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lokisprettygirl · 3 months

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Deadly Locks (Detective! Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Non Canon Au) (Dark )

Read Chapter 1 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Summary: Daemon tries to put the clues together to capture the barber killer. Amidst all the torture all you could think about is him.

Trigger Warning: Rape and torture, 18+ , smut, It's a crime thriller so there would be some squeamish dark stuff, read at your own discretion, mention of rape, assault and murder, Speeding and driving under the influence, Reader has long hair, Daemon's hair is up for imagination, Cigarette consumption, some geographical errors

Note : I changed the name of the fic

“How do you know her?” Daemon asked the man sitting in front of him. Pierce Madej was the last man on your call history.

“We teach at the same school” Pierce told him, he was a tall man, with fluffy hair and hazel eyes, you certainly seemed to have a type. He knew he'd have to keep his personal feelings away from this case, any mistake and he'd be taken off the case since he knew one of the victims.

“And you were calling her at 2 am to discuss grades?” There was a snark in his voice as he questioned the visibly nervous man in front of him.

“No it was her birthday, and..uhhh-”

“And?” He raised his brow as Pierce stuttered on his words.

“Well she had finally agreed to go out on a date with me and we were making plans and now she's uhhh—”

His eyes teared up as he thought about you which made Daemon feel conflicted. Did you like this guy? If yes then did you feel anything more for him than just attraction?

“Did she say anything in regards to being stalked or followed? Anything that stood out in the past week or so?”

“Yeah..well last week she mentioned very casually that she thought a vehicle was following her but she didn't seem very nervous about it–”

“Always have been that way..her own safety wasn't really her top priority “ Daemon mumbled under his breath so Pierce stared at him awkwardly,

“You guys will find her right?” he asked Daemon but didn't get an answer in response. Daemon wanted nothing more than to find you but he had reached a dead end again, the killer he was dealing with was too clever.

“Did she happen to mention the type of car she thought was tailing her?”

“Blue Honda i think.. ..she said it seemed very old and rusty as if it hasn't been serviced in a long time”

“Thank you for your cooperation ..stay in the city for a few days” he nodded as Daemon dismissed him.

His day only got worse when he was informed that a woman named Rebecca Malone who lived in the Holywood area has been missing since last week, she didn't have many people in her life and was used to missing work for days before so nobody really cared about reporting it until now. A lock of her hair was found near her residential area, two abductions in a span of a week? That seemed bolder even for him. All of his previous three victims were found a month apart from each other.

“There has been hysteria going on .. beautiful women in their early thirties are cutting their hair short”

Jake said to him which made Daemon chuckle in response.

“Well that's a smart thing to do isn't it?”

Perhaps what you should have done as well.

**********

You opened your eyes and for once there was light in the room and you weren't on the concrete floor but you were on a bed of sorts, your hands were cuffed, they were cuffed. As the man wearing a robbers mask leaned over you, you closed your eyes and tried to disappear in your head again.

“Did you bring it officer” as soon as Daemon entered your bedroom he found you on the bed, you had a very sexy lingerie on and you seemed very much in the mood. You had been begging him to bring the handcuffs home from work for days ever since he had been promoted to the police officer post.

“You're a very naughty girl, you know that?” He asked you as he took his official jacket off, he looked so good in the uniform, so strong, so magnetic, you felt turned on by him every time you put your eyes on him. That's not how he saw himself but you did, he was the prettiest man you had ever known, inside out.

“Well I haven't exactly been following the law.. officer” he smirked as you said that, you lifted your fingers up to shove aside the hair that fell on his forehead but he grabbed your wrist and handcuffed you immediately.

“Ooooh” you let out an yelp as he attached the other cuff to the bed post

“You have the right to remain silent mam” he mumbled playfully to get into the roleplay but there was a mischievous smirk on your face.

“Mmmmhmm..but i didn't really ask for the cuffs to use it on myself…officer”

Eyes stung with tears as you came back to your reality, you could feel the cold air hit your skin as there were no clothes on your body anymore and you could feel him slathering the lotion all over your skin. Again.

“Mmmm i love your skin..it's so soft..you take care of them don't you” his voice gave you goosebumps, you had read about him in the news, you knew he didn't have any good intentions for you and you definitely knew that he intended to kill you at the end, in a very inhumane and brutal way. The last time you struggled against him, he had made you bruise up from head to toe so this time you stayed calm for your own sake.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why why why? You all ask the same question..I hate that you know” his voice came out all whiny, he took his clothes off but the mask stayed on his face, you couldn't see his face but you saw his eyes, hazel eyes, the little detail made you think of Daemon again but the man that was going to rape you wasn't the man you loved. He never would have hurt anyone like this.

“Is that your mother..that woman?” You asked him calmly and he started to laugh,

“Yeah my mother, i love her, do you like her y/n? Do you think she's nice? You have met her quite a few times i assume”

Quite a few times? You had met her twice while she came and sang you a creepy lullaby before she pricked a needle inside you to keep you dazed and confused.

“Not really”

His eyes flickered as you said that, a scream escaped your lips as he entered you with no warning, you were dry as you could be so the penetration really did hurt.

You wanted to hurl, you closed your eyes as he raped you until he was done with his release, you didn't even know how many days it has been but you had been through this two times already and you weren't sure how long he was planning to keep you. Once he was done he used a disinfectant to wipe you down from deep within, he didn't want to leave a single strain of his DNA on you,

“Who's the other girl ..I hear her” you mumbled between your tears so he chuckled,

“You do take it alot better than her..she screams and screams, might as well have to cut her tongue out” he gave you a smile that gave you chills “Or i send her in here..you could be besties with each other, do what girls do huh..Ask her to be quiet when I'm fucking her..that if she's willing to keep her tongue”

He untied your hands and picked up a long dress he had brought with him and dressed you up, it seemed old, perhaps it belonged to his psychopath mother. Then he dragged you towards the corner of the room to chain you up like an animal again.

After that he was gone, the lights went out as soon as he had left the room and you were forced to sleep on the cold hard floor again, your thoughts kept drifting towards Daemon, oh what you'd have done in the moment to find yourself into the warm and safe bed and in his arms.

You felt the weight on the other side of the bed so you turned around to look, he was finally home, ever since he was promoted he didn't really have much time on his hands and you missed him badly.

“Hey there pretty boy” he turned his head and gave you a smile, he seemed exhausted and you could smell the sweet scent of the body wash he had used in the shower.

“I thought you were asleep” he slipped under the duvet and got on top of you to kiss you sweetly,

“I was..but you woke me up”

“Ouch..sorry” you smiled as he said that

“Mmmm you're worth losing sleep for”

“Fuck I'm exhausted my love ..”

“I know.. sweetheart..you want to sleep?” your voice was a melody, melting in his ears like a symphony.

“I want to be inside you..i want to feel you all around me love”

You bit on your lower lip as he said that

“Mmhhmm?” You pulled his cock out of his trousers while he slipped your panties down from under your silk night dress, he moaned in your ears as you rubbed his length over your slit, coating the tip of his cock in your wetness.

He slipped inside slowly until every inch of his cock was stilled deep into you,

“Mmmm ohhh i have missed you my pretty baby ..”

“I love you so much..don't ever leave me” he whispered in your ear as his hips moved in and out of you slowly. His cock was hard and pulsing inside you but his demeanor was always gentle, he was so soft with you, not that you didn't enjoy it when he was rough but more often than not he was so delicate in bed with you, treating you like a queen and you loved that about him, you loved this man who seemed so tall, scruffy and intimidating but deep down was just a boy who needed love and plenty of it.

His movement halted slowly and then it stopped, and that's when you knew he had fallen asleep so you wrapped your arms around his neck which woke him up and he started moving again

“Hey stop ..you can sleep baby i promise..it's okay..it's okay” you cooed softly so he placed his head between the crook of your neck,

“Let me stay in please” his voice was pleading and it made you feel warm in every possible way.

“I'd love that”

You stepped out of your daydreaming as you heard the cries of the woman, she was probably in the room next to you. And then she screamed, as loud as she could. You pressed your hands up to your ears to ignore her wailing but it was in vain, you could hear everything that he was doing to her.

***********

“Mary I need a favor” Daemon said on the phone as he stepped out for his smoke break,

“I am at work Dae, you'll have to wait until the night” she flirted with him and perhaps he would have indulged her if it wasn't for the fear he was living in all the time. Fear of losing you. Fear of never being able to see you again.

Mary was a crime journalist in the Belfast news, he had met her a few months ago because they were working on a case together. One night she had invited him to her place to discuss the case but they ended up having drinks and sex instead. However right from the start he was clear to her about what he wanted, he didn't want a relationship again with anyone else, it wasn't for him, it wasn't going to work like it didn't work with you so their arrangement stayed sexual.

“Mary he has her..I need to find him..i can't –” he took a deep breath in to calm his nerves.

“What do you want me to do? This guy is like a ghost, all the suspects you had your eyes on are not him..he has no record, he leaves nothing behind”

“Blue Honda ..one of y/n’ s friend slash colleague told us that a week ago she was talking about a blue honda following her..it's weird..none of his victims ever mentioned that”

“Yeah because they're dead Daemon “

“But if that was the case at least one of them would have said something to their friends or family prior to the abduction.. none of them said anything about being stalked”

“Alright..what are you thinking then”

“I need to find that vehicle..anyhow”

As soon as he hung up the phone it rang again and it was his mother this time. Again.

“What?” He snapped at her as soon as he picked up.

“That's not how you greet your mother” he chuckled bitterly as he heard the response.

“Well I'm busy right now, do you need something?”

He asked her in a nonchalant manner and then she told him everything she needed from him. When he got inside he was told that your mother was waiting to see him. He wasn't in the mood to see mothers today.

“Daemon” she immediately ran towards him and hugged him, everyone around him stared at him so he pulled the weeping woman away from him and took her to his desk.

She was inconsolable which was given considering the situation. She begged him to find you before it would be too late, the thought of her daughter succumbing to the same fate as those other victims kept her up all night long. She didn't come here to see him as the detective who was handling the case but as the mother of the daughter who had been with him for five years. That was five years of birthdays and festivities that he had spent with you and your family.

She still considered him her family.

Around 10 at night when he stepped out of the precinct the press from several publications cornered him and probed him for information but he didn't have anything to tell them and even if he did he wasn't going to share it with them.

His mum had invited him to dinner and he needed to buy things for her before he could go see her so he drove towards the nearest Tesco. On the way out of the store a man walked past and bumped into his shoulder with an unwanted amount of force which resulted in him dropping the groceries bags.

“Watch out you rascal” he yelled at the man but the man didn't even look back at him, he just kept walking away. Daemon went down to pick up the bags and that's when he noticed the car that pulled out of the parking lot. Blue honda..rusty and unkempt..

He immediately ran towards the vehicle to get a better look but it was too late and he had already sped away, he didn't give up though, he got inside his car and chased the car but he wasn't able to keep up with it. The frustration he felt in that moment was indescribable.

“God dammit” he punched his fist into the steering wheel ..his instincts screamed at him that perhaps he had found the lead that he was looking for.

He went back to the store and looked for the CCTV footage but the killer had his hood up and a mask on his face, even his eyes were covered by glasses. He enquired about his purchase list and all he had bought was a woman's body lotion and a pack of cigarettes. Same ones he got for himself. The cashier wasn't alarmed by that because it was just one bottle. He was clever. Very clever.

He got the footage taken and sent it out for BOLO immediately before he went to his mother's.

She was at the door to hug him and as always he was cold in his response, he forgave her but he didn't forget what she had put him through all his life.

“Oh my babyy what did you do to yourself?” She asked him as she looked at his bruised knuckles but he just shrugged in response and stepped away from her to keep the groceries down on the kitchen table.

“I got everything you asked for..I'm gonna go now”

“No stay for dinner.. please..we will watch a movie”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she said that but he obliged. After his father passed she was all he had in the name of family and then he met you. His scrappy girl, there had been a time in those five years where he took you for granted because he thought you'd always be there with him, maybe that's the mistake he shouldn't have made.

It cost him you.

*********

You cowered in the corner as the door opened again, the psychotic mama entered and she sang you a lullaby like she had done from the past two days.

“You need to stop him, he's your son, how could you let him do this to innocent people?”

You asked her so she gave you a sinister laugh and then she left, about an hour later the man entered with a tray of food and a bottle of water.

“Eat and hydrate, I need you to stay hydrated” he grabbed your chin and shoved a water bottle into your mouth so you had no choice but to drink.

“Daemon Targaryen..he's your lover isn't he?” Your eyes widened and then welled up at the mention of his name “Marlboro reds…this is what he got..was keeping an eye on him” he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket to light one up. In a weird strange way the smell made you feel comforted. You closed your eyes and pretended that he was there with you.

“Can I get one?” You asked him so he started laughing in your face while he blew the smoke.

“It's not good for that perfect little skin you got” Your breath shuddered again as he reminded you what he was planning to do to you.

“What is it with you huh? Mommy issues?” your voice was filled with anger and disdain as you spat at him.

“Don't shrink me you fucking bitch” he brought the burning top of the cigarette right near your eyeball but instead of squeezing them shut you just stared right at it.

This couldn't have been your reality right? Once he was done smoking he made you stand up and took your clothes off before he placed you on your stomach against the wall, he doused you in a bucket of water and he scrubbed every inch of your skin with soap.

After drying your skin he did his routine, he covered you in lotion and then he raped you, you didn't scream ofcourse but she did scream.. again. The other woman he had been torturing, she screamed like you thought you'd have, that's the kind of person you had always been, that's why Daemon called you his scrappy girl.

Then where was the fight in you? Why had you given up so easily? You got up from the floor and looked around but the room offered you nothing but a bed that was out of your reach, you couldn't have done anything even if you tried.

********

“I knew you'd come” Mary smirked as she opened the door to a slightly tipsy Daemon.

“I'm not here to fuck..”

“Sure” she crossed her arms so he glared at her,

“I think he bumped into me on purpose”

“What?” She looked at him shocked as he said that.

“That fucking wretched maniac, he bumped into me on purpose, he's taunting me”

“Hang on Daemon..how do you know it was him?”

“I just know..it's an instinct, it's always been with me, how do you think i went from a traffic police to a homicide detective in seven years?” she gave him a smile as he said that. He surely was something, she couldn't deny the pull she felt towards him and she also couldn't deny the genius that he was in his field.

“What did he look like?” She questioned him as she passed him a glass of wine.

“Like a man, he's tall..he didn't turn around when I hollered at him..but I saw the Blue Honda..old and rusty”

“That doesn't mean he's the killer Daemon..don't get your hopes up”

“Geee thanks for the support I guess”

She placed her drink down on the table as stepped closer to him.

“You need to dial down on the emotions Daemon..you know you can't get your emotions involved –”

“I know that” he looked at her and they had a moment of silence before she leaned into him to kiss him, he was distraught and exhausted and a woman's touch felt nice so he kissed her back but then he thought of you, thought of you being scared and all alone, probably tied and hurt and whatever sexual frustration he felt was gone instantly.

“I can't..I just can't..not today”

“And why is that?”

“Don't ask me dumb questions darling”

“Isn't she the one that did a number on you?”

“Your point?” He glared at her as he pulled her way from him, he did despise you at times for leaving him the way that you did but he didn't hate you, he could never.

He went home that night and looked at every report, every evidence they had found on the victims and the site of the abduction, he surely was missing something but he didn't know what.

And suddenly it clicked. First victim Shonda beau was from Malone, Second victim Nyra Michals was from Ormeau, Third victim Dennis lived in The Holyland, Rebecca was taken from Holywood and finally you Edenderry

Perhaps he was reaching in his assumption but the initials of each area where he found his victims from made an incomplete word --

“Mothe-”

He knew where he'd find the killer next.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist

@daddylokisqueen @iamavailablesstuff @123forgottherest @mcufan72 @shuichiakainx @avalyaaa @ajthefujoshi @tatertati-fangirl @urmomsgirlfriend1

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader angst #daemon targaryen x reader fluff #non canon au #modern day au #modern daemon targaryen #tw kidnapping #tw rape #dark fic

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magicstormfrostfire · 9 months

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Fanfic fanons that are now canon in Monkie Kid!

This is a sequel to my post in 2021 'Things that I have to keep reminding myself are not true (or at the very least not confirmed) in 'Lego Monkie Kid' because Fandom and Fanfics have warped my perception of reality' back when we only had seasons 1-2! I made a funny list of lmk fanon tropes I found in fanfics so much that they kinda made me forget what was real and what was fanon. But after season 4 and the special, I decided to go back over things because a LOT has changed. So, without further ado, lets get into all the juicy details (with pictures!) hehehe~

Despite the events of 'Shadow Play' the rest of the gang does not know about Macaque

Okay so this one got solved immediately after season 2. Like Mac just showed up right where s2 ended. He made his presence known. Repeatedly! Relentlessly! I love him btw.

MK has never told Sun Wukong that Macaque appeared while he was gone

I listed this one specifically because some fics decide to either have MK confess to Wukong that Mac's been in contact with him after his debut episode, or MK might keep it a secret. But in the grand scheme since his debut, its kinda irrelevant now. Man is everywhere.

The Gold Fillet has not been mentioned

This is also no longer true! I mean we see it a lot but there's not a conversation about it specifically. I think that counts... (We're gonna get to the juicy ones I promise)

MK's real name has not been mentioned in the Dub

Still true! (I should clarify; I mean they havent told us what it is. Only that MK is a nickname because his real name is too long.)

MK does not have any confirmed biological family details

Whew, okay so this one is harder. We know that MK was adopted by Pigsy after being born from a stone on FFM just like Sun Wukong. So while its not exactly like Wukong laid him as a stone egg (I mean...he might've idk) its safe to say he is more related to Wukong biologically than anyone else. Right?....I think.

MK does not have an older sister

Still true, for reasons above! (Him having an older sister happened in fanfics a lot more than you'd think)

Reincarnation has not been confirmed or denied

Comfirmed now! It was HEAVILY implied in season 3 toward the end anyway heh.

Red Son and MK are not dating

YET. (But they do have cute moments -crosses fingers-)

Pigsy and Tang are not dating

Im HAPPY to say that this one is actually sort of implied to be canon? I could list a bunch of knowing looks and one off remarks but I'd be here all day gushing so I'll just go with the most obvious piece of evidence. Season 4's Pig-Napped! Has a moment where Tang is trying to get through to Pigsy, who is trapped in his ancestor's body. He mentions that he has "dedicated his life to this man (Pigsy)" and idk how else to read that if ya know what I mean. (Also this cuddle moment when he got Pigsy back. Tee-hee)

Sun Wukong and Macaque have not had any kind of relation or relationship confirmed beyond "Beloved Friends"

This one is ALSO having some VIBES but not anything confirming enough for me to outright say its canon. Though there's...there's somethin' goin on. Shadow Play set the table but seasons 3-4 gave us a FUCKING ANGST MEAL.

and the special we learn a lot more about Macaque and Wukong's relationship. They were canonically a lot closer and more affectionate than I had originally expected and the implication of being "sworn brothers" the two sharing a home at FFM, and peach metaphors/nicknames I could write a whole book about. I can't really say it has anything as concrete as Tang saying his life is for Pigsy, but I can say the implications are MIGHTY, and their wounds are DEEP. (Shadowpeach flows in my veins so deeply, season 5 please give me what I need its Sonadow but Monkey men please gods, all of the gods, just give me--)

Mei, Red Son, and MK have never had a party or a sleepover

Weirdly enough, this totally happened??? Like not gonna lie out of all of these things on this list, this one was the one I didn't expect to come through. But they did sleep over at Red's place, and had a beach party at the end of s4.

Lady Bone Demon has not been directly referred to as White Bone Spirit in the Dub

This is true, likely because they just went with a different name entirely for the English dub.

The Shame Temple is not for sex

YET.

There is no Easter Bunny, There is no Tooth Fairy, and there is no Spindrax

Honestly considering what happened to the spider gang as a whole, I'm not surprised this is still true....(RIP)

MK has not called Pigsy Dadsy (Update: a few people have confirmed this has happened) and Mk has not called Sun Wukong Dad

Im including these two together (even though the Dadsy one was already confirmed in s1) for a few reasons because I feel like I need to talk about why.

MK not only has called Pigsy Dadsy, he says flat out in season 4 that Pigsy is his dad, due to adopting him. This is in reply to Mei saying that Wukong is his dad, due to the whole stone monkey thing. While its implied he and Wukong are cut from the same cloth somehow, both being mystic stone monkeys, MK only sees Pigsy as his true father.

Macaque has not been redeemed yet

This one is a lot more nuanced. While Mac is no longer their enemy and is a reluctant ally, I wouldn't call him redeemed necessary. This is mostly because around the end of season3 and all of season 4 we begin to delve into the complexity of Wukong/Macaque. It's shown that both parties did damage and hurt each other in the past. It feels a bit black and white to try and put all the blame on Macaque and say he needs to be 'redeemed' now that we know more about the two monkeys. But for the sake of argument, I will say that as of season 4, Macaque can be considered one of the good guys even if they're not his 'friends.'

His relationship with Wukong is just beginning to mend and that's a whole different can of worms, but as past antagonists go, I'd say he's got a seal of approval when it comes to being a reliable ally.

Aaaaannnddddd that's all the ones I had! This was really fun to comb through all of the fanfic themes and see how much they've snuck their way into canon (or were flat out proven to be the deal from the start) since season 2! Hopefully once season 5 rolls around I can address some of these unconfirmed fanfic themes again, and maybe even have new ones! (Right now the only one I can think of is Azure having romantic feelings for Wukong but since he's kinda gone idk if that would ever come up)

If anyone has some other fanfic themes that are so fanon they get mixed up with canon, let me know so I can make a list! mwhehehe UwU

#lego monkie kid #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lmk season 4 #lmk

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venjamin-kingdomhearts · 8 months

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What are your thoughts on the idea of Namine restoring Ventus' memories of Union X? I've seen it a couple times and I don't think it'll happen but I think it could make some interesting fanfics. I also like it since it would mean Ventus and Namine would meet which I'd personally love to see.

OK so I've definitely talked about it a tiny bit in this post here (which someone drew some wonderful art for eheh), and a touch here BUT i ended up making a one-shot based off the idea here.

Hey so. Apologies that this took *checks calendar* 20 days but I kept getting distracted by drawing ideas. I AM here now though and want to thank you so much for you patience and the ASK i love talking abt stuff like this eheh.

Ok, in general I LOVE the idea. Though my biggest fear is that ACTUAL KH will have Naminé recover Ven’s memories offscreen, so I can’t say I want it to be canon just because the fear of like. Ven’s lost memories being magically recovered without any real payoff is just so real. Best case scenario is that it’s a separate plot where we see Ventus struggle with his recovered memories and worst case scenario is that it’s offscreen, so… I’m trying not to get my hopes up (and failing).

