#much less with an insert rather than an oc but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sodalitea · 3 months

Text

I - Miracles of the White Nights [Il Dottore x Reader/OC]

For Valentine’s Day I’m sharing the first chapter of my longer fanfiction about Il Dottore and my Genshin OC Marie Snezhevna (this story can be perceived as reader insert type of thing; the characters' names play a big role in the plot and I decided to pick them by myself). In this chapter I have not provided the most detailed background of the current circumstances between Zandik and Marie, but I plan to do so in the future. I don’t really know if I’ll update it in any regular schedule, but for sure I’m going to continue this story. Meanwhile, enjoy!

TW: Minimally suggestive! Mentions of Marie's guesses about Dottore's true intentions. Summary: Small gestures make a big difference. Due to the long lasting effects of a serious argument with Il Dottore, Marie Shnezhevna gets degraded on the lower position in Haeresys despite being one of his most reliable workers in the lab. Three months later a ceasefire is established. Zandik finds surprising but efficient way to trick her into getting promoted again. Don't repost my artworks/writings please! I'll appreciate likes, comments and reblogs. I am the author of both text and signature illustarion. ♡ English is my second language, there may occur some grammar issues!

AO3 link

I - Miracles of the White Nights

“The days in Snezhnaya seem identical. Wherever you go, you will find your hair and eyelashes frozen. It's so cold that you have to keep moving your body constantly in order to survive, even in the properly chosen clothing. Everywhere you look, you'll be surrounded by the snowy desert. If you stray too far from human settlements, your eyes will be obscured by one of the sudden snowstorms. Bunch of snowflakes will cut into your face like tiny, marvelously crafted blades. Somewhere on the horizon you may spot the outlines of deep, impenetrable, coniferous forests. You will find it difficult to stand straight due to the violent blows of the whistling wind trying to bury you alive in the frosty grave. It's worth mentioning that the typical Snezhnayan days are rather short in comparison to local nights that can last even for months. This land is harsh, but it still possesses unique, raw beauty. Those cold nights offer truly charming views in the form of multi-colored aurorae you couldn't experience anywhere else in equally rich form. The artistry of almighty Cryo Archon is undeniable, only the canvas she uses to paint her abstract compositions are painfully fake. Of course, these aren't the only charms of the Ice Nation. This country is huge and full of contrasts. What may seem surprising is this special time of the year when the sun takes control over the sky completely, so it doesn't set at all. The local population describes this phenomenon as the "Miracle of the White Nights''. Over the course of four hundred years, one could experience many of them, but they could not compare to the fragrant, inflaming nights in the Nation of Wisdom.”

Zandik, as he wasn't holed up in the deepest dungeons of Haeresys, stopped next to one of the windows in the southern part of his mansion and locked his gaze on the distance. The scarlet irises wandered somewhere along the glittering horizon, seemingly without any specific goal as the Harbinger enjoyed pervasive silence. Since he got rid of the segments, it had been happening more and more often. Sometimes he was just trying to shake off a strange feeling of lightness inside his skull. He was fed up with everything. Exhausted with the amount of delayed work. Instead of dealing with serious matters, he wasted too much time on trivial affairs such as correcting the mistakes of people less competent than himself. For centuries he wasn't relying on his employees that much and now he was just even more disappointed with them. After all, they were only humans with ordinary lifespans, without the satisfying amount of experience that would possibly match the level of Teyvat's most powerful mind. Zandik felt frustrated by the lack of quick alternatives to slow down the pace of his own work. He was alone with all of the projects he started when his other selves were still present. By the time he still handled most of the things on his own in different forms, but for now he couldn't even rely on himself truly. This would be a disgrace to him if he addressed this issue to Pierro or their Archon, since for hundreds of years he had been an exceptional professional, the master of planning and reacting quickly to every breakthrough revelation. He was always a few steps before everyone. At this stage, it was not possible for him to return to such a tedious work alone. It would be much less problematic if only deadlines never existed. Escape in thought was his way to break away from the unfavorable situation at least for a short moment. His thoughts traveled to the place where it never snowed. To the forests that sheltered a much richer variety of living organisms. The days were longer there, and the hot nights often made it impossible to fall asleep. The scents in Sumerian air could effortlessly mess with the restless minds of angry young men living for some greater purposes… For the Second Harbigner of Shneznaya, looking towards Sumeru was an involuntary, bitter flirtation with his own past. Currently he was in a place so incongruous to his homeland, but it was the only nation that guaranteed him complete freedom and support in turning his wildest daydreams into reality. It was the only place in Teyvat that allowed him to prove himself the way he was. He had everything he wanted to continue his journey and test the ideas that many would not even dare to think about… And yet, somewhere in his suppressed consciousness, he understood perfectly well that even here he was just a stranger meant to simply play his part. This time, as the man continued staring out the window, he heard the echo of someone's slow footsteps on the marble floor behind him. He recognized the sequence of these steps extraordinarily well… Those were inimitable. If only their owner walked barefoot, she would reach him in perfect silence. The corners of the Doctor's mouth turned up involuntarily.

