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olet-lucernam · 4 months

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A Hollow Promise [15] chapter iii, part iii

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

chapter summary : loki's return to asgard becomes imminent, and his guard shows her hand.

recommended listening : i hear a symphony, cody fry

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It couldn’t last.

“Alethia, this is Agent Chen of Alpha Team. Do you copy?”

The cool monotone echoed faintly from her earpiece, just barely audible in the quiet.

Even if he had missed it- the sound swallowed by a stray clank of metal, or a quipped line of a dialogue from one of his illusions, or her sunburst laughter at the tale he was recreating for her- Loki would have still known what was happening, solely by the way her entire demeanour shifted.

Before the transmission had even finished, she had summoned up that air of impenetrable, unintimidated grace from their first encounter- relaxed and open and tauntingly arcane, with a stillness that bled defiance. It was the only armour that her honesty would allow, tempered magnificently from the practice.

Loki wondered if he should have set aside some time to destroy SHIELD, while he was on Midgard.

As though hearing the thought cross his mind, she met Loki’s eyes as she touched two fingers against the earpiece, the faint blue activation light staining her fingerprints, her brow arched.

Smirking lightly, Loki dismissed his illusions- the image of himself and his brother, playing out an incident from a few centuries past involving the theft of Mjolnir and one of their mother’s finest gowns- with a twist of his fingers, their forms dissolving into a shimmer of gold underlaid with emerald.

The light-show distracted from the faint ripple of dispersing magic, as the spell screening their mouths fell away.

They were monitoring the cameras- so her words through the audio link would have to synchronise with the video feed. After all, if SHIELD suspected her of colluding with him, even out of mutual dislike for a third party, her every move after his departure would be that much more scrutinised, and restricted. They had to appear as mere captive and guard, little more than indifferent amusements to each other.

The lie would protect her. Loki would make it convincing for her, crafting the deception that she could only foster by implication.

She spoke into the connection, smooth and crystalline as looking-glass.

“This is Alethia. I copy.”

“The device is almost ready,” the agent replied. “Orders are to prepare the prisoner for transfer, then report to the lab to review Stark and Banner’s work. Make corrections to the design if necessary. Debrief at the bridge. We’ll feed you the security code for the cell, so report when position.”

“Copy. Wilco.”

A disquiet pressed into her expression as her hand dropped from the device.

“Is it time?”

Loki’s question was gentle, and completely rhetorical.

Barton could read the words, but tone would be more difficult to detect.

She drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting down. Her gaze flicked aside, scanning the chamber- as though in one last desperate search for another way out, all while accepting the futility of it- before snagging on the bed still arrayed at the front of the cell.

“You should probably- revert that,” she said by way of a response, staring blandly at the mass of cotton and silks.

Loki tilted his head at her.

“Could you not keep it?”

Her mouth curved bitterly. “SHIELD would only confiscate it. To perform tests.”

So don’t give those bastards anything.

Canting his head in wordless agreement, Loki gave a clean upsweep of his hand.

A barb of mana loosened the transformation that he had secured into the bed, strong as a running stitch, and as easily ruined as a single snipped thread. The spell would hold- for now- but the slightest disturbance would have it unravelling.

Loki felt his breathing clear with the familiar sensation of satisfaction, of a spell sealed into place, of a problem resolved and a trick played to perfection.

“It will dissolve into its original state the moment they touch it.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, a glint of amusement- trickster, the word gathered silently in the curve of her lower lip- but her eyes remained vacant, a malcontent in her that Loki couldn’t distract or cure.

Loki exhaled quietly.

“Come here, darling.”

Her expression softened by a few precious degrees, gently breaking, like Castille soap shredding into flakes beneath the press of a thumb.

In an unbroken, unhurried motion, she reached for the armoured case beneath the terminal. Taking it by the handle and sliding it out, she straightened, pulling her shoulders back like unfurling wings.

Descending from the front walkway, she rounded the cell, climbing the steps to the sealed door with a few light strides. Loki turned with her, circling smoothly as the dial of a compass.

On the cameras, the action would look predatory.

Loki would call it baiting.

Once they were aligned- her figure set within the frame of the sealed door, Loki carefully positioned at the centre of the cell- she caught his gaze.

Loki felt as though he had swallowed a cupful of firelight, his heart thundering with anticipation, pressing at his ribs.

Come here, come here, come here, come here-

She smiled faintly, the slightest tremble in her hand as she tapped her earpiece.

“Alethia to Alpha Team. In position.”

“Copy. Relaying security code.”

The keypad chirped under her touch, as she deftly entered the meaningless chain of numbers supplied through the link, her gaze darting between Loki and the keypad before her.

With an assenting trill, the door unlocked.

Loki heard the bolt release, ejected from the magnetised latch. The hyperbaric chamber unsealed with a hiss of pressurised air, the door retracting from its moorings on fluid hydraulics.

The final barrier between them slid aside.

It felt oddly unceremonious.

She entered the capsule of the cell, like stepping out onto on river ice.

As soon as she was clear of the doorway, the panel closed behind her, relocking with a whisk of cold air.

The moment held like a breath.

Loki found himself acclimatising to her presence. Without the gloss of the translucent walls, rendering her a convincing illusion in the vein of Pepper’s Ghost, she was abruptly flesh and bone- viscerally real, living flesh, warm and breakable as her heart in his hand.

They were breathing the same air. It would take barely a few short, brisk steps to have her pressed against him-

The ensuing realisation was a slow flush of rage, blossoming like blood from an open wound.

They had locked her in with him.

Alone, unarmed, unprotected.

And she didn’t even seem surprised.

She moved forward, curving into an orbit around him, until she stood at the front of the cell, a few scarce feet from him. She set the armoured case down and, on the upswing as she straightened, Loki caught a faint sillage from the sweep of her hair.

Morning air. Hot metal. Vanilla.

Loki didn’t know whether he wanted to scream, or laugh.

After all this time, it was still the same- the clean coolness of open skies, the coppery tang of her mana, the richness and warmth that seemed to be hers-

“They sent you in alone,” he said, low and lethal.

Pushing back her hair, she met his eyes, head tilted back just enough.

He felt the wisp of her exhale.

“Yes.”

For the benefit of their audience, Loki gave a quiet, sinister laugh.

Gazing down at her through his lashes, he lifted a hand, grazing his fingertips across her wrist, tracing the stitching of her cuff.

He felt a flutter of involuntary motion, glancing to the unassuming point of contact.

His fingers were bright as ivory against the navy leather, tantalising close to the gold of her hand.

Swallowing against the temptation, Loki slowly turned his wrist- dragging a single digit up the curve of her arm, achingly unhurried. His knuckles grazed its wake as the angle shifted, applying only the lightest pressure, so that she would barely feel it through the thick sleeve.

A crease appeared her lower lip, the swell of flesh flattening as she caught the delicate inner flesh between her teeth, watching his face intently.

Loki paused at her shoulder, at the juncture where he could feel the ridge of her clavicle.

The heat of her skin radiated into him, her breaths pressing his touch closer with each inhalation.

His hand trailed up just a little further, along the crook of her neck to the seam of her collar, lingering just beneath her ear.

“Sweet thing,” he breathed, soft and dark as sin.

He felt her shiver- before it melted through her, a shatter of sparks merging into poured light. She released her lower lip, the abused flesh blushing darkly.

Control faltering, Loki curved his finger beneath the hinge of her jaw, slotting into place.

Her pulse pressed into his touch, tender, alive- and gloriously warm, enough that he wanted to sink into her like a freshly run bath.

It was, perhaps, the closest that Loki had ever come to tasting enough, to wanting nothing more, nothing else besides.

There was nothing more insidious than satisfaction, and the complacency it invited.

He slid his finger along her jaw firmly, forcing her head upwards, until it was hooked just beneath her chin, tipping her head back to meet his gaze fully. Her throat was bared in a long, strained, elegant curve through the open collar of the jumpsuit.

Her eyebrow twitched, infinitesimally, challengingly.

Loki wrapped his hand around her throat and- with a few swift steps- drove her up against the glass of the cell.

The heavy pane, strong enough to withstand a direct blow from Mjolnir, held firm. She barely flinched under his grip, caught beneath him like prey after a long chase.

“I could kill you here and now,” he gritted out, crowding over her and forcing her up onto the balls of her feet, balanced precariously. The ridged cartilage of her larynx flexed under his palm, the rise of her chest pressing into the heel of his hand through his vambrace- her breathing heightened, but astoundingly even, unpanicked. “I could snap your throat with a flick of my hand. Are they so confident I won’t harm you?”

She gave a steady blink.

“I told you the first time,” she said, enunciation slightly strained by the angle and pressure on her vocal cords, “that they are not particularly concerned.”

Abruptly, Loki understood the flatness in her tone, whenever she referenced her place within SHIELD.

It was a disaffected, almost laughing resignation, at knowing that she was considered disposable- and choosing indifference in response, rendering them irrelevant.

Still holding her in place by her throat, Loki leaned in- eliciting the quietest noise from the back of her throat as he pressed a thigh between hers, slotting them together in a frightening flash of intimacy- and slid his free hand to hers, raising and pinning her wrist above her head, against the glass.

His index finger pressed into the well of her palm like a nail, and her own fingers curled in loosely, grazing his knuckle in a caress.

From this angle, their mouths would be blocked to the cameras.

“Has it occurred to you, beloved,” Loki said softly, “that you would be happier without me?”

A look of wry amusement glowed through her.

“Happiness is transient,” she told him, each word rolling from her lips like droplets of pearlescent blood. “I want to feel alive.”

Loki tightened his fingers around her neck, blunt and testing.

She smiled darkly, undaunted.

Her affection was ruthless, Loki realised, in the truest sense of the word. It cut through everything superfluous with a clean efficiency, unhindered and unhesitating, twisting around obstructions and hindrances to secure firmly into place. It was a malleable absolute, both the origin and the destination, consuming and limitless.

Loki felt her thigh brush against his, a skim of contact through layers of leather, as she rose up an inch, balancing on one arched foot, pressing into him as much as his hand shackled around her neck would permit.

“Do you trust me?”

It was an absurd question.

Something of his reaction must have shown in him, like a shadow flickering through water, because Loki felt the short hum of a low, sweet laugh beneath his hand, the note reverberating like a purr.

She lifted a single hand, gliding over his breastplate until it rested flush against his heart.

Loki felt her mana gather, pooling on her tongue, before she spun the first line of spellsong.

The first taste of her magic seeped through his chest, warm as wine.

“I used to hear a simple song That was, until you came along-”

As the invocation solidified, gathering purpose and intent, Loki felt it course through his bloodstream, filtering into his capillaries.

Her magic luxuriated as it sank into his flesh, spreading like wings and swirling slow like steam from bathing, still closer to unrefined mana than the resultant spellwork. It was like fire-warmed hands gliding up and across his clavicle, wrapping around his ribs to the plane of his back, flush against the fuller of his spine.

“- something new I hear it when I look at you-”

He felt her press past the edge of his psyche.

Loki panicked.

His mind thrashed against the intrusion- his mental shields less like layered walls and ramparts, and closer to a living, ever-shifting labyrinth that would turn a trespasser back upon themselves- but she navigated them deftly, threading through like sunbeams, and Loki didn’t know how to stop her before-

“- wanted more Perfection is so quick to bore-”

Loki felt something displace in him- a strangely formed thought, like a shadow cast from an angle that didn’t quite make sense- you see, she’s the enemy, she lied to you, betrayed you, deceived you like all the others, how dare she, traitor, faithless, hurt her-

- no, that made no sense-

- but why would it not make sense, this was his mind, his thoughts, why would he not think that-

“- are more beautiful by far Our flaws are who we really are-”

Her magic burned, and Loki felt the strange thought begin to pull away from the surface of his mind, like a thick viscous tar being stripped from glass- its opacity pasted over a painful clarity, gumming together disparate fragments of memory and emotion to create a new image, a false mosaic-

That thought does not belong to me. It’s not real-

Loki darted in, seizing hold of the lie, trapping it in his awareness.

Her mana swept in, cremating it in a merciless, glorious flash, until it wisped away harmlessly like smoke.

Oh, Loki thought.

“- used to hear a simple song-”

It was a baptism by fire, disinfection by sunlight, scouring away the remnants of what the Black Order had set into him, splitting away and slaughtering whatever had survived his own purge. Her magic chased through him like wrought flame, killing each lie, and soothing the lingering pain left behind- bathing him in gold until her mana soaked into his bones, his own depleted reservoir brimming over and spilling like mead from a banquet cup.

“- you took my broken melody And now I hear a symphony-”

Loki hadn’t even realised how low the reserves of his magical core were, until she was pouring her own into him. He could feel a host of old injuries drinking her mana in, healing- bruised ribs, fractured bones, torn ligaments- the pain he had ceased noticing evaporating.

Steadily, the spell crystallised into him- and her magic pulled away, sealing the last of the breach like marble, glancing and sure as a kiss to the cheek.

“And now I hear A symphony…”

Loki opened his eyes- unaware that he had even closed them- just in time to see a sheen of gold drain away into her pupil, ebbing to the muted hazel.

She was breathing heavily, a triumphant smile painting her lips, fingertips pressing into his armour, as though trying to sink into the leather and pull him closer.

“Let them try to touch you again,” she breathed, faintly delirious, her grin sharp with a vicious mirth. “I dare them to try.”

Loki felt himself trembling faintly in the afterglow.

His hand smoothed down her neck, stroking into the hollow of her throat. The other still held her wrist, stretching her arm above her head, until she was almost lounging back beneath him.

He tried not to think about how easy it would be to lean down and kiss her.

“That was a risk, darling,” he told her quietly. “If SHIELD saw anything-”

She laughed prettily, euphoric and bright as the stars shattering together, her pale curls rumpling as her head dropped forwards slightly.

“I really don’t care,” she admitted blithely. “Not anymore.”

Loki exhaled an exasperated laugh. She was always at her most dangerous when she took a dose of his chaos.

“My heart,” he murmured, fond and quietly desperate, “my Astra-”

Her head whipped up, almost cracking the back of her head against the glass.

“What.”

She stared up at him, perfectly still, intense as the sun held arrested- and taken truly off guard for the first time in his presence.

“You-” she faltered, “what did you- it’s you. You’re the one who- you’re the only one who-”

It was as though something had snapped inside her, a support strut unexpectedly failing.

Loki sank in towards her, to hold her together, to seal her against him until she stabilised.

“Astr-”

“Loki.”

He halted.

Names had power. And this was the first time she had called his name- no titles to qualify it.

“Ald-” She choked, eyes pressing shut against it, as though the air had been punched out of her chest. “Alderliefest-”

Loki crushed down a whimper at the endearment- dearest of all, most beloved- and the way it was spoken, broken plea and a summons, a true cri de coeur.

Her nails scraped against his chest, the beds turning white at the desperate grip.

“My infinity-”

Loki jolted forwards a few treacherous inches.

Her eyes snapped open, saturating with a bloom of colour that he remembered, that had been drained out of her to create something nondescript and mortal.

Her irises turned richer, darkening, gaining depth, sparkling as though capturing drifting flecks of gold leaf- the effect celestial, and the resultant colour borrowed to create pieces of sea-smoothed Baltic amber, and the basin of a sunset, and the gashes of fire in the stones of the famed Brísingamen in his mother’s jewellery case-

The gold burned up through the hazel, like rice paper catching flame-

- and she shrieked in pain.

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blouisparadise · 3 years

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Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics with cocky Harry. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Zip Your Lip (Like A Padlock) | Explicit | 4151 words

Louis is a brat. Harry goes to watch him dance. Can you blame them?

2) Your Apathy’s Like A Wound In Salt | Explicit | 5312 words

“What a fucking ass!” Louis shifts his body so he’s completely facing away from the scene. “I asked him last night to fix my car and he said he would accept a payment in the form of me sucking his dick. I guess he’s really desperate, I can’t believe him.” Louis rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink in one go.

Niall shakes his head and shrugs, “I told you to ask any other mechanic in town but you didn’t listen to me.”

“Well, I didn’t think he would fucking say that now did I, Niall?”

“Louis,” Paige rests a manicured hand on his shoulder, “So, you’re saying you still wouldn’t hit it?”

“My ex?” She nods. “Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.”

Suddenly, Niall spits out his beer all over the table as Paige bursts out laughing. “Fucking ruthless, you are.” Niall runs a hand through his styled hair.

3) Anything Goes | Not Rated | 10275 words

Harry probably shouldn't be amused that Louis has a death grip on his hand and is dragging away from an event that, you know, they should be at. And he still probably shouldn't have that god awful smirk plastered to his face when Louis shoves him into the bathroom and steps in before locking the door.

4 Don't Hold Back Now | Mature | 11103 words

Harry gives Louis everything he asks for except for the one thing he wants the most. If only Louis knew who Harry truly was.

5) Rapture In The Dark | Teen & Up | 13153 words

Harry Styles is a breakout musician who has shed his boyband label in favor of embracing his inner brooding rockstar. His PR team think that his rebrand is the perfect time for Harry to come out of the closet and have devised the perfect plan for doing so. Enter Louis Tomlinson, up and coming (and very openly homosexual) model whose public image as America's Sweetheart is the perfect foil for Harry's new edge. From a PR standpoint, it's a dream come true - a power couple that can slowly coax the public into accepting Harry's altered image. The only problem? They hate each other.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Up To No Good | Explicit | 26525 words | Part 2 | Part 3

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

8) Nicotine | Explicit | 32345 words

“We’re two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we’d never date.” Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

9) When Our Worlds They Fall Apart | Explicit | 42228 words

Harry put his hand over his heart as if Louis had wounded him. “You’re so harsh, my liege! Perhaps you need to relieve some tension…” He let his voice trail off suggestively.

“The day I ask YOU to relieve tension is the day I lose all my wits and join the Imperials,” Louis said. “It will never happen.”

10) Submarine From Hell | Mature | 76049 words

Louis and Harry are the first omega and alpha, respectively, to become submariners, they have to find a way to survive lethally too strong suppressants while being forced to live in confined quarters with each others. In a submarine among betas, they decide to risk their blind noses by stopping all suppressants, but eventually, they must find a way to survive their heat and ruts, all while not getting killed in combat.

11) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

12) The Entertainment | Explicit | 94799 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

For Harry's upcoming album release, his team dreams of hiring him a PA to help assist with the burden that comes with a launch. Louis Tomlinson is a highly sought-after PA who's worked with many A-listers.

13) Tainted Sights And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126082 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

14) Collision | Explicit | 226294 words

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #cocky harry #blp fic recs #blp

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

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Uninvited

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader, Bucky x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky end up stranded in a safe house after a mission. Should be fine, except your early heat and Bucky’s secrets.

Warnings: +18 only. Smut, knotting, A/B/O stuff, dubcon

Word Count: 3,401

A/N: Okay this is for the 6th Night of Chanukah. So sorry for the delay. I really hope you guys enjoy and I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. I’ll read it back over later.

Bucky observed your mannerisms from the pilot seat of the Quinjet. Your scent was becoming musty and he knew exactly what that meant. In fact, his whole body knew, the way he would naturally gravitate to you when your scent took on this unique change. The raging hard-ons and the… nocturnal emissions. He felt like a teenage boy when your heat came closer.

He wasn’t sure this mission was a good idea for the two of you. It was an expected smash and grab then lay low but with your oncoming heat, faster than he recalled last time, Bucky wasn’t sure about your safety.

Not from the targets. No, you could hold your own.

Your safety from him.

Bucky wouldn’t call himself feral by any means as an Alpha but to say he was untethered around an omega was putting it lightly. Specifically you. Your smell even without the musky allure of on-coming heat is entrancing to him. He was never sure how to broach the topic of the two of you, after all, he’d have to confess to something Sam playfully jab at him about.

But Steve knew better. Bucky was a one Omega kind of Alpha, as was Steve. That’s how it was ingrained in them and no amount of brainwashing could undo instincts.

Landing the jet you jump out of your seat to get your gear on for the mission.

However, Bucky did have one other issue when it came to talking about any of this with you, your avoidance of him if at all possible one on one.

He assumes it’s his overbearing Alpha presence, in the past Omega’s had commented on his scent which made him stay clear of them. What was worse and unthinkable was your avoidance due to his past with Hydra.

You’d lost everything to them at a young age when your powers came out in their warpath to obtain you.

Shaking the thoughts from his head he clears his head to focus on the task at hand. He knew focusing would be instrumental in the success of this mission, given the thickening of your scent. Setting the autopilot to return the Quinjet he confirms the location of the safe house before exiting the Jet so it can return.

The mission was barely a success, while you and Bucky had been able to take out guards from afar your scent was spreading and alerting the enemy of your arrival. Bucky had taken lead, making you stay farther back. And finally told to go get a car for travel to the safe house

Huffing out in frustration you kicked dirt up making your way towards the already cleared front entrance. The last thing you wanted to show in front of Bucky was weakness, he was a man of duty and efficacy. He was an Alpha you admired and fantasizes about. The last thing you needed to be was a thorn in his side.

After all, you put so much effort into being an exemplary team member, not being in the way, only noticed when doing what needs to be done. Effective and unnoticeable. It was how you lived your life.

Your oncoming heat due to your designation was ruining your first duo mission with Bucky, and honestly, you would rather be shot in the head. To be an inconvenience and deterrent on a mission, to be one to Bucky no less. It made your chest squeeze, your growing heat scent sour.

Locating a quick get-away car you pull out your kit to unlock the door, your mind wandering as you began the task of hotwiring, something you could do in your sleep after years of “borrowing” cars.

What if he was hurt because you didn’t have his back?

Worse, your mind supplied, what if he’s disgusted by your heat?

Oh, that hurt.

Your stupid heat wasn’t supposed to be starting for another two days, let alone pre-heat scent spikes. Though, if you were honest the last couple of heats had been irregular in starting. One even started without any lead-up, just bam you were ruining your clothes and craving a knot like an Omega on her first heat.

It was embarrassing, and thank god Bucky had left the common room well before it started. When Nat found you, you let a comment slip that Bucky was nearby but wasn’t affected by your smell. She simply scoffed mentioning something cryptic about only one Omega for Bucky.

At that moment you thought nothing was as embarrassing as that, well tonight you proved yourself wrong. This was the most embarrassing thing ever. Certainly, after this, you’d be on desk duty for a while until your heats got under control.

The loud explosion signals Bucky’s success in taking down the hideout you wait for him to appear and he does making a brisk jog for you. Once in the car, you take off. The only conversation between the two of you his instructions to the safe house. His hand over his nose was enough to keep you silent and compliant. Clearly, your scent had gotten worse.

You two make it to the small cabin 2 hours later, and you’re sweating even in the cool temp. You tired to air the car out but the open windows only proved to push Bucky’s smell directly in your path and that only made your thighs clench, slipper with your slick. You watching Bucky shift in the seat in what you assumed was uncomfortable at your growing arousal. Missing when his metal hand rubbed on the growing erection trying to soothe his own ache.

You both jump out of the car once parked needing out of the confined space of smells, desperate to put some walls between each other. Yours out of shame, Bucky’s out of necessity.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle this. He’d never been around an Omega in their heat, sure pre and post but never right in the thick of it. He was a faithful man about Omega’s, if he’s with one that’s the one. Wringing his hand he heard you cry out in pain. He may not have experienced an Omega in their heat but he knew you didn’t have anything here to help you go through this. But he did.

He had the thing you needed, and god did he want to give it to you. You whimper out, even with a wall between you two the sound carried as if he was beside you. He was getting restless, the longer your scent permeated the air, the harder it would be for him to keep his distance. Bucky would rather have this conversation now while you were both somewhat coherent before he did something he’d regret later without permission.

With wide steps, he finds himself in front of the door where you laid. Bucky inhales deep and it was a mistake, the voracious growl he can’t stop from smelling you scares him, and the hint of sour in your smell scared you too.

Knocking is the only thing he can manage to do, the doorknob in his metal hand crunching under pressure. When you call for him to enter the knob falls and he pushes the door open. Taking a tentative step in he sees you on the bed.

Curled up, simply in your bra and underwear, skin shining with sweat or slick depending upon where he looked. The smell was better than anything he’d ever smelt.

Smelling Bucky closer, you felt your abdomen spasm and more slick produce from you. Your body readying you for the Alpha who smelled so tantalizing and forbidden. Not bothering lifting your head to see the sexual temptation of this Alpha your voice muffled. “Unless you’re here to help you need to leave now.”

“I,” Bucky pauses, “I want to help but I gotta tell you something first.” Closing your eyes tightly you were dreading his next words. Obviously, it would be just sex for him, what good are you to an Alpha such as Bucky Barnes?

“Go on,” you nod your head trying to hide your rejection before he can speak by keeping your head down in the bed, but he catches the faint sourness in your sent. He won’t let it deter him though.

“You know I’ve never been with an omega,” Bucky shifted awkwardly at his confession. Your head lifted looking at him in barely disguised shock. Never been with an Omega? It seemed unlikely, perhaps he meant since Hydra.

“Even before?” You paused not wanting to elaborate on what before was, doing your best to ignore the growing slick and cramping frequency.

“Yeah, even before. Just beta’s.” His head bobbing up and down, the metal hand running through his short locks a nervous tick you found endearing. But now, with this new knowledge, you were trepidacious.

“So what, am I some kind of uncharted territory for you to conquer?” Bucky’s eyes widen at your words, baffled you would think so little of him but then again what actions has he taken to show otherwise he thought to himself.

“What?! No! I just-” His backpedaling was annoying, you could be just sex, it would be hard to work together afterward but to be a conquest, an experiment that’s just too far.

“The connection between an Alpha and Omega is tantric and pure during a heat, you can’t do this because you just want to see what it’s like,” your ire making the room smell of burnt hair.

“I would never-” He tries once more to take control of the conversation but god you were stubborn.

“Cause Bucky if you just think I’m an object that you carve one minute and-” He cuts you off, voice raised.

“Will you let me talk!?” The boom in his voice making you cower at reflex from a loud Alpha. Your pheromones pushing out a pleasant scent to calm him.

“I’m doin’ this because I care about you,” Bucky looks down while your eyes round at his confession, you sit up on your knees edging towards the end of the bead. “I think about you a lot, and not just cause your smell is everywhere Omega.”

Looking up you’re in front of him, his eyes widen to match yours. He’s never called you by your designation before, your name, and maybe on the rare chance doll but never this. Your scent permeates the air around him.

“If we do this-”

“Okay Alpha,” your voice more confident than it had been since Bucky broached this subject.

He knew he should tell you he’d mate you, that nothing would stop him but he couldn’t find it in him with your consent, and the way you smell he fell. In an instant Bucky is on you, lips colliding, fingers digging into your flesh. You mutter against his lips. He pulls away only a fraction.

“Nest,” you whimper, slick pooling down your legs. “I need a nest.” Nodding his head as Bucky doesn’t trust his voice he kisses you once more only to disappear out the door.

When he returns he has the pillows from the couch, a throw blanket, and even some couch back cushions. Leaving once more he finds the laundry room and grabs all the blankets and sheets he can before dumping them on the bed. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up when he returns.

He leaves to get more but you call out his name. He turns back to you with a brow raised. “This is enough but clothes, I need clothes. I need your clothes.” You inform pulling your shirt from the ground where you had ripped your clothes of for reprieve from your heat.

“Right,” He rips his jacket, sweater, and undershirt off throwing them in front of you before taking his pants off to do the same.

You’re body humming with giddiness as you build the nest with his scent and yours slowly molding together to give a safe space. Too consumed in your task you miss the shift on the bed, Bucky coming behind your bent form tucking his pants into the intricate weaving you had done with the clothes and sheets.

Rough warm hand and cool sleek metal land only your hips. You whimper at the feeling, falling into the just set nest.

“Oh sweet Omega,” voice enticing against your ear while he leans over you. His chest barely touching your back but you can feel the heat radiating off of him. His arms slip down yours, intertwining your fingers. Suddenly he falls back pulling you with him to hand in his lap.

He’s hot, so hot, or maybe it’s you? You wiggle on his lap, feeling his erection bare against your covered back end. He shimmies you on his lap, the space allowing for his engorged cock to jut out between your legs.

You salivate at the sight of his large cock twitch. “You see that Omega?” a tingle slips down your spine at his rough voice in your ear.

He reaches down with his flesh hand holding your hand he wraps your fingers around the base, feeling the beginning of his knot swelling. It’s just the faintest bulge to the eyes but in your hands, it feels fully formed. You know it’s not, your omega instincts tell you it’s not but you shake your head anyway.

“Too big,” is all you can get out, heat consuming any syntax.

“Oh my sweet omega,” mewling at his endearing words he chuckles. “It’s not even near popped, but it will be.” his hand leaves yours holding him. “Once I’m rooted deep here.” His hand covers your mound, pushing the soaked fabric to the side he slips his fingers between our swollen folds. Twirling fingers along your clit you buck on top of him, crying out.

“I think my Omega is ready,” you writhe against him, moaning in agreement at his words. You were beyond ready, you had been ready the moment you stepped into this cabin but you had to wait. Had to wait for your alpha “Present.”

Your omega instincts move you immediately to your hands and knees. Bucky’s metal hand slides up your spine to between your shoulder blades pushing you down to your elbows and your ass up higher. Satisfied with your position he raises to his knees.

Pulling your underwear down to your bent knees at the same time he takes his red cock weeping cum from the tip. He feels something crawling just below the surface, a sensation he’s never had when fucking a beta.

It had been bubbling at the surface when he began to smell you but now, with you presenting, his cock head slotted at your entrance you rock back pushing his cock head but not entering just yet, needing more force to take such a bulbous tip, something is slipping away.

No, you shouldn’t be trying to take it. He snarls at your movements and you freeze. Satisfied at your response he pushes in, it’s almost impossible, but when he swivels his hips and growls your name he’s in. Then he’s pushing all the way in, your walls suffocating him, struggling to take him. But you will take him. Slick is pouring around him and out of you, your body desperate to take everything he gives.

Blood is rushing in his ears, he can barely make out the sounds you are making. All he can feel is your body beneath his, the way he’s dominating you, how your pheromones release the most exquisite sweet smell when he enters you. Had he known, if he had only known…

“Bucky,” you sigh in relief when he bottoms out, your full, more full than any time you could recall. It was like he was made to reach every part of you. He growls out and you’re quick to correct yourself. “Alpha.”

“Fu-uck,” he gets out, eyes squeezed tight. “I never knew-” he can’t finish his words.

“I know,” you concur, “I know.”

He pulls back and slams into you faster than you’re prepared for. You wail and your arms collapse under you but you turn your head, pushing one side of your face into the mattress that smells like you, like Bucky. Together.

Fingers dig into the sheets, drool pouring out your mouth and your eyes roll back when he pulls back to shove himself back in you, your body jerking forward at the force.

Something wicked is climbing up Bucky’s back with each thrust, the sensation mudding his brain but it’s different from the brainwashing. It’s different from anything else he’s ever felt. It’s part of him but something he’s not familiar with. As he continues to thrust back and forth you move with him.

He holds your hips still, hissing as he slowly pulls back. Punishing you for trying to take control. A pitiful wail falls from your mouth when he eases his hips forward into you. “You are mine Omega,”

You nod your head against the bed, anything to stop this slow pace. “You will submit to your alpha.” You whimper out a scratchy “Yes Alpha.” It’s enough.

He pounds into you, no not pound, pummels. His pace is fast, unforgiving, and more pleasurable than anything you’ve felt before.

Your hair falls in front of you, displaying your mating gland to him. It calls to him, the rush of blood making it swell, preparing for him, for his mark. He just knew it. Never mind it was always inflamed during an omega’s heat.

The wet slap of flesh meeting, his staggered breaths, your moans growing in volume, the taste of your sweat when he licks a trail up your back, the smell of your fluids combined that’s squelching out with each thrust, it’s all a new symphony to his senses.

One that sends him further to the place he’s wanted to be for decades. When he swivels his hips moving in and then out of you you’re crying, gushing out around him, cumming so suddenly you’re gasping for breath.

Your limp but Bucky holds you up by your waist, Your plaint body swaying with his thrusts, never once losing his tempo. He’s chasing something, something a fleeting thought that he may not want to do so but it was too late. Too late and too good.

When you finally regain the sensation of your body he’s never stopped once. For a moment you’re worried but remember Bucky is more than a simple Alpha. He knows you’ve returned to your sense before you can say anything.

He hooks his arms in yours, pulling them back behind you at your elbow joint. Thrusting wildly your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Are you ready to take my knot?” He growls, his voice is deeper than anytime you’ve heard before. If it wasn’t for the heat fuzziness overtaking you maybe you’d register the warning sign.

“Yes Alpha, please.” You whine instead, begging for what your body craves, the very reason you’re in this position.

“Are you ready to be marked?” He nuzzles into your neck, licking your mating gland. Something doesn’t feel right about that.

“Alpha?” Your head moves to the side to move him away but Bucky remains steadfast in his attention on your gland.

“Mine forever,” his voice is garbled, you’re fairly certain his smell has taken on a spicier sent. He’s in a rut. The base of his cock is swelling, catching almost in the last thrust. He pushes in all the way and it pops.

“No!” you try to struggle but he has you prone to his desires. “What are you-”

It’s so much at once, his knot is caught and you feel his cum flooding your insides. Nothing slipping out at the pulsing knot keeping you sealed

You cry out when his teeth land on your matting gland piercing with ease. The groan that vibrates from his chest shakes you. There’s a pop and then snap sensation that reverberates through your whole body as the mark takes.

He pulls his teeth back, licking and humping against you, pushing himself further into you though it’s impossible to give you more his instincts demand he is rooted to you. After a few more seconds he is rolling you both to your side, releasing your arms and warping his around you to cocoon you in his sent.

“You’re it for me,” his voice is rough but he sounds like your Bucky. “There’s no choice.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha bucky #omega reader #alpha bucky x omega reader #James bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #smut #18+ only

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spunky-89 · 3 years

Text

All Power (Kol Mikaelson x Female Reader)

A/N: Woo a new fic! Cause updating or finishing old WIPs is apparently not as cool. Also, this fic is a bit of a crossover from Teen Wolf, not anything like major, just some references and such.

Word Count: 1.8 k

Warnings: None that I can think of

The air was tense in the courtyard as Kol stood protectively in front of his lover, facing off against his pain-in-the-ass hybrid brother. Elijah stood between the two trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. Freya was off to the side holding herself, feeling guilty for starting this disagreement.

“You come anywhere near her Nik and I swear it will be the last thing you do.” Kol threatened.

“I don’t like liars, especially not in the house where my daughter sleeps,” Klaus growled.

“You really think I wouldn’t make sure that my girlfriend had no ill intent towards my niece? Do you think that low of me brother?”

“Enough, both of you,” Elijah spoke, turning slightly to look at his youngest brother and his lover. “Now, would you care to share what this ruckus is all about?”

“I don’t know, ask Nik.” Kol spat, rage in his eyes.

“You stand there and make me the bad guy when it is your pet human that is lying and has been her whole time with us.” Klaus proclaimed.

“And how do you know this Niklaus?” Elijah inquired.

“Because I sensed it,” Freya spoke up, moving closer to the brewing storm.

“Sensed what Freya?” Kol snapped, becoming more and more fed up with the current situation.

“Something… off,” She tried, struggling to find the words.

“You need to do better than that sister, or else this is a waste of time because you have no grounds to accuse my girlfriend of anything.”

“Enough.” The woman came out from her position behind Kol and came to stand next to him. “Please just stop, all of you.” She requested.

“Darling?” Kol gave her a questioning look and she gave a heavy sigh.

“She isn’t wrong, I’m not human,” She started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. “Well, not entirely human I should say.” She then looked to Klaus, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sense it. I mean typically wolves have a sense for this sort of thing.” She remarked.

“Get to the point, my patients is waning fast,” Klaus warned. As he did so, Kol took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Okay, calm down. The short version is I’m a werewolf.” The woman stated plainly.

“You can’t be, you’ve never turned on a full moon,” Kol stated, looking to his girlfriend in confusion.

“That’s because I’m a different breed and I’ve learned to control it.” She then gave a bashful smile at him and said, “I also happen to have an amazing anchor that keeps me grounded.”

“That’s it,” Klaus growled and sped at the supposed werewolf and pinned her to the wall, his eyes glowing golden. “Who are you?”