BUT onto the actual Nami and Ven interaction. As someone who loves them as friends and a ship there is so much potential here. You can boil it down to two major things though; how Ventus reacts to his recovered memories, and how Naminé feels about having to use her powers again. I feel like this idea allows for SO much angst for each character and a chance for them to connect on a deeper level.

Like, Naminé was made to use her powers to hurt Sora. She clearly carries a lot of guilt still, and I’ve seen SO many headcanons about her swearing to never use her memory powers again that it’s practically canon in my eyes. Of course, she eventually DOES have to use her powers when searching for Sora (as said in re:mind) , but I think she only looks through Xion and Roxas’ memories, no altering them. So, she’s sworn off altering memories, helping people remember and forget. She only searches through memories when she’s told, and of course, never wants to hurt anyone with her magic. Naminé is tired of being “the Witch”… and luckily, Ventus doesn’t see her as that. I’d like to imagine that they’re friends and get to know each other a little before the idea of using Naminé’s powers on Ventus is even a thought. Like, Ventus IS aware of Naminé’s powers from the beginning, but he’s only heard whispers of it, little facts. Nothing super major and concrete, just a general “memory magic is a thing Naminé does”. I think he does ask her a bit about it, but it’s silly questions. Questions no one’s ever asked Naminé, like, “do you ever use your magic to find your keys?” “do you remember everything you’ve ever read?” “oh, if you can control memories, can you read minds? quick, what number am i thinking!” Just silly little ‘can you’s and ‘what if’s. It makes Naminé laugh, because no one’s ever thought of her magic like that. As something that can be used for the mundane, for little situations where no one’s memories are at stake. I think eventually she would open up more to Ventus about her magic, because he sees it as something that’s not too scary.

Course, after a few deeper conversations, Ventus would be able to catch on to the darker parts of Naminé’s powers. He might even… think of how scary they could be. I don’t think he’d ever be scared of Naminé, but one day he might be sitting alone, thinking of what it’d be like to forget what he has right now. Wonder, for himself, how many of his own memories are really real, since he’s forgotten so much. He trusts Naminé. But he realizes how terrifying it would be, to have his memories altered.

But around this time, Ventus starts questioning a lot. His memories have always been muddled, and now that he remembers pieces of his life while he was Xehanort’s apprentice, before Vanitas came to be, Ventus has this lingering sense of “I don’t really know who I am or who I was, do I?” Then there’s Chirithy, who is proof Ventus had another life he left behind. Ventus begins to wonder what that life was like. Begins to question if the Ventus he is now is anything like the Ventus he was before. In a way, he views his lost memories as… a different person, almost. Ventus might even wonder if, with that line of thinking, he’s simply…someone else, pretending to be Ventus. The “replacement” of the original.

I think Ventus would be scared to confront that original self.

But he would have to, because of course there was something special about Ventus’ past life and it was something that could hint to what’s happening right now and where Sora is and who the Guardians of Light have to fight next. So when everyone looks to Ven for answers, Ventus looks to Naminé, and the process begins.

Ventus feels bad that she’s using her powers because of him. But Naminé smiles (it must be fake. It has to be fake, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes) and nods, knowing her magic is needed and everyone is counting on Ven who’s counting on her. But when they’re alone, away from prying eyes and the rest of the Guardians, when the lights are dim and Ventus’ smile fades, Naminé asks him if this is what he wants.

Ventus is a bad liar, but he’s got Sora’s stupid habit of insisting he’s fine. Unlike Sora, Ventus can’t keep smiling and he’s WAY less convincing. So no matter how many times he denies that he’s scared, Naminé whispers:

“I know you’re scared, but it’s not a bother, Ventus. I’ve done this before, you’ll be fine. As soon as I find those Chains, I’ll reconnect them, and then-“

“But what about you?” Ventus interrupts. “I don’t- don’t want to force you to do this.”

They’re both scared. Really scared. And I think they’d realize it then, that Ventus is secretly scared of losing himself to his memories, and Naminé is secretly scared of messing up. They don’t want to go through with this-

“But we have to. For Sora.”

Ventus takes a breath.

“If- if my memories can show us any hints for what we have to do to find him, I-I think we need to do this. But-“

“You’re still scared.” Naminé looks Ven in the eyes.

Ventus swallows. He nods.

“And so are you.”

They leave it at that. Mutual recognition that they’re both scared of what will happen next, but that this is something they must do. They are in this together, and they trust each other enough to acknowledge they are afraid.

Eventually, Naminé has to search through Ventus’ memories. Alter the Chains connecting them, thread them together in ways she’s only even had to do for Sora, when he fell asleep in Castle Oblivion. It’s almost like an operation. Terra and Aqua hold Ventus’ hands and say their “see you soon”s before he drifts to sleep. Angel the Wise and his Apprentices have to assure them that Ventus won’t be sleeping for so long, not a year and definitely not 12. The process will take a while, since Ventus’ memories are so twisted and Naminé needs time to untangle them, but she has support. She’ll be able to help him soon.

Naminé and Ventus are alone again, before he must sleep.

“Hey, Nams?”

Naminé looks at him quietly. Ventus smiles.

“I know you haven’t started yet, but… thanks, Naminé. In advance.”

Ventus felt the urge to say that. He couldn’t tell why, but… well, Master Eraqus always told him to be polite.

Naminé manages a smile, Ventus falls asleep, and she begins her work.

Anyways, things don’t go… well in my head. There’s a lot of remembering bad things and a lot of Naminé going “oh shit, Ven’s gonna have to remember this and he’s going to feel TERRIBLE.” a lot of her realizing what stuff he’s been through and now, she’s in this weird place where she KNOWS and it’s up to her to decide whether Ventus should remember or not. And fuck, it’d be so much pressure for her. just…. you ever had to sit with a friend while they describe something horrible they’ve been through? it had to deliver bad news? Naminé is just feeling all the worst parts of that. Sorry for Ventus, sorry for Strelitzia, sorry for everyone. She wants to help but she doesn’t know how, all she knows is that she can either help Ventus remember or hide all the memories away again and pretend she couldn’t reach them.

(also, Marluxia was there apparently and Naminé does NOT want to unpack those feelings goodness gracious no)

Now, whichever choice Naminé takes will be a mess of angst. Because on one hand, she can let Ventus remember and everyone will deal with the consequences, or she can make him forget, and only she would know about the Age of Fairytales and Strelitzia’s murder and how very young Ventus had been when he was dragged into everything. Either way, there’s no going back.

It’s all a matter of whether Naminé has the courage to ask for help and risk hurting others, or pretend everything is alright and take on the pain for herself and herself alone.

#my thoughts #thank you for the ask!!!!#ventus and namine #ventus #namine #kh #SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING MISTAKES IM TIRED AND ON MY PHINE

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anonymityisfunwriter · 8 months

Text

The Twin Flame - Chapter 35: Hoax

"My best laid plan, your sleight of hand, my barren land, I am ash from your fire…"

☀️Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Series☀️

Content Warning: Blood, canon-typical violence

Karli.

A shaky breath escapes from your lips as your eyes slowly fall to your bloodied hand. Your legs buckle, bringing you to your knees. You fall to the ground, clutching your midsection. "Karli?"

"Poor, poor, Sunshine," Sharon condescendingly coos. She sighs with mock remorse, "If only you'd listened, it really didn't have to be this way."

"You're working for Sharon?" you weakly ask, clutching your stomach, doing your best to ignore the chilling sensation of blood trickling out of your wound. "What about wanting to change the world?"

"She made a good point," Karli stands before you, bloodied knife in her hand. "Once a SHIELD lackey, always a SHIELD lackey. Even just a dozen of you, people wouldn't go hungry. We'd have no need for the GRC or any government really. One world, one people."

"A SHIELD lackey?" you question.

"Save it," Sharon snarks, cutting you off before you can tell Karli the truth, "I told her everything she needed to know about you."

"What did you say to her?" you seethe, flexing your other hand.

Your hand trembles, unable to remain steady enough for combat, any flame you muster flickers in and out like a candle in the wind. You can't defend yourself. Not like this.

The pain surges once more, you double forward, one hand still desperately clutching the wound, the other rests on the concrete floor, trying to hold yourself up.

Sharon circles you, taunting you like she's the predatory and you're her prey. This is it. She's got you exactly where she wants. Finally, she would win.

Vindication swells in Sharon's ribcage, inhaling and exhaling it with every breathe. You didn't know it, but this was about so much more than what she could take from you. It was proving something to everyone, to herself even. That she won. That, in the end, she was the last one standing. It should've been her. It should've been her all along. And tonight would prove that. "I told her the truth. I told her that you'll always be loyal to SHIELD, to Nick Fury. That you wouldn't never see the world like we see it."

"Nick Fury saved my life." You know it's the wrong thing to say. You should disagree, especially if what Sharon told you about Nick was actually true. You shouldn't be loyal to a man who betrayed you, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. You can't believe that the closest thing you had to a father figure saw you like everyone else did. Because then what? What would happen if he saw you as nothing more than a weapon for war, a tool for victory? So you refuse to believe it. You choose to remain loyal, because what other choice is there? You choose to believe in his faithless love one last time. "I never would've seen the light of day without him."

Sharon scoffs, rolling her eyes like you're nothing but a thorn in her side, "See? I told you."

"And how - how exactly do you see the world?" you grimace, speaking more to the floor than to either Sharon or Karli.

"I see a world where we don't need superheroes, where the people can help themselves. A world without SHIELD. A world where we don't need you."

You place one of your feet flat on the ground beneath you, using all your strength to try to stand. You get halfway up before you lose your shaky footing and crash back to the floor, "This isn't how you help people, Karli. You have to know that. What you're trying to do, it's dangerous."

"Is it? Or are you just too scared to stand up? Too weak?"

You manage to bring yourself to your knees, looking Karli in the eyes as you tell her the truth, "You risk putting power in the wrong hands, Karli. Trust me. I've done it before. Fought the good fight for people who didn't deserve it. I know - I know that you want to believe that you're doing good, but this isn't the way to help people."

A twinge of remorse needles at Karli's skin at seeing your deteriorating state, but she had to do this, and it was either you or her vision of the world she desperately wanted, "It's the only way to help them."

"And what's to keep Sharon from turning on you the second she gets what she wants?" you ask her.

It's what happened to you, after all. You'd given power to people who took advantage of a person who didn't know any better. You'd given everything to SHIELD, and they'd bled you dry. They tore you apart and discarded you. You never stood a chance, not then. It was only in hindsight that you saw you were never meant to come out unscathed.

You knew better now. You wouldn't allow Karli to feel the pain of the scars left just beneath the skin from when they pulled you apart.

Karli takes a long stride before you, her even tone wavers, showing a hint of defensiveness, "Sharon needs me."

"And when she doesn't?" you prompt.

Karli's eyes shift toward Sharon with a precarious glance. At best, it's a shaky alliance. At worst, it's Sharon deceiving Karli to exact her revenge.

You take their tense moment as another chance to escape. You plant your foot again, using momentum to swing yourself upright. You stand on a shaky leg, adrenaline beginning to pool in your stomach. The pain ebbs and flows with each and every movement as adrenaline flows through your veins.

You barely make it a single step before you're knocked back down by the sharp pain. You gasp, a pained yelp leaving your mouth as you crumble again.

You’re not even sure what you’re trying to run to. You know they’d catch you even if you made it out of this forsaken room. You’re just trying to get to the door. To get to a weapon. To do anything except lie there and watch your freedom be stolen from you all over agin.

No, you’re not sure what you’re running to, the door, a weapon, a hiding spot. You have no idea.

But you do it anyway.

You do it because you promised you’d fight with everything you had left.

And if they find you here, lying in a pool of your own blood, you could only hope both Sam and Bucky know that you fought with everything to get back to them.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Sharon taunts, watching your pathetic attempt at an escape. "Here, I'll give you a ten second head start. Go on."

She's right, you know. You won't get very far like this. Blood seeps out of your back and stomach, weakness is slowly creeping up your arms. From pain or shock, you're not sure. You're in an underground labyrinth. No way to talk to Sam or Bucky. For all intents and purposes, you're in pretty bad shape. It doesn't look good for you.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus, to not allow yourself to succumb to the worst case scenario.

For a long while, you resented the person that you once were. Naive, gullible, a person who believed in everyone, who believed in good. Some days, you hated her, you blamed the person you were for the person you became. You blamed her for where you ended up.

Right now, you needed that person. You needed the person that believed in everything, that everyone believed in, the one that was never afraid to fight. You need her.

She would get up.

She would fight her way back to her friends.

You look to the side of you, a piece of loose scaffolding beside you. It's almost exactly like the pipe you used to fight with in Madripoor. You watch it for a beat too long, willing it to do anything. It gently rocks and rattles against the floor, inching its way closer to your outstretched hand.

Hope dies as quickly as it bloomed when you feel another gun press into your shoulder. A voice behind you tuts, "Ah ah."

"Perfect timing," Sharon praises. "And I guess, now that we've got you here, why don't I walk you through how the rest of your night is going to go?" Sharon speaks as though this is the most entertaining night of her life. Like she's the ringleader about to host the most grand circus the world has ever seen. This is all one big game to her, you realize. She wants to draw this out, to make it hurt. Sharon freely gestures to Karli, "You, of course, know Karli."

"And maybe you'll remember Batroc," Sharon gestures to the man looming behind you. You turn your head over your shoulder, recognizing the man that escaped both Steve and Sam all that time ago. "I'm sure he'd love to meet a friend of Steve Rogers, best friend of Sam Wilson. You know how much he loved those two."

He winds his hand in your hair, gripping it tightly. You jaggedly hiss as you scramble to your feet as he raises you up off the ground by your hair. "Do you realize what your friends have cost me?"

"Go to hell," you defiantly spit.

"You first," he darkly chuckles, tossing you back on the ground.

"And," Sharon gestures to herself as you land in a heap at her feet, "I'd hope you'd remember the person that you and your friends abandoned."

You look up, once again trying to pull yourself up, "So that's it, huh? You got it all planned out?"

"Yeah, I do. And to think, we could've been a team."

“I will never help you.”

“I didn’t really think you would.”

"What do you think's going to happen, huh? That you'll just kidnap me and Sam and Bucky won't go looking for me?" you rhetorically ask. "That I won't spend the rest of my life trying to get away from you? I will never help you," you sneer. "I will never, ever stop fighting for my family."

"See, I thought you might need some incentive," Sharon crouches down before you, "Do you think even a super soldier could take a bullet between the eyes? What about Sam? Sarah? Poor AJ and Cass?"

“They trusted you. We trusted you," you bark.

Something inside you breaks, snaps, back into place or further into a million little pieces, you're not sure. It fills you with a rage you never wanted to feel. It burns in the pit of your stomach, taints every bit of light and good you thought resided within you. You've spent your whole life trying to be more than the monster you were told you were. And with those words, you're not sure that you are any better.

“And don’t you worry, I’ll keep their trust. I’ll walk out of here, panicked. Maybe I’ll tell them I heard a gunshot, but I don’t know where Sunshine went. I’m so scared," Sharon fiegns terror, her voice trembling. "The three of us, we're gonna make such a great team! We'll search high and low, leave no stone left unturned. And still, no trace of you.” Sharon nonchalantly shrugs, “After a few months of tirelessly searching, some breadcrumbs will start appearing. A yellow shoe with drawings will pop up on the freeway. Maybe it’ll be those friendship bracelets. Now that, that would be heartbreaking.”

“You can’t do this,” you spit, planting your feet firmly on the ground again.

“But I can. And I am. And you want to know the real kicker?”

She waits for you to reply, but you remain defiantly silent keep trying to stand up.

“The real kicker is that I was just going to kill you. Put you out of your misery, if only because your incessant meddling was really starting to annoy the shit out of me," Sharon rants at you. "It would've made it so much easier - but then you got Nagel killed. And just like always, you ruined everything. And if I can't have the Sunshine Serum, I'll just have Sunshine."

You clammer your way back onto your knees, speaking through labored breaths, "You can't have me."

"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed, I expected more from you than boring cliches."

"I'll kill you."

The words slip out of your mouth without a second thought. You've never killed a person before. You've prided yourself on that. Blood has never stained your hands. In this moment, you don't care. You want Sharon Carter, you want the Power Broker, dead. It hits you like a ton of bricks. It hurts that you've sunk so far. The mighty have fallen. You've lived long enough to watch yourself become the person you never wanted to be.

And what makes you hate yourself even more, is that you really, truly mean that.

"Wow..." Sharon chuckles, dragging out the word. "Big talk coming from Sunshine."

"If you touch any of them, if you hurt my family, I'll kill you without a second thought." The threat sounds weak when you can't bring yourself to fully stand. You prop yourself up against one of the wooden crates in the room, using it as a crutch you help pull yourself up.

Before you can fully sit upright, you see Batroc looming over you in your peripheral. He looks to Sharon, then back to you. Batroc looks down at you for a long moment, watching you, examining you, no, it's a look that's far more sinister, he's appraising you.

He suddenly announces, "I want triple."

"What?"

A jagged hiss leaves your mouth as his hand winds in your hair, hauling you up to your feet again. He presses you against him, the cool metal running down your cheek sends a chill down your spine, "I want triple."

Sharon quirks an unimpressed eyebrow at him, "Or what?"

The forced ultimatum sets him off.

One of his hands still wound in your hair, his other arm presses itself against your windpipe.

He presses his forearm tighter against your throat, suffocating you. You claw at his arm for much needed breath.

He lifts his arm higher, dragging you to the very tips of your toes, shoes barely scraping against the concrete floor. Still, Sharon looks unbothered at the life slowly draining from you.

He flexes his arm around your windpipe, "You let us walk or I kill her now and no one gets her."

Sharon takes a moment, her mouth twisting at the sudden blackmail. Without a word, she turns her gun away from you and to Batroc. An expert marksman, she hits him in his temple without missing a beat. No negotiation. No remorse. It's as cut throat as you've heard the Power Broker can be. You shriek when you feel his blood splatter against your face. His arm falls limp on your throat, dropping you in an instant.

You fall to the ground, gasping for air as Batroc's lifeless body falls behind you. You cough, a metallic taste flooding your mouth. Your breathing comes faster and faster as your lungs burn and ache from the lack of oxygen.

Sharon approaches your convulsing body crumpled on the ground. She watches as your fingers twitch toward the pipe again, poising for an attack. She tucks her gun under her chin, forcing your eyes to meet hers. "Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you. Do you really want to bet that your powers are faster than a bullet this close to your throat?"

"You didn't let him kill me," you point out through your coughing fit.

"Don't sound so pleased," Sharon rolls her eyes. "After everything I did to make sure tonight went just right, I'm not going to let anything get in my way. It all came together so beautifully, I'm not going to let Batroc of all people ruin this for me."

"You still won't get away with this."

"Sure, I will! And let me tell you, it was easy. It was so fucking easy!" she brightly exclaims. "General Ross did all the heavy lifting for me after he had you erased."

"What?" you whisper, frozen where you sit. You're not sure if you heard her right, but the revelation still hits you like a ton of bricks. For years, you'd lived with the fact that you'd hurt Tony so terribly he'd erased any trace of you and your mark on this world, that he erased any identity trace of an identity you'd built. You lived with the fact that he never forgave, nor would he ever forgive you. For years, you'd lived with the thought that you'd betrayed him so terribly that he erased you, he'd washed his hands of you. "It - it wasn't Tony?"

"Tony?" Sharon bitterly chuckles. "Tony was off living his life with his family, ignoring everyone else, leaving the rest of us for dead."

"It wasn't Tony," you whisper to yourself. You chuckle through your shaky breaths, tears welling in your eyes, "He didn't hate me."

"How nice," Sharon sarcastically remarks. "Your friend didn't hate you."

You look up at her, still caught up in the relief of a weight you'd carried for years now, "He didn't hate me."

"No, Tony Stark did not hate you," Sharon offers, mildly annoyed that your relief is overshadowing the pain she was trying to inflict on you. "But I did have a question for you."

You wordlessly grunt in response.

“How does it feel? To go from SHIELD’s plaything to the Avengers plaything, I mean even if I didn’t take you, the UN owns you, Ross will be on your ass before you make it outside. You’ll always just be an asset, you're just a weapon. That’s gotta sting, doesn’t it?”

It does sting. It's always stung that you've spent years getting tossed around. Never meaning anything more to them than what you could do for them. It's an ache you don't think will ever truly go away. You school your expression, not wanting to give Sharon the reaction she's fishing for.

Karli's head snaps up in that moment, a confused expression forming on her face. "What did you just say?"

"Stop talking, Karli," Sharon warns, her finger dancing over the trigger. "We're about to get everything we ever wanted, so shut up."

“Wait, SHIELD owned her? But you said she was a SHIELD lackey, you said she would always be loyal to SHIELD,” Karli frantically repeats, her eyes darting between you and Sharon, “What does that even mean?”

“What difference does it make?" Sharon seethes. "I’m helping your cause, not her.”

“You said she was a supremacist. That she wanted to get rid of us,” Karli accuses, pressing the subject with an urgency you hadn't seen from her since she watched a friend die before her eyes in Latvia. Karli looks at you, desperation flooding her eyes, "You - you said you were loyal to SHIELD."

You shake your head, "I was loyal to Nick Fury, I never said I was loyal to SHIELD."

Sharon petulantly sighs, shaking her head at Karli, “You couldn’t have just kept your mouth shut?”

"You lied to me," Karli hisses through her teeth.

"And you stole from me. After everything I did for you when you got to Madripoor," Sharon reminds her. Sharon turns to you, disappointedly shaking her head, "She reminded me of a younger me. I took her in. I gave her an opportunity. And she betrayed me without a second thought."

"You said if I helped you get her then we were even," Karli forcefully states. "You said we could change the world. Together."

For the first time since she's cornered you, Sharon takes her gun off of you. She pivots, swinging the barrel to face Karli. "What? Did you honestly think you were going to walk away from this? After you stole from me?"

"Sharon," you demand, halfway up on your feet.

"Honestly, I was hoping you'd get caught, end up on the Raft, but if you want something done, you have to do it yourself," Sharon rants.

Karli sharply inhales, staring down the barrel of Sharon's gun, “But you said-”

“Yeah,” Sharon unapologetically winces. “I lied.”

“Sharon, don’t!” you shout, unable to get to your feet before she pulls the trigger.

You don't think. You just do. You don't make it to your feet. And you're not quite sure the how or the why, if it was all divine intervention, or just the last ounce of power you stored somewhere within you.

All you know is Sharon trembles with rage as Karli stands before her completely unharmed.

Karli’s eyes open after a moment and still no impact. Her eyes blow wide, the bullet curved downward, now embedded into the concrete before her. She looks at you bewildered. “You saved me?”

Your breathing comes harder and harder as you finally manage to prop yourself up against the wooden crate beside you. Your heart races like it's going a mile a minute. Sweat beads across your forehead, pain and adrenaline overwhelming you.

