within seconds of finishing the sentence he was out cold.

“When is the doctor coming back?” You pried.

“Not anytime soon, I imagine. Not while Buggy is still ‘round these parts.”

“Then why did we bring him here???” Talk about pointless, this was like going shopping in a store that’s out of stock.

“It’s better than leaving him on the street, young lady,” he explained. His eyes focused on the haphazardly placed bandages on your forehead, “Oh dear, it looks like you could stand to see a doctor, too.”

“What? The doctor that isn’t here?”

Boodle scowled at your response, muttering under his breath, “Kids these days and their sass.” He huffs and turns to the door, “I’m going to go talk to the others, you’re welcome to stay here and rest if you want.”

The mayor is quick to leave after that, so you focus your attention back on Zoro. He’s sound asleep, looking surprisingly peaceful despite the circumstances. Despite his insistence that all he needs is sleep, you’re not so convinced. You shake Zoro’s shoulder, but he doesn’t even flinch. The blood loss must have him in a very deep sleep right about now. Maybe you could treat him now? There’s probably no harm in that.

You pull the covers back and roll up his shirt to assess the wound. If you remember right, he got stabbed from behind, so you decide to roll him onto his side to look at that part of the injury, too. There’s blood everywhere, and also some dirt and debris around it. You’ll need to get this cleaned up so it doesn’t become infected.

The bathroom should have what you need for that. You leave the room and try a couple of doors in the hallway before getting the right one. There’s a wash bin on the counter that you fill with warm water, and you snag a couple of rags on your way out of the room.

Zoro is exactly as you left him a moment ago, so you set to work on washing away the blood and dirt. His abdominal muscles twitch involuntarily from the action, but he didn’t wake. It was somewhat difficult to clean the wound due to the fact that it was still bleeding, but you got it good enough to move on to disinfecting it.

Cracking open the kit, you rifle through it to find what you need. Your hand closes around a bottle and you pull it out to see what it is. Painkillers! You can’t help the relieved grin that spreads across your face. Finally, some relief for your splitting headache! Popping open the bottle, you shake out a couple of pills and use the water on the bedside table to take them. Zoro probably wouldn’t mind. You set a couple more on the table for Zoro to take, too.

Next, you find a disinfectant and set to work on applying it. The sting of it was enough to rouse Zoro from his slumber. His arm shot out to try and shoo you away and he hissed, “Leave me alone, I’m trying to sleep.”

“I will when I’m done. We need to get this taken care of before it gets any worse. Here, I set out some painkillers for you,” you reached over and grabbed the pills and water cup, holding them out for him.

Zoro made no move to grab them, “I don’t need them, I feel fine.”

“There’s no way that doesn’t hurt like hell. Quit acting like a tough guy and take the damn things!” You try to push them past his lips, but he wrenches his face away from you like a toddler avoiding taking medicine.

“Knock it off, woman! I’m fine! Just finish what you’re doing and leave me alone!” He grabbed the wrist of the hand that had the pills in it to stop you from trying.

You scowled at his stubborn antics, but ultimately relented. If he was willing to let you dress the wound without a fight, you’ll take it, “Okay fine, sit up for me.”

This kind of a cut definitely called for stitches at the very least, but you weren’t qualified to do that. The best you could do was bandage it so it stays clean and doesn’t get any worse. You wad up a couple pieces of gauze to put on each side of his stab wound and wind some bandages around his waist to hold them in place.

“Is this too tight?”

Zoro rolled his eyes and grumbled, “It’s not, you worry too damn much.”

“Well excuse me for trying to help you and return the favor,” my god this guy was argumentative.

“Return what favor?” He looked genuinely confused. It’s not entirely unbelievable that he’d forgotten about helping you before given everything that’s happened in such a short window of time.

“You’re the one that cleaned up this, remember?” You pointed at your head with your free hand. Granted, rinsing it with sea water was hardly an ideal treatment, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Oh, that,” Zoro averted his gaze. “It’s not a big deal, I didn’t do that much. Definitely didn’t harp on you as much as you’re harping on me.” The man apparently couldn’t go two seconds without complaining.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, “Still, I appreciate the effort and wanted to give you the same courtesy, even if you’re being a cranky bastard about it.” His protests of being called ‘a cranky bastard’ was cut off by you tying the bandages in a knot to keep them in place, “There, I’m done. Now you can go back to sleep.”

“Finally,” Zoro falls back onto the pillow dramatically and immediately goes back to snoring. You pull up the covers since he didn’t bother to before passing out again. He must be exhausted to be able to go to sleep so quickly.

There’s another bed in the room and you contemplate laying down in it, but then you hear a terribly loud roar outside. You spare a glance to Zoro, who is unresponsive, then rushed out of the room to see what was going on. That sounded an awful lot like the lion, Richie.

Throwing open the front door, you look around and see Luffy by himself. Nami and Boodle are nowhere in sight, but neither is Richie at least.

Luffy is frantically rocking the cage back and forth in what you think is an attempt to scootch away. When he sees you running towards him, he perks up, “Lucky! Help me out and move the cage!”

There’s no way in hell you can move that cage far enough to get him out of danger, but you think you have an idea, “I can’t do that, but there might be another way.”

He tilts his head curiously, “Another way? What do you- Hey! What are you doing?” He yelps as you reach through the bars to grab his ankle and pull it out.

“You’re made of rubber, so you can squeeze through these bars, right?” If he can stretch, he can squish too. At least, that’s what you’re guessing.

“That’s not how this works! I would’ve gotten out of here by now if I could do that!” Luffy was flailing indignantly, trying to get you to let go.

“Maybe you just needed some help? Work with me here, suck it in!” You grunted from the effort of trying to pull some wriggly rubber boy out of a cage. He wasn’t making this easy on you. His leg was stretching, but he wasn’t any closer to being out of the cage.

“Suck what in? You don’t make any sense!” Luffy was straight up whining at this point.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You shrieked and in your panic, let go of Luffy’s leg. You were so focused on helping Luffy that you hadn’t realized that Richie was now right here. So was that guy with the weird hair. When you let go of Luffy’s leg, it slingshotted back and over the cage, nailing the guy in the chest and sending him flying off of Richie.

“Oh! Good thinking Lucky! You got him good!” Luffy wasn’t even acknowledging the massive lion.

The other guy was coughing and gasping from the impact. Richie was paying him no mind and instead came over to you and licked your face. This successfully distracted you from the situation at hand. You cooed at the overgrown feline and gave him chin scritches.

The dog, Chouchou, was growling like mad. You hadn’t even noticed the small dog was still here before, having assumed it left with the others.

The weird haired guy staggered onto his feet, visibly furious, “Richie! Quit cuddling up to that liar!”

Richie grumbled, but did listen. He meandered back in no particular hurry, looking unenthused about the whole ordeal.

The man cleared his throat, “I’ll make you all pay for what you did! I am Beast Tamer Mohji, and there isn’t a creature that I can’t tame! Observe!” To prove his point, he approached Chouchou, whose growling got louder with each step. Mohji crouched down and held out his hand to the dog, smirking confidently.

As soon as he was close enough, the dog lunged forward and bit down hard on him. Mohji screamed and flailed his arm, trying to dislodge the angry dog. You, Luffy, and Richie watched this, all sharing an unimpressed look at the display.

When he did manage to free himself, Mohji took a minute to catch his breath before turning to face you guys again. “Anyways! We have unfinished business here! I’m not about to let anyone get away with disrespecting Captain Buggy!”

Oh, so he’s just gonna sweep that under the rug, huh?

He sicced Richie on you two. You screeched and leapt behind the cage. Why did he have to start acting like a proper lion now?! Richie put all his weight onto the cage, and it crumbled almost immediately.

Luffy cheered and jumped out of the way, dragging you along with him. He stretched and jumped up and down, thoroughly enjoying his newfound freedom. “Finally, now I can actually do something!” He charged at Richie and Mohji, winding up his arm to deliver a blow, but Richie reacts faster. He swipes at Luffy, and the hit quite literally sends him flying. Not just flying a few feet, no, it sent him hurtling through several buildings.

Your mouth was agape. Sure, he’s made of rubber, but how can anyone be okay after something like that?! Praying that Richie likes you enough to not give chase, you sprint towards the rubble, hoping that he’ll be okay.

Much to your relief, you aren’t pursued. Much to your horror, however, you find several buildings toppled from Luffy being thrown into them. When you finally reach the last destroyed house, you catch sight of Nami and Boodle gawking at it.

“What are you doing? Help me dig him out!” Not waiting for them to pitch in, you start pulling off fallen beams and tossing shingles behind you. You can see one of his feet poking out of the rubble.

“Lucky, I don’t think you need to, there isn’t a chance that he survived that,” Nami put her hand on your shoulder and gently tried to pull you away, but you just shrugged her off and continued to dig. You had to at least try!

Suddenly, the fallen building shifted on its own. Then Luffy sprung out of it, looking perfectly fine, if a bit dirty.

“What?! How can you still be standing after that?!” Boodle stepped back in shock from the sight and you could hear Nami gasping behind you.

“I’m a rubber person! It’s gonna take a lot more than that to stop me,” Luffy declared proudly. He hopped down onto the ground and sprinted back towards where Richie and Mohji were. He sure is fast for someone who just went through what he did. All three of you followed after him, wanting to see where this was going.

It wasn’t until just now that it dawned on you how strange it was that Mohji and Richie were even here. Didn’t they get hit by that cannon? If they’re okay, then does that mean the others are, too? Damn, how weak was that cannon? Maybe letting it hit Luffy wouldn’t have been that dangerous afterall.

Up ahead, you catch sight of a rematch between Richie and Luffy. This time, Luffy was more prepared and dodged his attacks with ease. He then twisted his arms around several times over and grabbed the lion. As if Richie weighed nothing, Luffy flung him overhead and drove him into the ground. You couldn’t help but wince at the sight, pitying the lion even if he had previously attacked Luffy.

Mohji was also appalled at the treatment of his lion, but didn’t have time to do much since Luffy knocked him out in one hit.

Nami was horrified at the display. It seems she was as disturbed by Luffy’s powers as you were. “Pirates are insane, why would anyone ever want to associate with these freaks?” She mumbled more to herself than anyone.

If Luffy heard her, he didn’t react to it. All he did was pick up a box of dog food that was laying on the ground and make his way back to where you guys were initially.

Curious about what he was doing, you tagged along and could hear the other two not far behind. As you rounded the corner, you finally took notice of the active fire that was going on. That pet store you guys were by before had been set aflame since you’d last seen it. Did Mohji do this? Why?

Chouchou was howling pitifully in front of it. He looked like he’d been roughed up, with claw marks all over him. You suddenly felt a lot less bad for Richie.

Luffy slowly approached the dog and set the dog food next to him, “That store was your treasure, right? It’s not much, but I was able to save this for you.” He reached out and patted the dog on the head, which Chouchou surprisingly tolerated this time around.

You aren’t completely sure what Luffy is talking about here, you feel like you’re missing an important piece of information. Still, you can’t help but be moved. Did he go out of his way to help the dog even after his previous issues with him? That’s oddly sweet.

Maybe these guys aren’t so bad afterall. Unhinged, yes, but at the very least they’re decent people. Perhaps you will stick around a while longer.

It would appear that you weren’t the only one moved by the display. Boodle clutched the spear he was carrying tighter, looking like he was on the verge of tears, “I can’t believe I’ve let this get so out of hand. I’ve been a part of this town since it was founded forty years ago. I helped build it. Me and the townsfolk poured so much into this town only for some lowlife pirate to come by and try and take it all for himself.” He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance with a burning resolve, “I’m done letting this continue, this is ending here and now! I’m going to bring an end to his reign even if it kills me!”

Mayor Boodle raised his spear in the air and charged towards where Buggy and his crew were stationed. Nami called out after him, warning that this was a bad idea, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Should we stop him?” You can’t imagine this is going to end well for him. This feels like watching someone’s grandpa go to war.

Neither of them were given a chance to answer. The deafening boom of a cannon going off cut through the air as several buildings toppled in its wake. Horrifyingly, one of them was the house Zoro was in.

All of you were in a stunned silence. How many times were you going to see people get crushed in collapsing buildings today? What was this? A superhero movie?

… What’s a superhero movie?

The remains of the building shuddered, then lifted, and you saw a green head of hair pop out. “Can’t get any damn sleep around here,” Zoro looked annoyed more than anything, as if you’d simply woken him up again and not like he’d just survived numerous events that should have been fatal

Luffy cackled, “Let’s go Zoro, we’re gonna kick that big nosed clown’s ass!”

“I don’t think Zoro’s in any shape to be ‘kicking ass’ right now.” Did Luffy forget about Zoro being stabbed?

Zoro, who was still working on climbing out of the rubble, groaned at this, “Didn’t I tell you that you worry too much? Quit fussing. I got some sleep, I’m fine.”

Does he think sleep is a cure-all? He must be able to tell that you’re going to argue with him, because as soon as he steps down, he takes off with Luffy in the same direction Boodle went. You called out after them, but they distinctly ignored you.

“They’re a bunch of lunatics,” you muttered, staring at their rapidly retreating forms.

Nami laughed, “Yeah, well they’re your lunatics, right?”

“I guess so,” you admit. Even if they are insane, you can feel yourself becoming fond of them.

Both of you follow behind them at a light jog. They’re out of sight, but you’re sure you’ll be able to hear them soon enough. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there, but you’ll just have to figure it out as you go along.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #luffy #zoro roronoa #nami #cat burglar nami #mohji the beast tamer #buggy the clown #lucky break #yandere

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lawrites · 2 months

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Just Enough (NSFW)

Jonathan Crane x Plus Size Gender Neutral Reader

You've always fantasized about Jon and his Scarecrow persona...well...what if he felt the same?

CW: dead dove, talk about getting dosed with fear toxin, Jon being creepy and scary, bit of non-con if you look at it but nothing explicit.

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Do you feel a little bit bad that you are attracted to Jonathan while he's in his full scarecrow costume? Well...no...but you probably should, which does make you feel bad.

It's no secret that Jon is a slight man, and his figure, while attractive to you, is not exactly intimidating when dressed in his sweater vests and khakis. But when donning his alter ego? He drapes himself in flowing, dark fabric that hides him, making you see shapes, limbs, even faces where they aren't there. It builds him up, even makes him intimidating.

His fingers are extend into needles which look like claws, to you. It makes you fantasize about how they would feel...tracing along your body...pressing into your skin. And his mask...it's a grim visage with deep, dark buttons for eyes and an eerie smile stitched in blood-colored thread.

All of that together would make most people run, even without the knowledge of who The Scarecrow is. But you? You've found yourself crossing your legs more often than not as he starts getting ready to head out. You usually lounge around, wearing a comfortable set of pajamas and watching him don his terrifying (sexy) garb, trying to babble away about any inane thing so he can't tell how much you want to jump his bones.

Tonight is a bit different. Jonathan doesn't know it, but you have something pretty for him under your usual comfy clothes. He hasn't told you of any plans to go out, so you are hoping that he will return from work, collapse, and let you spoil him for a bit. He does work so hard, and you would love to give him a nice treat. And maybe...you could bring up something you've been wanting to try for a bit.

You return from your daydreaming to your current focus, lazily stirring the chicken stew you have put together and making sure there are no burned bits on the bottom. The slight chill outside is making you feel like you need to take care of the handsome, skinny Professor. He must be freezing.

And with that thought, you hear the jangle of keys being inserted clumsily into the front door. You smile and turn the burner to low heat, giving the stew one last stir and tapping the spoon on the edge before laying it down. You wipe your hands and hurry to the living room just as Jon opens the door.

"Jon! Hi! Welcome back!" You do your best to not immediately run into his arms.

He looks a bit haggard, shaking off the bits of snow from his coat, but he also looks invigorated. His eyes glow with excitement. "Darling!" You blush. "I have had the most wonderful idea for a target for my fear toxin. It must be done tonight but I think-"

You don't catch the rest of his sentence, feeling yourself collapse a bit in defeat. His sentence ends and you manage to get out, "That's great Jon!" Before turning to go back to the kitchen, trying to hide your irrational tears.

It wasn't like he promised to be available tonight, so the only person who let you down tonight is yourself. You shouldn't hype yourself up with plans when you know he has goals that he has to achieve. It's time to start being more realistic, especially with Jon as a partner. He would understand your feelings, but would be more annoyed by them than anything.

As you hear him set down his briefcase and meander around the living room, you let a few tears fall before wiping them away and trying to get yourself in order.

"I-I made chicken stew, Jon! If you want some!! It looked cold out there."

Jon's voice responds, too close and right behind you, "Sounds delicious."

You jump, involuntarily, causing a bit of the hot soup to splash on your hand. A hiss leaves you as the sting registers, reddening the back of your hand.

Jon tuts and turns you around, immediately inspecting your hand gently. He grabs a paper towel and wipes the soup off, holding it up to the light and turning it to and fro. He nods at it, almost to verify that you aren't seriously injured. "I'm sorry, dear, I just wanted to see you a bit afraid." His smile is wolfish. "You know I would never hurt you without your consent first."

He winks, and you can't help the blush that takes over your face. One of his hands comes up to lightly brush your cheek, and it makes you want to swoon a bit. At first, you think maybe he is just trying to comfort you after your injury, but then you realize that he is tracing the tear tracks that must be visible, moving his thumb up and down, his brow furrowing.

"I have to do this, tonight, darling. And I'll be back, don't worry." You can't escape his gaze, and your blush deepens a bit further when you realize that he knows why you are upset in the first place. Of course he does, it's his job to read people.

You nod, still a bit sad that your plans won't work but happy that he at least is acknowledging your feelings. "I understand." His brow stays furrowed, and he opens his mouth like he is about to argue, but you cut him off. "Really! I do. I...I want you to succeed, Jon. Your work is important to you and you are important to me."

He seems to at least be placated by your answer, releasing your cheek and moving to hold both of your hands instead. Silence takes over for a bit, both of you unsure how to change the subject. You start, unsure of what he wants you to do tonight. "Would you like me to stay up? I can wait until you get ba-"

He vehemently shakes his head, cutting you off. "Don't worry, I may be out late. Go to bed at your usual time and get a full night's rest."

He releases your hands from his gentle hold, clapping his own together. "Well! I must have some of this stew and then head out to work. You are right, it was cold out there," he admits with a sheepish grin.

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Watching Jonathan get ready to go was even more taxing than usual today, knowing that you had lingerie underneath your clothes the whole time. The temptation to tear them off, showing him what he would miss by leaving you here tonight...maybe timing it so he would be in his full scarecrow costume...

It had you fantasizing and looking off in the distance instead of prattling on as usual. Jonathan may have noticed this, as he reached out with one gloved hand, a needle extending to gently press right into the softness under your chin. Even if you weren't paying attention before, you are now. You try not to breathe too heavily, knowing that even a slight prick could have you seeing visions for hours.

"You'll be good and go to bed on time for me? Hmm?" His voice is deeper, lower, when he's in the mask. It comes out whispered, like he wants you to lean in to hear him and pierce yourself on his needle. Your thighs subtly shift together.

You would nod...but that's probably not the best idea. "O-of course, Jon. I'll go to bed on time, for you."

His needle clad finger retracts, and he reaches over to find his cloak, placing it over his shoulders in a sweeping motion. "Good. I'll be back soon."

And with what seems to be a swish of his cloak, a bathing of your vision in darkness, he's gone.

Thank God.

If you weren't going to get any direct action from him tonight, especially after he seemed to be more loving than usual, then you needed to find relief in other ways before bed. Having his hands on you and knowing that it would lead nowhere tonight was torture.

You hum to yourself, stripping off your clothes and looking at what you had picked out in the mirror. A burnt orange babydoll shift, in his colors. The sheer, silky fabric hits just right at the midpoint of your hips, which allows the tiny panties you had on to peek through. So much discomfort, if you're being honest, was worth at least a bit of enjoyment, even if it's just on your part.

Suddenly a chill moves through you, once you are only in your lingerie. Someone's here, your body is telling you. They're in the window. You glance at the window...and see nothing. Shaking your head and trying to convince yourself not to look, (this is how people die in horror movies!), you walk slowly over to the window to check, pulling back the sheer curtains.

You see nothing there. Chuckling, reminding yourself that you are on the 8th floor and the fire escape is so flimsy you would hear someone breathing on it...you walk away. But the nervousness doesn't fade as it should. It sits, uneasy, in the depths of your body.

It works for you, in an odd way. Maybe Jon had a point about the intersection between fear and pleasure...because your nipples had pebbled in the cold air near the window and the chill you experienced from the fear. It makes them sensitive to the silky fabric encasing your chest.

Finalizing your preparations, you pull back the comforters, set down two massive towels, and turn the lights off, leaving only one lamp on your bedside table.

Settling back against the pillows, you reach for a silky bag you keep in your bedside drawer. The toy encased inside is lovingly maintained, batteries replaced and the outside sanitized after each session.

The bottle of lube is opened by your hands, carefully measuring out a perfect portion and running them up and down the main shaft of the toy. Your mind drifts, already thinking about Jonathan. You imagine it's him you are running your hands over and an involuntary sigh of his name leaves your mouth.

The fire escape creaks.

Ending all prep work as your heart drops to your stomach, you freeze and your muscles stiffen. Carefully placing the toy down, you walk slowly over to the window again, feeling your heart beat in your throat.

Step. Beat.

Your hands grab the curtain and yank it back, trying to stare into the inky blackness of a Gotham night. And you, again, see nothing. The howling of the wind outside picks up, and your eyes are drawn to a slightly loose panel of the fire escape as it clanks, metal on metal.

You must be on edge tonight, being alone, you tell yourself. There is no reason to think that anyone would be coming for you. Jonathan must just...be in your head. Maybe he did prick you with some fear toxin earlier...or maybe it's just hard for your brain to focus on anything when he's not near.

Tired of standing by the coldness seeping out of the window and hugging yourself to stay warm, you make your way back to your bed. Your eyes fall on your toy...right.

And suddenly, a wave of warmth takes the place of the coldness. You had finished lubing it up before, so all that was left to do was to prepare yourself.

Laying down right in the middle of your towels, you sigh as a hand traces over your chest. You see thin, clever fingers doing the work in your mind's eye.

Jonathan. You sigh again.

The wind howls, the fire escape creaks, and you ignore it. Your thoughts are consumed with your love, instead.

Running your hands down the sheer fabric encasing your body, hearing his gorgeous voice in your mind, "My colors encasing your form...does that make you mine?"

Your hands grip at the softer flesh of your hips like he would, digging your nails in and gasping. "Yes Jonathan!"

Another creak, but you don't even notice it this time.

Desperately, you reach for the toy, surprisingly keyed up tonight and already ready for it. (You try not to think about Jon's theories any more). Pushing aside the fabric covering you, you tease around with the toy and your own fingers for a bit, moaning and wanting to be filled, soon.

You are so, so desperate, that you don't even notice the window opening. Maybe it was the hum of the toy vibrating...maybe it was the expert way that the perpetrator knew the window. But either way, you don't see a shape moving in the dark.

You gently ease the toy in, letting out a groan of Jon's name. "Jon, please!"

The shape gracefully keeps to the shadows, pausing when your groan reaches its ears. It stops, then, watching as you fill yourself slowly, letting out mumbles of nonsense around your pretty sounds.

You get a feeling that something is watching you, somewhere in the back of your mind. But, as you've gotten that feeling all night, you ignore it, favoring the pleasure coursing through your veins as you manage to work the entire length of the toy into you with a gasp.

Deciding that Jonathan would tease you, you let it still for a second, and then your mind imagines him filling you, asking you what you want around your moans.

"What do you want? You are so desperate, I can't understand you. Use your words, darling."

"Jonathan, please, move!"

And just as you begin to pull the toy out of you, the shape pounces out of the dark.

With expertise, the shape finds your mouth quickly, silencing your scream. The feel of its body surrounds you, a cloak and sharp claws are what you feel against your skin as you kick and struggle.

And then, a singular claw finds its way to the soft underside of your chin. Your mind jumps back to only an hour earlier, when your lover pulled the same move...

You pause, for just a moment. "J-Jon?"

A dark chuckle reaches your ears. "Clever mouse."

Expecting him to move the needle away, you are instead surprised to hear his breathing pick up as he traces it down your body, digging into your flesh just enough to not break it. You can't see his actual eyes in his mask, but you notice how his head angles towards where the toy landed on the towels. His mask snaps right back to where that toy was only moments ago. "I noticed, you know." His voice rumbles out.

You are a bit dazed. Pleasure, fear, pleasure, fear, pleasure...it's left your mind floating, especially since Jon is actually here, now. His needle traces over your nipple and it makes you squeak out in response: "W-what?"

Another chuckle, and suddenly you feel the rough texture of his mask against your cheek as he leans in to whisper. "I noticed, all those times you wanted to fuck me in my Scarecrow costume."

He pulls back, and you can't help your reaction to his voice, clenching around nothing and watching his mask angle to take it in. Hoping you didn't somehow make him uncomfortable, after the initial onslaught of warmth from his words, you try to explain yourself, "Oh, Jon, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

He cuts you off by carefully gripping your chin with his gloved hand so his needles don't pierce it, forcing your mouth to meet his. A deep groan emanates from his throat, making him pull apart from you after he ravaged your mouth. "Dear, do not apologize. I am delighted you find me attractive in this form, for you see..."

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hugging you to him tightly and whispering into your ear, "...you are my perfect test subject for a theory about my toxin."

You balk a bit, "T-test subject?" Trying to get out of his hold, he instead keeps you close, chuckling.

"Please, darling, let me explain. For you, at least, I'll need...informed consent." If you could see his face through his mask, you can tell he would be smirking by the tone of his voice. The needle continues tracing your body, moving to your ass and digging slightly into the soft flesh, making Jonathan pause. "God, I've been thinking about piercing you here for ages, now. Testing how the toxin causes reactions when injected in different areas of your... delectable form."

But the needle keeps moving and he continues his explanation, as well. "You have been paying attention to my lectures about fear and lust, haven't you pet?" You nod, unable to use your voice as his needle is tracing up and down your soft side, paying special attention to your hip. "Good." You shiver as his usual baritone deepens, and Jonathan lets out an exhale of air to show his amusement.

"All of my theories are, so far, theories...at least where my toxin is concerned. But seeing you so eager to...what is the term...jump my bones in my cloak and mask made me consider a new experiment." Your whole body is keyed up thanks to the low sound of his voice and his needle tracing the softness at your belly, picking up the silky fabric with it.

"You see, I need to test my theories, and I need a subject that is not only attracted to me, but that I am attracted to as well." His mask nuzzles into your neck, "And you obviously fit the criteria, my pretty crow." His hips press against you from behind, causing you to moan as you feel his cock hardening already.

Another chuckle can be heard from behind his mask, "And you have already given me wonderful notes to start with, haven't you?" He grinds against your ass, making you whimper and causing his hands to dig deeper into your hips, careful to avoid his needles, "Calling my name while so afraid of what was outside your window. Were you really that desperate for me?"

You nod, "J-Johnathan, please! I've been ready for you all night." He groans, and then he suddenly moves your body so you are facing him. When you try to get closer, he once again presses a singular needle into the softness of your chin, keeping you at bay. He pushes up with it, forcing you to look up at him to avoid being pierced.

His voice comes out of the mask, flustered, "W-we'll keep you in the apartment. I don't need anyone else seeing what is mine." The last word comes out in a growl, his needle moving from your chin to the side of your neck. You obediently keep looking up at him.

His voice struggles with the next sentence, seeming to be affected by your gaze. "T-this will give us the best results, and I-I'll start with a low dose." He gathers himself, more sure, "What do you say, pet?"

Your mind struggles, trying to consider what this truly entails. His fear toxin isn't a joke, it has seriously injured people in the past...and even if it is a low dose, you know you'll be out of your mind, not even yourself for a while.

His mask gazes down at you, unfeeling, unreadable, but you can hear his breathing. He's trying to keep it subtle, but he's gasping for air, already desperate for you and this as much as you are for him. And...as much as Jonathan is terrifying...if he truly thinks you are in danger, you have enough trust in him to stop you and possibly administer an antitoxin. It will hurt him, but he will do it. You just have to trust him.