She saw Kol move to intervene but she shot him a look to let her handle this. She smirked as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them to reveal her eyes were glowing a vibrant purple, wolfish features taking over her face slightly. And before Klaus could make a comment or move, she dug her claws deep into his side and rake them upwards, causing him to release her in shock. She used that moment to roundhouse kick him away from her.

“Who am I? Well, I’m someone you really don’t want to piss off.” She huffed, fixing her clothes.

Kol was looking at her wide-eyed, never having seen her like that before. He watched in fascination as her face shifted back to the one he loved so much, though the claws on her hands didn’t disappear.

While Kol was focused on her, she was focused on Klaus. She knew she just poked the sleeping bear, or well in this case wolf. She acted casual, but she was ready for a full-fledged brawl. She heard him let out a chuckle, and her heart went icy cold. She knew that kind of chuckle. It was the kind that told her she’d just pissed him off and he was amused by her attempt to hurt him.

“That was a neat trick, love,” He said as he stood back up to his regular height. “But you’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want to hurt me.” He growled as his eyes flared and he started to rush towards the woman. Before he could even get close Kol threw him to the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you Nik, not a hair.” He seethed, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend, who was now minorly terrified and clutched onto the back of his jacket.

“Maybe I should just go,” She murmured to Kol.

“Nonsense, you are still welcome here,” Elijah promised.

Klaus had gotten up and was getting ready to argue when Elijah cut him off.

“Why don’t we give the lady the benefit of the doubt. As it stands, if she had wanted to harm any of us she’s had ample opportunities to do so and has not. We shall hear her out before we jump to any more conclusions.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually, all were gathered in the seating area.

“What do you want to know?” The woman asked, practically perched in Kol’s lap.

“First off, how is there another breed of werewolf?” Elijah asked.

“Well, there’s actually a few. I’m from the French line of werewolves, whereas your brother is of the North American breed. As far as I know, the only other breed is English wolves. But there are many different shifters out there from many cultures. Kitsune, for example, come from Japan.” She explained as best as she could.

“How is it we’ve never heard of any other wolves or shifters before?” Freya asked.

“That I am unsure of, but I’ve met loads of different shifters and other creatures. Where I come from, it’s practically a beacon for supernaturals.”

“And you can control your shifts?” Kol piped up.

“Well for the most part. The way French wolves and shifters work is that you can shift at any time, not just on the full moon. But the full moon makes us more susceptible to turning. But for older wolves, it becomes easier to control your shifts. Whereas baby wolves tend to be much more at risk of turning uncontrollably.”

She then spent the next hour or so explaining the differences between the different wolf breeds and other supernatural creatures, although she never really explained what she was. It was actually Kol that brought up the question.

“Me? Well, I’m kinda a special case. I’m a werewolf, but well, an extremely rare one. It’s why I didn’t tell you who or what I was.” She explained, clearly nervous to reveal who she was. But with one squeeze of the hand from Kol, she sighed and started speaking, “I am the twin sister of Scott McCall, the True Alpha. I am his opposite in most cases which makes us an elite team that is nearly unbeatable. So I am what is called a Compliment Alpha. Part alpha, part beta, all power. It’s why my eyes are purple. It combines the red of an alpha’s eyes and the blue of a beta’s.” She explained, once again flashing her eyes.

“Does that satisfy you Nik? Or does she have to go through her life story before you trust her?” Kol asked, seemingly done with his girlfriend being interrogated.

“I swear to you I am no threat to your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until Kol revealed who and what he was. Vampires are kinda new territory for me. This is not some evil plot to harm you or any Mikaelson. You all have become my new pack, and you don’t hurt your own pack.” She swore.

“I shall allow you to stay, but be warned little wolf, I see even the slightest hint of your inevitable betrayal and I will end you and your brother.” Klaus threatened, but instead of being scared she just gave him a smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” She teased as she stood from the couch. “But just so you know, my old pack and I are hard to kill. Trust me, many have tried, yet here I am.”

Kol stood as well and took her hand as they left for her apartment on the other end of town. He pulled her close by her shoulder and kissed her head as they walked out of the compound.

-----------

When they finally made it back to her apartment, he could see her noticeably relax.

“I have to say, darling, I’ve never seen you kick ass before but I would love to see it again,” Kol murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid kisses on her neck. She giggled and tried to push him away.

“Stooop,” She whined as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Kol, unfortunately, refused to let her go and held her tighter as he relished in her laughter. Moments like this were his favorite because there was just joy in the air. All troubles forgotten and burdens lifted to make room for the contentment he felt when he was with her.

The two settled down on the couch and just sat cuddled up in silence for a while. Kol was the first to break it after about half an hour.

“Would you have ever told me?” He asked, looking down at his lover who suddenly seemed very interested in the couch.

She sighed and sat up. She hated this. She knew he would eventually ask this. And she dreaded it because she didn’t have a good answer. But she knew she had to give him something.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She started, “My identity and my secret is the reason why I ran here in the first place. The danger became too great for my brother and me to stay together. We had to separate, at least for a little while. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She paused as she recalled the day she had to say goodbye to her mother and brother. The physical pain she felt when she got on the plane without him. “I was scared.” she admitted, “I trust you, and I wanted to tell you so many times, but…”

“But what darling? Cm’on darling, I just want to know.”

“If my identity was found out, I would have had to leave again. Which would mean leaving you. And I couldn’t- I can’t lose you too. It would break me. Shatter me to a point that I would become volatile and dangerous to those who came across me. Because my heart’s been broken a few too many times for me to be able to come back from that.” She said quietly, not realizing that tears had begun to stream down her face.

Kol pulled her back into his arms and just held her.

“I swear to you my love, no one will keep me from you. Not even my brother.” He vowed.

#kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson oneshot #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson #the originals #teen wolf #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kinda au #werewolf

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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haikyuuu-r-us · 4 years

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Erm okay so I don't usually do asks fr like that but may I please ask Alpha waka and omega reader. I saw you did omegaverse idk but yeah. Maybe fluff it not idk whatever works with you 🥺🥺👉🏽👈🏽🥺😳

Pt.2: https://haikyuuu-r-us.tumblr.com/post/625551637967175680/unofficial-game-alpha-ushijima-wakatoshi-x

Hell yeah, I do omegaverse, girl that's my JAAAM thanks for asking! <3

Edit: This is now titled- 'Unofficial Game' and this is pt. 1 ❤️

- Its no surprise that Ushijima Wakatoshi of Shiratorizawa was an incredible alpha. He was agile and strong. He was the Ace and also the Captain of his team.

- He was an Alpha.

- His team was highly regarded and respected. His team respected him highly. By some, he was considered a prodigy.

- Every move he made was calculated to bring him closer to his goal, no distractions allowed.

- He had a goal and he was hell-bent on reaching it.

-It's no surprise to your fellow students to find that you were an omega. You were rather meek and shy. You kept to yourself on the best of days and purposefully isolated yourself on worse ones.

- You were an omega.

- You had few friends though none went to school here. You were accepted into the school due to exceptional grades and recommendations. The school was seeking to expand into the arts, and in that aspect, you were an excellent starting point.

- You won medals in competitions. Never landing below third. You never cared for your medals. In your eyes, it was all subjective. Not to mention you had never been extremely competitive anyhow.

- you only desired to see your skills grow and to inspire others to follow their own dreams.

Essentially, the two of you never should have met, be in any sort of friendship let alone a relationship. The differences were too large, the first years would say. If only they were privy to how you met.

"Wah?? So you're the new transfer student?" You glanced up from the hallways tiled flooring to search for the voice. When he waved at you and began to jog towards you with a lazy grin marking his features, you slunk back into your oversized school jacket.

"Yeah...uhm, haha, that's me." You tucked your hair behind your ear nervously. 'He's an alpha.' Although his scent was a weird one, you found his constant seeking you out every morning just to say hi rather endearing. It'd be lying to say you didn't form an itty bitty crush on him at the beginning of your friendship.

As time went on he became your guide, and a strong brother-like figure to you, showing you parts of the school you had been too nervous to explore by yourself and encouraging you to take pictures when you asked if it was allowed. You were inspired by what you were seeing, you absolutely had to have a reference for later. He continued to guide you, most definitely spinning false and grandeur stories about how each place came to be. He didn't need to be right, it made you laugh and it kept you interested; You stayed interested even when you got to how the gym was built by angels who deemed volleyball a holy sport above all others.

"Liar." You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand as tears sprang to your eyes at his overdramatic antics. "WHAT? Omega-chaaan! I would never, E V E R! Lie to you!" He shook his head furiously and wagged a finger in your face. He was about to start again but a calm voice interrupted.

"Oh, there you are. Coach wants to start early with practice." The beta had blonde hair and a bored look on his face.

"Aw, what? That’s bull- wah! Omega-chan come watch me practice!" He cried waving his arms frantically as you thought it over.

"I dunno," you eyed the beta male wearily.

"It's perfect yeah? See, you can practice the Anatoly of us while we play!"

"I think you mean anatomy-"

"Yeah, same thing!"

"I don't even know what that other thing is- stop pushing I'm going, 'Tori!"

He ushered you in and motioned towards the bleachers. He was right you supposed. This would be a good way to practice.

At you were good at being a wallflower and despite the beta male who ignored your presence, you found yourself comfortable knowing that Tendou would step in should someone give you any issues.

Wakatoshi stretched quietly in the changing room. Nodding silently at Tendou when he entered and quickly, as though someone was going to give him a medal, stripped himself of his school uniform and into slightly more comfortable training clothes. He was being sloppy and nearly tripping when he pulled his shorts up.

His brow quirked down but he said nothing, figuring it was more nonsense from the Guess Monster.

He left the changing room and just as he began to walk over to the storage closet to grab the volleyballs, a new scent filled his senses. Though unnoticed to himself and the other Alpha and betas around him, his pupils dilated ever so slightly.

His head turned from the handle of the closet to assess the gym. There was an omega here. He could smell her. Somewhere, he raked his gaze across the room and a slight shift of fingers was all it took to have his gaze latch onto you like a magnet to a fridge.

Your form was small. Knees up to your chest with a book resting on top of them. A pencil clenched in between your fingers. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your chosen seat was high up in the bleachers, hidden ever so slightly behind support that jutted out of the wall.

He breathed in your scent slowly, allowing the warm sweet scent to roll over his palette. His pupils dilated and adjusted, connecting the sight of you to your soothing scent.

Omega.

He didn't realize he was making his way closer to you until his body was faced with the prospect of climbing up the bleachers. This time when his gaze landed on you, wide, doe-like orbs stared back. Quickly almost fearfully, your body tensed and you looked away.

Knows her place.

He narrowed his gaze in a challenging way. Who let you into the gym? Omegas were most definitely not allowed at any other time than official games. They potentially could be major distractions at the very least. You shifted nervously, and your fingers flipped through a few pages.

Her fingers were shaking.

"Ne~Omega-chan you have to watch!"

Of course, it had been Tendou. Of course, he would let in an omega.

He turned away, ignoring your presence, for now, Tendou would cause mayhem otherwise, especially if he thought you'd be forced to leave.

The game went well. In fact, Tendou was most definitely showing off the entire time, calling out for your praise and attention.

Though he didn't find himself drowning in curiosity, he still listened closely when Semi asked Tendou about the shy omega.

"That your omega, 'Tori?" That was a new nickname.

"Nah, she’s my friend! She's shy and stuff so I don't think she had anyone else. She looked lonely so ' voila '!"

"You're supposed to form friendships through common interests and tastes-"

Tendou stared in confusion. Semi sighed and rubbed his temples. Reon and Goshiki piped up out of curiosity helping to explain exactly what Semi meant.

Lakatos didn't bother to hear the rest. Instead, he went to join the first years in the gym, supervising them to ensure they didn’t fool around instead of cleaning. While they scrambled to gather everything up he searched for the omega, despite her lingering scent, he saw nothing. Then again, before he could complete his scan, a volleyball rolled and bumped into his ankle.

He kneeled and picked it up, testing the pressure in his hands. He was about to toss the ball back to the first year who dropped it, but he caught sight of you from his peripheral, and before he even fully realized why his inner alpha commanded him to do it, he found himself lining up to set.

Throw. Run. Jump. Slam the ball. Hard. Harder than needed. Put force into it. Strongest Alpha. The strongest.

His knees bent when he landed. The echo of the ball landing was still reverberating throughout the gym, the air was thick with unknown tension and no first-year dared to speak. The ball slowly rolled back towards him, and once more he picked it up. Except for this time he turned and handed the ball to the kid that dropped it. Instinctually his gaze searched for your face among the first years who know were shutting everything down.

You were looking at him too. The moment he locked eyes with your own, you shot your gaze downwards to stare at your feet.

She's respectful.

Slowly and shakily staring at the other third years locking up, you gave a weak chuckle and muttered softly, "uhm, so I'm assuming you're the captain?"

The moment you shifted your gaze back his spine straightened further and his chest puffed out slightly. Unnoticeable to anyone but himself. You were... Affecting him.

"Indeed." His eyes drifted across your form. He was never one to really notice omegas despite being an Alpha male himself and having plenty of fangirls, he never really, truly noticed any of them. He especially never bothered to assess their form like he was currently doing to you. His eyes slid to your face again, watching as your lips moved as you spoke, the words barely processing.

Her scent.

After receiving no answer to Tendou's whereabouts you glanced at his face again, though with more caution this time.

Her eyes.

Little did you know, the way your eyes peeked at him beneath your lashes, the way your brows pinched together and especially the way your lips parted in concern, all were sending his Alpha into a tailspin. His heart began to steadily beat faster, the same tempo would beat before a good matchup.

It was only the snicker from his right-hand side that brought him out of it.

Tendou.

"Don't worry about him omega-chan! He's just dense." You laughed nervously attempted to shift the attention back to Tendou instead of yourself.

That's right, you were there for Tendou.

He realized late that night, before he went to bed, that the real reason his Alpha demanded that one spike, the real reason his adrenaline couldn't seem to leave him be, even hours later, that his Alpha was proving to you, convincing you really, he, Waktoshi Ushijima, was the strongest. He was the captain. The Ace. His breaths picked up slightly when he recalled the way your lips formed the word 'captain'.

All he knew now was that he wanted you to call him 'alpha' next.

(Looks like I got a bit carried away with this one lol)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima hcs #xreader #haikyuuxreader #omegaverse #haikyuu omegaverse #Alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alphawakatoshi #omega reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics x reader #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha/omega #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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shades-of-stony · 3 years

Text

ABO Stony AUs! (Part 2)

As promised, here is part 2! [link to Part 1] I’m not sure if I’m gonna make part 3 but there are still a bit ABO fics left.

A King For Christmas by iam93percentstardust

Summary: In 1867, Tony Stark flees New York after refusing to marry the alpha his parents chose for him. His money runs out in the small kingdom of Dacia, ruled over by King Steven of the Rogers line. Somehow, and he’s not entirely sure how, he ends up accepting the position of nanny to the king’s four children: Harley, Peter, Sarah, and Morgan.

Tony bonds with the children easily but their father is harder to get to know. Steve is still grieving his wife’s death four years earlier. His continued mourning has turned the once bright halls into dark and somber shadows of their former glory. Tony isn’t entirely certain what he can do but he knows that he has to do something or else the whole country, so attuned to their leader, will sink into despair. He begins by reconciling the king with his young children.

Meanwhile, the children have decided that it’s high time their father fall in love again—and Tony is the obvious choice. They concoct elaborate plans to force the two together, hardly realizing that Steve and Tony are falling in love, not through their shenanigans but through the quiet moments they share bonding over the love they have for the children.

What, Like It’s Hard? by JehBeeEh

Summary: Omega Tony Stark has it all, until his alpha boyfriend breaks his heart. In an effort to win him back, he follows the alpha of his dreams to Harvard Law School, where he discovers there might be more to being the first omega at the prestigious school. He also meets another alpha that might just make him forget the one he drove across the country for.

Two-Point Perspective by FestiveFerret for sabrecmc

Dear omega,

Congratulations! You've been selected. Alpha #95847872 has been assigned as your pre-bondee. A group bonding ceremony will take place on the 14th, unless other arrangements have been made by your alpha or their family. A valid bonding license must be submitted to Omega Services within 45 days of this letter or all services will be cancelled and any transferable benefits will not be applied to your alpha's package.

If there is some reason why you cannot be bonded on this date, please apply for an extension by calling 1-800-555-6827 within 7 days of receiving this letter.

Sincerely, National Omega Services

I Love You (From the Bottom to the Top) by RomancebyFaye for Reioka

Summary: Steve and Tony have a great relationship. They may have only been dating for a few months, but the truth is, they had been in love for years before that. Their relationship is only getting better from adding this new intimacy and Steve is very satisfied with how open Tony is in the bedroom. He’s giving and generous, sometimes to a fault, just as he is with everything.

And then Steve comes home early and catches sight of something he wasn’t meant to see. The shock he gets from the sight of watching his alpha ride a toy might not have been meant for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting.

Now, if he can just figure out how to tell Tony how much he wants what he witnessed without putting his foot in his mouth…

Or Tony offers Steve something in the bedroom and Steve misunderstands the offer.

Until he doesn’t.

A Prime, Divided by avengersasssemble

Summary: Facing his and his infant son's possible death sentence, young prince Tony runs away to the only place where his father would dare not follow: the Northern Territories, known to house the most savage and brutal Alphas--including their bloodthirsty leader, the Prime Alpha. Forced to navigate fatherhood and diplomacy while being unable to speak the Northern language, Tony has to make decisions to save his son, even at his own expense.

Oversight by ShyOwl

Summary: It really wasn’t Steve’s fault that no one knew he was an omega.

I Love You 3000 by NazakiSama166

Summary: After the death of his husband, the only thing Steven Rogers could think of was going on and dying in one of his missions, and Steven was happy to get his wish.... that was until he woke up in a strange universe when people can shift into wolves and men can get pregnant... Oh, and did he mention that Tony was there too and was in love with his younger jackass self? And let's not forget about Peggy...

Life just loves to mess with him...

Dear Enemy by AvengersNewB

Summary: Alpha Steve and omega Tony are SHIELD agents who don't always see eye to eye, but some benefits on the side help them work things out in the most non-traditional way. Steve's jealousy after an unfortunate encounter with Ty Stone, however, makes things complicated.