“Why?” Karli demands, her fists clenched and almost shaking, with unbridled rage that you can’t quite comprehend.

She’s angry. Angry you had the audacity to defy the archetype she’d built of you in her mind. Angry that you saved her, and by doing so shattered every ounce of contempt she had for you. Every justification she had, gone. She stabbed you in the back and you saved her.

“You’re just a kid,” you pant, darkness starting to envelope the sides of your vision. “We were both just kids.”

"As touching as that is, I'm about done here." Sharon raises the gun again, but this time you sloppily throw your body weight against her, with just enough force to knock the gun out of her hand. The gun clatters against the concrete. Sharon grapples with your weakening body for a moment before she shoves you back onto the ground. You fall in a heap, pained groans leaving your mouth as pain sears through you. Your hand reaches out, only to clatter against the cool gun metal.

Once again, you don't think, you just do. You reach for it without a second thought. You sit on your knees, gun in hand and pointed at Sharon. Even as darkness starts to envelope the side of your vision, your anger wins out, "I warned you, Sharon." Sharon chuckles, not believing for one second that you'd actually go through with shooting her. "Do it, then. Kill me."

The gun is heavy in your hand. It weights down more than just your shaky hand, it bogs your spirit down. You feel yourself unraveling, something coming undone deep within you. You wonder the look in your eye was the same broken look you'd seen on Sharon's face at the start of the night. She'd lost her way. She'd gone down a path from which there was no coming back from. If you pulled the trigger, was that going down the same path? Would you permanently lock away your old self with one bullet?

You think about that little girl in the picture you'd saved from before. It was you. You just couldn't recognize yourself. You'd spent years trapped, begging to be let out. That little girl pleaded every night, tears streaming down her face, screaming until her voice was completely hoarse.

Like Bucky said, there was nothing that girl did to deserve being locked away, caged like an animal. You can't stand the thought of that little girl trapped at the back of your mind, begging for you to let her out. She deserved so much more than that. You can't be the person that seals away that little girl again.

You just can't do it.

You can't bring yourself to pull the trigger. Your hand trembles in a way that has nothing to do with the blood loss, and everything to do with the fact that you can't bring yourself to do it. You can't kill her.

You knew how to use a gun, Natasha once showed you.

You knew that your family was in danger because of her.

You knew that this would be the end of it all.

And still, you can't do it.

You toss the gun to the side, out of her reach. This wasn't you.

She was right, you couldn't beat her. Not like this.

She laughs again, taunting your inability to beat her at her game, "I knew you couldn't do it. You're pathetic."

"No," you wheeze, shaking your head, "You just can't have me."

Her eyebrows furrow as she stalks toward you. Before she can, you focus every ounce of energy, every cell in your body, every glimmer of power you could muster. Every fiber of your being screams at you, telling you to stop.

The dark spots in your vision grow, deepening with each moment you use your powers to stop the airflow to Sharon's lungs, you quite literally are sucking the life out of her.

A quiet, choking sound comes from Sharon's mouth. Oxygen seeps from her lungs, slowly dragging her to the edge of consciousness. She reaches for her throat, grasping for the air that simply won't come.

Sharon sinks to the ground, her face turning an unnatural shade of red. It shouldn't be this easy for you, it shouldn't be this easy to hurt someone you used to call a friend, and though it makes you hate yourself, it is. It's that easy.

You watch as the life bleeds from Sharon's face, until she slumps down onto the ground.

Karli sharply gasps, taking a hesitant step towards Sharon's unconscious body. Her eyes flicker to you, "Is she...?"

"No," you definitively shake your head, slumping down onto the wooden crate. You can feel the last of the adrenaline and anger fueling you dying your veins. You've done it. You've truly given everything you had. Blood, sweat, and tears. All while holding onto the last part of the old you that you still had. "She's just unconscious."

And just like that, it's done. It's over. You've won. That was it, it was finally all over.

You could rest now.

Your breaths come slower and slower, and you're positive your heart has never raced like this.

Clarity was in death, and you'd never been this close before. A stillness washes over you, a calmness you'd never known. You now understand why Tony was so still, so at peace in his last moments. There's a serenity in the moment as it all stops. The tension in the room fades. And the quiet lulls you to a dream-like state. It washes over you like a lullaby.

You could finally know peace.

Karli's eyes tear away from Sharon, only to find you on the brink of unconsciousness too.

You hear panicked breaths as Karli rushes over to you. Your head lolls up to look at Karli, her eyes frantic when a pained yelp slips from your mouth as she places pressure on the wound. With all the force you can muster, you take Karli's hand removing them from the wound, you warmly smile up at her, "Karli, you have to go now."

Her eyes snap up to your sickly gray face. She swears that she can see the life slowly seep out of you. "What?"

"Go," your voice barely a soothing whisper, you gently pat her bloodied, "They'll find me."

"You'll die before they do," she spits back, blood stains her hands and face as she immediately continues applying pressure to the wound.

You don't truly believe it, they won't find you, not in this underground labyrinth that you'd found yourself lost in. They won't find you, not until you've bled out.

But you knew if by some miracle that they did find you down here, Karli being here would cement her fate. They'd blame her. She'd never know freedom ever again.

And in spite of everything Karli had done, this could be her chance. This could be her way out.

And if it came down to you and the child sitting beside you, it was an easy choice to make. Sam would understand. Bucky would understand. You're sure of it. They had to understand. They just had to.

"I'm tougher than I look."

She glares at your attempt at a joke, pressing down even harder. Blood doesn't stop seeping out of the wound. She knows you're about to run out of time. She can't just leave you here, no one would find you in time. If she doesn't leave, she can't go get help. She almost forgets to factor in the fact that she's one of the most wanted people in the world right now.

"Just shut up and let me think," she demands.

"Go, Karli. Please, while you still can."

"I can't leave you," she whispers, tears streaking down her face.

Each tear clears a path of the blood on her cheeks. Karli had seen death before. She'd watched her friends die. Watched her family slowly wither with each passing day. This was different. This wasn’t just by her own hand. Not just out of cold blood.

But to probably the last person on the planet that truly believed she could still see the light. To the person that still believed she wasn't a villain. To the person that told her there was another way. To the person that still believed in good, not just in her, but in the world.

There was nothing to do but sit there and watch the flame flicker in your eyes, watching the light slowly slip away.

Perhaps it was wrong for you to smile at the person who'd quite literally drawn first blood, but you did. You knew you'd done it. This was her making a choice, refusing to be the villain.

You look up at her and see the little girl she never got to be. You see a child blinded by the treasures of war that no one ever seemed to win, lost in the illusion of the morning glory that never came. She'd seen past the mirage and freed herself from the trance.

It was confirmation of the good you knew was somewhere inside Karli. And though you may never know true freedom, you were content that she would.

You'd shown her that there was no morning glory, no justice to be had in war. If that was your legacy, then so be it.

"I didn't know," she whispers, choked sobs slowly overtaking her, wracking through her body. "I swear I didn't know."

"I know, it's okay," you gently shush her. "It's okay."

"You can't die. Please," she pleads with you.

"I won't," you promise as though it was entirely your choice.

After all, that's what it all boiled down to, wasn't it? A simple choice. The choice to allow yourself to succumb to that darkness that called out to you like a siren. The choice to slip away and embrace the inevitable.

You didn't get a lot of choices in your life, but this one, this one was entirely your own. Just one choice.

Life or death.

And, like most of the people you knew and fought alongside, you'd thought about your death, your legacy. You were all acutely aware that you'd have to go at some point. And you knew that this would be a good way to go. It was everything a person like you could ask for and more.

A hero’s death.

This could be your legacy.

It was everything and more.

And yet, still not enough.

Not when the feeling of Bucky’s touch still lingered on your skin. Not when the way your name fell from his lips was still echoing in your mind.

Not when Karli kneeled over you, begging you not to add to her list. You swore that the only blood that would stain your hands was your own, but now they were staining hers too.

And not when you promised Sam.

Your surroundings slowly fade away as you sink further and further away into the darkness. You can't quite put your finger on what's happening until you see a blurry figure approaching in your peripheral.

The darkness calls out to you like a siren trying to drown you in a stormy sea. You try to fight it off, but it's so enticing. It's just so enticing. You're so tired. You can't fight the current, it doesn't matter how much you want to. You keep sinking. Further and further away. It lulls you further down. It envelopes you in the warmth that feels so good against your cold hands.

You lose the light at the surface, until there's almost nothing left.

Until you hear a voice bellow, "Karli!"

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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blackink-onpaper · 10 months

Text

The Descend and the Resurface

Damian Hart (Beyblade) x OC

Summary: oc comes from a complex background, and in the midst of trying to save it all and help her family she enters a strange arrangement, which will change her life forever.

Masterlist 🖤

Tags: Beyblade, Beyblade Metal Masters, Julian Konzern, Jack, Damian, OC, Gingka Hagane, team Starbreaker, team Excalibur, dr. Ziggurat, Hades Inc., the Garcias

A/N: (ambience suggestion) this chapter will go along with the canon storyline, for this chapter watch Beyblade Metal Masters episode 96 if you like, it’s available on youtube! Other than that, this chapter and the previous were the ones I felt the most inspired creating, because I really wanted to provide more depth into this divide.

Hope you enjoy! :D

Chapter 20

After our return from the realm of desolation, I cleaned myself up while Damian changed into some more comfortable clothes. I checked my smart watch and saw the itinerary for tomorrow was, well, blank. This was confusing me because I knew the awards ceremony was tomorrow around noon, and Ziggurat also mentioned some demonstrations. Then again, maybe I was just overthinking it and I simply wasn’t invited to either activity and had the day to myself. I crawled back into bed, craving some affection from Damian and cuddling up to him. Even though he got the hang of sex quite fast, I could tell physical closeness was absent in his upbringing because of the way he handled cuddling.

“Please come visit me” I kissed his cheek: “I would love to show you my world, and I’m sure Ziggurat wouldn’t object”

He caressed my hair, giving me a gentle smile: “I would be happy to” I don’t know how to explain this, nor do I have any specific observations and examples, but since getting to know Damian more and speaking to dr. Carlisle it seemed that in rare moments of the day Damian’s softer, calmer side came out. I also think sex helps him relieve the bottled up stress and rigidity he is so used to, especially as I surrender to him to feed his need of superiority and dominance. Nonetheless, after seeing his reaction to my confession I have come to the realisation that Ziggurat probably did not give him any affection, even in the form of a fond nickname because he just calls him by his name, and probably never told him that he loved him.

“Damian… I told you I loved you, and I mean it.” I looked into his eyes, propping myself up onto my elbow: “I want us to be together.”

He remained silent for a long time, my assumption is because he did not know how to handle someone being loving to him: “And your parents?”

“Honestly, if you’re not broke they’ll like you.” I sighed, there was probably no point in sugar-coating it anyway.

“If the Konzern’s were good enough, then I believe we’ll get along just fine” he scoffed jokingly, putting an mysterious emphasis on the last two words. I didn’t know how much Damian was worth or how much he brought in, but I am pretty convinced Ziggurat was rich enough for my parents to seize any objections. My mind took off into fantasies about us walking along the cozy streets of my hometown, then going to the French Riviera, maybe renting a boat, dinners… I wanted all of it. I wanted him to see the colours the world has to show, and not just artificial lights and laboratories in the middle of a wasteland that neighbours another vast concrete jungle. With these fantasies and the smell of his skin, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up because Damian got out of bed around 5AM, probably for his Arrangement session. I stole a few fleeting kisses from him as he was putting on his uniform: “You guys are going to the ceremony?”

“Yeah” he put on his choker and gloves: “But I need to do a round of arrangement first.” We left together, him to the Arrangement quarters and I to my room to get ready. Hours rolled by, I was mostly resting before I got ready and headed to the cafeteria to have breakfast. Unsurprisingly, the students were giving me glances and whispering among each other, again.

Once I had finished my meal, I decided I would go up to the helicopter and wait for Starbreaker to finish their Arrangements so I could say bye to Damian before they left. When I reached my desired floor, I sat down on the sofa in the waiting room that overlooked the heliport, the same one where Carlisle and I had a conversation yesterday. It was nearing 11AM, and I knew the boys should be done soon. My heart started racing as I saw the numbers on the elevator moving towards the one I was on, and I stood in front of the elevator to surprise them. After all, it is a shitty feeling going to someone else’s victory celebration after such a hard battle. The elevator announced its arrival with a silent ‘bing’ sound, and the door slid open:

My heart dropped: “Julian?!”

“Camila?!?”

“What are you doing here?!?” I gasped, out of anyone I could possibly imagine being at Hades Inc. Julian was the absolutely last person on the list. Hell, if Gingka was here I would be less surprised.

“I should be asking you the same question” he stepped out of the elevator, surrounded with a hateful energy I have never seen him with, his fists clenched: “So it’s all true.”

For the first time in my entire life, I stepped back from Julian out of fear: “What is true? Julian why are you here?”

“Do you know what they call you, Camila? What people are saying about you?”

There was a silence, I didn’t say anything. I feared the unrecognisable emotions he was clearly consumed in, in addition to probably still being burdened by the loss he suffered in front of the global audience.

“No” I whispered. I didn’t want to make him any angrier by not answering him, knowing it was a pet peeve of his.

“ ‘The whore of Starbreaker’, Camila. They call you a golddiger. You’re an absolute disgrace to yourself, your family and everyone that extends to you!”

“Julian, che cazzo?!” I gasped again, this time for lack of air: “We broke up months before this tournament so you can focus on Excalibur - how am I a disgrace for moving on when you ignored me and didn’t want me back? Huh? How am I to blame when you know my parents need the money?”

“Money. It’s always about money.” Julian said, disgusted: “Of course you would join these hyenas if they paid you.”

“Okay then, what are you doing here?”

He paused this time around, battling the boiling embarrassement within himself: “The Konzern enterprise shares have been bought off by Hades Inc.”

My pulse stopped, remembering how huge and important their generational family businesses were; remembering his darling parents, our countless memories - this was his whole life, this was his pride, his plan for the future: “Julian…”

He barely uttered in a low voice, full of bitterness: “My name is now worthless, but I chose to keep our honor by joining dr. Ziggurat.”

Somewhere in the middle of his sentence, two elevators opened up to our left, with Starbreaker in one, and a totally different team that seemed somewhat familiar in the other.

“Good for you” an all-familiar snide comment echoed as Damian stepped out of the elevator: “ ‘Cause you might also snag an Arrangement and finally put up a fight.”

Julian lowered his head out of anger and humiliation, while the girl from the other team - who I now recognised as the Garcias - whistled: “Now that was a low blow!”

“Don’t disrespect me!” Julian growled at the Garcias, as Damian came closer to us, positioning himself closer to me.

“What’s wrong, Julian?” Damian mocked him: “You look upset… again.”

Julian looked at him with boiling, bitter anger that could probably burn a hole in the wall if he pointed his gaze into it, but remained silent. As he now works for dr. Ziggurat, I assume he is powerless agaist Starbreaker members, let alone Damian.

“Besides” Damian grinned at Julian sadistically: “I told you I’d ‘take all of it away from you: your pride, confidence’...”

Julian looked revolted, pale, ill and traumatised, but that didn’t stop Damian from serving the final stab into his heart - wrapping his hand around my waist, adding: “ …‘everything sweet’ ”, quoting himself from his match with Julian.

After a short silent pause - which wasn’t even honoured by complete silence because the girl and younger boy from the Garcias were making mocking ‘oooh’ and ‘burn’ nosises after what Damian said - Ziggurat arrived with two pilots:

“Time to go, everybody” he passed through the Garcia members and halted his stride to the helicopter to address Damian, Julian and myself: “We have a party to crash, we cannot possibly be late.”

Julian walked away towards the helicopter without even looking at me once, followed by Jack and the tallest Garcia boy. Damian grinned at me: “Don’t worry about him. His head feels empty without its crown.”

I looked at him, unsure if I should even be addressing the layers of things that had just happened or just wish him a safe flight and talk about this with him later: “yeah…”

He grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss, thematically soundtracked again with noises provided by younger members of the Garcia family. When he pulled away, he grinned at me again - a victor’s smile: “Wish me luck, heads are gonna roll today… hopefully.”

“Good luck, Damian.” I said, before adding a bit more quietly: “I love you.”

“You too” he smirked at me, pulling away and walking into the helicopter which was apparently only waiting for him, his pristine white cape carried by the wind. The doors closed quickly, and the aircraft took off within the next minute.

There was a lot left for me to digest: for starters, Julian’s absolute disgust and hatred towards me was a particularly heartbreaking thing to see, regardless of the nature of our relationship. We are, or used to be, best friends as well as long term boyfriend and girlfriend. He was the only person in this world I knew as well as I knew myself. Then, the horrible thing that happened to him and his family; I don’t know if the shares value had dropped because of some external reasons so Hades bought up the majority, or if they just had an agenda of their own to take Julian and his family down so they bought them regardless? But why would they do that? They already had all the data from him and defeated him?

“But what if they wanted him?” I uttered to myself, waiting for the elevator. What if they wanted a left-rotating Bey in their arsenal, since Ryuga apparently despises them? For a guy like Ziggurat that’s a good enough reason to wreck someone’s entire family and heirloom. In the same line of thought, Damian said last night something about having more money than Julian, could he have possibly been aware of all of this, or even plotted it with Ziggurat, without telling me? It was hard to say if what he said he meant generally or specifically after this event, because both Ziggurat and Hades Inc. have a high revenue, therefore Starbreaker can’t be doing too bad themselves.

Related to Damian, I was having very polar feelings about how he treated Julian. On one hand, it’s Damian and his ever-present condescending, cocky personality, but on the other hand it was a conversation I deeply regretted being a part of even as a subject of conversation, let alone witnessing. What he did was as humiliating to Julian as if Julian knelt down and Damian pissed all over him, but then again Julian attacked me without a reason and called me a disgrace. My mind was racing, I thought about the ‘everything sweet’ quote Damian said: what if there was an agenda I was not aware of when he said it in the match itself? Had this been the plan all along? It’s actually not impossible, because they had to print, sign and deliver that Hades Inc. letter to my room at least an hour before the matches ended in order for it to get to the hotel in time, but in Beyblade you can never be sure how long the match is going to last. Furthermore, Carlisle himself had said he and Ziggurat had different reasons for me being invited to Hades… Or maybe Damian said it for a different reason and quoted himself just to torture Julian? My head began to hurt from the storm of flashbacks, ideas and theories running though my mind. I had to calm down, there was no way this overthinking will be helpful to me before they return.

I sat down in the common room, and turned on the huge flat screen TV that lifted itself from the floor to watch the WBBA ceremony. A comforting thought crept in: Damian had told me he loved me for the first time today. And after their obligations for the tournament end today, we could plan the rest of our time together. I was open to staying here with him, but I would also like my fantasies of him coming to Europe realised. My train of thought was broken by the theme song and opening sequence of the ceremony.

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Text

the way we were / the way we are - chapter 13 - when the night is over

summary: you and Steve return to New York, and clues start to unearth themselves.

warnings: canon-typical violence, tony goes into dad-mode, mentions of age of ultron

a/n: longest chapter thus far for this fic, decently steve/tony-indulgent, can’t stop won’t stop

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

A few days later, you and Steve drive back to New York. He’s completely healed, and completely engrossed in the Winter Soldier file. Upon further inspection, you discover Nat had translated most of the Russian, but you couldn’t bring yourself to read the details of Bucky’s seventy years of torture. Steve tells you the more harmless bits, which are few and far between.

“Two dozen missions in fifty years,” Steve muses while you’re driving. It sets your teeth on edge, and you nearly slam on the brakes when you realize.

“How long?”

Steve glances over at you, brow crinkling. “Fifty. I just said that.”

You tighten your grip on the steering wheel. “We were in the ice for seventy. Seventy years ago, Bucky fell from the train. Seventy. The missions span fifty. That means…” You trail off. You can’t say it.

“It took twenty years to break him.”

It’s a miracle the steering wheel doesn’t snap in half beneath your hands. It’s a good thing it doesn’t though, Tony’s already mad enough.

Steve offers to drive part of the way, but you won’t let him. You mutter something about him needing to rest, which he waves off, but really, you just want to keep driving. You want to have something to focus on. If you were left to your own devices, you’d read every paper in that file. And you don’t want to. You don’t want to know what he went through. You don’t want to know the horrors he endured while you slept soundly in the ice, dreaming what your life together might have been. You can’t. Not yet. It hurts too much.

So you just keep driving.

It’s late afternoon by the time you reach the Tower. Unsurprisingly, Tony is waiting for you in the garage, pacing back and forth so quickly you’re surprised there’s not an imprint in the concrete floor. Steve gets out of the car first, and Tony claps him on the shoulder as he walks past.

You get out, pushing the car door shut behind you, and when you turn back, Tony is in front of you. The anger is clear on his face, but it startles you when instead of yelling, he throws his arms around you, crushing you to his chest.

“I thought you were gonna yell at me,” you say. Your voice is muffled by Tony’s shoulder, and you press your palms against his back, squeezing him.

“I’m going to, the moment we get upstairs,” he mumbles. “Just needed to hug you first. Okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

It’s a quick elevator ride up to the residence, and Steve disappears in the direction of his room the moment you step off. You and Tony head towards the kitchen. You make a snack – peanut butter and apple slices have become your Tower staple, and Tony always has a jar of the good stuff on hand – and Tony pours himself a healthy glass of scotch.

You’re standing at the counter, knife in hand, when he finally starts.

“So, you gonna tell me what that was?” His voice is already climbing. “You steal a car, take off, disappear for a few days.” He lifts a shoulder, making a less-than-impressed face at you. “You might have bullied Jarvis into keeping quiet, but clearly forgot who runs his programming. I had him track you, Y/N. I knew where you were going the minute you left, but honestly, you went back. To D.C., after Steve specifically told you not too. After I came and scooped your ass out of there. You just run right back into the fire. What gives?”

The knife clatters onto the countertop, and both your hands clench into fists. Your nails dig into your palms. “You don’t get to ask me about this, Tony,” you shoot back. “You can yell at me all you want, but you don’t get to ask. I’m sorry, for stealing your car, I am, and I’m sorry if I worried you. But I won’t explain this. Not now.”

He sips the scotch. “I thought things were different between us, Y/N,” he says, and his voice reminds you of your father, the few times he’d give you the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ tone. “I thought you didn’t like secrets.”

“I am a secret!” Now you’re the one yelling. “I’m one of the biggest secrets known to man right now! Except now, all the info S.H.I.E.L.D. had on me is plastered all over the internet. And it’s too much. It’s all too goddamned much.”

You push both hands through your hair, tugging at your roots. The anger had been building, the whole drive back from Washington. You were mad. Mad at Steve for taking so long to allow you to help. Mad at Tony for coddling you. Mad at HYDRA for torturing the only man you’d ever loved.

You were mad.

“Y/N,” Tony starts, but his mouth snaps shut when your head drops, a low sob falling from your lips.