"Jonathan..." You look unsure. He gently traces the needle up and down your neck, making you shiver. "Pretty crow, I need a concrete answer." Convincing yourself, you reach up to grab his hand.

"Yes. I'll do it. Just...treat me gently."

If you could see behind his mask, you would see his face practically split in two by his grin. "Excellent. And don't worry."

You feel the sting of his needle as it pierces your neck. "I'll give you just enough to make you whimper for me."

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

So yeah. uhhhh lemme know what you think lol

#lawrites #plus size reader #plus size fic #x reader #reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x plus size reader #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x plus size reader #batman rogues x reader #batman rogues x plus size reader

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starsarefire824 · 10 months

Text

“Will- you are not fine,” Mike says adamantly, interrupting Will’s thoughts of escape. “And you haven’t been for a while. I mean—sometimes I feel like—” He huffs at him. “--- Like we aren’t even friends anymore? ” Will fidgets under his piercing gaze. It’s dark and accusing. And hurt?

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, hating how hurt is building up in his own chest. How dare he put this all on him? He isn’t the one that avoided him or constantly chose to hang out with his girlfriend. He isn’t the one who hasn’t kept one promise he made in California. Will moves further away from Mike, trying to level his breathing. His back hits the cool tile wall and he rests his palms against it to quell the feeling that the room is closing in on him.

“I mean—I mean…I thought we were a team,” Mike says, still closing the distance between them. “You said we could be a team again.”

“Yeah, and I meant it!” Will tells him adamantly, then looks away, unable to hold his gaze.

“Well, I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like you would rather not even be in the same room with me. Sometimes it feels like just the thought of you being around me… repulses you, or makes you upset.”

Will truly observes him then, the sadness flashing across Mike’s face making his heart ache. He’s covered in shadows in the dim light, but it’s obvious in the way his mouth twitches and how his shoulders collapse in on themselves. How had he never seen it before? How can Mike possibly think that? When all Will’s ever wanted is to be near him?

“That’s- that’s not— That’s just not true, Mike,” he tells him, determined to change his mind. Will blinks and Mike’s face changes, his brow creasing deeply and something venomous creeps across his features. Will freezes against the wall, and pushes his back harder into it, suddenly realizing there really is nowhere to go. Mike is closing in on him. “You’re a liar,” he declares, barely a whisper, looming above him with angry tears in his eyes and breath hitching in his throat. He’s so close and Will feels the angry heat radiating off of his skin, feels his resentful, jittery energy, as if he’s about to burst out of his skin. All the while he's moving closer, his face suddenly mere inches from Will’s. He can’t shake the feeling that Mike is waiting for him to say something. To do something.

“No,” Will pleads, stumbling over his words. “You’re wrong– I-”

Suddenly Mike's entire expression shifts, and then his eyes are so black and lit with an intensity Will can no longer decipher. He freezes as Mike encroaches on him, and it seems to all happen so quickly his brain can’t keep up. Yet, somehow they’re in slow motion. Mike’s anger has turned into something else, and Will watches as one tear trails down his cheek. He raises his brows in concern, and Will can’t be sure what it means, but his expression is urgent, as if he’s convinced he will disappear at any moment. Will's entire body thrums with nervousness and he breathes in, biting down on his bottom lip.

Mike’s gaze lowers to Will’s mouth as he does so, eyes still impossibly dark- and- needy. The look on his face makes Will shudder, the frustrating white heat pulsing through him again. Except now it’s like a volatile vibration that shoots out from his core and races through his veins and down every limb. He can feel it hum in the tips of his fingers and the bottoms of his feet. The change in Mike is so sudden that Will’s unable to comprehend how they’ve ended up here, pressed together in the dark. Can’t comprehend how the heat that radiates off Mike’s skin and burns inside his irises sets Will on fire. -Tangled.

#byler #byler fanart #byler fanfic #will byers #mike wheeler #will has powers #will byers has powers #henry creel #vecna #will vs vecna #stranger things

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starogeorgina · 5 months

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐧

Paring: Joel Miller × reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of attempted SA, violence, age gap relationship, blood, kidnapping, mentions of child abuse

Chapter: 1.02

You have to fight to keep the rage from your face, not wanting to give Ellie another reason to disappear again. And though you felt guilty for sending her out into the freezing cold in the first place, you thought it was better for her to collect buckets of snow rather than witness Joel vomiting. The young girl practically leaps down the staircase into the basement, dropping a small bag in front of you without an explanation. You release Joel’s hand and whisper to Ellie, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I have medicine for Joel."

After escaping the raiders, Joel collapsed, falling off his horse, and you’d managed to help him into the base of a house in a small abandoned town. When he began burning up, you sent Ellie outside to get a bucket of snow to try and cool him down with. When she never came back, you tried to look for her, but with the heavy snowfall, you lost Ellie’s footprints and have been ill with worry since. “Where from, on the other side of the country?"

“I made a deal to trade the deer I killed with some guy. He was a fucking weirdo.”

You could tell by the flush on her cheeks that she was hiding something, but you didn’t have time to pry it out of her. Joel's stab wound had become infected, and he needed the medication immediately. You give him a shot of penicillin on his side, which causes your stomach to turn.

“What guys? Did they follow you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were more pissed at yourself than with Ellie; she was just a young girl trying to be helpful, unaware of the danger she was putting herself in.

—

Joel lets out a quiet moan as you link your fingers with his. “Where is she?” He asks weakly, “Ellie.”

You point to the corner of the room where Ellie was sleeping with her back pressed against the wall, “asleep.”

Content that Ellie was safe Joel turns his attention to you. He brushes strands of hair behind your ear and says, “You look tired.”

“Really? Because I thought I looked great.”

A pained smile crosses his face. “I don’t need you to watch over me.”

Admittedly, Joel was looking a lot better after a few more injections of penicillin, and he wasn’t as clammy as before, but he was still in and out of consciousness. You sigh, “I need to keep watch.”

“Suppose, but I’ll listen out if you want to close your eyes.” Joel grunts as he shuffles over on the dirty, worn-out mattress he’s laying on, giving you enough space to settle down beside him.

Hesitantly, you put your head on his chest, careful to make sure you don’t put any weight on his body. You feel comfort for the first time since you left Jackson when Joel kisses your forehead and gently twiddles a strand of your hair.

—

You press the back of your hand on Joel’s forehead, trying to gauge what his temperature is. He had fallen into a deep sleep a few hours previously, and it was difficult to get him to take a sip of water. Ellie had to pry his mouth open while you poured it in.

“Are you dating?”

Your head snaps up to meet Ellie’s burning gaze. “What?”

“You and Joel, are you dating?”

“Um, no, we aren’t dating.” The past few days were made up of fleeting touches and shared looks. You thought they had gone unnoticed, but it seems you were wrong.

“But you’ve slept together.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Why would you do that if you aren’t together? It’s just going to make everything more complicated than it is,” Ellie says, sounding so much older than she is. “Adults are so fucking dumb at times.”

Ellie probably didn’t even fully understand what she was talking about. You were sure she had only learned the basics of sex at school, but she was too young to understand how. You feel bad seeing the faraway look on her face. Ellie had started to see Joel as a father figure, and it was possible that she thought he would choose you over her. “I promise nothing will change—what was that?”

Ellie climbs up onto an old washing machine and looks out of the window. “Oh shit. It’s that guy, David, with a group of men, and all of them have guns.”

“Tell me everything, now.”

Quickly, Ellie fills you in on how the man she met before was part of the same community of raiders that attacked you at the university and would likely be hunting you down to get revenge on Joel for killing the man who attacked you.

Panic begins to set in, as you only have a few moments to figure out what to do. You zip up your jacket and make sure the gun is loaded before placing it in your holster. “Everything me and Joel do is to keep you alive, so I need you to do everything I tell you to, okay?”

Ellie nods.

“Find a place to hide and don’t come out. I’m going to lead the men away from here, and whatever happens, you stay with Joel, okay?”

Slowly, she nods again, tears glistening in her eyes.

You lean forward and kiss her on the forehead before climbing up onto the washing machine and cracking one of the windows open; thankfully, you were able to squeeze through it. Silently, you prayed. The three of you made it through the day and managed to not get captured by these assholes.

—

Despite agreeing to do what you said, Ellie decided to try to help you lead the men away from Joel, which derailed your plan. You had managed to go unnoticed as you snuck along to the house at the end of the street and set it on fire. Once they were distracted by the fire, you would mount the horses and go in the opposite direction, but just as the group of men noticed the smoke, Ellie rode the horse down the street to try and lead them into the woods.

When you see Ellie fall off the horse, which has just been shot, you try to reach her before the group of men do. You fire at them, “Stay the fuck away from her!”

You almost reach her in time, but you’re tackled from behind and pinned down to the ground.

“There’s no need to be so afraid,” a man says before picking up Ellie's unconscious body, and immediately you know something is off about him. You could sense the evil presence around him. “My name is David, and I mean you no harm.”

“Put her down now! You son of a—”

—

Your throat burns as the last of the food in your stomach exists in your body. As soon as you saw so much blood on your hands, you began to vomit. You were knocked out and carried to some community in the middle of nowhere, where you were chained to the wall like a wild animal ready for slaughter.

You had made yourself small and crouched. In the corner, one of the men from before tried to offer you a drink of water.

“James, is it?”

“Yeah."

The look in his eyes is almost tender, as if he feels bad for what he’s doing. You swing your leg up and kick him in the face, bursting his nose open. “That’s for shooting my fucking horse. Now, where is she?"

“You’re going to regret that, stupid bitch!” He hisses before storming out of the small room, slamming the door behind him.

—

David towers over you as he tries to convince you that he is a good guy and that everything he does is for the good of his people. He had handed you a form to fill out, which was mainly questions about your menstrual cycle and told you everything you needed to know. He was searching for healthy women to breed them like cattle.

In a neutral tone, you say, “I’ve met men like you before. I know what you are.”

“And what’s that?” David asks, amused, thinking he has won you over.

“No man focuses on a little girl so much unless they are sick in the head,” you say before spitting in his face. “You’re a fucking pedophile!”

“I think you’ve talked enough for today.”

You pull on the chain keeping you attached to the wooden wall and loudly scream, “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will fucking skin you alive!”

—

You stumble out onto the thick snow; if it weren’t for Joel and Ellie calling your name, you would have obviously been in their presence. Tears fall from your eyes as you continue to limp straight ahead towards the icy river. Your bare arms start to feel numb as the cold nips at them.

You had no choice; you had no voice.

Until the day you died, the nightmares of what just happened would haunt you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see the crimson trail you’ve left behind—a mixture of your own blood and the blood of those you killed dripped from your body. Your eyes return to the front of you as the reality of what you did starts to become overwhelming. The second you feel a hand touching your shoulder, you begin to scream and lash out. “Get away from me! Get away!”

“It’s me! It’s just me!”

“Get off of me!” You’re unable to scratch and slap when your arms are bound with something. “Let me go! Just let me go, please!”

“Stop, it’s me; it’s Joel.”

Slowly you stop lashing out, your chest having as you take gulps of air as you sob. “J—Joel? Joel, they—they—”

They are cannibalistic freaks who tried to force themselves on me with the purpose of getting me pregnant.

“Shh,” he pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you; you’re safe.”

You feel Ellie hugging you from behind, her head resting against your shoulder blades. It takes you a moment to register that Joel has removed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Once you’ve regained control of your breathing, you lift your head and quietly ask, “What do we do now?”

“We’ll find shelter and get you cleaned up.”

You nod, and stepping back, you fix your arms into the sleeve of the jacket and fasten it. Joel leads the way, his fingers tightly gripping his shotgun. You and Ellie share a look that cuts deep. From the look in her eyes, you can tell she’s as traumatized as you are.

#the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #run

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rosepetalsinwinter · 1 year

Text

Look At Me — Bucky Barnes

Pairing: 40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Word count: 11,951

Summary: She never expected to fall so deeply for Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes, what with his skirt-chasing tendencies and cocky personality. Except how was she to know war would change everything she thought she wanted? Suddenly, she wanted him.

Warnings: angst, violence, WW2, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, death, torture, whump, HYDRA, post-serum Steve Rodgers, kissing, angst with happy ending. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Note: I got a little carried away... oops. Anyway, happy reading!

Ao3│Wattpad│Ko-fi

Main Masterlist

Enjoy!

"We'll set up camp here. The sun's getting low, and it's not safe to travel at night. We'll freeze to death if we try." James "Bucky" Barnes flung his pack to the ground and stretched his aching limbs over his head, sore from walking all day.

The infantry had left camp early that morning, just before dawn. They were to travel across the Eastern Italian border and meet the British battalion just south of Azzano. General McGinnis planned to march with a regiment of his own a week after news of the 107th's safe arrival reached camp.

"Should I start a fire, Sergeant?" Private Andrew Eaton asked, rubbing his hands together. The sun was setting, spreading a soft glow over the snow-ridden forest. "Warm us up?" His eyes flicked toward the girl, and she stiffened under his gaze.

She was a nurse, travelling with the soldiers because of her immaculate record. She had never lost a man before; one could be on the brink of death and would survive if she got her hands on them. Her expertise was unmatched and desperately needed on the Eastern Front, where the allies were losing men at an alarming rate.

Bucky shook his head. "We're too close to enemy lines. The smoke will draw attention, and we can't risk that."

Multiple eyes drifted to the nurse's shivering form, some filled with pity, others with concern. She had not once complained about the walk nor the temperature, but she was no soldier. Everyone knew her body was at risk of collapse; unaccustomed to the harsh terrain of the Dolomite Mountains, her back hunched with the weight of her pack, her eyes drooped with fatigue, cheeks crimson with cold and body trembling.

Mimicking Bucky, she, too, flung her bag on the frozen soil and dropped unceremoniously on it, finally giving in to her exhaustion.

"You sure about that, Sergeant Barnes?" Eaton questioned. The girl widened her eyes in alarm. It was one thing to hold the soldiers back with her slow pace and decreased stamina, another to put them all in danger. "Maybe we should risk it."

Typically, questioning a superior officer was inappropriate and inexcusable, but not one person reacted negatively to the Private's question. Murmurs of approval spread through the men.

Bucky turned toward the nurse, taking in her form. Like the rest of his soldiers, he also worried for the girl—more than he should have. She did not have any endurance training. She had not even left the relative safety of the camp until now, and it took everything in Bucky to stop himself from carrying her back to base camp, where she would be safe from the threat of gunfire and death.

He opened his mouth—to either agree with Eaton or disagree with him—no one could know. The girl chose that moment to let go of her hesitations. "I once spent an entire night out in the streets of France with just a pair of gloves and a tattered jacket," she rushed out. At the confused looks, she clarified, "in the middle of December." More looks. "In negative twenty-five-degree weather..." her voice was slowly tapering into shyness. "I am alive, am I not?"

"How much is that in Fahrenheit, Miss?" And the conversation moved forward.

The soldiers insisted on lighting at least a small fire for the girl's sake, igniting one under the cover of the dense coniferous trees. While the men began to set up camp for the night, Bucky stood there with a puckered brow and a frown marring his features, before shaking his head and helping them.

The nurse decided she would not be the one to risk them all. After another twenty minutes or so of bickering, she finally lost her temper. "You might as well know by now; I'm inherently stubborn, and nothing any of you say or do will change my mind."

After that, a perimeter was established, lookouts were posted, and tents were begrudgingly set up. Some soldiers retired to rest while others passed down alcohol, huddled against each other to conserve heat.

"It'll warm you up." Bucky sat down next to the shivering girl on a collapsed, decaying tree. He thrust a flask toward her mouth, urging her to drink from it. He took a sip when she made no move, clearing his throat and asking her again. "Will you drink some?"

His voice was sweet and kind, and she despised it. She pursed her lips in response and leaned away. "No, thank you," she replied while her teeth chattered.

Bucky frowned in annoyance. Her stubbornness, which he usually found amusing, was turning out to be somewhat of a hindrance.

"Sorry, doll, but it wasn't a question." He thrust the flask toward her once more, belligerent in his attempt.

She leaned farther away, and Bucky followed her, trapping her against the tree. "No, thank you. You know I don't drink alcohol—."

"Yes!" he suddenly grew frustrated and ran a trembling hand through his brown locks. Somehow the girl always managed to get on his nerve. "I know you don't drink, alright? And I know you hate cursing, that you're stubborn as hell, and that you talk funny because 'proper use of language is important.' I also know that you'll die of hypothermia if you don't warm yourself up, and I rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

The girl inhaled sharply, her emotions in overdrive. She didn't realize how much he noticed her little quirks.

"I'd rather not have to explain to Colonel Phillips that we lost our only good nurse to stubbornness."

"Now, your whining might've worked in Brooklyn," Bucky continued. "Especially with Steve backing you up; but it won't work here. If you haven't noticed, we're not in New York anymore."

"I have eyes," the girl snapped, convinced she was nothing but a burden to him and the soldiers. She wondered again why Colonel Philips sent her, of all people, with the 107th. She didn't think she was that good. "You won't have to explain a thing. Don't worry. I won't die so easily."

Her words were laced with contempt and a hint of something else. Remorse, Bucky realized with a start, though before he could ponder on it any longer, she began to rise, seemingly done with their conversation.

"Damn it, woman!" Bucky's loud voice caught the entire camp's attention. He grabbed her forearm and yanked her back down. She winced when her bottom landed on the trunk a bit too hard. "I'll force this down your throat if I have to."

The girl blanched, shocked by Bucky's authoritative tone. "N-no, you will not!" She made an effort to appear commanding, but her stutter betrayed her. She was scared he would make good on his promise.

"You do not want to test me," he seethed. There was a look in Bucky's eyes she had not seen before. A crazed, almost feral glint in his pupils.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her insides warmed. She chalked it up to adrenaline. "I'm not that cold anymore."

Bucky said nothing, just continued to stare at her with the feral look still in his eyes.

Seconds passed—seconds that felt like minutes—before he spoke. "We're sleeping in one tent tonight." She didn't know why he was telling her that. "Together. To preserve body heat." She was still confused. "You either drink this, girl," he thrust the flask toward her lips once more. "or I'll make you sleep between my men. God knows they haven't touched a woman in months. So they won't have any complaints."

She argued with him, calling him petty names, and stuttering through excuses. "Y-you—you're."

"What?" he taunted. "Say it. Am I an asshole? A fucking idiot? Go on, don't be shy."

"You're an incompetent Sergeant. The most incompetent I've ever met!"

"I'm the only Sergeant you've ever met," Bucky deadpanned. "Seriously? That the best you can do?"

It was. "You're not that cruel! You're bluffing, like you bluffed about throwing me in the East River last year when I went out with that doctor."

"That doctor was a fucking creep with a criminal record," Bucky seethed. The girl's refusal went unheard. "And I wasn't bluffing. If Steve didn't stop me, you would have been swimming with the fish."

She muttered her annoyance under her breath, but Bucky caught it.

"God as my witness, I'll take you over my shoulder and lie on top of you if I have to!" One look into his eyes, and she could tell he was not lying.

When again he thrust the flask toward her mouth, she begrudgingly took it from him, bringing the cool metal to her lips. When the alcohol's bitter smell reached her, she almost gagged at the potent stench.

"I can't!" the girl choked on a sob, shoving the flask back into Bucky's hands.

A smirk adorned his pink lips, so unlike the anger she had been expecting. "Don't say I didn't warn ya." And before she could react, her world had been turned upside down.

Her legs went up, and her head went down. For a few moments, she froze, unable to understand what had happened. When a hand landed on her bottom, she gasped, realizing that Bucky had indeed made good on his promise—taken her over his shoulder.

When she screamed out of frustration, he shushed her. "Don't make me gag you."

The girl felt red, hot embarrassment at being treated like a child in front of all the soldiers. She scratched fruitlessly at Bucky's back, only to end up clutching his fatigues with numb fingers as he carried her across the clearing. At least the men had half a mind to keep their gaze averted when she was thrown unceremoniously inside one of the tents.

"You act like a caveman," she hissed, looking up at his scrunched brow.

Bucky's eyes softened, and all previous frustration and anger left him. Her insult amused him, and he plopped down next to her with a silent huff. "And you act like a brat."

The girl's answering words died on her tongue at Andrew Eaton's voice. "Lose the frown, Miss. There's not a single man here who wouldn't take a bullet for you, Barnes included."

A couple more soldiers entered the small tent, taking up the rest of the space. The girl ignored them, inhaling deeply. "I was perfectly fine outside, Andrew. Not cold at all."

A quick laugh from Bucky. "Is that why your lips are blue, and you're shaking like a leaf? 'Cause, you're not cold at all?"

"—He's just tryna keep you alive," Andrew interrupted before another argument could ensue.

A laugh bubbled up in the girl's throat before she could stop it. For some reason, the suggestion that Bucky Barnes was keeping her alive made her hysterical. Bucky Barnes, the man who couldn't keep a plant alive. She laughed until her stomach hurt, then she took a deep breath, clutched her middle while she fell backwards, and continued laughing.

"Fucking hell? She's crazy," the girl heard Bucky curse under his breath, but she was so far gone in delirium she could not be bothered to scold him for it.

"At least she's not frownin' anymore," Andrew offered.

The girl laughed harder, curling in on herself. Bucky stared at her with confused amusement, barely concealed, and chuckled softly. She was the most bizarre person he had ever met. So odd. Lately, he caught himself smiling more in her presence than ever before, finding it harder to resist her contagious delights. She was a constant amusement for the rest of the soldiers as well. Entertaining, though stressful.

She was still very clumsy, tripping on rocks and slipping down declines. A soldier needed to be watching her all the time, and that soldier, unbeknownst to her, was generally Bucky. He had grown eyes in the back of his head, trying to ensure she did not hurt herself. The girl had touched the hearts of all the men, his most of all, though he tried to conceal the fact by being curt and severe with her. Despite that, he did find pleasure in being able to tame her.

Ludovic Fournier, the Frenchman, muttered a phrase in his native tongue, and Andrew translated for him. "Women go a bit crazy before starting their courses. It's best to indulge them and not question it."

The entire tent went crazy, laughing and hollering almost as hard as the girl had been. Though she was not laughing anymore, and she was not amused. Her laughter died as quickly as it started—jarringly abrupt.

"I'm right here, you know!" She turned to the Frenchman. "Dis-moi, monsieur," the girl turned to him with a sarcastic and slightly intimidating curl of her lips. "Comment avez-vous appris tant de choses sur les femmes?"

The Frenchman swallowed thickly, and from behind him, Andrew translated his words to the small group. "She's asking how he got so damn smart."

"Ma femme."

"Ah! Idiote moi. Mais bien sûr. Ta femme doit être folle si elle tá épousé. Rien à voir avec se scours. Accune femme saine désprit ne portrait passer plus d'une journee avec toi sans avoir besoin d'être admis dans en établissement mental par la suite."

"She says, don't blame that time of the month, or your poor wife, when it's you're the reason she's like that." He guffawed out loud, drawing the girl's attention, before continuing. "Anyone would go crazy after spending more than a minute with you. Jesus Christ! Man, oh, man!"

The girl went warm all over. That was precisely why she tended to keep quiet. Her temper would rise if she did not keep her emotions in check. She had only ever lost it with Bucky before, never in front of a crowd. "Excuse me, gentlemen," she mustered what remaining dignity she had left, "but it's time for me to rest. I will see you all in the morning, bright and early. Good night."

Amidst all the hysterical laughing and the rampant rambling, the girl had forgotten Bucky's promise. He yanked her down before she could leave. He had indulged her long enough.

"I'm not letting you kill yourself—don't," he started, when he noticed her lips curl, "start laughing again. It was traumatizing enough the first time."

What he meant: "Please don't laugh again, because if you do, I wouldn't want you to stop. Ever." Except he did not know he felt such a thing. So, he annoyed her instead, undermining his affection for her.

The girl huffed loudly, voicing her frustration. The rest of the men settled inside the tent, pressed against each other for heat, hoping for at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. "I'm not cold anymore. I told you before."

"You're the worst liar I have ever met. Seriously! Worse than Steve." That was true. Steve was a horrible liar. "I can see you shivering. Hell! I can hear you!"

Bucky decided to give her a choice. A poor one, yes, but a choice, nonetheless. "Where do you wanna sleep? In between Fournier and Ward or next to Eaton?" He leaned in close, putting a hand next to his mouth as if indulging her with a secret. "I gotta warn you, though. He snores like a pig."

The girl simmered. She did not want to spend the night in the middle of men, and Bucky knew that. He was intimately aware of her reservation toward the opposite sex."Over here is fine." She was referring to the front of the tent where she was already seated.

"Perfect! This way, I'll be able to keep an eye on you."

"Excuse me?"

"You did choose the coldest spot, but I won't complain. Promise." He shrugged out of his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"—as long as you wear this."

By now, it was a sort of ritual for Bucky to demand something of the girl and for her to deny him. No matter how helpful or minuscule the command, she could hardly help it anymore, even though it always ended with her compliance—sometimes forced.

"No, thank you." She was nothing if not stubborn.

Bucky scoffed. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her down until she was in his lap. The girl stifled her scream and gasped instead.

The rest of the men were almost all asleep, exhausted from the long day. So was the girl, though she would not admit it. She was tired and cold—more than usual—and scared; of what was to come and of what was currently taking place. Her ancient promise of staying away from James Buchanan Barnes was becoming harder to uphold.

Bucky knew this—not of her promise, of course, but of her crumbling resolve—So he pushed. He flustered and confused her. "Only because it's amusing," he told himself—her reaction to his teasing. "Only because it's amusing,"

"You should stick with red. Purple is not a good colour on you, and that's what you'll become if you don't listen to me." He placed his jacket over her shoulders, and she was instantly warmed.

"What about you?" Her voice was meek and hesitant, words honeyed in their delivery. "Will you not get cold?" But he only smirked and raised his brows in answer. "Oh. Right." She had forgotten his natural affinity for all things warm, so unlike her own, for all things cold.

"I've got both you and Eaton keeping me warm. I wouldn't worry about it." Bucky smirked when the girl said nothing and only blinked in surprise.

She lowered herself, letting her head touch the soft ground. Tarps had been placed neatly all over, offering protection from the snow surrounding them. She turned away from Bucky, putting a foot of space between him and herself, holding her breath when she felt him lie next to her. However, the second she relaxed, his arm wrapped around her midsection and pulled her flush against his front, not an inch separating them.

"Bucky!" she warned in a hushed whisper, struggling against his hold. "This is inappropriate!"

"No!" he huffed in her ear, hot breath warming her neck. "This is survival!" She continued her futile attempts, trying harder to elude his grasp. "Besides, I gave you my only jacket, and I need to—Damn it, woman! Stop moving," he groaned in her ear.

"Why?" she asked, squirming harder.

"Because—Damn it!" he groaned again. "Just stop, will ya?" A deep breath. "Please."

The girl went still. Bucky Barnes never said please, never begged. She had not thought it possible. So, to hear him beg her... she decided she could never let Bucky Barnes use that word ever again. It was dangerous when uttered by his lips. An irresistible, compelling word that she could never deny, gladly giving in to any request.

"Please."

"Sorry," she muttered quietly, quickly settling down, unsure if he was listening. He was. "I'm sorry."

The girl let the tiredness of the day wash over her. She let Bucky's arms hold her, keep her safe and warm, and protect her. Her eyes closed, and she entered the state before sleep where the body was still aware and preparing for rest.

"You drive me crazy," Bucky's whispered in her ear, so quiet she convinced herself she imagined it.

"You drive me crazy too," was her last thought before she let deep slumber overtake her. Except the girl knew Bucky did not mean it with the same intention as hers. "So crazy."

At a steep decline, her foot swept away from under her on an icy patch of grass. From behind her, Bucky dropped his copy of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," extending his arm to grab her. He was not fast enough, and she fell on her back, sliding down until she hit a mountain of fresh snow.