“Marie Snezhevna,” he said without even turning towards the woman. Instead, he laced his fingers together behind his back. “Is this an emergency? At this hour I would rather expect to witness your presence in the laboratory or in your chamber.”

His voice echoed crystal clear between the walls of the corridor occupied by him and his underling. As usual, the scientist chose his words in a stiff, somewhat archaic way. Although it added seriousness and supposed politeness to his overall image, he himself seemed distant. Despite Zandik's cold demeanor, his interlocutor did not feel rejected. She was used to talking to him. Marie's interactions with Il Dottore resembled rituals based on some unwritten rules which the main participants managed to learn over the last few years. If there was an ordinary side witness there, the said unrefined observer could experience the eagerness to say that both Marie and Dottore enjoyed engaging in these subtle games.

“I will leave immediately if I interrupted something important,” the woman replied calmly, keeping her demeanor professional. Zandik remained silent for a moment, giving her no answer. This made the woman sigh heavily before she turned her back towards him to fulfill her promise. The quiet rustle of her clothes alerted the Harbinger, who slowly turned towards her and squinted his eyes hidden under the raven mask.

“Stop.”

It was an order. Naturally, the woman immediately stopped and turned her face towards him, allowing him to continue his speech. After all, she had to respect his will. He cleared his throat, seemingly offended by the whole situation.

“You wouldn't come here without a reason. Besides, I don't think it's respectful to be in a hurry when you're talking to your boss.” Indeed, he had known her for a long time and he knew what he could expect from her. He had to play it cool, precisely because — since he had fully understood his own position over the last few months – he didn't want to miss the opportunity to finally talk to Marie alone.

Since he delivered the two gnosis to Tsaritsa, he cut off almost all forms of communication with his former main assistant except her reports on the progress of her research under his command. Although the heretical scientist usually didn't care about time, now it felt like the whole eternity had passed. A really strange thing. Deep down in his heart he was a simple coward, or maybe his unwavering patience was reasonable and had finally paid off as the woman herself announced her readiness for a face-to-face confrontation? Marie shrugged her arms and shifted her body weight to one of her hips before shaking her head, sighing again with a faint smile on her lips. It was an extremely familiar gesture, as if everything before had never had the opportunity to set them apart.

“Of course, naturally…” she looked up at him, and then her facial features softened noticeably. “I just want to thank you for everything you did for me. I really didn't expect this. Certainly not after I caused additional problems in a very crucial situation. I made it all about myself. I think you deserve an apology for what I said, when I stated that you're…”

“Your apology is unnecessary.”

The Harbinger made a gentle gesture with his hand to silence her. He didn't want Marie to take old skeletons out of the closet. He also did not want to elaborate more about the choice of his that had a negative impact on his daily functioning. He wasn't even bothered by the earlier behavior of his former assistant anymore. Even though he still couldn't fully accept what she truly meant back then, he understood her perspective on an intellectual level. During that mission, he was caught off guard by Kusanali and he just did what was necessary to succeed. However, he could have done it all more skillfully to minimize the unpleasant side effects of the special operation. However, he did not take this into account at the time, so he was delaying an adequate response to Marie's complaints. No honest apology passed his lips in ages and he wasn't very likely to utter that magical word anytime soon.

“Follow me. It will be much more beneficial,” he gestured and clasped his hands behind his back again. Then, he started moving further into the southern nave of the mansion. He walked leisurely, visibly waiting for Marie to go after him. True to his expectations, she caught up with him very quickly. When Marie glanced at his face from closer distance, she spotted his poor state immediately. He looked extremely tired and couldn't hide it even under the mask. His skin was paler than usual and it had a sickly greenish undertone. Exhaustion would explain his growing isolation in a convincing way. His own pride was his downfall. As they walked through the corridors in silence, listening to the wind blowing outside, Marie noticed that they were approaching the sector of private chambers. His intentions could be... everything and anything.

Dottore's supposed intentions caused Marie's consternation, but in order to avoid hasty guesses, she decided to keep all comments to herself. The time on his side teached her that the worst things were usually caused by the incorrect assumptions about his agenda. Yet, when Zandik started unlocking the door to his dorm, the woman cleared her throat quietly and took a step back.

“I'll wait outside.”

Slightly awkward smile appeared on her face. She received a reply in the form of a nod. It seemed that he didn't care about the goal that could stereotypically motivate any man to take a woman to his apartment. Overally, Zandik loved privacy, so Marie was going to respect that as well, leaving aside the obvious moral issues. The Doctor disappeared inside his apartment for around five minutes. When he came back, he handed her a small box wrapped in a papyrus. He had a gentle yet wry smile on his lips that only fools could trust. He warned the woman before she started asking him any questions.