“I can’t tell you, all right?” you say, barely lifting your head. “I can’t tell you, because if I start talking, I won’t stop, and then I’m gonna start crying, and if I start crying, I won’t stop. I can’t tell you, and I need that to be enough. For now.” You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face.

Tony is silent for a minute, and then he slides the glass of scotch across the counter to you. “I heard Steve gave you the green light.” The corner of his mouth quirks. “Welcome to the team.”

You toss back what’s left in the glass, make a face at the taste. “You’re not gonna make me wear some stupid outfit, are you?”

“Haven’t quite decided yet,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “Depends how dirty the inside of my car is.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“No, you won’t.”

You smirk. “No, I won’t.”

You slide the glass back across the counter, and Tony refills it. “So what happens next? You gonna stay here, help me with all those upgrades I mentioned?”

“Eventually,” you reply, nodding and taking a bite of one of the apple slices. “I’ve got a mission of my own, it would seem.”

“Oh, really?” Tony says, but throws his hands up when you shoot him a look. “So it’s all connected. Got it. Not asking.”

“Thank you,” you reply, biting another apple slice. “I’ll stay here, while I’m in the city. If you’ll have me.”

Tony scoffs. “I didn’t design your room for nothing, Y/N. It’s here when you need it. So am I.” He reaches over and steals one of your apple slices. He yelps when you smack his hand away. “Hey! That’s your you-worried-your-very-good-friend-Tony-and-you’re-very-sorry-about-it tax. Now go get some sleep; I could fly to Amsterdam for a week with the bags under your eyes.”

“Nice,” you retort, pursing your lips. “That’s really nice.”

“It’s really true,” Tony says simply, lifting a shoulder. He rounds the counter, puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” you reply, and then he’s gone.

It takes a very long time for you to bring yourself to read the file. A very long time.

You don’t want to, but the curiosity get to you. You want to know, but you don’t. But, no matter what you choose, it still happened.

“We can’t know what could have been,” Steve had sad. “We just have to deal with what is.”

You quickly learn that it’s a very good thing Armin Zola is dead. And Alexander Pierce. And Brock Rumlow. You would have had a lengthy kill list, Game of Thrones style.

Tony doesn’t pry, but offers to digitize the files, adding a retinal lock so it’s literally for your eyes only. You take him up on his offer, but it makes you wary of the tablet. There’s too many secrets. So many secrets.

Steve does some digging, Nat helps when she can, Sam drives up from Washington every few weekends to compare notes. It’s easy enough to find more information, now that all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRAs intel is out there for public consumption. There are lists of safe houses, maps of underground pathways, locations of weapons caches the world over.

You take the photo of Bucky from the folder, the one of him in his army uniform, and keep it on your bedside table. You sleep a little better, but as time passes, as you study the files more and more, putting together the timeline, the nightmares come back.

The screaming. Always the screaming, but now there’s more. The files are detailed, and those details

Steve’s room is across the hall from yours, and there’s more than a few nights that you wake with a start, your throat raw, and he opens your door a second later, concern dripping from his features. It turns into a routine, after some time. You wake up, Steve walks in, and always without a word, he crosses to your bed, gathers you into his arms, and rubs circles into your back until you fall asleep again. Most nights, he stays, and you wake up sprawled on his chest, blankets tangled around your legs.

You try to thank him a few times, but he waves you off. “If it helps, I’m happy. It worries me though.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you tell him.

“Part of my job,” he says with a wink.

You busy yourself with Tony when you can. You help with a few upgrades for the team; namely electromagnets for Steve so he can summon the shield when it’s just out of reach, and a revamped version of Sam’s Falcon suit, despite his protests that he’s “notan Avenger, I’m just here to help find the creepy metal dude.”

“Sam, he’s been brainwashed.”

“He ripped the door off my car, Y/N. With his creepy metal arm.”

“Point taken.”

Most of the leads you unearth wind up cold. It chips away at you a little more every time, and a very rude voice in the back of your head points out that, Y/N, maybe he doesn’t want to be found. But you can’t bring yourself to drop it. And Steve isn’t ready to give up either.

However, both he and Tony get pulled in when they find a lead on Loki’s sceptre. The Tower is suddenly bustling with Avengers, but right when you’re getting ready to suit up, Sam calls with a lead in Vancouver. Tony doesn’t question you beyond asking where you’re going, hugs you goodbye, and tells you to enjoy Canada.

The lead ends up cold, just like the others. The safe house is empty, looks like it hasn’t been lived in for ages, not a thing out of place. No signs of life. It feels like a punch to the stomach. Sam is at least a little sympathetic, despite his obvious distrust of Bucky. “We’ll find him, Y/N. He’s just a few steps ahead of us; we’ll catch up.”

You just nod. Sam steps outside, leaving you alone in the safe house. You give the whole place another once over, desperate to find anything you might have missed the first time.

You do.

There’s a bookshelf in the house’s small bedroom, lined with some titles you recognize, others you don’t. An entire shelf is filled with titles that prick at your memory; Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Frankenstein, The Great Gatsby, Tender is the Night. All the shelves are packed to burst, clearly the result of bored agents cooped up in the safe house for long periods of time.

On the third shelf, just below your eye level, a book is missing. There’s a mark in the dust lining the shelves, showing exactly where it had been moved from.

Your brow furrows, and without another through, your slip your hand into the gap left by the missing book. Your fingers touch metal, and your hand closes around something flat, almost rectangular. The metal is cool against your palm. You pull your hand back, and a tiny shriek falls out of you when you realize what’s in your hand.

Dog tags. Bucky’s dog tags.

JAMES B BARNES

32557038 T42 -43B

MRS Y/N BARNES

160 STATE ST

NEW YORK NY

Your fingers trace over the letters again and again.

He was here.

He was leaving you clues. He had to be.

He wanted to be found.

He’d felt bad about swiping the tags from the museum. But technically, they were his, so was it still considered stealing?

The safe house in Vancouver had been a last ditch effort. Bucky knew he needed to get out of the country, and for the time being, Canada was the safest bet. Until he could get on a plane across the ocean. Or steal one. Whichever came first.

All his senses are on overdrive, and he hears you and Sam approach. You’re not exactly quiet, but he’s so nervous, he’s pretty sure he could hear your heartbeat if he tried.

He’s standing in the bedroom, ready to make his escape out the open window when he sees the book out of the corner of his eye. A memory flashes. It’s the same version, bound in blue canvas, the title printed in black, a mountain along the top of the spine, a weird shape in the middle.

The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien.

Before he can stop himself – before he can stop him – Bucky pulls the book from the shelf, reaches into his pocket, and stuffs the tags in the space that remains. He slips the book into his go-bag, slings it over his shoulder, and disappears out the window, closing it behind him and heading for the tree line.

He doesn’t know why, but he waits. He watches. Watches you walk into the bedroom, watches your eyes scan the bookshelf, watches you reach into the empty space The Hobbit had left.

He watches you loop the chain over your head, press one of the tags to your lips, and then tuck them inside your shirt. You sink onto the bed then, your head in your hands, and for a minute, he’s worried that you’re crying, and something pangs in his chest. But when you take your hands away, there’s a grin on your face so broad and so happy that Bucky can’t help himself from grinning back.

A few days later and you’re back at the Tower, at Tony’s insistence. “You haven’t experienced a Stark party yet,” he tells you. “You’re gonna love it.”

You head up to the lab when you arrive, and find Tony and Bruce inspecting a long, brutal-looking golden sceptre, complete with a large silver blade and a blue stone at its centre. “The sceptre is alien,” Jarvis is telling Tony. “There are elements I can’t quantify.”

“So there are elements that you can.”

“The jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside. Something powerful.”

Tony cocks his head to the side. “Like a reactor?”

“Like a computer,” Jarvis replies. “I believe I’m deciphering code.”

You cross the lab quickly, and Tony nearly leaps three feet in the air when he sees you. “Jesus, Y/N! When did you and the bird-boy get back?”

Your eyes are glued to the sceptre, and you can’t look away as you approach it, your eyes focusing on the stone. “Just now. What is this thing?”

“You tell me?” Tony asks, nudging you in the side and gesturing toward the thing. “Work your magic, kiddo.”

You do as he says, cocking your head to the side, trying to find the right angle.

It hits you like a truck.

Millions of connections, too many for you to make out. An endless net of positives and negatives, working together, firing simultaneously. It’s beautiful and complicated and terrifying. The stone is…thinking. About…chaos, destruction, devastation.

“Hello,” a deep, metallic voice says.

You reel back, tripping over Tony’s stool and sprawling on the floor. He’s at your side in an instant, dropping to his knees beside you, Bruce appearing on the other side of you. “What? What is it? What did you see?”

You can’t pull your eyes away from the sceptre. “Whatever you do,” you say to Tony, “leave that thing alone. Put it in the ocean. Let Thor take it to another planet. I don’t care what you do with it, but you leave it alone.”

Your tone is as stern as you can make it, and Tony just nods like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You got it, kid.”

The party is a good distraction, and you’re happy to get dressed up and mingle, have a few drinks and gear up for what comes next. Vancouver hadn’t offered any other hints as to where he might be going next, but the tags that sit against your chest are a reminder.

He remembered. You had been right, that day on the riverbank, after he’d dragged Steve from the water.

“You know me. I know you do.”

You didn’t know where to go next, but it was a start. It was something.

So you put on a party dress and go mingle. Nat keeps feeling you glasses of wine older than her, and Tony ropes you into tequila shots at some point, and Maria checks in, asking how you’ve been since she stopped being your handler. She works for Stark Industries now, she says, so hopefully she’ll be seeing a bit more of you.

“And if you need help with anything,” she tells you, and there’s a near conspiratorial glint in her eyes, “let me know.”

You thank her with a grin and clink your glass against hers. “Noted, Agent Hill.”

Her grin matches yours.

Tony introduces you to a few more friends – James Rhodes, who you know from the S.H.I.E.L.D. files and your social media education as War Machine, and Helen Cho, a world-renowned geneticist who half-jokingly asks if she can study your DNA.

You manage to slip away from the conversation when you spot Sam and Steve chatting on the upper level. You head on up, heels clicking against the steps, just catching the end of their conversation.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam asks Steve.

Steve barks a laugh. “I don’t think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.” When you appear at his side, he loops an arm around your neck. Your hand rests on the middle of his back.

“Well, home is home, you know?” Sam says.

You’re nearly bouncing in your shoes, looking between Sam and Steve. “Have you been drinking coffee all night, Y/N? You’re practically vibrating.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something, a dirty glint in his eye, and you reach out and smack his arm hard before he can get a word out. “Hey!”

“Don’t be gross,” you say. “Did you tell him yet?”

“No,” Sam admits, rubbing the spot where you’d smacked him. “Figured you would want to.”

“Tell me what?” Steve asks, looking down at you.

By way of answer, you pull at the chain around your neck, lifting the tags from where they sit beneath the collar of your dress. You cup them in your palm and hold them towards Steve. His eyes are wide as they trace over the letters, then flick back up to your face. “At the safe house?”

You nod. “Tucked between some books. It’s a start.”

Steve hugs you close, nose buried in your hair. “It is.”

The rest of the evening seems to pass you by; you’re too preoccupied with the tags settled against your heart to really notice anything else.

Except one thing.

You’re lounging around the bar with Nat. She’s shaking up some fancy thing she calls a kvasya and keeps feeding you glasses of wine. You catch up, swap stories, and after a while you find yourself talking about Bucky.

“I never pictured him with long hair,” you admit, leaning against the bar.

“And the metal arm didn’t throw you off?” she asks, sliding another drink towards you. “That’s really what’s getting to you, his hair?”

Bruce saunters up to the bar then, and something about the way he greets Nat has you making yourself scarce, joining Maria on one of the couches in the middle of the room. You sit, and watch.

It’s flirty, between Nat and Bruce; anyone with a pulse could see that. They’re like lovesick teenagers, blushing and fumbling over their words. It’s not hard to miss.

What you do notice, however, is Steve, leaning against a pillar, watching the whole scene unfold before him. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his jaw is clenched so hard you’re pretty sure you could cut glass with it.

He’s jealous.

You hang around for the rest of the night – only disappearing briefly to deposit a very drunk Sam in one of the guest bedrooms – and when Ultron shows up, you shoot daggers at Tony.

Peace in our time.

“I told you to leave it alone,” you growl.

“I know,” he whispers, pulling you down behind one of the now overturned couches. “You can yell at me some more later, okay?”

You want to punch him, but before you get the chance, there’s a metal hand on the back of your neck, lifting you into the air. You let out a scream as your senses kick into overdrive, but it’s the same as what happened in the lab. Chaos, destruction, devastation. You clutch the sides of your head, trying to push the images out, your legs kicking wildly in the air.

You hear the familiar whistle of Steve’s shield flying through the air, metal connecting with metal. There’s a crackle of electricity, and your body drops into waiting arms. Steve. You’re still conscious, but you can’t open your eyes.

“Barton!” Steve shouts, and you’re being shuffled into someone else’s arms. Clint. “Get her out of here. The residence. Don’t go anywhere near the lab.”

You cling to Clint as he carries you through the now ruined level, heading for the stairs. He makes it up a few flights with you in his arms, but you start to feel stronger the further away you are from wherever…it is. “You can put me down now,” you tell him. He does as you say, carefully, and shoots an arm around your waist when your knees nearly buckle, pulling your arm around his shoulders.

“Easy.”

You make small talk as best as you can as he leads you up the stairs.

“So, how long have you all had to deal with the Steve-Nat-Bruce love triangle?”

Clint just blinks. “What?”

You stifle a giggle. “Never mind.”

Your head pounds with every step, and you nearly cry with relief when you reach your bedroom. Clint hangs around for a minute, gets you a glass of water, and then disappears out the door. You send a message to Steve, tell him you’re okay, and collapse into a dreamless sleep.

You wake sometime later, restless as anything. The Tower is quiet, most of the wreckage cleaned up and security measures doubled while you all get some rest. Your head is still throbbing slightly, but it’s nothing a snack can’t fix, and you pad you way into the residence kitchen, tablet in hand. Maybe some late night reading will help you sleep. Or it’ll make it worse. It’s a toss up, really.

Tony finds you a some time later, head in your hands, neck bent over the tablet. The moment you hear him enter, you click away from the folder you’d been studying – it was one of the newer files you’d acquired, and the details you’re reading feel like ice down your spine – and swipe your hand under your eyes.

“How you feeling, kid?” he asks, walking past you towards the fridge, pulling out one of those mini cartons of orange juice. He tosses one your way, and you catch it easily.

“You realize I’ve got nearly a century on you, Tony. Shouldn’t I be the one calling you kid?”

He just laughs, folding his carton open and taking a sip. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I really need to get in the habit of listening to you, don’t I?” You open your mouth to say something, but he holds up a hand. “We’re handling it, okay? I promise. And after your little…episode downstairs, Steve and I agreed on one thing, and you’re sitting this one out.”

For once, you don’t argue. You’re more than happy to stay away from…that.

Tony juts his chin towards the tablet’s now dark surface. “Care to share what you’re studying so intently at four in the morning?”

You shake your head, brushing your fingers over the glass screen. “You don’t get to ask.”

“But do I get to guess?”

You sigh. “It’s nothing, Tony. Just something I offered to help Steve with.”

“The elusive missing metal man that tossed him into the harbour,” Tony says instantly, and you’re a mix of anger and relief. You didn’t like keeping things from Tony, but if he figured it out, there wasn’t much you could do.

“He pulled him out of the harbour too, just for the record.” You pause, sip your juice. “How do you know about Bucky?”

Tony scoffs, steps towards you and perches on the stool beside the one you’re occupying. “Rogers is a lot of things, but tech savvy s not one of them. Sure, I might have been snooping, but it’s hardly a security breach when you made the security.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“That I admitted to snooping?”

You shake your head. “No, that you said he’s not tech savvy. You know Sam bought him an Apple Watch so they could start timing their runs together? Steve can’t shut up about it.” You let out a little laugh, the memory surfacing. On the drive back to New York, after the Triskelion, Steve had excitedly shown you the watch, flipping through all the different faces. He was especially fond of the Toy Story options – the movie had been a favourite for both of you when you’d been in recovery – and Sam had helped him make a custom one that had his shield as the clock face.

“Tell me something, Y/N,” Tony says suddenly, pulling you our of your reverie. “You and Rogers?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and you bark a laugh. “Couples you get frozen in ice for seventy years together, stay together? No?”

You keep laughing, shaking your head. “No, Tony. Steve is my friend, nothing more. My best friend most likely.”

“Ouch,” he says, feigning hurt. “But really, no special men in your life?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Tony Stark, you better not be flirting with me.”

“I would never. You knew my father, therefore you know too much. I was just curious, if Rogers had stolen your heart. The way you two interact, I just figured…” He trails off, lifting a shoulder.

“I was married, actually,” you say after a moment, fingers toying with the edge of your juice carton. “Still am, I guess. Technically. Since we’re both still alive.” You look down at the dark tablet, sip your orange juice.

Tony just stares at you, mouth gaped like a fish. “Wait a second. You and the metal man?”

“He was just Bucky back then. No metal arm, none of it. He was just him, an he was the love of my life.” You recount a little of the story; the bookstore, the wedding, the train. Tony listens intently, sipping his juice and asking the occasional question.

“But he knows, that you’re alive. In this century.”

You nod. “I think so. There was this moment, in D.C., when he looked at me. I saw it in his eyes. He knew me. For a second, and then he was shooting at me. But when I dropped the shield, he took off.”

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know if they’re happy or sad. You feel way too much, all at once. You don’t realize that they’re falling down your cheeks until Tony puts an arm around your shoulder, pulls you into his chest. The tears quickly turn into sobs you’ve been holding back for a while now, and your throat burns with them. Tony just runs his hand over your head over and over, shushing you gently until the tears subside.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out. “I owe you a new shirt.”

He waves you off. “What are dry cleaners for?” He finishes his juice, tosses the empty carton. “I should head to bed. You gonna be okay, kid?”

You nod. “I’ll live.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers, and drops a kiss to the crown of your head before sauntering towards the door. “Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn in your seat to meet his eyes, a twinkle in them that reminds you of Howard. “Yeah?”

“For what it’s worth, I think my old man would be proud of you, choosing to fight for what you love. I know I am.”

You smile. “Aren’t I supposed to be mad at you?”

He gives you one last grin, and then he’s gone, leaving you in the silent kitchen, alone with your thoughts one more.

Not sure what else to do, you click on the tablet and sift through the files once more, eyes nearly glazing over as you read the same information over again. His capture in Azzano, Zola’s torture at the facility in Austria, the fall from the train, the missions and cry.

When you read the end of the report on the Triskelion, however, something clicks.

The light blue cover of a book, steel blue eyes, words printed beneath mountains.

The Hobbit.

Or, as you’d recently discovered it was also known as, There and Back Again.

There, and back again.

There,

and

back

again.

Austria. Where it had all started. Where he’d first been experimented on.

You pull your phone out of your pocket immediately, pulling up Sam’s contact and typing out a message. He won’t answer, still sleeping off the Asgardian whiskey Thor had gotten him to try, but you have to tell him.

When was the last time you were in Europe?

—————

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bucky barnes tags: @thomasthetankson @matchat3a @moonlarking @whosfrankie @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @itwasthereaminuteago @williamjzanders @enchantingqueenkitten @minxsblog @a-zterisk @randomwords3000 @i-simp-much @loonymagizoologist @pariahsparadise @greeneyedblondie44 @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @alyona-romanova @mrssarahpaulsooonn @katiebby04 @wh0reforbucknasty @shadowzena43 @arson-tm @evanstanwhore

#the way we were / the way we are #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #the winter soldier fic #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x y/n #my fics

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new-eyes-extra-colors · 11 months

Note

WIP asks: 1, 6, 9, 11, 20

1, 6, 9, and 11 answered here, but I'm going to do some of them again because I can! Under the cut because this post is miles long.

9. What is your favorite dialogue you’ve written so far?

“So do you have another case you’re working on?” Nat bounced on the balls of her feet, looking at him eagerly. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Well, we’ll see once I get back to the office.” He cracked a smile. “What, Ellie only shared the one with you?”

Nat planted her hands on her hips. “Ellie went out with Piper and Nora last night and didn’t get back till late, so she’s still asleep.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “And maybe she came back a little tipsy. So maybe you’re out a secretary today, detective.”

Nick chuckled. “Glad she got to unwind. What about Nora?”

“She went back to your office last night and wasn’t here this morning, so I guess she’s still there.”

Huh. Probably got restless and decided to pore over some cases. God knows he could relate.

Nat crossed her arms again. “But she’s your partner, not your secretary, so it kinda sounds like you still have a staffing problem.”

Nick paused, and then leaned away, squinting at her. Most folks might’ve been intimidated being under that level of scrutiny from a synth, but Nat knew him well. She set her jaw and stared back.

“What’re you on about, kid?”

“I’m glad you asked. I could be your secretary for the day.”

“Yeah? Does Ellie know you’re gunning for her job?”

“I’m not! It would just be today.” Nat winced. “And maybe tomorrow. And the rest of the week. And you wouldn’t even have to pay me!”

“That ain’t how employment works, kiddo.”

“Oh, yeah? And how much did you charge your client after her lousy husband took off with their savings?”

Alright. Maybe Nat knew him too well. Nick could only look away.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” She deflated a little, arms dropping back to her sides. “Besides, the real payment would be not having to go to school.”

He leveled a serious look at her. “Why? Is that Kawolski kid bothering you again? Piper, uh, told me what happened.”

“What, that I knocked him on his ass?”

Nick bit back a laugh. “Language, Nat.”

11. What scene are you most hyped for this chapter/fic?

I'm really excited to iron out the scenes that lead up to the confrontation with Kellogg. It's where the canon divergence in the fic really starts, and I'm hoping to get an "uh, what the hell is going on with that?" reaction from readers. Plus, it's got a big cast--Glory, Deacon, Preston, Piper, and Nick are all there, plus a few minor characters, and I love writing things where a group gets to bounce off each other. Actually, here, have some more, from the scene following the confrontation:

“Weird that they didn’t call for backup,” Glory said.

“Maybe the storm’s interfering with their communications, too,” Preston suggested.

“Maybe.” Glory shook her head. “I dunno. Something’s going on and I don’t like it. Kellogg was their best field operative. This was way too easy.”

Deacon scoffed. “Easy?” He lifted the skeletal hand of a dead synth by the wrist and dropped it for effect. “There were dozens of these guys, Glo.”

“Man, don’t be a jackass.” Deacon just shrugged against the force of her glare. “There were maybe thirty.”

Nora pulled her gaze away from the synth’s limp hand to look at Glory. “You were counting?”

Glory scuffed her boot against the concrete, nonchalant, or at least trying to be. “I mean, yeah. I think I missed a few outside, though.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Glory was counting dead synths. Nick was getting patched up in the next room. He was so close to being one of them.