"Jesus Christ, Darling!" Bucky reached under her arms to haul her up as if she weighed nothing. "You gotta watch where you're stepping."

"It's too dark," she sputtered, wiping snow off her face. "I couldn't see anything." From the east, the full moon was their only source of light, doing a poor job of illuminating the path through the dense forest around them.

"Fucking hell," Bucky swore, appraising the girl from head to toe. "You're soaked."

"I'm fine," she rasped, already beginning to shiver as the cold permeated her layers to settle in her skin. "I can keep going."

"Like hell you can," Bucky muttered, looking ahead to see everyone else's progress.

"There's no need to swear," the girl grumbled, pulling her hat farther down.

Bucky raised a brow at that. "At least the cold didn't get to your head."

She rolled her eyes, turning to leave, but Bucky grabbed her before she could take a single step, hauling her up in his arms. She shrieked, wrapping her hands around his neck for stability. "What are you doing?"

"You're going to trip again," he said by way of explanation. "It's just a little bit further. Then we'll set up camp."

Bucky ignored the girl's protests, quickly catching up with the rest of the battalion. They walked another mile in about half an hour, and Bucky ignored all of the girl's grumbling, only acknowledging her once they reached a small clearing and began setting up camp.

"Shut up," he grumbled, to which he received a smack on the back of his head.

"You shut up."

He lowered the girl next to the small smokeless fire Simon Ward lit, draping his jacket over her, "Dry up as much as you can. I'll be back."

Scooting closer to the small blaze, the girl pulled Bucky's jacket tighter around her shoulders, studying the flame with intensity as she recalled waking up the past few days.

The girl had gone to sleep slightly rigid and stiff, unused to resting next to another body, but she woke up in a tangle of limbs. Bucky's hands in her hair, her face tucked in the crook of his neck. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had turned over and gravitated closer to the heat his body was radiating. It was the best sleep either of them had ever had. Neither was willing to acknowledge it.

The night after was a repeat of the night before. Bucky threatened alcohol down the girl's throat, and she responded with a litany of insults which he laughed away. They wrestled while everyone watched—Bucky won, and the girl awoke the next day surrounded by a familiar warmth and a musky scent one could only describe as Bucky Barnes.

A week later, the moon was low in the sky, marking the beginning of winter. Neither the girl nor Bucky brought up their temporary sleeping arrangements, choosing to ignore the feelings festering inside them. The girl felt her resolve slowly crumbling. What was that promise she made to herself regarding Bucky Barnes? She couldn't quite recall.

The girl busied herself with unpleasant memories of his. She remembered when she first moved into the apartment across from Bucky. She was carrying a box full of books up the fifth floor of a six-story building. She had to take a break every few minutes to rest her arms, or they would've fallen off. Just outside her door, she collided with a brick wall. Her books went flying—so did she—and Bucky Barnes ran past her without so much as an "excuse me," muttering profanity under his breath. From then on, she started hating him.

That's how she met Steve. The slender young man popped a blonde head out of his friend's door and asked if he could help. She said, "no thanks," but he didn't listen, insisting on bringing the rest of her things up. That night, over a cup of hot tea, she learned about James Buchanan Barnes and his skirt-chasing tendencies. She began to hate him a bit more.

She recalled all his jabs of how she dressed, the way she looked, mocking her insecurities by sarcastically complimenting her. The ruined date with that doctor—never mind the potential criminal record. His threat to drown her.

He broke her friend's heart, told her he would call the next day and didn't. She was married now with a baby on the way, but it was the principle of the thing that irked her.

One by one, all of Bucky's wrongdoings came to the forefront of the girl's mind. When he argued with her, undermined her, and treated her like porcelain. When he called her "doll," "darling," and "sweetheart."

She hated that most of all.

Still, she could not ignore the tiny flutter in her heart whenever she thought of the blue-eyed sergeant. Despite all the bad, she now only remembered his warm smile and comforting embrace.

The girl brought her hand dangerously close to the fire, letting the flame irritate her skin before pulling away. She still felt cold.

Bucky returned a few moments later, rubbing his bare hands together in front of his face. "You tired?"

The girl ignored his question, asking one of her own. "Where are your gloves?"

Bucky's frosty breath momentarily covered his face. "Bradshaw lost his."

"Jeremy?"

Bucky nodded with a smile, unsurprised the girl knew most of the soldiers' names. "Wait, what are you doing?"

She fished her gloves from her coat, thrusting them toward him. "They're dry now. Here, take them."

"Don't be stupid," Bucky scoffed, "you'll get cold." Still, she persevered, leaving her hand dangling. "I'm not taking your gloves," Bucky said with finality.

"Alright," she nodded, dropping her hand and taking off his jacket instead.

Bucky seized her by the shoulders, stopping her and giving her a little shake. "What the fucking hell, woman! Keep your jacket on. It's freezing."

"Don't swear. It's yours, not mine. Take it." She tried prying his fingers off, but he wouldn't budge. "The gloves or the jacket, Bucky. Your choice."

"So goddamn stubborn. Every day you find something new to argue with me about, don't you?"

"Pick one," she warned, "or I'm giving both to Jeremy."

With a mumbled curse, Bucky snatched the gloves from her lap, putting them on like a petulant child.

"And say thank you," she snapped, slightly perturbed he hadn't taken back his jacket.

Bucky squinted his eyes, dropping down next to her. "You're acting like a real brat today."

"You're acting like a caveman! Now leave me alone so I can sleep in peace." She had turned away from Bucky, but when he offered no reply, she swallowed uneasily and looked back. His eyes glinted with mischief, hinting at his next step. "Bucky, no!"

She tried to stop him but was no match for his strength. Her world spun, and she found herself on his shoulder once again. Thankfully she stayed quiet this time, not bringing any extra attention toward them.

"I'll show you caveman." Bucky plopped her down in one of the smaller tents with space just enough for two, closing the flap behind him.

She steamed in forced fury, trying to take comfort in the fact that, pretty soon, she wouldn't have to put up with the infuriating soldier at all. She failed.

After a moment, when Bucky still hadn't moved from his hunched-over position at the front of the tent, the girl snapped at him. "What are you waiting for, Bucky? Come to bed!"

They both paused, processing the girl's words. "Come to bed." It was the first time she willingly called for him. She looked down, embarrassment creeping up her neck, unable to see the smile on Bucky's face.

Carefully, Bucky settled in behind her, embracing her with both arms, fitting her against him. When she began to squirm, he only had to issue a single warning before she relaxed. He sighed gratefully, not wanting a repeat of the past week where she slept oblivious while he tried to tamp down his arousal.

"This is nice," Bucky thought the girl muttered, though he couldn't be sure because she was already asleep.

"Yeah, this is really nice," Bucky whispered against her temple as blissful sleep overtook him.

From a distance, the Italian alps were quite breathtaking. She imagined a cabin in the forest, high on the Dolomite mountains; this would be her view. Maybe she would move here one day—once the war was over—and ask Steve to join her. Steve didn't have anyone stopping him from leaving other than Bucky. Maybe Bucky could join too? She shook that thought away.

The Dolomites were far behind them now, and as they passed town after town, destroyed and abandoned, an unsettling feeling grew vigorous in her gut. They were close to the Austrian border, hugging the small villages and settlements as they got closer to their destination: Azzano.

They made camp as the sun set, supplying the perfect backdrop to a most tiresome journey. The girl slung her pack to the ground and stretched her muscles while waiting for Bucky to finish ordering the men around.

He offered her water when he finished, which she took gratefully. "Lieutenant General Allan Montgomery should be here within the week. We'll travel the rest of the way to Azzano together." Then Bucky's eyes downturned. "We're only a few miles away from the front line. Do you remember your training?" he asked, looking for hesitation.

Of course, by training, he was referring to the hour-long lesson she was given on battlefield defence, not that any of it stuck. She tried schooling her features, failing miserably. "Yes, I do." Her voice was strong and confident, though she felt anything but. "If we spot the enemy, I'm supposed to set up a station at a safe spot and wait for the injured there. They will be sent back if they are fit to fight. If not..." she trailed off, unable to stomach the fact. "But I won't let that happen," she promised.

Bucky looked at her pityingly, as if he knew something she did not. "Let's hope so. The rest of the 107th should be here in a couple of days with General McGinnis. They were right behind us, so—"

Bucky paused, looking behind the girl at the soldiers setting up camp, before shaking his head and continuing. "Are you tired? The sun's beginning to set."

The girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shook her head.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, immediately picking up on the girl's discomfort.

"Bucky..." she began hesitantly. "How long will you make me sleep with you?"

Bucky frowned. "Do you feel uncomfortable? I know I came across as an asshole, but I didn't want you to freeze to death. Sorry, we can stop."

Unable to respond immediately, the girl looked at him with barely concealed bewilderment. Apologizing; is another thing Bucky Barnes did not do. "No, I don't want to stop. It's just..." she trailed off, looking for the right word. "inappropriate, especially with the General joining us soon."

"No, it's not," he said matter of factly. "We're friends."

"Friends don't sleep together," the girl responded, unsure of what she wanted to hear him say.

Bucky waited until she looked him in the eyes. "We're the exception. Hey, they've got bigger matters to worry about than us sharing body heat. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Well, good."

An awkward silence fell between the pair, and the girl cleared her throat before the feeling could consume her. "The men look ready to fight," she observed, watching her surroundings.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, uh... I mentioned we're near the front lines, right? So we need to set up a perimeter and plan the best line of attack. Make sure we have a solid line of defence in case something happens. Hey, don't worry. We've got this." Bucky gave her shoulder a tiny shove.

"Oh," she huffed, "I am not worried."

"Yeah?" a smile lit his eyes. "Your face is telling me a different story."

She pursed her lips in frustration. "I'm not worried about you, Bucky," she snapped, "I'm worried about Steve. He needs his friend to come back home—in one piece—and now, I know you normally have no regard for your safety, but you have to be careful if you don't want to leave our friend alone in Brooklyn."

Bucky saw red. He pulled at his hair in frustration. It was unbelievable how quickly she was able to rile him up. "Are you kidding me? I'm the one with no regard for safety? In the time I've known you, you've almost died over five times. You can't even cross the street without putting yourself in danger! Hell! I'm still confused about how they let you in this damn war in the first place." He rushed his words, voicing his anger and annoyance. He only registered the last part of the girl's sentence when he took a deep breath.

"Why would Steve be all alone in Brooklyn?" he asked in a more even tone. "You're going to be there, and a few months later, I'll join... he won't be alone. Why would you say that?"

He froze at the look on her face. Guilt—In her eyes, in the way she held herself, oozing from her pores. Bucky could smell it. Bucky could even taste it. "What did you do?"

"I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you both sooner, but I only just decided and—"

"What. Did. You. Do?" Bucky grit out.

The girl took a deep breath. "I'm leaving. Moving to Canada. I already asked for a transfer—"

"Canada? Fucking Canada?"

"—Don't swear, please," she pleaded.

"This is some sick joke, right? Tell me you're joking." Bucky grabbed her forearms, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bucky, but I already applied for the transfer. I'm supposed to be moved to a different regiment when we get back to base."

There were many things the girl expected Bucky to say. She expected him to be happy that he was finally rid of her. Relieved she would be gone. She did not expect him to be hurt.

"Were you ever gonna say goodbye?"

"Bucky, I—"

"To Steve, to me. Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn't asked?"

No, she would not have. "Please, Bucky," she pleaded. "I don't want to leave you angry. For the sake of our past, let it go. We won't see each other again for a long time. Not until the war is over."

Bucky scoffed. "Phillips would never let that happen; he wouldn't let you leave. You're his favourite nurse."

She furrowed her brows in response. "I'm not Colonel Phillips' favourite nurse. He has no favourites."

"You're everyone's favourite nurse," he replied as if stating a fact.

"Liar!" she wanted to scream at him. She knew she was not his favourite.

"Not yours," she whispered, staring at him for a moment. "Lila Bellamy told me about the date you took her on. She said you turned a war zone into the most romantic place she'd ever seen. You brought her flowers, danced with her, and kissed her on the cheek once the night was over." She felt wetness gathering in her eyes. "You were the perfect gentleman."

When the first tear dropped, she didn't bother wiping it away. "When you return to base camp, please give Lila my regard. She was quite worried for me. Will you let her know I'm safe? She would be glad to hear from you, and I won't get to talk to her before I leave."

Bucky's grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully, making her flinch. Through the hurt coursing in her body, she managed a feeble smile. "Try not to break her heart? You two look good together."

"No!" Bucky had had enough; he could hold his words in no longer. "There's nothing between Lila and me."

The girl shook her head. "You don't have to lie."

"Stop it!" Bucky exploded, shaking her. "Stop pushing me away. I don't want Lila; I never wanted her. I've only ever wanted you!"

"Bucky," the girl gasped.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave me, doll," he started, and there was that word she hated. "I'll take you over my shoulder if I have to, but you're not going to fucking Canada; because I love—"

Bucky never got to finish his sentence, never got to tell the girl how he felt because one of his worst nightmares was suddenly realized.

A bullet whizzed past them both—so close that the girl could smell the gunpowder in the wind, could feel its displacement through air against her cheek before it found a home in the soldier behind her. She screamed as she fell, Bucky's heavy weight shielding her body, keeping her down. Her world turned upside down, and she found herself on the cold ground with Bucky's grip on her arms tightened painfully.

To her right, the unfortunate soldier lay dead, with an 8-millimeter-sized hole in his head oozing a steady stream of thick blood. A wound meant for her.

The girl touched a hand to her cheek, which had suddenly warmed. It came back painted as red as the poppy fields back in Provence, France.

She began to tremble as shock overtook her.

Bucky swore under his breath, eyes wide as he took in their surroundings. Beneath him, the girl's eyes darkened in fear. She smeared the splatter of blood on her cheeks and stared at her fingers in horror.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." She kept muttering under her breath, eyes wide and lips quivering. "N-No. No. No. No."

All around Bucky, the soldiers ran, grabbing artillery and readying defences. "What the hell happened!?" he screamed. "We had a perimeter set up!" Underneath him, she shivered—out of shock or fear, he determined, rather than the cold.

"Those Nazi bastards were waiting to ambush us!" a voice shouted from amidst the chaos. "They knew we were coming!"

Another bullet whizzed past Bucky's head, embedding itself in the ground next to the girl's head. He jerked her away and swore. "Fuck!" She still trembled under him, muttering nonsense. He took her face in his hands, urging her to look at him. " Hey, darlin'? Doll, look at me."

Her eyes were glued to her shaky hands. "Oh God, no. No, I can't. I can't. I can't."

For a few seconds, Bucky froze above her—a few seconds too many—before his training kicked in. He needed to get her out of there. Bucky yanked her hands to the side and held her face in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at him.

"We're in a war zone right now." He said her name with fierce assurance. "The enemy isn't going to stop until we're all dead. I need you to remember the promise you made me this morning. You promised you wouldn't let anyone die—Hey!"

The girl tried peeking at the dead soldier beside her, but Bucky blocked her view.

"Don't look at him. Why are you looking at him? Look at me," he said. The girl whimpered, her eyes misting. "Look at me. That's not your fault."

She shook her head.

"—Hey! It's not. Those German bastards killed him, not you."

"That bullet was meant for me," she sobbed between breaths, "it should have hit me." The desperation in her voice cut him like a knife. He felt her fear as if it were his own.

"Don't you dare! Don't you fucking dare!" Under normal circumstances, Bucky would be concerned at the girl's lack of reaction to his cursing, but he had already spent too much time coddling her, and the men needed him. "I'm gonna go and avenge that soldier's death, darlin'," Buck shouted over the sound of battle. "I'm going to burn those Germans to the ground. I'm going to do my job, and you have to do yours."

She looked at him then, and Bucky exhaled gratefully at the clarity he saw in her eyes, hidden behind adrenaline and fear. She gave him a little nod and stifled her sobs. "I feel a little sick."

"Me too," said Bucky, hauling them both to their feet.

The second they were upright, Bucky yanked her behind a tree for cover against the onslaught of bullets raining down on them. "You have to run." He grabbed his rifle from behind his back and checked the ammunition.

"Bucky—"

"When I tell you to, I want you to run toward those trees over there," he pointed to a slight decline, where the trees were thicker and provided more cover, "and I want you to keep on running."

"Wait! No!"

"No matter what happens!" He would not look her in the eyes—Could not look her in the eyes. "You run until you reach the last marker—" Bucky took off his helmet and placed it on the girl's head, fastening it over her hat. "—about a mile and a half out—"

"Bucky, listen to me!"

But he would not listen to her. The girl kept calling him, but he ignored her. He knew his eyes would betray his fear if he did. And he knew that the terrified look that had most likely taken up residence on her face, would force him to lose the last of his sanity and carry her back to base. This war zone was the last place he wanted her.

"You stay there until someone comes for you, and you don't—"

"James!"

And there it was, that damned name. So absolutely dangerous when uttered by her lips. Time slowed for both of them as if the war had pressed pause. Sound faded, colours brightened, and for a few minuscule seconds Bucky and her existed in their own little world, where the blood on her hands was paint, and the look in his eyes was love and not fear.

Bucky looked down, expecting to see the girl hysterical and weeping. Instead, he saw something completely different. Her eyes were clear, the most they had been in weeks, terribly similar to the look she would get in camp when the life of a soldier was in her hands.

And when she spoke, there was determination in her voice. A promise. "You better come back in one piece for Steve." And he knew she meant, "be careful."

He blinked at her, once, then twice, ensuring there were no other hidden messages behind her words. "You better run fast." And she knew he meant, "I will."

The world around them came back into focus, and with a final tightening of her helmet, Bucky pushed her away, sending her running toward safety.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? She couldn't be sure. Her boot-clad feet were numb from being buried in the snow, and her back was sore from chafing against the rough bark of a pine tree.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? The sun had long since disappeared under the horizon. In its stead was the moon, still as big and beautiful as the night before. Was it privy to all the horrors the girl wasn't? Did it frown over the violence and brutality it witnessed, or did the inhumanity of the act make it shine brighter?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

How much time had passed? Above her, a bird chirped loudly, disturbed by the gunfire that seemed to grow closer as the moon rose higher in the sky. An hour? Two? It certainly felt like more.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, patting her chest as a means to settle it. "It's okay," she whispered, afraid to voice her thoughts any louder. "It's okay."

She twisted her body around the thick trunk, peeking at the darkness beyond her hiding spot. Another jarring explosion, fake sounding and unreal, before the world quieted. Eerily so.

The bird above her stopped its music. The leaves stopped their little dance. The girl twisted fully, staring intently at the spot she had come running from before finding a temporary home against her tree. All felt normal—well, as normal as could be.

What was it that prompted her forward and on her feet? Bucky's instructions rang clear in her head. "You stay there until someone comes for you." No one was there for her, yet her feet began to move of their own volition. Perhaps at the persuasion of a greater force. Fear; she could taste it on her tongue.

Fear that made her keep going despite the ache in her limbs. Fear that numbed her skin against the sharp tendrils of wind cutting her face. Fear of the quiet. Of being alone. Of being without him.

"Bucky," her whisper echoed against the draught. "James," her heart bled through the frozen ground.

The stench hit her first. Her nose picked up on what her eyes could not. Rotting flesh, putrid and burnt. Sweat and vomit mixed in with the minerally dirt. Her tongue flared up next as copper permeated the rest of her senses, overwhelmingly strong. And the fear; she caught herself against a tree as it engulfed her, making her lose the contents of her stomach.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The girl was at the edge of the clearing, with the gruesome scene of battle right in front of her. Her eyes moved fleetingly across everything, afraid of what she might find. What was once the site of a lively campsite was now demolished in a mess of guts and spoils.

The earth had turned over to create trenches and hiding spots. Dead bodies and dismembered limbs were scattered across the ground, decorating it with a gruesome excuse for peace.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The calm before the storm.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She spotted movement from the corner of her eye, followed by a low groan of pain.

James. Her heart lurched.

A head of blonde curls bobbed from behind a mountain of dirt. The girl reached behind her for her pack, realizing it lay abandoned on the battlefield. She spotted it twenty-something meters away to her right.

Her eyes squeezed shut. The girl wasn't sure if it was safe to venture out, but it was so quiet, and still, she reasoned the worst of it had passed. She made up her mind; first, the pack, then the wounded soldier.

With her arms pumping rhythmically, she ran. Five, ten, fifteen meters out. The girl skid to a stop, bending to grab the pack. Instead, cold metal kissed her temple, and she stopped breathing.

Her terror-stricken eyes met dilated blue ones. Her pack perched on the edge of what resembled a small trench, hidden from the rest of the clearing. Several soldiers sat hunched over, brandishing various weapons. Bucky Barnes lowered his rifle as gut-wrenching fear overtook his face. He shook his head vigorously, reaching up to grab her, but she stumbled back on her arms, clutching the pack to her chest.

The girl swallowed the sob threatening to spill over. Bucky was alive and safe, though a bit roughed up. She looked to her left at the blonde soldier immobilized by his injury, and Bucky followed her gaze. She noticed the moment it clicked for him, and she made her decision on the spot. She only hoped her eyes accurately portrayed her feelings.

Bucky's mouth opened in a silent scream of her name, and he leapt from his spot, tossing his weapon to the side. Andrew Eaton grabbed Bucky by the shoulders and yanked him back to safety. The girl took that opportunity to scramble to her feet. Behind her, Bucky's muffled shout echoed in her ears.

"He's okay," she reassured herself. "Bucky's okay."

The wounded soldier was lying on his front, eyes closed and motionless. She fell to her knees, placing two fingers against his windpipe. There, faint and irregular, an indistinct pulse was striving to intensify.

The soldier was alive. Good, she thought, I can work with that. His dog tags peeked from under his coat: Matthew Miles Davidson. Frantic hands ran over his body, feeling for a wound. Her hand came away wet, and she discovered his pants soaked with blood. Bracing herself on her knees, the girl rolled Matthew over with a groan.

"Sorry," she whispered when he moaned in anguish. "I'm sorry." Producing a pocket knife, she cut the fabric away from his right thigh, displaying his injury. Puckered skin oozed a steady flow of red, painting her hands. She laced her fingers together and pressed against the opening, using her entire weight to stop the blood.

The girl's thoughts were in overdrive, swiftly taking in and storing information. No exit wound, meaning the bullet was still inside. Matthew was faintly moving, his chest rising and falling with every breath. The girl decided she would remove the bullet, bandaging the wound before dragging him past the trees for cover.

However, over the adrenaline rushing through her ears, she did not realize another fight had broken out. Someone shouted from a distance, and the girl pulled away, unbuckling Matthew's belt and folding it in half. She needed to clean his wound, and since the morphine was in a different pack, with the rest of the medicine, Matthew was going to feel everything.

He was slightly more lucid now, staring at her, so she grabbed his face and urged him to listen. "Bite down on this, Matthew." And he obediently followed her direction.

"Good, you're doing very good." She ran a hand over his hair, cooing with a sad smile. "Don't make any noise, okay?"

The girl retrieved a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a large roll of bandages. She had tweezers in her pack for removing the shell, needle and thread for the other gashes. Those she kept in the kit and moved out of the way. Uncapping the rubbing alcohol, she liberally poured some over her hands to sanitize them before positioning the bottle over the laceration.

"This is going to hurt," she warned Matthew before tipping the bottle over.

The second the ethanol breached his wound, Matthew let out an ear-splitting scream, despite the sound being muffled by his belt. He writhed on the ground, body spasming in pain.

His groans of agony cloaked the racket of the fight around her, making it so she couldn't hear the tank powering up.

"You're okay, Matthew!" she cried.

From her right, someone screamed, and a solid form collided with her, tackling her to the ground. The night sky turned a light blue, flashing white for a brief moment, and the girl raised her head. In her spot, where she sat just a second ago, tending to Matthew's wounds, was air. No supplies, no pack, and no Matthew. The only evidence that something, or someone, had been there was the roll of bandages in her hand and the blackened earth outlining the shape of a body.

Looking to her saviour, she didn't know if she should be grateful or ungrateful that her life was spared.

"You're okay!" Bucky cried, roaming his hands over her body, feeling if she was alive and well. "Fuck! I told you to fucking stay there!" He craned his neck to witness his men steadily losing ground, unmatched by the enemy and their technology.

When Bucky turned toward the girl, the fear in his eyes left her paralyzed. Panic-stricken hands ripped at her clothes, and at first, she was too shocked to react, but as the feeling returned to her limbs, she protested against him.

Bucky smeared a handful of dirt over her face, covering her eyes and lips. She clawed at his chest, trying to stop him, but he forced her back. They were still on the ground, him on top of her, leaving her immobilized.

Then he grabbed the bandages and lifted her undershirt to wrap her chest. "Stop," she whimpered. "Bucky, stop."

He didn't listen.

"James," she pleaded.

And there was that damned name again. Bucky stopped, looking into her eyes to see his terrified form reflected back. "We're losing," he rasped.

No further explanation was needed when Bucky looked at her like that. The girl heard all he wanted to say, saw all he wanted to do, and felt all he begged to show. She relaxed her body, giving him all her trust, and let him do what he did best.

That night the moon witnessed the girl surrendering to Bucky Barnes. That night, he saved her.

The air reeked of secretion. The girl didn't know why she found that detail so surprising. What else was a prison supposed to smell like if not human feces, fear and hopelessness?

She didn't remember the ride over. Shortly after surrendering, they were herded, like cattle, into armoured trucks. Masked men pulled her away from Bucky and tied her hands behind her back, shoving her into a separate truck.

The drive wasn't long, and in a few hours, they were stopping. When a guard pushed her and nine others into a dark cell, she fell to her knees and cried. Fortunately, Andrew Eaton was in the same cell as her, and he pulled the girl to him, muffling her sobs against his chest. Her high-pitched wailing was sure to catch someone's attention.

War was not kind to men, even less to young women. If they caught her, what would they do? She remembered the fear in Bucky's eyes as he frantically concealed the weight of her breasts, flattening them to resemble a man's. She decided she didn't want to find out.

The girl fell asleep in Andrew's arms wishing she was in Bucky's embrace instead. But Andrew was cold, and no matter how hard she tried, her imagination could not do Bucky justice.

In the morning, guards came for them. A burly-looking German soldier explained to her group in broken English that they were going to be put to work. Weapons manufacturing. "How does it feel?" he asked, "that we'll be killing your brothers with the weapons you make for us." They laughed amongst themselves, then pointed their guns at her and the prisoners, putting them to work.

Nights passed miserably. Andrew assured the girl Bucky was somewhere in the facility, in one of the cells scattered across the vast space, though that did little to calm her. She cried herself to sleep, body aching from the laborious work forced upon them.

By morning, the news spread. Men were being taken away.

A foul-faced officer was picking soldiers at random, plucking them away. "Hitler's right-hand man," someone sneered. "The devil incarnate," another cowered.

Andrew kept the girl tucked away against him, shielding her from wandering eyes. The dirt on her face had washed away, her hair loosened from her braid, bindings slack. She finally looked like a woman.

She saw the proof of it etched on Andrew's face when the guards came near. It was yet another night, and she was resting her head against the thick bars of the metal prison when she heard them. Andrew tried to hide her, but space was limited, and the devil's keen eye landed on her before she could move.

"What have we here?" A man with a drooping face and quizzical brow bent down to look at the girl. He grabbed her jaw in a rough grip through the bars when she attempted to crawl away. "Ah!" he exclaimed fervently, digging his nails into her skin until she whimpered. "A girl?"

His free hand went to her neck, dropping lower and lower until she protested, pushing him away. "No!"

The man raised a brow. "How did you manage to slip through, Mäuschen?" He gestured to the guards behind him, who marched forward to open the bars. "Let's find out, shall we?"

"Don't touch her, bastards!" Andrew shouted, pulling her back.

The girl wanted to stop him, but she became paralyzed with fear. The men had guns and long sticks—Andrew had nothing but his wits about him and a pair of worn fists.

The next few events happened in quick succession. A muscle in the devil's face twitched, his smile momentarily dropping, which he swiftly schooled. "Das Mäuschen has a protector? What a waste." He shrugged carelessly. "No matter. Always more where he came from."