Love Match by FestiveFerret

Summary: Tony had but one goal for the season: secure a marriage proposal from an alpha with the position and means enough to remove him from his father's house. Love was wholly irrelevant to the matter.

Stuck in a... by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve gets into a serum-enhanced rut. Tony figures that there’d be a long list of people who’d volunteer to help Steve out, but there’s only one person Steve wants.

A Late-Night Snacks, and Other Good Ideas by Annie D (scaramouche)

Summary: Steve's heightened senses means that he always knows when Tony's in heat. One night, he finally does something about it.

citrus and lavender by JehBeeEh

Summary: Steve laid Tony on his bed as delicately as he could manage. Which was ridiculous because he knew, logically, that Tony was absolutely fine. JARVIS himself had told him. And that’s 100% why he had fought Natasha so hard on Tony not needing to go to medical when they came back, even though he probably could use the check up. Yup. That was definitely the only reason he had insisted on bringing Tony back to the penthouse. No other reason at all. If you keep this up, you just might start believing it, he thought to himself ruefully. Tony wasn’t his. He had made it very clear that he didn’t need some alpha in his life to mess with everything he’d worked so hard to accomplish. Especially not Steve Rogers.

Found Love in a Hopeless Place by crispybacon

Summary: Steve really, really did not want to tag along with his brother to the bar, no matter how many times the jerk nagged him that he needed to get laid. Just because Bucky’s known his Omega since kindergarten, and the pair have loud obnoxious sex in their shared small two bedroom apartment, didn’t mean Steve needed to stick his knot in any Omega that looks his way.

That’s not the kind of Alpha Steve was.

Or, Steve goes to a bar and meets an Omega with a complicated past that changes his life forever.

This is Not a Drill by sabrecmc

Summary: “Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Everybody's got a hungry heart. by Perlmutt for ShadowsintheClouds

Summary: Tony Stark has never experienced a true heat due to the suppressants he's taking on a daily basis. Society accepts him as a beta, together with his friends and teammates and the alpha he's secretly in love with. But some things are just too big to be kept hidden forever. An unfortunate turn of events forces Tony to reveal his biggest secret to the world...

Baby, Just Say Yes by betheflame for starksnack

Summary: In a world where Tony's life looks a lot like Taylor Swift's, Steve realizes there always more to omegas than meets the eye.

Apple Pie and Sunshine by betheflame, starksnack

Summary: Even though they've loved each other for years, Steve and Tony have each convinced themselves that their one-night-stand was a fluke. Thing is, it also resulted in Tony getting pregnant and as the birth approaches, perhaps it's time to use their words.

blue since the day we parted by funkyspacegirlfriend

Summary: When he's twenty, the man Tony thinks will be his alpha and mate walks away, leaving Tony with a gift he'll never regret.

The same alpha reappears fifteen years later in the form of SI's new military liaison.

In my Favorite Dreams (I feel your heat) by Corsets_and_Cardigans for wingheads

Summary: Steve is on his morning run in DC when a ghost from his past comes back into his life. And he's not alone. *** “Steve?” Sam’s voice cut through the veil of the past, the crushing weight of memory that stole his breath. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

His staring must have finally alerted another parent, a woman eyeing him warily while tugging on Tony’s sleeve until he turned around. His eyes were just as expressive and wide as they were ten years ago, piercing the cold morning air straight to Steve’s own.

“Tony.”

“Wait. Tony Tony? The Tony? The Tony that Bucky busts your chops over Tony?”

His voice cracked, wrent into pieces at seeing his omega who wasn’t his anymore, body flaring in pain. Years worth of aching denial like a hot fireplace poker to his soul. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, who’s the kid?”

The Couch by Perlmutt

Summary: Steve overstepped a mark, when he accidentally called Tony, his mate, tiny. Because his omega was very self-conscious when it came to his height. So he needed to show him that he thought Tony's perfect just the way he was, if he didn't want to sleep on the couch for the next week. Luckily Steve was the man with a plan...

be the summer in my heart by billyscissors

Summary: After Obadiah betrays the Southern Isles, he offers Omega Prince Anthony Stark as tribute to appease the Warlord of the North

#stony #stony fics #stony fanfic #steve and tony #stevetony #stevetony fanfic #stevetony fic rec #stevetony fic #stony fic #SUPERHUSBANDS #fic rec

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authoressskr · 3 years

Text

Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs

Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta :: Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!! :: Word Count: 10,414

Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader

Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.

Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”

[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-

Part One

You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.

The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.

The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.

The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.

The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.

But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…

When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.

A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??

The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.

Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.

Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.

It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.

The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.

So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.

The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.

The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.

You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.

“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.

“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.

“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.

“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”

“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”

“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.

“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”

“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”

“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”

“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”

“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.

“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”

“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.

“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.

“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.

“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.

That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.

“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.

“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.

“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”

“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.

“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.

“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.

But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”

“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”

You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.

“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”

“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.

“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.

“Yes and no.”

“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.

“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”

“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.

“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.

“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”

“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.

“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”

“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.

How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.

And you both know it’s from you.

-----*****-----*****-----

Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.

“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.

“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.

“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”

“Horny?”

“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.

“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.

“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”

“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.

“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”

“Don’t.”

“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.

“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.

“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.

-----*****-----*****-----

The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.

Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.

Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.

Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.

Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.

Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.

You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.

“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.

Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.

Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.

From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”

“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”

“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”

“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.

“I was damned from the get go, princess.”

“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.

“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.

You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.

“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.

“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.

“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.

“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”

“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal.

Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.

The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.

Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.

“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.

Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.

“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”

“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.

“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.

“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.

The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.

He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.

“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”

His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.

“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”

“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.

“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.

“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.

“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.

“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.

“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.

“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.

“But you found me, handsome.”

Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.

“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes.

“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.

“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.

“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.

“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”

Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”

“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.

“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.

“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.

He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.

“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,”

“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.

“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.

And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.

“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.

The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.

“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.

“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”

“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.

“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.

It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.

“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.

“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”

Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.

“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”

Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.

A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.

The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.

Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.

Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.

“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”

Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.

“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.

“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.

Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.

“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”

“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.

“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”

“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.

“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”

“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.

“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.

Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.

“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”

“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”

“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.

“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”

“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”

“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.

“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.

“I can’t wait.”

“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”

“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.

“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.

“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.

“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”

“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.

“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.

“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.

“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”

“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.

“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.

“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street.

“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.

“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”

“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”

“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.

“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.

“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”

“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”

“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.

“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.

“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”

Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3

@stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @mizzezm

**PICTURE IS NOT MINE - FOUND ON GOOGLE**

**ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS**

#bucky barnes x reader #ckcomebacktour #authoressskr writes #bucky x reader #bucky au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader au #marvel fanfiction #marvel au

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 7

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Derek was alive. I let out a shaky breath as I used a tree to get back onto my feet.

“Derek…” I whispered. He stood on the hill, his shoulders rising and falling as he slowed down his breathing. Even though my legs were shaking from almost being mauled to death, I started walking towards him. And the walk turned into a run as I made my way to him. I stopped just short of him. Our eyes met and all my fear was washed away by overwhelming joy.

“You’re okay.” I grinned, “You’re alive.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Derek slowly slid his arms around my waist, holding me close. He turned his head, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.

“We need to talk.”

After taking Scott home, Derek and him talked and agreed on something. They would work together and kill the alpha to cure Scott. I sent a quick text to Stiles to tell him I was alright and Scott was calm.

Derek had offered to drive me home, the drive there was filled with his energy that I had never felt before, it was electrifying. I was just happy that he was alive. Once we were on the street the Stilinski’s lived on, I made him park a little bit back from the house in case Uncle Noah came home.

“When did you start seeing it? The visions.” He asked, putting the car in park.

“They started the night I last saw you. I am always looking through your eyes, feeling what you feel.” I leaned back against the headrest, looking at him. He seemed frustrated and upset. His lips were tight, but there was that look in his eyes that had made him look young and afraid.

“What have you seen?”

“I saw you talking to your uncle, you were agitated and felt lost. I saw you talking with this woman about your sister, you were angry and had so much guilt balled up in your chest. And I-… I felt the alpha attack you. I could not even describe the fear you felt then.” Derek’s hands were tightly gripping onto the steering wheel, it almost looked like he was blinking back tears. He felt weak, why I could feel that now I didn’t understand.

“Derek, what’s happening? I don’t understand why I’m seeing parts of your life.” I turned fully in my seat.

“It’s not uncommon among werewolves.” He said.

“But I’m not a werewolf.”

Derek shifted in his seat so he was facing me, “What it is… It’s a connection of two. Think of it like-”

“Soulmates?” I inserted the word.

He nodded, “But for werewolves it is supposed to happen after a mating ritual.”

“I think I can imagine what that is.” I blew out a breath, “So… why me? Why us? If it’s not possible then how?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because high stress situations have been putting us together.”

“Do you see visions of me?” I was really hoping he hadn’t been seeing me cry over him.

“I have.” Crap. “The night the alpha attacked me and then tonight.” He paused and sighed, “I felt this intense pull in my chest to find you. You needed me to come to you.”

“I thought I was going to die tonight. I thought that Scott was going to kill me.” I shook my head, “My luck is pretty crap.”

“I found you each time, didn’t I?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I guess you’re right.” I smiled and looked down at my lap, “Seems pretty inconvenient for you though. Saving me all the time.”

“It’s not.” He reached over, tilting my face to look at him, “Whenever you need me, I will be there.”

“I thought you needed to focus on finding the alpha, so that you couldn’t be selfish.” My breath hitched when he moved forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

“It seems the universe had a different plan for us.” He paused, “I can’t promise you everything all at once. After we take down the alpha, after I have some time to come to peace with other things, then we could take the time to explore…whatever this is.” He leaned back in his seat.

“That is, if those idiots don’t get me arrested first.”

I chuckled a little, “They may be idiots. But they’re still just kids. No matter how many times Stiles tells me he’s a man, he is still a sucker for Spice Girls.” I unbuckled my seat belt, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Derek grinned and nodded, “Right of course.” His smile was so… it suited him to smile. After all the grim and stern looks, I wanted to be able to make him smile everyday. I closed the door, leaning into the window.

“Smiling suits you.” I stood up and patted the top of the car. He dropped the smile, and chewed on his cheek.

“Just remember, if you need me, I’ll know and I’ll be on my way.” I nodded, turning away and walking home.

Did I ever think that I would be in a car chase? Absolutely not. But was I in a car chase with Kate Argent with Scott and Stiles while Derek was on the run from Uncle Noah? Absolutely. I was in the back of Derek’s Camaro, headset on with a police radio scanner from the Stilinksi’s basement. It was an older model and out of use but it could still pick up radio.

“They’re chasing him on foot, heading northwest.” I shouted to Scott, holding onto the radio as we raced through downtown. In pursuit was Kate Argent.

“Faster?” Scott asked, gripping the steering wheel.

“Much faster.” Stiles answered, watching out the back window. Scott seemed to go a little faster, but the other car was still catching up.

“Scott, I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here…” Stiles said nervously.

If I go faster, I’ll kill us!” Scott shouted, clearly panicking. Stiles leaned forward.

“Well, if you don't go faster, they're gonna kill us!” Scott pressed down on the pedal, but Kate Argent and her team seemed to divert away and left them.

“They’re gone.” A new message came over the radio: “All units, suspect is on foot heading into the Iron Works.”

“He’s in the Iron works.” I called, and suddenly my vision clouded.

Derek ran but was stopped by a flash bang, blinding him, shots rang out.

“And hurry, Chris Argent’s got him cornered.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’ll explain later.” Scott turned sharply, stopping the car. Derek was behind a forklift, shots ringing out towards them.

“Get in!” Stiles shouted. Derek hurriedly got in the car, Scott speeding off before he even finished closing the door.

“What part of “laying low” don’t you understand?!” Scott said in an exasperated voice.

“Damn it!” Derek growled, “I had him!”

“Who? The Alpha?” Stiles leaned forward, I pulled him back, pointing to his seat belt. He rolled his eyes but put it on.

Yes!” He said impatiently, “He was right in front of me, and the friggin’ police showed up.”

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs-” Stiles defended his dad.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” He shouted to Scott.

Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake. I get it.” Scott said defensively.

“All right. How did you find him?” Stiles asked Derek.

Scott scoffed, “Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?”

“Yeah, both of us!” Derek glared back at him, making Stiles shrink back into his seat, “Or, just him. I’ll be back here.” Derek glanced back at me. I nodded for him to tell.

“Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles was back leaning forward.

“Why him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“What’s the second?”

“Some kind of symbol.” Derek pulled a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It looked like a family crest with a wolf and sun. Scott stared at it.

“What? You know what this is?”

“I’ve seen it on a necklace. Allison’s necklace.” Scott looked back at the road.

I sat at my desk, getting some papers ready for tonight’s lacrosse game, when I heard knocking at my window. I turned quickly and sighed when it wasn’t, in fact, a murderer. Derek looked around and knocked again impatiently. I quickly opened the window and pulled him inside.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered, “My uncle is here, you know, the one that wants you arrested.” He grunted as he got up, closing the window and the curtains, setting a pile of books on my desk.

“This was Stiles’ idiot plan so blame him.”

“He was right, you are kind of a sour wolf.” I laughed, he was very unamused.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Stay here, I’ll go grab you water and something to eat. You’re starving.” I turned to the door but stopped, turning back to face him.

“How do I know you’re starving?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Probably the same way I can talk to you like this.” His voice echoed in my head, I jumped and pointed at him.

“Warning! Some warning would be nice!” I gave him a scolding look and went out into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind me.

As I was making Derek a sandwich, Stiles bolted through the door and upstairs. I sighed and finished the food, heading upstairs.

As I got to the top, Uncle Noah came out from around a corner, “Hey Stiles!” He called and then noticed me, “Hey (Y/N).” He looked down at the sandwich, “I didn’t know you liked ham and…thick cut beef jerky sandwiches.” I looked down at the sandwich.

“Uh yeah, I just figured out I liked it.” I grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. I hummed and chewed it, even though I rather spit it back out.

“I’ll have to pick some up next time I’m out. My buddy at the station makes it.” I nodded and continued to chew. That would explain why it was heavy on the pepper. That guy should really stick to his day job.

Stiles mumbled something from his room as he came out.

“What’d you say?” Uncle Noah asked.

Stiles leaned on the doorway, “What? I said “Yo, D-Dad.”

Uncle Noah sighed, “Listen, I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game.” He smiled

Stiles nodded, “My first game… Uh, it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you. And I’m really proud of you.” He said sincerely. If I didn’t have this terrible jerky in my mouth, I would be more emotional.

“Thanks. Me too. I’m happy and proud of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m first line! Believe that?”

“I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me, too. Again, I’m-” Stiles came forward, forcing Uncle Noah into an incredibly awkward, “Huggie, huggie, huggie…”

“See you there.” Uncle Noah pulled away, heading downstairs.

“Take it easy.” He said as he left. I waited until I heard the front door close to spit the mush back onto my plate. The jerky looked just as intact as it had when it went in my mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” I went back downstairs and threw out that abomination and the rest of it that was in the fridge. For as long as I live, Uncle Noah will be bringing home that jerky for me to eat. But that was a sacrifice I was willing to make to make him happy. I made a different sandwich with edible toppings this time and made it upstairs to see Derek grumbling and broody as usual. I handed him the plate. He took it then sniffed the air.

“What smells like death?” He asked. I covered my mouth.

“Don’t ask, just know that it will never hurt anyone ever again.”

After many rounds of tooth brushing and mouthwash, the death smell was extinguished. When I came back in, Danny from the lacrosse team was sitting at the computer with Stiles and Derek was sitting in the corner, reading.

“You want me to do what?” Danny asked, “Hey (Y/N).” He greeted me before looking back at Stiles. I nodded and waved.

“Trace a text.”

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do.”

“And we will!” He paused, “Once you trace the text.”

And what makes you think I know how?”

“I-I looked up your arrest report, so-”

“I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” He said defensively.

“Whatever.”

“No, we’re doing lab work.”

“Oh, my…” Stiles sighed, looking at the computer. I sighed and grabbed a book from the pile that Derek had. It looked old, the pages were yellowed. I turned to a random page and browsed, listening in on Stiles and Danny.

“Who’s that again?” Danny whispered. Stiles looked back at Derek, then back to Danny.

“Um, my cousin…Miguel.” He lied. Derek glanced up at them, then back to the book. I bit my lip to keep my giggles back. Derek’s eyes shot me a warning glance.

“Is that blood on his shirt?” Danny asked. My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it but his grey long sleeve shirt had spots of blood.

“Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds.” Stiles looked back at Derek, “Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts.” He looked pointedly towards his dresser. Derek closed the book on his lap and set it aside. He stood up, went to Stiles’ dresser and took his shirt off, revealing the triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades. And it seems like I wasn’t the only one appreciating that it was off either. Danny was taking quick glances towards Derek.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-”

“Uh, Stiles…?” Derek said, holding a button down shirt in his hands.

“Yes?” Stiles asked innocently.

“This… no fit!” He said irritably, tugging the shirt. I covered my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. It was cruel to be in this situation and not laugh.

‘Then try something else on!” Stiles turned back to Danny, “Sorry.” Derek found a blue and orange striped collared shirt.

“Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” Derek looked incredibly beyond pissed, but that anger was directed at Stiles so this just kept getting better and better. I was nearly in tears. Was Stiles using Danny’s sexuality to his advantage? Yes, and we would have a talk about that later, but right now it was too damn funny.

“Huh.” Danny avoided looking at Derek, trying not to get caught staring.

“The shirt?”

Danny looked over, “It’s… it’s not really his color…” Derek removed the shirt.

“You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you, Danny-boy?” Stiles whispered to him when they were both turned towards the computer.

Danny sighed, “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek said, frustrated, “None of these fit!”

“I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text.” Stiles gave him the information and after some typing and clicks, “There. The text came from a computer. This one.” Derek and I came up behind the two after he found a dark grey shirt that managed to fit.

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked. Danny nodded.

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

“Scott’s mom?” I asked. Right there, Melissa McCall. Danny left soon after, a pink blush to his cheeks. Stiles walked him out.

I grabbed my lacrosse bag, getting ready to leave to get to the game. Hopefully I could give Stiles a few minutes before Coach kicked him back to second line for being late. Derek stood in my path.

