#i took this from the top of BLADE tower and had to tilt the camera so Fortun wasn't photobombing me

[wreckscalibur]

Played some Xenoblade Chronicles X in honor of its 8th anniversary and there was an aurora in New LA. Coincidence?

Yes, definitely.

Happy birthday, Mira!

#xenoblade chronicles x #xenoblade x #i took this from the top of BLADE tower and had to tilt the camera so Fortun wasn't photobombing me

[octania]

Your nicknames have me WHEEZING. I was thinking "Demolishing King of Pussy" for Waka no cap. You got any thirst for Captain Burns? I would pay to rake my nails down his back. -Wingless

Allow your Octy to sprinkle some love for you my fiery Wingless 😘 😈

Your sharp nails, driven by pure provocation, could not choose a worse target to mark. Seeing your big man posing so shamelessly for a calendar used for intimate needs for women all around the city, made you want to teach him a lesson and remind him just to who he belongs to.

Before he went for the shooting, you slipped your soft hands under his rope, the only thing he was wearing, seducing him with sensual kisses while working your way to his back. Sucking on your lower lip and exploring your greedy mouth with his sweet tongue, made him pick you up with ease, pressing your body on his wide torso. Just want you needed to reach his back even more......sneaky lil’ bee you aree..

Without warning, you attacked, scratching his mighty shoulder blades, leaving your signature on his skin.

A deep growl filled the room, resembling the sound of wild animals getting ready to attack. He pulled you away, towering over your, staring you down while fire appeared on his uncovered eye.

He knew exactly what have you done.

His shooting was over quickly, as the make up crew give their best to hide your marks, making you gaze upon their nasty hands covering your tracks with pure contempt. But, after all of them were gone from the set, Captain Burns remained seated in the throne, squeezing his strong fists. You continued your little tantrum, asking him did he like the attention, is he proud that the girls will get their sexual thrill on his naked body. But your rudeness can only go so far....

“You better come here if you value your legs.”- he hissed, making you swallow on your own words. You were familiar with this tone, and it meant trouble. The last time he said something like this, your ass was so sore from his slaps, you had a hard time putting your jeans on, making you wear skirts so the material does not squeeze the abused flesh from all of his slaps and then thrusting to top it off.

It was too late to act like a innocent one, and you realized it when he pulled you on him, flipping you over and placing you back on his knees, while your legs were resting on his shoulders. You skirt dropped , exposing your intimate parts to him.

“You want to mark your territory? Let us document this moment.”- he roared as he grabbed a little remote that had a red button on it. He pressed it, making a huge camera flesh and take the first picture of you half naked while he bites your panties off. You whined apologies, feeling too exposed, fearing where the pictures would end up, but this was only the beginning. The photos he took next were:

You having your throat filled with his massive dick as he fingered your pussy to make you squirm and choke over his length.

Him splitting your folds open while making you spread your legs with his knees, making your entrance  exposed fully to the lens of the camera, along with your tits cupped with his enormous hand.

You ridding that huge cock , while he ordered you to play with your tits like a experienced whore.

Drilling in you in a doggy style position while pulling your hair to make you tilt your head back, playing with your mouth with his fingers, as you saliva dripped along your jaw to the floor.

And finally, making a delicious creampie of you , making you drop on your knees and spread your cheeks so the lens can capture that load dripping along your slit and to the floor, while you are forced to lick the last drops of the tip of his dick.

Now he has the pictures, making you think twice before you have another tantrum, plus, he does use it for his...khm...”one handed releases”...

#fire force #leonard burns #enen no shouboutai #captain burns

[coveredinsweetpea]

Sweet pea and handcuffs and little bit of his pocket knife play concept or I’m being extra the boy he’s a bad boy but so sexy and dangerous 😍😍😍😍

Pure filth. I wanted to do more but i need to get back to studying. I hope it’s decent! (Warning: not edited lmao)

-

"Tell me, love" Sweet Pea grunted, slamming the door of his house shut. You had walked in first, and remained with your back turned to him, finding it impossible to stop a smile of enthusiasm from curling onto your lips.

"Hm?" you mumbled.

"Did you find that funny?" he grunted, referring to you grinding against Archie's cock during that party that you had just attended together.

"I know he did" you chuckled, turning around to see Sweet Pea flaring with anger.

"You think?"

"Oh, I know" you laughed, knowing full well how hard you were pushing his buttons, "Or wait- his cock got really hard, so I think he found it more hot than funny"

"Annoy me, baby doll" he grinned, walking towards you. His body towered over you and your mouth watered as a familiar pressure started building up between your legs in anticipation, "Try me, see what happens"

"I know what will happen" you smiled, innocently looking up into his eyes, allowing the lie to slip right through your teeth, "You know he used to fuck me better than you do. You're all talk, Pea"

"And no bark?" he played along.

"Nope" you shook your head, "I'm being honest now, you've got the biggest cock I've ever seen, but still, you don't really know what to do with it"

"I don't know, do I?"

"If you did, Pea" you sighed, "You think I'd still dream of Archie ruining me"

"You're right" he grunted, the raw anger in his veins making his voice all raspy and broken, "You wouldn't"

"Since you understand" you nodded, closing the distance between your bodies and allowing your breasts to brush against his muscular chest, "You wouldn't mind if I texted him right now, right?"

This time, Sweet Pea failed to answer. You knew he probably reached the end of his patience, so you licked your lips, and grabbed your phone as you spun around on your heels, ready to walk away and text Archie. However, you didn't get a chance to take more than a step, until he grabbed your right elbow and forcefully pulled you back against his chest. His hand came around your frame, and grabbed your chin to get you to tilt your head and look at him over your shoulder.

"Give me your phone" he groaned, his breath fanning against your lips.

"Why?"

Sweet Pea chuckled, "Angel, you're not in a position to ask any questions anymore"

His words hit right between your legs. You handed him your phone, and he grabbed with his free hand, stuffing it in his pocket as he maintained his grip on your chin. His eyes dripped lust as he looked down at you. The tension in the room was unbearable, but just when you wanted to push him a bit more, he let you go.

"Wait for me in the bedroom" he said, walking across the living room, "And you'd better not be wearing any of that if you want to wear them ever again"

Barely able to contain your arousal, you swallowed thickly and headed for your room. Initially, you were determined to test him further and not undress, but you knew him, and as hot it had been in the moment, there are few shirts you still miss after he ripped them off of you in the past. So, you took your clothes off, remaining only in your lace underwear, and settled on the bed. It wasn't long before you heard him walk down the hallway, and your impatience grew stronger.

After he walked inside, he stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head, smiling, "What's that love?" he asked, pointing to your body.

You looked down at your body, "I though-"

"Yeah, you're right actually" he chuckled, approaching you. You raised yourself to welcome him with a kiss, but he instead kept the distance, and only grabbed your wrists. Sweet Pea pushed you back, and guided your arms up, over your head, and towards the bed post. He kept your arms in place with one hand as with the other he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. The simple sight of them, made your eyes roll back as you bit your lip in sweet anticipation.

In a matter of seconds, he had your restrained with your arms above your head. He settled on top of you, knees on each side of your hips.

"Pea" you moaned, trying to create some friction between your legs, but it was to no avail.

"What, love?" he cooed, leaning down to kiss your lips. After all the waiting, you welcomed his lips against yours with hunger, begging for his tongue to open your mouth.

"Come on, Pea" you whined, "Please"

"Please, what?" he laughed, "Now you want me to fuck you?"

You eagerly nodded yes, but it only prompted him to chuckle in return.

"You know you're gonna have to do so much more than that" he shook his head.

Sweet Pea pushed himself up and turned to look at your panties. "First of all, these need to go. I wanna see how wet you get when you beg"

Out of instinct, you pushed your hips up, and expected him to wrap his fingers around the sides of your underwear, but much to your surprise, he reached into his pocket again, and brought out his knife. It had your initials carved into the wood of its handle, and when you felt the blade brush past your skin ever so slowly, your pussy tingled. Without thinking twice, Sweet Pea pushed his knife through the material of your panties, making it ridiculously easy for him to rid you of them.

"Fuck" you gasped, arching your back.

"Thought I wasn't gonna do it?" he laughed, "Is that it?"

"That was really, really-" you said, breathing heavily, "Hot"

"You fucking slut" he shook his head, "Does this turn you on?" Sweet Pea asked, raising his knife.

"Maybe?"

"The things that make your whore wheels turn..." he sighed, letting his head fall back.

"Please, Pea" you moaned.

"Please what, angel?" he asked, guiding his hand between your legs. His fingers were instantly met with your damp core. Pea kept his eyes trained on yours, waiting for a reply as he teasingly rubbed his middle finger up and down your folds.

"Please fuck me, Pea" you panted, his touch just enough to drive you crazy, "I need you"

"This pussy wet for me?" he asked, pressing his thumb against your clit and forcing a whimper to escape your lips.

"Yes! I only want you"

He shook his head, "I don't buy that. Try harder" he commanded, pressing his fingers against your sweet spots.

It took you a second to gather your words, but before you managed to open your mouth to speak, you felt the cold metallic blade of his knife against your hip again. He dragged it up your side as you breathed out ruggedly. When the sharp tip reached your exposed breasts, you froze.

"Are you a good girl now?" Sweet Pea taunted, "Are you gonna tell me what I want to hear?"

"Yes, yes" you breathed, "Please, Pea, I'm begging you, I'm so fucking wet, I need you inside me"

"I know for a fact you can express yourself better" he grinned, leaning down to hover mere inches above you. His dark eyes bore into yours, keeping your mind busy. What brought you back to reality was his knife pressing now against your cheek. The simple fact that you knew there was not a chance in hell he would hurt you, even if he had the power to do so, drove you insane. 6'3 worth of bad boy muscle, with a hard cock between your legs, dominating you in your own bedroom was all you needed.

"I'm begging you, Pea" you panted, rubbing your thighs together the best you could, "I really need your cock, I really do, fill me up please, I will be a good girl. I'm your good whore, daddy. I promise I'll take you so good"

"I know you will, angel" he nodded, speaking directly against your lips. "I know a whore like you can take a cock, but whose cock do you want?" he asked, pressing the blunt side of his pocket knife harder against your skin.

"Yours" you moaned, "Only yours, I don't want anyone else! I don't want to make anyone else cum. I don't want anyone else to touch me, ever"

"See?" Sweet Pea smiled, "Was that so hard?" and tossed his knife onto the night stand.

You nodded now, smiling in anticipation.

"Now prove it, baby doll" he grinned, standing up. As he worked on finally undressing himself, he never looked away from you. "Show me how badly you want to please me, and then, I'll fuck you into oblivion, baby. Make you cum again and again until the sun rises"

As soon as he pulled off his underwear, his painfully hard cock sprung free, making your mouth water. You expected him to settled between your legs, but instead, he moved higher up your body, and placed his knees on each side of your shoulders.

"These cuffs are not coming off until I'm sure you know who you belong to"

"I don't want them off" you responded, looking up at him.

When he guided his hand to give himself a few pumps, you lowered your eyes. His erect cock was mere inches away from your lips and you opened your mouth and poked your tongue out, expressing your eagerness.

"That's right" he moaned, allowing his tip to finally connect to your tongue. A few seconds later, he lowered himself even more, so you could now easily bop your head up and down his cock.

This position, although fulfilling a number of your fantasies, put a strain in your neck, and looking up at him was more difficult than you would have liked. So you settled on thoroughly sucking him. With your cheeks hallowed around his cock and your tongue pressed flat against its underside, you were determined to have him panting your name as he came. When you pulled back and took a deep breath, you looked up, and your eyes landed on the camera of your phone being pointed down at you.

Your cheeks flushed.

"Now you know who you belong to, but I gotta make sure that north side asshole knows too"

-

SEND ME MORE SMUT IDEAS!!!!!!

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #riverdale imagine #riverdale #sweet pea smut #riverdale smut #sweet pea fic #sweet pea writing #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea blurb #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fic

[shipwreckedshadows]

The Shadow Prime thing.

[after his failure to keep Catra and Glimmer contained, Horde Prime captures another prisoner in the hopes that she might have some value to him]

Shadow Weaver tested the bounds of her magic as she waited to be retrieved from her cell. The shadows responded to her call, as they always had, but they did so without motivation. They would not be effective in a fight. She tried to search for any hint of darkness on the ship and found that she could sense a large mass of it at the center of the space craft. It pulsed with irrational need and the sins of a prideful man. Her cell was three levels up from the source but she could not recall following any stairs to get there. Perhaps the floor was uneven and progressed at a slight angle, like a giant, spiraling ramp.  Or perhaps there were teleportation pads between floors and she just hadn’t seen one yet.

She inspected the room silently. The bed was docked on either side by two side tables. The one on the right held nothing. The one on the left contained a book. Horde Prime’s insignia had been pressed into the cover. Inside were writings of cultist rhetoric. After thumbing through the pages, she put it back. She never cared for anyone’s rules and she was not about to start.

She lay on the bed and did not move for hours. If there were cameras in her cell, the only thing Prime would observe of his prisoner would be her infinite reservoir of self control. 

After several hours, the cell door slipped open and two clones stepped up to collect her. She did not move, even as they spoke.

“The Lord requests your presence, madam Weaver.” One said politely.

“If he wishes to see me, he can come up here and ask me himself.” Shadow Weaver answered to the ceiling.

“Is something troubling you, my lady of darkness?“ The clone asked after a moment of silence. His intonation had changed. He sounded authoritative and entitled. He held the voice of a king who had seldom lost to anyone. That power she felt from the center of the ship, pulsed now at the foot of her door. The magic of Obtainment swirled within her and she smiled.

“Lovely to see you, Horde Prime. I keep hearing about you.”

“Naturally. Why don’t you allow my clones to escort you and we can introduce ourselves properly?”

Shadow Weaver finally sat up to look at him, “I don’t make for very pleasant company.”

“I would not be asking if I didn’t wish it. You will come to see me if you value your freedom.”

The clone blinked and he returned back to himself - a lost man on the path to purity. Horde Prime’s signature had left and returned to where it came from. She slid off the bed and allowed the clones to lead her to their master.

She frowned when she realized they had moved a floor down. Prime’s signature indicated as much. But the floor didn’t descend at a gradient and she had no memory of a teleportation pad. She kept her mind sharp and leaned more focus into her environment and her actions. They kept walking. The corridors wound around each other like tree branches. Everything looked exactly the same. She wondered how the clones were able to transverse such confusing architecture.

It was too late when she noticed that they had dropped down another floor. She decided to puzzle over it later and calmed herself so she could properly greet and assess Etheria’s new overlord.

They came into a grand room, guarded by more clones. Prime lounged in his throne and managed to look both pleased and menacing. He sat taller than most of the objects in the room. His aura filled the grand room, from the floor to the top of the twenty foot ceiling. Shadow Weaver quelled the Obtainment magic. They would have to feed later. He stood to greet her, arms open wide.

“Welcome, my lady of darkness. It is so lovely to have you here.”

“Nobody has ever said that to my face without later redacting their sentiments.” Shadow Weaver commented offhandedly, “Please spare me the theatrics. I’m only here because you seem have business with me. What do you want?”

Prime scowled, “I can see how, as one of the most powerful magical entities on Etheria, you might feel entitled to direct the conversation. But you are standing in the hall of my light. There are no shadows here, no darkness that will bend to your magic. I will negotiate my terms with you when I feel it is necessary.”

“You sound just like Hordak.”

“Well, of course. I made him in my image. I might have to do the same to you, if you keep with your current attitude.”

“You can hardly blame me. I’m imprisoned here, on this ship, away from my home.”

“Home?” He laughed as he circled her, “You have no home. I know all about your history - your lovely Hordak showed me everything. You’ve been a traitor your whole life. What’s one more defection before everything Etheria once was is lost?” His large frame towered over hers in an effort to intimidate her. She kept her posture relaxed and met his gaze with indifference.

“You wish for me to join you?” She asked skeptically.

“There will be terms, of course, but in a simple word, yes.”

“And will we discuss these terms? Or do I have to endure another round of your plastic pleasantries?”

“We’ll save that conversation for dinner. For now, I want to give us a chance to get to know each other. Come, I wish to show you something.”

She had no choice but to follow him from the throne room, down the twisting halls and into another set of chambers. Otherworldly artifacts decorated the room. Paintings and weapons of distant civilizations mounted the walls, books and odd trinkets sat on shelves and several rugs covered the floor.

“This is my trove of rare and valuable artifacts. It’s a collection curated from all over the galaxy.” He said proudly.

Shadow Weaver couldn’t help but wonder at it all. Other creatures had created, sold, bought, possessed and held these items in their hands. So much history was stored in this room. She noticed an empty pedestal by the large window. 

“It’s... impressive.” She noted without colour in her voice, “Why feel the need to show me? Are you not worried that I may break something?”

“A little.” His fourth eye shifted to the pedestal at the window, “But I feel it is my responsibility to show you the rich history of the worlds I’ve seen”

“And yet you eradicated each and every one of them.”

“Because their people refused to see that they had deteriorated from greatness. They denied my light and without much else to do to persuade them, they had to be purged. It was for the sake of their own good.” His teeth clenched to hold back a wave of anger and disappointment. He saw himself as a protector of the universe. The worlds he destroyed was out of his sense of responsibility to the galaxies - a responsibility to chase away the darkness. Perhaps that was his mission at one point. There were ulterior motives to his mission - motives to rule the galaxy and control everything, from the atomic cycles to the construction of civilizations.

“I kept their possessions to preserve their history, to keep their memories alive.”

“What do you wish to collect from Etheria - so you can commemorate its people... my people?” She asked.

“Originally, I wanted Queen Angella’s wings. She was such a beacon in the fight against my little brother. He had nightmares about her for several months following a bad encounter with her. And she was immortal - that is most definitely a rarity in this universe. You can imagine my disappointment when I found out that she was no longer part of this world.”

Shadow Weaver imagined Prime taking a large scalpel to the angel’s wings, pushing the blade through feathers, flesh and bone. Quickly, she pushed the thought from her mind. “She’s only stuck between worlds, why not build another portal and retrieve her?”

“My lady, do you know how resource intensive portal building is? Besides, I found something better.”

Shadow Weaver waited wordlessly for him to tell her, head tilted to the side and hands clasped in front of her. She had a feeling she knew what he might say.

“The Heart of Etheria. A weapon of magic, preserved inside your planet. I’ll condense it down to the size of a watermelon and put it right at the helm of my collection.” He indicated the pedestal, “I used to have something else to occupy that space. However, it has most unfortunately been disposed of.”

“What do you mean?” Why would Prime do away with one of his precious trophies?

“You ask so many questions, my lady.” he chuckled, “Let me have a turn.” He tapped his chin in mock thought, “Why do you insist on hiding your pretty face from me?”

She scoffed, “Pretty.”

“Horde Prime knows all.” He walked into her personal space and drew a curious finger along the cheek of her mask. “It’s quite hard to speak to you when this thing is in the way.

Shadow Weaver looked up into his face and made no move to stop him.

“You’re so still. Does it not bother you that I might rip your protection away?”

“There are worse things, Horde Prime.”

“Fascinating.” he whispered, “stronger hearts have quivered at the very mention of my name yet yours...” he slipped his fingers under the neck of her gown and shoved them against her jugular, “doesn’t so much as even move!”

“My heart has not moved for over thirty years. I doubt it will start now.”

He kept his hand resting against her neck and removed her mask with his other. She enjoyed the stunned look on his face as he looked into hers. His features remained smooth but she saw the way his extra eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

Prime hardly had his pupils attended to the one single thing, she’d found. Now, she watched them move in unison, across the valleys of scars the burrowed into her aged skin.

She took the mask from him and with her free hand, guided his to the side of her face.

“You are a man of exploration and observation, it seems. It is how you communicate” she said, “You see what is broken and your reflexes tell you to fix it.”

“Are you asking me to heal your scars?”

“Hardly. But healing is your first language. Your tongue speaks through carpentry just as your hands work to build. Observe me, Horde Prime. Communicate with me and perhaps you might land yourself a very good deal.”

He chuckled low in his chest and grinned wide, “How fortunate am I that you can translate so thoroughly.” He traced ever scar on her face until his fingers wove themselves into her thick hair.

“You’re so cold.” He murmured.

“Does it bother you?” She challenged.

“Not at all. It serves to make you more noteworthy.”

He moved his other hand up her neck and followed a trail of gnarled tissue to press the pad of his thumb to her lips. She stowed the mask in her pocket so she could hold his hips properly. Soothingly, she ran one hand up to the center of his back.

“You are sorely mistaken if you think I’m going to put your finger, unwashed and without my knowing where it’s been, in my mouth.” She glared lightly.

He laughed from the deepest bowels of his core. A very good deal, indeed.

#I kinda want to write more of this #like at first i just sort of wrote it bc its a neat crack ship #but now i kind of actually ship it #shadow weaver #horde prime #shadow prime #spop

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Meet Cute prompts, 47" w TodoDeku???

OOOhhhh boi~! This was a real fun one~!

Prompt: Texting the wrong number but continuing the conversation.

"Get a studio apartment!" Natsuo had insisted. "You don't need a lot of space and it'll be more cost efficient!" He said.

Shouto made a mental note to inform Fuyumi that she was his only sibling now.

He groaned as he dropped his school bag and umbrella by the door, then kicked off his shoes. A loud clattering came from the small half-wall that separated the living room space from the bedroom space, watching as a cream colored cat tower toppled right over with a black and white lump fluffed to about twice his normal size clutching the side of it. He winced at the loud clatter it made, knowing that his neighbors would have words with him about that later, and let his head fall back. "Punchy," he breathed out, barely restraining the frustration in his tone.

An excited mewl came from the cat and, when he glanced back down, he'd abandoned the tree and was making a beeline for Shouto. His tail was up high and his yellow eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Punchy," he said, kneeling down to scoop him up, "why do you do this? Do you hate your tree?" He knew he was just talking to himself, but it helped to relax him. When he first got his apartment, he had been surprised by how lonely he felt. Fuyumi had suggested he get a pet, to help keep him company. Looking into it, he found that cats were listed as the best apartment animal, since they were typically pretty independent and could handle long stretches of time alone better than most breeds of dog.

Except, as fate would have it, Shouto had picked the clingiest, neediest kitten to ever exist. Not that he minded, really. He appreciated how affectionate and chatty his four-legged friend was. He just wished that his apartment was a little bit bigger, since it seemed that his rambunctious feline might need more room. 

Punchy let out a chirping little mew in response to his question before headbutting up against his chin. Shouto snorted a bit, bringing one hand up to gently scratch right between his eyes, then gave a few right between his shoulder blades and set him down. He propped the cat tree back up before changing out of his wet clothes and into something dry and warm.

Once that was done, he settled on the couch, his cat right behind him, and started reading articles on his phone. Punchy curled up on his stomach and he dropped one hand to gently pet his head and back, smiling at the rumbly purrs he was awarded. Things were all quiet for about fifteen minutes before his phone pinged with a new text messaging from an unfamiliar number. Which was followed almost immediately by another.

Shouto scowled and toggled over to his messages, clicking on the unread texts.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (5:34 P.M.):

JDOWOJDKIDI ITTY BITTIES

I FOUND ITTY BITTY BABY KITTIES

He blinked slowly, tilting his head curiously at the message. He wanted to say they were excited, but they could also be panicked and looking to ask a friend for help. He figured he should let them know, so they could make sure the tiny kittens were well taken care of.

Me (5:36 P.M.):

Sorry, wrong #

He then paused for a few moments, considering his next move carefully as interest took over, before jotting down another message.

Me (5:38 P.M.):

But pics or it didn't happen

He waited a full ten minutes, waiting to see if he heard back, before settling his phone aside and going to make himself dinner. By the time he was done preparing his own meal and serving Punchy's evening serving of wet food, his phone chimed again several times in a row. He set his plate down on the small table, slid to sitting, and pulled up the message.