A bang resounded, and Andrew fell backwards, eyes wide and unmoving. Someone screamed, loud and shrill. It wasn't until a guard whisked the girl away that she realized it was her screaming.

The prisoners shouted in protest as she passed by them. From amongst the hoard of fury, a pair of blue eyes met hers, two hands grasped cool metal, and two lips parted to call out her name. The girl craned her neck to look, but heavyset doors closed behind her before the voice could reach her ears.

She closed her eyes to block out her surroundings, and when she finally reopened them, it was the next day.

His name was Arnim Zola—Dr. Arnim Zola—and he was a scientist working for HYDRA. That's where they were held captive, the Doctor divulged, at one of the many facilities HYDRA owned across the continent.

The Doctor passionately described the importance of the work done at HYDRA while the girl was bound to an exam table. "How lucky that you will not only be alive to see HYDRA shine, but you will also take part in it." He checked the girl's pulse, jotting something down on a clipboard. "We lost many of the men. They all fight the effects. It will be interesting to see how a woman fares, don't you think?"

She was too tired to struggle, and when the Doctor injected a burning liquid in her veins, she found she was too tired to scream.

The world turned black.

When she came to, however long later, Dr. Zola was hunched over his desk, shuffling through papers while muttering under his breath. "How is this possible? I gave her a larger dose."

The burning had turned to ice in her veins, and she shook violently against her restraints as she shivered. "Please..."

"I don't understand. Are you sweating it off?" Then he hummed. "I will need more tests." And her world turned black once again.

How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? Months? The girl could not be sure of anything other than that the cold in her veins had found a home in her heart.

"Immune," she heard the Doctor repeat. "Nothing is working."

She was counting the marks on the wall of the tiny room she was locked in when Dr. Zola approached her one day. "Herr Schmidt wants me to dispose of you," he told her. "But I think you can serve us yet."

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, trying to ignore him.

"That prisoner. What was his name? The one who died protecting you?"

Andrew. The girl opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Zola with distrust.

"He made me wonder if the others would do the same."

"They won't," she told him, trying to hide her desperation. "I'm only a nurse."

Dr. Zola snickered mischievously, slowly backing out of the small room. "We will see about that."

That night they brought the first prisoner. Someone she did not recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

He spat on Arnim Zola's face. "Go to hell, you son of a bitch!"

The Doctor wiped away the drool with a wry smile, gesturing to the soldiers holding the girl still. "No!" she managed to shout before they plunged her face into a bucket of ice water.

She held her breath at first, hoping to bide some time before they pulled her out, but as her heart raced and the grip on her arms tightened, she couldn't help it any longer. She began to thrash, shaking and sputtering as the water invaded her lungs.

After what felt like an eternity, she tasted fresh air, heaping lungfuls to ease the burn in her throat.

The prisoner thrashed against his restraints, screaming profanities into the air as Dr. Zola injected him with a blue substance.

"Stop resisting!" the Doctor demanded. "You'll ruin the transformation!" He turned toward the girl. "Do you want her to die?" he asked the prisoner. "They'll kill her."

The prisoner screamed louder.

"Again!" Dr. Zola ordered.

The girl managed to take a deep breath before they plunged her into the water again, not that it helped. The torture went on for the rest of the night. By the last hour, the prisoner had died, lying in a pool of vomit.

The next night they brought the second prisoner. Someone she did recognize. "Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

"Jeremy? No!" the girl began to cry. "No, not him!"

"Miss?" Jeremy looked at Dr. Zola with indignation. "Let her go."

"Do as I say," Zola repeated, "and I will."

"Go to hell."

And so it began.

Though, It did not last very long. When the girl screamed for the first time, Jeremy Bradshaw gave in. "I'll do it. I'll do anything. Just let the lady go."

Zola smiled victoriously. "Now, that wasn't so hard. Was it?"

A few hours later, Jeremey's heart gave out.

"He was weak," Zola proclaimed. "We need someone stronger."

The next night they brought the third prisoner. Someone she knew.

The girl had prepared herself this time. She wouldn't cry or scream out; she would fight! But none of it mattered when she saw the person standing before her.

War was not kind to men, and this one was proof of it. His hair was longer, touching the tips of his ears, and a light beard covered most of his face, making him almost unrecognizable. Almost. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same.

"James," she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, waiting for the moment he saw her.

"Do as I say, and the girl will remain unharmed."

Bucky screamed the moment he did, mouth open in rage. The girl wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Was she as haggard in appearance as him? She sure felt it.

Bucky threw the soldiers off him, shouting her name as he ran toward her. He came to a halt when someone put a gun to her head, and the soldiers took the opportunity to restrain him once again.

"Yes, you are strong, indeed. Now, will you do as I say?" Zola asked.

"Eat shit, cocksucker."

Bucky was being so strong. So could she.

When the soldiers grabbed the girl, she was ready. She kicked one of them between the legs, and when he loosened his hold, she bit the hand on her shoulder. She must have made it two steps before they restrained her again.

She heard the buzz before she could feel it, and an unbridled scream left her. Electricity travelled up her spine, burning a pathway through her nerves. Her muscles went lax, and she fell, convulsing on the cold floor.

"No," she whimpered as they administered another shock through a small black device. But they were unrelenting, kicking her half-conscious form while she was down.

Bucky roared in rage while they abused her, but he could do nothing but watch as they gave her another electric shock.

"I'll kill you sons of bitches! I'll fucking kill you!"

Zola injected Bucky with the blue liquid. "Relax your muscles! Let the transformation take over."

"Fuck. You!" Bucky seethed.

The girl crawled toward him from her position on the ground, dragging herself by her nails. The soldiers followed leisurely, laughing at her pathetic attempt. The next shock made her throw up. Bile and stomach acid; since she hadn't been able to keep anything else down.

"She'll die, Soldier," Zola warned Bucky. "There's only so much a person can take."

Bucky stopped thrashing, briefly looking at the girl before addressing the Doctor. "What will you do to her?" he asked, unconcerned for himself.

"Bucky, no."

"Will you hurt her?"

Zola smiled, knowing he had won. "As long as you do as I say, I promise she will remain unharmed."

The girl began to cry. "Don't give up, Bucky. I can take it."

"—No, she can't," Zola interrupted.

"James!"

Their eyes met, and the girl knew Bucky had made up his mind. "I'll do anything." He slumped against his restraints, giving over his control. Before the Soldiers dragged her away, Bucky mouthed three words that shattered her completely. "I love you."

The doors closed before she could mouth it back.

Bucky Barnes was in shock. He had to be. That was the only reason he was on his feet after a week of hell, feeling only slightly bruised and fatigued. Yes, it was the shock that kept him moving, and not whatever it was the Doctor injected in him.

"Did it hurt?" Bucky asked, only slightly stumbling.

"A little," replied Steve Rogers. The same Steve Rogers Bucky remembered being at least two heads shorter.

"Is this permanent?" Bucky took in the striped shield, the muscles hidden by leather.

"So far."

Bucky chuckled, pressing his chest to feel his heart beating wildly within.

"The exit's through here," Steve gestured.

Bucky pulled him back. "Wait. I have to find someone first."

"Who?"

Bucky stared at his friend for a moment, hesitating. Steve didn't know the girl was with him. She never told anyone where she was deployed. Bucky whispered her name before clearing his throat and saying it louder.

He saw the surprise on Steve's face slowly morph into determination. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's get her."

They found her quickly. She was in an unmarked room on the second floor, hiding underneath a small blanket. Steve stayed behind, and Bucky entered the dark space with careful steps.

He heard the girl whimper in protest and scurry closer to the wall. "Not again. Please!"

Bucky bent down, and what he saw made him pause. He almost didn't recognize the girl with her sunken face and pale skin. She had lost weight, and her clothes were hanging off of her, but her eyes were what broke him. Wide and distrustful. Lifeless.

Bucky wiped his tears away, determined to stay strong. "Come here. I've got you."

The girl crawled farther away as if trying to embed herself in the wall. Bucky grabbed her face with both hands. "Look at me. Hey! Look at me, doll. It's Bucky."

She finally met his eyes, and Bucky saw the moment she recognized him. "James?" she sobbed, clutching his shirt in a weak grip. "You're here!"

Bucky lifted the girl in his arms, keeping her close to his chest. The first thing he noticed was how cold she was; the second was that she weighed almost nothing. When Bucky stumbled out, unsteady on his feet, Steve grabbed her from him, exchanging the shield for her. "Reserve your energy. We've got a long way to go."

"Steven? Am I dreaming?"

Steve laughed sadly. "No."

"You're big now," she sighed. "What happened?"

Steve shrugged. "I joined the army."

"I always knew you would."

They all laughed, happy for a moment that they were reunited. But danger was near, Bucky could feel it, and his smile dropped. Around them, parts of the building exploded, making the ground shake.

"Quick! Through here!" Steve shouted, taking two steps at a time, and Bucky tried his best to keep up. They were so close. He could feel it.

"Captain America!" A voice shouted, stopping them. "How exciting!"

Steve lowered the girl to her feet, grabbing his shield from Bucky and taking a fighting stance.

When Bucky realized who the strange voice belonged to, he pulled the girl behind him, shielding her from view. It was him, the man who dragged her away all those days ago. Bucky couldn't tell then, but it was apparent now that he was a high-ranking officer. Perhaps the mastermind behind this whole operation. Zola stood next to him, cowering behind a large briefcase.

"I am a great fan of your films!" mocked Johann Schmidt. "So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive."

Steve and Schmidt were at arm's length, and the Captain did not hesitate to swing at Schmidt. The man stumbled back, clutching his face in surprise.

"You've got no idea," Steve huffed.

"Haven't I?" And Schmidt took a swing of his own, putting a fist-sized dent in Captain America's shield.

"Steve!" The girl screamed from behind Bucky.

The two began to fight, and Bucky had to keep her from running toward their friend. "He's got it," he told her; and he did.

Steve kicked Schmidt, sending him back a few feet, and Zola stepped forward. He pressed a button that collapsed the bridge Steve was on.

"No matter what lies Erskine told you," Schmidt exclaimed. "You see, I was his greatest success!" He peeled the skin off his face, revealing red flesh underneath.

"You don't have one of those, do you?" Bucky found himself asking, a bit dizzy from the incident. He held the girl tighter against him when she started shaking like a leaf.

Schmidt made a closing remark that went over Bucky's head, and he and Zola left. An explosion caused the trio to stumble, forcing Steve into action. "Come on, let's go. Up."

Bucky pulled the girl along, and they went up a floor, stopping in front of a metal beam.

"Let's go. One at a time," Steve urged, helping Bucky over the railing.

"What are you doing?" the girl shouted over the loud explosions.

"There's no other way!" Bucky told her. "Stay behind me."

Steve helped her over the railing next, and Bucky grabbed her.

"I can't!" she shook. "I'll fall."

Bucky pulled her close. "Don't look down. Why are you looking down? Look at me."

"No!"

"Yes! One step at a time, alright? Steve's right behind you." The beam quaked with every step, but Bucky did not slow down. He tossed the girl over the railing and leaped the rest of the way; right before the beam fell from underneath him.

Bucky's stomach dropped. There was no way for Steve to cross. "There's gotta be a rope or something!"

"Just go!" Steve cried. "Get out of here!"

"No! Not without you!"

Steve hesitated before backing up as far as he could and making a run for it. Bucky's stomach dropped, thinking Steve wouldn't make it, but then he emerged from the smoke and landed safely on his feet. The trio ran.

The half-moon was low in the sky when they made camp after two day's journey. It was late, and the prisoners were tired. Bucky made his rounds, checking the perimeter and the tents for anything suspicious.

The Battle of Azzanno was still fresh in his mind, and despite Steve's reassurances, Bucky could not let down his guard.

"How is she?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky didn't know the answer. "She won't talk to me," he said frustratedly. "She says she's fine, but I can see she isn't."

Steve sighed, having expected that answer. "And how are you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You both went through something traumatic." Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulder. "Talk it out, why don't you?" and left with a reassuring smile.

Bucky found the girl in one of the smaller tents, huddled in the corner for warmth.

"I was waiting for you," she admitted.

Bucky let a small smile grace his lips. They had come a long way. "Not too long, I hope."

"Very long," she rebutted. "I'm all cold."

Something in the girl's expression hinted at something deeper, something permanent. A rawness that she couldn't hide. It made Bucky's eyes burn. "Let me warm you up then." He fell to his knees and embraced her, holding her trembling body as tightly as he could.

The girl craned her neck and looked at Bucky with teary eyes. "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a second because he didn't know. Was he okay? He adjusted his hold until the girl was in his lap, snug against his front. "No, I'm not," he decided. "But as long as you're here, I will be."

Her hair was open, so Bucky put his forehead against the soft strands and closed his eyes. "Are you okay?"

The girl took a shuddering breath. "I—I was scared, and I—" She sobbed once, then twice. "No, I'm not okay!" And she began to weep. Agonizing sobs shook her entire body.

Bucky held on tight, whispering reassurances until, however long later, she eventually settled. "But I will be," she hiccuped.

The two sat silently for a while before she shifted to face him. Bucky wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and caressed her face. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in until their noses brushed.

Her eyes pierced his, conveying all she felt, and she softened in his arms. "James."

And there was that damned name again. Bucky pulled her toward him, closing the small distance between their lips.

Oh, she was soft, putty under his skilled mouth. He groaned, pressing closer until the only thing separating them were clothes. "Sweetheart." He tasted her lips with his tongue, asking for permission which she swiftly granted.

"James," she whimpered against him, clawing at his jacket for purchase. They kissed until she became breathless, reluctantly pulling away with a moan to fill her lungs.

Bucky felt his heart beating out of his chest. "I'm here," he vowed, "I'm right here. Never leaving you again."

Her pleasure-stricken face met his with an intensity that left him more breathless than her lips had. "James, I love you."

And Bucky knew in his soul that all would be well. He took her lips once again, sealing his promise with a kiss.

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cacoetheswriting · 1 year

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pearl: november & december 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.6k chapter summary: when life throws you an unexpected curveball, the person who's there for you the most is one you wish wasn't — so you get your wish, but only after completely altering your friendship.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angst, minor character death, loss of a parent, grief and grief management, emotional hurt / comfort, self-doubt / insecurities, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

pearl masterlist

December 1984

Winter was a lot harsher this year compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-November, it brought with it grey musky clouds, dark days and even darker nights, along with a snow storm worse than The Blizzard of 1888. It was the sort of cold that could freeze the blood of those who did not or could not take sufficient care to be warm.

The season was never your favourite. This year it was even more unbearable and it had nothing to do with the weather — which the news reported was only supposed to get worse.

Early November, while off living your best life at college, you got a call no kid ever wishes to receive.

Your dad had worked as a police officer ever since you were born. Even as a kid, you were smart enough to deduct his job was not of the safe variety. However, he’d reassure you endlessly that Hawkins, Indiana was by far the most boring town in this country and nothing bad would ever happen to him — that’s why you moved here in the first place.

Until it did.

Jim Hopper rang to break the news. You don’t remember exactly what he said, just that there was an incident at Hawkins Lab and unfortunately your dad didn’t make it.

“I am so sorry, kiddo.”

You were calm, collected. At least you pretended to be for the sake of your mom.

You packed a small bag, told your roommate you had a family emergency, and hopped in the car your dad let you keep when he dropped you off back in August. You drove all night in complete and utter silence. Every single part of your body felt numb and your mind was replaying every single conversation you held with the parent you just lost, yet you didn’t cry.

The tears hadn’t come until after the funeral ceremony.

You were washing up some of the dishes after the wake while your mom was being consoled by Karen Wheeler. Entirely too focused on the cool stream of water, you didn’t realise someone stood beside you until they spoke.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s offer broke you. Him being there broke you.

You immediately turned off the tap and wiped your wet hands against the silk material of your black dress before collapsing into his frame, no longer strong. The metalhead wrapped his arms around you instantly and the two of you were completely still as you sobbed into his shirt.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he muttered in a soothing tone, “Let it all out. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That day was the last time the two of you spoke.

For the remainder of the month, after you had gone back to school, you didn’t call him or send the letters you had been writing.

Ignoring him was one of the hardest things you had ever done 'cause not a day went by where you didn’t think about Eddie Munson and your last moment together, but the thought of losing him like you lost your dad was just too overbearing. You figured if you put some more distance between you two, should the worst happen, it wouldn’t be as painful.

The logic was flawed, you knew that. It was also perhaps the most selfish thing you had ever done since Eddie done nothing wrong.

One could argue however, you did all of this as a result of your grief. Consumed by all of these uncharted feelings around losing your dad and simply weren’t thinking clearly. There was just one problem. Eddie would never believe that. He knew you too well.

Which is why, your whole body was quivering with anticipation as you knocked on the trailer door.

You had prepared an apology speech, rehearsed it all night plus during your drive here. Although, now, as you stood waiting in the snow, you were second guessing everything.

“Forget it,” you mutter to yourself and are about to turn, walk away, when the door swings open.

Eddie gapes at you with his big brown eyes, surprise gracing his features. He sizes you up, wondering why you're here after all this time apart, then proceeds to adjust his posture before stepping to the side. It’s a form of an unspoken invitation you accept with grace, albeit hesitantly. Once inside, you can hear him close the door with a gentle thud. He walks around you and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” you say eventually, nervously meeting his gaze as you unwrap the scarf from around you neck.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. No nickname, no emotion.

You swallow your breath. “H-how are you?”

He scoffs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, although one you definitely deserve.

“Seriously? We don’t talk for over a month and that’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie sounds mad. He is mad.

“Right, sorry,” you reply and momentarily chew on the inside of your cheek. “I-I honestly just wanted to come by and explain myself. If you’d let me, that is.”

The metalhead exhales softly. He lets his shoulder slouch, relax a little, and opens his mouth to say something when a knock on the trailer door interrupts him. He glances at the clock on the wall and his reaction causes you to think it’s a client, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom, giving him a few minutes to conduct his business.

You're certainly not trying to listen to his conversation. In fact, you turn the tap on just so you can focus on the sound of running water instead of his conversation, but the paper thin walls of the trailer make it nearly impossible not to eavesdrop.

“Thanks again for lending this to me,” a preppy voice you don’t really recognise speaks, “You were so right, perfect record for getting high,” the girl chuckles and your stomach twists ‘cause unfortunately it seems you couldn’t have been more wrong about this being some sort of deal.

“No worries, darlin’. Glad I could be of service,” Eddie’s charming. You picture him smiling, most likely towering over the girl who came to see him and your heart aches.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, I came by to give you that tape back and see if you’re free this Saturday. My parents are out of town and…” You force yourself to fizzle out the rest of that sentence. You did not want to be thinking about him with someone else right now — or ever.

When a soft slam indicates the girl has most likely left, you re-emerge from the bathroom.

Eddie doesn’t look at you. Not at first anyway. He places the item he just received on one of the kitchen counters and leans his back against another.

As you open your mouth to begin your rehearsed apology, your focus unintentionally darts to the item now next to him. Whoever said curiosity killed the cat was a hundred percent correct because the moment you register what album that girl was referring to, you go stiff.

“What the fuck, Eddie.”

The metalhead is confused by your words. He raises a brow in your direction but realisation only dawns on him when you snatch the tape from the counter and lift it in front of his face. Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“Why would you give this to some random chick?” You question, hoping he can detect the hurt in the tone of your voice.

But Eddie only shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You gave it to me. It’s mine now. I figured I could do whatever I wanted with it.”

“That wasn’t the point of me gifting this to you. How dare you pawn it off onto some girl who you most likely just wanna have sex with?!”

That causes him to stand straight and take a step towards you.

“I don’t get why you’re so upset by this. You are the one who iced me out when all I ever did was be there for you. I figured if you could disregard our years of friendship for no apparent reasons and with no communication, I can lend a stupid tape to someone.”

“I had my reasons—”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie interrupts, “But you never shared them with me. I called you every fucking day after you went back to college! The list of pathetic excuses your roommate has given me, if she ever bothered to pick up the phone you clearly forgot how to use, is long enough to fill a goddamn novel!”

“That’s literally why I came here this evening! I want to explain and get back to where we were before!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

Something inside you snaps in that moment.

“My dad died, Eddie!” You shout, tears starting to trail down your cheeks, “God, I am so fucking sorry that his death and how I chose to grieve losing a fucking parent was an inconvenience for you! I am so fucking sorry that your ego was bruised when I didn’t pick up the phone or return your calls while my life was literally falling apart at the seams!”

He’s taken aback by your sudden outburst, mouth half-open as if he doesn’t know what to say next. It made sense that he doesn't. In all the years you've been friends, you have never raised your voice at him. The two of you didn’t argue, ever, because there was never a reason to.

“You have every right to be annoyed with me for icing you out, I’m not trying to take away from that," you continue, slightly calmer, “But handing out a tape that literally means the world to me since it reminds me solely of you, is a fucking stab in the back. Especially knowing now your intention was to hurt me.”

You chuck the cassette at Eddie’s chest. He catches it, not breaking the hold he had on your gaze.

“You may not see it that way and you may even think I’m dramatic or over reacting. That’s fine too. What you don’t get to do however, is give me shit about how I chose to handle my dad’s death because that’s not fair,” you sob that last part, voice breaking.

Eddie’s clutching onto the tape.

There’s an agonising moment of silence. You're not sure how long it lasts. A minute, perhaps, or ten. During that time, your eyes remain locked with Eddie’s and you can feel your heart breaking. You wonder if he feels the same and then you wonder if hoping he did, made you a terrible person.

“So where do we go from here, huh?” Eddie asks, monotone.

Apparently your lack of rebuttal was all Eddie needed, because after another moment of heavy silence, he states: “Perhaps… Perhaps space is exactly what we need.”

Earth shattering, his words.

“That’s the conclusion you’re coming to?” You probe, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your winter coat.

He nods. “We clearly forgot how to be there for one another.”

You realise then that nothing could have prepared you for this. Pushing Eddie out of your life these last few weeks wasn’t going to make losing him any more bearable. If anything, it only hurt more.

Chewing down on the inside of your cheek in a lame attempt to prevent the floodgates opening further, you reach for the inside pocket of your coat and retrieve a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a green bow.

“Here,” you say blankly, devoid of any further emotion, “I meant when I said I came here to explain myself, but if you believe being apart is for the better, I guess I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly takes the envelopes out of your grasp and you adjust your hold in the process to make sure your fingers don’t brush against his.

“These are all the letters I wrote you while we didn’t speak. Read ‘em, burn ‘em, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Your exit is swift. Not like it matters because Eddie doesn’t bother chasing after you.

After starting your car and glancing at his trailer one last time, you drive off completely heartbroken because Eddie was no longer your Bobby McGee. He was not your best friend and apparently you meant nothing to him.

November 1984

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s question remains unanswered for approximately forty three seconds while you try to gather your thoughts. The carpeted floor of your childhood bedroom is oddly comforting, so in a way, right this moment, you're doing relatively okay.

Eddie’s next to you. His hand is on your thigh which he squeezes gently every so often, probably to check if you're awake since your eyes are closed.

After your breakdown in the kitchen, Eddie practically carried you upstairs, away from the pitiful looks of everyone gathered in the living room. He carefully sat you down on the floor, just under the window, and opened it with ease. Who knew? Fresh air was all you apparently needed.

But how were you really doing? Not good, would be the simple option. Not good, would tell him all he needed to know and it would also be the honest answer ‘cause how else are you supposed to be doing hours after burying your dad.

“Better,” you lie.

He stiffens next to you, meaning he didn’t exactly believe you.

“Sweetheart—”

“Why are you calling me that?” You ask, finally opening your eyes and immediately turning your head to look at him.

Judging by the expression on his face, he’s taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He doesn’t say that though.

“It’s just a nickname.”

“No, it’s not," you protest, almost in a scoff. “That’s not what you usually call me, so why do you keep calling me that?”

Eddie frowns. “Seriously, sweetheart, don’t read too much into it. It’s really just a nickname.”

Unsure of why you're so on edge and why his new pet name has irritated you so much, you stand. Even with the open window, the room suddenly felt really stuffy. You place your hands on your hips, only to cross them across your chest, then quickly uncross them again.

“That’s not what— It sounds like you’re taking pity on me. Like you think I’m weak and you need to baby me or some shit.”

Eddie’s now up on his feet too. He towers over you, one hand on your shoulder while the other cups your face, and for a split-second, you're a little calmer.

“You’re overreacting.”

You were a little calmer. Eddie’s attempt at dissolving the situation only made you feel worse and so you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back.

“Prove it.”

His brows string together. “What?”

“Prove it,” you repeat. “Kiss me.”

The silence is overbearing. You knew the request was idiotic, yet it’s like your mouth had a mind of its own and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled like coffee. Worst part was, you didn’t even feel bad for putting him in this awkward position.

“I-I… I'm not going to do that.” Eddie says eventually. “It’s been a really emotional day, an emotional week, and you’re in your head, which is understandable, so let’s just—”

“Don’t tell me how emotional it’s been, Eddie. I know how emotional it’s been,” you practically snap at him, frustration levels rising. “Downstairs, there is a room full of people acting differently towards me because of what happened. I-I can’t have you being one of ‘em, Eddie. I need you to treat me like you’ve always treated me.”

“And I am.”

He reaches out for you, but you pull back from his plea.

“No, you’re not.”

That must’ve been the breaking point for the metalhead because right in front of your eyes, his demeanour changes completely. As does his tone of voice.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me ‘cause it’ll make you feel better or what’s the deal here? ‘Cause what I’m failing to understand is how is asking me to kiss you going to prove that I’m treatin’ you any different? We don’t— That’s not what we— Fuck!”

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy locks in frustration. That’s when you see it. A certain melancholy behind his chocolate-like gaze that you've only ever witnessed on a few rare occasions.

In retrospect, you should’ve stopped then. You should’ve said sorry and put this entire conversation to bed. You should’ve instead asked him to join you on the rooftop for a smoke or asked him to take a nap in your bed. You should’ve said literally anything else other than what you said next.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. Suddenly you feel like you're suffocating. The entire room is spinning, only Eddie is still and staring right through you. His soft expression hardened, almost displaying betrayal.

“Not like this.”

His voice is a mere whisper and for a brief moment you're not sure you even hear him correctly. You open your mouth, but no words come out. You're frozen. Dumbfounded.

The metalhead clears his throat. “I-I should go,” is all he says before walking out of the room and you force yourself to shake awake, hurrying after him.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask, but he ignores you, approaching the stairs. “Eddie, please.”

He stops. Eyes closing momentarily at the soft plea which just escaped your lips. He chewing on the inside of his cheek, debating what to do next 'cause either way, your relationship will never be the same.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask again, only softer, while closing the gap between you.

Eddie looks at you then. He scans every inch of your face as your hands hesitantly settle on his chest. He's sure you can feel his heart hammering, just as he can feel the unsteady beating of yours. And so he thinks how much he loves you and how he wanted to tell you that anyway in a few short weeks.

“Fuck it,” he mutters and dips his head lower, his lips crashing against yours in a yearning kiss.

He tastes like cigarettes and the mints he indulges in to try and cover up the tar on his breath — intoxicating. His hands cup your face, firmly pulling you in closer with every passing second, as his body pushes into yours, causing you to stumble backwards until you hit a random wall.

The kiss is fuelled by pent up tension, a desire you both shared but didn't want to admit in fear of ruining the best friendship you've ever had. It's a dance of fire and ice. Both of you are aching for even more, yet wanting nothing more at the same time. However, since that line was now crossed and there's no going back, Eddie gets braver and bites down your bottom lip and as you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue in with ease.

You feel elated as his tongue explores your mouth, hands squishing your face while your fingers tug at his shirt. The kiss is perfect. This moment is. He's perfect.

But then you think how you landed in this situation and a ping of guilt rushes through you. Shit.

Your fingers splay flat across his chest and you open your eyes, suddenly pushing him away. Eddie feels the pressure and breaks the kiss, pulling his head back slightly, gaze dropping from your eyes to where your hands are then back to your eyes.