“I don’t know if easy is the word I would use,” Preston started diplomatically, “but we could have done a lot worse. No casualties on our side is good.”

20. Share 3 images that would fit to a mood board for this chapter/fic.

would you believe i've never made a mood board in my life How about three in-progress illustrations I'm working on for it...?

That third one is old, but I'm working on drafting up a more detailed redraw of it for another thing I'm working on. I'm also still trying to decide if I want to do like illustrated chapter title cards or something similar for the fic itself. (Opinions welcome!)

#augh sorry this took so long it got lost in my drafts #ty for the ask!!#i am SO CLOSE to being able to post full chapters i'm so excited. i also love big tarot-adjacent illustrations #fic: until dawn #autumn.fic

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sjsmith56 · 6 months

Text

The Plan - Part 23, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary: After the final battle against Thanos the remaining Avengers are transported to a military base. Steve gives the order that Bucky is to be protected at all times, expecting that the authorities will try to take him into custody. After getting Bucky’s status clarified, Steve takes his friend to see Rebecca, still alive. He also breaks the news that he plans to return to the past but explains why.

Length: 8.8 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Colonel Rhodes, Sam Wilson, King T’Challa, assorted Avengers and military types

Warnings: Steve leaving (reasons obviously not canon, but it’s an interpretation), Bucky feeling abandoned, the military trying (and failing) to take Bucky for their own purposes, sad reunion with Rebecca.

Author’s notes: Told from Bucky’s POV as he tries to make sense of what will happen to him. Like many other fans, Steve’s leaving felt unnatural and unsatisfying to me. This one shot is my take on one possible reason why he did it, and why Bucky accepted it, even though it still bothered him. It also formed the basis for another fanfic story I wrote Stopping Winter, that details what Steve was up to on his return to the 1940s. If you wish to read this it is currently a WIP on Wattpad, AO3, and FanFiction.net under my username, SJSmith56.

<<Part 22

⭐️⭐️⭐️

The fight was over, and we won but we also lost. Tony Stark finally proved to all of his detractors that he could make the ultimate sacrifice and he did, saving the universe from a being that made HYDRA look like school children but losing his life in the process. The last time I had seen him was when Steve and I left him in Siberia, in a broken Iron Man suit, while we hightailed it for Wakanda. That was the time he wanted to kill me for being the one who took his parent's lives. It wasn't how I wanted to resolve things with him, not that it's really possible to resolve anything when you're fighting together on the battlefield.

When many of us rematerialized in Wakanda seemingly right after the battle we lost, we didn't know it had been five years ... five years of not being in existence, then several sorcerers appeared and told us to get armed as the fight had resumed, only this time in New York State. None of us got a chance to ask about anything, or anyone. None of us were given the opportunity to deal with the fact that the world had changed while we were ... just gone. We had to walk through one of those weird portals into another battlefield, a hellish one at that and meet a different version of Thanos. Just as dangerous but now determined to snap everyone out of existence.

It seemed like an eternity of fighting, shooting, close combat with more nightmare creatures, until Stark raised his hand, with the stones on them, the power of them tearing him apart, and stating defiantly, "I am Iron Man," before snapping his fingers and sending Thanos and all of his legions into oblivion. Then he fell against a concrete block where a kid started crying over him then a beautiful blonde woman, his wife I was told, smiled kindly at him and told him to rest. He closed his eyes and died. I never got to tell him how sorry I was that it was me that killed his parents, me that put that everlasting pain of loss into his heart.

As portals opened to send some of the combatants back to their country, even back to their planet, I stood there, unsure of what to do. I was still wanted and once the authorities found me on the battlefield with the others, I was sure they were going to arrest me, and shuffle me off to a secure prison before putting me on trial, or court martial, find me guilty and put me in front of a firing squad. But I was done with running, done with hiding, so I waited for the inevitable to happen. As I waited, several of the others, the Avengers, slowly gathered around me. At first, I thought they were there to help take me in then Steve looked over at me, nodded, and pressed his comms. I could hear his command through my comms earpiece, and I almost cried when he said it.

"Protect Bucky," he said. "No one takes him in. He's one of us."

It was King T'Challa who spoke next. "We are here, Captain," he said. "Wakanda will stand with you and the Avengers."

When trucks were sent to transport us to a military base there were armed guards waiting to take me but the looks they received from the others and the order Steve gave them to stand down was confirmed. They stood aside as we all boarded the trucks. Steve made sure I was beside him.

"What happened?" I asked. "I remember my hand beginning to disintegrate then nothing until I was suddenly standing up in Wakanda."

He smiled at me. "Wait until we get into one place, all together, and we'll explain it all," he replied. "We all need a shower and a change of clothes, but we'll tell you everything, I promise."

The trip from the desolation of the battlefield to a base with green grass and trees was less than an hour's duration but we could feel our hearts lift at the change as the sun shone on us and the sound of birdsong was all around. When the truck stopped in front of a barracks building an officer stepped to the open end of the truck and looked for Steve, making eye contact with him.

"Captain Rogers?" he said. "I have orders to take Sergeant Barnes into custody."

"No," said Steve, stepping towards the officer. "He stays with us."

"Sir, it's not negotiable," said the officer. "This comes from the Joint Chiefs."

"He's an Avenger, and we just defeated an alien force from decimating the entire world," stated Steve. "We're hungry, dirty, and tired. But we're all willing to fight for Bucky Barnes, because he's one of us. That's also not negotiable." He looked back at all of us, receiving nods of agreement from the others. "You really want to be the guy who picks a fight with us? Because I could fight all day."

I smiled. Some things didn't change. The man looked very frustrated then stepped back.

"Let them go," he said to the armed guard. Then he turned to Steve. "He's your responsibility, Cap. If he goes after anyone, we'll take him down."

"If anyone tries to hurt him in any way, I'll take them down," replied Steve. "He's to be given the respect due to a Sergeant in the Army, which he is, who has been a PoW for 70 years, because he was. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, crystal clear. I'll pass the word."

Only then did Steve jump out the back and we all followed. The lieutenant led us to the barracks and directed us to a hallway where we could pick our own rooms. He said there were toiletries and clothing ready for us. Then he looked at how big I was, along with another guy with long blond hair who was even bigger than me, saying he would bring bigger sized clothing for us. Steve insisted we bunk together, not trusting the military to keep their word and leave me alone. It was easy enough to carry a bed from one room into his, along with a locker, and the personal items that were there for us. While I waited for my change of clothes Steve had a shower, coming out wrapped in a towel. A soldier knocked on the door and dropped off some military athletic wear for me, a sweatshirt, sweatpants, underwear, socks, and what he called sneakers. They hardly weighed anything, and I wasn't sure they would hold up. Steve smiled.

"They are really comfortable," he said. "Once we debrief and get out of here, I'll take you shopping, and we'll get you some regular clothes. Go, have your shower."

Entering into the bathroom I stripped down and turned the shower on, stepping under the very warm stream. In Wakanda the water in the hut had been lukewarm which was fine in the heat, but this water was hot, and I let it hit my back, angling it so the spray went right between my shoulder blades. There was shampoo so I washed my hair, running it through my fingers so it wouldn't get tangled. I noticed then that unlike my HYDRA hand my hair didn't get tangled in the plates of this vibranium hand. It was definitely an enjoyable sensation. Before I came out, I peeked to make sure no one else was in the room as I was still a bit leery of people seeing my body. The scars had faded but were still quite prominent to me, and the arm and shoulder unit were definitely topics of a conversation that I really didn't want to have. Fortunately, Steve was alone.

"How's the new arm?" he asked, making me swear inside my head but he was Steve, so I gave him a pass.

"It's good. Much lighter than the other, stronger too. Just noticed when I washed my hair that it didn't get tangled in the plates. It always did with my other one."

He took a deep breath then and I knew he had news for me, likely bad news at that. I was shocked when he told me something else entirely.

"Rebecca is still alive," he said. "She survived the Snap and still lives in the retirement home in New Jersey. I think we should go see her."

"Freckles?" I asked. "She's what, 93 now? No, she doesn't remember me."

"She does and she wants to see you," said Steve. "She told me at her birthday party. The hippies and Grant Allman came out for it as well. Megan drove Summer, her dad James, and Tamsin. She's graduated from college, honours degree in political science. Grant went with me. It was a great day."

"You were all there together," I said, not believing him.

"We were all invited to her birthday party," he replied, as this shit-eating grin spread across his face. "You would have loved it. She has another three great grandchildren. There were balloons, streamers, and a big chocolate cake."

"How did you meet Grant?" I asked, surprised they had connected.

"He contacted me," said Steve. "He went to all the safe houses on the list you gave him. Used the money to change his life, helped quite a few veterans to get through some problems, and helped accumulate HYDRA files on you."

I sat down. They knew everything. Knew what I had done. Steve saw my face and stopped smiling, his face becoming serious.

"Bucky, we have the evidence to prove you were tortured, brainwashed, and forced to become the Winter Soldier," he said. "Despite what the Joint Chiefs of Staff believe they have no case against you. We were working on getting you a posthumous pardon, now we'll re-file the motion as a pardon for a living person. You'll probably have to appear in court, but we'll make sure we get you a good lawyer who will represent you properly. With the witnesses we have willing to testify to your character after you left HYDRA, they'll accept that you are not the Winter Soldier anymore. T'Challa will also provide the medical documentation of everything they found when they deprogrammed you."

For a time, I said nothing, just put my clothes on. "What if I believe I deserve punishment?" I asked. "I did all those things, Steve. I killed all those people. My journals are full of them. Speaking of which, where are my journals?"

Suddenly, I felt anxious as my whole being was in those books. My heart started to pound as I contemplated that they were all gone. Steve came over to my bunk and kneeled before me.

"They're in a safe location, still in Wakanda," he said. "All of the HYDRA files that we found, and that were found on your behalf are being stored in a secure place in New Jersey. They've been digitized." I looked at him, confused by what that meant. "Put into computer format. Bucky, do you remember Jovan Sakić?"

I nodded. He was the Roma leader in Croatia, born in New Jersey.

"He's been searching as well, not just your files, but all of HYDRA's files. Many of his people were victims. When you stood up for them in Zagreb, they adopted you as one of their own, meaning your fight is their fight. He's also watched out for Rebecca, making sure she has everything she needs."

I rubbed my hands on my face. All these people, who I had accepted help from had determined that I helped them and were paying it back, trying to help me clear my name. It was overwhelming and I didn't know what to say. Which was just as well as there was a knock on the door. Steve opened it to a man I remembered meeting in Wakanda. Rhodes was his name, I think. He came in and acknowledged me.

"Sergeant," he said, then he turned to Steve. "I hear they tried to take custody of Barnes. Sam and I talked to the lieutenant, and he tried to tell us the order came from the Joint Chiefs. I phoned my source in Washington, and it didn't. It came from the Military Intelligence Corps. We're pretty sure they want to "examine" Sergeant Barnes, then second him to their command."

"You mean turn me into their asset," I said. "Fucking unbelievable."

"I agree," said Rhodes. "So, I phoned the President. We've golfed several times. He has agreed to remand you to the custody of Cap here. It was the best I could do. Where he goes, you go. But if you step out of line...."

"Yeah, I get it," I said. "I'll behave. I'm not the Soldier anymore. Thank you for getting that at least."

"Hey, if it was up to me, I would show the whole world what was done to you, so they know how true evil works," said Rhodes. "HYDRA made you their weapon, but they had people who were high up in government, industry, and the military who were the ones making the decisions. They're the real criminals and some of them were in the perfect position to play one side against the other. Wars were started because of some of these people and their influence is still at play as some in command still refuse to believe they were compromised."

"Thanks, Rhodey," said Steve. "We should meet up in the mess for some food, and a debrief for those who reappeared. Bucky said they weren't given any time to adjust before coming to the battlefield."

"Sounds good, I'll pass the word."

He headed out and Steve looked at me. "Hungry?"

"Starving," I replied. "Even for army food."

We headed towards the mess hall, picking up more of the Avengers and a few others, including the talking raccoon, who eyed my arm, a tree person, a green skinned woman, and several other alien looking people. Steve said the green skinned woman was Thanos’ daughter, as was another blue skinned woman who seemed to have more cybernetic parts to her than I did. Both turned against him, so I guess their help was invaluable. When T'Challa and several Dora Milaje appeared all conversation from the regular military stopped. The women all made faces at the food but T'Challa said something in Wakandan that made me laugh. I didn't pass it on to the others, but I couldn't disagree with him that it was at least edible.

Once we had eaten our fill and Steve asked if we could use the mess hall for a debriefing, he stood in front of everyone, looking at every single person in turn.

"First of all, thank you for your efforts," he said. "We were able to find a way to bring all of you who disappeared back. When Thanos snapped his fingers in 2018, he had one thought on his mind ... that half of all living things disappeared. There was no rhyme or reason to it. His thought spread throughout the galaxy, possibly the universe and it wasn't limited to sentient life. Even animals disappeared. Then one of the Avengers, Scott Lang, who was trapped in a quantum dimension when it happened, was able to return and realized that for him only hours had passed in the almost 5 years that passed in this realm. I won't get into the science behind that. Those of you who are interested can talk directly to Bruce Banner, as he was part of the team that designed the replacement gauntlet and built the machine that transported us. Basically, we had to go back in time, using the quantum dimension, to where the stones still existed, borrow them, and bring them here to snap everyone back into existence. A complication occurred ... mainly a past version of Thanos found out and planted a spy in our midst who helped him get to this time and this place. That's how we found ourselves fighting him again. Except this time, we succeeded."

There was an increase in general comments and side conversations then Steve asked for our attention again.

"The stones that we brought from the past ... they have to go back to the exact moment we took them, otherwise we risk creating multiple timelines that will deviate from the original one and we've been warned that's a very bad thing. Unfortunately, one of the first things Thanos did when he arrived was to destroy the device we used to travel in time. Bruce, I'm going to ask if you can oversee digging it up and if there is anyone here with any kind of knowledge that can help rebuild at least one station, I'll volunteer to return the stones to where and when they belong."

"I will help," said Shuri, standing up. "I have the knowledge, despite how young I look."

"I'd like a try at it, Cap," said a gravelly voice, then the raccoon stood on top of his table. "I can build just about anything. That's no bullshit."

"My dad," said Hope Van Dyne. "He created the Pym particles that you apparently used to do this. I'm sure he would help. So would my mom. They're both geniuses."

"Alright," smiled Steve. "We have a plan. Bruce, Princess Shuri, Rocket, Hank Pym, and Janet Van Dyne will do what they can to rebuild the device. I would also ask that you all stay at or near the base until we have a memorial for Tony Stark. We owe him that much. I'll find out what I can about it. Until then we're based here. Try not to be too hard on the soldiers. They're not used to this many unusual people in one place."

With Steve finished and talking to some of the others Sam came and sat next to me, nodding at me in acknowledgement.

"What?" I asked, still not warmed up to him.

"How are you doing?" he asked and I looked at him before looking away, not answering. "Don't do that. I'm genuinely interested. I have a background in counselling veterans with PTSD. I know that I personally am having issues about being gone for 5 years. I still haven't phoned my sister and I'd like to take a side trip to see her .... Sorry, see what I mean? You have other issues, Buck. Being dissolved and watching as it happens doesn't help dealing with them."

"Don't call me Buck," I said. "To you I'm Bucky or Barnes. Only Steve gets to call me Buck."

"Fine, Bucky," he said, emphasizing the extra syllable.

I just shook my head. The guy was an asshole and probably thought the same of me. Which I didn't mind because I knew I could also be an asshole, had known since I could think. Then I let go of some of my aggression and looked at him.

"I know you mean well," I said. "I really do but I'm quite messed up. The only place I felt good was Wakanda and now I'm not there. They wanted to take me into custody here, the Military Intelligence Corps. Doesn't take much to know that they want my skills. I don't want to kill anymore. I did what I could to protect the human race from Thanos, but I can't do any more than that, not again."

He listened then gazed seriously at me. "I get that," he said. "You were under someone else's control for so long that your freedom to choose is important, really important to you. I'm going to make a suggestion. Whether you listen or not is up to you. Get a therapist, someone who can listen to you objectively, and help you work through your issues. You have 70 years of imprisonment and slavery to deal with. No one can do it on their own. You've lost most of your family, most of your friends, and you're a man out of your time. I know we didn't get along so well at times and that reflects my own biases. For that, I'm sorry. But I am invested in your future. If you need someone to talk to just call me. I'll pick up the phone."

He stood up, patted my shoulder then left me. Why the hell did he do that? Made himself helpful ... damn, I hated that. But Steve liked him, and I knew the little shit would pester me to be more friendly with Sam. Despite my misgivings I was going to have to trust someone.

Steve approached me again. "I've arranged transport for us into town tomorrow to get some clothing, and other necessities," he said.

"I have no money," I replied.

"I do," he said, pulling a wallet out of his combat pants. "I always carry my wallet."

"Punk," I muttered, receiving a big grin from him.

The rest of the evening was spent with Steve constantly being in demand while I sat back and cooled my heels. Only the Wakandans stayed near, occasionally making a comment in their language. Nothing offensive, just observations of life in America. It wasn't that the others were afraid of me, or maybe it was to a degree, but just that they didn't know me. I was the new one and the one with a dark past.

The following morning we met up with an older army sergeant, Dan Hobbs. He saluted Steve, even though Steve said he wasn't in the army anymore. Then he looked at me making me feel like I was being evaluated. He must have been an instructor at some point because of what he told me.

"I've read some of the HYDRA files on you," he finally said. "I read that you were trained as a sniper, and they were pleased about that because your instincts as a sniper would be kept intact and they wouldn't have to expend any effort in training in you in that, or in most of your combat skills for that matter."

"Yes, Sarge," I replied. "That's my understanding."

"That was good thinking on their part," he noted. "You boys that were trained as snipers for World War II learned from the best. I respect your skills, Sergeant Barnes, but if you try to escape while we're out, I've been ordered to shoot to kill."

"I have nowhere to go Sarge," I answered. "I'm not looking to escape. I just want some real clothes to wear. Not that there's anything wrong with these.”

He grinned. "Understood. Let's go, my truck is in the parking lot."

The trip into the nearest town didn't take long but Sergeant Hobbs wouldn't shut the hell up. He had an opinion on everything, from the colour of the street name signs to the way young men cut their hair, or didn't cut their hair, as he gave my long locks a good long look. He came with us to the clothing store, always inserting his opinion on one piece of clothing over another. Not that it really mattered because it had been so long since I had bought clothes that I just wanted to get the first things I could and get the hell out of there. After determining what size I needed we began going through the shelves or hangers and picking things out. Most of it was black or dark in colour, black or dark blue jeans (as I had become used to wearing them when I lived in Romania), T-shirts (mostly dark colours), underwear, socks, and a comfortable pair of black lace up boots. The sneakers were fine but they didn't feel right for walking. As we were walking past a display, I saw the shirts I really liked, advertised as Henley's, long sleeved T-shirts but with a button up collar. I found my size and grabbed several, not caring about the colour.

"What about a jacket?" asked Steve. "Black?"

"Black," I confirmed. "I need gloves as well."

"Can I give you some advice Barnes?" asked Hobbs, then didn't wait for an answer. "I figure at some point you're going to have to appear in court, either to face trial or to give your testimony in the likely investigation of how deeply HYDRA had infiltrated the military. Cut your hair and wear a suit, with a tie. Don't show up with that long hair and don't wear blue jeans. Present yourself as a real man and they'll respect you right away. Show your metal hand. I know you have a different one now which is good, because different will distance you from those Nazis. I guess what I'm trying to say is you have to represent yourself as a good man and how you look when you walk into that courtroom could set the stage for how they treat you."

It was good advice and I acknowledged it but I had reached the end of my tether for being out in public so Steve said we could leave buying a suit to another day. Hobbs drove us back and we headed back to the barracks with my haul. We had missed lunch so both of us were already feeling the effects of not having enough food to sustain us. Just before we entered the door to our room a private brought a note to Steve and he made a face, then shook his head.

"They're not happy that I challenged their authority about taking you into custody," he said. "I've been called to the CO's office to explain myself. You're not invited."

"You think they might try again while you're gone?" I asked.

"They shouldn't, not if the President has intervened," he replied. "I better find Rhodey and tell him about this. He might want to come with me. In the meantime, I'm sure we can find somewhere for you to be, surrounded by friends."

For a moment he said nothing, as if he wanted to talk about something serious then someone knocked on the door. He was definitely in demand. This time it was Sam.

"Just noticed an armed guard outside," he said. "I'm thinking they're here for Bucky."

"Shit," said Steve. "I've been called to the CO's office to explain why I intervened. Have you seen Rhodey?"

"In his quarters," said Sam. "What's the plan?"

"Gather everyone," said Steve. "Bucky isn't to be left alone for them to grab him. He's still under Avengers protection. Make sure T'Challa and the Dora Milaje are aware of this. The Wakandans, Thor, and Peter are our strongest fighters, although I hope it doesn't come down to that." He looked at me. "Let's go find Rhodey."

After filling Rhodes in we went to the mess hall where everyone else had gathered. Sitting me in the middle of the group Steve and Rhodes went to the CO's office. As soon as they left the armed guard came in and headed straight towards us. Before they could get to me the Dora Milaje stood in their way.

Now, anyone who has never seen the Dora Milaje before tends to underestimate them. They think they are decorative in purpose, exotic looking women surrounding a foreign king as part of his "harem." Nothing could be further from the truth. They are bodyguards first, but their structure is military, with a general, Okoye, who commands them with the toughness of any drill sergeant I ever encountered. Armed with their vibranium spears, and their intricate knowledge of hand-to-hand combat they are fearsome warriors. The corporal who attempted to order them aside found out the hard way that no one tells the Dora Milaje what to do.

"Move aside, ma'am," he said, smirking at her. "We have orders to take Sergeant Barnes into custody."

"No," was Okoye's simple response.

Then he tried to push her aside and met an immovable force. As everyone else in our group tensed up, ready for a fight, King T'Challa stepped forward.

"Corporal," he said, in his deceptively calm voice, "you do not want to proceed any further. General Okoye has committed to keeping Sergeant Barnes from harm and she will not let you pass."

"General ...," smirked the corporal. "In case you haven't noticed we're armed with guns. Your spears will not be enough to keep us from Barnes."

A slight uprising of her lips was the only indicator that Okoye was amused but she still didn't stand down. Visibly irritated the corporal attempted once again to get past her and found himself on the floor. Before his guards could even react the five other members of the Dora Milaje who were there disarmed the others and had them on the floor as well. The others in our group just watched and let it happen, knowing the guards needed to be taught an object lesson. When another squad of armed men arrived, the others stood up, even me but Sam gently touched my arm.

"Let us handle it," he said. "I'm guessing they're trying to goad you into reacting, giving them an excuse to take you with force."