He was greeted by several pictures. The first was a picture of five bundled up little fur balls, all squished together in a big and fluffy towel, being cradled by a lightly tanned arm littered in scars. All five had their heads tilted up to stare at the camera and he let out a small whine at how cute and tiny they all were. They were even smaller than Punchy when he brought him home eight months ago! And all their eyes were still that foggy blue-grey all kittens had until their natural color developed. They probably weren't any older than four, maybe five, weeks.

The pictures to follow were of the kittens individually, carefully held up in individual towels so that their markings could be better seen as well as to perhaps determine their genders. The first was mostly brown, but had white mittens on all four paws, the tip of its tail and ears, and it’s little chin. The second was of a little orange tabby kitten, but they seemed to be wiggling about too much and a portion of the green towel the mystery texter had bundled them in was covering the top of their little head. The next was of another tabby, but this one was grey; light grey over most of the body with darker grey stripes and little white paws just like the first. The fourth kitten was another brown and white mix, with the same white markings on their paws and tail as the first, but there was more white along their face, with a strip of brown leading from their little pink nose and getting wider and arching around his eyes and head. The last kitten was a tuxedo, much like Shouto’s own Punchy was, and had markings that seemed to be a sort of hod-podge of the first and fourth. Number five had the same white on its paws and tail as they did, but there was a bit more mottling on its paws where the fur colored changed from black to white - while the divide was clear on the other kittens - and there was more white markings on its face with a thin strip of black under each eye.

All in all, a ridiculously adorable litter of kittens.

Me (6:24 P.M.):

Oh no

They cute

He set his phone aside as he started to eat, turning the television on and switching it over to a crime show for background noise. His phone pinged two more times in the minutes to follow, but he waited until he was mostly done with his food to check again.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:27 P.M.):

rite?????

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:33 P.M.):

Pic

I mom now

The picture was of all five kittens, nestled in their towels and being held between what seemed to be a heating pad and what was clearly a well-defined chest. And that chest was attached to a face, too. He seemed to be about Shouto’s age with wild green curls and big, bright, wide green eyes. His cheeks were covered in freckles and his lower lip was jutted out slightly, clearly melting over the five furry babies in his arm. Shouto’s heart gave a quick jolt in his chest.

Oh no, he was cute, too.

Me (6:44 P.M.):

I want them on the weekends and holidays.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:46 P.M.):

um?????

I am a strong, independent single cat mom who don’t need no man.

Shouto chuckled to himself at the response. He looked down at Punchy, who had clamored back into his lap and dozed off, as he came up with his response.

Me (6:49 P.M.):

You're breaking the family up.

They need their older brother.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:50 P.M.):

waIT

u hav kitty???

PICS NAO

Shouto laughed before clicking over to his gallery. He had plenty of pictures of Punchy, but it was determining which ones to send. He shifted through before selecting three. He picked one from when he first brought him home, when he was still just a teeny fuzzball, and put "Smol knockout" underneath. The next one he picked was from about two months ago, when his friends Tenya and Momo had come to hang out one evening. Momo had purchased a little red and black striped tie for him and, not wanting to miss a good photo op, they had put it on him and taken a few pictures. He added the notation of "Business casual Punchy" to that one. Last was from two weeks ago, when he'd come out to see Punchy sitting on the couch like a little person, back legs spread wide to completely expose his pudgy white tum, and one of his front paws resting on the remote as if he was about to change the channel. "It's been a week, hooman," he added to that one.

He grinned and scratched under the aforementioned cat's chin as he watched the little dots appear as the stranger formulated a response. After a moment, he was blown up with emojis and gifs expressing how much he adored the pictures. Then, after a moment, he actually strung words together.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (6:58 P.M.):

I LUV HIM

WAT

IS

HIS NAME

Me (6:59 P.M.):

His name is Punchy

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:00 P.M.):

DID U NAME HIM AFTER THE CAT FROM AC????

Me (7:00 P.M.):

Ye

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:01 P.M.):

OMGGGGG

PERF

HE PERF

Me (7:02 P.M.):

He is

From there, they wound up chatting about Animal Crossing, their favorite villagers, favorite games and their opinions on the changes made in New Horizons. They also ended up naming the five found kittens after five more villagers. They chose the names Kitty, Tangy, Lolly, Rudy and Tom for the little babies, given their color patterns and genders. Shouto himself wondered if perhaps he could take Tangy once she was a little bit bigger. Maybe having a little friend would help keep Punchy from going full lunatic when Shouto was away.

But if he wanted to do that, he’d need to know the stranger’s name.

Me (7:48 P.M.):

Btw, I still need to know your name

So I know where to send the custody paperwork

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:50 P.M.):

u do kno i can counter sue rite?

And then, a second later, he got his actual answer.

xxxx-xxx-xxx (7:51):

Midoriya Izuku

Shouto blinked then chuckled to himself. Midoriya? Really? That felt like a bit of irony, considering the guy was pure green. He added him to his contacts quickly, grateful to have a name to apply to the hot kitten-saving man.

Me (7:53 P.M.):

Todoroki Shouto

Also, wanna come to my island?

I have Raymond

Midoriya Izuku (7:56 P.M.):

KJFGQLIHP9iuoawj;erfkjbhz;.esrhf

YES

IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION????

#crumbles grumbles #TodoDeku #Guess what I've been watching my sister play? #And guess which cat villager is my favorite? #This is tooth rotting fluff and I am pleased with it #my fics

[trensu]

Episode 19: The One with the Return of the Gay Yearning Death Grip, Now with More Sword!

After enduring EXTREME EMOTIONAL TRAUMA for the last THREE (3) EPISODES IN A ROW, we finally finally get an episode that has some wangxiantics again!!

I mean, they’re still gonna gut us emotionally here too but we can pretend it hurts less because of our brief wangxian moments!!!

Because this is the episode with the BURIAL MOUNDS

*cries*

Alright so golden core transfer Happened. 

Review: wwx is now weaponless, penniless, golden core-less, and alone

Except jk, he’s actually surrounded by wen flunkies, so not alone! Worse than alone!!

And we all know our beloved wwx has the survival instincts of a lemming so instead of you know, keeping his mouth shut for once in his life, he decides to mock and insult wen chao and his flunkies.

WC decides to take wwx on Evil Field Trip Part 2: Burial Mounds Edition and has wen zhuliu freaking drop-kick wwx into the cursed place

Oh, hello, Bad CGI, nice to see you again!

And here we have the Return of the Screams bc apparently wwx decided to keep the Screaming Sword of Resentment in his magic pouch??

Good thing he did, i guess?? Bc the Screams summon up some resentful energy that helps him survive the fall

We cut away a moment here to see our beloved wen sibs and we are sad bc they are locked up MOVING ON

Wwx is all alone in this awful place covered in dead things and lacking sunlight, THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF OUR PRECIOUS, LIVELY, SUNSHINE BOY

It’s terrible but we’re getting a piece of wangxian pie here (a tiny one)

So the Screams are still happening, and our wwx is collapsed on the ground not responding to any of them.

They’re all shouting “wei wuxian, wei wuxian” 

And still our precious sunshine boy lies there limp and exhausted

BUT SUDDENLY

AMIDST ALL THE SHOUTS

We hear a calm,soothing voice call “wei ying”

Wwx finally moves. He sits up and starts looking around for the source of that voice

BECAUSE THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE

THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE GENTLY CALLING “WEI YING” THREE TIMES

THREE!!! TIMES!!!!

And it’s so sad bc for a moment there wwx hears the voice and must think that lwj is there with him, there to rescue him!!

But he isn’t *cries* he’s not there and wwx just looks so lost and scared here *cries HARDER*

Instead of lwj, wwx finds the Screaming Sword of Resentment that legit says to him, “wwx, do you want revenge? Let’s be together.”

And, idk guys, swords that talk to you about revenge don’t seem like, the kind of swords you wanna be touching.

But wwx decides to become besties with it, i guess, and grabs it. 

The look of triumph on his face after he accepts the swords offer is really cool if you ignore how UTTERLY DISTRESSING the whole situation is

AND HERE’S THE SCENE WHERE LWJ MAKES THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE.

YOU THOUGHT THE THING WITH THE ROOFTOP BACK IN "THE ONE WITH THE ICONIC REUNION” WAS COOL?? THIS ONE TOPS IT.

To set the scene: we’re at Qishan where Evil Summer School took place and a bunch of wen flunkies are getting drunk and bragging about their evil deeds bc why not

And then we get a shot of white shoes (boots?? Idk) slowly walking up the steps of the evil staircase

And then the camera gives us a shot at the top of the staircase and we see LWJ clad in all white in a bitchin’ new robe, slowly appear into view, rising a little more with each step he takes up the stairs and the wind is providing ambiance by swishing elegantly through his hair

As that is happening, we see the blue flash of power that shows up whenever lwj uses his guqin and it knocks the wen flunkies down on their backs BC FUCK YOU WEN FLUNKIES

We go back to lwj, and get a closer look at his face. His face is blank and hard as a stone, and he keeps going at this unhurried, unbothered pace

Bc he knows

HE KNOWS

He’s gonna get what he wants here and now, one way or another. And what he wants is information about wei ying.

CHILLS, GUYS, THIS SCENE GIVES ME CHILLS IN THE BEST WAY

THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE IN THE SHOW

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

So after he guqin’s the wen flunkies down (and they start cowering) he towers over them all imperiously

Lwj: Kneel

(so commanding, his tone. I know at least some of you guys Felt Things at that)

(guys, I've been on ao3, I'VE SEEN YOUR TAGS, don’t try to deny it, you kinky bastards)

(It's okay, this is a no judgement zone, and lwj is looking hella sharp in his new outfit, I get it)

Lwj: where is wei ying

(so unyielding, so demanding, but not once does he raise his voice, what a BAMF)

The wen flunkie that lwj had been kinda choking with guqin magic raises his hand (lol, this isn’t a classroom pal)

Lwj: Speak.

And the wen flunkie informs him (and JC, who showed up at some point but whatev) that they dumped WWX in the Burial Mounds

Lwj, our precious darling lwj, we know he doesn’t have the most expressive of faces, right? But the way his face tilts ever so slightly downwards at the news, you can tell, you can tell, that he was hit with that sick, cold, sinking feeling in the stomach

Kneel. Where is Wei Ying. Speak. THAT'S ALL HE SAID IN THE WHOLE SCENE AND YET HE HAD EVERYONE CAPTIVATED (and Thirsty, in some cases, it's all good, it's all good)

After all that awesome, we are forced to watch wc and jj have a domestic spat of some sort AS IF WE’RE SUPPOSED TO CARE. WE’RE GONNA IGNORE IT BC FUCK THOSE GUYS

We’re back at Evil Summer School in Qishan, and we’ve got JC and LWJ doing that thing where they stare manfully at the mid-distance and talk about vaguely Feelings-related Stuff

WuJi starts playing in the background as JC tells LWJ about how WWX was supposed to meet up with him at Yiling and never showed up; i thought he went after you, he says, but maybe the wens really did dump him in the burial mounds

And the music freaking crescendos here bc some lan disciples show up with everyone’s swords but most importantly THEY HAVE SUIBIAN which they bring to lwj directly

Makes you wonder, huh. Why did they bring suibian to lwj when jc, wwx’s brother, was right there??

PROBS BC THE LAN DISCIPLES HAVE BEEN WITH LWJ AND JC THE WHOLE TIME AND REALIZED THAT LWJ IS IN LOVE WITH WWX BC WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE SEARCHING SO OBSESSIVELY

LWJ’s eyes widen just a fraction the minute he sees suibian

HIS SOULMATE’S SWORD

IT’S ALL HE HAS LEFT OF WEI YING RIGHT NOW

JUST LIKE BEFORE WHEN ALL HE HAD LEFT OF HIS HOME WAS BICHEN

STOP LEAVING LWJ WITH JUST SWORDS, LET HIM HAVE HIS LOVED ONES!!!

And god the way he GRIPS it with YEARNING.

All of his motions are still very sedate, but just the microexpressions we’re getting from him change the tone of the movements

Wang yibo - guys, idk much about any of the actors but this guy does a great job. Like, how does he make such emotional expressions when his actual face hardly moves??? WITCHCRAFT, I TELL YOU, WITCHCRAFT

Lwj tries to unsheathe the sword but here we find the Suibian has sealed itself (bc he’s a loyal sword; he aint cheating on his master with no one!)

Lwj: wei ying, where are you

Such quality Lwj Yearning™

And then we get interrupted by Plot Things again, ugh

Blah blah we’re at qinghe blah blah we meet jzx's asshole cousin and hate him blah blah

Lwj and JC show up at qinghe and interrupt jzx’s Disaster Het shenanigans (thank god)

Jiang sibs have a reunion while jzx and lwj stand awkwardly at the side

Lwj sees that display of Emotion and is like, nope, that is Too Much, i’m gonna distract myself by staring at this disembodied head hanging at the entrance

(he’s already in emotional turmoil bc his soulmate is missing, he cannot handle anything more than that!!)

Idk why by jzx decides to join him

Jzx: hey, that’s wwx’s sword! Did you…

Lwj: *Death Grips bichen AND suibian with Extra Yearning™*  

Lwj: evil summer school has been burned

SUBTLE CHANGE OF TOPIC THERE, LWJ

Also, c’mon jzx, LWJ IS NOT HERE TO TALK ABOUT OR ACKNOWLEDGE ANY MORE FEELINGS RIGHT NOW OKAY

Jzx goes off to talk about something unimportant and lwj is like phew, dodged a bullet there

Except, JUST KIDDING

Jzx: soooo, where’s wwx? I need to return his sister to him

Lwj: *stoically silent*

Lwj: *refuses to look at jzx*

Lwj: *gives off major I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT vibes*

Jzx: *doesn’t take a hint*

Jzx: yeah, so where is he??

READ THE ROOM, JZX

Idiots, we’re surrounded by emotionally incompetent idiots

Lwj doesn’t react until he hears jyl softly gasp when jc updates her and even then, it’s only to just briefly glance in her general direction

OUR BOY IS HURTING, POOR LWJ

And now we’re back to Plot Things

Blah blah battle strategy blah blah nmj looks imposing blah blah baxia does a thing blah blah

Jzx: yeah, so we’re doing great, we just gotta take back gusu and yiling now

Lwj: I volunteer AS TRIBUTE for the mission in Yiling

Jc: dude, SAME, plz red blade master, let us go there

Nmj: uh, idk guys, that’s right next to the wen’s stronghold…

Lwj; red blade master…

Nmj: yeah, okay, fine

Wow, capitulated pretty easily there, pal. Thought you were supposed to be a tough guy, nmj…

We get a jiang sib moment

With soup, ofc

Ooooh, now we get to watch jj have a mental break AND IT’S GLORIOUS

Disembodied eyeballs!! How fun!

And that’s the end of that episode!!

Oh god, i’m so glad we finally got some wangxiantics. Like, not a lot of them, and they didn’t share screentime BUT THEY WERE STILL VERY EMOTIONAL WANGXIANTICS

THEY MISS EACH OTHER SO MUCH *SOBS*

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

[crowsent]

Whumptober 2019 Shackled

Yusuke Kitagawa, Persona 5, Shackled

CW: child abuse, minuscule gore (barely there but just in case), Madarame’s existence, Madarame’s shitty parenting

=

Madarame had been everywhere. There were statues of him, paintings of him, photographs taped to every wall. Madarame’s voice echoed somewhere high above in the shrine. The obsessive desire to please and venerate permeating the very air until Joker suffocated in it.

It had been an accident, discovering that Madarame’s pupil, Yusuke Kitagawa, had a Palace. It had only been at Ann’s insistence that they even bothered to explore at all. They were still looking for potential targets for the Phantom Thieves’ next heist and maybe, Kitagawa might be their key there. Sheer coincidence and fate’s guiding hand had led them here.

But Kitagawa’s Palace, his Shrine, was far more unnerving than anything Joker had seen in Kamoshida’s Palace.

Some part of Joker still refused to believe that a run-down shack could turn into something like this.

The run-down shack had transformed into a traditional Japanese temple with pointed spires and multiple floors. A torii gate bound with shimenawa served as the entrance to a well-lit foyer. Like any other shrine in the real world, there was an aura of calm in the air, of serenity. Distantly, Akira heard the soft click of a tsuzumi somewhere, along with gentle strums of a shamisen and the rhythmic beat of a wadaiko.

Kitagawa’s Palace was breathtaking.

And terrifying.

The walls of the shrine were vividly painted with moving images. Kanou-style tigers and cranes stalked along the walls. Heavy, ink-lined tides swept over everything and replaced the walls with simplistic landscapes only to have that in turn shift into gorgeous ukiyo-e portraits.

But, Joker noticed, the scenic paintings on the shrine walls showed something more sinister. The paint would depict monsters that writhed in screamed, hellfire ravaging entire forests, demons and ghosts and terrifying pictures of death and ruin. Then it would return to normal. As if the horrors Joker noticed were nothing more than passing thoughts. An insignificant pebble thrown into a tumultuous river, carried by the rapids for a time before sinking to the bottom.

What could Kitagawa’s cognition be like, to have his subconscious depict such a peaceful, colourful place plagued by such disturbing imagery?

Panther shivered, stepping in between Skull and Joker. “Do those pictures move!? Ugh. They’re so creepy.”

A breeze blew in from nowhere, rustling the trees and making Panther hug herself for comfort. The wind was cold. Biting. Frigid. Skull grumbled. “This dude is seriously effed in the head. I mean. This entire Palace is just.” He gestured angrily to the walls of the temple, now displaying an angry demon ripping apart the arms and legs of a human. It changed to show a lotus flower floating on a pond. “What kind of person even is this Kitagawa guy?”

Joker steeled himself and stepped forward. “We’ll never know if we don’t take a look around.”

“Right!” Mona chimed in. “Let’s get going.”

And now that they had traversed the inside of the Palace and reached the final room all the way at the top, Joker could confidently say that he absolutely detested every inch of this place. It was beautiful, but wrought with distortions so twisted it was difficult navigating up the shrine at all.

After every level, Madarame’s voice would ring out, harsher than the frigid winds they had to face, sharper than any blade they could ever find.

This isn’t good enough. See these brush strokes? Pathetic. Do it again and do it right, or you’ll face the consequences.

What did I tell you!? This piece is fucking garbage! I can’t show this at the exhibition! Is this how you’ll repay after all these years? You’re worth less than nothing.

You did a fine job Yusuke. This is good enough for this month’s exhibition. I’ll be expecting a new piece from you soon.

On.

And on.

And on.

Joker can’t take any more.

The topmost floor, wrought with a blizzard so cold Panther had to walk sandwiched between Skull and Joker, was nothing compared to Madarame’s voice.

Useless.

Again!

Can’t do anything right.

What do I even keep you here for?

Smile for the cameras, Yusuke. You’re my star pupil. What will people think of me if you look like death? Smile. Smile goddammit.

After Kitagawa, Joker was going to change Madarame’s heart or die trying. Just hearing those words from a man Kitagawa clearly admired made Akira’s blood boil.

“Last door.” Joker looked at his companions. Panther beside him, Skull on her other side, Mona tucked in Joker’s collar where the cold wind would hit him less. All three of them nodded. Joker smiled thinly though his lips felt as though they would fall off.

“Let’s go in.”

The doors to the final room, despite their size, gave way easily. The four of them pushed their way inside and with a thunderous roar, the doors slammed shut. The icy wind howled outside. The inside of the last room, the very heart of the shrine, was deceptively warm. Mona crawled out from Joker’s collar to perch at his shoulder.

“Is that a Shadow?”

At the centre of the square room, was a small Shadow, the size of a human. It wore a sheet white kimono, stained with blood. It knelt facing the door with thick golden manacles around its wrists, shackled to the floor. Both of its legs were nailed to the floor by its ankles. Behind it towered a giant golden statue of Madarame with his hand outstretched.

A ring on Madarame’s right hand connected to the Shadow in the centre of the room. To a collar around its neck, tight enough that the Shadow’s face turned almost as blue as its hair.

“Oh my God,” Panther gasped. She gripped onto Joker and Skull’s arms, trembling. Skull radiated anger. Mona muttered silent prayers for Kitagawa in the real life. Joker just stood frozen.

Kitagawa’s Shadow was literally trapped in the shrine. Even if he tore free of the stake pinning his bloody ankles to the floor, even if he ripped the manacles off, he would forever be trapped in the shrine. Collared to Madarame like a dog.

“This is how Kitagawa views himself. His distorted heart thinks of the shack as a Shrine to Madarame.” Mona’s voice was sad. “Kitagawa must think that would live and die as nothing more than a glorified pet.”

Sprouting from Shadow Kitagawa’s back were nine bushy fox tails, far too large for his frail, gaunt body to support. Kitagawa had hunched over from the weight of the nine tails with inked tips. The tails painted portrait after portrait, landscape after landscape, and meekly laid them at the feet of Madarame’s statue.

It took an eternity for the Shadow to look up against the weight of its own tails. Its hair was strikingly blue, and snow-white fox ears twitched above its head. It had no eyes. The sockets where the eyes should have been were empty pools of nothingness crying a constant stream of tears. Or blood. Or ink. Joker didn’t fucking know.

And Shadow Kitagawa looked at them with a tormented expression. Haunted by the collar choking the life out of it, by the stakes that had ripped through its very bones, by the manacles keeping it bound to the Shrine, but the tails that forced it to paint and paint and paint.

“Thieves.” The Shadow spoke slowly, with a croaking voice. It tilted its head this way and that, trying in vain to see the intruders who have desecrated the Shrine. Obviously, it couldn’t see the four of them, and hung its head instead. “Why have you come into this Shrine? This Shrine for the Great Artist Madarame, who had given a lowly being such as myself shelter. Why have you come to steal from such a benevolent man?”

Panther gritted her teeth, fists clenching into a tight ball. “Benevolent? Madarame!? Don’t be ridiculous!” Smoke puffed out from Panther’s lips, a testament to her anger. “He’s using you! Don’t you see Kitagawa-kun? You and all the artists who studied under Madarame are being used for his own selfish gain!”

“The only thing I see is Lord Madarame’s generosity.” The Shadow grasped desperately for air. The collar was made with iron spikes, Joker realised belatedly. The sharp ends dug into Kitagawa’s skin, raining rivulets of blood down his neck, onto his already ruined kimono. “I am nothing without his guidance. All the artists who studied under him were happy to give their souls in his service. We are honoured to be used.”

“Why are you still defending him!?” Skull screamed. “He’s hurt so many people. Countless artists whose hopes and dreams were broken by his selfishness!” Skull’s leg trembled. Panther switched places with him so he could lean on Joker as he fought to remain standing. “Madarame has driven a student to suicide and if you don’t open your goddamn eyes to the effing truth, then you’re going to let countless others be driven to the same fate!”

“LIES!”

The Shadow screamed. It echoed in the walls, reverberated in Joker’s very bones, rattled the whole building. But Kitagawa’s Shadow was not angry. It did not attack. Rather, it jerked its hands up as far as they could go to cover its ears which had folded down. There were red welts around its wrists where the manacles cut into its skin. Kitagawa’s tails were in a frenzy, painting frantic lines everywhere, turning the walls into a discordance of colours and shapes.

“Lord Madarame would never. He’s a good man. He would never!”

It was afraid. It was afraid of facing the truth.

“You knew, didn’t you?” It’s eyes, if it had any, would have been trained on Joker as it snarled viciously. Instead, all Joker saw was hollow emptiness, and a Shadow that trembled at the mere possibility of hearing the truth. “You knew what Madarame was doing all along. But you ignored it.” The Shadows tails, all nine of them curled over its body, as though that could protect it from Joker’s words. From the truth. “Why did you hide from the truth Yusuke?”

Quietly, so faint that it couldn’t have been more than a soft whimper, the Shadow said, “Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Oh, Kitagawa-kun.”

“Dude.”

“Kitagawa…”

“Where else am I supposed to go!?” The Shadow’s voice caused the walls to crack. Ink poured out, soaking the Shadow’s tails into a murky black. “Sensei is all that I have. My only tie to a world that has no place for me. Where will I be, if not by his side?”