You look panicked and his heart sinks.

He drops his hold on you and takes a step back. He opens his mouth to say that this is what you wanted but if he crossed a line than he's sorry, unfortunately he just doesn't get the chance. In the blink of an eye, you disappear back into your room, slamming the door shut.

December 1984

The sound of the car engine starting makes Eddie flinch.

He's holding onto the unopened letters completely speechless and his heart is aching because all he has ever wanted was to make you happy, yet instead he hurt you.

Deeply.

All because his feelings were hurt; thinking back to the kiss you shared.

A kiss that should have been heaven, and instead ended like hell. The feeling of your lips against his invades Eddie’s thoughts at the best and worst of times. And the image of you disappearing into your room without a word… that haunts his nightmares.

But at the end of the day, his love for you is ever present. If not stronger. Just because you pulled him in, then pushed him away twice as fast, that didn’t change how he feels.

He unfortunately had to be a prick about it. ‘Cause he has no self control, no self respect, and hurt people, hurt people.

So he debates running after you, following you home so the two of you could maybe finish this conversation on a better note. Yet, something within him is holding him back.

Your words, "I don't give a shit anymore", are ringing in his ears and the letters are heavy in his grasp. He glances down at them and chews on the inside of his cheek, shuffling through the stack as he wanders towards the couch to sit.

He’s not really sure what he’s expecting to find out. What he reads though, is deeply personal and the further down the stack he gets, the guiltier he feels.

With the letters still in his grasp, Eddie is back on his feet in a flash. He doesn't bother throwing on a jacket, in his mind there is no time 'cause you love him just as much as he loves you and he fucked it up.

He hastily reaches for the keys to his van and the scarf you left behind. Unfortunately, the stupid piece of shit car doesn't start and the rational part of Eddie's brain knows it's the icy conditions, the engine block probably froze over, however he also can't help but feel this is karma.

Jesus Christ, he runs a hand down his face and exhales. He is such a fucking idiot.

pearl masterlist | main masterlist

thank you for reading <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson best friend #bestfriend!eddie #pearl (eddies version)

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bullsandthebones · 2 years

Text

"Car Lights" Pt2

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Fem Aligned DNI

Content Warning: Homophobia, Bullying, Rumor Spreading, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Mention of Cigarettes, Descriptions of Panic Attacks, We also have Hurt/Comfort that I didn't mean to add but yk, Reader gets beat to shit, Toxic Love, Slurs Mentioned

you did this to yourselves. repent for your sins however you deem fit. also I had just been watching A Court of Fey & Flowers before this so the wording has become regal, I apologize. I hurt myself with this as well so have fun.

Three weeks. Three full weeks had passed before you went back to school.

A fateful Friday, the day of your return, was also the day of an important basketball game, one that determined if the team would go to the state championships. You returned to school on that day in hopes that the game would overshadow your existence.

You hoped that not even he would notice, you hoped that he would be too focused on practicing to be aware of your presence.

Three weeks of letters being left wedged in your car door. Three weeks of gifts dropped off at your door in the dead of night. Three weeks of calls, three weeks of cigarette butts littering your garden, three weeks of rocks thrown at your window. Three weeks of this, three weeks of that. Three weeks that told you he was going to notice no matter what.

Your arrival was rather unceremonious. Your car sputtered into the parking lot and you slammed the door shut as you walked up to the entrance of the school. You speed walk past a group of teens chattering about in the lot, keeping your head down.

You had almost made it to your first class successfully, but you heard someone call your name before you could slip into the door. Panic arose in your chest, clutching your lungs and your heart, making you light headed and wobbly. Your breathing quickened as you slowly turned around.

A sea of eyes looked at you and the whispers began. A glance here, a cupped hand to an ear there, they all knew.

And they were all staring at you.

Your skin felt feverish, but you felt a chill run down your spine. You were freezing cold but burning hot at the same time. Your hands begin shaking as your eyes dart around in an attempt to find who called your name.

When they land on him, confusion and apprehension fills you. The former proclaimed "King of Hawkins" was rapidly approaching you, a nervous look in his eyes as he realized his mistake in calling out your name. He quickly grabbed onto your arm and led you to an empty classroom, flipping off anyone who made remarks about the scene.

Once he closed the door, he let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get everyone's attention."

Steve rests a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you, but you flinch away. You've heard about what they do to people like you in towns like this. He quickly retracts his hand and holds both of them up in surrender, not wanting to freak you out.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, we're on the same team." He gestures vaguely as he speaks, but the way he says it hints at something more than him being an ally.

Your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. Steve Harrington, a queer? You motion for him to continue speaking as you relax your tense stance a bit.

"I thought you might-", he pauses, thinking carefully about his next choice of words, " I thought you might want a friend. I-in a situation like this, you know?"

You regard Steve carefully. His posture, his facial expression, his everything. He feels genuine, and for the first time in three weeks, you relax your whole body, almost collapsing into him. Steve catches your body, helping you stay upright.

"Yes, I.. I would like a friend." Your voice was raspy and broken due to lack of use. Steve just holds you as you attempt to regain your composure and clear your thoughts. He seems awkward but not willing to pull away, as though if he moves you'll break and crumble into millions of pieces. Ones that, try as he might, he could never put back together, not correctly. Not perfectly. Not you.

Unbeknownst to you, or to Steve, a certain blonde haired boy watched you get dragged off into that classroom.

×××

Rumors had spread about the school like wildfire.

"I heard that Steve Harrington kissed that little queer guy!"

"Well I heard they hooked up in the bathroom!"

"No way, Steve Harrington wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole!"

They all got back to you by the end of the day, Steve reassured you that rumors wouldn't deter him from sticking by your side. "I've been through worse.", was what he told you, a scary look in his eyes as he said it.

You had said some goodbyes at the entrance of the school before you both parted ways to your respective vehicles. You had majorly relaxed since the beginning of the day, no one dared to touch you with Steve by your side, and most people were too excited by the game to care. Even as the sky began to darken and the crisp autumn weather grew colder for the night, you were almost at ease.

Almost.

Hairs pricked at the nape of your neck, you felt like you were being watched as you opened your car door. Most people weren't in the lot, opting to stay and get ready for the game, so no one should be watching you. You gulp, attempting to push the feeling down as you clamber into the car.

Before you can fully sit down, a hand grabs your arm roughly and pulls you out. You fall to the ground with the force, looking up to see the one guy you had been avoiding for weeks. "Billy, please-"

Loud, howling laughter surrounds you as the rest of the basketball team steps out of seemingly nowhere. You knew what was coming, you just weren't expecting it from him.

A glimpse of pain flashes over Billy's eyes, before turning to rage. You see him wind back his leg, not even registering the blow to your side until he does it again. Cheering sounds from all around you, the situation feeling so surreal. Billy kicks and stomps you, shouting nonsense and slurs. You don't hear it, you're focused on the feeling of blood leaking from your nose and he breaks it with his fist. You don't attempt to fight back, not seeing the use in it, you can't win a fight against Billy. You could never fight him in the first place.

You accepted the beating, knowing that, unfortunately, your feelings towards the boy couldn't change.

You loved him. You loved him even though each kick to your ribs made a sharp cracking sound. You loved him even though blood was leaking from your broken nose down to your busted lips. You loved him even though you could taste blood in your throat and in your mouth.

When the jeering quieted down and the jocks felt as though the show had gotten boring, the reminder of your place in society had come to a stop. They dispersed without even a second thought, not even a glance back at you, at your body that had curled up in on itself as soon as they started leaving.

Billy stood back for a moment, a look of pure disgust and remorse adorning his features. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but when he saw you tremble and cough up blood, a tear fell from his eye and he briskly walked back into the school.

Leaving you there.

Alone.

On the freezing cold concrete that welcomed you as you lost any sort of consciousness that you were desperately clinging onto.

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catsandgoodbooks · 8 months

Text

I have no idea what I'm doing or if this is even whumpy enough, but I looked over the prompt list and I couldn't say no <3

No. 1: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

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Dream burrowed deeper into the too-soft blankets he was surrounded by, too cold to worry about how smooth and silky everything was, how foreign it all was. He was freezing. They weren’t enough. He was so, so cold and there wasn’t anything he could do about it and he could barely move in the first place and he felt just so horrible and his head was aching and his vision was blurry and he didn’t know why.

(Dream thought back to Pandora’s Vault, the cell that he had spent a whole year of his life in, the prison that slowly, slowly became synonymous with home. He thought back to the cool dark obsidian surrounding everything there, the warm warm warm lava cutting off the cell from the rest of the world. He almost missed it. He knew that Technoblade would never let him go back. He knew that was a problem. He also knew how to solve it, but he couldn’t do that now; he wouldn’t be allowed to do that now. He just had to wait, which is what he always did; what he had been doing for so long and would have to do once again)

Dream was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a door opening. His eyes flew to the source of the sound, landing on the faint shape of a pink-haired man walking through the doorway, before hiding his face in the blankets. He was too tired and cold to deal with this and he felt like he wanted to die but knew he didn’t want to and knew he probably wouldn’t.

“Heyyyyy, Dream,” Technoblade said, suddenly by the bed. He tugged the blankets back a little bit, exposing Dream’s head. “How you’re doing there?”

“Ughhh,” Dream muttered, trying to cover himself with the blankets again. He was too cold, with them or without, but it still made him feel better, just a little bit. “Go awayyyy, Tech.”

“Not a chance, nerd. Not until you feel better,” Techno responded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four,” Dream told him. He was pretty sure that Techno was holding up two fingers, even if they all seemed to blur together. He still had to try, even if his head really hurt and he was still freezing.

Technoblade frowned, and Dream pushed down a rush of oh Prime he just fucked up because it was Techno, not Sam. Techno would never hurt him. “I’m holding up two fingers right now, Dream.”

“Sorry,” Dream looked away, back towards the blankets he was cocooned in.

“No, it’s okay,” Techno said. “It’s not your fault that you’re not feeling well. Can I check your temperature?”

Dream reluctantly rolled towards Technoblade, trying to move as little as possible to avoid the stinging pain and pins and needles stabbing him whenever he did. He didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to be hurt. (But that had never stopped anyone before)

Techno reached out (Dream tried to suppress a flinch, an expectation of pain) and put a hand on his forehead lightly before drawing back. He grimaced. “You’re burning up, Dream.”

“‘M cold,” Dream murmured.

“That’d be the fever,” Techno informed him. “Sorry about that, but we can’t really help that much. I mean, we’re trying, but still. We can’t fix everything, and being sick is one of those things you just have to wait it out. It sucks.” He wrinkled his nose, and Dream let out a soft laugh. “Phil made you some soup, if you’re up for it. It’s hot, y’know.”

That sounded nice. He wasn’t hungry, but he was just so cold. Dream tried to push himself into a sitting position but failed, his arms buckling, collapsing back into his cocoon of blankets.

“Uh, yeah, that might make it a bit difficult,” Techno responded. “Don’t worry about it; I can go bring you some and we can work something out.”

Dream nodded. He was still shivering a little, and his head felt like it was full of cotton, and he hated it. “It’s fine. ‘M not hungry.”

“Well, you should still eat, y’know. You’re not going to get any better if you don’t.”

“Fine.” Dream leaned his head back onto his pillow. His eyes flickered closed. “Fine,” he told Technoblade again.

“Good. If you’re fine with it, I’ll go get some soup,” Techno explained. “Be back in a minute, okay?”

Dream nodded without opening his eyes. It was fine with him. (It wasn’t because then he’d be alone and he was safe when he was alone at least a little but he never wanted to be alone and he’d already been for so long but if he asked Technoblade to stay that would admitting weakness, admitting that he cared, and he couldn’t do that and he was already so much of a burden–)

The sheets rustled as Technoblade brushed against them as he stepped away from the bed, footsteps following across the floor. As the sounds faded away, Dream tucked himself back into the cocoon of blankets around him, hold onto the blankets with shaking hands. They were so suffocatingly soft and if he could feel them, then he couldn’t be back at the prison no matter how dark it was or how alone he felt.

The door opened again, and the footsteps were back. Techno was back. (Dream wasn’t sure if he was excited or scared or just so, so numb)

“Hey, bestie! You still in there?” Techno asked, setting a bowl down on the bedside table, and Dream poked his head out of the blankets. “Good – I brought soup!”

“Yeah?” Dream asked quietly, subconsciously glancing at the steaming bowl on the table next to him. It smelled good.

“Uh huh,” Techno answered. “Think you can sit up?”

Dream glared at him. “What do you think?”

“Okay, so no then,” Techno responded. “Well, that’s fine, y’know. We can deal with that. Spoonfeeding’s okay with you?” he asked, picking up the spoon next to the bowl of soup, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh my Prime, Techno, I have hands!” Dream immediately protested, his face red. “I have fucking hands I can use!” But his refusals were more playful than anything else, and the tight painful tangle in his chest was starting to unravel, just a little bit.

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #“how many fingers am I holding up?”#dsmp #fic #sickness #c!dream #c!techno #rivals duo #my writing

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flywolfwriting · 2 years

Text

Love is Patient, Love is Blind - Ch. 2

Everyone else’s nightmare world ended a year ago, but Martin’s had just begun. He’d waited for Jon to either wake up or die before, but he hadn’t been the one to kill him then. He hadn’t already lost everything.

True to her word, Basira had returned with blankets, food, and water. Even a small heater. He’d woken up with a duvet thrown over him. He could hear her moving around upstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Jon’s side until Dr. Midec arrived and Basira came back down.

“You have run of the house,” she said. “The back garden is secluded enough that you should be safe to pop out for a spot of fresh air; just don’t leave the property. Lay low.”

Martin only nodded mutely.

“Does he… uh… need any statements?”

Martin shrugged and glanced at Jon. Dr. Midec was changing his bandage. How long had he been asleep?

“Well… I hope not. All of them were destroyed with the Panopticon. The institute is a rehab center now, a place for people to get help with any nightmares they still have.”

Martin didn’t reply. It seemed he had used up all his words when he’d told Basira everything that had happened. What he did.

Basira seemed to understand. Offering a mobile phone, she told him to let her know if he needed anything. She had a few agents - whatever that meant - in the area that would be able to help. She promised to always text the name and a picture of anyone new stopping by and not to answer the door if he wasn’t expecting someone. Dr. Midec had the door code, so he didn’t have to worry about him.

Martin accepted all of this and went to sit next to Jon until Dr. Midec finished. He gave Martin a brief rundown on things to watch for and things he would need to do when the doctor wasn’t there.

Finally, they were left alone.

The silence was torturous. It reminded Martin too much of the Lonely. He had to get up and do something. So he did. He made up his cot with the blankets. He draped one over Jon so he didn’t freeze. He set up the heater in the one outlet in the cave-basement they’d arrived in.

When he couldn’t find an excuse to stay downstairs any long, he finally trekked to the kitchen. He went through the food Basira had brought th- him. It was mostly canned food and things that wouldn’t take long to cook. That was good, because Martin was sprinting down the stairs every two minutes to check on Jon, terrified he’d find him cold and pale and still.

He made chicken noodle soup and went down to eat beside his comatose boyfriend before bundling himself in his blankets and going to sleep.

—————————

“I can’t lose you, not like this.”

The weight of Jon collapsed against him, trembling with strain.

“Tough! Where you go, I go.”

“That’s the deal. Okay.”

“What?”

He knew, but he didn’t want to understand.

“Do it. The knife’s just there.”

A jerk of the head, toward the very thing he was trying to ignore.

“I’m not going to kill you!”

He’d thought about it, but dismissed it. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“Maybe we both die… maybe we end up somewhere else.”

It was a lie. He knew that. Knew that he was just trying to make him feel better. Convince him.

“Together?”

The cold of the steel, heavy in his hands.

“One way or another. Together.”

His body wasn’t listening; something else seemed to have taken hold of him. He couldn’t do this.

“Are you sure about this?”

Please tell me not to please beg me to put it down please do anything you can to save your life-

“No. But I love you.”

The pained look in his eyes, begging him. For what, he didn’t know. Forgiveness? Release? Whatever it was, it wasn’t mercy.

“I love you too.”

The warmth of his lips.

Then the squelching crunch of the knife as it entered Jon’s body, pushing up under his ribs. His gasp of startled pain, then blood, blood everywhere, sticky and burning hot on Martin’s hands, the smell choking him, Jon falling heavy into him as they were dragged into darkness, the feeling of Jon’s pulsing heart against Martin’s chest and then the sudden stillness and nothing but the blood drenching him-

Martin lurched up, the soup splattering to the cold stone floor. Dr. Midec looked up from Jon, concern evident on his face, but Martin ignored him and scrambled for his boyfriend.

“Hey-“ the doctor started, but stopped when Martin rested his head against Jon’s chest.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

Quiet but steady, and most importantly there.

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

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#my fic #tma #the magnus archives #fanfic #flywolf33 #flywolfwriting #jmart #jonmartin #ao3 #linked #hurt/comfort #hurt jon #emotionally hurt Martin #jon simms #martin blackwood #post mag 200 #time travel ish #please don't repost to another site

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arjaandsimoni · 1 month

Text

CLANG!

Jaipur India

It had been a week, and Arja and Simoni returned home. Sadly however, Akul could offer little. A week of scouring ancient texts and examining their family’s stockpile of magical artifacts offered nothing. No tools or spells or techniques to resist the cold or ice.

They were the Vanara, the monkey-folk of India, a part of the world that didn’t even have winter but rather had a mild season that they called ‘winter,’ then Summer, then Monsoon, then post-Monsoon. Snow was something they only ever saw in the highest mountains or on television. They’d never needed a way to resist the cold before!

Simoni landed outside the house with a sigh, letting Arja off her back as she changed back to her human form. “Well, it was worth a try Arja…” she shrugged, “We’ll just have to deal with it somehow.”

Arja sighed loudly, looking upwards at the sky as she leaned back, “Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah, just… uuuuuuugh…” she frowned, “I’m gonna have to bundle up like crazy just to keep from freezing already! How am I going to fight like that?!”

“I dunno, hell flying is gonna be impossible for… huh?” she paused, the garuda as she looked around… one of the bushes outside the house was moving.

Suddenly the bush burst open and a podgy man with a bad combover and a too small teeshirt burst into view. The twigs and sticks stuck in his hair suggested he’d been hiding there for a while. He raised his smartphone at them. “ARJA!” he grinned widely, aiming the camera lens at her.

Arja scowled and immediately transformed, her hands bursting into flames, “OH HELL NO! I AM IN NO MOOD FOR ANOTHER ONE OF YOU TODAY!” she snarled.

Simoni looked around frantically, “GUARDS! HEY! INTRUDER! SOMEONE GET NELEN! HURRY!” she called out.

Arja began channeling a burst of fire, all worry about the cold forgotten. This had been happening ever since they got back from Sri Lanka and she was fed UP with it! “One chance you freaking sicko! Put the phone away and leave, NOW, or you’re ash!”

Simoni whined, but she wasn’t strong enough to hold Arja back and the girl’s temper was burning hot! “GUARDS! C’MON ALREADY!” she called out again, she’d use her magic if she had to…

Then suddenly there was a loud metallic CLANG!

The intruder jolted, then their eyes went crossed before they slowly pitched over, landing on the ground in a heap.

Standing behind them was a small girl with long dark hair and one massive green eye who looked like she might be in preschool, wearing a pink teeshirt with a picture of a Pikachu on it, a denim skirt, and a pair of pink sandals… and holding a folding chair with a large head-shaped dent in it.

“… ‘N 'ERE COMES SCYLLA WITH A STEEL CHAIR!” laughed a figure behind them.

Arja stared at the crumpled form of her would be paparazzi, then turned behind her to see Loren walking forward with a grin. “Hoy there ye wee monkey. Nelen ain’t in. ‘e had ta go back up yer faerie friends, so I’m playin’ babysitter.”

Simoni looked between her and Scylla, then frowned. She had heard a few things about Loren from when they were working together at the Wulfshead before they’d overthrown Franklin Fullmoon, and one of those was that she was a very big fan of wrestling. “Loren… why did my niece just clobber him with a folding chair?” she asked pointedly.

“STEEWL CHAIW! STEEWL CHAIW!” cheered Scylla, waving the damaged object over her head as if it weighed nothing at all.

“Look, if our cous is gonna ‘ave me babysit he can’t expect me ta nae teach th’ wee ‘un a thing or two…” she laughed… then the three looked over as they heard a groan. The intruder was trying to rise.

Scylla frowned at him and CLANG! “NO!” she shouted, “STEEWL CHAIW!” she insisted, pointing to it as he collapsed again.

Arja had resumed her human form, the vanara girl grinning, “Well, I’m not going to complain if Scylla brains one of these idiots. What are they going to do? Press charges on a little girl?” she asked, “I mean, she won’t kill him…”

Then the three jumped as another loud CLANG echoed around the area! “STEEWL CHAIW!” shouted Scylla once more!

Then again!

Then yet again!

Loren winced, “Ah… Scylla lass! That’s enough! ‘e’s down! Ye win!” she called out.

Simoni looked around frantically, “Where the HELL are the guards?!”

CLANG CLANG CLANG!

“OKAY SCYLLA! YE WIN! I’M RINGIN’ TH’ BELL! THAT MEANS YE WIN!” yelled Loren, looking worried now. Nelen would be VERY pissed off if she caused his daughter to commit unintentional homicide!

Simoni looked back and forth nervously. Scylla could get very grabby and shove-y when she got wound up, and she was strong enough to break her arm by accident! She couldn’t exactly go in and pull her off him!

“STEEWL CHAIW! STEEWL CHAIW!” chanted Scylla at the top of her lungs, then suddenly there was a loud CRACK and the top half of the chair snapped clean away from the bottom half, landing in the bushes! “… no moaw steewl chaiw?” asked Scylla, looking at it.

Both Loren and Simoni breathed a sigh of relief… then froze as they heard Scylla shout, “PIL’DWIVUH!”

“SHITE! NO NO NO NO NO!” yelled Loren frantically as she raced forward, easily the only one there who could hope to be strong enough to stop her.

Simoni cringed as she saw what state their home invader was in. Whether he was there illegally or not, this was pretty bad as far as injuries went. “Oh those guards are SO fired! WHERE THE HELL IS EVERYONE?!”

Arja just grinned, “… I’m not complaining. I didn’t do it.” she nodded.

Loren walked back over, holding the struggling form of Scylla tight to her chest as the cyclops child screamed and yelled, “Er… so… cannae ask ye lasses ta not tell Nelen ‘bout this?” she chuckled.

“FIGHT NO OVAH! WANNA WRASSLE!” screamed Scylla at the top of her lungs, trying to force herself free from Loren’s grip as the Fullmoon warrior held her as tightly as she could.

Eventually the guards were located and after a lot of shouting back and forth about whose shift it was and Rajesh eventually cutting in with ‘I don’t care who’s at fault, get him to a hospital and then on a plane back to wherever he came from!’ the group retreated inside, Scylla in her room now with an angry expression.

Loren had, as her babysitter, tried to explain to her that as fun as fights were that wrestlers had to stop when they heard the bell… but the young cyclops was refusing to accept it, so she had to be sent to her room for time out.

Simoni was mostly just annoyed that Loren thought it was a good idea to let her watch WWE when they already had enough trouble keeping her from breaking things by accident.

Arja however…

Scylla sat on her bed and pouted as Simoni griped at Loren in the other room… then looked up as the door opened a crack and Arja winked at her, sliding a small bowl with three round pastries in it into the room. Gulab Jamin, an Indian treat that was effectively a doughnut dunked in rose sugar.

The cyclops child grinned and ducked forward as Arja said to her, “Can’t do that to all of ‘em, but I won’t pretend I didn’t like seeing that. Still, next time let the grown ups handle it okay? Maybe in a few years you can help us beat up the bad guys.”

Scylla smiled at her around a mouthful of pastry, nodding. “Mmmpgh!”

“Attagirl.” replied Arja, ruffling her hair, then putting a finger to her lips and closing the door behind her, then walking back to the main area of the rec room, “I could get used to being the cool aunt.” she smirked to herself.

Sammi’s Apartment, Covington Kentucky

Nelen sat at the bar with Dawn next to him, the magus dressed in his usual teeshirt and jeans. Hardwearing cheap clothes that could be easily replaced. Dawn was in a teeshirt and jeans as well, but without her sock hat or glasses and with her tail untucked. No need to hide her true nature here.

Across from them were Stephy, Tex, and Sammi. The changeling princess sighed at him, rubbing his temples. “Great, so they attacked our house again. Thank goodness goblins are good at repairs…” he murmured. He was dressed in a white silk pullover top and a long pale blue skirt, along with strappy heels today, his nails painted to match his skirt and his hair held back by a hairband.

“You’re welcome.” chuckled Sammi. The prince, by contrast, had on a deep blue tunic and a pair of black tights, along with a pair of slip-on house shoes. He was currently enjoying a rather fruity decoction consisting of a goblin fruit not entirely unlike pears that made the sound of weeping when juiced, a generous helping of gin, and garnished with a herb that only grew in the depths of Winter in the Hedge, on the rocks (of course.)

Tex rolled his eyes, the mortal boy wearing a warm red woolen sweater and blue jeans at the moment. “Still, good thing ya’ll showed up when ya did… Reynard told us ‘bout th’ fight. Guess now we at least know what they all look like.” he nodded.

“Mmm… would have rather you guys waited for me to take on the Mill Creek Monster though, but at least that’s one of them down.” commented Nelen.

Dawn grinned at him, her tail swishing, “Oh lighten up ya grouchy ol’ wizard. These guys are practically adults themselves. Heck Simoni and Stephy were sorting out problems around here before they even met these two.” she pointed out.

Stephy blushed, “Yeah… before I even knew I could use magic infact…” added the changeling princess. “Mostly I just told her where to go back then, I mean I know the area really well.” he shrugged, then looked at Nelen’s tablet which showed a map of Cincinnati. “Wish I knew it better though… I mean, I don’t know where exactly we should even look for their new Prince. Cincinnati just has too many places.” he sighed.

“Yeah… in a newer city like LA or something we’d have better odds, but Cincinnati is one of the oldest in the country. There’s places here that predate the Civil War that a vampire could have a haven in.” frowned Nelen as he looked over it. “I mean, we can narrow it down… but…”

Then all five of them looked up as the doorknocker echoed thrice...

They all shared a glance. “Did Natasha or anyone say they were coming?” asked Nelen.

Sammi frowned, “No… they did not…” he replied, setting his drink down on the bar and striding to the door, drawing his rapier. He took hold of the doorknob, then jerked it open and held the blade ready… only to take a step back as the acrid smell of fresh skunk hit his nostrils.

Standing in the doorway was a hunched figure in a huge trenchcoat under another heavy winter coat, held up by a cane. Under his jackets was a teeshirt with ‘I didn’t vote for your god’ printed on it. He had wild grey hair and a scraggly beard.

“Ya’ll gonna invite me in or am I just gonna freeze my dick off?” asked Dusty the Hedge Mage.

“Dusty!” grinned Nelen as he sat up, “Hey man, thanks for helping the kids out.”

“No problem. Burned a bit but I got better.” he chuckled, limping his way in and sliding into the bar stool next to Dawn, then looked at Grabkins as the goblin glanced at him. “Surprise me.” he smiled toothlessly.

Sammi was still by the door with a rather annoyed expression, “How the bloody hell did you know how to find the door?!” he demanded.

“Squirrels told me.” he nodded.

Sammi frowned and slammed the door, “I think we’re all getting very tired of that joke.” he snapped, sheathing his rapier as it vanished.

“Pity, ‘cause its true.” he grinned.

“It is the truth Sam. Dusty has been able to talk to them ever since we were kids. Used to use them to play pranks on kids who were assholes to us back when we were in Elementary School together.” he replied.

Stephy looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Wait… that rumor about trees that shoot acorns at Hinsdale was you guys?!” he asked.