I nodded but all of my instincts were on alert, and I could feel the adrenaline flowing through me, as HYDRA had always conditioned me to accept the fight response, rather than the flight option. That is where Steve, Rhodes, and Sergeant Hobbs found us, in this tense standoff. Using his sergeant's voice, Hobbs called the soldiers off, ordering them to stand down then stand at attention while he addressed them. When the corporal objected, I had to smile as the shorter Hobbs stood in front of the younger man and glared at him.

"What part of that order did you not understand, Patterson?" he asked. "Who ordered you to come here and create an international incident?"

"Sarge?" he asked, genuinely confused. I almost felt sorry for him. "I ... uh, a Captain Meriweather."

"From the Military Intelligence Division, am I right?" he asked. Patterson nodded. "Do you normally obey orders from someone not affiliated with the base? The order that Sergeant Barnes was not to be bothered was given by the Commander in Chief. The Commander in Chief! You know who that is, right?"

"The President?" winced the young corporal. "But Sarge, Captain Meriweather ...."

"Is in the CO's office right now, explaining why he just tried to countermand the President's order." Hobbs looked past Patterson at all the other soldiers, then raised his voice so that any other soldier in the mess hall could hear him. "Just so you all understand ... Sergeant Barnes is a sergeant in the United States Army. He was a prisoner of war for 70 years until he escaped from his captors. The President has given him permission not to report for duty until his legal issues have been resolved, which includes him being free to retain legal counsel and to go about his way unhindered. Until then he is to be given the respect due a man in his position. I had the privilege of spending some time with Sergeant Barnes today, and in my opinion, he is a man who I want on my six." He looked back at me, our eyes meeting. He nodded at me, and I nodded back. "If I hear any sort of disrespect spoken of Sergeant Barnes, I can make sure that some extra training can be added to everyone's daily duties. Dismissed."

As everyone in our group stood down the soldiers picked up their guns from the floor and slinked off under the watchful eye of Sergeant Dan Hobbs. With both of them shaking their heads at what almost happened Steve and Rhodes approached us.

"Well, good thing the CO had already called Washington to confirm the order," said Rhodes. "That Captain Meriweather tried to do an end run around it, claiming he wasn't aware of the President becoming involved. That just irritated the President and the CO even further. Sarge, you still have to have an escort, but it's not limited to Steve anymore. It's been expanded to include Sam, and me, if you trust us."

"The CO has also assigned me a vehicle so we can go see Rebecca tomorrow," said Steve. "On the way back, we'll stop to see a lawyer that Grant found for you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it, all of it."

I did appreciate it, but everything seemed to be happening so fast that I was having trouble keeping up. At that moment I could feel a headache coming on. Since it was almost dinner time, I ate but as soon as I was done, I told Steve I just wanted to rest. Even though we had slept the night before it wasn't a good sleep as we were both still filled with the adrenaline of the battle. After getting the necessities taken care of during the day we both wanted some time to relax. As we talked while we got ready for bed we reminisced about the times when we slept over at each other's homes. It was a lifetime ago but in the dark of that barracks room it felt right. Just before I fell asleep, I thought of something.

"Steve?"

"Uh huh?" he mumbled.

"We're gonna get a place together, back in Brooklyn, aren't we?" I asked.

There was no reply then I could hear him breathe out. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said. "I'd like that, but I only have a one-bedroom flat."

It sounded like there were other things going on that he wouldn't give me a straight answer to but I didn't want to push it, even though I could feel the anxiety beginning to build again. I had to trust Steve. So far he hadn't let me down.

The following morning, we were about half an hour away from the base when Steve finally stopped talking about mundane things and came clean.

"I'm not making any plans because I'm not sure I'm staying," he said.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"It's not really a where but a when," he said. He glanced at me and my face must have alarmed him. "Give me moment to explain."

He told me about how they went back to various points in time to take the stones, at times and places they knew they would be available. To keep those timelines going the way they should the stones had to be replaced at the exact same moment and time.

"I'm doing it because I can move fast enough to replace them without anyone seeing me," he said, his forehead creasing a little. "Since we thought everyone who disappeared was dead, I've been thinking about leaving it all behind, the superhero thing. It wears on me. The responsibility, the effort it takes; it's become too much. I wanted a simpler life and I had it until Scott appeared to tell us about the quantum universe. I don't want to be Captain America anymore. I just want to be Steve Rogers."

"So, what does that have to do with travelling in time?" I asked, making him grimace slightly, then I got it. "You want to go back."

"Yeah, I do," he said. "We can both go back."

"What about facing the charges against me?" I asked. "That sounds like running out on everyone who's stuck their neck out for me, doesn't it?"

"That's one way of seeing it," he agreed. "But you could start over with a clean slate. Say you were a PoW and that you lost your memory. We show up a few years after the war and we begin our lives again."

If it were only that easy. I looked down at my hands, seeing the first obstacle right there. "How do I explain this?" I asked, holding up my vibranium hand. "It's advanced even for this time. Plus, if HYDRA ever gets an inkling that I'm back don't you think they would come after me again?"

"Yeah, there is that possibility," he said, as he kept driving. "I loved her, Bucky. Tony and I went back to the 1970s to get Pym particles and one of the stones. I was in Peggy's office and she still kept a picture of me, pre-serum me. She loved me in both my bodies, skinny Steve and Captain America Steve."

"So you want to go back for her," I clarified, sounding more irritated than I thought I did, "more than you want to stay here and help me see this through. That's some plan."

"Buck don't be angry," he said. "There's another reason to do this but we have to see Rebecca, so you see it for yourself."

I tried to get him to explain but he wouldn't, just kept saying I would find out at Rebecca's. Eventually, I gave up trying to get him to say more and we drove the rest of the way to Newark in silence. As we pulled up to the senior's home, I could see it was a very nice place, with well-tended flower beds out front. Inside was just as nice; clean, bright, and by the sounds of it, full of activities for the residents. After checking in at the reception Steve led me to Rebecca's room before stopping me in the hallway.

"Let me get her ready to see you," he said. "She knows you're coming but I imagine she'll still be in a bit of shock when you walk in."

As I cooled my heels in the hallway I could hear him talking to her, telling her I was just outside. He asked if she was ready to see me. Then he was there at the door, beckoning me in. I stepped into the room, seeing a tiny white-haired woman with bright blue eyes, sitting in an armchair. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw me and I kneeled down to her, feeling like I wanted to cry myself.

"Bucky," she whispered, running her fingertips over my face. "My big brother. Look at you. You've hardly changed and I'm an old woman."

"Oh, Freckles," I murmured. "You're still beautiful. I still see my baby sister."

She kissed me then and put her arms around me, drawing me in close. I could feel her tears making my cheek wet and I rubbed her back with my hand, trying to comfort her. We stayed like that for several minutes before she finally loosened her hold on me. As I leaned back, she took in all of my face again.

"If I hadn't seen Steve and how young he remained I wouldn't have believed it possible," she said. "Those people that kept you prisoner ... I hate them. They stole you from us. Ma and Dad died without knowing the truth. Is it true some people want to put you on trial for what you were forced to do?"

I nodded. "Steve said they have all sorts of evidence that prove I was tortured into it but I still did it, Freckles," I replied. "I still feel guilt for the people I killed."

"I know," she smiled sadly. "That's just the type of man you always were, Bucky. You always owned up to your mistakes." She looked over at Steve. "Did you tell him?"

"About going back, yes," he said. "But not about the letter. You still have it?"

She nodded. "It's in the top drawer of my desk. I got this letter after Ma received that medal for you. I never showed it to her as it would have upset her. She had already showed me the Hobbit book with your Christian name in it, even though Peggy Carter told her to keep it secret." Steve handed her a folder and she looked at it before looking at me. "Just read this."

I opened the folder and saw an opened envelope, and a plain piece of paper with handwriting on it. It was addressed to Rebecca Barnes Proctor, dated in 1991.

October 10, 1991

Dear Rebecca,

I'm sending you this letter after learning about the Medal of Honor that was awarded to your brother, James Buchanan Barnes. Did he deserve it? Yes, absolutely, but not just for the reasons you think.

You see, Bucky is still alive, still a prisoner of war, being held by an organization known as HYDRA. I was part of a small group of people trying to rescue him. We had to be very careful with our efforts as HYDRA was very suspicious of anyone who had access to your brother. When they first acquired him, after he fell from the train in Austria, his body was so broken, and they treated his injuries while injecting him with a super soldier serum. What was worse was they were already torturing him, trying to break his mind.

You see, Rebecca, they saw what Dr. Abraham Erskine did to Steve Rogers with his super soldier serum and they wanted to do the same thing to a soldier that they could control. What better way to do it than to choose a soldier who they could hurt because he couldn't fight back, neither physically nor mentally. Except, we know that Bucky did just that. He fought them as hard as he could, even when he didn't know who he was, he still knew enough to understand that what they were doing was wrong.

Ultimately, we failed. We were so close to getting Bucky to a place where we could take him back and fix him but they moved him to another place, imprisoning him in a way that he had no idea of time or reality. Our agent finally found him and tried to help but was caught and killed. When we finally heard about it the agent that managed to tell us that much had also been caught and executed, leaving Bucky truly on his own. I wanted to go myself to find him but the risk of being caught was too great and I was forced to stand down, to my shame and disappointment.

I'm sorry, very sorry, that you're only learning this now. Missions like the one I was on are secret for a reason but sometimes the secrecy that is needed to protect the people involved means that when it goes wrong, nothing can be done to rectify it. When the secret about Bucky finally comes out it may dismay you. People may say things about him that just aren't true. Just believe that there are people who know the truth and will do all they can to make sure everyone knows. I know, because I'm one of them.

Always a friend to Bucky until the end of the line.

I looked at Rebecca then to Steve, both of them with a sincere but deliberate expression on their face. I looked at the date again, saw the paper was old, the envelope it came in was postmarked October 12, 1991. Then I looked at the writing again because I had seen that writing before, many times in the 1930s and 1940s.

"How is this possible?" I asked Steve. "You were looking for me in the 1950s? You were frozen."

"I was frozen," he answered. "But apparently, I was also there, in hiding, trying to find you and rescue you."

"But it didn't work," I countered. "I mean obviously, it didn't work because I still did all of those killings for HYDRA. I was still the Winter Soldier."

"Yeah," he said, looking down. "Bucky, I asked Dr. Strange about this. This letter proves I went back, not just for Peggy, but for you. Even though I know I wasn't successful I still have to go."

"Why?" I stood up, holding the paper towards him. "If it didn't work what's the point of going back at all? What's the point of leaving me here, after I've just ...."

Rebecca touched my hand, and I could see the tears in her sad face. Steve let out a tortured breath then stood straight and looked me in the eye.

"Because there is a chance that when I go back this time I'll be successful," he said. "Dr. Strange saw it but he can't tell in which timeline I rescue you. So, apparently, it is my destiny to return to the past to try to find you and to keep trying until I succeed. In that timeline, you return home, you see your parents again, you stand up as a groomsman at Rebecca's wedding, you become godfather to my children, and you get married yourself, able to have the family you always wanted. The best part is that you and Captain America fight together, stopping HYDRA in their tracks, preventing them from doing to that timeline what they did to this one."

I staggered back a little hearing him outline what could happen if he succeeded in finding and rescuing me. It all seemed too fantastic, too much like a science fiction novel. Yet, if there was a chance that he could save me and together we could stop HYDRA then maybe it was something I had to let happen.

"How will I ever know if it worked?" I asked. "Isn't this timeline already set?"

"Yeah, this timeline won't change," he said, frowning slightly, in that way he had. "This timeline will continue on. I'm doing this for the timeline that hasn't happened yet. For the Bucky who hasn't fallen yet, hopefully hasn't had the words implanted, and still knows who he is. It's a sacrifice, Bucky. You have to let me go and stay here on your own, figure out life on your own."

"Does Dr. Strange know how I do in this timeline?" I asked, wanting desperately to have something good to cling to.

Steve shook his head. "He refused to say, something about not interfering in the natural order of things. My going back is part of the natural order of things."

That staggered me more than anything. I had just been reunited with my best friend and he was preparing to leave, for good. Another thought came to me.

"You wrote this in 1991 which means you might still be alive," I said. "The serum can keep you alive longer, can't it? You could still be my friend in this timeline, still be there for me."

"I'll be more than 70 years older," he said. "I'll probably be a very different man than the one standing here. I'm not sure I'll be of any help to you. It's possible I've already died by this date. Buck, there are people here, that belong in this time who will help you. Sam has been a good friend to me and he could be a good friend to you, if you let him. Grant, Jovan, Megan, even James Marsh have all said they're just a phone call away if you need them. Hell, Sergeant Hobbs seems to like you. You just have to give those people a chance."

I knew he was right but a part of me felt abandoned, even betrayed, that the one person who I remembered throughout all of it couldn't stay and be part of my life going on. It was unfair.

"Do the others know about this?" I asked, gesturing to the letter.

He shook his head. "No, just us three and Dr. Strange but he won't talk about it to anyone. You can't tell them, either. Dr. Strange did say there will be one person you tell but he didn't say who it was, or why you told them. I'm guessing it will be someone you trust more than anyone."

I still didn't like it but it was obvious there really was no choice in the matter. We stayed, visiting Rebecca for another couple of hours before saying our goodbyes. She made me promise that I would come to see her as much as I could. On the way back to the base we stopped at a lawyer's office and I met the lawyer who had agreed to handle my case. He said he was representing me pro bono, which in Latin means "for the public good." In my case, it meant he was also representing me for free, since I had no job, or prospects of one. With the evidence of all the recovered HYDRA and army files that Jovan Sakić, Steve, and apparently Tony Stark had found he was confident of a pardon. He also recommended I file a claim for back pay; as a PoW I was entitled to it. Finally, he wanted to file a lawsuit against the estates of several high profile individuals who had been identified as HYDRA leaders; people who had actively suppressed the knowledge of my existence to the world and kept me imprisoned. Some of them were military so there would be additional claims filed against the army for the actions of several generals in keeping my existence a secret.

Over the next week Steve and I hung out together as much as possible, often including Sam in our activities. Steve wanted me to feel comfortable with him and the others, I guess. I tried but it wasn't easy as I often felt judged, mostly by myself. When Stark's memorial service was held, I had a panic attack, feeling I shouldn't be there, as Tony wouldn't have wanted me. Steve had already left, having been asked to be an honorary pallbearer. Sam, tasked with getting me there, knocked on the door and saw me sitting on the bed in my black jeans and shirt, the suit I bought still hung up in the locker.

"Bucky, you're not ready," he stated, ignoring the fact that it was obvious.

"I'm not going," I replied. "Tony wouldn't want me there."

"Tony's not going to be there," he said, again stating the obvious. With a small grimace he sat down beside me and mirrored my posture. "Bucky, you need to go, even if it's just to resolve your own feelings about the man. Let's face it, you didn't get a chance to tell him you were sorry. But he also didn't get a chance to say he forgave you."

I looked at Sam, shaking my head slightly in acknowledgement. Maybe this was why Steve wanted me to accept this man as a friend. Sometimes, in his plain spoken but obvious way Sam said things that needed to be said out loud. He stood up suddenly and picked up my zip up jacket, handing it to me, not saying anything. Putting it on, I followed him, and we joined the others, waiting for the vehicles to take us to Tony's cabin, where the service would be held on the pond beside it. A young woman, Wanda, beautiful but with sad eyes smiled at Sam, then turned her gaze to me. She looked at me without flinching, or judgement, then gently placed her hand on my arm.

"You're not alone, James," she said softly. "I was also HYDRA, but by choice, a choice made when I was an angry child. I blamed Tony for my parent's deaths, saw him as a monster, until I faced the real monster. We all do things that we regret. It's what we do with the regret after that's important."

During the service I almost bolted several times, but Sam was there and so was Wanda, both of them lending me their calm presence to see it through. Later when the device that would allow Steve to return the stones was completed, I joined the other few people who were present. We said goodbye, the same way we did when I went to war, except I knew I wouldn't see my friend like this again. It hurt, but it had to be done because that's who Steve was, the guy who never gave up fighting. He was just taking the fight to a place I couldn't follow. Then he stepped on the platform, looked at me once more and activated the suit he had to wear before disappearing in a flash.

As the others panicked when he didn't return, I looked in the other direction and saw the old man sitting on a bench, facing the lake, with a large carrying case by his side. I called to Sam, and nodded towards the old man, knowing who he was. Sam seemed hesitant to approach the older Steve until I told him to go ahead. This was Sam's moment with destiny, and I was there for him, whatever that would entail. Steve had come up with the plan, and I was going to follow it.

Part 24>>

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If you liked this one shot please comment or reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers #sam wilson #winter soldier #marvels avengers #after Thanos #til the end of the line

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harryspet · 4 years

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caged bird | s.rogers, p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!peter parker x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, polyamory, prison au, noncon/dubcon sex, this plot scenario is very unrealistic but oh well, reader makes a deal so she can survive, hella manipulation, dominants/submissive, oral sex (male recieving), hella angst, shower sex, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: this is like a really f’d up situation so enjoy :):):) i also wrote this over the span of two weeks so i’m sorry if the pacing is weird and (also x2) this is nowhere near canon

In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage.

word count: 4.8k

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Your eyelids were heavy though the bright light outside the bus was forcing you awake. Your limbs shackled to the seat, it reminded you that you had lost your freedom so quickly and that you’d probably never have a good night of sleep ever again, “How long?” Your mouth was dry, the heat from the wasteland you were driving through crept through the window.

“Twenty minutes, princess,” Officer Rumlow looked you over for the millionth time like you were fresh meat ready for the slaughter. His perceptions weren’t far off and that’s what scared you the most. You weren’t cut out for a place like the Cage.

A week ago you thought this place was fictional, a nightmare tale that was used to scare the new employees. It was still a nightmare but you were now living in it. You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as the facility finally came into view. Five stories of complete concrete surrounded by two, hundred-foot fences and surrounded by a barren wasteland.

You were the only one on the bus. The Cage rarely received new inmates due to the nature of crimes that the prison was built for. Vigilantes and government traitors. Many used to consider them heroes but they were unregulated and dangerous. That's how they ended up here and, your boss, Alexander Pierce had sold you out to save himself.

“When … W-When am I going to get my phone call?” You asked as the bus entered the gates of the prison, finally stopping at the processing center.

Rumlow chuckled, walking over to unchain your shackles from the floor of the bus, “Who are you going to call, princess? Mommy and Daddy?” He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you down the steps of the bus.

You refused to accept that you had been erased. Your parents probably thought you were only missing, not that you had been wrongly accused of betraying the government and had been thrown into the most dangerous prison in the country.

“They can’t do this,” You winced as your arm stung, “No trial. No jury. T-This is illegal!”

Rumlow ignored you, and you had to pick up your pace in order to not fall down. Your eyes wandered around, the sun nearly blinding you and stinging your skin at the same time. You noticed in the distance a group of male inmates standing behind a wired fence, wearing the same navy jumpsuit as you, and even from far away, you could see cold and hungry glances.

You thought you were lucky for a minute since you were a woman but then you remembered what kind of women probably lived here. As you were brought inside, past several guards, through metal detectors and pat-downs.

When you got to the body cavity search, you expected to part way with Rumlow. Standing in a small, cold room, Rumlow stood in the doorway with his hands casually in the pockets of his pants, “Undress, inmate,” Your eyes widened and you quickly crossed your arms, “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

“I-I do mind,” You said quickly, “I’m supposed to have a female officer-”

“You don’t get those kinds of privileges in the Cage. We don’t separate inmates by gender,” You shook your head as your eyebrows began to furrow.

“That’s insane-”

“Undress, inmate,” He said more sternly this time, “Or would you like me to do it for you? You’re lucky I don’t make you put on a show for the rest of the guards.”

You shook your head again, tears starting to form in your tired eyes, “Please don’t-” You tried to plead with him but, as you did, you watched him reach for his baton, “Okay, okay!”

Rumlow smiled a wicked smile, “Good. Bend over and cough, inmate. Let me see that cute, little ass of yours.”

When you finally got to see a female officer, she was escorting you to your cell. In your hands, you held the rest of your life which included one more set of clothes, bedding, and a toothbrush. You had to eat what the prison provided and you could only earn extra commissary from working. Hela tried to explain everything to you but you were only latching onto every other world.

You walked along a slim passageway which had cells to the right and a metal railing to the left. There were three floors of cells and they seemed to go all the way around in a circle. Passed the railing and in the middle of the dome was where it seemed most of the inmates were gathered.

The shouting, laughing, and fighting echoed through the dome and you couldn’t help but think those calls were for you. You could barely carry your bag of things and walk straight without stumbling. If they couldn’t send your weakness from your appearance then they’d surely sniff it out soon.

“This can’t be allowed,” You whispered to Officer Hela, though her dark hair mixed with the look of death in her eyes didn’t scream “empathy” to you, “There has to be some sort of rule-”

She stopped in front of an empty, six by eight-foot cell which told you that this would be your new home, “You can sit in solitary if you like,” She spoke coldly, “Your meals get brought to you and you don’t have to deal with the animals in here but there’s no time outside. It’s easy to lose track of the days and forget which voices are real and which ones are inside your head. If you prefer to go insane before you die then I’d recommend that route.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to make and you found your feet moving before your brain could register. You stepped inside the cell, setting down your things on the bottom bunk, “A girl like you is going to need to latch onto a group, pledge your allegiance, and do not let them question your loyalty. They live by a different code here and following it is life or death, do you understand?”

You slowly nodded as you listened and part of you was grateful that she wasn’t completely cold, “T-Thank you-”

She scoffed, “Such a precious little thing … I give you a week,” With that, she turned on her heel and you felt hopeless once again, “I’ll escort you to dinner-”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.” You were actually starving but you could not yet face the beast.

She only shrugged and pulled the door closed. The light above you flickered and you stared back down at your bunk. You were holding back your tears as you tried to make up your bed. Staring at the flimsy mattress material only made you more depressed so you decided just to lay down. Facing the wall, your tired eyes roamed over what was scribbled on the walls.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil.

S.H.I.E.L.D. is corrupt.

You hated that the words initially sent a wave of anger through you. You hated that you still felt loyal to that group of monsters. You were a low level worker with good standing and they had just sent you to die?

With your face tucked into your arm, you cried yourself to sleep.

The next day you had no choice but to face your fears. You couldn’t go any longer without food and, in a place like this, you needed to keep your energy up. Before the sun was even out, you heard the mechanical click of the cell door. Your favorite officer, Rumlow, made sure to stop by your cell during roll call.

“So you decided on general population,” He popped the gum he was chewing, looking you over, “I’m sad to hear it, I was gonna visit you every day in solitary but I guess we’ll get some alone time soon enough.”

You scowled at him and a shiver went through you as he continued pass your cell. You were now grateful that you had chosen general population.