Blood squirted from Kitagawa’s wrists, his neck, his ankles, and the Shadow howled in pain, in anger in desperation. A prisoner of his own mind.

“I am shackled.” As if to emphasise, the Shadow tried to move. Tried to free itself. The stake which had nailed its legs to the floor, and the cuffs that kept it from moving echoed with a metallic clink. “There is no hope for me outside of this place. This temple. This shrine to Sensei’s ambition, to his desire, is the only place where I can exist.”

It sounded desolate. Like the howls of a hapless fox, ensnared in a trap. Like a fox which had tried to gnaw its way out and failed, only to resign itself to fate.

If Kitagawa accepted the fact that his teacher, his mentor, the man he looked up to as his father, was nothing but a liar and a cheat, it would shatter the way he viewed the world. Everything would change. Kitagawa would have to live with the fact that he was complacent, meekly obeying everything Madarame ordered and turned a blind eye as one of Madarame’s students took their own life.

“I would leave if I could.”

The statue of Madarame, the one which had sat silently as Kitagawa screamed his throat hoarse, yanked its hand back.

The Shadow yelped, wheezing, pulled in two different directions. It’s neck was blood red now, and the manacles looked ready to cut both its hands off. Kitagawa’s tailed flailed wildly.

Madarame’s statue stretched its hand out again and the Shadow collapsed as low as its collar allowed it to. It trembled and hefted its burdensome tails once more to paint.

“Leave, profaner,” said the Shadow. “Leave me to my fate.”

The doors swung open once again, and a glacial wind tore into the room. The Shadow’s kimono did nothing to protect it from the cold and it trembled, muscles seizing, lips turning even bluer.

“I can’t believe this.” Panther quivered as she stepped outside along with the others. “We have to send a calling card. We have to. We can’t just let this happen.” Joker nodded.

They were going to save Yusuke Kitagawa, even if he did not want to be saved. Akira will fucking drag him kicking and screaming into the light if he had to.

----

A letter came.

Oddly enough, it wasn’t for Sensei. Rather, addressed to Yusuke himself. It was fortuitous that Sensei wasn’t home to see it.

Yusuke sat in the corner of the atelier like he often did as a child and opened the envelope.

Sir Yusuke Kitagawa,

You who have not committed any atrocities in life but have suffered a fate to be doomed forever into the servitude of an unjust man, have turned away from the truth. You have blinded yourself to the verity of the world, and have chosen to shroud yourself in a Shrine of lies. We have decided to uncover that which you have chosen to hide, and expose the truth to your very eyes. We will no longer allow you to blind yourself to the truth that lies before you. We will take your distorted heart without fail.

From, The Phantom Thieves Of Hearts

“What the hell is this?” Yusuke crumpled the letter into nothing more than a paper ball. He chucked it into a bin along with all his other failed ideas. It’s nothing more than a prank. Sensei won’t see it. Sensei can’t see it. Yusuke’s fine. It’s fine.

Everything’s going to be fine as long as he finishes his next piece.

Yusuke’s not going to pay attention to such nonsense. Madarame-sensei would never do any of the vile things he’s been accused of.

Surely not.

He would never.

…

At the highest floor of the Palace Shrine, a Shadow cried out with a broken voice. “Free me.”

“Free me.”

I would leave if I could.

I want to leave.

Let me leave.

Free me.

Please.

#whumptober 2019 #whumptober2019 #persona #persona 5 #p5 #yusuke kitagawa #no.9

[ed-edward-blackbeard]

WIP Wednesday

Okay, Imma give you bits from three wips.  Cause those are my big three projects right now, besides some RL stuff.  

First bit, Resolution, Stranger Things, Spoilers for Stranger Things 3.  (aka, the fic in which I pretend Billy isn’t dead and Hopper didn’t get taken by the Russkies)

“Morning, William.”

“Billy.”

“Hey, that’s great!  That’s new, when did you remember that?”  Owens sat down across the table from the young man.  His hair was buzzed close to the scalp, and he was wearing loose scrub pants and a hospital top.  Otherwise, he looked very much like the picture in the wallet that Owens was just passing over.  “This belongs to you.”

“This morning, when I woke up.”  The voice was flat, almost a monotone, except for the lilt at the end of certain words.  He took the wallet as it was passed over to him, and pulled out the license to inspect the picture.  “This is me?”  He looked at the distorted reflection of himself in the metallic tabletop and then back to the license.  “This is me.”

“Yes, it is.”  Owens made notes in the file that William--excuse him, Billy--had remembered his own name that morning. “Have you remembered anything else?”

“Some other names,” he answered.  “Susan.  Max.  Steve.  Lucas.”  A pause.  “Eleven.”  

“Do you remember who those names belong to?”  Owens started fiddling with a stack of photos that were in the folder with his notes.  

“No.  I mean, I know Susan is a girl, but no.”  Billy closed the wallet, and put it down on the table between him and Owens.  “Who are they?”

Owens laid out ten photographs on the table.  “How about you tell me.  Do any of them look familiar?”

Billy reached out and touched some of the photographs.  Then he picked one up.  “Yeah.  This one.  I think it’s Max.”  

Owens took the photograph.  A redheaded girl on a skateboard was zooming towards the camera, laughing.  “Yes, that is Max.  Do you remember who Max is?”

Billy reached over and yanked the photograph out of Owens’ hands.  “Somebody… I have to look after, I think.”  He stared down at her, at the skateboard mended with duct tape, and knew there was more, if he could just reach past his brain to find it.  “I don’t know.”  

“That’s okay, Billy.  You recognize anyone else?”  Owens rearranged the photographs to close up the missing space where Max’s photo had rested.  

Billy touched each photograph this time, sliding his fingertips over each photo before settling on two.  “This.  I think this is Susan.”  

Owens looked down, and nodded.  Yes, that was Susan Hargrove, who he’d come to know was Billy’s stepmother, and Max’s real mother.  “Yes, that’s Susan.  You remember who she is?”

He tilted his head to the side, and he groaned softly.  A memory returned with a vicious, spiking pain through his eardrum.  “Mother.  Step.  Step mother.  Neill said… Mother’s Day.  Had to be nice.”  He gritted his teeth and slammed his hand flat against the tabletop.

It dented almost eight inches deep, and when he looked up, there was a trickle of blood flowing out of his nose.

---

Second bit, from Domestic Chickens, an Ineffable Husbands Bingo story

It began simply, with a gift.

Newt had gotten the idea that Anathema wanted to live on a farm.  (In fact, what she had said was, “There should be more farm-direct options for people in Tadfield.”  What Newt had heard was, “I’d like a farm.”)  So he’d gone out and bought eighteen tiny yellow chicks, a do-it-herself incubator, and blueprints for a henhouse.  

Two weeks later, Anathema showed up in South Downs with a basket of peeping chicks and a copy of the henhouse blueprints.  “Here, take this, and… don’t let Crowley near these.”  After shoving both basket and plans at a very startled angel, Anathema hurried back to her bicycle and quickly pedaled away.

Leaving Aziraphale with a basket of nine baby chickens and no idea what to do with them.

---

“Oi!  You leave Delilah alone this instant!”  Crowley’s foot kicked out at Oscar.  “She’s already told you, she’s not in the mood.  Go bugger Jezebel or something.”  Cooing softly at the young hen, Crowley picked her up and petted her.  “Daddy will protect you.”  

“At least Freddie is being a good boy.”  

“Don’t know why we didn’t fry Oscar up for dinner last week,” Crowley grumbled.  They’d ended up with seven girls and two boys; Jezebel, Delilah, Salome, Mags (for Magdalene), Mary, Martha, and Rose.  The boys were Oscar and Freddie, after Oscar Wilde and Freddie Mercury.  Aziraphale had allowed Crowley to name one of the roosters and three of the hens.

Lastly, In Extremis, Bello, also Ineffable Husbands, but this is one in which Crowley dies and Aziraphale loses his shit.

Four hours later, they came for the shop.  

Crowley and Aziraphale were locked down inside the shop.  Aziraphale’s wings were fully unfurled, his coat had been miracled clean and tucked away for safety.  A sword--not the one he had been given by God, but one he’d acquired over the millennia--was in his hand, and his eye was trained on the front door.  

Crowley’s eyes were trained on the back.  Black wings had risen far into the air, and his eyes burned a golden yellow.  His fingers were tipped with claws, and snake-like fangs descended far past his jaw.  In his claws was clutched his old angelic sword, and a vile green venom dripped from the blade.  

There were no thoughts of napping now, no playful flirting banter. Before the Ritz, they could indulge. Afterwards, they were soldiers on the alert.  

In the end, the attack came from above.  The glass of the oculus skylight was broken, and a fireball exploded on the carpet.  

Crowley dropped his sword and pushed Aziraphale out of the way.  “Infernal flames,” he shouted.  There was no time to switch; Crowley simply willed Aziraphale into the back room and the angel vanished.  

Reappeared in the next second, but he was too late.  

Through the broken skylight, demons dropped in like skydivers.  They landed on either side of Crowley, disarming him at the cost of one of their hands.  Crowley’s snake-head spat the hand out of his mouth, but it was too late.  

A fire hose broke through the front door, and Aziraphale knew what it was before he could even scream “Crowley, no!”

The blast of holy water caught all three demons square on.  There was a grotesque scream of three voices tangling together in a sudden instant of torment, and a great hissing as ichor and bile splashed back from the hose spray.  Aziraphale was doused by holy water, which extinguished most of the flames, and in the smoke, he could see a charred, bubbling pit of demonic remains.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, and picked up the demon’s sword.  In angelic hands, the green venom turned to holy fire, and in a heartbeat, he shed the human guise he’d worn for six thousand years.  

A golden crown sat upon his head, and in the hand not holding the flaming sword, a golden sceptre appeared.  His wings grew and multiplied until there were three sets, each one reaching higher than the last.  His clothing fell alway to be replaced by silver armor with bronze epaulets, and a shimmering chest plate that shone resplendent in the dying fires of the bookshop’s remains.  

The bookshop shattered around Aziraphale’s unencumbered form.  To the masses watching, it would simply look as if the shop had exploded, but to the other Heavenly bodies lurking around the shop, they saw a Colossus rise out of the broken building to tower over the London skyline

#wip wednesday #my fic

[of-reaping]

Forbidden Fruit || Discord

Summary: Rose and Jax share their first kiss and learn more about one another. Trigger warnings: N/A Written with: @ofrosewilsons

Rose: Robin has asked her to check outside the tower. There's an intruder, the same one for a couple of days now.  This dude was relentless. Not that Rose minded much, she actually thought he was pretty sexy-- an opinion she kept to herself. They had fought against one another before, the Red Reaper pulling none of his punches on her and Rose was becoming aware of it.  "What are you doing here?" She pulled her katana from her sleeve. "You will be taken in if you take a step closer."

Jax: He was a little bored. He had a pretty lowkey night, everything just seemed too easy and there was no one there to try to stop him. The Titans hadn't showed up like they did the last few times, so he decided to go to them again. In all honesty, he just wanted to see that beautiful white haired girl. The one that let him go the first time they met, the one that understood him. He couldn't help but smirk, a little like the Cheshire Cat. Breathing in some smoke from his lit cigarette. "I missed you." He teased, looking her over. "Taken in?" He purred. "Ooh, sounds fun."

Rose: Rose rolled her eyes and blew a strand of her hair away from her face. Even if she wanted to take this guy in, she couldn't. She liked him too much. Besides, what's the harm? Did Robin really know who's out there.? "Away from the cameras." She whispered and pointed up with her katana. She then gestured towards the pasture and pointed her sword at him. "Follow me, intruder." She flashed him a smirk so he'd at least know she was...kind of kidding? The entire thing was confusing anyway. "I know you're pretty powerful an all...." She began as they walked away from the cameras. "But those Titans won't give up." She withdrew her sword only slightly. "Go home, Smokey"

Jax: Jax glanced up to the cameras she was referring to. Keeping the location of them in mind for the next time he visited. He gave her a smile, there she was helping him again. He wondered if she had the same soft spot for him that he was developing for her. He lifted his hands, like a criminal who was being arrested by the police. "Alright, alright." He said, the smile never leaving his cheeks. "I'll follow you." He walked with her to where she was pointing to. Not too worried about the sword she was wielding. The last couple of fights they had, the only thing she ever did with it was nick him on the arm. She clearly wasn't looking to hurt him. Not with the way she was smiling at him. He dropped the cigarette and put it out with his foot. "They can try all they like, you know they won't capture me." He shook his head. "Make me."

Rose: Once they were far away from Robin's view,  she stopped to face him completely. Rose wasn't wearing her Ravager mask but this guy had seen her without it before. She often found herself wanting to know what he looked like beneath his but she knew it was a thought she had to put away. It would be too real then and probably dangerous for the two of them. Kinda like when you name your goldfish and become attached.  Rose didn't become attached to people. No. He'd remain Smokey to her. "Oh don't pull that. You know that I can stop you." Rose gently pointed the sword at him, grazing his chest with the very edge. No nics. Just metal against his costume. "You think you're cute, huh?"

Jax: She pointed the sword against his chest and he daringly reached forward and gently touched the smooth side of the metal with his gloved fingertips. "I'm not entirely sure you can, Darlin'. But it'd be a real pleasure to see you try." If she really wanted to, Reaper was sure that the woman standing before him really could stop him. He wouldn't be able to create smoke in her lungs, he liked her a little too much and Jax never killed heroes. He didn't kill good people. He smiled a large, bright white smile and before taking moving his hand to nudge the sword off of him. Taking a daring step towards her. "Oh, I know I'm cute. It's almost a disservice hiding how truly cute I am from you. When you're willing to show yourself to me. You have the most beautiful eyes by the way. Hazel. They really suit you."

Rose: Rose arched a brow, watching the Red Reaper. Why was he so damn attractive to her?  And then he called her "Darlin'" and while that would have annoyed her if it were anyone else, she found herself even more attracted to him.  "Is that right?" She liked a good challenge. Even if it meant going against someone she was getting more and more curious about. The Titans would kill her if they knew about her being so close to him and not turning him in. They already doubted her being Slade's daughter and all. She lowered her sword when he pushed it away, choosing not to move when he stepped towards her and smirked as her gaze traveled over him. Boy, was she curious about what was under that mask and him being so damn cheeky didn't help either. "You caught me off guard. I wear my mask every time I'm in battle." But of course, she knew this wasn't a fight. She had even primped a bit, styled her hair, curled her lashes. It was so frivolous and unlike Rose. All for a boy. The only guy she'd ever try for was Roy and they had decided they were better off as friends anyway. "Thanks." She took another step towards him, closing only some of the gap between them, a mischievous grin forming on her face. "Charming..." Her fingertips grazed over the side of his arm as her eyes flickered up to him and in one quick movement, she flipped him down to the ground, straddling him with a grin. "How do I know you're not just being charming to get to the Titans?"

Jax: She was quick, quick enough to actually caught Reaper a little off guard as she took in down to the ground. He didn't struggle against her or quick her off like he would have anyone else. If she really wanted to, Raveger could hurt or kill him and he probably wouldn't react quick enough to stop her. It was a very strange situation that he almost never found himself in. He didn't normally allow someone to pin him or get on top of him but damn. She was hot and the stupid part of him trusted her, because she let him go all those other times and she called him charming. Jax couldn't help but smirk as she was straddling him. "Taking things a little fast now are we, Raveger?" He purred out. Jax bellowed out a laugh at her question and shook his head. "I've come here for you." He answered. "I don't care about them, I'm not going to kill the Titans. Not unless I really have to. You understand, don't you?" He propped himself up a little bit so his face could be closer. "Tell me you're not the least bit curious about me. Tell me you don't like me, and I'll go." He said, brushing his fingers against her hair. "I'll stop showin' up. If that's what you want."

Rose: Was he...poking fun at her? She tilted her head, dropping her sword to the side--something she never did. Rose was very cautious when dealing with any sort of opponent but he  wasn't the enemy here, was he? He had explained to her what his purpose was and she believed in his motives. It's what she'd do if not for Dick's teachings. "We're on a timeline?" She quipped back as if this were the most normal thing. As he pushed himself up slightly, she gripped a few blades of grass, searching for any sort of anchor because Rose Wilson was sinking and she was trying hard not to. "Killing them? Not under any circumstance, ok?" She knew she was speaking to him as an equal because in her eyes, The Red Reaper had shown her he deserved as much. She chewed the side of her lip as he brushed her fingers against her hair. How could she ever resist that? "No. Don't...I like when you visit." She admitted and then cleared her throat. "I'm Rose. Rose Wilson. You can call me that. And not Ravager. besides, my father will tell you my brother makes a better one..."

Jax: Jax chuckled when she tried to say they were on a timeline. He guessed they were, if she was gone for too long then the Titans might come looking for her and that was the last thing they needed right now. Everytime they arrived they tried to fight him. They didn't listen to him, or get him. But she did. He drew an "X" on his chest when she asked him never to kill the titans. "Never, I swear on my life. I'll never go after theirs." He promised her, and she could trust that. Jax had no interest in killing heroes. It would only make him a bigger target if he did and he wanted to keep doing his good work. He liked getting justice for the people who needed it. He watched her bite her lip and he couldn't help but lick his own. He could bet hers would be soft and warm. Jax tried not to think about it too much. He was trying to keep himself under control. His smile grew larger when she admitted it that she liked it when he visited. "Alright. I'll keep dropping by then." He told her softly. "Rose?" He said her name, loving the sound of it. "I highly doubt he's better than you. You were able to take me down afterall." He said before lowering his hood for her and reaching up to his mask. Considering for just a moment longer before removing it from his face. "If you want, you can call me Jax." He said, "But I'll still respond to Smokey." He smirked at the nickname she gave him.

Rose: Rose allowed herself to ease up for a little. It was the first time in a very long time that she did that. Her life had been her running from one place to another since Slade found her. One parental figured after another with Wintergreen and Oswald and anyone that would take her. She'd built plenty of walls because of it and now she was letting them fall. All that hard work and it took a boy to change it all.  Was it all in vain?  She smiled at the X he drew on his chest, saddened by the fact that maybe they'd never believe that promise but that's okay because she always would.  She remained in her spot, tracing over the imaginary X he had just traced on his own and her smile widened at his words.  "It's dangerous. You'll have to tell me before you come by. Robin can never find out. Or Cyborg or well, anyone." She laughed and shook her head. Grant would always be better but that's okay. She refused to do her father's bidding. She watched him lower his hood and she almost gasped softly, her heart caught in her own throat. She'd finally see what he looked like. "Jax...I really love that." She reached to place her hand over his, finger curled over his and over his mask. "Can...I?"

Jax: He couldn't help but smile when he felt her finger follow along the spot where he made an 'X' on his chest. It was almost like she was making him keep that promise by being far too cute about it. He let out a sigh, the smile still glued to his face. He let out a little laugh when she told him it was dangerous. "I love danger. Why do you think I do what I do?" He cocked his head at her. "Besides, Rose. How can I warn you when I don't have your phone number?" He asked, hoping that she would give it to him. He wanted to know more about her and if they could communicate through the phone it would just make everything a hell of a lot easier. Jax nodded. "No one needs to find out about my little visits." He told her, "I'll be quiet." He felt her hand on his and gave her a look. A little confused by what she was doing. Did she not want to see his face? It was quickly revealed to him what she wanted and he withdrew his hand, leaving hers there. "By all means." Jackson whispered.

Rose: "I love danger." She mimicked teasingly. "But danger would get you hurt and  I enjoy you too much for that. Even if I like it too, Jax." She loved saying his name finding early on that she'd want to say it as many times as possible. "Alright. I'll give you my number." She smiled thinking about having someone to text every night or fall asleep with on the phone. It seemed like such a bohemian, far away dream considering she wasn't like Cass who obsessed over Tim or like Dick and Kori. She wasn't...right? Who was she kidding? She was thrilled with the idea. "Okay. Good." She nodded at his whisper, her heart beating fast when he withdrew his hand and gingerly, she removed his mask, pulling it down and away from his face, swallowing hard at the reveal. Weeks of their back and forth, his voice often haunting her dreams and sparking the curiosity in her. It all lead to this and she moved her hand to cup his face, thumb grazing over his cheeks and a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "hey..."

Jax: He laughed when she mimicked him, "Is that what I sound like to you?" He teased her back, "Oh, you enjoy me do you?" Jax let out a gentle laugh, he loved the way his name sounded on her lips. This all felt more personal now that she was calling him by his real name. He was content to just sit there with her placed firmly in his lap. Allowing her to take off his mask at her own pace. This was the closest they've been yet and he had to admit, he really enjoyed being right there with her. Their faces only inches apart. He smiled to himself, glad that she was going to be giving him her number. It wasn't like Jax hadn't gotten a number from someone he liked before but this felt different. Everything about her felt different from every other person he had been with. She finally removed his mask and he smiled up at her. She cupped his face and he felt a bit of warmth all throughout him. He didn't normally feel so... heated. "Hi." Jax replied with a small laugh, "I hope you like what you see."

Rose: Rose held up two fingers close together and chuckled. "A little", she loved this banter, glad that it was so easy to talk to him. Not because she wanted to like him but because she already had realized that she did. Every time he was a topic, Rose would find a way to throw them off and sure she knew that it wasn't good to lie to her team but she wasn't about to get him turned in. "I do. I have for a while." She confessed, throwing caution to the wind and slightly concerned over what it would mean for her. At times, it had been proven in her past that revealing too much when it came to feelings, would only destroy her. But he wasn't here to hurt her. She already knew as much. His laugh was almost bashful and it filled her with glee thinking that perhaps she made him feel the same he made her feel. "But you knew you were cute..." She smiled and traced his jawline. "Does it matter what I think?" Rose then placed her fingertips over his lips and met his gaze. "I've wanted to know what you look like for weeks..."

Jax: "I'll forgive you for the crude imitation, but only because you're so cute when you try to mock me." He said, watching her as she spoke next, admitting that she did enjoy him. It was clear to him now that they must have shared the same feelings for each other. They were a little like Romeo and Juliet, which did nothing but amuse Jax further. "Hmmn, yes I knew. But it does matter to me what you think of me." He said, "Believe it or not, I have quite a bit of a soft spot for you, Rose." He told her, feeling her tracing his jawline. He stared into her beautiful hazel eyes and smiled back at her. "Oh? Have you?" Jax asked, she touched his lips and he moved his hand to cup her cheek. Moving his face a little closer to her, he was just dying to kiss her now. She was teasing him enough with how she was touching him. "May I?" Jax asked.

Rose: "I'm not cute." She said it in a sing-song voice, not annoyed by his comment. This was Jax--the boy she was sure she wanted to get to know more and hell, if he thought she was cute then that just made her entire night. "I'll mock you everyday of your life, Smokey. That's a promise." She whispered, as if she was already telling him she was looking forward to more moments like this one. She lingered dangerously close, so much so that she could almost taste him. "If it matters...I think you're incredibly sexy." She smirked, nodding in response to his question. "Yes, please."

Jax: "I beg to differ." Jax replied, looking her over again.  "Hmmn, well actually. Maybe you're right. You're a lot more then just cute." He couldn't imagine this night going a better way. Rose had some kind of pull on him that the man just couldn't ignore. "So you'll be with me for every day of my life? I'll hold you to it." He said with a wide grin. Jackson watched her as she leaned in closer, the signs were all pretty clear so he probably didn't even need to ask but he did anyway. He wanted her to feel comfortable around him. He chuckled, "I'm glad you think so because I am very attracted to you as well. You're absolutely stunning." He smiled at her answer before leaning in and placing a forceful kiss on her lips.