Dusty laughed, grinning wide to show his mostly empty jawline as he nodded. “Couldn’t let Nelen just beat th’ shit outta ‘em or else he’d get suspended… soooooo…”

Sammi frowned in annoyance, then glanced at Grabkins who was watching him expectantly. He always made sure with that order. The changeling prince smirked, nodding, “You heard him Grabkins, surprise him.”

The goblin shrugged, “Right ye are m’lord.” and set to work.

“Hang on… if he could do stuff like that when he was a kid he can’t just be a hedge mage…” murmured Stephy, “He’s got to be from some sort of supernatural bloodline. Learning an animal’s language can take an entire lifetime.”

Nelen shrugged, “Nope, he’s human. Mom made a point of checking when she found out he could do that in case Franklin caught wind of it. He’s just some sort of prodigy when it comes to certain tricks.” he replied, “So, why are you here though? You wouldn’t limp your twisted up spine all the way to Covington in the dead of winter just to say hello.”

Dusty nodded, “Aye, well… ‘cause th’ squirrels heard somethin’ important.” he nodded, waving for them to pass over the tablet. He zoomed around the map a bit, sticking his tongue out as he concentrated, then tapped a spot on it and nodded. “There! Squirrels heard some of th’ vampires talkin’. Big meetin’ there night after tomorrow night, ‘n their new boss is gonna be there.”

Nelen looked at it, then raised his eyebrow. “The Peters Cartridge Company building? Huh, but that’s not even abandoned. Theres still businesses working out of there.”

Dusty nodded, “Mmmhmm… ‘n who do ya’ll think owns ‘em?” he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

The group nodded at that. “Vampires.” replied Dawn. Maybe not directly, but it would mean that they could use the premises as they saw fit after hours and nobody would complain about it.

“Yup. They’ll be there in two days though. Squirrels know. They don’t think they listen, but they do.” he grinned, then he looked over as a large margarita glass was put down next to him with… something in it.

It was a very strange cocktail. It was pea soup green, it was thick and syrupy, there were… things floating in it… and it smelled… well… it just smelled.

Sammi watched him with a smirk, “You did ask a goblin to surprise you.” he teased.

Dusty raised his eyebrow at him, then smirked right back, took the large glass in both hands, and drained the entire thing in one go.

Sammi’s eyes went huge, his mouth falling open. He’d seen what Grabkins had put into that one. Some of those ingredients shouldn’t be safe for humans to drink! Some of them were still alive!

Dusty put the glass back down, then burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Coulda used some vodka.” he shrugged.

Dawn cackled so hard she fell off her stool onto the floor as Nelen turned to look at Sammi. “Yeah… Dusty isn’t going to shy away from most drinks. I’ve seen him down all sorts of things. Even brought him some Angel’s Urine from the Wulfshead once.” he nodded.

“It tasted like piss!” commented Dusty.

“Dusty, it was piss. The name isn’t a joke.” he replied.

“Still…” shrugged the hedge mage.

Sammi raised a finger, “Er… you might want to… um… I mean… some of those things are going to lay eggs soon…” he stammered.

“Eh, I ain’t worried.” Dusty shrugged.

“He’ll be fine. With all he’s done to himself his body is too toxic to support them.” added Nelen.

Stephy and Tex were staring at him, the two of them stunned into silence. Stephy could tell what sort of mischief Sammi was planning and Tex… well… he could see things moving in the glass, he could tell it wasn’t something he’d want to drink. The thing had its own ecosystem!

Sammi opened his mouth, then closed it, then put his fingers to his lips and looked down, and finally he took a seat as far away from Dusty as he could at the bar and said, “Grabkins, a ‘Midnight Summer’ with extra rosethorn absinthe please…” and went to pretending very pointedly that Dusty was not there.

Grabkins nodded to the prince, then turned to Dusty, “Well done sir.” he smirked, then got to work. While some might assume Grabkins to be akin to a certain type of elf in an unfortunately popular series of fiction, he was infact a paid employee. It had to be that way. No goblin would serve without a contract stipulating some form of recompense… but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy seeing Sammi get rattled on occasion. Goblins did have a rather twisted sense of humor.

As Sammi got his drink, Dusty got something that wasn’t likely to poison a normal person, and Dawn got back up off the floor the group made their plans. They knew where to strike now, all they had to do was get there.

Hopefully they could all go in together. If Arja and Simoni were with them they’d have a much better chance. Fire was lethal to vampires, their undead flesh highly flammable, but they would still have to worry about being outnumbered…

As they discussed plans however, Nelen’s phone rang. He looked at it, then nodded and answered. “Rajesh, whats up?” he asked, a moment later he sighed. “Ugh… dammit I was afraid of that. Look I’m sorry, but we had an emergency and I had to help. I did find Scylla a babysitter. Loren should have been able to run interference for…” he paused as he heard Rajesh speaking again.

“… uh huh… uh huh…” then he grimaced and sat up straight, “SCYLLA DID WHAT?!”

He groaned as he took off his glasses and covered his eyes, “Uuuuugh… at least he’s not dead… godsdammit Loren… okay, Rajesh? We’re going to need Arja and Simoni here by day after tomorrow… so hopefully that’ll discourage her fan club from this shit for a while. Just… tell them, Iravati, and the staff… whatever they do, DRUSILLA CANNOT KNOW THIS HAPPENED.” he nodded firmly. “Thanks… bye…” he sighed, hanging up.

Stephy, Tex, and Sammi looked between each other, then Stephy cleared his throat. “Uh… what happened? What did Scylla do?” he asked.

Dawn was grinning ear to ear, her sensitive hearing having picked up every word Rajesh had said, “Damn near pulped one of Arja’s stalker boys with a steel chair after she and Loren spent a morning watching old WWE reruns.”

Tex snorted as Stephy giggled a bit himself, Sammi having to quickly put down his drink or risk inhaling part of it as Dusty let out a loud cackle.

“Yeah… and for the record NOBODY. TELLS. DRUSILLA. She made me promise her as soon as Scylla first drew blood from a foe she’d get to start teaching her how to fight… and that guy was pretty smashed up so it definitely counts.” he nodded, “I’d like my daughter to not learn how to massacre people until she’s at least in high school dammit.”

Then he turned and looked directly at Dawn, “NOBODY TELLS.” he nodded firmly.

“I didn’t say anything!” she yowled, her tail trashing behind her.

“You thought it.” he said in a warning tone.

Dawn shrugged, “Yeah, I did.” she admitted.

And with that exchange, the meeting broke up. Dawn, Nelen, and Dusty went out to catch up over dinner at a local chili franchise while the others went about their day, preparing for the inevitable conflict with what may well prove to be a dire foe indeed…

#fiction #modern fantasy #supernatural adventures #lgbtq

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

Born This Way (Because Of Negligence Towards Basic Scientific Safety)

(IDK how far apart the Fenton kids are in age, so Jazz is an Undetermined Age Where She's A Toddler But Also Very Verbal. Maybe it's the Genius Genes letting her learn faster. Let's go with that.)

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

Maddie coughs, spitting out another glob of ectoplasm. "Well, at least know it's not an issues with the cooling system."

Jack sneezes out the ectoplasm stuck in his nose, and then grins and stands triumphantly. "Still a step towards success!"

Jazz frowns from where she's playing with her doll, safe within a Fenton Anti-Ghost Toddler Chamber. "Mommy, you should cover your mouth." She points at her own mouth. "Mr. Wummy on TV says dat getting weird stuff in your mouth is bad."

"Mr. Wummy is a cartoon, dear. We're seasoned scientists, we know what we're doing." She wipes herself off, and sits down. "If there were any side-effects to accidental ecoplasmic consumption, we'd know."

"But what if Danny doesn't like it?" Jazz point at her mother's belly.

Maddie pats her belly. "The baby is still just a fetus, sweetie. It can't tell what it does and doesn't like yet. And why are you so sure it'll be a boy?"

"Because I'm your baby girl. So now you need a baby boy!"

Maddie tilts her head and smiles lovingly at her daughter. "Oh, you're adorable." Nothing cuter than Child Logic.

Maddie stands back up, and puts her hands on the workbench. "Now, let's see about that firing mechanism..."

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

Maddie brushes her teeth, sighing when her toothbrush comes away glowing green. "We really messed up a lot of experiments today. I think I swallowed a whole ghost's worth."

Jack spits a similarly colored mouthful of toothpaste foam out. "At least it doesn't taste as bad as it smells."

Maddie puts her hands on her belly, the bump now quite obvious. "II hope we're right about it not having side effects."

Jack's expression softens. He gently pulls his wife into a comforting hug. "The doctors all say he's as healthy as can be, Mads. You don't need to worry."

"I still worry anyway, though."

"Of course you do. You're his mom! But we'll worry together, and if you ever need me to, I'll do the worrying for us both! While you relax and give him more tips on how to avoid ghosts once he learns to walk."

Maddie giggles, and sighs. It'll all be fine... nothing to worry about.

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

Jazz has her arms crossed, a teddy bear hanging from one hand. "Five times!"

"Yes, and did we mention we're so proud that you can count so we-"

"Five times!" She shouts again, waving her little sticky toddler hand at them. "I saw you eat the bad green stuff five times!"

"We didn't eat it," Maddie says patiently, "It got into our mouths by accident."

"You swallowed it!"

"Only a tiny bit, only on accident, dear."

Jazz puts her hand on her mom's belly. "Danny is gonna be here soon and he's gonna be mad!"

"He won't even know it happened, sweetheart."

"Yes he will! He'll be the smartest ever, just like me and like you and like daddy! And he'll be so upset and never stop crying!"

"Babies do that anyway, sweetie." Maddie rubs her belly. It's true, Danny is due any day now. And yes... there's been some extra Ectoplasm Incidents lately. Maddie just can't stay awake sometimes, and... well. That's not exactly good when working on ghost hunting machines.

"Your baby brother will be perfectly fine," Maddie assures. "He's a healthy baby boy, and he'll be just as healthy when you meet him."

Jazz lights up at the mention of meeting him. She can't wait!

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

Jazz bounces excitedly in her dad's arms. She gets to meet her baby brother! Finally! She's going to read him bedtime stories, and protect him from closet monsters, and show him how to throw a tea party!

Jack chuckles. "Calm down, sweetie, you don't get to play with him quite yet! He's still very fragile."

"But he's okay?"

"Yes, he and Mommy are both okay. Better than okay."

Jack knocks on the hospital room door, and they enter.

Maddie is holding Danny, and it looks like she fell asleep. Jazz gasps, even though all she can see so far is the blanket bundle.

"He's tiny!"

"Very." Again. Ah well. Jack had always hoped one of his kids would groww up to be taller than him, but maybe it'll have to be a grandkid.

He walks over, and smiles at his sleeping wife. "Okay, let's be quiet," he whispers. "We don't want to wake mommy."

Jazz nods seriously.

Jack sets her on the bed, and Jazz carefully crawls closer to Danny. She moves the blanket to get a good look at his face, grinning widly-!

She frowns. "Where is he?"

"What?!" Jack hurriedly picks up the bundle, making Maddie startle awake. "Holy-"

"Jack? Honey? What is it?!" Maddie's tone becomes increasingly panicked.

Jack, looking a bit pale, hands the bundle back to her. She gasps.

It's empty, and freezing!

"Where- where is-"

And then suddenly. He's there.

Fast asleep, wrapped up snug and tight. His little face still red from being brand-new to the world, his tiny tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly as he snoozes.

He disappears again.

Maddie thinks she's about to pass out.

Finally, Jazz breaks the horrified silence. "I told you to cover your mouths!"

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

Danny sleeps all the way home, and all the way up to his room. Jazz is waiting by the bassinet, and peeks in as soon as he's placed down. She frowns. "Mommy, his hair is white. He's not old."

Maddie sighs. "No, he's not. Apparently it just... does that, sometimes."

Danny yawns, and opens his little eyes. Jazz's own eyes widen as well. "He's glowing!"

"Yes... that happens too."

Danny screws up his face, and starts crying. Maddie picks him up and rocks him. "Poor baby... he's so cold."

"Why?" Jazz tilts her head.

Maddie sighs. "Well... your father and I... we think he's half-ghost."

"How?"

"... Probably... the ectoplasm," Shame burns in Maddie's veins.

Jazz, wide-eyed, reaches to to try and touch Danny. "Is he dead?" She doesn't sound sad, because it looks to her like even if he is dead, he's still alive.

"No!" Maddie shuts the idea right down. "He is a very healthy, living boy! But he's... different."

"Are you gonna trap him?"

"Wh- Jasmine, why would you ask that!"

"He's a ghost."

"No! No, we never treat him like any other ghost. And he's only partly ghost, so it barely counts. Now, Mommy has to feed him so he can go back to sleep. How about you go pick a movie for tonight?"

Jazz nods. She takes that job very seriously. There's a science to picking movies.

She heads off, and Maddie looks at Danny's sniffling little face. His eyes are back too baby blue, but his hair isn't quite black yet.

At least he's still visible.

At least the side effects seem mild.

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

It's about 6 am when Jack bolts up too use the bathroom. On his way back, he decides to check on the kids.

Jazz is asleep, cuddling a stuffed animal. Jack smiles.

Danny is also asleep, wrapped up in a cute little onesie and floating above the bassinet FLOATING ABOVE THE BASSINET?!?!

Jack runs over and grabs Danny from the air, pulling out a Fenton Ghost-Whapping Baton!

And then he looks at Danny, who's whining, and sees sleepy glowing green eyes looking at him.

"Oh. Um, sorry, son." He puts away the baton. "I thought a ghost was stealing you."

Danny yawns. Jack sees a cold breath puff out of his son's mouth, despite the room being temperature-controlled to keep him toasty during the nights.

Jack puts Danny back into the bassinet. He leaves, and comes back a little bit later with some equipment.

He sets up a rudimentary ghost-shield to keep Danny from floating away during the night, but won't trap him. He can still float a little, if need be.

"The scariest ghost we've faced yet," Jack mumbles. He kisses Danny's forehead, and sits there until Danny falls asleep. By then, Danny is human again.

Jack leaves, and in the morning he and Maddie begin working on some upgrades for Danny's room.

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

Danny babbles happily as Jazz plays peek-a-boo with him.

"Boo!"

Laughter.

"Boo!"

More laughter!

"A-boo! A-boo!" Jazz can't stop grinning. She's a great older sister! Look at her go!

She takes Danny's hands, and moves them over his face. "Now, where's Danny? ... Here he is! Oh."

Danny isn't there. But his clothes are, and something's inside of them. And Jazz is still holding two chubby baby arms, even if they're cold and invisible.

Jazz stares for a second, and then speaks. "... Peek-a-boo?"

Danny reappears, and squeals with laughter!

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

Maddie sits down to give Danny his bottle. She's brought him out shopping with her so she can grab some replacement parts that fried in their latest invention, the Fenton Ecto-Extractor!

Jazz had thrown a fit when she'd heard the name, and it startled Jack so bad he'd turned it on too early and it completely collapsed on itself! It took half an hour to convince Jazz that they weren't trying to use it to make Danny normal, just using it for themselves now that they know it can cause... strange things, to happen.

Danny drinks the bottle with no issue, and burps as soon as she starts his back. Really, he's a pretty easy baby. Except for the ghost part.

Maddie is getting him back in the stroller when Danny's face screws up. She watches a cold, visible breath leave his mouth, and then he starts to scream. Sobbing, wailing baby screams, attracting the concerned and/or annoyed attention of most people around them.

"He's just tired," she assures loudly. His breath is still puff out in cold clouds, even though it's perfectly warm in the mall.

Maddie quickly picks him back up and hugs him, bouching and singing to try and calm him down.

Danny starts to quiet down. She puts him back in the stroller, but as soon as she does (as soon as he looks behind her with those bright, bright green eyes) he starts crying again.

She sighs and picks him up, hurrying back to the car. She'll just come back for the parts later. Clearly, something is upsetting him.

Something that she just can't see.

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

Jazz leans away from Danny, grinning. "There!"

Danny is propped up on her bed. Maddie and Jack needed to quickly decontaminate themselves, and so Jazz had to watch Danny for just a minute.

And in that minute, she's does some redesigning.

Danny's fluffy white hair has a little bow in it, and she's put some of her kiddie makeup on him.

Danny disappears for a second, and the bow falls. When he reappears, it's not on his head anymore. He looks at Jazz blankly.

Jazz crosses her arms. "No fair! I was making you pretty!"

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

Maddie stumbles into Danny's room. She flicks on the light, and turns off the Fenton Ghost-Shielding Hanging Mobile. She reaches in and pulls the crying Danny out of the bassinet, shushing and rocking him.

Danny's eyes are bright green again, and Maddie can see his breath. "Oh, you always get so worked up when this happens," she says softly. "Is the cold upsetting you?"

Danny doesn't answer, just cries more.

Maddie takes him to her and Jack's room, and lays down with him on her chest. Jack rolls over in his sleep and puts his arms around her, cradling both of them.

Danny falls back asleep soon, and Maddie sighs. She can still see his breath, but at least he's calm now.

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

Jazz holds up her drawing, and shakes her head. She goes back to scribbling, and moves closer to Danny. "This is black," she says to him, pointing at the crayon she's using. She picks up another color. "And this one is red."

Danny stares as Jazz keeps scribbling. Jazz assumes that means he's learning.

"I'm going to let Mom and Dad know I saw this in my closet," she says seriously. "I think people know you're special and want to steal you!"

Danny blows a spit bubble by accident, and laughs when it pops.

Jazz's eyes hold more determination than ever. She scribbles with the fury of a million warriors. "You're very valuable." She learned that word yesterday. "So you need lots of protecting."

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

"Do you think this will make her feel better?" Maddie asks as she closes the panel.

Jack lifts his soldering mask and nods. "If one thing can make a person feel safe, it's fifty anti-ghost devices hidden in their walls!"

"I just worry about that doodle. What if something really got in?"

"Mads, you personally handcrafted every single sensor put up in the kids's rooms! If a ghost had gotten in, we'd know! To get past then they'd need deep knowledge of exactly how our deigns work and how they detect ghost energy, and no ghost has that!"

"You're right, you're right. Still, I hate to think she might be having nightmares about something like that. It looked like it had devil horns."

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

"Peek-a-boo!" Jazz grins at Danny. "Peek-a-boo!"

It never gets old for him! No matter how many times they play, Danny loves it!

"Peek... a-boo!" Jazz does little jazz-hands.

Danny disappears, and Jazz grins. "Where's Danny? Where'd he go?"

Danny reappears, and-

"B-b-boo!"

Jack and Maddie dart into the room! Maddie swoops Danny up, eyes wide!

Danny giggles, and says it again. "Boo!"

Maddie and Jackie both tear up. In unison they shout, "HIS FIRST WORD!"

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

Danny gnaws on the toy with his little baby gums.

"I can't believe it. Already teething," Maddie sighs, holding him. "Seems like only yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital."

Jack wipes his eyes. "He's growing into a young man already."

"Oh, Jack, stop it, he's not nearly a young man."

"But he will be before we know it!"

Maddie pats her husband on the back comfortingly as he begins to blubber.

Maddie closes her eyes, thinking about those early months with Danny, figuring out how to prepare for his floating and invisibility, learning to not panic when his eyes and hair changed color, learning that sometimes when they do his clothes change color as well...

She's startled out of her thought by something warm and wet on her lap.

She looks down to see the teething toy on her thigh... and a whole lot of nothing where Danny's head should be.

Then it' back when she blinks, and he's beginning to whine for his toy.

She quickly picks him up off her laps and retrieves it, giving it back to him.

So... the ghost abilities are still developing, then. She'll have to let Jack know about this later.

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

"Daniel Fenton," Jack says, the most serious Jazz has ever seen him, "You're in big trouble this time, mister. I don't know how you did this-"

Jack shakes the empty tube of baby snacks, safe for teething babies.

"But I will get to the bottom of it!"

"Look like he already did," Maddie jokes, setting Jazz's breakfast down for her.

Jazz laughs, because it sounds like a Smart Adult Joke and she thinks those are funny, even when she doesn't understand them.

Danny babbles, smacking his chair's food tray.

"Oh no you don't, mister! You're getting regular baby food this morning and that's all!" Jack grabs the jar of food, and holds up the spoon. "Now, here comes the Fenton Ghost-Tracking Copter!"

He puts the spoon up to Danny's mouth-

-and right through his head.

He gasps and pulls back, and Danny's head reappears. He babbles, smacking the tray again.

Maddie drops her fork. "I can't believe I forgot! That's what I was going to tell you about!"

Jazz looks at her parents. "You didn't know he does this?"

They both gawk at her. "You did?!"

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

Danny reaches up and grabs Jazz's nose. Jazz wrinkles it, and he laughs.

Jazz sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, and Danny laughs even harder!

Jazz looks at her parents as they finish setting up the picnic blanket. "I'm the funniest big sister ever!"

"You sure are, sweetie!" Maddie scoops Jazz up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "You get it from me."

Jack laughs. "It's true! Your mother could get the whole Ghost Hunting Club laughing out HAZMAT suits off all day long back in the day! ... 'Course it was just the three of us, but still, three's a crowd!"

"May as well have been doing stand-up," Maddie says, setting Jazz down on the blanket.

They enjoy the little outing, the sun shining but not beating down, the cool breeze just enough to crispen the air but not freeze.

And then Jazz looks at Danny. She sees glowing eyes, and a puff of breath come out of his mouth. "Uh-oh. Mommy! He's gonna cry!"

Maddie picks Danny up right as he starts to wail. She hugs him, and is shocked. He doesn't feel cold this time!

Is he just cold inside?

Or is there some other problem?

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

Jack rubs his ears. "That child wails like a Banshee!"

"He could very well be doing exactly that," Maddie points out. "We still don't know what other abilities he'll develop as he ages!"

"Or how well he'll be able to control them. ... Mads... should we homeschool him?"

"It's a little early to worry about that, Jack."

"I know that tone, you're worrying about it too."

"... We can't just keep him isolated from the rest of the world, Jack. It'll be unhealthy for him. And what if it makes him lean into his ghost side too much?"

"So you think we should let him go to school."

"Yes. ... But not pre-school. We'll teach him to not use his abilities around other kids, and then send him to Kindergarten."

"... Alright, Mads. If you think that's what's best, then that's what's best!"

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

"Come on, that's it! Yes, yes, WHOO!" Maddie picks Danny up as soon as he walks over. "Who's a strong little Fenton? Who's the best little boy at walking in the whole wide world?"

"Danny!" Jazz cheers from the couch.

"Danny!" Maddie and Jack both cheer at once.

Danny laughs and squeals, kicking his legs and flapping his arms. His first proper Walk! Not just a step or two and then crawling, that was real walking!

Jack takes Danny, holding him aloft. "You're a real butt-kicker in the making, son! You'll be as strong as your old man someda-"

Jack feels something bump him, hard.

He shouts as he goes down! Danny going with him!

But as Jack meets the floor, he feels Danny's weight disappear from his hands!

He lands with an "oof", and looks up to see Danny floating above him, surrounded by a faint white aura. Danny looks down and babbles, sucking his thumb. Then... he moves.

He's only ever floated in place before. But as he looks down at his dad, he kicks his little legs and moves! Moving right across the room!

And then he looks behind his dad, and his breath comes out in puffs. He starts crying and wailing hysterically.

Jazz peers at where Danny is looking. "Mommy, hit the air with the stick!"

Maddie gently grabs Danny. "Why, sweetie?"

"Danny is scared! So we have to protect him!"

Maddie grabs her Fenton Baton, and gives the area Danny was looking at a good thwack. She expects it to go right through the empty air.

Instead there's a loud zap! There's a cry of pain! And then a semi-transparent form zooming out of their house!

Maddie's jaw drops. Jack scrambles to his feet and grabs every ghost weapon in radius, forming a protective circle around the family with them!

Maddie looks at Danny, who's now calm.

And his breath isn't visible.

Hmm...

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

"We're just seeing if my hypothesis is right," Maddie assures.

Jazz sobs, clinging onto her leg. "NOOOO! HE'LL GET HURT! OR STOLED!"

"Stolen, sweetie. And Mommy and Daddy would never let that happen."

Jazz scream-sobs again.

"What if we can promise you the ghost will be in a big, big box?"

Jazz looks at her mom with watery eyes. "Like around Danny's crib?"

"Yes, like that."

"But-but he's so little."

"It'll just be a second, sweetheart."

Jazz sniffles again. "... Can I hold the stick?"

Maddie smiles softly. "Yes, sweetie, you can hold the stick."

A couple hours later, Jack and Maddie return home with a ghost in a box. It's yelling something, but the box is soundproof.

Jack sets the box down, and goes to grab Danny. He comes back, and holds Danny firmly while walking towards the ghost. Danny's eyes are covered by a too-big hood on his little shirt. He can't see, or hear, that there's a ghost nearby.

Danny's breath comes out a visible puff about two feet away from the ghost, and he starts crying. Jack steps back a ways, and Danny's breaths become normal again. He settles down.

Jack walks closer. Puff of breath, and crying.

Jack steps back. Normal breath, calm Danny.

"He can sense ghost's," Maddie says, looking in awe at her baby boy. Her face breaks into a grin. "He's his own portable ghost detector! He'll never be caught unawares, he'll be able to always defend himself!"

She runs up to Jack and hugs them both, kissing Danny's little forehead. Danny babbles.

"He'll never be caught unawares," Maddie says again in relief. "Oh, this makes me feel so much better."

"Mommy? ... Does that mean we're haunted all the time?"

Maddie's relief hardens and breaks in her chest.

All those times Danny's Ghost Sense has gone off inside! All those times!

She pulls away. "Jack, we're upping our security!"

Jack nods. "Time for FentonWorks 2.0!"

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

Danny giggles as his dad chases him around the house. He phases through doors and turns invisible in hiding places, always giving himself away with laughter.

Jack grabs Danny just before he phases through the next door. “Gotcha!”

Danny laughs, happy little kid squeals that you can hear through the whole house. Jack puts Danny on his shoulders and heads into the kitchen. “He’s getting pretty good at running! Say, whatcha making, Mads?”

“Meatloaf. Would you mind helping?”

Jack sets Danny down at the table and helps Maddie make dinner, while Danny eyes something on the counter.

“Cookie.”

Maddie looks over. Danny is staring at the cookie jar. “No sweetie, no cookies yet.”

“Cookie!”

“Not yet.”

Danny starts to cry. “Cookie!”

Maddie walks over, and gives Danny his binkie. Danny refuses it af first, but once he has it he calms down fast.

He looks at the cookie jar still, though.

And, slowly, he lifts out of his chair. He kicks his little legs, pushing himself forward. He plops down on the counter, and reaches into the jar with an intangible hand.

He pulls out not one, but two cookies!

He gets so excited that he starts waving his arms, making happy noises.

Jack looks over. “What? Maddie, he’s gotten into the cookie jar!”

“I’ve got it!” Maddie walks over and scoops Danny up in his old Anti-Ghost-Phasing Blanket. Soft, warm, and totally ghost-proof.

Danny whines. “Cookie!”

“I said not yet, honey.” Maddie grabs the cookies and puts them on the counter. She safety pins the blanket around Danny like a little cape, except it takes away his powers.

Danny sits in his chair, throwing a fit! But to no avail. Eventually he just sits there, tear-faced and angry.

And then Jazz walks in. She looks over at the cookies, and then at Danny.

She walks over and snatches them off the counter as quick as she can! She casually walks over to the table, and hands them to Danny.

Danny brightens up. He shoves one cookie in his mouth, and gives the other back to Jazz. His original intention.

Jazz smiles, and scarfs the cookie down just before Maddie turns around.

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

“Why?” Danny looks at his mom with wide, innocent eyes.

Maddie’s heart aches. “People might get scared.”

Danny frowns. “Scawy?”

“No, no, you aren’t scary. But the... idea of ghosts, for a lot of people, can be scary.”

Danny thinks, and then walks over to the fridge. “Scawy.”

Maddie looks at the drawing Danny is pointing at. It’s Jazz’s drawing of The Ghost.

The one that’s been haunting them for months.