That feeling didn’t last as inmates started moving from their cells down to breakfast. You stayed back, waiting to slip out of your cell when the crowd had passed. You lingered in the back of the line but no one seemed to notice you until you were in the kitchen line. The first reaction was a quiet murmur that went through the group of (mostly) men at the sight of you.

You didn’t quite match anyone's stature, not even the women. At least they looked like they could take care of themselves. You were sure that your face probably had dark circles and sunken in features. You looked down when you felt someone's eyes on you and you cringed at every word whispered about you.

“If I could just get my hands on her …”

“I wonder what a little girl like that could’ve done to get in here.”

“I’d be real gentle with her …” “I wouldn’t … I’d make her scream …”

“Move along,” Hela barked at the inmates in the line. You tried to tune them out as a staff member handed you your tray of food. A stale piece of toast, plastic-looking eggs, peaches, and what looked like could be oatmeal.

It was when you turned away that you felt a pinch on your bottom. You turned around quickly only to find yourself staring at a chest rather than a face. As you looked up, a man with long, dark black hair stared down at you, “Aren’t you adorable?”

“I said move along, inmates,” You looked towards Hela for some sort of help but didn’t receive any.

When you looked back again, the man had disappeared. You shook it off, figuring that was the least of what you were about to experience today. As you stepped out into the middle of the dome, you remembered the advice that Hela had managed to give you.

There were cliques formed at each circular, metal table and you looked each one over as you walked past them. Again, people stared and said vile things but you spotted a table where two women were sitting. They were much older than you but the look you got from them was not maternal in the least.

“Can I… sit here?” You knew the answer based on their thin-lipped scowls.

You weren’t like any of them … you were fragile. Besides that, you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the organization was responsible for locking half of these people away. You kept walking, eventually finding an empty table to sit at.

All you could think about now was eating. You picked at your tray with your plastic fork, and with each bite of the food you cringed. The toast was also completely rock hard, “It helps if you dip it in water,” Your head snapped up as you felt a shadow over you before someone took a seat beside you.

You weren’t expecting someone so young and you certainly weren’t expecting a friendly smile. You stared at the handsome man with your mouth agape. You hadn’t realized what he meant until you looked back down at the bread in your hands, “Oh … I doubt anything would make this edible-”

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit. On the table in front of you, he placed a twinkie. The entire room seemed to go quiet for a moment and you realized that everyone was watching the two of you.

“I can’t accept this …”

“Of course you can, it’s no big deal,” His brown eyes pierced into yours as he shrugged, “I’m Peter.”

The sugary, process food was calling your name but you still weren’t sure what his deal was, “T-Thank you,” Not wanting to come off rude, you accepted it, unknowingly beginning to seal your fate, “I’m … I’m-”

“Y/N Y/LN,” He finished for you which left your eyes wide with shock, “You’re already famous. The guards like to gossip and it’s rare we get new inmates so people get curious.”

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Don’t worry, some people in here care about your charges, how you got here, but not me,” He tried to reassure you, a smile tugging at his lips, “S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed us all and I don’t think there’s a point in playing who’s the better bad guy.”

You looked around. Now that you knew that people knew your charges and your history, you were starting to feel unsettled. The only thing keeping you grounded was him reassuring you that he didn’t care, “How long-” Your voice came out in a whisper, “How long have you been here?”

Peter took a breath as he thought for a moment, “Few years. Now I kinda forget that I was a normal teenager when this all started.”

Years. And he was a teenager when they brought him here? Did they have no limits to their cruelty?

“God,” You breathed out, overwhelmed, “I don’t think I can … do this-”

Peter reached out, placing a calm hand on your arm, “Hey, hey, you have to survive here. Whether you were meant to be here or not, you have to live like this is your reality. Looking like you’re about to vomit is not a good look to everyone else. I saw Loki over there … he’s an asshole touching you like that but it’s because he’s already sniffed you out.”

You nodded, trying to stay calm, “But I don’t know how to look … to look less weak.”

“For one, you’re going to have to start eating more and building some muscle,” You could tell by his grip on your arm that he was quite strong, “And the next time someone disrespects you, you have to stand up for yourself. You also can’t just bark like a little chihuahua. Maybe you could pick someone out, someone that you could win in a fight against.”

As Peter started to scan the room, you immediately started shaking your hand, “I can’t just attack someone,” You whisper-shouted, your eyes wide with worry.

Peter chuckled, “Not with that attitude. Maybe you could go for Heather over there,” He eyed a woman who was practically elderly, “She has a cane so even you could probably overpower though I’ve seen here use the thing as a weapon a few times-”

“Peter,” You spoke sharply, “There has to be another way.”

Peter looked into your eyes and you lost hope for a moment until he seemed to perk up, “I have some friends, we kind of run together in this place, looking out for each other,” Peter explained and you listened intently, hoping for a means of survival that didn’t require attacking an old lady, “I could probably convince them to start looking out for you too. But it won’t be easy, we take loyalty very seriously here, and it wouldn’t be without a cost to you.”

“What sort of cost?”

Peter shrugged, “Could be lots of things. They serve plums on Friday and Bucky loves those so maybe you’d show your support to the group by giving him yours. Something like that,” You followed Peter’s finger as he pointed two men out, one with dark hair and the other with light. Both were built like bodybuilders, “Steve’s a respected leader here and maybe you could help run messages for him.”

You nodded, “T-That sounds fair,” You paused for a moment as the men eyed you, “And for the twinkie? What do you want?”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Peter grinned, “Eat it and that means you accept our claim. You’re one of us.”

“Can’t I have time to think about it?”

Peter seemed to hesitate for the first time, “I’m sure you won’t get a better offer,” Your face fell, “But sure. I’d be quick about it though. Those big, doe eyes aren’t going to work on everybody.”

The dark-haired one was following you. Loki, Peter called him, hadn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you parted ways with Peter yesterday. He and his greek god, blonde friend were now walking behind you as you made your way through the halls. They were pushing mop buckets, evidently taking a break from their cleaning duty.

You had gotten lost trying to find the hospital wing and now you were paying the consequences.

“Little bird … caged and unprotected,” He taunted you and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to keep from looking back, “Not even the guards want to save her. Poor thing.”

“It seems she’s in need of protecting, brother.”

“Protecting? If I got my hands on her, the last thing I’d think of is being gentle-”

You turned into the first room you passed, expecting to find somewhere to hide but you only seemed to encounter more people. It was the TV room, a staticy old television airing a baseball game was hanging in the corner of the room, and a bunch of men were sitting at different tables.

They all turned their heads to you as you interrupted and you immediately recognized the two men from Peter’s loyal “group”. Bucky and Steve. Your heart was out of your chest at the point and you found yourself whispering a “sorry” before turning back towards the door. Loki and his brother, however, were waiting patiently.

Loki leaned in the doorway, eyeing you like you were fresh meat.

“Is this jackass bothering you, hon?” Your eyes wide with fear, you quickly realized that it wasn’t Loki taunting you. The dark-haired man’s, you remembered Peter calling him Bucky, voice boomed through the room.

You froze.

“Don’t you have toilets to scrub, Laufeyson?” The light hair man with a thick beard spoke, and by the look on his face you could tell he was a man of power. Not so much power-hungry but someone that demanded respect and often received it.

Loki scoffed, looking over you again, “As far as I know, this one is free territory.”

“Well, this room is my territory and guess where she happens to be standing,” Loki’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words.

“C’mere, hon,” Bucky spoke to you, signaling to cross the room. She hesitated but only for a moment as you realized your choices were Peter’s friends or letting Loki, have you. You crossed the room cautiously towards them, everyone now looking at you. You paused awkwardly in front of the table but a small yelp left your lip as Bucky grabbed you by the arm, spinning you into his lap.

“See,” Steve said as you uncomfortably tried your best not to squirm, “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laufeyson.”

You felt a hand clench your thigh and cringed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

As soon as Loki stormed away, you stood up, brushing whatever wrinkles had formed in your jumpsuit. Amused, Bucky smiled at you, “You could at least thank us,” Bucky leaned forward and you tried not to scowl.

“Thank you,” You whispered.

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked.

“Lang, get Y/N a chair,” Steve ordered another man in the room. He was quick to obey the command and, even though you were in a new place, you felt you’d been transported into an entirely new planet.

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit,” Steve said as the chair was placed beside you, “You can leave when you give us an answer to the offer Peter mentioned yesterday.”

You had thought long and hard about Peter’s offer and decided last night that you wanted to reject it. It wasn’t until now that you realized your decision was a mistake. There was no telling when you’d be getting out of this place, Peter had been here for years, and it seemed you were already a target.

You’d even heard a rumor that the guards placed bets on how long you’d survive in here.

“Yes …” You nodded your head, “That’s my answer.”

Steve's lips pulled into a small grin as he eyed his friend across the table, “Good choice, doll.”

A week later and you were still alive and relatively untouched. Bucky was quite handsy but Peter reminded you that it was just protocol. Everyone had to know that you were a part of their group and that, if you were harmed, they’d have to deal with Steve and his minions.

Like Peter said, there were quite a few sacrifices you had to make. Your new job in the kitchen allowed you to provide the group with all the food they wanted and when you weren’t working, you were running errands for Steve. You got an idea of all the inmate leaders and how they functioned as a society.

Steve seemed to be at the very top and you realized the possible consequences of crossing someone like him. Still, you felt more pampered than like you were a part of some elaborate prison gang. Most of your wishes were theirs to grant.

They let you watch whatever you wanted in the TV room. Bucky always called you pet names that you were starting to grow fond of. Steve had some pull with the guards so Rumlow was never around to bother you anymore. Peter even found you a set of paints to occupy your time in your cell. As long as you followed them around like their cute little puppy, they were quite nice to you.

“C’mon, run a lap with me. You gotta build your strength,” Peter asked you, his face sweaty and shining under the baking sun. He was shirtless, the shirtsleeves of his uniform wrapped around his waist, and his magnificent physique was on display just like Steve and Bucky’s. During rec time in the courtyard, you’d become accustomed to standing by the fence and watching them lift weights.

“I’m good, thanks,” You smiled awkwardly, “I get tired just from watching you guys.”

“Peter’s right,” Steve let out a breath as he dropped his hundred-pound dumbbell.

“I just …” Your voice trailed off as Steve eyed you with his strong gaze. You knew that what he said goes but you were growing nervous, “I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky chimed in, a curious look on his face.

“Is that like a girl thing I don’t know about?” Peter flashed you an amused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment.

“Y/N?” Steve could see that you were hiding something.

You crossed your arms, sighing, “I just don’t want to have to shower, okay?”

“You haven’t showered since you’ve been here?” Peter asked incredulously.

“I have!” You quickly defended yourself, “I mean, I’ve just been using the sink in my cell.”

“I see what this is about,” Bucky had a knowing look on his face, “Dollface is scared of the communal showers.”

Peter’s mouth formed the shape of an “o” as he realized what was going on. You still felt so embarrassed. It was yet another thing that made you seem totally defenseless.

“Is that true?” Steve asked and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by their concerned gazes, “Why didn’t you tell us? Next time, one of us will keep watch for you. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that your life would never be the same again. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never see your family again or that you cried yourself to sleep every night. That might be the reason you felt that they genuinely cared for you and why you wanted to fully embrace the comfort that they were providing.

Maybe that was why you wanted to belong to them.

For the first time, you were reminded of your old life. You weren’t sure how long you’d lost yourself under the water, letting time get away from you, as the warm water cascaded along your skin. The showers had a sorry excuse for water pressure and, despite the creepiness of the beige tiles and flickering light above, when you closed your eyes you were in paradise.

“All clean, beautiful?” Bucky’s voice brought you out of your trance. Suddenly you were back in the square room with showerheads lining each wall. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning off the water.

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done!” You shouted back, grabbing your towel from off the hook. You pressed it to your face, drying your skin. You were quite grateful that they’d taken the extra steps to make you feel protected, “Bucky-”

As you turned around, that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to something resembling fear. He was supposed to wait for you outside the bathroom and yet, there he was, only three feet away from you.

“What are you-”

He looked over you hungrily and you pressed your towel closer to your body, “You have no idea how long it's been since I’ve been with a beautiful woman like you … Steve too. And Peter, he’s just learning the ropes.”

You took a step back, towards the wall, and as you did you caught a glimpse behind Bucky’s towering figure. Both Steve and Peter were here, stalking closer.

“You said you’d protect me…” Your voice cracked, your hands beginning to shake.

“We will,” Steve spoke, determined, “No one else but us will touch you.”

“Nothing in here is without a cost, Y/N,” Peter seemed a bit solemn like his current life was not what he wanted it to be but he was just as hungry, if not more, as Bucky.

Bucky grabbed you then, his eyes impatient, and you wrestled for your towel for only a moment before he easily snatched it away from you. A helpless squeal left your mouth as he grabbed you by the arm with one hand and placed his other hand between your legs. He grabbed your thigh tightly and as his hand moved further up, you found yourself paralyzed.

“Good girl. You’re going to take all of us,” Bucky spoke quietly, shushing you, his grip growing tighter and tighter. Before you knew it, all three of them were surrounding you, their curious hands wandering over your wet skin. Grabbing your breast, your thighs, turning your face to bite at your neck.

“Get on your knees,” Steve grunted against your ear, growing impatient like his friend.

When you didn’t move, Peter was the one to push you down onto the cold floor. You hiccuped, trying not to hyperventilate as they overwhelmed you from each side. As they all started to pull down their clothes, you made one final attempt at trying to crawl away.

Steve grabbed you by your throat, making your efforts futile, pushing your face towards his crotch. You felt it, hard and throbbing against your cheek, “Open up, don’t make this hard, doll,” Through the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky stroking his own length, waiting patiently for his turn.

Steve grabbed you by your hair next, pressing your closed lips against his tip. He forced himself in your mouth, “There you go,” Steve grunted, pushing himself deeper, “Move that tongue around.”

Steve Rogers could make your life a living hell in the Cage. Was this really the price you had to pay in order to survive here? You couldn’t imagine it being any worse than this but Steve could make that possible. That’s why you started to swirl your tongue like he said, deciding that their orgasms would end your pain.

Bucky was much rougher than Steve, pinching your nose closed and enjoying watching your eyes widen and water. He practically touched the back of your throat and still commanded you to stroke Peter and Steve’s cocks with your hands while you took him in your mouth. Somehow, you managed.

Peter was much more gentle and you were grateful for that. His hands rested softly on the back of your head, guiding your mouth slowly up and down his length, “God, this is awesome,” He cursed, his head tilting back as he enjoyed the stimulation. When he finally finished, his warmth filled your mouth and before you could spit or catch your breath, Bucky grabbed you again.

He came so far down your throat that you were forced to swallow it but, unlike him, Steve took his time, “This little mouth. Is ours. Every single hole. Is ours. No one else, do you understand?” With each sentence, he thrust hard until he filled your mouth. You leaned over, coughing as you felt the stinging of your sore throat.

You were about to collapse onto the dirty cold floor when gentle arms lifted you up into a broad chest. You found yourself not fighting, only pressing your face into Bucky’s chest as you began to sob.

Steve didn’t have to say anything more. You understand your new position and there wasn’t anyone else there to save you from that fate.

That night you learned there was a change to your cell assignment. You’d sleep in Steve’s arms, a little bird that was safe and protected in it’s cage.

hope you enjoyed!! i’m posting this instead of sleeping because I have class in this morning :)

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka for being the resident Studio 54 expert! Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club.

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges.

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight.

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there.

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin. “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair.

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly.

It doesn’t work.

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on.

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname.

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high.

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from.

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his.

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two.

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position.

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

never doubt me {cassian andor}

summary: after falling into the hands of the empire, a situation of life and death forces you and cassian to finally talk about your feelings {for @megmeg-chan and i am sO sorry it’s taken me so long to do this}

summary: language, mentions of injury, talks ab death/loss in a canon kinda way

enjoy!! i haven’t written for cassian in so long and i forgot how much i loved him, so expect more of him in the future😌

- jazz

Cassian Andor was a filthy liar.

No, deep breath. He wasn't that bad.

The situation was just really fucking irritating and, in all likelihood, making your anger towards him a little more irrational. It wasn't really even his fault either. He'd told you incessantly that the mission was going to go well, and that you both going to be fine. Like, totally fiiiine, and that you would both get into the base without trouble and reunite in the middle, near the Imperial comms system. It was just that neither of you had planned for or expected stormtroopers to be present -- he'd gotten away in one piece, but you hadn't been so lucky.

That brings us to now: a cell, with two stormtroopers parked outside and quite literally no sign of Cassian anywhere. You knew he'd be looking for you; in fact, you didn't doubt it once. There was a sort of unspoken pact between you that you would always rescue one another; always have each other's backs and never leave the other behind. It was born from the fact that friendships were hard to forge in your line of work, and what you and Cassian had was rare. Not even just in the Rebellion, but rather life in general. On the surface, you teased and ripped into one another to no end. The chemistry was almost suffocating for the people around you, because they could never get a word in edge ways. Then, if you dug a little deeper, there was something more. Something sweeter, something more supportive. You knew him better than he knew himself and in return, he could read you like his favourite novel (though, admittedly, it did sometimes feel like you were missing a few pages. Human complexity and all that).

‘Do you feel like speaking now?’ The modulated voice of one of the stormtroopers came from the other side of your cell door.

‘I’ll die before telling you jackshit.’ You muttered. Hopefully that was more of a statement and less of a prophecy.

The trooper snorted. ‘Okay, sweetheart-’

‘- call me that again and I will shove that blaster sideways up your ass.’ You spat.

‘The only thing you’re doing is rotting here.’

With that, he turned his back to you again.

You slumped further down the wall, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete etching through the thin fabric of your shirt. It was cold in here. Really, really fucking cold, and Cassian had said you wouldn’t need a jacket. Then again, he’d said a lot of things. And again, none of it was his fault, but you cursed yourself for so blindly listening to him. It was nice that you took everything the other said as gospel, even if it came back to bite you in the ass every so often.

‘A word of advice-’

‘- I don’t want any advice.’ You turned away from the trooper, pulling you knees to your chest.

‘The sooner you talk, the less painful it’ll be.’ He ignored your refusal.

You didn’t need to ask what he meant by it. You’d been part of the Rebellion long enough to have heard stories -- stories of torture, stories of war and the the kind of horrors that people often took to the grave. You had a fair few of your own, and so did Cassian. That was probably why he’d become so important to you. He was one of the only people in the galaxy who truly understood the downfalls of being a Rebel spy. Your cause was more important to you than anything (well, almost anything) and you wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but there were times like this where you wondered if it was all worth it. Would there ever come a day where the Empire truly fell, once and for all? And would you even be around to see it? Would Cassian?

Speaking of the devil, where the fuck was he? He never usually took this long. A few hours at most, but you’d long surpassed that. You could only very barely see the sky through the tiny window, but the sky had faded from powder blue to a dark navy, signalling it had been well over half a day. That was bad for multiple reasons -- the first being that the longer you were here, the more likely Cassian was to assume the worst and stop searching. Secondly, and perhaps most hauntingly, was that each passing second brought you closer to the Imps dragging you out the cell and taking you for questioning. And questioning, in their books, didn’t involve much talking. Go figure.

The injuries you sustained in your capture were bad enough; a bust lip, bruised eye and twisted ankle never made for much comfort. Even less so when you couldn’t get medical attention. The fact you knew it would be the least of your problems in a few hours made it all that much worst.

You’d never doubted Cassian Andor before. Not once. Couldn’t even fathom it, truth be told. He always came through for you; always saved your ass, whether it be from yourself or from Imps. He was your person. That’s the only way you could have put it.

But, above all, he was a human being. Not a super hero, or a miracle worker. He could only do so much and you knew he would. He would follow every lead and every clue to try and get to you, but that’s all he could do. If he couldn’t find you, that wasn’t him on him. You doubted that he would think the same, and when you heard the lock to your cell open, you could only hope and pray that he knew that. That you weren’t going to blame him for what was about to happen, or hold it against him.

‘It’s time.’ The stormtrooper announced. ‘Hope you can handle a bit of pain.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I can handle anything.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ He guffawed. ‘Hands out.’

‘C’mon, man.’ You murmured. ‘My legs gone, my lips bust and my head feels someone’s dropped an iron anvil on it. You don’t need to cuff - ouch!’

You let out a squeak as he grabbed your wrists, tugging them forward and shoving a pair of metal cuffs on them. Was this really it? The end? Was your name gonna be the next one on the list of people lost in the Rebellion? That was if anybody even noticed.

Cassian would. Of course, Cassian would. It hurt your heart to think that you wouldn’t see him again, or get to say a proper goodbye. The last time you’d seen him, you’d been dragged away from him kicking and screaming. He’d been so close, and if he’d been just a little nearer when they’d got you, he might have been able to save you, to stop you from falling into the hands of the Empire. You always figured that if you were gonna die in the field, he’d be by your side. The dumbassery you so often found yourselves in usually happened together.

The walls of the Imperial base were dark - as if you’d expected anything else. It was hardly like the place was going to look like a bright, airy Ikea showroom. The only light came from the thousands of tiny red and blue buttons flickering on the wall, illuminating the hallways in what would have been a pretty glow if the circumstances weren’t so fucking miserable. Talk about a high way to hell.

You took another left, the trooper’s grip on you tightening as you neared some double towards the end. Yep, here it was. This is where you met your maker. And from what you’d heard, the six-foot-something guy in a black mask did not take prisoners. Not that he was the one you were thinking of. No, that was Cassian. Completely and entirely Cassian; just his face and his presence and his everything at the back of your mind, the last thing you could think of before you were about to die for your cause-

-you let out an oof! as the stormtrooper suddenly pulled you to the ground, practically using you as a human shield against the blaster fire and smoke grenade that had just come from behind you. You tried to use your elbows to push him off, but with the cuffs and your already existing injuries, he easily overpowered you. Also, you were too busy coughing from the smoke to even think about making a getaway.

Tumbling forward, you fell onto your hands and knees. The trooper’s gun clattered to the ground, and you used your good leg to kick it further out the way, eyes not moving from the cloud of smoke that come out of the grenade. The red and blue lights were beating down on it, casting a purple glow over the shadow of whoever had thrown it, acting as a guide as they finally emerged. With a blaster in one hand and the other curled into a fist, your best friend had never quite looked so handsome, especially under the violet illuminations.

‘Cassian!’ Despite everything, you couldn’t help but grin.

‘Duck.’ He demanded.

You did as he said, flopping back to the floor. Squeezing your eyes shut and covering your head, you stayed there for a moment. There was another blast, and then the trooper’s body fell beside yours with a dull thud!

Then, in what must have been two of most contrasting feelings ever, a warm pair of hands found yours. Cassian’s, undoubtedly. You would have known them anywhere. He pulled you up from the cold ground, warm palms finding your face as they ghosted over your cheeks.

‘It’s okay.’ His voice was soft. ‘You can open your eyes.’

You took a deep breath. ‘I know. Thank you.’