“Was that situation funny to you?” He glared, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, after the fact, no.” I giggled a little, “But at the time it was really funny.” He wasn’t laughing. I cleared my throat.

“Alright, I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to laugh.” I patted his chest, “But he was right, blue and orange are not your colors.” He grabbed my wrist, keeping my hand on his chest.

“And what exactly are my colors?” His expression had softened. I smiled and hummed, thinking for a moment.

“Dark red, burgundy. Greys. Maybe blue, just not that shirt. Never again.” I looked down, “You know it’s not Scott’s mom, right?”

He nodded, “I know.”

“And as much of a pain as he is, Stiles is like family to me. And I have this terrible feeling in my chest that something’s going to go wrong tonight.” I bunched up his shirt in my hand, “Please keep him safe. And you should be careful too.”

“It won’t take too long. We just need to get security footage.”

“I’m serious, Derek.” I pulled my hand away, “I have a dark feeling. And I’m scared.”

“And I believe you.” He reassured me, “I’ll make sure Stiles comes back in one piece. I promise.”

I breathed in deeply, and let it out, “Okay.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on my forehead. I really hoped that this feeling was wrong.

I stood with Scott in the corner of the locker room. Or at least I think that’s where we were. Coach made me wear a blindfold to “protect my eyes from men”.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, referring to the picture he had taken of Allison’s necklace that he stole.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.” Stiles said.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it? There’s gotta be something– an inscription, an opening, something…” Derek asked.

“No, no, the thing’s flat. And, no, it doesn’t open. There’s nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You’re supposed to be here. You’re first line.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” Coach shouted from his office.

“Man, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start.”

“I can only buy you so much time, Stiles.” I said into the phone.

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there, I’ll just be a little bit late, okay?”

“Loud and clear.” I sighed.

“Alright, thanks.” Stiles hung up the phone.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, “He’s not gonna make it. First game his dad shows up to and he’s not gonna make it.” I poked Scott in the chest, “You owe him big time for this.” I felt at the wall, making my way back in the ( I think) direction of Finstock’s office.

I sat in the office, fiddling with my thumbs when I felt it again. That painful fear in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Stiles, get out of there right now! It’s him! He’s the Alpha! Get out!” Derek shouted into the phone. He cursed and got out of the Jeep, running inside. His heart was beating fast and a terrible realization was going through his head. His own Uncle killed his sister. It had been him all along, how could he have missed it? Derek ran inside, punching the nurse that had been taking care of his Uncle and helping him in his crimes. She fell to the floor, out cold.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.” I looked at the man who I had seen from the previous vision but now he was walking and talking and Derek was scared.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” I looked at Stiles, “Get out of the way.”

“Oh, damn…” Stiles squeaked. Derek launched himself at his uncle only to be grabbed and slammed into one wall and then another. Peter picked him up by the throat and slid him across the room on his back. I saw Peter’s attention go back to Stiles. Derek pushed himself up, punching Peter in the nose. It didn’t seem to phase him. Peter headbutted Derek and kicked him in the stomach. Sending him back into another wall. Pain spread through my back. But Derek still stood up, spitting blood. He threw punches at Peter but they were dodged, he grabbed Derek’s wrist and bent it back, fracturing it. He went down to his knees. Peter then grabbed him and threw him through a pane of glass.

I gasped and sat back, holding my arm tightly. It felt like it was broken but it wasn’t my arm that had been broken. It was Derek’s

Out of the field, Coach called for a huddle.

“Scott.” I tried to grab his attention, but from the looks he was giving Jackson, it meant that he probably knew something.

“Let’s go! Huddle up! Let’s go! Big night! Big night! get in here, (Y/L/N).” Coach pulled my arm into the huddle.

“Ready? Say it so they can hear it! Hands in!” We all put our hands in the middle of the circle, “What are we?”

“WE ARE LACROSSE!” They shouted.

“All right, take the field! Let’s go!” Coach sent them out. It was too late to tell Scott who the alpha was and there was no way I could slip away to help without Coach noticing. Derek was getting his ass kicked and there was nothing I could do to help him.

“You gotta get out of there. Grab Stiles and run.” I thought hard, hoping that I could send my thoughts to him. I heard nothing back so my heart sank even deeper.

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

Read part 8 here!

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 21

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You’re the weakness of the princes and the best bait to lure them out. All you can pray for now is the boys to be safe and hope for an opportunity to escape your kidnappers.

Chapter warning(s): Kidnapping, violence, character death (cameos). Please read at your own discretion.

“It’s late. Where is she?” Taehyung came downstairs, realising you weren’t back yet. You have been gone for about 2 hours and it was getting late. The boys knew that you wouldn’t stay out too late because of school the next day.

“We’re patrolling so we’ll just check.” Namjoon said and Hoseok nodded his head in agreement. Stepping out onto the desk, they removed their clothes and shifted before taking off into the forest. Jimin shivered slightly, tightening the blanket around his body.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked his best friend.

“Yeah...” Jimin replied, looking out into the dark where his brothers disappeared into the woods. Something wasn’t right.

“I don’t smell her.” Hoseok told the leader as they padded their way through the forest, heading over to where your house was. Namjoon stopped and sniffed the air.

“She’s... not here.” Namjoon’s eyes widened when they arrived. The place was empty, the only people there were the two of them.

“Hoseok. Look at this.” Namjoon got Hoseok’s attention. Hoseok walked over and saw what Namjoon was staring at. On the dirt ground was your photo with your grandfather, along with your phone, which has been stepped on. The two looked at each other. There was no way that you would just drop your grandfather’s photo and leave like that.

“Something happened to her. We need to alert the others.” Hoseok said and Namjoon picked up the photo in his mouth, being careful not to tear it with his teeth.

“There’s footprints!” Hoseok saw the boot imprints on the ground. That just confirmed their worst fears as they ran home.

“EVERYONE OUT! (y/n) HAS BEEN TAKEN!” Namjoon shouted.

On cue, 5 wolves leapt out the side door and onto the dirt, serious looks on their faces. Namjoon placed the photo safely onto the porch platform. He wasn’t going to let that photo be destroyed.

“What happened?” Yoongi asked.

“We got there and she was gone. Her scent was faint and mixed with wolfsbane. There were footprints on the ground. We only found the photo she was carrying on the dirt and her cellphone was crushed beyond recognition.” Hoseok gave them all a rundown.

“No... (y/n)...” Jimin whimpered.

“We’ll split into our teams to comb the area. Be on the lookout for her scent or any wolfsbane.” Namjoon ordered. Everyone moved into their teams, the youngest 3 together, Yoongi with Hoseok and Jin with Namjoon.

“Jin hyung will follow me to alert the neighbouring packs and see if any hunters came into their borders.” Namjoon told them.

“We’ll start from the north and come east.” Taehyung said.

“Then we’ll that south and west.” Yoongi nodded.

“Be careful. Do not do anything irrational on your own. Keep everyone updated at all times. I don’t want anyone getting injured or anything else, don’t compromise your safety. Understand?”

“Yes, leader.” The 6 said.

“Someone took our mate and they’ll pay the price for it. We’re not resting until she is back home safe and sound.” Namjoon growled and all 7 wolves darted off into their set directions towards their destinations. They knew they weren’t just dealing with rogues. Sooner or later, they would have to fight hunters and they just hope that they won’t be too late.

You coughed as your eyes opened. Your cheek was pressed against the dirty concrete ground. Squirming, you tried to push yourself to sit up but with your hands tied behind your back and your ankles tightly bound, it was hard. Where were you?

“Look who’s awake?” A sudden voice made you jump. You struggled to move your head to see who was in the room with you. Your eyes narrowed on the figure that sat in the corner.

“W-Who are you?” You choked.

“You don’t recognise me?” He stood up and walked over. It was the male from before! He’s the one that set fire to your house and kidnapped you!

“Why are you doing this? I don’t even know who you are!” You shouted. The guy bent down in front of you, grasping your shoulders to make you sit up. He leaned closer to you and you pushed your head back.

“Amazing, you look like both of them.” He chuckled in disbelief.

“What?! Get away from me!” You tried to move away from him but it was the wall behind you.

“You look just like my sister and brother in law combined together. Both their features together.” He raised his eyebrows and then, it dawned on you. The man was talking about your parents, your mother being his sister and your father being his brother-in-law. You never knew what your parents looked like, did you really resemble them?

“I don’t have parents! My only family is my grandfather and he died years ago.” You spat, glaring at him.

“That’s no way to talk to your uncle.” He pursed his lips. You knew you made him mad by not acknowledging your parents and of course, saying that your grandfather, a werewolf, was your only family.

“Your mother wouldn’t have liked you relating yourself to that mutt.”

“Don’t you dare call him that! And I told you, I don’t have a mother. It’s certainly not that person who abandoned me in a battlefield.” You glowered.

“Just how brainwash have you been? That you’d rather side with those creatures instead of your own family. (y/n), they’re not normal. Werewolves aren’t meant to exist.” He slapped your cheek.

“That’s not for you to decide!” You shouted, hair covering your face as you fell back to the ground from the impact.

“You should be joining your family in this war, not going against them. We’re your only family, (y/n), not these mutts. You’re not one of them, staying with them will only lead to your death. Surely you don’t believe in their whole mate thing, right?” He chuckled.

“I very much so believe in them. You’re not my family. Those boys have been my family a lot more than you guys have.” You glared.

“Whatever you say.” He shrugged and walked over to the door, opening it. Casting me one last look, he turned around and left you alone in the dark. You wouldn’t cry, not for him.

“This is her?” Three guys and two girls walked in. You raised your head to look at them.

“Get away from me.” You glared as they came closer.

“We’re your cousins. I’m Soobin, this is Yerin, Minwoo, Jongjin and Kiwoo.” One girl said. (These are all random names with no relations to any idol)

“Yeah, pulling the family card isn’t really going to work, I’m afraid. I don’t know you guys, you aren’t my family. I grew up with my grandfather and have 7 mates, they are my only family.” You spoke. Hearing you say the word ‘mates’, their expressions darkened. It was obvious that they were part of the family ‘business’ as well.

“We know you’re upset because of what happened, (y/n). Your parents never meant to leave you behind.” Minwoo said.

“What those wolves did... They’re liars. You can’t trust them. All they are trying to do is manipulate you. You were taken from us as a revenge plot against our family.” Yerin persuaded.

“Lies. I’m not going to believe anything you say!” You struggled against your restraints.

“We’ll just wait for your precious mates to come then. That is... If they come.” Jongjin raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever tactic you’re trying, isn’t going to work. I have a more faith in them than what you think. They will come and you won’t stand a chance against any of them.” You scoffed. Soobin frowned, reaching over to grasp your jaw tightly in her hand.

“My dear cousin, you’re naive to think that they will beat us.”

“I don’t need to think, I know they will beat you. They’ve done it before, they can do it again. After all, you know what happened to my so called... parents.” You shrugged.

“You little-” She slapped your cheeks repeatedly, making you fall to the ground with a grunt. Kiwoo pulled Soobin away from you.

“Think of your position right now, (y/n). I would not pull that stunt again if I were you.” Minwoo warned.

“Maybe you need some time to think. We’ll be back.” The 5 of them left, slamming the door shut and leaving you alone in the dark. You still laid there, eyes travelling to the boarded up windows. No, you had faith in the boys, you knew you needed to put on a strong face even if you were scared and anxious on the inside. You weren’t going to let them see your weakness.

These people that claim to be your ‘family’... You don’t get it. How did they expect you to believe them when that man kidnapped you and prior to that, tried to kill you in your own house.

“Get me out!” You screamed and struggled.

Straining your neck, you looked down to see that your white crystal necklace was still there. That was your only connection with the boys now.

“Screaming won’t help. No one can hear you. You’re not where you think you are.” Soobin came in. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were hard. You looked away.

“What are you doing back so fast?” You spat as she sat you up to lean back against the wall.

“Thought this may help you think better.” She threw something in front of you.

“What?” You stared at the image and back at her.

“That’s your parents. And you.” She rolled her eyes. Hearing that, you turned your head, refusing to look at the picture of the couple and the baby again. That baby wasn’t you. It was someone else. Those people weren’t your parents. You would never call such monsters parents.

“LOOK AT IT!” She held your face and shoved the picture right in front of you. You let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Desperate, are we?” You smirked.

“You think your little mutts are such angels and we’re the bad guys. Did you even see the state of your own parents?” She placed more pictures in front of you.

“Look at what your precious wolves did to them!” She screamed. From the side of your eyes, you glanced at the pictures of the dismembered bodies. Even if you didn’t care, your stomach churned at the gore.

There were bite marks, chunks of flesh ripped out, exposed bone and blood everywhere. You wouldn’t even have known what you were looking at if it weren’t for Soobin telling you what the picture held. It was a blood bath, the aftermath of a war. Soobin was obviously livid, but not because of your stubbornness, there was something else.

“When did your parents die?” You asked.

“Ask your precious mates that. If you have the chance to, before I kill them.” She said spitefully, leaving.

“Wait.” You called and she stopped, turning around. She had such a look of hope in her face, as if she was victorious in persuading you.

“Take the pictures. They’re worthless to me. It’s disgusting.” You said and she frowned even deeper. Pursing her lips, she spun back and walked out of the room. With your bound legs, you swept the pictures away.

“Some family.” You scoffed.

When the door opened a few hours later, you were faced by your uncle and your cousins. But they weren’t alone, they had some people behind them.

“What?” You drowned out. There were 5 boys behind them. From their vibes, they definitely weren’t hunters. They had fiercer looks on their faces and they were dressed differently. The 5 boys stood in front of you. Their aura actually made you shrink back a little.

“Who are you?” You asked cautiously.

“The princes’ mate is this?” One guy looked over at you in disbelief. You frowned, were you supposed to be offended by his words?

“Yes, that’s her.” Your uncle nodded in confirmation.

“You want to take over the princes’ right? She will make you come right to your door step. Like bees to honey.” Yerin crossed her arms. Wait, take over the princes?

“We’ll take her then.” The boys cast you one last glance and walked away with your uncle. Suddenly, Kiwoo and Jongjin came over, grasping you by your arms and lifting you up. This was your chance.

“Stop kicking!” Jongjin grunted as you struggled to get free. You squirmed, thrashed and kicked around.

“What the hell? You guys are just selling me out to these strangers?” You screamed until Minwoo forced a cloth gag into your mouth. No, you were going to give it everything you got. They sat you down in a van that you assumed belonged to those boys. You glared at the 5 people that were supposedly your cousins. Talk about family betrayal.

“Don’t worry, cousin. We’ll see each other again very soon.” Soobin smirked at you.

“They’re wolves, aren’t they? They are trying to use me to get the boys’ place! Why are you even working with them?” You spat.

“They are. But they’re not what we’re after. There’s a bigger prize we’re after. And who knows, we may just kill two birds with one stone.” Kiwoo shrugged. This guy was speaking in riddles.

“Let’s go.” The 5 boys came out again.

“Goodbye, cousin. Don’t miss us too much.” Minwoo said as they stepped back. They all waved at you.

“Yah! Some wolves you guys are! You know they’re hunters and you’re working with them?! Have some dignity! They’re just trying to use me to kill all of you sooner or later!” You shouted as those boys hopped into the van with you, one sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Silence her.” One glared.

“Don’t touch me!” You warned. Suddenly, a damp cloth was wrapped over your nose and mouth as someone held your head in place. You kicked around, trying to scream until you slowly blacked out.

“If only we can mind link her.” Yoongi cursed. Namjoon had just came back after alerting the neighbouring packs but so far, none of them had any intruders into their territory.

“Where could they have taken her?” Jin stared at the pail of water. His finger drew along the surface of it and 8 images appeared.

“She’s still alive. I don’t think they have hurt her much yet.” He looked over at the others.

“Cowards!” Jungkook growled as he kicked the tree outside. They were at a dead end. Where could they even start to look for you? Even with their parents informed, what could they do? There were just too many possibilities with where the kidnappers took you. Hunters were good at hiding themselves from wolf packs.

“Come on.” Jimin laid in his bed, trying to force himself to sleep. Their mate bond was strong. If he had appeared in your dreams before, he could do it again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“(y/n)?” Jimin looked around the forest.

“Please! (y/n)!” Jimin shouted as he ran around the place. He ran to the field he often met you but you weren’t there. Tears streamed down his face.

“Jimin?” He heard your voice.

“(y/n)!” He turned around but you weren’t there, he was alone. Jimin continued running. The next place was the lake. As he ran there, he slowly saw the lake come into his view.

“(y/n)...” He called softly as he saw you standing in the water.

“(y/n)! Baby!” Jimin ran to the edge of the water. You turned around and your eyes widened at the sight of him. Quickly, you ran over before he could even enter the lake. You were dressed in a beautiful white dress but Jimin didn’t waste time to fawn over your beauty.

“Chim.” You hugged him.

“Where are you, my love? Where have you gone?” Jimin cried. You held his cheeks and it felt like you were really holding him.

“I don’t know where I am, Chim. But be careful. There are too many things going on now. I’m afraid things end in bloodshed.” You said worriedly. Jimin kissed your forehead.

“Bub, don’t worry about bloodshed. We won’t rest until you’re back.”

“I’ve learnt so much about the people who are supposed to be my family, Chim... It’s horrible.” You cried against his chest. He tightened his hold around you.

“Don’t cry. No more tears, angel.” He whispered.

“Chim, the rogues-”

You gasped as cold water was splashed on you, ruining your dream connection with Jimin. Luckily, the water was able to mask the tears that spilt from your eyes. Shivering, you looked up at the 5 boys that stared down at you. They were angry, their gazes filled with rage as they stared down at you. One pulled your hair back, making you wince.

“Why so quiet? You were pretty mouthy earlier, were you not?” He taunted. You glared at him.

“Glare all you want. You’ll be here for a while until your little princes come and save you.” They all smirked.

“You guys will never beat them. You’re wolves working with hunters, that’s a joke!” You sneered and the one who held your head angrily slammed your temple into the wall.

“Easy. We can’t have her dead before the princes arrive.” Another one chuckled. You felt something warm drip down the side of your head.

“I agree. At least give her the chance to watch her precious mates die before she meets her own end.” They all cackled evilly. The man released your hair harshly and you blinked repeatedly, trying to focus your vision with the throbbing in your head.

“Your princes owe us a lot. They killed two of our brothers.” One raised his eyebrows.