Rose: God, if he looked at her like that every single time she was with him, she was in trouble and truthfully so was he. "Oh yeah?" Rose wondered  if this is how Cassie felt all those times she'd gush about Tim. To think that Rose every made fun of her for it. She had liked someone before but this was different and all she wanted was to know what was next. "Shh." She whispered and chuckled almost against his mouth. "Thank you, handsome." And then she let him close the space between them, her eyes falling shut when their lips finally met.  Now, Rose wasn't cliche or hopelessly romantic or any of those things but she could appreciate the way this made her feel, the way her heart rate picked up and chills coursed through her body, goosebumps forming at her arms. She couldn't ignore how it felt like second nature as if she was meant to kiss him, always and she pulled him closer as if that were even possible. All those weeks of wanting to know more and she was finally getting a piece of that forbidden fruit and it was so worth it.  She didn't want it to end so she pulled away only a bit to chuckle against his upper lip, leaving a soft kiss there and trailing a few more against the stubble of his jaw. "Finally, huh?" She laughed again and nuzzled his neck, nipping the flesh there gently before returning to kiss his lips. "Worth the wait." she murmured, already wanting nothing more than to do this as much as possible.

Jax: Kissing her might as well have been heaven. He'd been thinking about them together like this probably since they met weeks ago, but to finally feel her there now. Pressed up against him, her lips on his, it felt too good to be true. Jax smiled into the kiss, moving his fingers through her white hair. She felt her pull him closer and he did his best to accommodate her wishes. Though, in truth, Jax was already as close as he could probably get to the young woman. His other hand moved to her back to keep her there in his arms. She pulled away and he let out a small sigh, he could still feel her there against his lip. Her breath on his face. He hummed in agreement, there she was kissing his jaw, keeping close to him. They felt closer then they had ever been and yet it felt so damn right to him. "I've been waiting weeks for this." He said in agreement, he laughed at the feeling of her nipping him and immediately kissed her back once her lips were back against his. Biting her bottom lip gently as payback for the nipping of his skin. "I'd say so."

Rose: Rose sighed contently as his fingers threaded through her hair. It was quickly becoming something she desired, just being here in his arms. She feared that he wouldn't return her feelings, worried that not only were they one-sided but that he would see her as strange for even thinking about him that way. When admitted to having wanting this for weeks, she tilted her head to the side with a sly grin pulling at her lips. "Is that why you came by so often?"  Of course. It was all coming together. The thought of it all made her first and she returned his kiss eagerly, letting out a soft moan when he bit her bottom lip. "I want to know everything about you.  What do you like? What's your favorite color? What music do you listen to?" She smiled. "The Red Reaper is cool and all but I want to know you, Smokey"

Jax: "It might be..." He teased against her lips, keeping close to her. He was distracted by the way it felt to be this close to her. She very suddenly pulled back a little and began rambling and he had to try and pull his thoughts back together to answer the questions. "Oh, Rose." He let out a little laugh, stroking her face. "Tell you what, how about the two of us go on a real date later?" He asked her, looking into her eyes. "Out of costume and everything. Hmm?" He smiled. "I can pick you up in my car a short walk from here, so they don't catch us. How does that sound? Are you busy tomorrow?"

Rose: Rose pressed her lips togeher before letting out a soft laugh. She had been so excited about it all that she didn't realize how much she had rambled. At his question, she nodded with a bright smile and threw her arms around him before kissing his cheek. "That's sounds perfect and I'm most definitely not busy for you,  Smokey." She pulled away to look into his eyes and grinned before pulling her phone from her pocket. "What's your number? I'll text you from mine."  She couldn't believe how incredibly giddy she was but it was the happiest she had been in a long time.  Maybe joining the Titans wasn't such a bad idea after all

#c: rose #chatzy

[gripefroot]

The Death of Agent 28

Everything in Avengers Tower is quiet. 

Snores or slowed breathing from each of the residents fill their rooms. Natasha shifts restlessly; a television plays to a sleeping Clint; Sam’s diffuser puffs and streams; Steve’s clock ticks closer to four a.m.; and Tony’s watch beeps. 

Your eyes pop open. 

It’s a deranged smile that curls your lips; after a moment of listening and hearing nothing to indicate anyone is awake, especially the out-cold Bucky beside you, you throw back the blankets and swing your legs out of bed. The floor is cold under your feet, but you don’t care.  

Silent footsteps to the terrace, and slowly you slide open the glass door. Immediately the distant honks and screeches of New York City below filter in, and Bucky sighs and turns over. Your heart is beating too fast.  

The night air is...nothing. It’s not hot, it’s not cold. It just is. A few steps take you to the metal railing of the balcony, and the lights of the city like a sky full of stars seem to press up against you. Spreading your hands on the top of the railing, you tilt your head to the side - and lift a foot to mount the railing.  

It’s like a dream. The flashing lights below, the inky blackness above; the lazy wind fluttering your pajamas around you. The giddy smile hasn’t left your face, and you spread your arms outward as if to embrace New York. 

And you fall. 

~

Bucky jolts awake. Shivering, he realizes that a dim light has been turned on in his bedroom, turning everything an eerie blue. What had woken him?  

“Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice says calmly. “Agent 28 has left the building.” 

Lifting himself onto an elbow with a groan, Bucky rubs his eyes with the heel of his flesh hand. Then feels the bed beside him as he blinks blearily in confusion - barely warm. He shivers. The door to the terrace is open - what on earth? 

“Did she tell you where she was going?” he mumbles back. 

“No, sir.” Silence. “Would you like me to wake the rest of the team?” 

“What? Why?” 

A flickering protection appears over the bed. Bucky frowns, and then his eyes widen at the camera footage of - of you - standing on the edge of the terrace and - 

What the hell. 

He scrambles out of bed, tangling himself in the covers in his haste - and falling flat on his face. Heart pounding out of his chest, Bucky grasps onto the glass door, taking two steps to the edge of the railing to peer over.  

Nothing. Just cars, far below.  

“Sergeant, if I may offer some information - ” FRIDAY starts to say, but Bucky is barely listening. The rush of his own blood is dampening all sound, as he stares in horror, uncomprehending - was this a new nightmare?  

“She did not fall to the ground, sir. She was caught.” 

It takes Bucky a moment to catch up. “C - caught?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He whirls around, stalking back inside on trembling legs as the scene FRIDAY shows him changes. Your descent - a graceful freefall - but then twenty floors down you...you disappear. The scene flickers.  

“There are traces of energy in the vicinity. It was some sort of jet; I’m sure Mr. Stark could explain it if you wish me to wake him.” 

“K - kidnapped?” Bucky tries. His voice is shaking. His skin is cold everywhere - he must be going into shock. Damn.  

“No one has been in the Tower tonight to coerce her, sir.” 

A deep breath. It doesn’t slow down his heart rate in the slightest. “Wake up Tony, FRIDAY.” 

“Yes, sir.”

~

Head limp in his hands, Bucky keeps his eyes squeezed shut as the arguing goes on around him. It’s barely past dawn, but the last hour or so has been so convoluted with people and questions and theories that it had finally disintegrated into Natasha clocking Clint upside the head.  

“I’m gonna stop giving you my best agents,” Fury is saying to Stark now. They’re at the front of the briefing room, but Bucky doesn’t care - he just can’t turn his ears off. “Romanoff and Barton have up and quit, and now 28 is jumping off the roof of your building? The Avengers are a waste of my agents.” 

“I can’t take credit for all that,” Tony is protesting, anger coloring his tone. “In fact, I told Barton specifically to stay with SHIELD.” 

“Because you didn’t want Fury coming after you,” Clint chimes in.  

“Be that as it may - ” Tony starts to say, but a running and barging through the briefing room door cuts him off. The room is much quieter with this intrusion, but Bucky still doesn’t look up. He can’t. He recognizes Dr. Banner’s rapid breathing, anyway.  

“The strangest thing just happened,” Banner says, gasping for breath. “I was in my lab putting away some samples and remember the blood I drew from 28 after she was shot with that Hydra virus a couple months ago? It was going crazy. So I pulled it out to look under a microscope - oh my gosh, you guys have to look at this.” 

Silence. “Well, throw it up on the screen,” Tony deadpans.  

“Oh - oh, right.” 

A swoosh of air passes Bucky as Dr. Banner moves to the front of the room, and then an elbow digs into his side.  

“Chin up, Barnes,” Natasha hisses. “Maybe Bruce has something. Stay with us.” 

Wrenching his fingers painfully through his hair, Bucky lifts his head with a frown, blinking at the bright lights above. The tension in the room is far more palpable when he’s looking; Steve is stiff by the door, Sam’s smile is absent as he stares at the table, and even Clint, though drinking coffee with two empty mugs by his elbow, looks alert. Bucky drags his eyes to the front.  

A projection flickers, and then Banner fumbles with a device. The picture changes.  

“What the crap?” Sam blurts.  

“Ew,” says Natasha. 

“Ah,” Tony says.  

Bucky squints. Wiggling little things - blood cells? Platelets? It’s been a long time since he took biology. But he knows enough that something’s wrong. Unless everyone nowadays has little silver gears in their blood. 

“After we combatted the virus 28 had in her bloodstream, I checked to make sure there was nothing left, and I swear, at the time her blood was completely normal,” Banner explains. “But something woke up these - what would you call them, Tony?” 

Tony shrugs. “Microbots.” 

“Right. Something must have triggered the microbots to wake up. Rings some alarms, doesn’t it? Where is she? I want to - ” 

“What sort of effects could these microbots have?” Steve interrupts. 

Banner blinks. “Based on what we know of who developed the virus? Pain. Nightmares. Psychological torture. Mind control.” 

“Mind control?” Bucky speaks for the first time, his voice rough. 

“Yeah - I mean, has she been acting strange lately? Done anything out of character?” 

Awkward silence. So Banner hadn’t gotten the memo. A few uncomfortable gazes are exchanged, and Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Like, jumping off a 46th floor balcony?” Tony suggests.  

“Yeah, like - wait? She did that?”  

“She’s not dead, Banner, so don’t worry,” Natasha says dryly. “She was picked up by a cloaked jet. But mind control explains a lot. Really refutes the ‘28 has been part of Hydra all along’ theory, doesn’t it, Mr. Tinfoil Hat?” she snaps across the table to Clint, who colors.  

“Just a theory,” Clint mutters.  

“This reminds me of something,” Steve interjects, his brows furrowing as he straightens to pace down beside the table. “Remember that strip joint we busted last May? There were some mind-controlling drugs under the radar there. Do we still have samples? Can we compare?” 

“Brilliant idea,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Banner?” 

“Er - yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Any other connections anyone wants to make?” Tony asks, as Bruce turns off the projection. The room is darker now, and Bucky can feel several pairs of eyes boring into him. He’s gonna have to say something, isn’t he? With his stomach twisting in on itself like he’s going to barf out all his guts. 

“She hasn’t been acting strange,” Bucky mumbles at last, slinking back in his seat. He can’t look at anyone. It’s easier that way.  

“Were there any other missions where she might have been compromised, Sergeant? You seem to know her best.” 

Whether that’s disapproval in Fury’s voice - Bucky doesn’t care. Does Fury even know - ? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Bucky sighs, thinking back.  

The only people that know your name are either in this room or in your hometown. Your family doesn’t know of your career - and since you’ve had them under surveillance, any suspicious activity would have been discovered. They’re probably out of this.  

If not your name...your face? Could anyone have gotten a photo of you that SHIELD didn’t erase? Put two and two together, with the secret agent taking down bad guys with the Avengers? Wanted to go for a non-enhanced weakest link?  

A photo. A camera that wasn’t hooked up to the internet or any cloud drive…

The wedding. 

Bucky groans.  

“Tell us,” Tony says at once.  

“The wedding we went to last spring,” he sighs. “They had polaroid cameras for the guests to take pictures. We didn’t take any - but she could’ve popped up in some.” 

“Okay, so we have to assume Hydra targeted 28 for some specific reason,” Steve says. “Any ideas on that, anyone?” 

“She’s a SHIELD agent, Steve,” Natasha points out. “That’s reason enough. And she works with us. She’s dealt them plenty of blows in the last few years.” 

“So why did they kidnap her?” Sam asks. “And where is she?” 

But to that - no one has an answer. 

~

Voices are coming from far away. There’s an ache in your neck, which you roll to the side with a moan that feels like razor blades in your throat. Your head is pounding, and as you shift, something harsh rubs against the sensitive skin of your wrists. The edges of your brain feel fuzzy. Frayed. Wincing, you try to force yourself to think harder.  

“She still controlled?”  

“Should be, sir,” replies a different voice. This one bored.  

“And the bots?” 

“Still running. They’ve got about fourteen hours of life yet before they’ll need to be recharged.” 

“Good, good.” Some footsteps break through your haze, coming nearer. “It worked better than I expected. Be sure to thank Coates for his information.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Some silence. Easier to focus, to take stock of your surroundings. No good in letting them know your strength is coming back, you keep your eyes closed, using your other senses instead. The air is cold, and your feet are bare. The air stinks of metal and mold. As for how you got there - well, your memory isn’t obliging. The last clear thing in your mind is...Bucky. Of course. He’d kissed you goodnight, and suggested some sparring in the morning. So how’d you end up here? 

Ragged breathing comes close, and instinctively you roll your head the other way, gagging.  

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” the first voice says softly.  

“If you wanted a date so bad, you could’ve called,” you mutter.  

“How are you feeling, Agent?” 

You think for a moment, peeking open an eye. A shaft of light blinds you, but the peek is enough. Two men - only one of whom looks like a threat. A large room, no visible doors. You scrunch your nose. “I could use some coffee, scissors, a gun, and maybe a donut - but otherwise? Not bad.” 

Pause. “Were the others this snarky when they were under?” the first voice asks, hushed.  

“Er - sometimes, sir.” 

“Hmm. Agent, do you know why you’re here?” 

“You wanted a private poetry reading? I promise my fee isn’t that bad; a kidnapping is a bit extreme - ” 

“Shut up,” the first voice snaps. “Don’t talk again. You’ve been dealing me some severe losses lately, Agent. You and the Avengers. I’m done with it. But I figure if you’re out of the picture, that’s not enough, is it?” 

“Is it?” you mumble back. Your heart rate is increasing - not in panic - but with strength as feeling starts to come back into your arms and legs. That’s good. Your mind is less fuzzy, anyway. But they can’t know.  

“So, my chemical research division has been working hard. We got some mind-altering microbots in your system. You’re ours, now. Would be a shame to kill such a talented agent, right, Juan?” 

“Right, sir.” 

“You’re gonna destroy the Avengers for us. Then, poof! Blame misdirected.” 

You sigh, rolling your shoulders. The handcuffs around your wrists feel flimsy. “Monologuing evil plans is a bad idea, buster,” you tell him. “Now I know what you’re up to.” 

He chuckles. “And what can you do about it?” 

“I’ll figure out something. You said Ricky Coates is in on this?” 

“From prison, yes. As soon as you and your buddies are taken care of, I’ll get him out of jail. I’ve been missing my arms smuggling ventures. He may be ugly, but he’s good at what he does.” 

“Well, gee,” you sigh again. “You’ve gone through a lot of effort to go through to get one lone agent. Good job. I admire your efforts and dedication.” 

Silence.  

“How are those bots?” the first man asks the second in a hiss.  

“Reading normal, sir.” 

“Can’t even take a compliment,” you say woefully.  

“I’m done here,” the first man grumbles. Footsteps walk away - well, stomp, more like, and you’re left alone in the metal room. But not before the bright light above is dimmed to red, and the clanging of a metal door booms throughout the room, followed by several clicking locks. 

Huh. If you were totally with it, you’d guess that the door is vibranium.  

Smuggling, eh? Several missions over the last couple years are making a lot more sense now.  

Blinking at the dirty floor, your eyes adjust quickly to the dim light. Absurdly quickly. In fact, soon it seems just as bright in the room as when the full lights had been on. How unusual. So you can see in the dark now? Maybe this virus they gave you has some side effects. That would be helpful.  

Weirdly, your wrists are hurting less, too. And the headache is already gone. No nausea - though that might be expected in such a situation, all things considered. In fact, you feel pretty great.  

Suddenly voices are coming from somewhere. From beyond the door? The wall? You tilt your head to the side, ears perking.  

“Do you have the supplies to send her back with?” 

“Two noxious bombs - improved from when they diverted the effects in a closed vent area. Vibranium N-35s. A potato bomb.” 

Again with the potato bomb? You roll your eyes.  

“Alright. Monitor her until the bots need recharging; then boost ‘em, give her instructions, and send her on her way.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Like that’s gonna work. To get you to terrorize Avengers Tower, or that Stark can’t deal with a potato bomb. Those smugglers - idiots. Next time they come in, they’re toast.  

You take a breath, flexing your fingers. The rope they’d tied you with falls apart with a tug. And you wait.

~

Bucky can’t sleep.  

Two days, it’s been. Hasn’t slept since FRIDAY woke him up after your fall - or jump, whatever it was. He hates seeing the constant worry in Steve’s eyes, the concern in Natasha’s voice - it doesn’t matter. He’d finally escaped their overwhelming sympathy; instead, he’s standing on his terrace at midnight, right at the point you’d fallen - willingly or by mind control or some other coercion - and even with only a forced sandwich in his stomach, he still feels like barfing all over New York City.  

How had this happened?  

“Sergeant Barnes, a phone call for you.” FRIDAY’s soft voice sounds on the terrace. 

“Take a message.” 

“Sir, it’s Agent 28.” 

He jerks upright. Phone. You? Phone. Where is it? He stumbles back into the bedroom, searching wildly in the strewn bedcovers, on the nightstand, in a drawer -  

It’s across the room next to the closet, screen bright. Bucky dives for it. Unknown number. Doesn’t matter. FRIDAY already confirmed it’s you. 

“Babe? Babe, is that you?” 

“Bucky.” A sigh - a happy sigh. Oh, your voice. Nags of despair and hope make Bucky feel as though his stomach has dropped to his feet. He curls into a sitting position, back to the wall as a wave of relief seeps through his body like a drug.  

“You okay?” he asks roughly. 

“Oh, sure!” you chirp. “I mean, I was kidnapped, they tried to control me and use me for domestic terrorism, that sort of thing. But I’m fine. Their tech sucks - barely worked at all. I fought my way outta there with only two metal legs of a chair - can you believe that? Clint’s gonna be jealous. Can you send a jet to me?” 

Your babbling brings a smile to Bucky’s face - the first smile for two days, and he closes his eyes briefly. “Yeah - yeah, I’ll come get you. Can I get your coordinates?” 

“FRIDAY will have them.” 

FRIDAY’s voice chimes in. “I have her coordinates, Sergeant. Would you like me to prepare a jet?”

“Yes, please.” Bucky inhales deeply. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay? What happened?” 

“It’s just some microtech Hydra developed for mind control,” you say dismissively. “Apparently it’s in my blood, so - ” 

“Yeah, Banner showed us a sample he took while you were fighting off that virus. Some foreign things - they were going crazy.” 

Your chuckle makes his heart skip a beat. “Wasn’t so bad, though. There were side effects. I broke a guy’s leg today with my bare hands. Never done that before - it was pretty cool.” 

“What is this, a field trip?” Bucky snarks. “How are you so upbeat? When FRIDAY told me you jumped off the building, I thought - I thought you were - ” His throat closes over. There’s a soft sigh in his ear.  

“So the mind control worked a bit,” you confess. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You know how - how it goes.” 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Sergeant Barnes, the jet is ready - ”  

Bucky surges to his feet. He needs a tac vest. Guns. Boots. Everything. “I’m gonna come get you, ok babe?” 

“Thanks, Buck. Can you bring me some clothes, too?” 

“Of course. Love you.” 

“Love you, too. See you soon.” 

It’s gonna be ok. It’s gonna be ok. 

~

Lying back on the examination table, you shoot Bucky a wink across the room. He’s standing stiffly with quite the glower on his face - for Dr. Banner, not for you - but you can’t help be amused. Bucky has been a complete mother hen since picking you up somewhere in Honduras four hours earlier. Just straddling the line between endearing and exasperating.  

“You should be resting,” he states loudly.  

“I feel fine, Bucky,” you insist. “Really. And Dr. Banner will get better samples and readings now than later. It’s fine.” 

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Banner says, a little irritably. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate Bucky hovering. You don’t blame him - but you also don’t want to send Bucky away, either.  

The blood draw barely stings. Your blood looks normal, too - at least to you. Saliva test, some brain activity being scooted out on a tablet. It takes less than a half hour, though it feels much longer with Bucky tapping his foot impatiently.  

“FRIDAY, compile these results and make me some graphs,” Banner says absently, spinning on his stool back to a table. He dips into a vial of blood to smear across a glass plate, sticking it under a microscope. You take a deep breath - the computer monitoring your heart rate seems to be beeping awfully fast - whatever that’s about. Because you don’t feel like your heart’s going 120 BPM. Feels like 60.  

“Whoa.” The softest breath is exhaled from Banner. Careful not to dislodge any wires, you poke up your head.  

“What is it?” 

“This is amazing. FRIDAY, project please. And send for Stark. And Steve.” 

Tony and Steve? What for? You don’t care - the projection beaming across the room draws your attention. Blinking in surprise, your lips part slightly. 

“Those microbots again,” Bucky says after a startled moment. He’s staring, too. “But what - ” 

“They’re being attacked,” Dr. Banner clarifies. “But not by white blood cells.” 

All you see are squiggles. The red blood cells you recognize - the microbots are silver and square, fluttering madly as different cells - red, but lumpy and enormous - pursue them. As you watch, one of the massive red cells consumes a microbot. One less.  

“The bad guys didn’t say anything about anyone fighting off the microbots,” you muse.  

Banner chuckles, pulling off his glasses to wipe his shining brow. “I don’t think anyone else could. Where’s Tony?” 

“On his way, sir.” 

Dr. Banner returns to your side, picking up the tablet recording your vitals. His eyes bug out of his head. “Unprecedented,” he murmurs, as if to himself. “I’m gonna track every moment of this; this is groundbreaking, this is spectacular, this is - ” 

“This is my girlfriend,” Bucky snaps, interrupting at last as he strides over to your side, facing down Banner across the examination table. “You’re not experimenting on her, no matter how unprecedented this is.” 

“Don’t be silly, Bucky,” you admonish. “He just wants to find out the scientific reason for how cool I am. I don’t blame him.” 

“Don’t joke - ” 

The doors to the lab slide open; Tony first, followed quickly by Steve. And Natasha and Clint and Sam - because they’re certainly not going to miss a party.  

“What’s this?” Tony wastes no time asking, striding right up to the projection to study closely.  

“Blood sample I took from Agent 28 ten minutes ago,” Banner explains. “Look familiar?” 

Silence. Steve’s brow furrows. No one looks like they know what’s going on - except Banner, who’s grinning as he adds, “FRIDAY, pull up the recorded sample I took of Cap’s blood when he was fighting off tetanus.”  

A second projection pings up. Except for the viruses, there’s a remarkable similarity - Steve’s blood cells are lumpy and huge, too.  

“Oh, and normal cells fighting a virus, too. Just for fun.” 

This third picture is remarkably normal. Normal cells, though the white blood cells are much slower than yours and Steve’s. 

“Have you been taking super serum, Agent?” Sam jokes. 

“Not unless someone’s been spiking my cereal,” you shoot back. Then, with Bucky’s help, you gingerly swing your legs over to sit on the examination table. Blood rushes to your head - but the dizziness passes quickly. Everything is crystal clear around you. Too clear. 

“Could they have added something when they gave her the virus?” Steve asks, crossing his arms. 

“No - they wouldn’t have. Even Hydra’s not that stupid,” Natasha points out.  

“Do any of you remember that the blood sample I took when she was first shot didn’t have the enhanced cells?” Banner says. “The change must have happened since then.” 

“Oh, right,” Tony says slowly. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he swivels slightly to stare beadily in your direction. Then to Bucky behind you. You can practically see his wheels turning. “You and Barnes been indulging in blood play?” he asks. 

“Ew,” says Clint. 

“No,” you tell him, with Bucky’s yuck ringing in your ears.  

“Can any traits be passed through - say, saliva?” Tony asks Banner next, who shrugs.  

“Doubt it. Otherwise she would’ve been enhanced long ago, right? And Sharon, too? Not to mention sharing cups and straws - I don’t think the serum works quite like mono.” 

Steve’s ears turn red, and you grin. Tony taps his chin, still in thought. 