“In Sumeru I managed to obtain some new chemical samples which I expect you to analyze, describe, and maybe even extract something completely new from them. I just require you to be extremely careful when handling them. I didn’t choose any intermediary, considering the high value of those resources… I'm strongly against unpacking them outside of the laboratory environment.”

“I see. I will do my best to keep them safe,” Marie took over the package with extreme caution. She seemed to turn pale when she heard a silent clink of glass under the packaging. She looked fearfully at the Harbringer, who rubbed the tip of his nose with his knuckles, covering the lower part of his face at the same time. It took a lot of effort for him not to burst into manic laughter. Fortunately, Dottore was an excellent actor.

“This is another urgent project that has been delayed unexpectedly, so get on with it immediately… If you can make it this evening, I might even consider promoting you again.”

The man sounded as categorical as promising. Yes, exactly, it was a great idea for Marie to return to her previous position. Of course, if only that's what she wanted. Zandik just intended to convince her to do so, being fully determined to achieve the desired effect. Among all of his employees, he memorized cooperation with Marie as the most pleasant. Moreover, he could keep an eye on her constantly to avoid particularly embarrassing accidents involving her... This woman's reliability required appropriate supervision to shine fully.

“Promoting me, you say… For how long?” Although the woman turned it into a joke, she slowly moved towards the opposite side of the corridor, remaining very careful around the package received from her boss. Since Marie was cut from the same cloth as Zandik, she also didn't want to admit that she simply missed the infamous heretic's company. “Apart from formalities, I just wonder what it is. Naturally, I will prepare the report as soon as possible!”

The Harbinger watched as the woman took up her task. It was amusing to witness her curiosity and willingness to gain knowledge. In this particular case, he had a feeling that it would herald a real breakthrough in their united research.

“I'm counting on your expertise, Professor,” he added in Fontanian as she left, before the storm of woman's black curls disappeared from his sight. He expected very quick results from this long-awaited experiment.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

When Marie entered her study room in the lab, she put the package on the table and rubbed her hands together with excitement. Sumeru was the region with the best samples of poisons. What could be inside the parcel? Small colorful frogs for the production of poison darts, medicines and antidotes, rhizomes, roots, leaves, mushrooms, insects… The tropical jungle hid countless treasures and the fact that Il Dottore himself managed the trouble of obtaining raw materials was exceptionally valuable. Marie didn't know anyone who was more familiar with the local flora and fauna. She herself might not have even paid attention to some things during her on field delegations, but now she had the opportunity to learn something new directly from the mastermind himself. On top of that, he offered her another promotion. Wonderful. Low importance tasks weren't as fulfilling as experiencing the true science. After conversation with Zandik she felt extraordinary happiness that she had not expected to return these days. The way he referred to her as Professor scratched the right part of her brain a bit too pleasantly. She was more willing to try to forgive him for scaring her to death when he destroyed his segments out of nowhere. At the same time, was this really necessary to wait so long before handing her the new project?

The woman tied her hair back and put on protective clothing, quietly humming the first random melody that popped into her head. Then, she walked over the table and began unrolling the package. As soon as she saw its contents, she felt the wave of heat on her cheeks. This wasn't what she expected… She slipped the protective mask off her face in bewilderment, and then, with wide eyes, she began to look at the containers. The bottles indeed contained chemicals, but at first glance none of the substances had something to do with the poisonous flora of Sumeru. Those weren't even standard vials from Zandik's laboratory, but some colorful glass flasks decorated according to the Sumerian manner of design and sealed with appropriate labels. Marie sank heavily onto her stool and began carefully turning the bottles over in her fingers. Maybe… Dottore made a mistake or someone miraculously robbed him, replaced the original cargo and even managed to escape with his life? Sounds a bit too silly, but it was all just women's cosmetics. Nothing really valuable to the scientist.

Rose water, kohl, aker fassi and several niche perfume oils. What's more, at the bottom of the package there was an original Sumerian halva decorated with dried fruits.

Marie tried to maintain her denial, but instead of relief, she felt a pang in her heart. At this point her face felt as if she was on fire. If Zandik planned to give it to her right after he returned and her sulks prevented him from doing so… She felt so bad about herself. Willingly or not, she blinked her eyes a few times, as for a moment her vision became blurry. He had no reason to be so generous. Maybe it was a suggestion that he noticed her getting old slowly, or maybe she should just look for some specific, new purposes for simple household chemicals? Maybe the halva was poisoned or packed with elixirs he hadn't tested before? After all, Dottore always devoured it himself and he was reluctant to share it with anyone. Or maybe Marie was just overthinking at the moment and what Dottore really expected from her was terrifyingly simple. Was it that he wanted her to try those substances on herself, like she always used to do in her job? Zandik wished to see the effects of her work in the evening, which meant there was no time for typical scientific inspection… Marie had just enough time to do her makeup. It was exciting, moving and scary in its own way. It wasn't usual to get any prosaic, non-scientific gift from Zandik.