“Because... you sent them after me!” You force out. They shrugged in response.

“You guys are damned if you think that those hunters would have easily let you take me like that without anything. They will come back and it will cost all your lives!” You threatened.

“Oh, we know about their little plan to come and supposedly kill us once we have killed the princes. But we can take them. They’re just pesky little humans that have too much free time on their hands. Hunters don’t scare us.” One threw his head back in laughter. These boys or rogues were too naive. Namjoon has told you before to never underestimate hunters.

There’s a reason that they have managed to wipe out so many werewolf packs in the past decades. There’s a reason hunters still exist.

“The princes’ mate is the daughter of the top two hunters. Or... ‘were’ the top two hunters.” They teased.

“Using those people against me won’t work. Those that came before you have already tried. I have no feelings for any of them. I don’t care how they died, when they died, why they died.” You spat.

“Interesting... Family feud.” One nodded his head.

“Well, we’ll be back, princess. Sit tight.” They stood up and walked away. Like before, you were left alone in the darkness.

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 9

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: The first part of this chapter includes the whole scene of how the reader lost her leg, and it does get pretty violent and explicit. I also have to warn that the cause of the accident can get pretty heavy and heartbreaking. This series, as it isn’t already obvious enough, is just about as frustrating and angsty as other love triangle stories there are.

WORDS: 11,923 WARNINGS: violence, building caught on fire, 3rd degree burns, bone fractures, survivor’s guilt, heartbreak, death

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

‘Falcon Saves the Commissioner’ ‘Gotham Times’

‘The long beloved heroine has stolen the hearts of many as the vast criminal ring in the undergrounds of Gotham City has once again been interfered. Commissioner James Gordon, who had been reported missing the past two days, was kidnapped from his own home by the masterminds of Harvey Dent and Oswald Cobblepot, also known as Two Face and Penguin respectively. The City of Gotham has been in the state of panic since reports first arrived and a search party taking place in different parts of the city.

However, hope has since been restored and the safety of Gotham no longer as compromised as the vigilante Falcon, with the help of her known crimefighting partner Red Robin, had swooped in and saved the Commissioner, who was held captive at the top of Gotham Plaza. Reports of the heroine literally flying to the rescue, with her trademark wings helping her glide all the way from the building opposite the scene of the crime, have astounded the citizens with her will and bravery.

The Commissioner has thanked the crimefighting duo for their rescue and has been released from Elliot Memorial Hospital Monday night. No severe injuries have been reported and he has since returned to work as the head of the Gotham City Police Department. Gotham has joyously thanked the heroes, especially the young Falcon, for their service to the citizens. They continue to patrol the crime-ridden city and have grown increasingly popular, with the people calling them the fearless heroes we don’t deserve.’

----

“You made the headline!”

Red Robin probably shouldn’t be on his phone reading some news article when two other things were happening right then. One, the runaway that was speeding so recklessly was down the wrong lane and would have definitely hit a few headlights if it hadn’t swerved and narrowly missed a few pedestrians, and that if you weren’t to catch them, it might mean another night of painfully waiting for another robbery to happen just to catch these fools. Two, none of your hands should have been free enough to hold a damn phone at all, not when you and Red Robin were heavily relying on a single grappling gun each to hold your weight, flying past the empty skyscrapers as if it were any leisure.

“Tim, put your phone down!”

“I’m serious!” You both reached a rooftop and already you were on the way to the next one. The car frantically swerved again, this time almost running into some pizza truck. “People love you.”

“Maybe because I’m the only bird in the family who actually has wings,” you snorted.

And at that, you lived up to your name.

You, the Falcon, grappled up a nearby tower and ignored Red Robin’s cry. You were fast, and in such little time you’d reached the top, the cold mist breezing your lips like newly melted ice rode up to your skin. And when you did, you let out your wings.

Then you soared.

Maybe if you weren’t in some high-speed car chase, you’d have closed your eyes and enjoyed the slow, stagnant hover, when you weren’t descending just yet. You’d either fly even higher up in the sky, your ears thanking you violently in the process, when you’d shift your wings and stay in this calm, where you weren’t moving up nor downward. It was then when you felt that peace, as if miles away from the nearest conundrum.

You tilted to the side when you felt that slow descent, and below, you saw Red Robin frantically trying to catch up with you.

You laughed, then dove down, right to where you saw the worn-out red car was heading for, at an intersection where dozens of other cars would have been hit.

You pressed into your communicator. “Tim. I think he’s heading for the docks.”

“I think this is a hoax.”

“You think their boss is trying to give us the goat they’d sacrifice?”

“Might be part of their plan to distract us.”

You shifted your wings, then you landed onto a rooftop rolling to keep your balance, then you were running, Red Robin at your side.

“We’ve got the lead. Wait for them by the boardwalk.”

“Copy.”

Red Robin went over to the fishing port, all the way over to the other end, and you jumped over the ledges, swung by a lamppost, and let your boots completely obliterate this shed’s skylight to break your fall. Knee on the ground, and the room you were in eerily silent, you peeked over the door to see what was outside.

They’d be here in a few seconds.

There. A post holding up the phone wires. You grappled up to the top, crouched over, and waited for the car to drive over to the corner.

And these idiots slowed down, thinking they’ve lost you.

At the sharp turn, you leapt off to the post as if gravity was nothing you’d fear. And with your boots, your wonderful, padded boots that made you jump over larger heights and not hurt even your toes when you landed so harshly, dented the car’s roof and you had to hold tightly onto the metal just so you wouldn’t be thrown off by the sudden swerve.

Then it was Red Robin’s turn. From over to the fishing port, his grappling gun fired right into the roof of the car, and it shattered the windshield right where the driver was at. Left. Right. Then Left again. The driver was going nuts, and you only had so much time. You took out the one at the passenger seat and Red Robin the driver. From out the side windows, you shattered the glass, pulled them out from their collars, and got out of the car just before it crashed into the boardwalk.

And it wouldn’t have been pretty, with it drifting off the slippery wood and not stopping until the vehicle finally fell over the edge onto its untimely death deep in the ocean floor.

By then, you had the two robbers flat against the drenched cement, faces to the dirt and their teeth forcibly gritting from how hard you were both holding them down.

“Fuck!” The one beneath Tim growled. “Alright, alright, you got us!”

“We surrender!”

“Then it shouldn’t have to hurt so much when you tell us who you’re distracting us for.”

“What?!”

You slammed the noisy one’s forehead against the road.

“You know what he means,” you whispered.

“We don’t know about no distraction!”

Red Robin got out his bo staff and pressed it against his skull, just enough to hurt his temple.

“I told you. It shouldn’t have to hurt so much. Doesn’t mean I won't do it.”

Your knee holding down his back, you pressed it harder down his spine until you heard a yelp.

“Talk!”

“I told you! We don’t know nothin’!”

“What don’t believe that.”

The one beneath Tim was shivering down his toes. “Some guy on the phone told us about the bank and promised us a car and some guns if we give him a cut! That’s all I fuckin’ know I swear- ah!”

Tim held his face further down against the ground.

“Does this guy on the phone have a name?”

“I don’t know! Swear! Seemed sketchy and all but who are we to pass up on a free car?!”

You looked at Tim. A distraction still seemed likely, otherwise whoever hired them would have just robbed the bank himself with his own goons instead of hiring some amateurs who thought that 1994 Honda they probably stole from a junkyard was something they couldn’t pass up on. That or their boss was even more stupid than they were.

You grabbed your guy by the neck, hauled him up, then growled to his ear.

“You must be stupid to think we’d believe that-“

“Piss off if you don’t!” He dared scream at you, then you rewarded him with a smack of your knee down the small of his back.

“Who hired you?”

“We don’t fucking know-“

“Falcon.”

Red Robin’s finger was up to his ear, and he was staring intently at the ground. Batman.

“We got our answer.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “No need for these guys then.”

“What the fuck do you mean -“

With one swift move, you grabbed them both by the hair and slammed their faces together, teeth clattering to the ground, and they lied unconscious. Tim went on to listen to Batman bark orders at him while you tied them up by the lamppost and called the police.

Tim nodded at you, pointing to his ear. You tuned in your communicator to listen to their line with Bruce.

“…About ten robberies staged. High and low profile. It gave Lynns and his men time to set fire to three fire departments all over Gotham…”

“Lynns?” you said. “Garfield Lynns?”

“Firefly.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates. Signal, Black Bat, and Spoiler. You three handle the one in Bristol. Robin, Batgirl, and I will take Otisburg.

“Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Falcon. You four handle the fire in Cauldron. The fire goes on for two blocks.”

“I’ll send you all the coordinates,” Batman told his team. “I expect a call afterward.”

His way of telling you all not to die, to promise him that you wouldn’t die, that you’d be alive by the end of it so he’d yell at you for an hour over the smallest things you missed.

You heard everyone voice out their nods at Batman, then you and Tim grappled up to the tallest portside shed nearest you, then you were heading for the coordinates.

“Looks like we’re alpha team for once!”

You felt your heart joyously leap when you heard that familiar voice. Cheery and bright. Already, you felt that rush to work even harder than you were expected to.

You pressed onto your communicator when you jumped across a narrow gap between two buildings.

“We’re not exactly team alpha, Nightwing.”

“Well. There are four of us. And we’re handling the biggest fire.”

“Batman’s always alpha,” you laughed. “Maybe he’s handling the most important fire.”

“You can't possibly think there’re arson cases more important than the others?”

“It depends on what’s on fire,” Tim interrupted, and you shot up a tower and let the air take you to what you could now see was a large black cloud in the distance, spanning across almost the whole avenue and growing as tall as a plaza-wide mushroom.

“I see it.”

“I see it, too.”

Another voice. Deeper. Muffled.

“You there, Red Hood?”

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

Even in the air, gliding between the concrete jungles of the city, you managed to roll your eyes beneath your mask. You could tell Tim let out a groan, which you heard from your communicator.

“It’s Falcon, you ass.”

“Nah,” Jason laughed. “I like pretty bird.”

“Falcons aren’t very pretty.”

“Yeah,” you heard Dick’s voice again. “But you are.”

The lack of response from both Jason and Tim’s line told you Dick had blocked them off just so he could say that.

Your feet landed onto the concrete of the building just a few more minutes away, and you had your lip too harshly bitten. Maybe it was from the impact on your soles. Maybe because that rush up your skin at Dick’s remark made you want to leap even further off the edge of that building.

You fled to the site. Jumping. Running. Gliding. And at the sounds of screams, sirens, alarms, you went faster.

Tim had caught up to you. Poor thing was panting, and he rushed up to your side.

Then Nightwing came into view, also running across the gaps of rooftops just a few yards away. Black and blue suit, still as light as day even under the moon’s not so generous shine. You smiled at him.

All the way over to the other side, on the roads underneath, you heard the harsh thunder of a motorcycle battling the cries of the uncontrolled flames. Red Hood wheeled up so he could drive past a blockage on the road, which you hadn’t known was from Flynns or the police themselves, but people were surrounding it, and at Jason’s warning, they made way for him to drive past the blockage, actually leaping with the vehicle in the air until his wheels slammed onto the cement.

You could do this. Two. Maybe even three blocks worth of fire.

If it weren’t from suspicion from a hallucinogen or some mirage from how large the fire had become, you could have sworn you saw three duplicates of Firefly, aiming their flamethrowers at the many windows of wood, stone, and steel.

“Firefly has goons now?”

“Seems so,” Nightwing said. “You guys got a plan?”

You and Tim stuck your grappling hooks onto the last rooftop’s ledge and jumped off the building. When you were on the ground, on the street right in front of the fire department that had your skin, eyes, and hair feel like it was burning down to your bones, Nightwing landed gracefully on your side, and Red Hood carelessly drifted on the road, jumping off his seat to join the rest of you and assess this rather difficult situation.

“There are people still in there,” Red Hood said. “I can see them.”

“We have to go save them first.”

“Firefly’s men-“

One of them, who had a fucking jetpack identical to the crazed pyromaniac’s, hovered over the four of you standing on the side of the road, and it was going for the next building.

“About fifteen civilians inside.” Red Hood finished his scan.

“I’ll save them,” you said. “The rest of you take care of those flies.”

“Absolutely not.” Nightwing’s voice was stern. Not something you wanted to argue with. “You need someone to go with you. None of us should be left alone.”

“I’ll go with her.” Red Robin, always your partner, stepped to your side. “We’ll take care of the people. You and Jason fight off those fireflies.”

Jason clicked his guns. “Promise I’ll play nice.”

Dick eyed Tim. A solid, knowing glance, then he turned to you.

“Be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Everyone.” Tim picked up his Bo staff. “Move!”

Your wings wouldn’t be of any use. Not when you’d have to work in a building aflame. Your wings weren’t very fireproof. So with your skintight, cape-less suit looking similar to Dick’s, you and Tim both flung yourselves up from windows and lampposts until you reached an entryway that didn’t burn you at first contact.

You scanned the place. There. A few rooms away. Two bodies huddled together. You went straight for the door until Tim grabbed you by the back of your suit and pulled you away.

Just in time, before a wooden beam from the ceiling came crashing down the burnt foundation, tearing a hole on the floor where you were standing just then. You stiffed. “Thank you.”

“I said be careful.”

Tim then expertly jumped over the beam, on top of the fallen debris that had fallen to the floor that wouldn’t crumble under his weight or would burn his palms when he pushed himself up, spinning in the air to get across the room. You followed right behind him. If you ignored the smoke you desperately tried to keep off your lungs or your skin about to be burnt off, it wasn’t so different from your vault back at home. You were faster, swifter. Your feet were off the ground for a few good seconds and the rush that went with your movements both cooled down your skin and made the fire around you worse. You caught up to him and soon you reached the end of the room seconds faster than he did.

Red Robin nodded, already trying to pry the door off its damaged hinges when he landed. You helped him.

“Dick-“ he grunted. “-taught you well.”

“Thanks.”

The door broke off, and you surveyed the room. The two bodies. Still breathing. But barely. You and Tim went up to them and he covered their heads with his cape.

“Come now,” you said, and you realized one of them must have been ten years old. He was shivering. The other, not much older.

You and Tim got them out of there and not a patch of their skin had to be burnt off. Hopefully, it’ll be the same for the rest.

Then you went in again. In that building alone, there were three more people inside.

Tim broke down a door with his foot, then you vaulted yourself up on beams to reach places Tim couldn’t, and you came out with a five-year-old girl in your arms. She’d been hiding under her bed. Not the brightest idea. But apparently, fire drills need to be done even at this age.

“Tim,” you coughed through the growing smoke. The poor girl was unconscious but breathing. You covered her head with Tim’s cloak. “Why are there so many kids?”

“Orphanage.”

You wanted to skin Firefly’s burnt flesh. Alive.

An orphanage just a block away from the fire department. And still, it was torn down in flames. You helped the kids out, then went on to the next building.

This one was burning so much more than the last.

The fireflies were here.

As you and Red Robin reached the window, the only available entryway, the wall to your left exploded from the other side and Red Hood broke down that very wall with his weight, landing on his back with the worst profanities that would even make Satan blush spurt out of his mouth.

“A LITTLE HELP HERE?!”

Tim got his staff, and as the menacing, horribly burnt creature flew into the room, a mock-up of wings strapped to his back and even more flames spurting out of his jetpack almost completely obliterating the floor underneath, you used what was left of the wall to your side, pushed both your feet against it so you were flying sideways, then your foot slammed on his head. With him stunned, Tim tore his staff right against his jetpack, unlatching it.

Then you flung it across the room so Jason could shoot at it, exploding before it even reached the ground.

“Where’s Dick!?” you asked.

“Third floor.”

Almost as if on cue, the ceiling above you collapsed, and with the boards and slabs of wood that fell through, a body landed painfully on its back. You ran to the site, looking up. Dick was there.

“Nightwing!” You screamed. “Be careful before you hit someone!”

“Sorry!” Then Dick disappeared.

“Where are the civilians?” you asked.

“Over there.” Jason pointed at a hallway. A quick scan told you the bodies were all over the place. In different rooms.

The windows behind you suddenly burst into flames and eventually detonated. You shielded yourself. Tim and Jason to the ground. When you turned around, another one of Firefly’s goons had their thrower pointed right at your face.

“Falcon!”

You leapt out of sight just in time, and you used the beams to fling yourself up, at the destroyed wall that had now let the colder air in.

A risk, but you took it valiantly. Just like a vault. Nothing different from a vault. You ran, hands to your side, let the wind take you. And you only wished the floor was stable enough, because wishing was all you could rely on. You ran. Then you flipped and your hands were to the floor, placing all your weight to your palms, spinning. Then it was your feet again.

Just at the last ledge, in your true gymnast fashion, your hands pushed you further up in the air, as high as any human could jump up to, then you spread your wings when you reached the peak and soared, right at the combatant that shot his eyes up at the sight of you flying straight at him.

You grabbed him by the throat, wings entangling with your own, then you were a flying mess in the air. His jetpack was already malfunctioning, and you directed it to land straight back to the floor where you came from.

But as soon as you got him back on the ground, the firefly had grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you down so overwhelmingly strong, you needed Tim to smack his head and throw him all the way over to the floor.

“We can't handle these guys alone.”

“But-.”

“Even Jason here’s having a hell of a time.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason snorted. “I’m fine. I’ll try to hold these guys off. Go save everyone.”

He then shot the fly’s jetpack with his explosive bullets, and the light detonation threw him towards a wall.

“Jason!”

“He’s still fucking breathing!”

You panted, the surging nerves, the numbness of your fingertips still there. Jason took care of the fly and hauled him out of sight.

“Come on.”

You went to the rooms, broke down the doors and walls almost with just your foot alone. Two. Three. Four people. A college student. A lone middle-aged man. And in a room far too small for anyone to possibly, humanely live in, a single mother cradling her baby she didn’t even know was still alive. So close to having the smoke take over her lungs, you grabbed the baby with one hand, her arm over your shoulder with the other, then she limped with you as Tim held a small child in his arms, carrying them all out to safety.

The fire was getting worse, and from above, you heard Dick’s screams from being thrown around above you.

You won't have much time before this whole building gives out.

Then, just as you thought you’d cleared the last room, you heard a cry from one of another one of the rooms, the one at the farthest end that had no scans of a body just minutes ago. Now, you saw there was.