“Getting it yet?” Banner asks. His grin is nearly frightening. “Here - Steve - ” He gestures to Steve, who starts. And he points to you. “Go have a listen.” 

Steve balks. “A listen?”

“Yes, a listen. Or I’ll have to drag out more equipment and I don’t wanna do that. Everyone, quiet!” 

Clint’s mutterings to Natasha cut off. 

With a shrug, Steve walks over to you. Lifting a brow, you watch as he mouths, Sorry, to Bucky behind you, and then lowers his head. Not quite touching your chest, and clearly uncomfortable. 

“Heartbeat is faster than normal,” Steve reports. 

“And?” Banner prompts. Steve’s expression pinches as the room goes absolutely silent, apart from the beep-beeps of various machinery. Then his head tilts slightly, and his mouth falls open.  

“Oh,” he says faintly, after a moment. 

“Was I right?” Banner asks, rubbing his hands together. 

“Er - yeah, if that’s what your theory was.” 

“No way,” Tony says slowly. “No-frigging-way.” 

“FRIDAY, pull up Agent 28’s medical records.” 

Restlessly you tap your fingers on the edge of the table as Steve steps away. His eyes are wide, flickering towards Bucky. Some silent exchange must be passed, because Bucky steps around the table to face you. Uncertainty rims his eyes, and you bite your lip.  

And just as Steve had done, Bucky lowers his head to your middle. Tucking some stray hair behind his ear, he frowns for a moment, before -  

You wince. “I was going to tell you,” you try. 

Banner glances over. “You knew?” 

“Of course I knew,” you shoot back, aware of Bucky’s blue eyes boring into your face as he wets his lips, and straightens. “I only found out like, four days ago. I...was going to wait to tell you on your birthday. Next week.” 

Bucky blinks down at you. Lost for words, apparently. But his flesh hand feels yours out on the table, squeezing tightly.  

“But it looks like you saved me from mind control,” you add with a smile, and finally, Bucky gives a huff of laughter. It’s as if the tension in the room has been broken, and he wraps you in a hug so tightly that you start to see stars, and Sam starts to complain. 

“Save it for later, you guys.”

Banner is babbling. “It explains everything - the higher temperature - the engorged cells - the increased heart rate. This is seriously unprecedented; we have no record of any pregnancies involving super-serum. That she’s showing symptoms of enhancement herself? To carry enhanced fetuses? Will the effects last? How enhanced will the offspring be? This is pioneering work, Tony.” 

“Yeah, if you want to wake up in the middle of the night with Barnes standing over you with a knife in each hand,” Stark says dryly. “You think he’s gonna let you touch her now?” 

“No,” Bucky says at once. 

“It’s fine, Bruce,” you contradict. “I don’t mind. FRIDAY, did you log the coordinates of where I was held? I’m itching to get back. There’s a smuggling ring; Tony - Coates was in on it, and the terror cell in Stockholm and the potato bomb and the vibranium we’ve been seeing in Hydra facilities - ” 

“We’ll work on that,” Tony assures you, a little startled. “You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Um - ” you blink. “They wanted me. They targeted me. To get to all of you. I’m gonna worry about it. They need to go.”

“We’re not disagreeing with that, 28,” Steve says soothingly. “But you’ve just had a harrowing experience - ” 

“I’m not harrowed,” you interrupt. “I’m operating on your level now, Stevie. I feel great. I could probably throw you across the room right now, thanks to Bucky’s super-sperm - ” 

“Ugh!” Sam groans. “I never want to hear that phrase again.” 

“ - and I haven’t even felt nauseous,” you conclude. “Really - you don’t want to fight an enhanced pregnant lady. I’m gonna be milking this for all it’s worth, you guys. Don’t cross me. Twelve hours ago I fought off 22 Hydra agents in my pajamas.” 

Maybe the grime leftover on your face from your kidnapping is making you a little more frightening. Maybe it’s that the examination table cracked underneath your grip. Maybe it’s Bucky, glaring around and looking like he’s ready to strangle someone. But no one responds for an awkward moment.  

“Ok,” Tony says at last. Banner is looking at his notes, and Steve and Natasha swap a grimace.  

“Will you rest yet?” Bucky murmurs to you. “We can talk about this later.” 

His nose is pressed close to your ear - you shiver, goosebumps of pleasure breaking out across your skin. Even from such a simple touch. Because you haven’t seen him in two days? Because you missed him? Or because your sensitivity to things like touch and smell and sounds is rapidly increasing? 

“Sure. If Banner’s done with me.” 

Fortunately, Dr. Banner nods. “Done for now, 28.”

~

The next morning there's no sunrise behind blankets of overcast clouds hanging low over the city. But that suits you - it means you don’t have to get up, either. Because who would want to, with Bucky curled up so close with his ear pressed to your belly? 

“You’re so much warmer than usual,” he muses. “It’s crazy. You’re like me now.” 

“Right. I could probably put my fist through a concrete wall, if I wanted,” you tease.  

“You wanna?” 

“Not yet. Maybe next time Sam or Clint try to make fun of me. Just to show them who’s in charge around here.” 

Bucky chortles as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. The peaceful shroud of the moment is like the fog outside - but warm and comforting. The bunker you’d been held in in Honduras is far away. Barely even matters. Only the here, and now. 

“You know there’s more than one heartbeat in there, right?” Bucky murmurs after a while. You smile at the ceiling.  

“I’m not surprised. Super sperm, and all.” 

Bucky laughs, his metal fingers tracing little circles on the inside of your thigh.  

“How many?” you ask boldly.  

“Um - two at least. I mean, the little beats are so fast and they’re overlapping like crazy. I bet Banner would find out for you, if you like.” 

“Nah. I like to be surprised.” 

“Surprised? You?” Bucky lifts his head, his eyes glittering up at you as he rests his chin on your ribs. “Since when, babe?” 

“Since I learned that some surprises can be good,” you retort, pinching his chin as he grins. The look in his gaze softens slightly, but his lips stay curled as he studies your face intently. “Looking for something?” you tease lightly.  

“Yeah. Just...for the future, I guess.” 

“Mmm. Wanna talk about how we're gonna bust up the smuggling ring?” 

“Not really.”  

“You’re no fun,” you sigh. 

“And you can’t go.” 

You lift a brow. “Bucky…” 

“You shouldn’t go,” he clarifies, though there’s a definite edge to his voice. “And I don’t say that because I think you’re not capable - because you are - but...it’s such an unnecessary risk - ” 

“I’ve taken risks before, Bucky.” 

“I know. You’re so amazing,” he says, his eyes darkening a shade. “But it’s ok for you to step back and let us take care of this.” 

“But I don’t need to.” 

“But you don’t have to go, either.” In his urgency, Bucky props himself on an elbow at your side, eyes so much closer now, better able to coerce you. “No one doubts you, babe. You don’t have to prove yourself.” 

“I’m…” Your head tilts to the side, a bare frown pinching your brows. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m going to do my job. Which has nothing to do with proving anything - you do remember that I work alongside the Avengers and get none of the credit? I’ve been putting bad guys in prison for years, and none of them even know my code name. It’s not about proving myself.” 

“You don’t have to see this mission through,” Bucky tries again.  

“I’m going to,” you snap back. “You’re not my boss, Bucky. Unless Fury orders me off, I’m going. Which he won’t, because he’s not an idiot - I know where we’re going, I know the building. I’ll be much more help out there than sitting here with my feet propped up.” 

“So I am an idiot,” Bucky says, and his voice is cold. A shattering moment that his gaze connects with yours - and then he rolls over and climbs out of the bed to stalk away.  

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” You huff in indignation. He’s apparently determined to misunderstand. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Digging around in a drawer, Bucky tugs on a shirt and shorts, hair sticking to his head. “‘S my fault for trying to protect ya, you know? Every time I try, you bite my head off - ” 

“Because you don’t need to worry that much about me,” you argue. The bed is much less welcoming now, and you leap out to search out your own clothes. “I can take care of myself. I’m not with you because you protect me - Bucky, I love you, and that’s a completely different matter. ” 

“Different?” His head swivels back to you, his eyes glittering darkly. “Oh, so I’m supposed to love you and not protect you? Let you jump off a cliff if you want? Or a building?” 

“Ha, ha,” you say sardonically, rolling your eyes as you tug on a bathrobe.  

“I can’t love you without wanting to protect you,” Bucky growls. “Asking me to is like...it’s like just having sex without any feelings. It’s not right. I can’t do it.” 

“Then how about you stay home while I finish this mission and you can pout to your heart’s content,” you snap. Glowering, Bucky turns on his heel, and stomps to the door. Over his shoulder he shoots back,  

“Maybe I will. Because the great Agent 28 can do everything by herself.” 

“And the great Winter Soldier is too stubborn to accept that he can’t have the entire world on his shoulders - ” 

The door opens, and slams shut. Your words are cut off, and the trembling shake of your beating-too-fast heart is making your breath catch. Tears burn your eyes, and your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a choked sob. What is happening? Is this the serum? The hormones?  

There have been no footsteps moving away. Beyond the door, you can hear Bucky’s breathing - ragged, and sighing. Oh, thank you super hearing - you rush to the door, putting your hand on the handle. At the same moment he bursts back through, eyes wild and red, and without a word he crashes into you with an enormous hug, and you cling to him as tears fall onto his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” he mutters into your hair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know - ” 

“No, Bucky, it’s not your fault,” you snivel.  “It’s me. I think my hormones are amplified.” 

He chortles, kicking the door shut again. Then he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your nose. A steadying breath, and then you can meet his eyes again as he cups your face in his hands.  

“I can’t stop you,” Bucky murmurs, the slightest smile lifting his lips. “I know that. But I can be there with you, to protect you when push comes to shove and you really need me. You’ll never shake me, babe.” 

“I don’t want to,” you whisper back. “I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. I know you’re just trying to look out for me.” 

His voice is rumbly, low. “Gotta take care of my girl.” His lips inch towards yours as you speak, and finally you let your eyes flutter shut to feel the full potency of his kiss. The disagreement is lost in the roving hands, desperate and eager to make amends.  

Your robe falls to the ground as his fingers press eagerly into the flesh of your hips. A moan forms in your throat, and Bucky bites down on your lip. He pushes himself flush against you - the evidence of his arousal very much in evidence - and your breath is coming in short gasps as your back hits the wall and you’re dragged up so your legs wrap around his waist. Mindlessly you rip his shirt over his head before fastening your lips to his neck, where some of your frustration comes out as bright purple bruises - Bucky grunts.  

“You’re stronger now, don’t forget,” he mutters, wrenching down his shorts with one hand. “Please be careful with me.” 

You laugh, the sound throaty and hoarse as you lean your head against the wall, letting your eyes close in bliss. “Well, you don’t have to be too gentle with me. I’m not gonna break, you know.” 

“Nah. But the wall will.” 

Biting your lip, you open your eyes to meet Bucky’s - his gaze is devouring, as he maneuvers you to align with his hips. It only takes a single thrust and sparks burst across your body in sensual bursts of pleasure. Fireworks dance on the back of your eyelids as your legs clench around his waist, trying to pull him closer. Unable to stop yourself, you let loose a long, sighing moan, your arms tightening around his neck as he tries to breath in.  

“What the - ” he chokes. “Did you finish? Feels like you did.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” you whimper.  

A startled pause. And then Bucky starts to laugh - of course. And while your face is warm, you can’t be embarrassed. Without pulling out, he hoists you more securely on his hips and away from the wall, carrying you to the bed as you bury your face in the musky scent of his neck.  

“Alright, Miss Super-Sensitive,” he murmurs into your ear as he lays you back on the pillows. The softness engulfs you, and you sigh again. “Now you get to know how I feel when ya tease me. Extra sensitivity and all.” 

“You don’t have to tease to prove a point.” You peek open an eye to glare. “Come on. I’m ready for round two.” 

“Round two? What’s that? I get a real thrust in this time?” Bucky teases. “We gonna be here all day, babe?” 

“Don’t tempt me, Barnes.” Digging a heel into his bum, you bring him closer - his eyes darken as he lowers himself into your embrace. “Ah. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He huffs a chuckle, and any thought of teasing is forgotten.  

The concession you do make - after a much more mature conversation takes place regarding your role on this upcoming mission - is that you allow Dr. Banner to continue to monitor the pregnancy, and if he discovers even a hint of danger - you must agree to follow doctor’s orders. But it’s not surprising to you that he finds no hint of danger.  

“Like I said, it’s gonna be fine,” you assure Bucky, as Banner is studying your charts at a desk, while a monitor records your vitals in a plush chair nearby. “If I’m carrying super-babies - I gotta be super, too. Or else they’d kick themselves right out of my tummy.” 

“Thanks for that image,” Bucky deadpans. His flesh hand is on your shoulder, squeezing slightly. “I know you’re not worried even a little bit, so how about you let me worry for you? Hmm?” 

“Hmm - nah.” 

“Everything looks spick and span,” Dr. Banner announces, swiveling back ‘round. “I’ve been wondering if the rate of pregnancy will increase with the genetic enhancements - but it appears to be proceeding normally. How fascinating.”

“What a relief,” Bucky mutters. 

“Will I be alright to go on this mission?” you ask, ignoring Bucky.  

“Sure. Just...don’t jump off anything and don’t get punched in the gut. The serum is obviously protecting you to some extent, but don't test it, yeah?” 

“I won’t,” you promise.  

“Oh, sure - she listens to you,” Bucky says sardonically to Dr. Banner, who blanches. Banner opens his mouth to speak, but since Bucky’s just being grumpy, you cut in, 

“Do you know if they’re twins, Dr. Banner? Or more?” 

“Oh! I thought you knew.” Banner hits some buttons on his tablet, and a squiggling image is projected. You squint at it for a moment but thankfully Banner takes pity. He points and says, “Two. One here. One here.” 

“Nice,” you say with a grin.  

“Oh boy,” Bucky says faintly.  

“Not ‘oh boy.’ Maybe they’re girls,” you tease, nudging him with an elbow. He peeks one beady eye down to glare at you. 

“Don’t you even start, babe. Like I need two more of you.” But his eyes are sparkling; you know he's not serious.  

“Oh, ha, ha. You’d be so lucky.”

Red-faced, Dr. Banner quickly unhooks you from the monitor, and you’re free to go - on the mission, too. There’s a sense of relief with that - the team will have your knowledge of the bunker, and that urge to finish what had been started in your name will finally be satisfied. Then you can take a step back, and Bucky will be pleased. 

~

Mission Day is bright and sunny. You’re the last one on the jet - finishing up a phone call with Director Fury - and when you step on in full gear, Clint only complains about your tardiness a little bit. Then the gangway is lifted.  

“Sorry,” you say to everyone, taking an empty seat beside Bucky to strap on your buckle. He eyes you suspiciously, but says nothing. The usual crease from your smile isn’t there. But when you glance up at him, you grin. “Fury made me promise I would shoot out any cameras in the facility.” 

“It took twenty minutes for him to tell you that?”  

“Eh - mostly.” You don’t clarify, and the engines of the jet rumble to life. Bucky closes his eyes - he’s not exactly a fan of takeoff or landing - but he does peek over at you as your hands find his on his lap, squeezing tightly. You wink, and he smiles back.  

“I’m feeling pizza for dinner, how about you guys?” Tony’s gaze is fastened on his phone, typing quickly.  

“How about something healthy for once?” Natasha asks. “Some of us who aren’t enhanced are gonna end up with heart disease if you keep ordering pizza all the time.” 

“Don’t care,” Clint calls from the pilot’s seat.  

“Don’t care,” says Sam, arms folded.  

“Someone should care,” Steve says. “I agree with Nat, Tony. If you aren’t gonna order something healthy, I’ll cook.” 

“On second thought,” Natasha muses. 

“No! No, no, no,” Stark says quickly, panic filling his features as he holds out a hand in surrender. “I’ll get - hummus or something. Don’t worry about it, Steve.” 

Your giggle joins the others in the cabin of the jet. Steve is looking distinctly miffed, but he’s perfectly aware of the team’s trepidation towards his cooking, and he doesn’t mind it one bit. Bucky can recall more than one occasion in the last century of choking down some experimental supper - he’s glad it’s not just him, anymore.  

“No opinion from the pregnant lady?” Stark asks, casting a look towards you. 

“Hmm? What? For dinner?” You sit up straighter, as if you’d been distracted. “Nah, whatever you guys want.” 

“No cravings?” Natasha wonders curiously. 

“Well - I’ve been really thirsty. That’s about it.” 

“Are your taste buds super sensitive?” Steve asks with an interested glint in his eye.

“Um,” you think for a moment. “I guess they’re a bit more sensitive than they used to be.” 

“Man, after I got the serum, eating was like...an orgasmic experience,” Steve says, his eyes misting over a bit as Natasha snorts. “All new flavors. New combinations.”

“That’s because you couldn’t taste for crap to begin with,” Bucky points out. “Remember when you made your ma breakfast in bed and she puked it up because it was so bad?” 

Laughter rings out - Steve’s face turns red from his collar to his ears, and opening his mouth in indignity he protests, “I was like, seven years old, Buck. I didn’t know!” 

“If you could’ve tasted it, you woulda known,” Bucky says wisely.  

“Everyday, we learn more rich details of the life of Captain America,” Stark says with a sigh, a smile stealing over his features as he leans his head back. “I’m so glad Bucky lives at the Tower.” 

“Good to know I’m wanted,” Bucky retorts. Your fingers tighten on his hand, and he huffs in disgruntlement.  

“And how do you earn your keep, Tony?” you ask him. “I haven’t heard any good anecdotes about Rhodey lately.” 

Tony’s eyes widen. “I’ve been failing.” And he launches into a story so overly-detailed and convoluted that Bucky loses track of what’s going on within ten seconds. Peeking over at you, he sees the mischief in your eyes as you contain your laughter.  

“ - and then the chicken just ripped the pages out of the book and went squawking into the night, we had to - ” 

The story lasts all the way to Honduras.  

Bucky is, to no surprise, a little tense when the team is finally entering the facility. It’s hot and sticky, and even the thudding urge to revenge himself on these people that kidnapped you - it’s with irritation that he lifts his rifle to his shoulder, right behind Steve for an initial sweep.  

“The security room is top floor,” you’d told them - and Bucky eyes you as you break off from the group to the left in search of a staircase. The team would be clearing out people to be arrested (the local police has already been notified), and your mission was to shut down the building and wipe their tech. After salvaging anything useful, of course.  

It’s not a large building. Clint’s in the basement, Natasha and Sam clear out the bottom floor, Steve and Bucky the second, and Tony finishes tidying things on the roof. Fifteen minutes, and over the coms congratulations are exchanged. 

“Police are three minutes out,” Stark reports. “28, you almost done? I’d like to get out of here before we get asked too many questions.” 

“Almost done,” your voice says calmly. “Um - which one of you aggravated the guy in charge? There seems to be a self-destruct feature that just turned itself on.” 

Steve swears.  

“How much time is left?” Tony asks briskly. 

“Three minutes.” 

“Everyone, OUT.” 

“Already on it,” Natasha reports breathlessly.  

Side by side Steve and Bucky run towards the nearest exit - Bucky’s heart is beating fast, and when he sees that the stairs leading to an emergency door, he doesn’t miss the staircase going up. Steve goes down. Bucky doesn't look back, and starts climbing. 

“Bucky - ” Steve calls back, warning in his tone. 

“Gotta get 28,” Bucky snaps.  

“Time’s ticking, Barnes,” Tony reminds him in his ear. Like he’d forget.  

The bodies of two security guards block the way into the room - Bucky steps over them, tempted to laugh despite the circumstances. You’re crouched over a central server, but look up with a frown when he enters. Then, without warning, the building starts to shake - automatically he puts his hand to the doorframe, sucking in a breath.  

“You need to get out,” you tell him over the distant groans of metal and shuddering concrete. 

“So do you.” 

“Bucky,” you say, voice level. “The doors automatically locked when the countdown started. I’ve been manually opening them so the team can get out - you need to go.” 

Bucky slings his rifle on his back, jaw ticking. “Not without you, babe.” 

“If I leave here, we’ll be locked in anyway.” Another shake - pitter patters of shattered rocks hit the ground; you stumble, but slam your hand back on the lever. “Bucky, go.” 

“Not without you,” he repeats stupidly, striding over you to haul you to your feet. You pull your arm back, but not angrily.  

“Bucky.” The calmness in your voice is scarier than the rumbling of the building, than the cracks in the ceiling. He stares, heart pumping fast as he devours the serenity in your gaze, eager to take whatever better solution you’re hiding. You always have a way out.  

“Bucky,” you say again, and your lips curl into a soft smile. “I'm staying. You have to let me go.”

“N - no…” Bucky’s voice cracks on the word. “No.” 

“Bucky, please. I can do this. It’s my choice.” 

“No!” 

“Bucky - ” 

“You can’t!” His throat is burning as he shouts - he’s never raised his voice at you before, but you don’t flinch. Only that smile, that sea of tranquility as the ground shakes again. Things are falling from the ceiling - how they don’t hit you, or him - he doesn't know. He doesn’t care. “I’m gonna protect you,” Bucky says, his tongue tripping over the words. “I’m gonna save you, babe - it’s us, remember? We gotta be together. There’s - there’s no me without you anymore.”

“Bucky,” you repeat, even softer. “You have to let me go.” 

“No.” 

Exasperation. “You really gonna make me do this, Barnes? Really?” 

“No, come with me, we’ll figure it out - ” 

But you’re already bending over to pick up a broken section of a pipe that had fallen from the ceiling. Bucky’s stomach turns - he’s gonna puke, he knows it - but before he can do more than open his mouth in surprise, you swing the pipe directly at his head and it connects with a resonating thud that drops him like a rag doll.  

His vision is fuzzy; there’s only grey, only the distant thudding of his own heart and cold - cold everywhere. And a pair of boots coming close - your boots - is he still there? A soft hand on his head, and he remembers no more.  

The resounding explosion and whoosh of red-hot flames jolts Bucky awake. Panic fills every cell of his body, and his limbs jerk reflexively to find - how the heck? - he’s hovering above the jungle, being carried under the arms by Stark. The roaring whoosh of the facility destroying itself perhaps twenty feet away makes his ears ring. The ground looms loser; a canopy of trees before he’s dropped the last ten feet to the ground. 

As his ears adjust from the deafening noise, he can hear distant footsteps. Bracing himself on all fours, Bucky shakes his head to clear it of noise and the stench of smoke. Then he’s being hauled up by Steve. 

“We thought you weren’t gonna make it out, man,” Steve says wildly, searching Bucky’s face for injury.  

“Wasn’t supposed to,” Bucky mutters back.  

“Where’s 28?” Natasha. Out of breath, and looking, for the first time he’s ever seen her - terrified. Bucky’s tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, and his ears are ringing.  

“She - ” he tries to say, and lump the size of Antarctica wells up in his throat. His eyes are burning - dust from debris, and a horrific, all-consuming grief is battering in his chest. “She...stayed. To complete the...detonation. To let us out.” 

Sam’s voice cusses. Sam’s there? And Tony...Tony’s voice is mingling with Natasha’s. Suddenly Steve is pulling him into a half-hug, and without thinking Bucky clings to him, uncaring that he’s ruining Steve’s uniform with snot.  

“I was gonna go back for her next,” Stark is babbling, something akin to panic coloring his voice. “Honest, I was. But I barely got Barnes out in time - ” 

Bucky doesn’t remember much, after that.  

~

He’s numb. Everywhere, numb.  

Lying on his back, on his neatly-made bed in Avengers Tower - the bed he’d made with you that morning, with your every-morning insistence that the bed be put neatly back together. The bed with your scent still in the sheets, with strands of hair clinging to pillows, with your chapstick and keys and the bowie knife he’d given you for your birthday and collection of clicky pens and half-used notepads. All shoved in the door of the opposite nightstand. The nightstand which he’d moved in himself, after coming clean about seeing each other and you started sleeping at the Tower more and more.  

Bucky chews his lip raw, just to feel something, but it doesn’t help - the sting of air on broken, bleeding flesh is nothing. Barely even registers. 