However, if this was the only requirement to restore the old order in the laboratory, Marie was willing to do it for both of them and touch the precious part of Sumeru that he brought to Snezhnaya for her. Soon the woman's green eyes got embraced by a beautiful dark frame. Her cheeks and lips got touched with the color of a pomegranate with a golden glow. She placed the sweet scent of honey, sandalwood and rose behind her ear. She cut the halva into pieces. For now she was almost ready to face him again. It was one of those white nights, when endless days asserted their domination over the lenghty times of darkness again.

48 notes · View notes

maccreadysbaby · 1 month

Text

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

the name for this chapter in my notes was “bentley hates having feelings but he loves having jason” yes it’s short but it’s setting up for the next more intense ones :) also the title of this chapter is totally foreshadowing

part thirty-two

❝ DROWNING ❞

SUNDAY — AUGUST 23 — 6:51PM

THE WAYNE HOUSEHOLD WAS SO COMPLETELY SCREWED UP THAT BENTLEY ALMOST DIDN’T RECOGNIZE IT ANYMORE.

Over the past five days since he’d arrived back at the Manor, he’d done a whole lot of nothing. Most of his days had been spent in the den with Dick, watching old movies cuddled up on the couch. Dick hadn’t as much as let Bentley out of his sight since he returned home — he’d even been spending the night on the foot of Bentley’s bed. He didn’t mind. Dick still hadn’t talked, but Bentley didn’t mind that, either — because he was home. If he and Dick weren’t in the den, then the could be found in the library, listening to Jason read. They were working their way through The Outsiders again.

Jason had been having nightmares. Bad ones — ones where Bentley could hear him screaming from down the hall in the middle of the night. Dick was usually the one to get up from Bentley’s bed and hurry to his aid, quickly followed by Bruce. Bentley could only imagine what he was dreaming about — if he had to guess, he knew what it was.

While Jason had been more consistently present than ever, Tim had been practically nonexistent. He was holed up in his bedroom, where Bruce, Alfred, Steph, and Cass had been going in and out of for days. Bentley wasn’t even sure if he’d seen Tim’s face since he got home. He wished he could do something to help — at least before he left he could hold a barf bucket. Now he just sort of felt useless, but he’d rather be useless than annoying. Right?

Damian had more or less resigned to his bedroom, as well. Bruce went in and out often. Bentley could hear Damian talk and had seen him through the doorway on a couple of occasions — he seemed okay, as in, not bedridden. Bentley wasn’t so sure about how okay the rest of him was. Since they were graced with rooms only one wall apart, Bentley had heard him tell Bruce to leave and close him out several times without any more words.

Duke had, very reluctantly, started going back to school, only because his SAT was coming that week. Bentley thought there couldn’t be a worse week for the big test he’d been studying for for months — he was stressed out about his family and the test, now. Bentley hadn’t even considered going back to school. Especially without Nico and Asten.

To top it all off, Bruce was running himself rampant. Bentley knew it. Dick knew it. Alfred knew it. Everybody knew it — the Batman ping-ponging back and forth and back and forth and back and forth all day long. From Dick and Bentley, to Tim, to Damian, to Duke, to Jason, back to Tim, to Bentley and Dick, to try again with Damian, to Cass, to Duke, to Steph, to Tim, to Jason, to knock on Damian’s door, to bring Tim some water, to ask how Bentley was doing, to see if Duke needed help studying — Bentley didn’t think Bruce had slept or even sat down since they’d left the cave.

Patrol was nonexistent, everyone was struggling, and Bentley had only really seen two out of eight Wayne kids in the past five days.

And all of it was happening because of him.

To say he was drowning in guilt was an understatement. It felt more like he was becoming it. Like if someone looked up guilt in a dictionary, his picture would be on the page. It was so bad he couldn’t seem to think, to breathe. Like it was tearing him apart.

Asten and Nico hadn’t texted much since Bentley had returned home — only enough to let him know that Asten had told Titus about his parents' deaths, and that the three of them were staying at Asten’s apartment for now. He was instructed to delete the messages right after; they didn’t want anyone to know they weren’t missing anymore.

Bruce had gone about telling Bentley they were missing, too, a few days after he got home, which he had to fake a reaction to. (Not that his crying was fake, he had plenty to cry about.) All it did was make the list of things that he felt bad about longer.

And to make everything just a pinch worse, Dick had gone back to Bludhaven that very day. So Bentley was holed up in the library with Jason instead.

“I was trembling. A pain was growing in my throat and I wanted to cry, but greasers don't cry in front of strangers. Some of us never cry at all. Like Dally and Two-Bit and Tim Shepard--- they forgot how at an early age. Johnny crippled for life? I'm dreaming, I thought in panic, I'm dreaming,”

Bentley wished he were dreaming just like Ponyboy wished he were dreaming. He wished he would just wake up on the day after last Christmas and live a happy, normal life with the Waynes. No supervillains, no monsters, no trouble, no problems for him to cause. Just life — like it used to be. Life before they knew he was a traitor and just thought he was a kid from the street.