And the body was too small for you to notice the first time.

You turned up your scanners, really looked around, for anything else you might have missed. Anything small.

Shit. Another. To the other end of the hall. It looked like an adult, curled up in the corner of his room under a table. Why would he hide under a table in a fucking fire!?

“Falcon!” Tim came up to your side. “You see anyone else?!”

“One there. And another on that side. Let’s take that one first,” you nodded at the door with the child behind it.

“No. There’s no time.”

You both dodged a piece of a ceiling that had fallen in just a foot away from where you stood. Dick. Being mauled too close to death just above you.

“I take him,” Tim said. “You get the child.”

“Tim, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Another piece of wood from the ceiling. Gone. The wall near you had burnt to a crisp, which made it hurt less when Jason was flung to the ground by another firefly just where the wall used to be.

“We don’t have time to come back for both.”

“And if we don’t, we die!” you said. “I can't leave you alone, Tim.”

“Everyone should be saved. I’ll be fast, then I’ll be right there with you. I promise.”

Tim pushed you to the door, and already he was on the way to the end of the hall. “Be careful!” he screamed at you. With your fists clenched, hoping this wouldn’t backfire on him anytime tonight, you rushed for the child.

“You fucking mosquito son of a bitch!” Jason yelled as his guns went into this uncontrollable frenzy. All over the walls, the floor, anywhere. Just so he’d finally put that flying bastard to the ground. It shot its thrower at Red Hood’s face and so narrowly did he dodge the flames.

He rolled on the ground, eyed the attacker like it was a bomb to defuse. Another shot from his flame thrower, just one good shot, and there will be no other way for him to turn to but even more fire, and it’ll possibly collapse the whole room.

So Red Hood shot at his gun, at his arms. Finally, he got it to drop the weapon to the ground.

Jason grabbed the firefly by the throat as soon as he’d shot down his jetpack, and he flung him across the other side of the debris to trap him, the barricades, to the hallway of rooms where you’d gone into. He stays there long enough and he’d definitely catch on fire. And even if it didn’t, he needed it to be kept away. There were more flies for him to take care of. And they were, quite literally, flying towards him like moths.

A thud, coming from the ceiling above.

Up a floor, Dick wasn’t handling it any better.

Nightwing smashed his escrima sticks against a firefly’s temples, then gave it just enough voltage to stun him. He kicked him off his body, smashing his back against the already charred wall that broke upon impact, but it didn’t take him down. Not yet. Just his ability to fly.

The firefly stood up, snarling much like an animal, then clicked his thrower to point it at Dick. He was leaping, swiftly and gracefully around the smoke-infested debris just to not get burnt.

Dick was finally close enough to grab him by the collar, flinging it over his shoulder, smashing his body against the weakening ground.

But the firefly was too strong, and not long after, he had Nightwing choked to the floor. He had him held down. Dick landed a hit to his face, or what he could see of his face through the mask, then the firefly hit him back. Another. Another. Each time, the floor started to break underneath.

Outside, all alone because he insisted, Tim had safely made his way through the flames.

Always. Every night, by your side. You never left it. Not when it meant his life. Tim was outside, cape to his nose, and he left the building so he could take the nearly unconscious man to the safety grounds away from the smoke. But when he’d come back, pieces of wood had fallen in the hallway where you’d go into and had barricaded the way. You were on the other side. He’d left you alone.

Alone, amid the worst fire you’ve ever had to work through, you coughed out even more of the smoke, tears in your eyes, then broke down the last door in three slams against your shoulder. You were weak, flailing, your chest twisting at the heat and the smoke. But you do not fall. Instead, you push yourself further. Harder.

But it wasn��t anything at all you thought you could handle. You didn’t think you’d be alone in the room where the fire had started. The epicenter. The one so fully engulfed, there was almost no place at all for you to walk on.

You grabbed the child’s unconscious body. He might have been dead by then. He felt lifeless. But as you were on your knees, you almost could not stand. Your weight was too much, and the fire too close to your skin. For a moment, when the pain in your throat and chest came to the very worst, your body started to give out.

At that moment, three things happened. Three things that should never, ever have happened at the same time.

One of the fireflies, the one Jason had thrown right at you and had trapped behind the barricaded debris, picked himself up and saw you from out the hallway. You heard him growl despite the scorching flame.

The ceiling, already so charred, broken, burnt, mists of wooden shards falling right down to your hair. The fighting that went on upstairs was causing it. You couldn’t stay there long. You had to get out before the ceiling collapses. Fast.

And, on top of all that, with the fire that grew worse, your chest twisting, a child almost lifeless in your hands, you were alone. No one was there to help you.

You gained enough consciousness to push the last of your strength. You could do this. You knew you could. If you could just hold on a bit longer, with the child in your arms, and go out the same way you came in, it’d be fine.

But just as you pulled yourself up your feet, the firefly was lunging straight for you.

The child was dead. A boy of six. You were sure of that when something so much larger and stronger than you, that very man who no longer looked like a man, who looked more like a burnt corpse dressed as a moth without wings, lunged at you and grabbed you by the neck. You dropped the child’s body, and the way its limbs were so twisted when he hit the floor, it almost hurt as much as when you were slammed against the wall.

Flashes of red, white, yellow, and even black, the color that scared you the most when it came to circumstances like these, it was all you could see past the gritted teeth that exposed themselves so horribly to you when his mask had been taken down. He was wounded, yet he had the strength to do this, to squeeze your throat so rigidly that in the matter of a few minutes, at least to you, it lasted a few minutes, you were as blue as the night sky. A horrible color when it came to skin.

You wanted so badly to scream, but even if you did, it wouldn’t be of any use. You were alone. And with so much holding you back from just being able to breathe, you couldn’t hear a thing. Not your limbs squirming about, not the man holding your throat crying to let out the smoke from his own lungs, not the fire nor the collapse of the walls. No one had found you yet, and your bones and muscles alike had barely enough will in them to do so much more than just flailing so meagerly. Your lungs, your neck, your throat. It wasn’t enough that you were choking on smoke and debris, his clutch on your flesh gripped on as if none of the flames had any sort of effect at all.

Then.

Then there was the ceiling.

Whoever was up there, he was getting beat up. Hard. And it was making it break even worse. You felt the wood’s dust fall to your eyes. You had to move out of the way, but you couldn’t. No one to help you. No one to help you flee.

Just before that horrific flashes of black and surprisingly inviting, riveting flashes of white overcame everything else your eyes could still pick up, just before that tightening in your neck became less of a pain and felt more of a descent, a slow, painful descent, it all stopped.

You could see color. You could see the flames. The charred wood. The scattered cement from the walls. You could hear it all again. That scorch. That rage. The screams from the onlooking civilians. And the pain was gone. You could breathe. There wasn’t a hand on your throat any longer.

And it all lasted not more than a second. Half of it. A quarter of it even. Still, you felt it, not knowing it might have been your last.

The ceiling above you collapsed.

So did the wall you were being slammed against.

Huge slabs of wood, beams for support, floorboards from the level above, it all came crashing down as if apologetic for the delay, because they weren’t unforeseen. They were expected. You just didn’t get to move away in time.

It hit the firefly’s head the second the first slab tumbled down, and the rest of it followed. With how you fell, and the wall behind you breaking as well, your back was on the floor. But that wasn’t what hurt. Not even a little.

No.

Not when a sizable wooden beam in flames, one that held up the ceiling before it collapsed, fell in and crushed the bones of your leg.

You’d never forget it.

You never thought it was possible for there to be so much pain, not even when it was necessary. And a lot of the time, all the time, in fact, it was necessary. This time, it must have been. It must have been for a purpose. To defeat a foe. To save a life. It had to be.

Because the way that immeasurable weight hit your shin, breaking your tibia in half and twisting it in a way that was far too horrific for any onlooking eyes, you saw it. You saw everything. And God, have you never seen anything so horrifying before.

Then the flames from the beam had spread to your leg. Your suit. Your flesh. That, you felt for a short, agonizing few seconds.

Then, the pain from the burn completely disappeared. Your skin had gone.

Your scream right then, a deathly, ghostly scream, was the worst thing that could have ever heard in your life.

And that scream was what saved you. Otherwise, no one would have known you were there.

Otherwise, not Red Robin, Nightwing, nor Red Hood would have found you, even when it was far too late.

“FALCON!”

“Y/N!”

“NO!!!”

-----

Even in such a drug-induced, near unconscious state, you were aware.

Even with your eyes closed, and your brain playing lighter, less heartbreaking scenes for you to go over in your sleep, you were aware.

Even with everything being nothing more than a blur, the sounds, the lights, the chattering included,

Somehow, you were aware.

You were aware enough to know you’ve been here, on this very bed, for more than a week, and that since then, you haven’t opened your eyes, much less muttered even a syllable for anyone to hear.

You were aware that there were people around you. Sometimes just one, two, mostly three. Three men? Unclear. Often, lots of times, there were more. Different color hair. Different voices. Some sweet. Some deep. Some roughed up and husky. Some nothing more than a whisper.

All of them bearing the same guilt, pity, sadness.

You were aware things weren’t looking so good. Not with a cast over your neck, when you couldn’t even turn to your side when the bruises hurt as much as a tight squeeze. And because of that, when you did manage to open your eyes to some extent, you couldn’t see what went on below your waist.

And judging from what you could see on the ceiling, the murmurs around you, the occasions when you could see the looks on the visitors’ faces, straps holding up your elevated leg, you knew it couldn’t possibly be what you’d expect.

You weren’t awake yet. But you knew where you were. You were aware of what happened. Sometimes you could hear the voices so clearly you felt so close to just talking back. But that couldn’t be, because you were unconscious.

Damn everything.

Damn it all.

Why couldn’t you just be asleep enough to not witness any of this at all?

The last thing you saw, before your eyelids were weighed down by some unimaginable force, was the slightly matted window on the door where you saw Tim’s head facing his brothers’. They were talking.

You couldn’t hear what they said.

But if you could, it wouldn’t have made things at all better.

Tim couldn’t keep his eyes away from you, looking into that window to save his own life and watching you get lost in this illusion of peace, this illusion that taught the people around you that nothing was screaming at all, when in fact you hadn’t stopped screaming since that beam fell. He saw the cast, no longer the shape of a foot, and it hurt all the more to keep seeing it absorb itself into reality.

Jason was right beside that door. He visited just as much as the rest of them. Them being Tim and Dick. But he couldn’t look at you. Not for a second. He hasn’t even turned his head at your direction for more than what he needs to. And he rarely needed to, so he pressed his back against that white wall and let his weight slump him down. He hasn’t talked much. He hasn’t spoken at all.

Dick stood in front of the two, facing the door. He had his arms up to hug his chest. He did not sleep. Not for many nights. He was as bad as Tim now. His once so mesmerizingly bright eyes now stared so dimly and emptily at the white paint, he must have thought to say something, anything, to let out what everyone was thinking right then.

But instead of a word, the first word that day, he ended up catching Jason’s eyes, who glared back the minute he caught Dick watching him for too long.

“The fuck you looking at?”

Dick shook his head, then he let his attention get drawn away yet again by the floor.

“Fuck,” Jason mumbled, then his hand was too harsh on his hair. “Fuck this. I’m tired.”

Dick scoffed at that. “Go ahead. Go home and disappear for three weeks.”

“I meant that I needed to sleep after staying up the past thirty hours, shithead.”

He didn’t face Jason despite him and his nerves popping out of his skin like he desperately wanted to squeeze his eyeballs out of his sockets.

Tim, on the other hand, didn’t even do so much as look at his brothers when he heard them bicker. He just stared at you, how silent and peaceful you looked. Still unknowing.

“How…” Tim swallowed. “How did we let this happen…”

Jason watched the dark corner of the opened supply closet nearby. Dick turned his head the other way, eyes seemingly closed as he listened to the cart being wheeled right past them. That, the scent of ethyl alcohol, the chilling white paint, the flush of cold, and the beeping sound coming from somewhere down the hall, it was all anyone could sense, especially when in so deep in thought.

“We should have… I should have-” Tim finally brought himself to look away from the window. “I should never have let her out of my sight-”

Dick pulled on his shoulder. “Tim-“

“Don’t tell me it isn’t my fault.”

“But it isn’t your fault.”

“I said don’t tell me that!”

He swatted Dick’s hand away and placed his deep into his hood where no one would be able to touch him.

“You think that, too,” Jason chewed on his cheek. “Don’t you Dick?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Blame him?”

He was probably so close to just lunging at Jason just then but he didn’t. Not here. Dick just snarled at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You do,” Tim said. “I know you do. You look at me and Jason like we’re poison.”

Jason shrugged. Dick didn’t know what to say. “Like you two don’t look the same at me.”

“Admit it,” Jason stood from the wall. “You blame us for what happened.”

“I never fucking said that,” Dick growled.

“Good,” he said. “Because so do I.”

“You blame us?”

Jason had his teeth gritted so much they would have broken.

“We all blame something. It’s too hard to admit. But none of us should have to,” Tim whispered. “It was an accident.”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if not for us.” Dick chewed on his knuckles, and Jason stood taller, sighing and raising his hands like this ‘point proven’ sort of gesture.

Tim looked back at you again.

“She’ll never forgive us.”

“She wouldn’t have to,” Jason said. “She’ll blame herself.”

“That makes this even harder,” Dick hissed when his teeth dug into his flesh too much. “She has to blame us. At least. It’ll be better for her.”

“Maybe she should be blaming us because we are to blame.”

The silence that followed after was sharp enough to cut glass. Tim grabbed all the hair in his head and pulled, grunting, hissing, gritting his teeth, letting the tears slowly seep.

“Tim-“

Tim laid against the wall. He wasn’t as tired as the two. Staying up for two days wasn’t so much as a change for him. So he had the energy to cry, while Dick and Jason could barely hold themselves up, no matter how much they looked like they wanted to break down themselves.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tim held his head. “I let this happen to her. I left her alone-“

“Tim, you have to stop-“

“Are you convincing him that it wasn’t his fault, Grayson?” Jason stammered. “Or are you talking to yourself?”

“Jason, will you just shut up-“

“You wanna live in this delusion?” He cried. “Go ahead. But you're not doing anything better for him.”

“I am trying to make sure our brother doesn’t beat himself up for something he didn’t do

“And what do you know about what he did? You weren’t there. You were all the way up on the third floor not having a clue what went on.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Todd?”

“You know what. I’m saying this,” he raised his arms and turned from Dick to Tim, then back again. “I’m done keeping silent. That beam fell on her leg because you were up there making the goddamn ceiling fall in.”

“You son of a bitch-” Dick pushed Jason’s chest.

“She even told you to be careful up there,” Jason said. “You didn’t listen.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?!”

“So you’d know you’re not the only one who knows all that.”

“And why is that, huh?” Dick stood him off, chin up high. “Why’d you bring that up? To lighten the weight on your chest? Tell yourself it wasn’t just your fault and that fucking firefly you threw right at her?”

Tim had been silent since Jason mentioned the wooden beam, but by then, his face had shot up and he was staring at the two squaring off.

“You might as well have handed Y/N right into his clammy hands. You threw him over that barricade he couldn’t escape from. Right after you told her you’d keep them off.”

Jason looked like he could break stone with the ghostly look he gave his brother.

“I didn’t fucking know she was there.”

“Then where else would she have been? You told her to save everyone in the building. And you knew she and Tim needed your help keeping them off.”

Jason shoved Dick in the chest. “You don’t think I fucking know that you-“

“Wait.”

Tim’s voice stayed soft, though it was solid. When he looked up at his brothers, faces flushed and just as full of shame as it was so full of rage for the other, Tim stuttered.

“You two caused this to happen?”

What should have been apologies, or mutters, reasons, excuses, fights to be right again, convictions for their truths, perhaps even lies, Dick stared back and his mouth fell shut. Jason got his hands off him, placed them on his sides. He was silent, too.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

For once, Jason looked at Dick and it wasn’t so murderous.

“Dick-“

His big brother. The one closest to him. He should have been the one to tell him everything. He might have expected this from Jason. But not Dick.

But they had the same silence, the same guilt-stricken, awfully dark, hooded eyes.

Dick started. “You didn’t… You…” He looked around to make it easier. “You were taking all this harder than the rest of us.”

“Clearly, so should you!”

Tim has never raised his voice before. That wasn’t even much of a scream. But his voice cracked, and there were tears at the ends of his mouth.

“Tim-“

“I thought I was the only one to fucking blame,” Tim stammered. He wouldn’t say this. Not when he was calm. Not when it didn’t involve you. He was always so quiet. The one at the corner finding a place to take a nap. Not the one to accuse. To point fingers. To lash his anger out on others.

“I almost went fucking insane the past week. Now you tell me you two were the root of it all?”

This shouldn’t have to be what he felt. This was just his own guilt taking control. He wouldn’t burden others with such blame to lug around.

“Listen, I-“

“The beam that fell, and that fucking goon that held her down from escaping-“

“Tim, it still would have been a hell of a lot better if you were there,” Jason said.

“If you weren’t there at all, none of this would have happened!”

“Oh!” Jason cried. “Okay. It’s all my fault because I did exactly what was agreed on by the team while you left her alone when she shouldn’t be?!”

“Jason -“

“Everyone knows Y/N almost never leaves your side in combat. She always had you. She was better as your protector, which means she’ll never willingly leave you alone.”

Tim’s tears had fallen to his chin. It was too much out of his control. Too much out of anyone’s control.

“I swear if you don’t shut up right fucking now-“

“You’ll what, Grayson?!” Jason pushed Tim aside and eyed Dick down. “Fine. Blame me. If it does you any better, salvage whatever light she’ll see you in, give you more of a fighting chance with her, huh?”

Dick never looked so badly like wanted to tackle Jason to the ground. He never told Jason about you. He shouldn’t have known, but of course, he knew. “You can't possibly allow her to look at you like you cut off her fucking leg-“

Tim was giving Dick that same look. Dead. He was dead to him.

“This has nothing to do with that-“ Dick pushed him back.

“You caused that fucking beam to fall that snapped her bones and burnt off her flesh-“

“Because that fucking firefly you lead to her held her down! She could have escaped!”