You can’t be dead. You can’t. Not when you’d been riling things up with your usual teasing that morning. Not when you’d written “LUV UR BUTT” in the steam from his shower on the mirror only fifteen hours earlier. Not when you’d been bouncing around, acting like you owned the place because you were pregnant, joking that you were going to get special treatment or you’d use your new strength to throw the couch across the tower - 

It’s the pregnancy that sends Bucky hurtling to the bathroom, vomiting up what feels like three days worth of bile and bits of forgotten meals. His head is pounding as if someone was taking a sledgehammer to his temples, over and over and over again, until he’s slouched on the floor, worn out with only the cold tile of the floor on his cheek any link to reality. 

A minute later, or a day or a week or a year, Steve is there, lifting Bucky up by his arms and taking his limp weight out of the bathroom. Then it’s the bed again, your smell, and Bucky tries to protest -  but no luck.  

“You don’t look so good, pal,” Steve says, kinder than Bucky perhaps deserves. “Here. Dr. Banner sent something to help you sleep.” There’s a little medicinal cup in Steve’s hand, which makes Bucky grimace - ugh, he hates medicine.  

“Yuck,” he says petulantly.  

“Drink it, punk. Or I’ll force it down your throat.” Ah. There’s Steve’s testiness.  

“You know, when you were sick all the time as a kid, I remember being a lot nicer than this,” Bucky snaps, peeved as he snatches the cup from Steve, downing it on a single gulp. It’s too sweet, and he smacks his tongue in disgust.  

“Whatever you say, bud. Just sleep, ok?” 

Steve’s pinched face is getting fuzzy. Fast medicine. His limbs are feeling heavy, so Bucky lets his head fall into the pillow, welcoming the softer numbness, and the blackness.

~

Bucky sits upright in bed, breathing in panicked gasps as piercing sunlight hits his eyes. Scrunching his face with a groan, he pinches his nose as he tries to calm himself. But the nightmare is too close; when he closes his eyes, the repulsive face of the Enforcer is still in his mind’s eye.  

And his voice. That awful voice. The one that had commanded so many murders, so many missions and bloodshed and terrorism. The man who had worked for Hydra as a handler for over twenty years.  

Always bring back a body, he would bark to Bucky. No body, no kill. Even if it’s in pieces, bring back proof. It was to test his loyalty, Bucky had supposed long ago. The rule had been relaxed only a handful of times, when the target was too prolific to be smuggling out body parts.  

He rubs his eyes. “FRIDAY, what time is it?” 

“6:52 a.m., sir. Shall I send for Dr. Banner or Captain Rogers?” 

“Er - no. No.” 

Bucky’s throat hurts. It’s raw, like someone had taken a grater to it and made him drink lemonade. He finally looks up, barely daring to let his eyes rove around the room to take in his surroundings, to ground himself back.  

A painting Steve had done of Brooklyn in the 40s. The open closet door, with familiar clothes hanging inside. He flinches from the sight of your belongings. His nightstand - nope, there’s the picture of you and him, though you’d been wiped from it. The ugly carpet.  

Always bring back a body.  

Bucky flinches. If the Enforcer was still alive, he wouldn’t mind wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat… 

Always bring back a body. 

Bucky freezes.  

Always bring back a body. No body. No kill.  

No kill? No body? 

…No kill. 

Oh hell. He was so stupid.  

That last-minute phone call with Fury? Your quietness, on the flight down? That you’d accepted death so calmly, without even questioning it...that you’d knocked him out cold and he'd somehow made it out safely?  

Damn you. You’d planned this, right under his nose.  

Bucky wrenches back the bed covers - Steve must have tucked him in - and stomps to the closet to pull out a jacket and shoes. He’s still in his tac gear. Who cares? He probably stinks like vomit, too. He doesn’t care about that either.  

Stomp stomp stomp to the elevator. Natasha and Sam are in the common room, but their whispered exchange breaks off abruptly as Bucky passes them. He doesn’t even look. They’re probably laughing at him, at his grief - because you’re not dead at all. You’d faked your own death and he’d been duped.  

Stomp stomp stomp to the train. It’s early, so it’s not busy - but he’s given a wide berth.  

Stomp stomp stomp to an office building he’d only visited once or twice. Inside, setting off the metal detector, but one furious glare stalls the security guard. Onto the elevator. Top floor.  

Stomp stomp stomp. 

Fury is standing at the enormous windows of his office, overlooking the city he protects. Hands clasped behind his back, he looks a forbidding figure - but Bucky is too broiled to be scared. 

“Afternoon, Sergeant,” Fury says casually, not turning around. “To what do I owe this visit?” 

The words bite out of Bucky’s mouth. “I think you know, sir.” 

A huffing chuckle. “I can guess. Figured you’d turn up sooner or later.” Fury turns around then, bringing a hand to his face to rub his jaw. His eyes are piercing on Bucky, but Bucky doesn’t move. Then the slightest smile crack’s Fury’s lips. “How’d you find out?” 

“No body, no kill.” 

Fury nods. “Fair.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think?” 

Bucky doesn't want to think. But the sternness in Fury’s gaze gives him pause. “Her cover was blown,” he says at last.  

Fury nods again. “At SHIELD, that usually means forced retirement. Of a mission, or an entire identity.” 

But Bucky knows this. So he blurts the question he really wants to know the answer to: “Where is she?” 

Fury lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“Wh - ” 

“I can tell you what she’s doing,” Fury clarifies, as Bucky balls his fists. “She’s burning her identity. She could be anywhere, really. She’ll show up again, sooner or later. Probably.” 

From Fury, this is like information gold. He’s never this verbal. Bucky should be thankful for that - but mostly he’s just more confused. Why hadn’t you come to him right away? Told the team? He could’ve helped you burn your identity...he’s good at that.  

As Bucky turns to leave, Fury adds a parting comment, “Memorial next Saturday. You’d better show. Keep up appearances.” 

A memorial? A freaking funeral? This is the sickest joke Bucky’s ever been a part of - and he’d cut off more than one penis in his service to Hydra to send to grieving widows. At least no one will be sending him any parts of you...right?  

He has seen way too much. 

Stark was kind enough to spring for the funeral, with obscene amounts of flowers and booze, with what seems like all of SHIELD and the Avengers attending in the reception hall on the ground floor of the Tower. Bucky hates it - partially because it’s, you know, your funeral - partially because he’s itching to find you, but he has no leads to go look for you and bring you home.  

If he was willing to talk to the rest of the team, that might be a different story. But feeling as though he’d been left out of the entire scheme, he hasn’t been very social lately.  

But he’s here now - a glass of whisky in his hand but not drinking it, trying to appear what passes for normal as he’s greeted and consoled by dozens of people he doesn’t actually know. The distant tinkling piano music doesn’t help his nerves. Nor does Nick Fury’s droning voice, giving a eulogy he knows is fake.  

“Competent agent, a loyal friend, someone you really want to have your back in a tight spot…” 

The last part gets dry laughs from the crowd. Bucky’s fingers clench on his drink, the metal screeching on the glass. Funny how Fury doesn’t say anything about your love of puns or that you once won a pretzel eating contest when you were a teenager. Or that you’re incapable of doing any undercover accents.  

Bucky jumps when Natasha lays a hand on his arm. 

“Geez, Barnes, you’re a bit tense, aren’t you?” she says, frowning a little, but letting him go all the same.  

“Wouldn’t you be?” he retorts.  

“Well, sure.”  

Bucky tries very hard to read Natasha - but she’s a tough nut to crack. Always has been. The nonchalance in her eyes could be hiding real grief, or it could be the expression of her boredom in a funeral for someone who’s obviously not dead. A moment later her brow quirks.  

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” And she stalks away. 

More pulls and nudges in other directions. Half-hearted listening, no-hearted responses. Bucky taps his foot restlessly, peering over the crowd, desperate for escape. He’s put in his time, right? He can leave. His eyes roam over towards the bar, then to a door, then - back to the bar.  

A woman he doesn’t know.  

Or does he?  

Bucky’s vision tunnels. His throat goes try, his heart lodging somewhere around his tonsils. Breaking off the conversation he wasn’t interested in, he winds around the crowd of people, eyes only on the woman at the bar. He’s not really surprised when her gaze turns to him, and she smiles.  

He stops in front of her. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” she says back, her voice weirdly unnatural. Though the features are unfamiliar, he’s drawn in like a fish to bait. He’d know you anywhere, in any form. His heart is thumping a wild rhythm, of hope and excitement and relief and about a hundred other things. But he keeps his voice level.  

“Most people consider it poor manners to attend your own funeral in disguise,” Bucky deadpans. A snort of laughter.  

“Why? I’m having a grand time. Look at how many people will miss me.” 

“Is your vanity satisfied?” he asks, a little annoyed.  

“Mostly. How’d you know it was me?” 

Bucky sits on the barstool next to you, crossing his arms as he gazes out at the crowd. “Probably the way you were looking at everybody like you’ve executed a marvelous joke and no one knows it.” 

Another laugh. “I’m getting clumsy.” 

“You wanted me to find you.” 

“Of course I did.” A softer smile curls the unfamiliar lips now. A smile he knows, on a face he doesn’t. “You think I’d just disappear?” 

“You kinda did already.” 

“Right. Sorry about that.” 

Bucky sighs, running his hand through his hair. “It only took me about two days to figure it out. It was a bad two days though.” 

“I really am sorry, Bucky,” you say, quieter now. “These things have to be...thorough.” 

“I figured.” 

“Will you forgive me?” 

Bucky presses his lips together to keep from smiling, as he glances back at you out of the corner of his eye. “I will. Because I love you, and I don’t want something as inconsequential as death to come between us.”

Your laughter rings out.  

“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” he asks next.  

“‘Course not. I’m gonna need you more than ever, you know. Plus I know I'll never find another bum as cute as yours.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes as you chuckle at your own joke.  

“It’ll be a struggle though,” you say with a little dramatic sigh. “I’ll have to start using my real name again.” 

“Tough,” he teases. “You could change that too, you know.”

“I could. Sounds like a bother, though.” 

“I mean…” Bucky trails off for a moment, and then takes a deep breath. “If we’re gonna stay together, you could change it. You know, so we match.” 

The smile on your face broadens. “I could be convinced.” 

“You wanna stay in New York?” 

You shrug. “Not really.” 

“Well, when you decide, just let me know and I’ll pack my boxes.” 

Though looking away again, trying to appear casual, Bucky can feel your potent gaze on his face. “You want to leave?” you ask back. 

“I want to be with you. Even if it means leaving New York and the Avengers. It'll be boring without you, anyway.” He winks in your direction. You giggle back.  

“Might be boring with me, too. Had to turn in my Glock.” 

“I’ll buy you another one, if you want.” 

“Nah, you don’t need to. My pension’s good. SHIELD may go through dead agents fast, but we’re paid pretty well for it.” 

Bucky grins. “You gonna be my sugar mama?” 

“You want me to?” That sparkle in your eyes - though the eyes are different - the expression is the same. Another lump lodges itself in his throat as he watches.  

“Are - um, are you still pregnant?” 

Your eyes flicker to the glass at your elbow. Water. Well, that answers that. Bucky lets loose a sigh of relief.  

“I was worried - the explosion - ” 

But you cut him off with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have gone through with it if there was danger. Besides, it takes more than a flimsy explosion to get rid of your offspring, Buck.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

Shaking out your wig, you uncross your legs and hop down from the stool. With a wicked grin at Bucky, you quirk a brow and ask, “Take me upstairs? My bio code has changed.” 

“Don’t you think it’ll be suspicious if I leave a funeral with a new girl?” he asks, even though he’s winding his fingers through yours already. 

“No one knew about us but the team,” you remind him. “And they already know I’m still alive. Probably.” 

Bucky chortles, falling into step with you towards the elevator to the upper levels. The solemn chatter is left behind, and he doesn’t mind one bit. Into the lift, and once the doors close he tugs you close, leaning his head down to sniff your perfume - that, at least, hasn’t changed. But he can’t kiss you - another look at that biomask you’re wearing, and he blanches.  

“What, don’t you like my new look?” you tease, tugging him closer by the lapels of his jacket.  

“Er - this isn’t going to be a permanent thing, right? You don’t have to get plastic surgery?” 

You laugh. “No - but I’ll probably change up my hair. Just for fun. I hear pregnancy hair is to die for - I can’t imagine how lucky I’ll be with super-serum to boost it even more.” 

“I knew it,” Bucky grumbles good naturedly, his fingers finding your waist and giving an affectionate squeeze. “You’re just in this for my super serum.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault your sperm immunized itself to my birth control. A girl’s allowed to take advantage!” 

The elevator dings, and with some shared laughter he half-drags you off, towards the common area. The others had ducked out of the memorial early, too - Bucky stalls in his steps at the sudden gazes of the rest of the team - Steve, Natasha, Clint and Sam - sprawled on couches, still in their formalwear.  

“Wow, Bucky. You didn’t wait long,” Clint snaps after a startled moment.  

“Told you he’d figure it out,” Natasha says with satisfaction, holding out her hand to Steve and wiggling her fingers. “Pay up.” 

Steve sighs, and leans over to dig out his wallet.  

“You look good, 28,” Sam teases, toasting in your direction with his drink. “Not better. But good, considering you’ve been dead for a week.”

“Wait,” says Clint. 

“Oh, big deal,” Steve says sardonically, handing Nat a bill. “She died, get over it, I was dead for decades. Really loses its excitement when you work on a team like this.” 

“Thank you,” Natasha says smoothly, tucking the crisp twenty into her blouse.  

“Finally,” you mutter, and reach up to remove the biomask. A startling array of pixels, and then it’s your familiar smile beaming around. Until that moment - Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure. Just hopeful. And wondering if his desperation is making him lose his mind. But nope. As you shrug off your black blazer to toss on the couch, his heart leaps from his chest -  

It’s true. You’re here. You’re home. Mission’s over. For good. 

“You gonna stay here for a while, then, Agent?” Steve asks.  

“Oh, I’m not an agent anymore,” you correct him, as Bucky slings an arm over your shoulder. A mischievous smile lights your face. “I’m - ”

~

To Bucky’s relief - mostly - after pleasantries and jokes were exchanged with the rest of the team, you insisted on going to bed. To sleep. You’d explained that you’d taken a red-eye flight into New York City from Istanbul, and were, understandably, exhausted. Burning one’s identity is a tiring task, which Natasha readily agrees with - and Bucky, too. Maybe a little grudgingly.  

“Those silly masks are more uncomfortable than they look,” you tell Bucky ruefully, as he trails behind you into his bedroom. Shedding off your layers of clothing as if you haven’t been away at all - he watches with bugged eyes, standing dumbly in the middle of the room as you fluff out your hair. 

“I believe you,” he says, as an instinctive response. You flash him a grin, as you dig around in dresser drawers for pajamas. Had you even been away? Bucky’s beginning to question his sanity.  

“I had a great lunch on my way over from the airport though,” you muse. “So, nap time for me. And no, you’re not invited.” This is punctuated with a wink, and you crawl into the bed. “FRIDAY, close the curtains, would you?” 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

No more Agent. Bucky’s eye twitches.  

“Need anything?” he asks at last.  

“I’ll need food and water eventually, I suppose,” you yawn. “If Sam palmed any of my combat knives from downstairs, get them back for me, would you? Those are mine. Not SHIELD’s. Can’t be confiscated.” 

Bucky chortles. “Oh, I’d be more than happy too, babe.” 

Your voice is sleepy. “Figured you would.” 

Not that Bucky is entirely certain how the super-serum works for you - but when you sleep for the next twenty-six hours, it seems relatively usual. Both he and Steve can go several days longer than normal without sleep - but when the time comes to recoup - it’s brutal. Even waking you up for nourishment is a challenge. But your mood is good enough, at least. Even if you pass out again straight afterwards.  

It’s sometime after midnight, and Bucky is cleaning his guns in the kitchen of the Tower when you finally wander out. He glances up, unable to stop from smiling as he takes in your bedhead, a wrinkled robe, a loopy smile.  

“Hey,” you say. 

“Hey, yourself,” Bucky replies, very cleverly.  

“I’m starving.”

 Bucky puts his guns away, and gets to work.  

After an impressive eight-egg omelet (each), plus an enormous bowl of cut fruit, two glasses of milk and a half a loaf of bread worth of toast, you finally sigh and lean back in your chair.  

“I never knew what it was like to be hungry until now,” you confess, as Bucky swipes the last dribble of cheese from your plate. “Now I know how you feel all the time.” 

“You get used to it,” he teases.  

“I’m glad this is only a short-time deal for me.” 

“Me too. Then I can go back to not worrying whether you’re going to cause me serious harm.” 

Your brows lift, eyes twinkling all the same. “You’re worrying about that?” 

“Well, sure.” 

“Why? What’d you do?” 

“Ha,” Bucky says. “Nothing wrong, that’s for sure.” 

“Uh huh.” Your eyes flit to the clock on the wall, and sigh. “Yikes. Three a.m., and I’ve never felt more awake.” 

“Well, if you’re feeling it - I mean…” he trailed off, suddenly unsure as your gazes rests on him. Your lips are curled upwards - that’s a good sign. Bucky wiggles his eyebrows, and you burst into laughter.  

“I’m definitely feeling it. Think we can busy ourselves until dawn?” 

Bucky crumples his napkin in his hand, standing abruptly. “I can think of a few ways we can do that.” 

More than a few. Many. Every last particle of agony, of grief, of missing you so bad he thought his heart was going to burst into a million pieces - every last bit needs accounting for. Every bit of your skin memorized again. Every moan, every whimper, every way you say his name. And new learning, too: your belly is firmer than it was.  

However awake you were earlier, dawn sees you dozing off, half-hanging off the side of the bed where Bucky had made you squirm all tired and sleepy until your protests turned to soft breathing, and he’s left nuzzling the back of your neck as sunlight begins to send shafts of gold into the room.  

He extracts himself from around you. You don’t stir. The softest slide of drawer as Bucky peeps into his bedside table, and then he tiptoes around the bed. 

You’re glowing in the dim light, a dazed sort of smile still on your lips. Never more beautiful - Bucky’s heart does a stutter and a flip, and it feels delicious. 

Your hand is hanging towards the floor. Perfect. Scrunching his nose in concentration, Bucky c - a - r - e - f - u - l - l - y slides the metal band onto your fourth finger. He’s holding his breath - and nearly jumps ten feet in the air when you stir.  

“Whassisit,” you mutter, squirming as your hand flies to your face to rub your eyes. Which pop open, and you stare at the ring on your finger. Bucky panics.

“I was, uh…” he clasps your hand, yanking off the ring as your bemused gaze turns to him. “Seeing if it fit.”

“Oh yeah?” Mischief making your eyes bright, you prop yourself up on an elbow, and Bucky swallows thickly.  

“Yeah. Um, just for fun.” 

“For fun,” you repeat. Your smile is growing. “Bucky, that’s my grandmother’s ring.” 

“A replica,” Bucky blurts.  

“No, it’s not.” You laugh. “You think you can live with a secret agent and she won’t notice when you call her dad and ask for a ring, and then hide it in your bedside table? It’s a rookie mistake!”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. “You go through my stuff?”

“Everyone in the Tower has gone through your stuff at least once,” you say, laughing more as you swing your legs over the side of the bed to sit up. “Natasha? Four or five times, probably. Remember the sort of people who live here?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and lumbers back to his feet, ring clenched tightly in his fist. 

“Hey,” you say, holding out the palm of your hand expectantly, quirking a brow up at him. “That belongs in my family. Give it back.”

Bucky sniffs. “I don’t think I will.” 

A pause. “No?” you ask, and your voice is low and dangerous - but the glint in your eye far too smug - and Bucky gulps.  

“Don’t do it,” he says abruptly, backing up slightly as you stand slowly. “Babe, come on - think of the babies - ” 

But you’re too light-footed - and too enhanced - he yelps as you take a leap towards him, and a half-second later your thighs are clenched around his head (a familiar position, though an unfamiliar circumstance), your too-strong fingers reaching for his fist as Bucky flails. One elbow is wrapped around his throat - fondly, not threateningly - and he pretends to fight for breath. You’re laughing - clearly not buying it.  

“Get off!” he chokes, but despite himself - he starts laughing as he nearly loses his footing.  

“Give it back!” 

“No! Get off!”  

“Bucky!”  

“Babe!” 

A knock at the door, and he freezes - and you do, too - then it opens with a crash, and Sam, huffing and puffing with temper in his rumpled pajamas, takes in the sight of two naked, wrestling agents (well, only one agent now, technically), as Bucky feels his face turn hot. Then Sam’s eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his face.  

“You two,” he begins, loud and furious, pointing a finger in almost the right direction. “Woke! Me! Up!” 

“Sorry,” you say, voice trembling to keep from laughing. “Bucky, ah, filched a family possession of mine.” 

“I don’t care, you freaks - ” 

“Go away, Wilson,” Bucky says good-naturedly. “I’m tryin’ to propose to my girl.”

“Like that?” 

“Go away, Wilson,” you repeat. “I’m trying to let my man act like he’s super slick - ” 

“Try harder,” Bucky mutters, pinching your foot.  

“Seriously. I almost liked it better when she was dead,” Sam says vehemently, bumping into the doorframe as he turns to leave - eyes still covered. Then there are more footsteps, and  Steve’s head pokes into the doorway next - and he immediately squeezes his eyes shut. Bucky swears.  

“Hey,” Steve says, face red as a tomato. “Who left all the dishes in the sink?”

A Real Epilogue

Six months later. 

“Drat.”  

The doorknob is still in your hand, along with several inches of jagged door, splintered wood where it had broken off. Meanwhile the remainder of the door shudders to a stop, protesting the brutal treatment. Your ears still ring from the snap of wood, and you wince.

That’s the second time this week.

Oops.  

Waddling from the bathroom to the living room, you can hear quite plainly the shuffle of Bucky’s socks on the floor in the kitchen, the twist of a jar opening. It gets annoying, the super-hearing.

“How many sandwiches you want, babe?” Bucky calls. 

“Um - three. One for each of us.” 

“You got it.” 

The television is muted, and you sit on the couch with a sigh. Six months you’ve waited for this day - and there’s no way a little accident from a flimsy doorknob is going to ruin it. Propping your feet up, you turn the volume back on, gnawing at your lip as the newscaster begins to speak.

“Hey, you could’ve waited for me,” Bucky says crossly, wandering into the living room with two plates.  

“I could’ve, but the news won’t,” you retort.  

“Fair.” He hands you a plate - which you accept eagerly. It’s been an hour since your last meal and already your stomach is growling again. Growing babies is hard work. Gotta keep your strength up.  

Bucky’s feet join yours on the table, and finally the newscaster introduces the trial.  

“The indictment of Thomas P. Renlen began today at the Manhattan County Courthouse. Renlen, accused of conspiring with the supposedly defunct secret society Hydra, along with other crimes such as smuggling, theft, kidnapping, and murder - has pleaded guilty.” 

“Good,” you say, around a mouthful of sandwich. The screen switches to a shaky camera angle of several people exiting the courthouse - Renlen in the middle, his face repulsively familiar, flanked by angry looking lawyers. You scoff, and take another bite. 

“Renlen has criminal ties with the felon Ricky Coates, who is currently in prison in London, and Alexander Pierce, who led Hydra for years before his death. We spoke with an expert, who predicts that the trial will last less than a day, with evidence mounting up, and public discord against him…”

“He doesn’t look so good,” Bucky comments. Likely referring to the baggy skin around Renlen’s eyes, and the baggy suit he was wearing.

“Why would he?” you ask, amused. “Lost his job, and now he’s going to jail. “And I popped his eardrums on my way out of the bunker in Honduras. See how he winces when people shout at him? That’s not just sensitivity to noise - that’s still healing. He’s got scabs around his ears, see?” 

“Ouch. That's harsh.” 

“He put a mind control drug in my system, kidnapped me, and tied me up,” you point out. “And he didn't like my jokes.” 