Bentley was coiled on one end of the long library couch, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, red hair in a mess on his head. Jason was on the other end, hardcover in hand, reading ever so softly.

Bentley breathed in, brushing a hand through his red hair. Everything was wrong.

“Hey, Jason?” His voice was so quiet it broke off at the end, making it sound more like he’d said Jay than Jason. But he didn’t seem to care all that much.

“Yeah?” He saw Jason’s head turn in his peripheral, deep blue eyes coming to rest on the side of Bentley’s head.

Bentley tapped his fingers on his knees. “Do you think Ponyboy’s life ever went back to normal? After Johnny and Dally died?”

Jason looked over at him, letting the book rest on his lap with a deep breath in and out. His eyes drifted away.

“I’m sure it did, kid,”

A moment of silence passed.

“Do you think ours will? After all of this?” Bentley questioned softly, shaking his head. The familiar sting of tears came but he used all of his willpower to force it away.

Jason scanned him quietly, calculatively.

“I… can’t say our lives have ever been very normal, but… yeah. I do,” Jason replied, deep blue eyes dancing across Bentley’s face. “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

Bentley sighed deeply, shrinking further into himself. “Maybe it would be better if Bruce got rid of me.”

“What?” Jason questioned suddenly, closing the book and laying it aside, a faintly alarmed expression creeping across his features. “What’re you talking about, kid?”

“Everything’s gone wrong since I got here. It was all fine before,” Bentley replied with a huff. “The only thing that changed here was me.”

He heard Jason sigh, then shift toward him on the couch. “None of this is your fault, kid.”

If only Jason knew the truth — that it quite literally all was.

Bentley felt something forming in his throat, and he looked away. “It is.”

Jason moved closer to him again. “How are supervillains ransacking Gotham your fault? How is you getting kidnapped your fault?”

Bentley felt a familiar feeling — the intense urge to spill the whole truth, the urge that he always felt before the Wayne’s knew about his dad. But he couldn’t, Asten told him not to. He shouldn’t. Right? He should respect Asten’s wishes. Right?

“I can’t tell you,” He finally whispered, hiding his face away in his knees. “I can’t tell you...”

He heard Jason huff. “Look, kid, if… if someone threatened you to keep you quiet, they aren’t going to get to you again. Promise.”

Bentley shook his head, pressing his knees into his eye sockets to keep the tears inside. “No one threatened me. I just… I can’t tell you.” But I want to tell you so bad.

“Bentley-“

“I feel like I’m drowning,” He piped up suddenly, eyes burning spectacularly. “Like I can’t… I can’t move, I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t hear, can’t see, can’t-“

“Hey, hey,” Jason was suddenly right next to him, and there was a warm hand on his back. “Just breathe, kid. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I’m so tired of feeling like this all of the time,” Bentley said with a pitiful hiccup that sounded almost wheezy. “I’m always so scared. It feels like I’ll never be happy again.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’ve felt like that, too,”

Bentley pulled his head from his lap just far enough to look up at Jason. He was peering at him with his deep blue eyes, white streak hanging down over his forehead, his hand still resting on Bentley’s back.

“Like everything was so bad there was no way it could get better. Like I was just… ruined… and would always be that way,”

Bentley said nothing, but took a shaky breath, forcing the tears to stay inside. Jason breathed in, too.

“When I came back, kid, I was a wreck,” Jason explained quietly. “I was a different person. I felt betrayed, and angry, and hopeless and full of rage, but at the same time I was so… broken. Like I was lost, just someone else trapped in Jason Todd’s body, not the Jason everyone wanted back. So I spiraled. Hard. I hurt people. And I didn’t let anyone help me. I didn’t let myself get help because I felt so… worthless. Empty.”

Bentley said nothing.

“For a long time I kept trying to fix myself. To do it all alone. Because I was scared to let anyone else close enough to see that I was tearing myself apart,” Jason explained quietly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “I won’t get into the details, for your sake, kid, but… it took me finding myself only inches from death again to realize that I needed help.”

A moment of silence passed.

“I want you to know that anyone here will listen to you. I had to teach myself that. I’m still learning it,” Jason sighed, rubbing Bentley’s back a little. “And they’ll be here for you even if you don’t want to talk. You’re not alone.”

Bentley breathed in deep. “I feel alone.”

“You’re not,” Jason said surely. “You’re never really alone, kid. You just have to reach for somebody.”

Who in the world should Bentley reach for when he couldn’t tell them anything? If he told them, they’d hate him. He’d get in so much trouble.

Just like he had done to Bruce all those months ago, after his first nightmare in the Manor, he moved his hand slowly and carefully until he was holding onto the sleeve of Jason’s black hoodie.

Maybe he’d understand that Bentley was reaching for him.

—

Nico and Asten were ‘found’ seven hours later, by returning to Nico’s house.