“I told you-“

“You didn’t know where she was?!” Dick cried. “She wasn’t anywhere around you. She only could have been in one fucking place. Behind the barricade. In the apartments. You knew she was there. Maybe you thought you killed that firefly when you threw it off. Maybe you thought it wouldn’t reach her. Or, maybe, you just didn’t care. You didn’t think about how she’d be able to handle it. And even if it did cross your mind, you probably thought she could fight it off on her own!“

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I thought in the middle of a fucking fire.”

“Then don’t patronize me ‘cuz I didn’t have fucking pillows around when I got mauled by a bug and not break the ceiling! Or Tim for thinking saving a life was worth risking their own!”

“WELL THEN, I hope you two think it was fucking worth it.” Jason pointed at the window, at the sight of you so motionless on the bed.

“If I didn’t know how much of a pain in the ass you are when your guilt is eating you up, Jason-” Dick stuck his finger against Jason’s temple and he pushed it aside. “I wouldn’t let you hear the end of this.”

“Is this a threat, Grayson?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Dick, stop-“

“Stay out of this, Tim.” Dick pushed him aside, and Tim shoved him back even harder so he’d hit the wall. Even Jason looked surprised at him.

“I’m not a kid, Dick.”

Even more so would they have fought, right in that very hallway in Elliot Memorial, if not for Bruce Wayne stepping out of the room, only in his sweats, and he shot every single one of them the dirtiest look.

He blamed himself, too. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here so much. Not when you weren’t one of his adopted kids, not when he had to sit in that room for hours with your own parents nearby, crying, wondering what happened, not having a clue who their daughter even was.

This wasn’t the first time. Even when you weren’t his child, it was the same as when Babs got shot in the spine.

He never let himself hear the end of it. Bruce blamed himself.

Bruce blamed himself for ever trusting Dick, Jason, and Tim to make sure you’d be ok.

“She’s awake.”

The three of them stood still, staring back at Bruce who couldn’t give them a colder look. One so full of hidden resentment, one he tried to hide. But it was all clear, even from those two words alone. He might as well have spelled it out for them.

‘You are all to blame. All three of you. Even if just one of you wasn’t so careless, this wouldn’t have happened.’

He might as well have said that. He should have said that. They needed that kind of reality being thrown right at their denial. They needed that push.

When he left, already it had shifted.

They were going to have to face you now, actually look at you in the eye, and you wouldn’t have to be told. You already knew why this all came to be. There wouldn’t be any use in an argument, evidence, technicalities, bickering. All that shoving and yelling. It’ll all be for nothing.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much the brothers wouldn’t want to accept this kind of spilled blood anywhere near their skin, it’ll always be true. The only person they blame the most, more than the others, will always be themselves.

Dick, for not even thinking of being so careful with the collapsing floor, even after you told him to. He should have taken it to the second. Maybe on the street.

Jason, for letting that firefly loose, because he was too confident you’d be able to handle it on your own.

And Tim, for not just letting you go alone, but insisting that he not go with you even when you pleaded. Because he thought he’d stop at nothing to save as many lives. He didn’t think about you.

Being in the midst of fire won't cut it.

Dick broke the silence first.

“I’m sorry…”

Tim and Jason couldn’t look at him. Jason faced his own feet. Tim at the door. His face was soft. No longer so rageful.

Tim spoke next. “I’m sorry, too.”

This was about as much affection, affection as it was, that they’d ever shown each other. Jason tried to brush it off by rolling his eyes, keeping his face out of view so no one would see his face trembling.

“Yeah… sorry…”

This was all there is. Guilt.

They can blame whoever they want. It’ll all stem back to their own self-blame that was chipping their flesh away like maggots.

Tim took the first step to the door, heading into the room, and Jason and Dick followed right behind him.

They couldn’t go anywhere near you. Not like this. Not even when they were the boldest. They couldn’t. The cowards they were stood the farthest, lined up a few feet away from the foot of your hospital bed.

They couldn’t possibly face you, not when just minutes after you’d woken up, already your cheeks were soaked and your cries eerie and painful. Your eyes were swollen, neck held back with a cast.

Barbara held you in her arms. Barbara. Of course, it would be Barbara. The only one in the family who knew what it was like to wake up in a hospital and so suddenly lose a bodily function, something so simple as to walk, and not be able to do it just like everybody else. Not being complete anymore. Not be whole.

She was a few of the lucky ones to find that clinic in Africa that gave her that implant. You, on the other hand, probably won't be so lucky.

You. You woke up in that bed, and you didn’t have to hear anything from their conversation outside. You knew exactly what they talked about. You were aware. You didn’t have to hear any part of it or even see the expressions they bore.

That moment you sat up, just enough so you could see just how much damage had been done.

Your right leg had burns. Red marks, scattered all over your skin and ones you knew wouldn’t heal so lightly. You’re to see them for the rest of your life, and you’ll never escape it. The burns went all the way down your toes.

But not even that worried you. You couldn’t care any less about your skin. At least, you actually still had toes on your right leg.

The left one.

The left leg.

You didn’t have one anymore.

You had two thighs.

You had two knees.

One shin, one calf behind it.

Five toes at the end. Burnt as they were.

And the other.

Nothing. Air.

A stub. A useless, ugly stub, sticking out just three inches from your knee. You couldn’t even feel it sting, not when you could obviously see just how much had to be cut off.

Then.

You screamed again.

From a few feet away from the foot of your bed, Tim was in tears, wanting so badly to come to your aid and hold you. Jason looked smaller, despite being the tallest in the room. Right then, he shrank himself from the shame. And Dick. He was shaking. For once, he didn’t know what to do.

Barbara’s soft arms held you so tight, but none of it could muffle your cries.

-----

Could one blame you?

If they’d just known the whole story?

Even after two years, two horrible, spectacular, overly eventful years that passed by all too slow and too fast,

Even after you’d gotten over the nightmares that came and went when you couldn’t sleep without feeling that flame surge past your flesh,

Could you even blame yourself? For not knowing who to trust? To open up to?

Could anyone blame you for being so god-awfully confused, now that you admit to being confused, and so indecisive? For not knowing what, or who would bring you to that eventual happiness?

Could anyone blame you for wanting some kind of release to let all this go, and find that release as yet another option to oblivion? Could you blame yourself for being so desperate, stupid, so careful, just to allow yourself to move on, at the same time convince everyone else that you had?

The only thing you had for yourself after all that were your paints and canvases. They could only have done so much.

But now, with you in front of the Wayne Manor’s staircase fixing up the last of your canvases on a presentable easel, it had gradually felt like it was, in fact, enough.

Tonight, at almost six in the evening, you’d set up twelve of your newest works, the best you’ve ever made. Gotham skylines. Portraits of unknown faces. Hillside landscapes. Action shots you’ve taken from around the city and copied.

You fixed the last one, just as Bruce came up to the foyer with an outstretched smile the moment he saw what you’d fixed. That man rarely smiles.

He eyed them all, more carefully this time, paying attention to detail. You explaining those details when he didn’t catch them. You explaining each of your pieces. Him nodding approvingly.

“This will be a great for everyone, Y/N.”

A smile. “Thank you.”

“And it’ll be amazing for the children most of all.” Bruce kept his eyes on the portrait of an unknown woman with beautiful dark skin. “Will you really give everything away?”

“Everything,” you said. “I won't keep a cent. This is what the auction’s for.”

Bruce beamed at you with so much pride, probably just as much, maybe even more, than he’s given his own children.

Not long after, he left and had Alfred help you out with putting everything back in your satchel. You were smiling. You hadn’t stopped smiling for a while.

You placed the first easel and canvas back into the bag that you’d laid in the staircase just as you heard rumbling footsteps coming from directly above. And just as you thought they’d get nearer, they stopped.

You looked up, and it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected, nor prepared for.

Dick, however, looked surprised in the least. His hand on the railing caressed the gentle wood as well, motionless the moment he caught your eye. You were calm, serene, and somehow, that smile didn’t even leave when you met his gaze.

His mouth parted open, and by then you didn’t want to just stand around. You nodded at Dick, silently, then you went back to the second easel.

“This dastardly thing,” Alfred muttered. You laughed and started to walk over to him, if not for Dick and his strides longer than yours.

“Here, Alf.” He helped the old man with the knob. It folded right away. Alfred rolled his eyes. “I can take it from here,” Dick said.

Alfred raised his hands, landing harshly at his sides. “I never could work any of those contraptions.” You found yourself feeling warmer at that sight of how gently he’d helped him and handled the knobs. You worked in silence. He did, too. He did not speak. Neither did you.

But even after such a high-strung chain of events, and the drastic way it all had to culminate, with you right back to where you started, there wasn’t at all a feeling of torment, awkwardness. Sure, it wasn’t all the same. You weren’t as close. The laughs felt a bit off. You didn’t hold his hand anymore and maybe you didn’t let your gazes linger for too long when he was so brightly lit by the sun or even just a single bulb. But you were friends. You were there. It was more, so much more, than how it could have ended.

You twisted the knob for the last easel, crouching down, but the base wouldn’t stop hiking up from the ground. You pulled your hair back, squinted, then as a shadow blocked your light, you looked up. Dick was there. He was smiling at you and he held the top of the easel down so it wouldn’t move when you unhooked the knob.

You smiled at him. Softly. Sweetly. He smiled back at you and it kept with the current of that growing peace. He held the easel, and you the canvas, when you went over to your satchel to stick it inside.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You placed the satchel at the side of the staircase, away from the steps. Dick watched you with his head down intently. Then when you made your way up, hand on the railing, you heard him speak just when you thought he had nothing else to say.

“I’m watching Bruce Almighty tomorrow morning.”

You turned to face him, and that bashful grin made you want to chuckle. You allowed yourself to.

“I’d love to join you.”

Another nod, silent, then you went up the stairs. You heard him go to the parlor.

Peace. This must be it. Peace.

Four months of peace, since any other incident happened. This was what you needed. Time to think. A chance to know what things were, what you were.

Because all there was that replaced that hurricane beneath your chest was this bright, breezy whirlwind that instead cooled down those very thoughts.

You reached Tim’s room, knocked three times, and stepped in immediately taking off your sweater.

Tim was leaning against the headboard and had his laptop resting uncomfortably on top of his lap.

“Tim,” you groaned. “You're not working are you?”

“Nah. Among Us streams.”

You snorted and picked your phone out of your pocket, scrambling to his side. Tim shifted, giving you some room, then when you settled beside him, he laid his head on your shoulder. He kept his eyes on his laptop and you made sure he didn’t change so much as a tab. Four months of seeing his sleep schedule back on track, his coffee a tenth from before, and his workload split in half, it calmed you to see him this way. It even made his skin glow.

As he kept his eyes on the screen, you pulled out your phone, with that expected twinge of disappointment when you saw you haven’t a message, the same for so many weeks.

You opened your texts anyway, just to make sure.

You: ‘Hey. It’s been a while. Call me?’ (12 weeks ago)

You: ‘Jason. It’s me. You didn’t change your number again, did you? (11 weeks ago)

You: ‘I guess you did. I’ll keep texting anyway. No one’s heard anything from you in so long.’ (9 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey. Call me? We heard it got bloody in that raid yesterday. I hope you're alright.’ (6 weeks ago)

You: ‘Hey.’ (2 weeks ago)

That was it so far. You didn’t want to bother him. He didn’t want to be bothered.

But, just today, you let yourself annoy him. Even for just that day in August.

You: ‘Happy birthday, Jason.’

Peace. With everyone. With yourself.

You needed those months to know what it was like to not have any of them at all. To just be a friend. Not a lover.

You let your head fall on top of Tim’s.

A few hours later, you jumped at a ring on your phone. You glanced at it, eyes squinted. It was almost midnight.

Jason: ‘Thanks.’

So much of a smile, and a gentle spike up beneath your chest, when you stared at that message for so many minutes. Partly to let that warmth linger. Mostly out of surprise.

Peace.

You knew there was peace.

But peace did not mean fulfillment.

You still couldn’t tell anyone what you needed, what would hurt less, what choice you were supposed to make.

Because it wasn’t about that anymore.

This was you. This was time for yourself. Four months of not even pining or thinking about boys, working on your pieces, not mulling over your unrequited love or your broken heart or your broken memories or that sheer memory of what happiness used to mean to you. You never needed that. It was you, and every unfortunate event that life had forced into you, that made you so confused.

You still couldn’t make a choice right now, but you weren’t confused anymore. It wasn’t about what you needed, and you didn’t need any of them. Those four months told you so.

But you did want to have love. Eventually. Soon. One that lasts.

Eventual happiness, the ones that can only come from loving and being loved by another, from family, you knew could only be found within them. Dick, Tim, and Jason. You knew it was one of them. For so long as you could think, you knew you couldn’t find that kind of happiness elsewhere. You couldn’t imagine loving another.

Which means, with the peace you had in you now, calming the once tyrannic tides you’ve been forced to reckon with, you knew your heart was there, with one of them. The challenge will be to find out who.

And from now on, you knew you had to choose, and actually think about who to choose, and no longer will it be about whoever lessens the pain, to give in to pressures, to the overwhelming declarations, the to release that pent up whatever’s. This time, in your state of peace, you will figure out who you loved and will stay in love with for the rest of your life. Solely. Wholeheartedly.

You will choose for love.

No longer to just go with the tides.

The tides, you realized, had been there since that very night. That night you had to get your left leg amputated because so much of your flesh had been burnt and your bones were beyond repair.

The tides, you realized, had stemmed from not just your hatred for yourself, for that blame that inevitably crowded your already populated mind, but had stemmed from their guilt. All three of them, because of how much they blamed themselves and how much they let it destroy them just as much as it destroyed you. Because of that, of how they let their resentment for each other and themselves get the better of them, drive them to do so many things they wouldn’t be so proud of, which made that start of the year so hellish. It was all of you. Your anguish for yourself. Their resentment for their self-blame.

Dick not knowing how to treat you right after, treating you differently, treating you like you couldn’t care for yourself. Almost getting married, then later not. Spending too much time with you, then not making a move. You assuming what was worst, then so suddenly, him pouring out his heart just before he was asked to leave town and not see you again.

Jason keeping his distance, staying away, not even calling in the holidays when he wasn’t around, and only ever calling any of you when he absolutely had to or felt like it. Knowing what his brothers felt, and knowingly inching himself closer to you when he saw you hadn’t chosen either just yet. Taking advantage of your vulnerability to quench his desires. Almost using you to get back at them. Then breaking your heart.

Tim trying too hard to make it up to you, buying so many of your paintings even when it wasn’t so necessary when he knew you wouldn’t decline. Confessing his love that night after Dick’s wedding, when you hadn’t a word to say back. Confessing his love for you again, kissing you on Christmas Eve, even after how much he’d hurt you before. You unknowingly choosing him, only for him to make that decision for you and drive you away, even when he thought it was best.

But then, of course, there was more. So much more than just that.

These vicious tides, caused by a disturbance, an accident that wasn’t so often deemed an accident, were not alone, it not for the chilling breeze that went with it, the moon that pulled them that was silent and beautiful, the shoreline that remained unmoving, warm to the toes when it needed to be. The rustling of trees. The ones that surrounded the tides, overpowered them.

Dick not wasting a moment when he saw you upset, filling so many of your days with the kind of contentment you could never bring to yourself. Never missing the littlest things that so much as caused a smirk up your lips, and bringing those details to life to earn that smile. Supporting you the most, with your passion for artistry, your hobbies, the things you loved to do, he pushed you to do. Watching you, caring for you, giving you everything you wanted all for the sake of seeing you happy, even when he should or shouldn’t. Even when you were never his to begin with.

Jason knowing exactly what it was like to be you, understanding that, letting you know that he understood, that you weren’t alone in any of this at all. Knowing he didn’t have much of a chance, stopping himself from falling in too deep for his own sake, but not when it was you who needed him to fall. To at least be with him. Giving you that solitude, letting you know that he, too, wanted to treat you well, wanted you to feel just as beautiful as he thought you were, even when it pains him in the end.

Tim loving you from the moment you met. That sweet, fairytale love story of when you were friends first, and his love that grew from that. Best friend turned lover. Your love story, how you came to be, could all be a novel on its own. Caring for you, staying even after a relationship that hadn’t worked out the first time, knowing you needed him more than anything and anyone there could possibly be. Your partner as heroes, your partner now. Albeit friends or lovers. It didn’t even matter. And after then, even when he loved you so much, still kept your best interests in mind, only ever thought about what was best for you, or what he thought was best for you, all for the sake of you no longer being hurt the way you used to.

That was what surrounded that cruel tide that pulled you back miles away from the shore you just wanted to land on. That tide. That night. The guilt. The blame. The loss. The regrets. Those were the tides, and everything else, it was beautiful.

So now, what will it be? Other than to place it all to the side, forgive that night for what it did to you. move on. No longer will you let it pull you with its current. No longer will you let it get in the way of your happiness. Of their happiness. No longer will you let its lingering darkness settle for too long before it settles for good. No longer will you let the loss of your damned leg cause the loss of your whole life and happiness.

Because of course, they weren’t to blame. Blaming yourself, or someone, would mean they were solely responsible for the penalties that stemmed from what they did, intentional or not. They weren’t responsible. Not even a bit. For what else would it be, other than an unfortunate arrangement and timing of events, something far beyond the control of even the strongest deity. That if the same things done were done differently, would at all be the same. No, they weren’t at fault. They weren’t to blame.

And if you did believe that they were, even in the slightest, then it would be why you’ve been how you had been, how you just couldn’t know, or admit to yourself, who you were to give your heart to. Why you couldn’t open up, afraid that somehow, deep within your own crevices, you hadn’t forgiven them.

But it wouldn’t matter. You have forgiven them, at least now, if they had done anything at all that was to blame. And you didn’t think so. You couldn’t bring yourself to think so. Not when you no longer let that loss be the cause for further pain than it’d already rooted.

No longer, not with who they were, and how they loved you.

Dick, who always had to love you from afar, and never let that love falter despite it being so painful and tempting.

Jason, who had to fight against that love thinking he hadn’t a chance at making you as happy as he knew you could be.

And Tim, who won your heart the first time and gave you these wonderful years as a soul who couldn’t be more perfect beside yours.

They were selfless, gentle, caring young men, who’d bend the world for you if they had to.

One of them, you were sure, will ultimately, wholly, have your heart.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

A/N: The next parts definitely won’t be as heavy as this one, but to those who stayed behind and leave the loveliest comments, know that I’m here at all because of you guys 🎉

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