Black horns, it looks like. Red eyes. Deathly blue skin. It makes Maddie shiver, knowing it had direct access to her children for so long.

Danny starts to cry. “I scawy!”

Maddie scoops him up. “No, no sweetie! You are nothing like that monster, nothing like it at all! And you never will be, I promise!” Maddie hugs him tightly. “Oh, my poor baby... how about we take a break? Do you want to help Jazz paint something?”

Danny sniffles, and nods. They head upstairs, leaving the talk for another day.

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

“Kindergarten, Jack,” Maddie says, packing the little lunch box. “He’s already in Kindergarten!”

Jack is already openly sobbing as he makes Jazz a sandwich.

“Do you think he understands what he needs to do?” Maddie asks no-one in particular, just worrying.

“He understands perfectly!”

Maddie jumps a little, and turns around to see Jazz smiling proudly. Danny stands right next to her, a shyer smile on his face. Maddie tears up at the sight of him with his little backpack and school outfit on.

Jazz looks at Danny. “Go ahead! Show them what we practiced!”

Danny puffs out his chest to look strong. “I won’t go through anything, turn invi-invisi- um, turn not-seeing-me, I won’t fly, and, um... and if I feel another ghost, I’ll use this!” He pulls his little Fenton Emergency Pager out of his pocket.

Maddie wipes her eyes. “Perfect, honey,” she says, letting the pride seep into her voice. “Oh, my baby boy! Growing up so fast!” She picks him up and kisses his face. Danny wraps his arms around her neck.

“Do I have to go, mommy? They’ll think I’m scary.”

“Oh, honey. You aren’t scary, I promise.”

“... What if I need to be scary?”

“Mommy will come be scary for you.”

“She very good at it,” Jack chimes in, shivering a little as he remembers the time a ghost attacked while Maddie was buying Danny’s first pair of little shoes. By the time it was over, Jack almost pitied the thing.

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

Maddie gives Danny one last hug. “Remember, calls u anytime you need us, okay?”

He nods. “I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Jazz.”

“You’re just going to school, not saying bye forever.” Even as Jazz says it, her lip wobbles and her voice cracks.

Danny floats up to the car window give her a hug, before being quickly held up by Maddie to cover the power use.

“That’s the only time today you’ll do that,” she reminds him.

Danny nods.

Eventually... the goodbyes are done being dragged out. Danny’s family drives away as the teacher leads him inside.

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

Danny sits on a swing by himself, not sure what to do.

Usually at home he plays using his powers. He doesn’t know how to be good at tag without making it so people can’t touch him, or how to play hide-and-seek without turning invisible.

He kicks the sand. This is stupid. He misses Jazz. He can play with her.

“Hi.”

Danny looks up. Another young boy is standing in front of him, holding some kind of electronic. The boy holds out his hand. “I’m Tucker.”

Danny shakes his hand, focusing very hard on keeping it a real hand. “I’m Danny.”

Tucker shows him the electronic. “Want to play my game?"

Danny looks at it. It’s a coloring game. He nods.

They pass it back and forth between each other for a while, both coloring in different parts of the same picture.

Eventually it’s time to back in. Danny and Tucker ask if they can sit closer together.

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

“So, how was it?” Maddie asks, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she picks Danny up. “Have fun?”

“I made a friend!” Danny yells! “His name is Tucker and he’s really nice!”

Maddie relaxes. “Oh? How did you meet?”

“He let me play his coloring game!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“We made a tower out of blocks and it was the strongest ever! And I never used my powers!”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”

Maybe Maddie can stop worrying now. ... Probably not.

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

“What if we gave it big scary horns?” Danny says as he doodled something in crayon. “Like the thing that watches my window.”

Tucker looks at him with wide eyes. “A monster watches you?”

“My parents don’t let it touch me. They hunt ghosts.”

“Oh. Do you hunt ghosts?”

Danny shakes his head. “I’m too little.”

“Oh. Me too.”

“You should give it bat wings.”

They both look up. The quiet girl who usually sits in the back is standing in front of them, her hair pulled back in a tight black braid and her clothes perfectly pressed.

Danny looks at the drawing, and nods. He adds the wings. “We’re drawing the monster from that story we heard today.”

The girl sits down. “I bet it had claws. And could breathe black fire!”

Danny adds them on. “You’re really smart!”

The girl nods. “I am.”

“I’m Danny.”

“I’m Tucker!”

The girl grins. “I’m Samatha.”

“Wow... that’s a long name,” Danny says, eyes wide. “My sister has a long name too. Do all girls have long names?”

Samantha thinks. “I dunno. I haven’t met all girls.”

“Oh. We don’t know all boys, either.”

They spend the rest of free time coloring. Once it’s over, Samantha moves to sit with them.

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

“So, how was today, sweetie?”

“I made another friend! She’s really good, and her parents make her have long hair but she wants it short, and we made this with her!” He shows Maddie the drawing.

Maddie grimaces a little, but turns it into a smile. “It’s lovely, dear. Looks... a little like Jazz’s picture.”

Danny nods.”The monster in the story lived in the window. So does this ghost.”

“... What?”

“He lives by my window. But he can’t come inside, so I make faces at him and make him mad.”

Maddie speeds up a little. “Danny, we’re going to be altering your windows when we get home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

Danny leads Sam and Tucker to his room with his tiny arms full of snacks. He brings them inside, and proudly stands in the middle. “This is my room!”

"Cool!” Tucker exclaims. “Whoa, you have a computer?”

Danny shakes his head. “That’s to keep ghosts out. Ghosts hate us.”

“You’ve seen some?” Samantha asks, eyes wide.

Danny grins. “So many!”

“Can we see some?”

“Sure, I can even-”

They hear a gasp in the doorway. Turning to look, they see Jazz. “Danny, you didn’t let me meet your friends!”

Danny looks horrified. “Oh no!” He runs over and pulls Jazz into the room. “This is my big sister Jazz! She’s the coolest big sister!”

“I’m Tucker!”

“I’m Sam!”

Jazz grins. “Guess what I learned yesterday?” She points out of the room. “How to use the remote!”

The trio of toddler’s eyes sparkle. They cheer for Jazz as all of them descend, ready to Take Control Of The TV!

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

“-and this is The Box Ghost,” Danny says, showing his friends the doodle him and Jazz made at home. “He’s silly. He wants to be scary, but he isn’t.”

Tucker and Samantha nods like it the most important thing they’ll ever learn.

Danny pulls out the next drawing. “This is Scary, the ghost from my window.” It’s a new drawing, a little more detailed thanks to Jazz being better at drawing now. And Danny having seen the face so, so many times. “I don’t see him anymore. Mom and Dad kicked him out of the window.”

“He’s ugly,” Samantha says, wrinkling her nose.

“He looks stinky,” Tucker agrees.

Danny looks over at the window. “Shhhh! He’s here!”

Tucker and Samantha look at the window. They see nothing.

They look back at Danny. They see little puffs coming out of his mouth, and his eyes are the wrong color.

Danny pulls his pager out. “It’s okay. Mommy will come scare him away.”

“We can’t see him,” Samantha says.

Danny nods. “He’s hard to see.”

“Do you have to have glowy eyes like yours?” Tucker asks. “I have to have glasses. Are your eyes like Ghost Glasses?”

Danny thinks, and then nods. “I guess so. ... OH NO!” He covers his eyes. “You aren’t supposed to see that!”

“Why not?”

“Mommy said it’s a secret! You’ll think I’m scary!”

“But it’s not scary.”

Danny tilts his head, still covering his eyes. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s cool!”

He slowly uncovers his eyes. “... Do... you think this is scary?” He holds out his arm, and makes it invisible.

Tucker and Samantha gasp! Danny pulls his arm back, about to cry. They think he’s scary, they won’t be his friends anymore-

“That’s so cool,” Samantha says.

“I wanna do that!” Tucker exclaims.

Danny can’t believe it for a second. And then he grins. “I can do more stuff too! I’ll show you at my house!”

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

Maddie paces the floor while Danny sits on the couch, his little face burning with shame.

Jazz sits next to him, arms crossed. Jack stands in front of him, Maddie pacing beside her husband.

“You told your friends?” Maddie asks again.

Danny nods, keeping his head low. “I didn’t mean to. I saw Scary, and my eyes turned green, and I can’t fix that.”

Maddie sighs. “I know, sweetie, but you showed them more after! We caught you flying them around your room! How can you even carry both of them at once?!”

“It’s easy when I’m a ghost,” he says, still keeping his head low. “Everything’s easy when I’m a ghost.”

Maddie stops pacing. “Oh, sweetie... I know it must be strange for you to suddenly have to hide it.”

Danny nods. He sniffles a little.

“It’s for your own safety, son,” Jack says. “You understand that, right? We just want you to be safe.”

“Other kids can be mean, Danny,” Jazz says. “I’m smart, and some kids are mean to me for that.”

“But Samantha and Tucker aren’t mean!”

“No, they aren’t,” Maddie concedes. “... I guess what’s done is done. Danny?” She kneels down in front of him and gently lifts his head up, wiping his tears away. “We aren’t mad. We’re worried. They’re your friends, but they also don’t understand this the way we do.”

“... Can you make them understand?”

Maddie nods. “We’ll absolutely have a talk with them. You can go get them from your room right now, even. But Danny? No-one else. Okay? These two kids are the only kids you will ever tell. Promise?”

Danny nods, still sniffling. “Promise.”

Maddie puts on her HAZMAT glove and holds out her pinkie. “Fenton promise?”

Danny links her pinkie with his, letting it go ghostly. “Fenton promise, Mommy.”

“Okay. You can send your friends down now.”

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

Danny waits for his mom to come pick him up, Samantha and Tucker sitting next to him.

Samantha looks up suddenly. “I don’t like my name.”

Danny and Tucker look at her.

She stands up. “From now on, my name is... is Sam!”

Danny and Tucker clap, because they learned that’s the polite thing to do when someone has a dramatic moment like this. They learned it from watching the older kids do a play.

Sam sits back down. “I’m Sam,” she says happily. “Sam.”

“Sam is a good name,” Danny says.

“Easier to write,” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam is very proud of her new name.

They wait a bit longer, and a long black car pulls up. Sam stands up, but her parents don’t step out.

A tall, white-haired man does, one none of them have ever met before. He smiles down at them. “Hello, Danny. Hello, Danny’s friends.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Danny’s parents,” he says, giving a slight bow (or maybe just bending over to hear them better since they’re so much shorter than him).

“I don’t know you,” Danny says, accusatory. “Mrs. Emma told us about people like you!”

The Man shakes his head. “I’m not a stranger, I promise. Your parents and I are very close.”

“I don’t know you,” Danny says again. He steps between The Man and his friends. “I’m gonna tell Mrs. Emma on you.”

“Danny, really, your mother called and asked me to pick you up.”

“You liar! She always picks me up!”

“She’s fighting a ghost right now.”

“She leaves fights to come get me!”

The Man sighs. He grabs Danny’s arm. “Stubborn like your parents. Come on, I promise you’ll be fine.”

“NO!” Danny yanks his arm, trying to get away. “LET GO OF ME!”

“Stop making a scene!”

“LET GO! YOU-”

Danny gaps, a puff of breath coming out and his eyes turning green.

“S-Scary,” he whimpers. “SCARY! MOMMY! MOMMMYYYY! SCARY HAS ME!!! HELP!!!”

Danny yanks again, Tucker and Sam finally running inside to get Mrs. Emma!

The Man scowls. “I’m trying to help you, little badger!”

“YOU’RE THE SCARY IN THE WINDOW!” Danny looks at him with bright eyes, tearful and afraid. “GET AWAY!!!”

Danny’s little hand glows green, and suddenly The Man is clutching his stomach instead of Danny’s arm. Danny runs inside, right into Mrs. Emma’s arms. He sobs to her as she frantically calls the police, trying to read the plate of the car speeding off into the distance.

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

Maddie hands Jazz a Baton. “This is in case this ‘Scary’ come after you,” Maddie says, still shaking a bit. “Okay?”

Jazz nods.

“Danny, this is for you.” Maddie hands him a black-and-white suit. “This is to keep other ghosts from sensing you, okay? So wear it under your clothes.”

Danny nods, still crying.

Maddie looks at Sam and Tucker. Their parents were late picking them up, but with the attempted kidnapping it was decided that they’ll stay with The Fentons for a few hours until their parents could get them.

“You two get these.” She hands them Fenton Pagers, and Fenton Fun-Sized Ghost Stunners. “They can hurt people too, so only use them on ghosts. Or if someone tries to do... what you saw today, ever again.”

Sam and Tucker nod.

“And Danny? From now on, wait with Mrs. Emma until we come inside to get you.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“And when I get my hands on this ‘Scary’, I promise you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

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

Danny looks around to see if anyone is watching. He, Tucker, and Sam are crouched under a desk in the classroom while everyone else is out at recess.

He holds out his hand to the stack of paper, and closes his eyes. For a second, nothing happens.

And then it glows green, and a small beam shoots from his hand! Tucker and Sam gasp!

“You’re like a superhero!” Tucker exclaims, standing up.

“A ghost superhero!” Sam says, standing up too. “You need a superhero name!”

Danny shoots up, smiling widely. “What should it be?”

They all think for a long, long time.

Sam perks up. “I know!”

She grabs a book from the corner. The book is a Halloween one, mostly for pictures with just a few words. She flips to a page, and points to it. “This word! It means Ghost!”

Danny and Tucker peer at it. “How do you say it?” Tucker asks.

Sam grins. “Phantom!”

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

“Phantom?” Maddie says, looking at the doodle.

Jack nods. “Apparently Sam came up with it! Our boy wants to be a ghost hunter after all!”

“Superhero, this says.”

“Same thing!”

“Jack, what’re you making there?”

Jack holds up the suit, one of the prototype Anti-Ghost-Detection suits for Danny. “I got out my old needlepointing stuff and am making him a superhero costume! See, it’s a P!”

Maddie squints, trying to get a better look at the outline. “It looks like a D.”

Jack looks at it. “Hmm. I guess from some angles. But it’s a P! Or, DP! Danny Phantom!”

Maddie’s expression goes soft. “Awww! Okay, you keep making that, and I’ll hang this doodle on the fridge! But no actual ghost fighting until he’s at least fourteen, right?”

“Absolutely!”

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

Danny steps into the school “Halloween Party” with his hands on his hips and a bright grin, looking like a mini-version of his dad behind him.

“Aww, and what are you dressed as, Danny?” Mrs. Emma asks.

“A superhero ghosthunter!” Danny says proudly. “My parents made this for me!”

“It’s great,” Mrs. Emma says genuinely. “Alright, go mingle! We’re going to make paper jack-o-lanterns later so now is the time to trade candies!”

Danny walks over to his friends, still striking the pose. Tucker, dressed as a robot made out of cardboard boxes, pouts in slight jealousy as Danny comes over. Sam, dressed as a vampire, grins. “P for Phantom!” she yells.

Danny runs over faster. “Yeah! My dad put the logo on!” He shows it off proudly. “I’m gonna be the best ghosthunter ever!”

“You can work from the inside!” Tucker says, getting over his jealousy thankfully quick. “Make them think you wanna haunt stuff too!”

“Yeah!” Danny strikes another pose. “But I’m actually going to catch them all, because I’m Danny Phantom!”

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

Danny and Jazz are playing with dolls in the living room. “Pow! Take that!” Danny shouts, making his doll punch Jazz’s.

“Nooo!” Jazz cries out in a husky voice. “But how? I’m The Scary! Nothing can not fear me!”

“I don’t fear you!” Danny waves the hand of his doll, making laser noises. Jazz shakes her doll around, making dying noises. “I’m Danny Phantom, the strongest ghost boy ever!”

“Nooooo!”

Maddie chuckles, watching them. “That Scary better watch out for more than just us.”

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

“Where are we going?” Danny asks again.

“It’s a surprise!” Jack says again, still as excited as when the road trip started.

Danny huffs, looking out the window again. “Why couldn’t Sam and Tucker come?”

“Because they’re spending Summer visiting their families,” Maddie says. “And so are we, sort of.”

“I though Auntie lived in Spittoon,” Jazz says.

“She does! This is different.”

After hours (years in the minds of the kids), they pull up to a mansion. All fo the boredom washes away instantly, Jazz and Danny cramming into the window to see it!

“Are we rich?” Jazz demands to know.

“We’re well-off, but not quite. Welcome to your honorary Uncle Vlad’s house!” Maddie cheers.

“Vlad was out best friend in college!” Jack says, grinning. “He got back in contact with us a few years ago and we’ve been thick as thieves since! He asked us too come over this weekend, and we thought we’d surprise him and let him meet your two at the same time!”

Danny and Jazz cheer! THEY GET TO STAY IN A MANSION!

The family piles out of the car, and stand in front of the door! Maddie and Jack make sure Jazz and Danny look extra nice, and ring the doorbell!

It takes a long minute, so they ring it again!

Finally, a man opens it up! “Oh, Maddie, Jack, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear-”

Danny shrieks. His eyes are glowing bright as they can, his breaths giant puffs! He holds up his hand and send a little beam right into Vlad’s side!

Vlad falls back with an “Oof!”

“Danny!” Maddie scoops him up. “What on earth has gotten into you? Oh, Danny!”

Danny is sobbing pointing at Vlad. “It-it’s him! The-The Scary! He-he tried to take me!”

Maddie and Jack freeze. Slowly, they both look at Vlad. Jazz pulls out her Baton.

“Vlad?” Maddie says coldly.

“Didn’t I only invite you two?” Vlad wheezes.

Jack points a ghost detector at Vlad. It goes off.

“Now, now, I can explai- AGCK!”

Jazz starts happening him with the Baton before he can finish his sentence. Maddie hands Danny to Jack. “Sweetie, close the door and take Danny back to the truck. I need to have a word with Vlad.”

Jack does as told, holding Danny in his lap and soothing him.

“He-he tried to take me,” Danny sobs again.

“Don’t worry, son.” Jack hugs him tightly. “No-one’s ever going to be able to do that. We’ll always keep you safe. We promise.”

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

“And what do we always wear while testing new devices?” Maddie asks, handing Danny a Fenton Ghost-Zapper that would use Danny’s own ghost energy to work.

Danny grins, and puts it on. “Face mask!”

“Because?”

“Because lab safety is very important!”

Maddie grins. “That’s right! And who do we thank for reminding us of that every time we’re in the lab?”

Danny points. “Jazz! Thank you, Jazz!”

Jazz grins proudly.

#danny phantom #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #kidnapping tw #attempted kidnapping #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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thighs-of-betrayal-blog · 3 years

Note

hi! im not sure if your requests are open (if they're not, you can just ignore!) but i'd like to req a bucky x reader angst to fluff/comfort or just pure angst following the civil war movie where the two had some sort of romantic relationship going on until reader finds out what he and steve did to tony, whom she considers a father figure? its up to you how it ends! ^^

The Remnants of Us

A/N: This was such an amazing idea! Civil War was rough for me, since Bucky and Tony are two of my favorite characters. I definitely support both of them though lol. But, thank you so much for this request! :)

I hope you all enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, violence, cursing

The harsh cold of Siberia has you wrapping your arms around yourself, aggressively rubbing your hands down your arms.

“You okay over there, doll?” Bucky asks, concern evident on his face.

Oh yeah, just fine. Not freezing my ass off or anything.

“Fucking super soldiers,” you mutter, walking faster to keep pace with Bucky and Steve.

“What was that, Y/N?” Steve asks, slowing down to match stride with you.

You fake a smile. “Nothing. Let’s just hurry up and get inside.”

Bucky curses before walking back towards you and pulling you into his side. “Fucking hell, doll, you’re freezing… I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed earlier.”

“It’s okay.” You wrap your arm around his waist. “You have a lot on your mind.”

And a lot of people trying to take him in.

You won’t let anything happen to him though. Nobody is taking him away from you again.

Once you finally make it inside, you almost moan at the sudden rush of warmth. There’s a coldness still lingering in the air, but nothing like before.

“C’mon.” Bucky guides you towards another room. “Time to go searching.”

---

You wish you had stayed back. Or maybe, you’re relieved you came, since you would’ve found out eventually. Better now than later.

The other Winter Soldiers have been murdered. Zemo’s out for revenge. And Bucky? Well-

You watch Tony as the devastation crosses over his face, your own heart breaking at the sight.

Ever since you’ve joined the Avengers, Tony’s been your rock. The father you’ve never really had.

The two of you are inseparable and most days, one can find you down in his lab, helping him work on a new feature for your suit.

When you’re on missions, Tony looks out for you like a hawk, his overprotectiveness taking over as he worries for your life.

And now…

You watch the video of Barnes murdering Tony’s parents. You want to laugh at the irony. The love of your life against your figurative father. But instead, you find yourself crying, angry that the world can be this cruel.

Bucky’s stare burns into you. He knows how much Tony means to you and he’s desperately trying to plead with his eyes, but you won’t spare him a glance.

You keep your gaze on Tony, who’s crumbling by the second. You expect him to lunge at Barnes, but you’re surprised when he decides to simply look over at Steve.

“Did you know?” Tony’s voice is cold as he addresses Steve.

Steve looks down quickly and it’s then that you know his answer. He doesn’t even have to say it.

“I knew it was Hydra… I didn’t know it was Barnes specifically though.”

Tony stares at Steve for a minute, scrutinizing him intensely. “You’re lying.”

Steve looks over at you and you can see the desperation in his eyes. The regret. “I may have put two and two together.”

“And, you didn’t think to tell me?!” Tony screams. “So much for being a team!”

He then whirls around to look at Barnes, pointing his finger at him. “And you!”

Striding towards him, Tony uses one of his hands to send a blast Bucky’s way. “You murdered my parents!”

Bucky flies into the wall, his body collapsing on the ground.

“Bucky!” You yell. You might be upset, but you don’t want Bucky to get hurt. You don’t want any of them to get hurt.

Steve runs in to protect Bucky, throwing his shield at Tony. As you watch Tony slam into the opposite wall, you start to panic.

“Stop!” You scream, getting in between the three men. They listen to you, each of them staring at you in shock.

Looking over at Steve, you sigh and gesture towards Bucky. “Get him out of here.”

Bucky steps forward, his heart breaking at your dismissal. “Y/N-”

“I said go!”

You turn around to face Tony, not entirely sure if you can handle watching Bucky leave.

Once they’re gone, Tony opens up his arms. You run into them, instantly resting your head against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

He doesn’t answer, but as he starts to run his hand up and down your back, you know he doesn’t blame you. For anything. Not even for loving Bucky.

---

Weeks go by. Weeks of not seeing Bucky and missing him every second.

Well, not anymore.

After getting in contact with Steve, you got the location of where they’re hiding out. Wakanda.

And now you’re here, ready to forgive, just like Tony has.

“Y/N?” The shattered voice of Bucky makes you jump.

He walks closer to you, his shoulders slumped forward. “Sorry, doll… I mean. Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Looking at him, you notice his disheveled appearance. He hasn’t shaved since you last saw him, you can tell by the hair growing along his jaw.

“Buck.” His name comes out as a whisper, almost a sigh of relief from your lips.

In an instant, you’re on him, wrapping your arms around his neck like your life depends on it.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you bury your face into his neck. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lifting your head up, you grab his face in your hands. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like it was.”

Bucky sighs before pulling you back into his chest, his head resting on top of yours. “I’d understand if you thought it was. What I did to Tony’s parents...”

You can hear the shaking of his voice. He’s on the verge of tears himself.

“That was out of your control, Bucky. All of it was.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

Pulling away, you look up at him. “It is that way. You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes. The best man… My man.”

The tears fall freely down his face now and he manages to give you a small smile. “I love you so fucking much, doll. You’re my slice of heaven in this fucked up world. I need you to know that.”

“I love you too. Always.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “Now, please kiss me. It’s been too long.”

Bucky grins. “Anything for you, doll.”

You sigh as his lips connect with yours, the feeling of two lost souls finally coming back together to reunite.

This is home.

506 notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

mission.

| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |

oh no, there’s only one bed trope

“James!” You screamed, your voice getting carried off in the wind. You kicked backwards, knocking free from the grip of a Hydra agent. You ducked as a bullet whizzed past your head, slicing through the skull of your enemy.

A hand wrapped around your arm and dragged you forward, forcing you to break into a run. Blinded by the storm, your lost your footing in the slick mud. If it wasn’t for Steve’s grip on you, you would’ve fell face first into the ground.

“Be careful!” The shout was stressed, impatient.

You swore and ran through the field after the soldiers, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. Your muscles were burning along with your lungs, and the rain was so thick you couldn’t see.

“We can’t drive in this!”

“We don’t have another option!” Steve shouted back, his grip on you tightening as he helped you onward.

The mission had gone to absolute shit before it even started. Stark sent you, Steve, and Bucky to hunt down a Hydra agent, which you’d just taken out in the field. However, he’d gotten wind of your arrival, prepared with an elite security team you had to get through. They had nearly succeeded in killing Bucky, throwing the three of you off from the beginning.

The storm had made everything nearly impossible, and it wrecked any chance of you getting home soon. No plane, not even one designed by Stark, could fly you overseas when you couldn’t see two feet ahead of you.

You couldn’t see Bucky, or Steve really, only knowing he was there by the hand on your arm. You trusted Bucky was nearby, making his way back to the car with you to try to get out of the middle of nowhere.

You were exhausted, hardly able to stand, let alone run through the storm, covered in heavy mud and gear. You finally made it to the car, your shaking hands coming into contact with cold steel.

The three of you managed to get inside the vehicle, though it didn’t feel like it was going to do any good. You were soaked from the rain and covered in mud and blood, and you were shivering from the icy temperature.

Bucky turned the key in the ignition, deciding that you needed to drive to shelter, even if he couldn’t see the road ahead.

“Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled as cold air blew directly on you from the AC, making you feel like you were going to freeze death.

“I’m fucking taking care of it, Y/N!” Bucky snapped back, raising his voice at you.

“Hey, that’s enough, Buck.” Steve interjected, despite being on edge himself. Bucky turned off the air, pulling out into the road and blindly inching back toward the small eastern-European town.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said through clenched teeth, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, we’re all just exhausted.”

You didn’t even realize you were clung to Steve until Bucky parked, somehow managing to get you three to a motel, alive. You muttered an apology, grabbing your backpack off the floor and running into the front office.

The desk manager eyed the three of you warily, and you sagged against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The floor felt like it was rocking under you, and you grabbed Steve’s arm to try to steady yourself. You were so cold, you felt like you were about to freeze to death.

Bucky started speaking to the main in fluent Russian, the conversation growing sharper and more annoyed as they argued. You didn’t understand what the problem was, and you started to cry, overly exhausted, dirty, and weak.

“Stevie,” Bucky whined at Steve to take care of you while he continued to deal with the manager.

“Y/N, take deep breaths,” Steve hugged your shivering body to his, and Bucky gestured at you and shouted at the manager.

He flashed his gun before he was finally given a room key, and he threw the door open, motioning the two of you to follow. Steve carried your backpack for you, gently pushing you after Bucky and praying you didn’t collapse.

Bucky unlocked a room, pushing you inside ahead of him, and you stared at the one bed. You were too tired to truly care, lethargy threatening to drag you under.

“It was all they had. He’d barely give me this last room.” Bucky’s tone was apologetic, albeit frustrated.

“It’s fine, one thing at a time,” Steve sighed, and you dropped to the floor, working your boots off.

“I need a minute, you can shower first,” you said hoarsely, and the boys nodded, Bucky tenderly touching your head as he walked to the small bathroom, tearing off his ruined clothes. He was quick, and Steve was in and out right after, both of them clean in under fifteen minutes. You sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath and drink the water bottle that Bucky had forced into your hand.

“Can you stand for a shower?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you off the floor. You grabbed your one change of dry clothes from your backpack and set them on the sink.

“Don’t lock it please, Y/N,” Steve called, worried you would collapse.

“M’not!”

You stripped out of your ruined uniform, discarding it with the boys’. You stepped under the hot water, a moan escaping you as you finally got some relief from the freeze deep in your bones. You washed the mud off of your body and out of your hair, nearly crying from the relief of the hot water.