Bentley hadn’t had to speak to the police — Bruce made sure of that. But Asten and Nico did. Asten said they both played the amnesiac card; which meant they told the cops they couldn’t remember anything. Lied to them. Which Bentley understood, he guessed — he wasn’t much for talking about all of that either. Plus, Asten said Nico cried the whole time and had a well-timed asthma attack, so it made it pretty believable.

Bruce woke Bentley up to tell him they were home. It wasn’t hard to summon a few tired, fake tears of relief, and it wasn’t hard to get Bruce to stay with him for the rest of the night (to ensure he got some sleep, but mostly because Bentley just wanted him to.)

When Dick was gone and Bruce was preoccupied with his other children for the night, a certain white-streaked Wayne found his way into Bentley’s room.

And for a while, with Jason around, Bentley’s life was okay.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere

26 notes · View notes

rainydaygt · 3 months

Note

💫 for your Arrietty self insert ocs 👀

HELLO i’m so glad you asked actually.

So, I’m legally obligated to drag my good good friend @/just1gnome into literally every au I make, and arrietty is certainly no exception.

As is the nature of our friendship, we decided to be more silly and less serious without. So, my friend’s character has appendicitis rather than a heart condition (also because I don’t feel right writing/drawing disabilities I don’t have and don’t know much about.) and our characters HATE each other. My lil borrower guy loooves to mess with their human counterpart, stealing very inconvenient things and putting small sharp objects on the ground where they will surely be stepped on. Oh, and, they kiss.

if you’re not making enemy yaoi characters with your best friend WHAT are you even doing ♡

ALSO, about my character, they originally lived outside (much like spiller) but decided to give borrowing a go, thinking it’d be a breeze. Aaand that’s exactly how they got caught. They got cocky and overconfident, not bothering to monitor the human’s sleeping patterns and therefore getting spotted during a 2 am borrowing.

Anyways, haven’t thought too much past that, but thank you for letting me talk about them!!

#thanks for the ask!!#asked and answered #g/t #giant/tiny #tiny #giant #giant tiny #art from the river #arrietty #arrietty oc #borrowers #borrower oc

40 notes · View notes

princess-of-the-corner · 5 days

Note

So based on the point in time in CC. Would any of the class have fanfics about them? Not like what you did with Kiri and Izuku, but full on them as the main characters of the fic.

Shoto and Iida are probably the only ones directly in the Hero fics, but that's less because of them and more because they appeared in fanfics written about their family members. They're not really 'characters' in these fics as it's their respective Hero family members who are getting the main focus and they're just added for flavor text and scenes of "My self-insert meets X Hero and they either fall in love or get adopted and are eventually introduced to their family". They're written very ooc in these fics because while they're known to exist and there's a few photos/videos/Hero family member mentioning them in an interview floating around, it's not enough to get their personality down so they're more whatever tropes needed for the writer.

Same with Momo, but less common because she's just from a rich family rather than a Hero family like the other two, but there's an occasional mention of the wealthy family as an excuse to have the characters go to a charity gala and she occasionally appears in those. We also get non-Hero fics that are like. Either 'sold to One Direction' type of thing or basically the family being the Batman to the self-insert OCs Robin and just yoink that's my child now. But again, Momo's personality is entirely made up because the public doesn't know much about her and she's just whatever tropes the writer wants to throw in for the story.

Jiro miiiiight be in this a little bit as well depending on how famous I decide to make her family. We know they're musicians and seem to make a living on that, but they don't seem to be full on famous rockstars. So even if she appears in the same way as the other three, it's on a smaller scale.

Also Denki 100% has fanfics but as his Minecraft Streamer persona rather than the family or anything. So he's the only one who shows up at UA with fanfics written about him that are actually focused on him and also in-character.

Thanks to the Sports Festival, the class is starting to edge into the spotlight. They're still pretty niche in terms of fans, and the characterization is all over the place because so little of them is known. But the 1v1 battles absolutely inspired a lot of rivalmance fanfic. But no one's really stuck out more than usual.

7 notes · View notes

illegiblewords · 1 month

Text

I want to take a second to talk about Mary Sues as I understand them. And by Mary Sues, I mean all variants unbound by gender or style.

People used to discuss Mary Sues a lot back in the early 2000's. There were litmus tests all over defined by superficial qualities like hair/eye color, number of love interests, whether a tragic backstory existed, etc. Readers would run up to strangers with hate reviews if an OC didn't meet their standards. It was common to accuse disliked canon characters of being Mary Sues too. There were lists of works that were considered guilty of Mary Sue creation assembled for mockery. The whole thing became a form of public bullying and I think it scared a lot of creators into not trying anymore. I suspect it's a huge part of why we keep getting y/n and other open self-insert fics these days.

At some point, the public shifted. People attempted to defend Mary Sues by equating them with all power or romance fantasies then claiming the only reason such characters would be vilified is sexism toward a female default archetype. By doing this, most people stopped examining the phenomenon altogether--not only in understanding what the actual common factor in Mary Sues is, but why Mary Sues are alienating to readers.