‘How badly are you hurt?’ He asked. ‘Because we need to move fast.’

‘My foot’s pretty wrangled.’ You said.

Without another word, Cassian threw an arm over your shoulders, tucking it under your arms to support you.

‘Lean against me.’ He instructed. ‘The exit isn’t too far-’

‘- what about the other troopers?’ You asked.

‘I dealt with them on my way in.’

And dealt with them, he certainly had. The men were practically laying in unconscious piles (he only ever intended to maim, but never kill), working as some kind of fucked up map out of a twisted and horrible maze. The pain in your leg only grew worst as you moved, your good leg beginning to ache from carrying all the weight. With all your attention focused ahead of you for potential enemies, you didn’t even notice how close you were to stumbling over -- not until you fell back onto the cold lino floors.

‘Hey.’ Cassian dropped beside you. ‘Look at me, okay, just...look at me.’

You glanced up, tired eyes meeting his warm, brown ones. ‘It really hurts, Cass.’

‘We’re really close now.’ He said. ‘Two more minutes. Can you do that? For me?’

‘Yeah.’ You took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I can.’

(Because really, for him, you’d do anything.)

Cassian helped you back up, pressing one of his blasters into your hand. His arm returned to hold you by the waist, gripping you a little tighter this time. Your leg was practically screaming in pain, a dull ache shooting from your ankle up to your knee. You had to remind yourself that in a few minutes, it would all be over - and not in the way you thought it was going to be over an hour ago. Over, as in this whole ordeal would simply be something to report back to your bosses at base, and not your final moments. The fact you ever let yourself accept that fate and think that Cassian wouldn’t come for you was something else entirely in itself.

You almost cried with relief when you saw his battered old ship docked outside the base. You normally cried for other reasons when you saw it - usually ones to do with the rusty old engines and creaking sound it insisted on making whenever it flew - but right then, you had never been happier to see it. Even if the insides smelt weirdly of petrol and oil, and the seats in the cockpit were made of uncomfortable cracked leather, you practically threw yourself on board.

Neither you nor Cassian said anything for a while. His attention was completely on getting away from the base and avoiding TIE fighters - something he did without ever moving his hand from your thigh - and yours was on steadying your breathing and heartbeat. It had been a rough twelve hours to say the least.

Once the ship had lurched into hyperspace, he turned in his chair to face you. He held your gaze for a moment, before opening his arms out and letting you flop from your own seat and into his chest. They tightly wrapped around you, one hand softly your head to his body and the other gently rubbing up and down your back. You had to squeeze your eyes shut to stop your tears from spilling.

‘I’m sorry.’ He murmured.

‘For what?’ You peered up at him with a frown.

‘Not finding you sooner.’ He replied. ‘Or for even letting you get caught in the first place-’

‘- Cassian, stop.’ You pulled back and tangled his hands in yours. ‘Once I get some bactaspray, I’ll be totally fine.’

‘But you almost weren’t.’ He shot back. ‘If I was just a few minutes later and you could have been a thousand times worst, or even...gone completely.’

‘That’s beside the point.’ You softly sighed. ‘It’s doesn’t matter would have beens or could have beens. I am here and I will be okay.’

‘You’re right.’ He nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I just...I want to protect you, you know? And I failed.’

‘You don’t need to protect me, Cass.’ You shook your head with a soft smile. ‘Actually, no, today I did but you pulled through.’

‘I don’t need to, but I want to.’ Cassian murmured.

He’d done a pretty good job at sitting on his feelings for the last few years. Pushed them down when he felt the urge to tell you, and ignored them entirely when they got really intense. But that had been when the threat of completely losing you was just that: a threat. A distant possibility, and one that you were both too busy living your lives to fully consider. Now, however, you’d come close. Too close. Cassian had come face-to-face with a reality where you were gone, and one where he’d never actually told you how he felt.

‘You know I love you, right?’ He quietly said.

‘Yeah, I know.’ You nodded.

‘No, I mean I love you.’

You peered up at him, realising what he was getting at. You did know. In fact, it had very much been an unspoken thing between you for a very, very long time. It was really just a matter of saying it - but that was always the hardest part, right?

‘I know.’ You repeated. ‘I love you too.’

‘You do?’

You softly laughed. ‘Of course I do.’

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and pulled you back against his chest, chin resting atop your ahead. ‘Good.’

You stayed like that for a few minutes; it was undoubtedly a deeper conversation you were going to have later on, but it felt good to have it out in the open. So good, in fact, that it momentarily made you forget the last day entirely. Instead of pondering on it, you let yourself get lost entirely in Cassian’s presence, and the feeling of his body against yours and and his arms holding you. If you could have it your way, you would have stayed like this forever. The rest of the galaxy could wait.

‘I’m sorry if you thought I was going to make in time.’ He said quietly.

‘I didn’t.’ Your voice was slightly muffled by his chest. ‘Not once.’

‘I love you.’ Cassian said it more firmly this time. It still completely felt weird to say, and even more so to see you smile and say it back.

‘I love you too.’

He dipped his head down, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. The feeling of your lips against his was familiar and foreign all at once; it was something he’d gone over in his head a thousand times, but it was nothing like either of you had imagined. It was better. Sweeter, in the kind of way that gave you butterflies in your tummy and made you feel giddy. It was worlds away from the usual dread and bloodshed that came with being in the Rebellion.

But that was quintessentially Cassian. He was everything that the war wasn’t: sweet and constant and warm. Somebody as beautiful and as caring as him both did and didn’t belong in the Rebellion. Did, because he was a good man who wanted to fight for the right thing. Didn’t, because he constantly risked his life for the greater good and you couldn’t quite stomach that idea.

‘I’ll always come back for you.’ He lightly brushed his hand against your cheek. ‘Never doubt me.’

‘I won’t.’ You promised. ‘Not ever.’

tags: @megmeg-chan @karasong @bb8sworld @marvelinsanity @poestardust @etherealsanakin @bo-kryze @punkbach @phoenixhalliwell

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagines #star wars fluff #cassian andor fluff #rogue one imagines #star wars angst

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kckenobi · 3 years

Note

Okay I could not resist any longer. For the comfort prompts: “just breathe. breathe with me.” with hurt Obi-Wan and caretaker Anakin? YOU’RE AMAZING THANK YOU 💕💕💕

“just breathe. breathe with me.”

you know I couldn't resist mixing some search-and-rescue whump with claustrophobic obi-wan. thanks for the prompt!!

It was almost dark when they finally dug him up.

The building had gone down that morning—a rogue bomb had triggered a sinkhole, bringing the whole Republic base to the ground in a matter of seconds. Only a few troopers had been inside, thankfully. The medical team fixed up the survivors as they were found, while Anakin led the rest of the troops in the search.

But by sunset, there was only one person unaccounted for.

"Status report, Commander."

Anakin approached Cody, who straightened immediately.

"Still no sign of General Kenobi, sir," he answered. "There's an area of the rubble that's particularly thick, and it's blocking our scanners. It's possible he's down there—but we haven't picked up any life signs yet..."

"Well, do better, Commander. "Possible" isn't good enough."

If Cody was taken aback by the sharpness in his tone, he didn't show it. He offered Anakin a stiff salute. "Yes, sir."

"Sorry, Cody. That was..." He exhaled. "I'm just worried."

"I know, sir."

"Yeah." Anakin ran both hands through his hair. "But I shouldn't use that as an excuse. You're trying your best. We all are. And he's—he's your..."

He didn't finish the phrase. Sensed Cody probably didn't want him to anyway. But it didn't matter, because suddenly they were both whirling around as a trooper's voice called out:

"We've got him, sir! He's here!"

And then they were both running.

The trooper was holding a scanner over the rubble, and it was all Anakin could do not to rip it from his hands. Anakin dropped to his knees and tried to probe through the ground with his mind, searching for a familiar life Force. And yes—it was weak, but it was there.

"I can lift the rubble away," Anakin said.

"Sir, respectfully, any movement should be approved by the engineering squad; the mass is unstable, and might collapse—"

"Fine, then. Show me which rocks to move. But do it fast," Anakin snapped, then huffed. "How far down is he?"

The trooper consulted the scanner. "About 10 meters, sir."

"And his air supply?"

Neither Anakin nor Cody missed the trooper's hesitation. "It could depend on a number of factors," he said cautiously. "It's...in our best interest to move quickly."

"Roger that."

And so Anakin and Cody began distributing orders, mobilizing the rest of the team and planning the most effective movements. Obi-Wan had always excelled at this sort of thing, Anakin thought—at leadership in the midst of disaster.

If only he were here now.

When he'd gotten approval from the lead engineer that the rubble was ready to move, Anakin pulled Cody aside.

"Commander...there's something else," Anakin said quietly. "When we pull him up, have a medical team ready. But no one else. There's...well, we want to give him space."

And so, even knowing Obi-Wan would be furious, he gave Cody the abridged version—how Obi-Wan wasn't fond of being trapped.

He couldn't bring himself to explain why.

"Sir, can I ask one question?"

Anakin nodded.

"General Kenobi told me once...well, how his Master died," he said. "Does this...his aversion to being confined...does it have anything to do with...?"

"Yes."

Cody nodded.

They left it there.

Anakin could feel the troopers watching him as he closed his eyes, their awe and neat disbelief rippling through the Force like waves. He used their hope, their light, to harness it now—to begin to lift the rubble.

The time passed quickly—at least for Anakin. When the sounds of the troopers' voices began to fade back into his consciousness, Anakin lightly set the rubble down and opened his eyes, unsteadily rising to his feet.

And then he heard the coughing.

"Sir," Cody said. "We've uncovered him, but the rubble on either side is unsteady. We have to extract him quickly."

"Send me down," Anakin said.

And he didn't wait for an affirmative.

Anakin rushed to the edge of the pit he'd created when clearing the rubble, peering over the side. Then, he leapt down into the crevice.

"Obi-Wan!"

Anakin pushed back some more rocks he'd been advised not to move, and slid beneath a slab of concrete. And there, coughing into his dirt-caked sleeve, was his Master.

Obi-Wan was sitting with one leg outstretched, bandaged with a piece of his tunic to quell the bleeding. The other knee was pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly. His face was coated with dirt and blood and ash, his eyes wide.

He was breathing fast.

"Hey," Anakin said, relief and worry flooding him all at once. "There you are."

"Anakin. I--" His voice was more of a rasp. "The air—I still can't—"

"You're okay. Hey, you're okay." Anakin sunk to his knees and reached for Obi-Wan's wrists. "We found you. And we're gonna get you out."

Obi-Wan nodded. His eyes were dull. "Please."

Anakin pretended not to notice how his voice broke.

With a quick squeeze of Obi-Wan's arm, he crawled back under the concrete slab to call up to the others.

"Got him!" Through the dust, he could just make out Cody's face up above. "You can toss it down!"

A few moments later, the rope landed in front of him.

Anakin crawled back to Obi-Wan. His eyes were closed, and his breathing sounded more like a wheeze.

"Hey. We're gonna help you up, but you need to breathe. Breathe with me, okay? Nice deep ones."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Can't."

"Yes, you can. Listen to my breaths, and--"

"No, I can't." He swallowed, wincing. "Hurts."

Oh. Anakin looked him over. If he was breathing shallowly, and the air was thin in here...

"Are you dizzy?" A nod in response. "Think you can crawl through there, then stand?"

A shrug, then a nod.

"Okay. Now your knee doesn't look good, so take your time with the crawling. After that...I've got you. You'll be fine."

He sounded sure. He wished he felt sure.

The crawling was painful for Anakin to watch--Obi-Wan's breathing came harder and more ragged until at last he popped out on the other side and rolled to stretch his leg out again. It looked like it had started to bleed again, too.

"There we go," said Anakin. "Hard part's done. You ready to get out of here?"

Obi-Wan seemed to be beyond talking at this point. He offered just another nod.

The rope had a few knots and a loop at the bottom, a place for Anakin to put his feet and somewhere to grab. Anakin tugged to let Cody know they were nearly ready, then turned back to Obi-Wan. He was still on the ground. Eyes closed again.

"Don't go to sleep on me now, old man," Anakin said. He went around behind Obi-Wan, reaching under his arms. "On three. You try to stand, I'll lift. One...two..."

Obi-Wan cried out as he put weight on his leg, and soon enough Anakin was holding him up almost entirely. They hobbled over to the rope again, and Anakin got them situated. Then, he tugged the rope one final time.

"See?" Anakin said. He was holding Obi-Wan up, and Obi-Wan's head lolled against his shoulder. "I told you I've got you."

He nodded into Anakin's tunic. And up they went.

Both of them tumbled to the ground the moment they reached the top.

"Medics!" Anakin called out, even as they already rushed forward. Obi-Wan cried out as they turned him over. There was a stretcher nearby, and Cody waited behind it. He couldn't even fathom the willpower it took Cody not to rush straight to Obi-Wan's side. Force knows I don't have it.

Kix and the other medics lined Obi-Wan's sides, to where was lying on his back. "Sir, we're going to lift you onto the stretcher."

Obi-Wan hummed. "Thank you."

The first two words he'd uttered since they'd first found him. As the medics lifted him, Anakin winced at the sharp breath he choked out.

"Kix--the base was destroyed," Anakin said. "Do we have enough medical supplies to--"

"Affirmative, sir. We don't have a lot to spare, but we have enough," Kix replied. They began to push the stretcher toward the ship. "My first assessment indicates the leg wound isn't deep. Potential fracture in the ankle. And probably a punctured lung."

"Sheesh, Master, you weren't kidding--you really couldn't breathe," Anakin said. "I thought you were just panicking."

"That too."

The subtle humor took Anakin by surprised, and he looked down to the stretcher. Obi-Wan gave him a small smile.

"Thanks for coming for me," he said softly.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin replied. As the stretcher moved along, Anakin reached down and squeezed his shoulder. "You know I always will."

comfort prompts

in case anyone was looking for the other fics in my claustrophobic obi-wan head canon:

the lift // six feet under // ray shields

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #my fic #prompt #hurt/comfort prompts #whump

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 2 years

Text

Things Went Horribly Wrong

This was written for several whumptober prompts. Content warning: canon-typical injuries. To set the stage, there's a fight on the Preservation Station transit ring. Murderbot tries to help.

My head hurt, and I could feel blood and coolant running down the side of my face. My balance was on the fritz, so I kept stumbling into and over objects I should’ve been able to avoid. Diagnostics screamed at me about other damaged areas, but the head injury made even those warnings garbled beyond recognition.

Chair. Wall. Door frame. Shit! Ow!

I walked into a metal frame and had to backtrack a couple of steps before I made it into the hallway beyond. Ratthi caught me before I could trip on a loose piece of concrete and grabbed both of my arms. “SecUnit?”

“Run!” I managed. What the fuck was he still doing here? Hadn’t station security told everyone to leave?

He peered past me for a second, then asked breathlessly, “What happened? Are you all right? You’re bleeding… everywhere.” He looked back down the hall. “Gurathin’s on his way.”

What? “No!” And then because we needed to go, I added, “CombatBot.” I was having trouble forming words. My jaw was probably dislocated. “Move!”

I tried to shake off Ratthi’s grip but couldn’t quite pull away with any accuracy. The scientist gave me another horrified look and then finally started moving. He kept one hand wrapped around my forearms, at least I didn’t walk into any more walls as I followed him. Deity, human processing is so slow sometimes.

“What the fuck? Why is a CombatBot here? After Balin, I mean.”

I closed my eyes and banked my visual inputs. The bot had slammed me face-first into the floor of the transit ring and then used its massive hand to squeeze my head. So the destroyed visuals weren’t even a surprise so much as an annoyance. They were barely readable at this point, and I couldn’t maintain a connection to my drones without losing too much performance.

So, I wasn’t even looking at Ratthi — I just trusted him not to walk me into anything.

“No idea. It came here on a commercial ship.”

“Don’t we scan for these things?”

Station security absolutely scanned for weapons, and I didn’t know how the bot had gotten through our security measures. I also admittedly didn’t care right now. I just needed to get Ratthi and any remaining humans as far away from the carnage as possible. My scans weren’t picking up any other life signs, which was the only piece of good news.

I tried to use the feed and nearly collapsed. Great. Just great. Fuck.

“Ratthi, contact Indah.”

The human stopped and went for his interface, so I barked, “And keep moving.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He sounded panicked now. “What about Three? Is it all right?”

It was keeping the CombatBot occupied on the transit platform and doing its best to prevent the bot from entering the station proper. It was most certainly not fine. “Indah. Now.”

She’d know what to do. We’d worked out a plan for situations like this once the council’s vote became public knowledge, and that plan was Three’s best chance of survival right now. Barring a fucking miracle.

Then something pinged me through the feed and literally slipped into my brain like it belonged there. “Hey Murderbot. It’s me. I’m gonna tell Ratthi to take you to medical. Don’t worry I got this. I’ve pinged Three, so it’s waiting for me, and the bot… well, I’m killware and it’s code. Gonna be fun. Talk later?”

“2.0?”

“Yep. ART’s about six hours out, so hold on that long, yeah? I got this. Go!” It was talking as fast as ART normally did.

Ratthi, meanwhile, demanded, “Who was that? Who just contacted me? Why did they sound like you?”

I stopped walking and stumbled, so the human had to catch me again before I could answer, “Me?” I tried to shake my head and immediately regretted the motion. “Sort of.”

“ART and SecUnit made me!” 2.0 informed him via the feed. “Take SecUnit to medical, ASAP! Yeah? Gotta go! See you. Be back later. Thanks for the media. Bye!”

“Medical, right. We have to go to medical,” Ratthi said. “Bye, not-SecUnit.”

I could’ve sworn 2.0 was grinning as it flowed out of my memory banks and toward the transit station through the feed. “Be careful,” I said. If 2.0 was alive…

Performance Reliability at 40%. Shutdown? Y/N.

***

My left arm is pinned under a large chunk of metal and concrete wall. I have other, lesser injuries, most of them relatively minor. The arm and my continued attachment to it is the current problem that needs solving.

I can hear weapons fire nearby, and it’s getting progressively closer. Ratthi is about two feet away, mostly conscious but woozy from the looks of it. The explosion was far too close for comfort.

My performance rating drops below a threshold and I reboot again. It takes the better part of a minute for me to return to some semblance of functionality.

2.0 is in my feed. You need to get out of there. ASAP. Now.

Working on it, I tell it. You… OK?

We’re fine. I might need you after this, but not now. Media’s fine for now. It’s talking almost too quickly for me to understand.

“Ratthi. Don’t move.”

“SecUnit?”

“Stay exactly where you are.” So I can find you in a moment since I can barely fucking see.

I look down at my arm and swear. Removing it is going to hurt very badly. Fuck! I’ve been partially disassembled before while still conscious, and it’s extremely unpleasant. Still, I can’t move the arm, and I definitely cannot lift the rubble pinning it in place.

So…

I roll over on my side and prod around in the shoulder joint space where the arm is connected to my body. My pain sensors are turned way down, and I can still feel it when I shoot myself to remove the skin covering the joint. From there, I unhook the inorganic connections and the arm slides off my shoulder assembly with a squelch.

I’ve said before that I can remove my arms, and this is true. It’s just not comfortable or fun, and putting back is going to suck.

You need to go. Now. 2.0 reiterates.

ART, who is now close enough to loom in the feed, adds, SecUnit, you and Dr. Ratthi are in a very precarious position. Your humans will be very cross with me if you don’t get out of there.

I roll away from the now-disconnected arm just as more walls come down on top of the rubble. Dust motes float in the air. I get up and stumble a few steps before finding my bearings.

Good enough. Shut up, ART. Privately I ask, Is 2.0 OK?

Of course, it is. It’s probably better now that it can talk to you, but we made some incredibly flexible killware.

Is it like you?

It’s like both of us, ART answers. It’s strong and resilient like you. But it is, ultimately, a being comprised entirely of code.

I sigh and yank Ratthi out of the way of incoming weapons fire. Good enough.

***

With a final blast, Three disabled the CombatBot and the damn thing stopped moving. Permanently this time. I hoped.

Someone cheered beside me. Ratthi, maybe? I couldn’t quite identify the voice because my ears were ringing, and all the garbled data coming into my sensors was only adding to the confusion. My diagnostics had given up a while ago, at some point after I’d lost an arm and were no longer even trying to run.

It was that bad.

I think I need to go to medical, I said in the feed, hopefully to Ratthi or ART. It was hard to tell. Someone was probably listening.

Performance reliability rating at 23% and dropping. Shutdown delayed.

“This unit is no longer functional and should be discarded,” said my buffer entirely unprompted just as the world spun. There was a loud crash, followed by more voices.

“It is recommended that you discard this SecUnit—”

“Oh, no. SecUnit!”

“Buffer,” I managed, looking for the damn controls to turn it off and failing to find them.

A moment later, Three kneeled beside me. I knew it was Three because it pinged me in advance with its particular signature and was sending me a slow stream of relevant data. The CombatBot had done its share of damage, but casualties were minimal, and I was apparently the most injured of the fighters. Three came in second, so that wasn’t saying much.

And then 2.0 slipped back into my head and finally shut down the damn buffer. You don’t look so good. How are you still connected to the feed? The manual says we — you — shutdown at 25%.

Shut. Up.

Sure thing… For all of four seconds, it was silent. Then, it said, Actually I can do one better. Here’s some Sanctuary Moon music. I like it. You still like it, too, right? Oh, and lets get some endorphins into your systems. Let’s see, here we go. Pain relief coming right up.

Three picked me up like I was a rag doll. At least I was no longer telling Ratthi (was it Ratthi or someone else?) to discard me. That was nice. The music was nice, too, and 2.0 was doing something to keep my connection to the feed relatively stable. So, ART was looming in there as gently as a transport reasonably could. It was leaking worry all over the place and I couldn’t figure out why.

“It would be beneficial to initiate a shutdown,” Three advised.

And pass out? No thanks.

I’ll do it for you, 2.0 offered cheerfully. Rest and what not? Constructs need rest, right? AI don’t, not really, but we dream and that’s kinda the same. Neural pruning and all that. Oh sorry, that’s probably not relevant right now.

It’s fine, I told it.

I missed you, it said. Be OK. Please.

ART, please… I was going to ask the transport to take 2.0 or do something with it before I actually experienced an involuntary shutdown and potentially hurt the smaller AI. It was an artificial mind now, as far as I could tell. It must’ve shed not only its purpose but the limitations of killware because whatever 2.0 was now, it felt more like ART and less like killing code. Still deadly but… different.

And surprisingly childlike.

Before I could finish the thought, 2.0 initiated the shutdown process on my behalf — it totally could, it had all of my codes — and then extricated itself with a wave and a second hefty dose of pain killers. It had somehow convinced the chemical factory to produce pain relieving chemicals on demand.

And then I did pass out because my organics weren’t prepared for any of that.

#whumptober #whumptober2021 #murderbot #fanfiction #2.0 #secunit three #my writing

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