Bucky chortles. “The real crime.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“It’s thanks to the Avengers that we were able to nab Renlen in the first place,” a government security expert is saying on the television now. “He’s slippery as they come. The CIA nearly got him back the 80s, but under a different name. At the time, he - ” 

“I think that was all the new news,” you say with a sigh, and lean over with a grunt to grab the remote. The screen goes blank. 

“Heard from Fury?” Bucky asks, after a moment.  

“Nah - he’s not exactly the ‘let’s catch up over coffee’ type.”

Bucky grins. “Well - he’s testifying next week on your behalf. Though to be fair, I’m pretty bummed you won’t be there. I’d love to see you take the witness stand - Renlen would never know what hit him.” 

You can’t help laughing - but that strains your back, and so you stop. “I was never allowed to testify for SHIELD,” you admit. “My identity was that secure. Would’ve been fun, though. I’ve been told I have a disconcerting presence when I want to.” 

“You do,” Bucky says, nudging with an elbow in the side as his eyes glint down at you. “The first few times I saw you I wasn’t sure if you were gonna cut off my balls or grab them. Nicely.” 

“Wow, thanks for that imagery. And those excellent ideas.”

“Weren’t meant to be ideas, babe.” 

“Too late now.” You like a bit of mustard from your thumb, adding nonchalantly, “By the way, I broke another door.”

Bucky lifts his head, blinking fast in bafflement. Then he leans forward on the couch to peer around the corner - and sees the hole in the bathroom door. He groans.  

“Again?” 

“Yes, again, you goof. Don’t pretend like you never get klutzy,” you say severely, poking his knee. He laughs, and reaches over a hand to pat the swollen circumference of your belly. 

“Not this klutzy,” he teases. “You’re just...extra special.”

“Watch it, buster. I may be pregnant and retired, but I can still kick your butt all the way to Miami.” 

Bucky snorts. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Wise man. 

You start on your last sandwich, as he glances over at the broken door again. “I’m not sure if I can fix this one,”  he admits. “Might have to buy a new door.”

“On the insurance claim you can list the cause as ‘super sperm.’” 

“That’ll go over well.” 

“About as well as Clint’s stand up at Nat’s birthday party last year - you remember that?” 

Bucky laughs. “What are you talking about? You loved it!” 

“Well, I have a very strange sense of humor. Jokes about eggplants and lawn mowers? Count me in.” 

“You know, I’m not even sure I understand that joke now. And it’s been months.”

You set your empty plate on the coffee table, satisfied as you glance over at Bucky with a grin. “I’ve tried explaining it to you at least four times,” you tease. “I don’t think it’s my fault anymore.” 

“Ha, ha.” 

Undaunted by his good-natured glower, you curl up next to him as he sets his plate aside, too. Then Bucky lifts an arm, offering you a space in his embrace. You take it happily - ignoring that most of you doesn’t fit - and sigh as he kisses the top of your head. Curling your fingers around his knee, Bucky winds his metal fingers around yours - the ting! of metal against diamond makes you chuckle. 

“Amused?” His voice is low and gravelly in your ear, making you shiver a little. 

“Always. That’s why you love me, isn’t it?” 

Bucky tilts his head slightly to study your face, clearly baffled. “Hmm?”  

“Because you’re too solemn and I’ve never taken a single thing seriously in my life.” 

He obliges you with a laugh. “You think that’s why I love you? Really?”

“Well, that, and my sexy bod - ” 

“Very sexy.” 

“ - and my skill with the blade - ” 

“Never seen you use a sword, babe. Knives are good, though.” 

“ - and my singing - ” 

“Eh…” 

“ - and how I can rip doors off of their hinges - ” 

“Loved you long before you could do that, silly girl.” 

“ - and you especially love me because,” you nuzzle your nose to the skin of Bucky’s neck, and he twitches, eyeing you suspiciously. “I let you accost me in the bathrooms and rip my clothes off.” 

Bucky’s laugh rings out. “You like that, and don’t you dare pretend otherwise.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” 

His words hang in the air like the thickest honey; sweet and golden and shining until the warm feeling in your chest, of freedom and peace and love - builds and builds until there’s nothing left in the world that could disrupt it, ever again.

[mulder-isms]

The playlist - thorcid fanfic

A\N: This fic addresses Thorgy leaving for AS3 and how this will affect his relationship with Acid. Also shalaska is briefly mentioned, since one of my main inspirations for this was this pic

Also this is a fic comes with a playlist ( clever, huh?) and I strongly recommend you guys to listen after reading the it 👌

Feedback is always welcome and slaps in the face too!

*

Shane witnessed many sunsets, but he was more drawn to sunrises. They meant you get a new chance again, to start from scratch.

His absolute favorite was the view from his grandfather’s porch in Norway, back then when he was too young to get struck by the beauty of the most common phenomenon in nature. As adults, we are always looking up to sky, to catch a breath when everything is too overwhelming or simply to find an answer in heaven for the fresh new hell of the day.

In 2011, his dearest was from the top of his apartment. The rooftop became his favorite hideaway to smoke weed, to enjoy the few moments of silence in the city and to throw parties after Saliva nights. Sharon Needles was the guest queen tonight and the whole Haus of Haunt was there mingling with the Brooklyn folks.

The day was rising and everyone seemed exactly what they were, the true colors of the creatures of the night, pale faces with smudged make up and outfit remains, being exposed to the light coming from the East. It was a gentle exposure, the yellow mixing with soft strokes of pink and blue shades. The night before was hot and Shane was wearing the minimum. A black tank top and shorts, barefoot. He was sitting on the floor, resting his back on the low wall of the edge. Everything was still a bit blurry, he wasn't wasted, but in that languid state that comes after a long night of drinking.

We found love was playing for the hundred time. He was observing a photographer friend taking pictures of Sharon, while fumbling the first cigarette of the day. There was nothing left, he realized observing the astray full of ashes on the floor and the empty package. Sharon was walking towards his direction and sat on the floor. Aaron wasn’t much different from Sharon. He was still pale, cartoonish thin, and looked like he didn’t belong to that period of time or any time ever.

“You’re out too?” he asked making a gesture of holding a cigarette and Shane nodded.

Aaron sat by his side staring at the sunset, splashed with the new colors.

“You have quite a view here” Aaron added resting his chin on his forearm. Then he made a Nosferatu impersonation. “Look, Thorgy, thanks for letting me and Lasky crashing here these couple of days. I have to make this trip to L.A, for the prosthetic course and I could surely save the hotel money and-

Aaron noticed Shane’s face full of disbelief.

“If the rumors are true money won’t be a problem for you for a long time” Shane scoffed. Rumor has it Sharon was in the cast for Rupaul’s Drag Race. The show was becoming a hit in the LBGT community and getting bigger. Thorgy auditioned one more time, and by his own math, he was sure he didn't make it.

“Look, do you really think they would cast a freak like me? I spill blood on my performances and my boyfriend lets people piss on him on stage…”

Shane chuckled and observed Alaska talking to some queens in the back. She was still in full drag, black panties and a bra and an even more exaggerated Divine make-up.

Maybe the world wasn’t ready for them yet.

“How do you do that? Two queens in love must be a messy mess. But you guys are so passionate…from what I unfortunately heard…thin walls” he tilted his head in a suggestive way.

“Love is a mess. We’re people. Dressed as clowns and craving for more attention than usual, but just people” Aaron shrugged and draw his attention to the horizon again.

Shane took few seconds to sink the casually profound meaning of his words. He was there, bare. He was a person. Sometimes it was hard for him to peel all the layers, to let people see him. Since he was a child he tried to divert everyone else to see him. His instruments were shields that make beautiful sounds and drag covered him completely.

“Look at these beauties contemplating the birth of time!”

His photographer friend was pointing the camera at them and Shane started to protest covering his face.

Sharon tapped on his thigh excited, “Girl, let’s pretend we have discovered the meaning of all this bullshit. To our future stardom right there on that goddamn stinky corner”

Shane giggled and agreed. They positioned themselves as the camera lens captured the moment, the pink lighting illuminating their wishful thinking. In Brooklyn there was still a lot of green, the tall gray buildings cutting the view from behind. The Tribute in Light set where the Twin Towers once stood was translucent and yet radiant, a constant memento that we’re more than what meets the eye. In the light of morning it was completely turned off, not a single trace of what was there.

“The Twin Towers now can only be seen at night…” he spoke loud almost in a whisper. But Aaron heard and agreed.

“Just like us”

*

Jamin knew something strange was happening the minute Shane went quiet. It was never a good sign. That man was transparent. All his emotions were obvious, a sort of childish trade that Shane never grow out of it. Jamin knows when he cooks something terrible because every time Shane immediately makes a face or bluntly spit it. He knows when Shane is close to come because, because grins with eyes shut, and bites his lower lip to not moan louder. All his emotions tracked down.

He was cast to All Stars 3.

He confessed during dinner. They were having a pasta Beckie made and Jamin brought the leftovers. Jamin couldn’t be more happy, but Shane stood there motionless, as if waiting permission to be excited about it.

“You know, somehow I was waiting for you to answer me too, bitch and that we would be together again stuck in that fake brick prison again. I wonder if people know about us. It would make good television!” then he pretended to announce it like it was the news on TV, “Brooklyn sweetheart saves Bitter Betty from terminal loneliness”

Jamin rolled eyes shaking his head. Shane grabbed Jamin’s forearm excited midway while he was moving the fork into his mouth.

“We could make out on that huge table, ugh, I can’t believe you’re not going with me.”

“Shane, we’ve had this conversation before. I knew it wasn’t going to happen” he scoffed forking his noodles again and hoping not to be interrupted. Shane still was grabbing his arm, but the pressure was getting softer.

“Imagine that, I would be like “Betty is terrible. We’re getting married after the show”. Edit that motherfuckers!”

Jamin laughed against his will, and felt his stomach swirl but kept looking at his food. The whole weight of Shane’s stare on him.

“You’re going to organize that closet. And gather new outfits.” he trailed it off.

“I’m still sinking in that this is really happening, I’m trying to keep the freak out levels at the minimum.  Kirk is coming this week to help me because I don’t even know where to start and I’m travelling next week for that wedding and…I miss you already. What the fuck I’m doing? I can’t do this again. I’m gonna bomb this so hard”

“Hey hey…”

Jamin was the one now reaching for Shane’s hand over the table.

“Stop it. I’m here, and I’ll be when you come back too. Whoever they are you’re gonna slay them all”

Then he fetched the dishes from the table while Shane stood there, hugging his knees still thinking about what to come. Jamin pick up some of the sauce of his plate with his finger and brushed on Shane’s nose and cheeks. He stood there not amused trying to not laugh but he ended up letting go a soft chuckle.

“Here’s your first look. Queen of condiments” he teased him leaving him on the table taking the dish to the sink.

*

After spending the whole day cleaning up the pile of thrift treasure that was his apartment with Kirk, the place was now filled with boxes everywhere and Shane was completely drunk. His cleaning partner was on the couch already passed out when Jamin arrived.

Jamin reached the conclusion that the living room looked bigger, even with so many boxes lying around. He had a funny expression behind the thick arrow glasses while scratching the chin.  

Shane knew he looked more homeless than ever, still with his comfy pants, sweaty and his hair. He didn’t even want to think about it. The last time he went to to the hairdresser he chose really long dreads and he was trying to tame them.

“Did you guys leave any wine left?” Jamin asked putting his backpack down on the couch and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Kirk didn’t even answered. Shane was finishing doing the dishes. They had two boxes of pizza and he was still full. Jamin approached him from behind kissing his shoulder blade.

“I’m disgusting” he flinched with his touch but Jamin didn’t mind, pushing away his dreads and nuzzling on his nape, hugging him from behind. Jamin was so tender with him all the time he wondered if he was covered in mud he would still want to touch him. He smiled sweetly by the thought. “Kirk saved a bottle for you because I have no self-control.  I’m taking a shower and we can go to the rooftop?”

Jamin that was concentrated in the beginning of Shane's jaw line stopped the kissing, “Wasn’t it blocked?” he asked confused.

“Not anymore! The ledge is not broken anymore” Shane replied finishing the last plate but Jamin seemed not convinced.

“Bitch, if that thing breaks down down my fat ass won’t be enough to save us both to crash down on the concrete”

Shane turned to face him and squeezed his ass with both hands pretending to analysing the possibility.

“I think it would” he replied giggling.

“Ah-hem”

The tall redhead was behind them with bag on her shoulders ready to leave and they quickly broke the embrace. Jamin went to the fridge to grab some water and Shane started fixing the elastic band in his hair. She knew about them but it didn’t mean they could feel up each other in front of her.

“I’m leaving. Please, continue your...security measures” She added laughing. Shane took her to the door feeling his cheeks burning.

*

Shane’s rooftop was still his favorite hideaway. It wasn’t glamorous at all, it only had some washed out beach chairs, plant vases from the neighbors, and a table that was there since Shane moved in. But being there had a whole meaning. It  meant that it wasn’t freezing. That he could have a cigarette with Alvy after dinner and talk about each other's family issues. That he could have deep conversations with Jamin under the moonlight that would end up with him sleeping in the middle of it.

They brought an old mattress to the place, a bottle of wine and some cigarettes. Shane was resting his head on Jamin’s thigh and drinking directly from the bottle. Jamin seemed far away taking a puff on his cigarette and caressing Shane’s forehead.

His fingers were cold and soft. He didn’t have callus like Shane. He loved his hands and all the things they could make him feel. He stared deeply at the sky and he could swear it was full of stars even though this was impossible in New York.

“Were you really mad after you lost that Legend awards? I was thinking about it these days…I” he stuttered feeling confused with the alcohol still running on his blood. He positioned himself sitting and facing Jamin, with crossed legs. “I don’ want you to feel like I’m stealing something from you. Because we both want this. That’s how I felt, like, I was really happy about winning but I know how much it meant to you. And you, oh my god, you blew my mind since I was that busted obnoxious twink. When you talked to me for the first time in that club I thought you’re were going to rip my head off…you were SO fierce”

Jamin took a few seconds to understand Shane’s rambling and where did it come from.

“Thorg, I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad with...Brooklyn in general. You know I wasn’t in good terms with the girls back the and I knew they wanted to see me crack, that's the fucking truth. And being the sensible flower that I secretly am…” his voice dropped down those octaves in a funny way, “Well, I did” he shrugged not bothered.

“I don't know, I was afraid this would backlash somehow, I know I’m crazy, but I keep thinking you’re gonna leave any second…I even made a playlist of heatbreaking songs for you to hear when I’m away that will make you feel bad by the thought of leaving me.”

Jamin laughed shaking his head putting the cigarette away and bringing Shane to lay again, locked between  his arms closer to his chest. He looked down at Thorgy worried face.

“I would plug in if I could touch my ears, but I can’t” he reassured  Shane shaking him a bit, Shane laughed getting out of his embrace.

“Asshole!” Shane uttered laughing and sitting again, drinking one more sip from the bottle. He was feeling brave enough to let it all out. “I was also freaking about with the possibility of facing another heartfelt lip-sync. You know, I have difficulties to get in touch with these emotions when I’m on stage…I feel so exposed? It’s like when that producer asked me to talk about my mom and I just couldn’t. I don’t want them to know this side of me-

Before he could engage in another monologue Jamin interrupted him.

“You need to stop feeling like you don’t deserve love. That people wouldn’t like you if you stopped making them laugh.”

Shane deep sighed closing his eyes in agreement. He was going to miss Jamin in that workroom so much taking him out of his nonsense.

“And you better be fucking prepared to bare your soul, because if my girl Chi Chi is in, well, that bitch is going to assassin everyone”

“I know, like shit” he drank again and Acid took it from his hands and finished the bottle.

Then Shane laid down resting his head on Jamin’s thigh again, staring at the sky once more. Somehow all the stars from before had disappeared.

*

Goodbyes were never easy for anyone but Jamin could handle them surprisingly well. He always kept in mind that was the natural course of things, that nothing could last forever. With Shane, it wasn’t a definite good-bye, but he knew everything was going to change after AS3. If the odds were in Thorgy’s favor, and Jamin deeply wished  they were, he  was going to back home with a crown.

Jamin had a valuable gift on his hand too.

The ring was in a box holographic box he made himself. It didn’t belong to anyone before him, this was all Shane’s to write their own story. He thought this through over and over again, trying to rewind their past like he could make sense of all their countless encounters through the years that didn’t seem significant. Nothing really important seems significant at the moment, and that's the tricky part of life. And somehow, all of these insignificant encounters were leading them to this tiny box inside his backpack.

Shane went to a friend’s wedding in Ohio and when he got home they barely saw each other. Leaving for Drag Race meant a lot of preparation and with all the cast rumors coming up he decided to disconnect completely. Jamin was there helping him with the process as much he could, but he knew his boyfriend, and knew he had a very strong point of view about how he wanted things.

It was all a mess until it wasn’t anymore. All set to go in a heartbeat.

Shane decided to throw a party, “make-up course cruise part II” to his closest friends before leaving for L.A. Everybody knew what was going on but they couldn’t talk about it. Some Brooklyn girls, Ruby, Ragga, Miz Jade, Lady Havokk and Alotta and the assistants. He saw his dad recently and stayed in his house was always good for him. All the support group he needed.

Most people there knew about them, but because of some of them that didn’t know they had to keep it down. They started drinking early because Shane’s flight was in the middle of dawn. Jamin wanted him all for himself, but everything happened so fast he didn’t have the time to think through. He knew the folks would stay there until the last minute.

“So, Acid, are you going to a make-up cruise too?”Alotta asked when they gathered up in the kitchen.

“For teaching them? Yeah!” he sassy replied taking a sip in his drink.

“Betty has a free schedule, but it doesn’t happen only when is AS3 disappearing season!” Miz Jade teased him.

“I’m sitting on a pile of Ru money now. Working is an option” he shrugged raising his brows in a smug way.

“Especially when you hit your age!” Allotta added and Jamin whispered a “bitch” through his drink shaking his head.

Everybody was laughing when Shane busted in the conversation in the small kitchen area.

“Get out of my kitchen, whores. I need my snacks. And take your seats because I’m performing in fifteen minutes”

The girls left the kitchen while Jamin stood there observing Shane emptying a bag of peanuts into a bowl.

“You are so being mysterious about this performance but I don’t see you getting dressed and ready in fifteen minutes. Tell me you’re not pulling me off stage to sniff my armpit or any other shit so I can be prepared.”

Shane opened a mischievous smile but didn’t say anything.

“You better take your seat” he warned him proud of himself patting on his shoulder and leaving with his peanuts bowl. Jamin rolled his eyes and followed him to join the rest of the group in the living room.

*

Few minutes later Kirk was setting Shane’s cello in the middle of the living room. Jamin was relieved that he was going to play something so his hands would be busy to not pull anyone from the audience.  He was curious about the number though.

It was a common scene to see Shane playing around the house. Lately the cello was getting especial attention, maybe because it needed more practice since he learned by himself. Every time he made a mistake he would go through it over and over again until Jamin would make a comment for him to stop.

Jamin couldn’t notice the mistakes but he needed him to understand that even in classical music the little imperfections are what makes every musician unique. And the comment was followed by an annoyed shut up anyways.

Shane arrived in the room fully dressed as if he was playing at the Carnegie Hall. All suited all in black and white and people were clapping and whistling with the unusual attire. It was perfectly fit for his long and slender figure. He was wearing a headband to keep all the dreads tidy and neat but they were part loose. He fixed his glasses before sitting and winked at Jamin when their eyes met.

Kate, one of Shane’s friends stood up and was going to introduce him.

“Since we have such a big hall to play tonight I’m going to sing this a capella, so don’t judge me too hard” the brunette with curly black hair seemed a bit nervous,  Jamin didn’t know much about her but the fact she was an excellent singer.

She nodded at Shane giving him the sign that she was ready. He closed his eyes and the whole room went quiet. The somber cello notes started resonating in the place. He opened a sweet and sort of smug smile, every musician has the playing-the-instrument-face and Shane’s couldn’t be cuter.

“And I’m telling you…I’m not going…you're the best man I'll ever know, there's no way I can ever go…no no no…”

Everybody started clapping but Jamin couldn’t even move completely in awe. Kate had a sultry but sad tone, and their version was lower than the original. She continued singing and he kept his eyes closed, but his face was making many expressions. Sometimes he would even lip-sync a bit.

This was the exorcism Shane needed.

Jamin knew Thorgy was ready. So ready to get what she deserved.

“I don’t wanna be free, I’m staying, I’m staying! And you, and you, and you, you're gonna love meeee”

She ended the song not belting her lungs out, but almost pleading. It was a beautiful redemption of the song. Jamin tried to keep his eyes from watering up. When the last notes stopped everyone was clapping and Shane finally opened his eyes and bowed to his small audience.

Chi Chi’s ghostly figure fading away in Jamin’s memory. All he cared about was that man in front of him. There was no way indeed.

*

Once again they were in the rooftop. Only Ragga stayed because she needed to check if everything was really there for the hundred time and she released Shane from his duty to spend some time with Jamin.

Shane brought the old mattress to the rooftop again, but it was a bit chilly so he brought a blanket too. Jamin was stood up smoking and leaning on the ledge. Shane was tired of carrying the thing throughout flight of the stairs and just threw it absently the thing on the floor, next to the a small cabin where the electricity system of the building was. Jamin was wearing a black t-shirt and shorts with sneakers, a look that was quiet Shane's weakness. He was still wearing the black slacks and the white dress shirt, but the sleeves were rolled up and he was getting rid off the bow tie walking towards Jamin that was staring at him from up to bottom.

“Don’t take it all off” Jamin asked him taking a puff in his cigarette and raising his brow.

Shane stopped midway letting it around his collar like a towel. Then Jamin walked to the ending of the ledge where there was an outlet and turned on the switch. And the whole length was lit by colorful lights.

“Ta-da!” he opened his arms and threw the cigarette out. Shane’s face was beautifully lit by all the different lights, making his tiny eyes sparkle.

“Merry Christmas! Wooo!” he threw his arms up in the air giggling and Jamin approached him slowy just to grab him by the tie pulling him for a kiss.

Sometimes he wondered of their constant dance of leaving and coming back was the fuel, wrapping his arms around Shane waist almost swiping him from the floor and lowering him down to lay on the mattress. They never had sex on the rooftop because anyone from the neighborhood buildings could see them, and yet Jamin just couldn’t stop. His hands were unbuttoning Shane’s shirt while he was struggling to take his shoes off with Jamin all over him.

“Wait..” he asked giggling quite breathless pushing him away a bit so he could find a good angle to remove his shoes. But Jamin’s hand were inside his pants already. “Fuck!” he gave up midway of the process of taking the other shoe.

Jamin could feel he was little bit tense because the neighbors could come out any second. The buildings were so close they could easily talk to people from their balconies.

“So we’re really doing this…you’re getting me arrested before I-I- leave” he managed to whisper trembling while Jamin was nibbling on his chest and reaching for his throat. Shane was still dressed but the shirt completely open and his pants half down. Jamin just grunted impatiently and without further ado took Shane's cock inside his mouth urgently. Shane muscles finally relaxed and he collapsed on the mattress giving in.

He kept working on his cock until it was almost hurting, everything was so fast Shane’s body was still awaking with the urgent stimulation. Shane's were fingers inside Jamin’s black curls gently pulling them up and down, as he guided the pace. The feeling of Jamin's piercing reaching the right spot under his length.

The streets were quiet and all they could hear was the faint sounds of the cars and people on the street, and Shane's moaning. Jamin stopped finally going up for a kiss grabbing Shane’s face, his lips still glistening.

“Fuck me…” he finally said something, and Shane’s promptly answered his request helping Jamin taking off his shorts but when he tried to remove his shirt Jamin stopped him. “No need, just fuck me now” he commanded holding Shane’s wrist.

Shane laughed at his ungency and prompted himself over Jamin, between his bare legs, caressing them and scrathing, burying himself on his neck, placing all his weight over him. Shane searched for some lube inside his pocket and tried to rip the lube sachet but was failing miserably. Jamin took from his hands exasperated  ripping it. He put all the liquid on his hand and reached down for Shane’s cock, never leaving his eyes. He applied with both hands, using Shane almost as a new toy, rubbing him on his entrance, teasing as he couldn’t almost hold the weight of his body.