That answer was a cop out. I promise that Mary Sues are just as off-putting with characters of any gender, demographic, orientation, whatever. And frankly it doesn't matter if your character is the most generically designed, unassuming, non-tragic shlub of all time--they are still capable of being a Mary Sue if the structural issues remain.

Mary Sues are normal among developing writers. I've certainly made Mary Sues before. They were cringe af and occasionally I discuss them behind closed doors if I want to make someone laugh. Created them in dead earnest as a teen and holy fuck it was parody level. Everything I talk about is as someone who is 0% free from sin lmao.

Before I give my definition of what a Mary Sue is, I need to explain something about characterization that is often overlooked.

There is micro, individual characterization and there is macro, population characterization. Worldbuilding requires characterization too. You need to look at a group's motives, influences, psychology, resources, etc. the same way you would for individual characters while allowing room for varied experiences. You need to know the cause/effect of societal development. It isn't something you can just wave away as 'because I said so' because that dehumanizes the entire population, which makes the world less believable/immersive. A less believable world in-turn strips individual characters of experiences and perspectives that shape who they are. This has a flattening effect and makes characters less believable and relatable too. Tradition, style, and genre def shape how much detail is needed but some degree of macro-characterization is necessary.

With that said, I'd argue that Mary Sues are characters who (rather than having behavior believably shaped by experiences or operating within the parameters of the world they inhabit) define themselves for how they are exempt. It doesn't matter if the exception to cause/effect is positive or negative. Mary Sues are also prone to being the most at what they do. Most ordinary/boring counts. Mary Sues will warp the experiences, perspectives, and desires of other cast members around themselves like black holes without it being acknowledged as abnormal by the other cast members or the narrative. Cause and effect in relationship building through behavior/choices does not apply, a Mary Sue does not start from zero like a regular person. Lore and stories revolve around Mary Sues exclusively even when it doesn't make any sense for that to be the case. Every significant thought or experience of other cast members ties back to Mary Sues too. Positive or negative, Mary Sues are likely the only and most meaningful relationship characters will have. Design elements (when present) tie to exceptionalism and lack of cause/effect.

Being a chosen one or someone with unrivaled power/influence in a particular arena isn't enough to make a character a Mary Sue if it is cohesive within the world. These things also tie heavily to characterization in response to situations as well as the dynamics with others/characterization of others. The existence of Mary Sue tends to preclude any alternate meaningful relationships or experiences for other cast members, and again--Mary Sue is specifically not shaped by experiences in credible ways. They don't experience meaningful internal change. They're pretty much always right or always wrong. And having an exceptional or rare experience (ex. someone did an experiment with odd results on a character) isn't enough to cause a Mary Sue either if that experience or exception remains consistent within the overall worldbuilding/macro-characterization. So ex. if there were similar experiments being conducted on or by others, that would go a long way to addressing exceptionalism. Isekai characters who come from one world to another are not inherent Mary Sues, because the isekai character still carries and is shaped by both their previous life experiences and the life experiences of their new environment. The source world is still part of the overall setting that shapes them. In-universe reality warpers also don't count as Mary Sues because reactions to reality warping tend to be organic and not normalized by the narrative.

There are degrees in how much a character is or isn't a Mary Sue, but lack of cause/effect, absolutism, and exceptionalism are big. The reason Mary Sues are bad storytelling is because they are not credibly human (figurative), diminish the humanity of other cast members, and diminish the humanity/construction of the entire world simultaneously. They lack believable consequences for any choices made--be they positive or negative. Stakes/tension are skewed as a result. Mary Sues tend to be static and they not only break immersion, they alienate readers because it's a form of destroying a world and cast the audience is invested in. There is no reason for random strangers to love Mary Sues. Mary Sues don't come across as authentically alive in any capacity, but more as poorly done caricatures of life.

And the thing is, they often don't work for wish-fulfillment fiction either. Wish-fulfillment (when the reader imagines experiencing the story in the role of protagonist) gets passes on certain technical elements necessary in empathy-based storytelling (when the reader forms opinions of cast members as distinct people) or intellect-based storytelling (the reader is exploring a philosophical or medium-based concept).

In wish-fulfillment, it is very important that the writer creates a main character who many audience members can project themselves onto. Usually such characters are left somewhat underdeveloped to facilitate this. Whether it's a power fantasy (reader imagines having luxury/influence), a romance fantasy (reader obtains an ideal partner), or even revenge fantasy (reader has an outlet for anger without consequences)--in wish-fulfillment it's important that not only the author but a wide range of readers can share in the fantasy. While it's possible to get limited success with some Mary Sues here, I think the extreme, specific, hyper exceptional nature of Mary Sues often distracts. Again, wish-fulfillment finds strength in how well it shares fantasies with audiences. If the audience is so caught up that they can't effectively project themselves onto the Mary Sue (being hyper aware of the Mary Sue's artificiality), that isn't going to work. If the fantasy doesn't resonate with audiences, it won't go as far either.