“Oh my god, fuck!” You shrieked when your clothes fell off the counter and onto the wet floor, the drain not doing much good.

“Y/N?!” Bucky’s concerned voice came as he cracked the door open.

“I’m fine, I...” you started crying again, feeling defeated and worn out.

“Doll, what happened...” Bucky’s voice was soft, the rare term of endearment making you cry harder.

“I dropped my clothes!” You shut off the water and peered around the dingy curtain. You grabbed a dry towel from his hand, staying behind the curtain as you dried off, the steam keeping you warm.

“Just leave your clothes. You can have Steve’s sweater. That’s all we’ve got, but it’ll be big, so...”

You were wrapped in the towel as you took the fluffy white sweater from Bucky, pulling it over your head once you were given some privacy.

It fell almost to your knees, the sleeves covering your hands. You wished you had something to put on under it, but this was the best you could do right now. You squeezed the moisture out of your hair before joining the boys in the small motel room.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the sweater. They had only managed to raid a vending machine outside, and you were handed a package of crisps and another bottle of water. The television in the corner was playing some Russian telenovela quietly, the scratch of the fuzzy connection interrupting it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eating the crisps and wishing you had some real food to satiate your stomach ache. You pulled an extra band from Bucky’s wrist, tying your damp hair up on top of your head, getting it off your neck.

Your two best friends wouldn’t let you lay down until you’d finished the second bottle of water, paranoid of your possible dehydration. You ignored their anxious nurturing, getting under the covers as soon as you’d finished it.

You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and your eyelids were heavy as they fell closed. The two super soldiers laid down on either side of you, surrounding you with warmth. They were like two individual heaters, pressed against your back and front in the small bed.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it was pitch-black when you woke up. You stirred, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The storm was loud outside, covering the soft breathing of the soldiers.

You felt metal between your thighs, Bucky’s hand gently rubbing your inner thigh.

“James?” You murmured, stirring.

“Mm?” He was barely awake. Steve’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You rubbed your eyes, snuggling deeper into Steve’s soft sweater.

Your mind was thick with sleepiness, and you were still stuck in a half-dream state. It was warm, dark, and heady, surrounding you in a settled calmness.

You felt Bucky’s fingers trail higher, finding you bare after the clothing mishap. You didn’t register what was happening at first until you felt him sliding along your skin, finding your bundle of nerves. You whimpered softly, your mind melting and your legs parting even though you didn’t know what was happening.

“James, what are you doing?” you whispered breathlessly.

“I can’t keep my hands off of you, doll. You’re just too irresistible,” Bucky murmured into your chest, curling up closer into you. His lips ghosted over your neck, hot kisses dotting along your skin. Your body ignited with the touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“Wanna feel you,” Steve’s sleepy voice hummed through your hair, his hand moving up your sweater up to your chest. A noise escaped you as you felt Steve slowly begin to grind against your backside, hardening against your soft skin. You realized they were naked too, and you began dripping on Bucky’s fingers.

“Sweet girl, does that feel good?” he smiled against your throat, marking you up with hickeys.

You nodded, tipping your head down to kiss him. It was a bit hesitant at first, but you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into Bucky. Your lips molded together, his gentle movements easing any doubt in your mind. Steve squeezed your breasts, teasing your nipples and making you sigh against Bucky. He slid his tongue past your lips, the warm muscle exploring your mouth. Metal fingers pressed slowly inside of you without resistance, stretching you out and rubbing your velvety skin.

Your soft sighs and moans filled the motel room, and you reached behind you to pull Steve into a searing kiss. Bucky pulled your leg over his, giving them better access. You whined a complaint when Bucky pulled his fingers from your heat, causing the boys to laugh softly.

“I’m just going to get you ready for Steve, doll. Is that alright?” Bucky’s silver eyes locked with yours, searching for any hesitation.

“Yes, but... go slow?” you whispered shyly.

“We’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” Steve promised, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder. You trusted the men, knowing they’d never hurt you, not purposely. Steve’s hand smoothed over your side, kissing the skin of your shoulder that peeked out above the neckline of his sweater.

Bucky’s slick fingertip traced around the tight ring of muscle before carefully easing it in. Your fingers snaked into Steve’s hair, tugging lightly as Bucky worked to loosen you up.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bucky asked when your face squeezed up as he added a third finger.

“No, it just feels... strange,” you squirmed between the boys. Steve dropped his hand between your legs to distract you from the discomfort Bucky was causing. You slowly relaxed around him, smiling into Bucky’s gentle kisses. You adjusted your leg over his hips, pulling the soldier closer and smoothing your hands over his chest.

You were restless, anxious for them to be inside of you. Your quiet begs sent shudders of anticipation through the boys, giving in without hesitation.

“I’m going to slide in first, it’ll go easier,” Bucky waited for your permission and you agreed, tugging on his long dark hair. He loved it, a deep growl coming from his throat as you pulled on the locks. Your giggles abruptly cut off as Bucky wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he sank inside of you. He mumbled profanities in Russian, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock. Your leg draped over him allowed him to get a deep angle, feeling like he was splitting you open in the best way. He was bigger than anyone in the past, and you swore to yourself you could never go back after this.

“You’re fucking huge, James,” you whined into his ear, gasping as your words caused him to thrust against you, the friction sending electricity to your nerves. Steve laughed at that, waiting for Bucky to still before rubbing his leaking head against your other entrance.

“Just breathe, okay?” Steve could see the nervousness in your eyes, even in the dark. You hid your face in Bucky’s chest as Steve pushed inside of you, squeezing your ass in his large hands. Bucky felt the friction against him, and he struggled not to thrust into you.

The foreign fullness had your thoughts disconnecting, your body being overwhelmed with arousal. Your loud moans filled the silence, and you squeezed around them as Steve’s hips met yours.

They only gave you a moment to adjust before both soldiers started moving, thrusting in and out of you, making you scream with mind-numbing pleasure. Bucky’s movements became more forceful, pulling sounds from the three of you. You couldn’t think or move, your only ability was to take it, soaking it up and igniting your body. You throbbed around them, throwing your head back against Steve.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, you’re so tight and warm around us,” he praised, kissing your cheekbone. Your mouth opened with a choked moan, and he connected your lips, moving his tongue against yours. Bucky swore, even more turned on by the sight of his two lovers making out.

He lifted your knee higher, thrusting impossibly deeper. The pressure that had been building snapped, and you screamed as your orgasm hit you like a train.

“Fuck, I’m so close, doll,” Bucky knew he couldn’t last long as you tightened around him like a vice.

“Come inside of me, please, I want-” you didn’t finish your sentence as he came, throbbing inside of you as he filled you with hot ropes of release. You were reduced to mindless, incoherent begs, pleading for Steve to do the same. His strong arms held you still against him, keeping you from writhing as he came deep inside of you. Bucky swallowed your screams, and you sank weakly against them as you came down from the high that had all of you wrecked.

You woke up slightly dazed from the post-sex sleep, exhausted from the mission and getting fucked by the two super-soldiers. You opened your arms with a sleepy whimper, making the boys laugh softly. Bucky pulled you into a hug, letting you drape your arms around his neck and cling to him.

“How’re you feeling, doll?”

“Like I’ve had the life fucked out of me,” your voice was soft and amused, making them smile tenderly at you.

“In a good way?”

“In the best way,” you assured Steve.

“I want all of our missions to end like that.”

Bucky grinned cheekily, kissing your head and making you giggle.

“The storm’s let up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get you out of bed,” Steve peeled the blankets off, making you cling tighter to Bucky in protest.

“Your clothes are dry. C’mon, up, now.” Steve slapped your ass, and you slowly let go of Bucky.

“Help me, my legs are weak,” you held Steve’s hands as he assisted you in climbing off the bed.

“We break you?” Bucky teased, and you shook your head. You kissed Steve lightly before getting dressed, opting to leave his sweater on.

Within an hour, you were on your way back to Stark tower, curled up on the private plane, your head in Bucky’s lap as he stroked his fingers through your hair.

“So, everything went as planned on the mission?” Stark asked, debriefing with the three of you. You fought back a laugh, and Steve placed a hand on your back.

“Everything went great, Stark. We assassinated the target, and we all made it back alive,” Bucky confirmed.

As the three of you were walking out the door, Stark’s voice made you turn.

“Don’t think I’m stupid, I can tell what the three of you are up to!”

You squealed, running out the door with the super soldiers, away from Tony’s amused judgement.

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btsydtrash · 2 years

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Euphoric Endeavours [16]

vampire bts x student yn; poly bts

(AN: Hi, all! This story is actually already posted on AO3. I hope that you like it!)

also, i don’t have a tag list, but if you follow/put notifications, you’ll get alerted. tysm loves!

find me on twitter word count: 3.1k

(angst / smut / yandere / gore / fluff)

Chapter 16 ‘Constellation’

Waking up the next day, you feel like hell on Earth.

Your tongue feels disgustingly rough and thick with something you want nothing more than to scrape off and burn, and your stomach rolls with nausea as you crack open an eye to stare at the wall opposite your bed. Groaning into your pillow, you try to turn over but you fail, slumping over in a pathetic heap.

Being awake hurts.

Breathing hurts.

Thinking too much hurts.

Everything aches.

You must have gotten into your Dad’s secret stash of whiskey in the basement, but, you wonder, why? Why did you drink so much?

Making your way to the bathroom, sluggishly, to relieve yourself and brush your teeth with the strength of six men, you notice that your face is surprisingly lacking the smudges of black you had expected to see.

When you return to your room, you take in your surroundings more clearly.

Make-up wipes sit, innocently, on your vanity, which definitely hadn’t been there before you had left but… well, you guess you must have drunkenly wiped off your makeup last night. Hm, drunk you really had her shit together!

You silently applaud your drunk counterpart and continue to scan the room with watery eyes.

A note sits innocently on your bedside table and that- well, that makes you pause.

Absently, you notice that your window had been cracked open, letting in a small draft that you would’ve usually hated but the freshness of the air diffuses any gross scents that would have accumulated overnight, and you sit beside the gust of cool air as your eyes scan over the note, familiar writing instantly sending a shiver down your spine.

You really can’t handle your liquor, Cutie. ^^

But you’re very adorable when you’re drunk, so we forgive you.

Sleep well and contact us when you wake up – uh, only if you want to!

We aren’t taking your forgiveness for granted, we promise, but we’d really like to see you before we go back to campus.

Even if it’s just to talk… or just see you, you know. Whatever you’re comfortable with!

Your special Taehyunie (and a grumpy Yoongi-hyung)

Snapping open the drawer, you shove the letter inside with trembling hands. Bottles of nail polish and your barely-used perfume clatter loudly to the floor, only spared from smashing because of your fluffy pink rug underneath it.

Flashes of the night before runs through your mind, fragments of the conversation with the two boys racing through your head at break-neck speed. Collapsing to the floor, you feel your stomach roll even harder at the memories, and shame burns at your cheeks at your actions.

“Little Bird,” your Dad’s voice calls through the wood of your door. He doesn’t sound angry, but still, you freeze all over. If you’re in bed, then you have to have come home completely twisted, and that- you never wanted your Dad to see that side of you. He continues, tone still just as mild, “Did I hear you wake up?”

Scrambling to your feet, you shuffle to the door and crack it open, peeking up at his serious expression, shame-facedly. “Hey, daddy.”

He inhales, long and low, before he asks, thick arms crossed over his wide chest, “Want to explain why I met two of your friends, one of whom is my client, early this morning when they carried your drunk butt into the house, too inebriated to stand by yourself?”

Your ears burn in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a low hum of deliberation. You always hated when your Dad would discipline you, more than any of the physical punishments (going to bed early, eating your least favorite foods for dinner for a week, having to run laps of the garden until your legs felt like jelly) because he would just show resolute disappointment – something you had grown to detest over the years.

“You should be apologising to them, not me,” he remarks, a short shrug of his brows being the only indication of emotion on his face. “They seem to be… interesting boys.”

If possible, your ears burn even more at his implicative tone.

You reply, begrudgingly, “They’re… fine.”

He echoes, quirking his brow higher, “Just fine?”

You nod, still unable to meet his eyes.

He lets out a small laugh, and in an instant, the tension bleeds out of you. He isn’t mad, he still loves you, you aren’t bad – the thoughts rush through over you like water, soothing your invisible wounds. “Fine, fine. I won’t push you for answers you’re clearly so unwilling to give.”

He shifts out of the way, letting you out of your room and away from his penetrating glower of pleasure over seeing you squirm. He gestures with his head to the stairs and commands, “Mom’s made breakfast, hurry up and come eat.”

“Love you, daddy,” you mumble, trailing behind him into the kitchen, feeling two-feet tall.

You both take your designated seats and your Mom presses a kiss to your temple before tugging at a strand of your messy hair and sitting down herself.

He glances at you and lets out a small chuckle, as your Mom pours out some hangover soup for you, a knowing glint in her eye. He says, “I’ll always love you, Little Bird. You just made a silly choice last night. You got home safe, and they took care of you. I watched, of course, but they seemed to know what they were doing with you… Which leads me to believe that they’re more than just associates of yours.”

“We’re… They’re friends of mine,” you admit. “Or, they were.”

“Were?” Your mother prompts, sucking up some porridge and putting some meat into your father’s bowl. “That’s not what we saw yesterday.”

You ask, brow furrowing in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“They knocked on the door, and it was lucky that we were downstairs watching some movies together for Date Night, otherwise we might not have heard them,” he says, chuckling. “The taller one bowed with you dribbling on his back and introduced himself so proudly. They looked… unique. Their blue and white hair stood out so brightly against their skin, and they were… so handsome.”

“YN... Are the men in Seoul really that attractive?” Your mother says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I almost fainted when the tall one smiled at me.”

“No, it’s just them,” you reply, begrudgingly jabbing into your bowl. “Then, what happened?”

Your Dad replies, pouting slightly, “I offered to take you off them, still uncomfortable with my Princess with strange men, but they insisted on getting you upstairs. They were very charming and seemed trustworthy, so eventually, I led them to your room. They got you in bed, wiped off your make-up, even while you were swiping at them in your sleep.”

Your Mom chortles behind her tiny hand and says, “The shorter one, what was his name? Yoongi? Yes, Yoongi. He tried to get your hair out of the bun and you bit him.”

Choking on your mouthful of soup, you gasp, “I did WHAT?”

“You bit his hand,” your mother laughs at the memory. “He didn’t even respond, just sighed like you were a little kid and kept doing what he needed to do.”

“I changed you,” she says a second later, eyes wide. “Don’t worry about that. They didn’t see your private parts.”

“Mom!”

She only giggles in response.

Your Dad mumbles, strangely reflective, “The boys and I had a talk in the living room afterwards.”

Your Mom rolls her eyes to the ceiling and mumbles in her home-tongue. “Holy God.”

“I could hardly let them into my house, with my little girl, drunk as a skunk, without asking some questions,” he castigates. “Nothing personal, but they were forthcoming and honest. You met them in school, and they think of you as a close friend. They sung nothing but your praises.”

You feel your cheeks pink at his words, but you try to maintain your expressionless appearance.

“Once your father was done interrogating the poor boys, they left with a polite word and an apology for coming over so late,” your mother finishes. “And a promise to visit again soon, under more appropriate circumstances.”

You sigh. “They won’t be coming around, I promise.”

“And why not?”

You grumble, poking at your food, no longer interested, “We had a fight, I guess.”

“You don’t sound so sure,” your mother retorts, lightly.

Snorting, acerbically, you reply, “I’m pretty sure.”

“Were they in the wrong?”

You mumble, “I- It’s complicated.”

With a brow raised, your Dad rephrases his question. “Were you in the wrong?”

“It’s complicated, Dad.”

“So, it sounds like you have something weighing on your mind, Little Bird,” he says, sympathetically. “Talking sometimes can help.”

“There’s really nothing to talk about,” you lie, avoiding their eyes. Knowing that, according to the boys, you can’t lie very well (as much as you boast about your deception skills, you know you’re ridiculously bad at lying to people), you want to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible before you let something dangerous slip. The boys’ warning rings loudly in your head. “I haven’t forgiven them for something that happened at school.”

Your Dad’s expression grows stormy instantly. “Did they hurt you?”

You shake your head. “My feelings, mostly.”

“Have you spoken to them about it?”

You nod. “They explained their side, and it makes sense. I just- I haven’t been able to forgive them, inside. I hadn’t really spoken to them since it happened.”

“You aren’t required to forgive anyone just because they apologise,” your mother tells you, sagely. “It isn’t essential for your healing as a person. Forgiveness is not guaranteed. But, holding onto that pain, it only eats you up inside. You’re the only one hurting.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I know that, Mom. I don’t want to keep being mad, but every time I see them, I get these reminders of those bad feelings.”

“Take as long as you need to consolidate those feelings, and work through them healthily,” she says. “Try journaling again. It helped you in school, didn’t it?”

You nod, quickly draining the rest of your food, eager to have more of the sweetly-seasoned meal in your stomach.

Your Mom lets out a light-hearted chuckle and asks, “Want some more?”

Eagerly, you nod, raising your bowl and she fills it, indulging your greediness.

//////////////

Christmas is spent in the company of your parents. Songs are sung, gifts are exchanged, happiness is shared. You even video-call Young-mi, who is spending the day with her dance troupe in the university dorms. You promise to bring her back some dessert from your Mom’s super-secret recipe book and end the call with a bunch of kisses.

You don’t meet the boys again, but you do unblock their profiles on social media, secretly and greedily scrolling through their feeds at the new information from their vacations.

Jungkook seems to have gone to Sweden with his family, pictures with his younger brother flooding your newsfeed. You had never thought about seeing Jungkook decked out in snowboarding gear before, but once you witnessed it, you can’t think about anything else for hours. He always looks good but dressed in a black and white compilation of snow gear, with yellow tinged glasses covering his wonderfully expressive eyes and holding a snowboard that looks as tall as him, you feel your eyes, keenly, hover over the broad expanse of his shoulders and the tightly coiled lines of his body.

Namjoon spent the winter vacation in Seoul, working on the winter wonderland feature at the aquarium, proudly showing off his sticky and tentacle-having friends. There is even a video recorded underwater of him swimming with sharks. You know he probably was geeked out the whole time. It makes you miss his smile so much. He even has a couple of snapshots of him with some kids, leading a workshop about why recycling is so important. You recognise the carboard cut outs – he had made them himself.

Jin and his older brother, who you haven’t seen before, but you find looks more like his father than like the handsome man you have grown to care so deeply about, took a trip to Dubai for a fancy company conference. The smartly-dressed business major is staring, vacantly, into the camera and the distant look on his face makes you yearn to be around him, to pull the excited nature from his body into the world. There aren’t many pictures from his time in the country, but from what you see, he led a discussion about collaborative business mergers and even spent some time at the beach. You exit out of those pictures really quickly because Jin’s smooth tanned skin, bare broad shoulders and soft tummy are more than you can take when you are feeling so weak inside.

Taehyung and Yoongi return to Seoul almost a full ten days after the events of that night, leaving you with just under a week left before you needed to go back to the city to start a new semester. They don’t attempt to contact you, but you do covetously scroll through their pictures. Taehyung had posted a picture of his face on New Year’s Day, of the fireworks on the top of a high hill, with Yoongi in the background with Bug sitting on his shoulders. The caption: Missing you is like missing the sun. You’ve left my world quiet and cold, please come home.

You hear his voice whispering the words into your ear for hours afterwards.

Yoongi mostly takes pictures in his room, of his lyric book (the cover a mess of black scratches and overlapping doodles), of his dog, Holly, and the food that he had eaten. One picture gives you pause, one of him with his family, and you notice that Yoongi has two fathers. He never mentioned it to you before, but he seems happy in the picture, with both men (one tall but thin and the other short and adorable with a pair of glasses on his nose) kissing both of his cheeks. His dark eyes glitter from under his bucket hat, freshly dyed hair poking out from beneath it, a miniature version of his gummy smile tugging at his mouth, small teeth poking out from between his soft, blush pink lips.

Jimin had an important dance recital, and all the boys went to watch him – except for Hoseok, who was spending the whole vacation tracking across Europe with his parents and older sister, but he seemed to have sent him a big bouquet of pink roses to match his hair as congratulations, if the picture Jimin posts says anything. Jungkook even snapped professional-grade photos of the ethereal pinkette half suspended in the air, in the process of what seems to be an impressive aerial, posting them proudly all over his Wall.

Hobi’s trip across Europe fills you with happiness, because the dancer had always talked about wanting to see Rome, Paris and London, and seeing him live out his fantasies fills you with nothing but joy. In every photo he snapped, you notice, though, that he is alone. He doesn’t have any pictures with his mother, or father, or even his sister, despite going on the trip with them. You scan his whole profile and don’t find a single picture of his family – well, outside of the boys.

The precious photo of the six of them gets saved into your phone before you can think better of it, and you greedily stare at it late at night until your eyes burn.

In a moment of weakness, or seven, you set it as your home-screen background photo and hold it close to your chest, to help you fall asleep at night.

You had spent your days doing just as your mother suggested – journaling your feelings, documenting the changes you experienced every day, openly, earnestly, and then you would burn the incriminating words and watch as they disintegrated into the air. You had an honest conversation with yourself in the bath, in the shower, during the quietest hours of the night and early morning, and you found yourself coming to the same conclusion each time.

You missed them.

You forgave them.

Your phone pings from where it has been sat on the arm of the couch for the last hour, but you ignore it, choosing to focus on the game of Scrabble.

Your Mom glances nosily at your phone over her glasses and asks, amused, “Who is ‘Baby Bun’?”

You snap up to look at your mother, then at your phone that continues to buzz.

“One of the boys from Taehyung and Yoongi’s friendship group,” you explain, suddenly strangely alert. “I- I unblocked their numbers this afternoon.”

She makes a face. “Is that a good thing?”

You nod, slowly. “I think so.”

“Then, I’m proud of you,” she remarks, lightly. “Be careful, your Dad is cheating again.”

You look down to see him having made a bogus word for the third time in an hour.

“Daddy! Quit cheating!” You whine, bouncing on the spot.

He tuts. “Cimex is a word!”

Jerking your chin at him, you demand, “What does it mean?”

“It’s a type of bedbug,” he replies, haughtily. “Naver it if you don’t believe me.”

Huffing, you do just that, realising that he is, in fact, correct. Tossing him a vitriolic glare, you point at your eyes with both your index and middle finger before gesturing to his body in the typical ‘I’m watching you’ motion.

“Your turn, Little Bird,” he laughs. “If you can beat me, that is.”

Moments later, your phone pings with a series of noises, with increasing intensity.

Your mother huffs, in distaste, over the distraction, and eyes you. “If you don’t answer it, I will.”

Taking a moment to pout, you grab your phone and leave the room for some privacy.

Baby Bun: Look, hyung! I can see YN’s picture again

Joon-bug: Me too… Maybe she unblocked us?

Yoon: Did you, YN?

Gucci Boi: How do you feel, Cutie? Did you recover well? We didn’t hear back from you after that night

Nation’s Dancer: YN? Are you… Are you still upset with us?

Nation’s Dancer: Not saying you shouldn’t be, but… It’s good to see you. Hear from you? Even if you don’t reply. I’m glad you’re okay.

Yoon: We told them about what happened. It was only right. There aren’t any lies in our cluster.

Worldwide Handsome: You guys do know that it’s late, right? She might be asleep.

Baby Bun: Sorry, Noona! I didn’t think!

Sunflower: Just let us know you’re okay, YN. Whenever you’re ready.

Nation’s Dancer: Just an emoji will suffice, YN. Not even a word. Any that you like!

Worldwide Handsome: She’s going to send the shit emoji, I hope you understand that.

Yoon: She loves the middle finger one too

Joon-bug: Or the throw-up one. That’s a pretty popular one with her.

Nation’s Dancer: She’s never sent me anything other than the colorful food ones. I feel left out!

Sunflower: She sends emojis?! YN-ah! You’ve never sent me one! You’re killing me here!

You: .

And then you put your phone on silent, not able to handle the wave of emotion that crashes over your head at the thought of opening that door again, of being in contact with them again, of letting them back in.

Throwing up feels pretty good to you right now, actually.

///////////////

“Are you sure you want to go back? There’s still three more days before you were supposed to leave?” Your Mom asks, strangely subdued. “We got you for Christmas, and New Year’s, but still. We miss you.”

“I’ll be back around April,” you promise, softly. She kisses every spot on your face that she can press her lips, leaving light smudges of deep red lipstick that she opts to wear, even at home. “You won’t even have time to miss me.”

“Silly girl, you could be upstairs, and I’d still miss you,” she coos.

Your Dad is more emotional than your mother, hugging you and swaying you from side to side, kissing your temple and mumbling unintelligible words into your hair. Still, it’s much better than when you first left during freshman year. He had cried and refused to open the car door to let you out onto campus when he had driven you down during Fresher’s Week.

“I’ll miss you so much, Daddy,” you mumble, hugging him back just as tightly. “But, I’m going to miss my train if you don’t let me go.”

He scoffs, wetly, and pulls away. “Fine. Our Little Bird is so eager to fly the nest, I suppose.”

The three of you exchange loving words and promises to see each other soon, and before long, you’re on your way back to Seoul, curled in a ball, the hard-hitting vocals of Yoongi’s rap tracks pounding in your ears. Recently, it had been the only thing that had let you sleep peacefully, and you thank God that his Soundcloud profile had been public.

Young-mi meets you at the coach station, embracing you as if the two of you were lovers, in a scene from a pathetically romantic movie.

The whole drive back, she keeps shooting you covert glances, as if she can’t figure you out, and it’s only when you are in your room, with her helping you pack away your belongings, that she says, “They heard back from Mei Li.”

Fighting to keep your voice neutral, you reply, forcing the appropriate level of surprise in your tone, “Is she okay?”

Young-mi’s eyes narrow at you before she answers, “Her Mom said that she and Dongwon eloped.”

You nearly drop the pile of shirts in your hand when you register her words. Swirling to face her, you demand, “Are you fucki- Are you serious?”

She nods, solemnly. “She got a message from her, a picture of a marriage license and a call from Dongwon’s Dad, apparently. He quit his job and the two of them left the country.”

“How-”

“Her Mom called me last weekend to tell me,” she replies, strangely sad. “If Mei Li wanted to be with him so bad, she could’ve just told us. This is so… dramatic.”

“So, you haven’t heard from her?”

She shakes her head, sadly. “She’s over 18, so legally she’s an adult. Her Mom said that in her e-mail, Mei Li said she doesn’t want ties to her old life. So, she cut off contact with everyone.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“That’s what I said,” she mumbles, hurt. “But I saw the e-mail myself. It’s from her account, the same way she would write it. She even sent a picture of the rings, and the two of them at the altar, just to get her Mom off her back.”

That- In that moment, you realise just how terrifyingly thorough Namjoon’s connections had to be. The attention to detail that they had to have paid to successfully convince her own mother of her disappearance is nothing short of petrifying. You don’t have to hide the queasiness on your face, as it is mirrored on Young-mi’s face just the same.

You ask, “So… So, she’s just gone?”

“I guess so,” she replies, gently, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. “I’m sorry, YN. I know how much this must hurt.”

And, she isn’t wrong. It hurts, it burns.

But, for all the wrong reasons.

She comforts you, and you spend the night hating yourself for being the worst piece of human garbage alive. She cries with you, and you can’t stop yourself from throwing up into the toilet bowl once she’s fallen asleep, curled around your sheets.

You feel like a disgusting person, but a small part of you, the teeniest, tiniest part, feels relieved.

The ordeal is over.

Mei Li can finally rest.

You have just been left with the heavy weight resting on your chest, knowing your silence is tantamount to being complicit in her disappearance.

You make yourself sick.

- end -

Masterlist / Chapter (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13), (14), (15), (16)

#euphoric endeavours #supernatural bts #vampire bts #kim namjoon x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim seokjin x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #btswriterscollective #btswritersguild #btswritersclub #btswriterscafe #poly bts

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