“Are you kidding me??” Shane pleased with closed eyes, a smile full of pleasure as Jamin lead him in and out slowly, but then he was done with the teasing pinned one of Jamin’s arm on the mattress and penetrating him completely, making him curl with pleasure clutching his free hand on Shane’s back.  He knew he wasn’t hurting him, even though it’s been too long.  But Shan knew he could play all his strings, he was just out of practice.

Shane was thrusting slowly and placing languid kisses on his jaw,  and he could feel Jamin less tense so he fastened the pace as he continued to moan higher, encouraging him to fast the pace, his heart beating like a drum. Shane placed himself in a kneeling position so that he could keep trusting and pumping him. He looked around between the colorful lights and he could see his neighbor watching tv in the living room completely clueless about what was happening. He lowered himself again, the adrenaline rushing and making him even more aroused.

Shane kept rubbing his body as close to Jamin’s as it was possible, and Jamin hugged him harder to make the friction even bigger. Jamin’s cock was being complete stimulated between them, so there was no need for using hands. Shane felt Jamin coming on his stomach, his belly all slit, his thighs trembling, his eyes complete shut and mouth open. Few thrusts later and he was following him, removing himself fast enough to explode on Jamin’s chest, stoking his cock quickly and gasping, still nervous that someone could be seeing them.

Jamin was still panting looking at Shane coming back from his trance, he was all sweaty and red.  His hair all frizzled up.

“Fuck...” he gasped laughing and laying next to Jamin. His black t-shirt was complete ruined. They stood there in silence, just breathing in the cold breeze of Williamsburg at night. The cold air making the sweat of their bodies evaporating.

Jamin was caressing Shane’s dreads and thinking about the ring he had on his backpack on the table. He wondered if this was good moment to propose. Walking to grab the ring, with no pants on and a t-shirt covered with cum. Better not. His legs were still a puddle.

“Do you think Ragga is going to be mad if I text her asking her to bring some clean clothes?” Shane asked already laughing tapping Jamin’s chest lightly. He chuckled but he could actually wear that.

“My backpack is on the table with clean clothes” he replied. Shane raised his brow impressed.

“You really thought this out, huh?” he inquired him standing up and pulling up his boxers and pants on again. Jamin took the opportunity to clean up a bit, using the blanket to dry his shirt a little and putting his shorts on again. He winced already feeling a bit sore.

Shane was fumbling his backpack when he found the holographic box. He froze and showed to Jamin curious. He knew what it was. Jamin kept observing him analyzing the box, his eyes sparkling.

“Nice package…” he muttered chucking softly. Jamin could feel he was nervous but he didn’t move. He kept sitting on the mattress waiting for Shane’s reaction. He finally opened the box to see the ring. It wasn’t gold, and it was actually a ring held by a necklace. Shane removed from the box carefully and he noticed the texture was quite different. His trained finger recognized immediately. Violin strings twisted in the shape of a ring. His eyes watered up but he tried to keep it cool.

“I made it myself, well, I stole some of your old strings and I tried, but it was bitch to deal with these damn strings so I let the professionals do the rest”

Shane was holding the ring with his two hands still speechless. Jamin got up and approached him to take a look at it too.

“Wear it in the show as a necklace and when you come back home with that crown I’ll put it in your finger”

Shane just nodded and held his hand swinging it. There wasn’t nothing to be said. The eyes was all over his face. His cellphone beeped with Ragga’s message. Shane took it to read.

“I’m quitting this job today”

Shane giggled showing it to Jamin.

*

He was up in the clouds again. The flight has been smooth so far. Heart full of hope, all nails gone from anticipation. He searched for his headphones inside his bag and there was a note from Jamin glued on them with tape and an iPad also tangled in the wires.

“This is my addition to the playlist”

Shane opened a smile plugging the headphones with the iPad and only one song. “Hey, there’s no way to say goodbye” from Leonard Cohen. Shane remembered the day the singer passed away and how sad he was, spending the whole day listening to his records and Jamin comforted him with ice cream. It was such a specific pick and so out of Jamin’s musical taste Shane was surprised how he remembered that song. That excruciating song.

“This bitch…”he muttered feeling the tears forming, shaking his head. The lady beside him giving the stank eye.

#rpdr fanfiction #thorgy thor #acid betty #sharon needles #alaska #shalaska #rupaul's drag race #smut warning

[baggubuggu]

Music on the wind 2 -- Drabble

Part 1 is here

I made Link into a bit of a butt in this, but he has good intentions. 

Link followed the echoing music, carefully traversing the dark cavern tunnel. The rocky cave wall was covered in a thin layer of crystalline and a faint reflection of light bounced down the walls. The music was definitely getting louder and much more clearer the further Link walked and he kept one arm readied for his blade.

After a few minutes, he came to an opening that led into a closed off cove. Inside, Link could hear the crackle of a fire. He cautiously peered inside and blinked in surprise. The room wasn’t very large--about the space of the first floor in Link’s house--but the emptiness was very noticeable. Aside from the bundle of firewood and a few skewered hearty bass, there was a makeshift bed made from leaves and grass and a single, thin blanket.

Seated on the pile was a Zora Link did not recognize. He was a mostly dark burgundy, aside from the white decorating his face, chest, thighs, and along the bottom of his arms, typical for every Zora he’d seen so far. On the Zora’s head ridge, there was a long barb protruding from the top, followed by a short and spiky trail of finnage that resembled a mohawk in appearance. The Zora had a pair of bright red bands under his eyes that stretched all the way down to his chin.

It was then that Link spotted the source of the music: a strange...guitar? The instrument had one regular arm, with strings attached at the head, but there was also an extra curved arm extended out from the body as well--it reminded Link of a fish’s tail due to how it curled--with bright blue strings running to that arm’s head. He had never seen such a weird looking instrument before, but the way the Zora skillfully played it was interesting.

Link noticed that despite how beautiful the melody was, the Zora sat in huddled manner--his legs tucked close to his chest and his eyes were squeezed shut. He studied the scene for a moment and sneakily tilted his Sheikah slate up. He activated the Camera rune and snapped a few pictures of the Zora as he played; it couldn’t hurt to have some proof.

The Hylian paused when he heard a screech of the instrument’s chords and a shriek followed it. The Zora was glaring at him with wide blue eyes and hugged the guitar to his chest.

“H-hey! How did...What are you doing here?!” The Zora’s voice cracked and it had a high-pitched tone.

Link waved, tucked his slate back on his waistband, and walked forward.

“Um? Hi?!” the Zora snapped and kept a guarded stance. He watched Link with suspicion and scooted back. “I don’t know how you got here, but please don’t?”

Link tilted his head, surprised by the Zora’s hostility, and he froze in place. He signed, ‘I like the music. What is that?’ and pointed to the instrument the Zora shielded from view. Link then moved his hands to his hips and watched.

“Erm.” He blinked several times and bowed his head in a shy manner. “It’s called a ukulele harp…”

‘Never saw one before!’ Link commented.

“Well, yeah,” he replied and rolled his eyes. “This was made way before Calamity Ganon ruined everything, so you probably will never see another one.”

Link nodded in understanding. ‘Are you going to play some music in the upcoming festival?’

“What?!” the Zora squeaked and laughed nervously. “Are you insane? Me participate in the Festival of the Wind Fish?! Do you know how ridiculous that--” His eyes narrowed and he stood up, placing the ‘ukulele harp’ on the blankets behind him. “Hey. Wait a second! You’re that Hylian that stopped Ruta. W-why are you here?”

‘Bazz wanted to find out who was playing the music,’ Link explained and gestured down to the instrument.

“Captain Bazz…?” The Zora swallowed and his eyes darted back and forth. “Oh man, he heard me playing? Ugh...Not good.”

Link waved to get the Zora’s attention after realizing he was glancing around nervously. ‘Bazz wants you to contribute to the Festival. Just didn’t have time to find out where the music was coming from.’

The Zora slapped a webbed hand to his face and groaned. “Good! Keep it that way. I can’t let anyone know.”

Link deadpanned. ‘...Why?’  He watched as the Zora approached the fire and retrieved one of the skewered bass.

He chomped down on the fish’s side and sank down before the flames. “Because, they’d all laugh...or...or...stare at me funny. Look, Mister Big Important Hero, you don’t understand. Everyone always gets mad at me because I’m lazy,” he explained, ending with air quotes. “It’s not my fault I like sleeping and eating. I just want to eat a nice fish and sleep somewhere quiet and play my ukulele harp alone. That way, I don’t have to think about anything.”

Link crossed his arms and cocked a brow down at the Zora.

“Don’t give me that look! It’s the same one Captain Bazz always has. And you should hear everybody else: ‘Ipo? More like Whypo.’ They’re all so disappointed in me, do you know what that’s like?” he ranted and slumped his shoulders down. His tail clamped tightly against his back and his fins all deflated into thin layers. “Why should I bother?”

‘Ipo?’ Link asked and pointed down at the Zora.

“Yeah,” he sighed and nodded. “That’s my name.” He waved the half eaten fish in Link’s direction. “Just...can you please, please not tell anyone about me being here or anything? I’m not playing in the festival, alright?”

The Hylian ‘tsk’ed at such a defeatist attitude and glanced back to Ipo’s harp. It was still momentarily discard behind Ipo and a idea flickered. Link slowly crept towards the bundle as Ipo gave off a mouthful of excuses why he couldn’t join in the festivities. He glanced to Ipo, making sure the the Zora was still distracted with eating, and gently scooped the ukulele harp in his arms. It was surprisingly lightweight for its size; covering all of Link’s chest with its body.

“--I mean, what if I mess up and everyone mocks me? No thanks!”

Link clutched the instrument against his front and paced around the Zora and the fire. He whistled to get Ipo’s attention, gave a brief show of the ukulele harp, and then darted towards the exit.

As expected, Ipo’s shriek echoed in pursuit.

“Hey! Give that back!” Link heard Ipo’s screech follow him as well as the tapping of rushed footsteps. “Don’t drop it!”

Link ran out of the tunnel as quickly as his legs would carry him, scrambling back under the waterfall as soon as he emerged into the open. He ran past the Dagah Keek shrine, hearing Ipo in tow, and got to work securing the ukulele harp to his person.

“Ack! What are you doing?!” Ipo cried, his voice shrill, as he chased after Link. His blue eyes were wide and his fins were flared in a panicked display. “You crazy Hylian! Gimme my ukulele harp!”

Link gave an innocent smile and waved at Ipo with a ‘come get it’ gesture and leaped off the edge of the rocky cliff. He whipped out his sailcloth and glided back towards Zora’s Domain, sending one last glance over his shoulder to Ipo.The poor Zora was screaming his head off, but Link had to give his idea a shot. As he descended down to the metal tower, Link scanned over the entire area, searching for a specific Zora.

He spotted Bazz standing in one of the eastern small lookout towers and turned the sailcloth into the breeze passing by, using it to carry him along. Link landed on the pathway leading to the trail of guard towers and waited. Bazz hadn’t noticed him; he was facing towards the throne room and kept a diligent stare on the rest of the domain.

Link unfastened the instrument from his body and he cradled it as he looked over the railing. He spotted a red blur swimming in the pond at the bottom of the domain’s foundation. The Zora had...jumped all the way down from the cliffside? Link hadn’t expected that.

He watched as Ipo swam to the closest waterfall connected to the platform of the first floor and darted up the stream. Ipo landed down with heavy oomph and glanced around wildly. He froze when he spotted Link standing on the path above him and glared. Link only smiled again and waved at Ipo.

There was a frustrated growl as Ipo took off again and ran for the quickest route. Link took a moment to look back at Bazz, but he was still staring away.

“You jerk!” Ipo’s voice cracked and he standing behind Link before the Hylian knew it. His pupils were slit and his fins flared out in an angry display. Link gave no resistance and immediately surrendered the ukulele harp to Ipo’s extended hands. He snarled at Link, lips pulling into a pout, and quickly examined the instrument inch by inch. “Do you realize how old this is?!” he demanded as he tilted it back and forth.

Link stole glance over his shoulder and watched as Bazz turned around. The captain immediately turned his attention on the pair as he heard Ipo’s outburst and made his way down the spiral path. Link jerked his head back to Ipo--who was still looking over the ukulele harp--and waited.

“Augh! My heart almost burst out of my chest!” Ipo whined as he plucked at each string, testing them. “My grandma got it when she was my age, so it’s survived three generations of my family. Maybe be more considerate of other peopl--ahhhh!” Ipo’s mouth clamped shut, his eyes were wide and his body grew stiff.

“Link?” Bazz’s voice came from behind.

Link spun around and looked at Bazz with an innocent expression.

“You’re back so soon?” Bazz blinked a few times and looked over Link’s shoulder to Ipo. “...Ipo? What a surprise. It’s nice to see you awake!”

Ipo made an embarrassed grumble and hugged his ukulele harp tighter.

“Wait, that instrument…” Bazz leaned closer and stared at Ipo with curiosity.

Link grinned and nodded. He pulled out his Sheikah slate, activated the Camera rune again and displayed one of the pictures he’d taken of Ipo.

“Ah! Link, I can’t believed you figured it out so quickly!” A tamed smile formed on Bazz’s face as he turned his gaze from Link back onto Ipo. The black Zora stepped closer to the other and held out a beseeching hand. “Ipo, is it true? Were you the one playing behind the Veiled Falls?”

Ipo swallowed, mouth still shut tight, and he nodded ever-so-slowly. His eyes were so bulged, they looked like they could easily pop out of his head.

“Will you consider playing in the Festival of the Wind Fish?” Bazz asked, looking very pleased and eager. “I’m certain everyone would love hearing you play. We’ll start the festival with a concert before King Dorephan and Prince Sidon and--”

Link noticed that Ipo’s hands were quivering. He looked like a startled deer.

“...Ipo?” Bazz paused and stepped closer.

Ipo surprised Link and Bazz with a sudden scream and he turned tail. He scrambled over the railway and jumped off the edge, plummeting all the way down to the lake below with a distant splash.

“Ipo!” Bazz leaned over the railing and stared down at the retreating form with a gaping mouth.

Link slapped a palm to his face. This...was going to be a tough one.

#Bugggu writing #Bugggu oc #Zora oc #Look there he is #The lazy anxious fish boi #Ilu Ipo #But Link will help you o/

[my-tatteredwingsof-freedom]

The Keith x Mothman fic no one asked for

Yep. I’m started a Keith/Mothman series and this is the first part.

Link to my Ao3 here 

Title: I Actually found him

Rating: G

Fandom: Voltron

Summary: Keith finds Mothman and their romance begins

West Virginia. Not the first place most people thought of when they decided to take a vacation, but Keith Kogane certainly wasn’t like most people. West Virginia was the ideal spot for him, and who cared if Shiro complained during the whole drive, or if Allura had looked close to mortified when Keith had told her they were going so he could find The Mothman? They were just boring anyways, if you asked Keith. That’s why they were in the hotel room and Keith was out doing the real work.

He’d been inside his small tent, flashlight in one hand and a book in the other for the past four hours. It was pitch black outside, nearing eleven. He had his sleeping bag wrapped tightly around himself and his laptop was running beside him, the screen displaying the image his cameras were recording outside. So far, he hadn’t seen anything other than some deer and birds, but he was patient.

He was actually really excited, and couldn’t help himself from checking the camera every few seconds. This was the first summer in...well, ever, that he had the money and the resources to actually do this. He was actually really thankful Shiro had agreed to come with him, even if his older brother had looked at him like he was crazy. Shiro wa supportive though, which was something Keith would be eternally thankful for. He’d make it up to Shiro and Allura as soon as they returned home. For now, though, he needed to find Mothman. That was the goal and he was pretty sure he’d cry if he didn’t find at least one small sign.

He’d been obsessed with The Mothman ever since he was in middle school, after catching one of those late night documentaries one saturday night when he and Shiro had been left home alone. There wasn’t really any way for Keith to explain why he had been so enamoured. Maybe it was the mystery behind it all, the fact that the creature had shown up and disappeared altogether. Or maybe it was the chaos that had followed after the creature’s visit. Maybe Keith just really, really liked weird, mysterious things. He was friends with Lance after all.

It was cold, though, even if it was summer time. Keith checked the screen again, met with the same nightvision scene from a few minutes earlier. He sighed and tossed his book aside, shutting off the flashlight as he settled into his sleeping bag for the night. It was quiet, but it was a kind of quiet that Keith welcomed. His and Shiro’s apartment was right on a busy corner by the college, so there was always noise. Not to mention they usually had a full house most days if they weren’t all busy with their studies. Lance and Hunk always made it a point to come over as often as possible, unless they were going on a date night, and Pidge and Matt were there nearly every weekend. They didn’t get quiet that often, especially at night, and Keith was honestly relieved.

It was almost comical that he would probably get the best night of sleep in his life while curled up in a ratty sleeping bag, in the middle of the woods in West Virginia. Unbelievable.

He drifted in and out of sleep, despite the ideal sleeping conditions presented to him. He wasn’t uncomfortable or anything, just unable to sleep. He kept lifting his head to check his computer screen only to groan softly when nothing appeared. He tried to ignore the disappointment gnawing at him; it was still early by cryptid time, wasn’t it? Surely Mothman wouldn’t be out yet. It was way too early and Keith had to be patient .

The ringing of his cellphone startled him out of a light sleep and he sat up, cursing under his breath as he felt around for his phone in the sleeping bag. He answered it, huffing. “Hello?”

“Keith, are you still out there?” Shiro sounded like he was getting ready for bed, voice heavy.

Keith blinked and rolled his eyes, running his free hand through his hair. “Yeah, where else would I be?”

“Right,” Shiro might have been smiling. “You sure you don’t want to come back to the hotel room? You might get cold or sick or something.”

“It’ll be worth it if I see him.” Keith replied with a lazy shrug, staring at his computer screen. Everything was the same as before; the woods were quiet and the camera showed nothing but still grass and a few gnats rushing by. “Besides it isn’t that cold; it’s about the same as it would be if we left the AC on in the apartment over night.”

Shiro hummed and Keith was sure he was worrying, as always. “Well, alright. Keep your phone on. Allura and I can come get you whenever if you change your mind tonight.”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Shiro.” Keith assured. “I’ll meet up with you two in the morning and- holy shit !”

“Keith?!”

Keith nearly dropped his phone, wide eyes locked on his laptop screen. He’d seen it! A red eyed blur flew right by the camera and he’d seen it!

“Keith!”

“Shit, Shiro, I just saw something on my camera and I’m dying.” He rushed out as he struggled out of his sleeping bag.”I’m gonna go check it out.”

“What? Keith, no! Stay in your tent if something’s out there!”

“Shiro, the whole reason I’m out here is for something to show up!” Keith was already pushing out of his tent, running towards the clearing up ahead where he had set up his camera. He could hear thrashing, like something big was struggling. “Holy crap it sounds huge.”

“Allura, get the keys- Keith go back to your tent!”

“Shiro, this is amazing!” Keith was grinning so wide that his face hurt. “Shiro, I’ll call you back.”

Shiro had started to reply but Keith hung up, shoving his phone into his sweater pocket as he ran faster. The thrashing sounds were louder now, followed by a startlingly loud screeching sound. It made Keith slow down as he followed the noise, stopping entirely by a tree. The tree hid his view, so wide that he probably couldn’t get his arms around it if he tried. He hesitated here and bit his lip, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

This...this was it. There was a fifty percent chance that when he stepped around this tree, the object of his dreams would be there in plain sight. However, that also meant there was a fifty percent chance that whatever was making that noise wasn’t Mothman, and Keith wasn’t sure how he would react to that. He ran a hand through his hair and steeled his nerves, sucking in a breath and running out from behind the tree.

The screeching sounds ceased, bright red eyes gawking at Keith in the moonlight. Keith let out a shaky breath and stepped closer, eyes following the outline of the black mass before him. It was writhing around, flapping wings wildly, and had it not been for the moonlight Keith wouldn’t have noticed the thick strings wrapped around the creature’s wings and torso and even it’s feet. Keith stood there, watching the creature thrash around, until those red eyes turned to him again, and he heard a soft, pleading coo come from the creature.

He blinked a few times and stepped closer, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “M….Mothman?”

It nodded it’s head jerkily, flapping it’s wings again and making the same soft, pitiful sound. Keith dropped to his knees and lifted a hand, hesitating before he gently stroked the top of Mothman’s rough, fuzzy head. “Okay, calm down. I’ll help you but you’ve gotta stop moving…”

Mothman grew still and it took Keith all he had not to jump for joy; Mothman understood him and listened to him! He smiled a bit and nodded, moving his hands down to feel at the thick strings wrapped around Mothman’s body. He squinted and pulled out his phone, shining the light at the strings. “Did you get caught in someone’s clothesline?” He asked softly.

Mothman squirmed a bit, the claws on his feet clenching and unclenching as he waited patiently. Keith leaned back and set his phone aside, reaching into the other pocket and pulling out the pocket knife Shiro had insisted he take with him; he’d have to thank Shiro later. The blade flicked open and Mothman jerked, making a loud screech as he started thrashing around again.

“Hey, no, it’s okay!” Keith rushed, gesturing to the knife. “I’m just gonna cut the clothesline, okay? I promise.” He set his free hand on the creature’s torso, watching as it grew still again. Red eyes narrowed at the pocket knife and then darted to Keith’s face and Keith smiled slightly. “I promise. I waited my whole life to see you; I’d never do anything to hurt you, Mothman. You just have to hold really still, okay?”

Keith took it slow, gently sliding the blade under the clothesline and sawing through it gently. Mothman waited patiently, though he was a bit stiff; Keith could understand, though. He was just glad he could keep his hands still enough considering how badly they’d been shaking only moments before. He was still in shock. Mothman was here. In front of him. Keith was helping Mothman. He was literally helping free the cryptid of his dreams.

He could die entirely happy right now.

When the last of the clothesline was cut off Mothman wasted no time standing up, towering high above Keith. Keith’s eyes widened and he leaned back, carefully putting his knife back into his pocket. “You’re taller than I imagined…”

Mothman tilted his head, wings stretching out before he tucked them into his sides. He stepped closer and Keith blinked, in awe at the creature’s height, at it’s wings and eyes, at it’s existence .

He didn’t realize he’d stood up until he was directly in front of Mothman, the creature peering down at him with wide, curious red eyes. Keith should have been terrified like any sane person would be. He should have ran away the second he heard Mothman struggling. He wasn’t ever really normal, though, so there was a part of him that wasn’t even surprised by his own reaction.

Mothman made a soft clicking sound, fluttering his wings a few times as he leaned his head down to bump it against Keith’s. Keith’s eyes widened and he looked up, smiling a bit as he let out a soft chuckle. “You’re...a lot friendlier than I thought...I always thought you’d run away if anyone saw you.”

Mothman made a sort of huffing sound, fluttering his wings again before opening them wide and stepping closer. Keith didn’t realize what was happening until the wings closed around him, pressing him into the Moth’s warm body gently.

Keith was ninety percent sure he was going to explode then and there. They’d have nothing to take home of him except for his phone and pocket knife. Shiro would keep the knife. Lance would probably sell his cell phone.

Mothman was hugging him.

That’s how Shiro and Allura found him, cradled in the wings of Mothman. Shiro had screamed, understandably, and had Allura not been there Keith was sure Shiro would have chased Mothman off with the flashlight he had. Allura had calmed Shiro down, mostly because she was more stunned about the moth than Shiro was. Keith had stood protectively in front of Mothman, and once Shiro had calmed down, Keith only muttered one stern sentence.

“He’s coming home with us.”

Shiro opened his mouth to argue, but the sight of a giant Moth creature standing behind his brother, red eyes locked on Shiro, made him stop. He frowned and then sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “...The back seat might be crowded.”

Keith was taking Mothman home.

Now his life was really starting.

#Skylar screeches #voltron #keith kogane #meithman #i have no excuses #im so sorry #klance