Imagine taking James Bond and giving him natural purple eyes and hair in a world where no one else has that. He'd never lose a single fight or struggle to escape peril, never wreck one of the fancy cars he's given, never have a single advance rejected. Bond is a power and romance fantasy character no doubt, but his limits are significant in keeping him from being a Mary Sue. There are plots and relationships that have nothing to do with him beyond details in the mission he was assigned and those keep things immersive.

All this said. If you're telling a story for yourself, and only yourself--doesn't matter if your character is a Mary Sue. Once you bring other people in, you have to think about what you're trying to achieve as a storyteller in terms of interpersonal communication. That includes whether the experiences you're crafting for readers are effectively realized.

Mary Sues are a normal part of learning. They aren't immoral or unforgivable. Mostly they invoke a self-centered mindset supposing the entire world/everyone in it revolves around you in some way. Again, I've made 'em lol--think immaturity is a big part of the practice. But in a story where everything revolves around you, that doesn't necessarily share well with readers who aren't you who are still the heroes of their own stories.

Making Mary Sues is a craftsmanship issue. It's like trying to build a chair only for one leg to come out wobbly. It can be your favorite chair sure, but that doesn't make it well-crafted. Certainly no one owes you money or praise for it. Hell, they wouldn't owe those things if it was a perfectly crafted chair but not the chair they were after.

Part of what motivated me to write this is because I've seen certain creators with wobbly chairs. They've slapped on carvings, stains, and all kinds of features--but the chair still wobbles like a motherfucker. These creators don't understand why more people aren't buying their chair. They think people must hate them personally or the material their chair is made from then fly into rages accusing audiences of moral deficiency. It's hit a level of bullying in its own right.

To people like that I say:

Your chair wobbles. It'll do way better if it doesn't wobble. The wobble is fixable. Strangers are not obligated to fawn over your wobbly chair. There isn't something wrong with them for not wanting a wobbly chair. Wobbly chairs haven't done well historically either. You're not an exception, just one in a very long line of wobbly chair makers. Some of those chairs were made of the same material you're using. Some were different. It isn't about the material or your staining, your carvings, any of that. It isn't about you either. Your chair can't support itself--let alone someone trying to sit in it. Even if your prospective customers couldn't make a better chair themselves, they can tell when shit's unsteady and they don't want that. Of course you're making wobbly chairs before you make sturdy ones because you're still figuring chair construction out. This is just a part of the process you haven't mastered yet. It takes attention and practice. If you spent half the energy you use yelling at other people honing your craft instead, you'd probably have better sales.

8 notes · View notes

stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years

Text

Prey | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x oc ✧ oneshot

Summary: OC and her brother are being hunted by the Winter Soldier to atone for the sins of their father. For reasons the Winter Soldier cannot explain, he finds himself helping this girl escape the very people he works for.

A/N: This is one of my favs, hope you all love it like I do! I always gravitate towards oc's but I've got some reader inserts to post as well. I have like 60 one shots already written so I'll be systematically editing and uploading them here, pls enjoy friends! Also, if you have literally ANY requests, ask it up! I love being of service 🤍

Warnings: oc, severe angst, violence, suspense, winter soldier bucky, mention of past abuse, protective bucky, fluff at the end

Word Count: 13,191

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

He's been hunting us for days now.

I don't know why. I don't even know who he is. It all happened so fast, one minute I was sitting in my apartment with my closest and really only friend, the next I was getting a frantic call from my little brother saying a man had shot up the family house.

A man with a metal arm.

My little brother, Cody, has been living with my dad alone ever since I moved out. He's nearly 18 and fully plans to leave the moment he can. I tried to persuade a few social workers to let me become his legal guardian to get him away from that sorry excuse for a father, but my attempts were in vain. Even though I'm older than Cody, old enough to be considered responsible for his care, my father stood in the way. However awful our dad may be, he's a high-ranking government official and has power. There was no way he was going to let his daughter take his son away from him.

In a way, I think he's lonely.

Our mother passed a few years after I moved out to begin my adult life. If she had died before and my father had begun acting the way he did while I was still at home, I never would've left Cody there alone. I did visit rather frequently, trying to deflect any scorn or more...physical reprimands onto myself as much as I could. Our star of a father just happened to be away on government official business when I got the call.

Now here we are, huddled together on the same bed of a grimy motel, my brother restlessly asleep with his head in my lap while I keep watch. He begs me every night to wake him up halfway through so he can take watch.

Every night I ignore him and let him sleep.

I haven't slept in two days, both of which we've had to constantly relocate and run away from the man with the metal arm. He always manages to find us, no matter how careful we are. Somehow, by a miracle, he hasn't managed to kill us yet. In fact, he has yet to get close enough to get a good enough look at us.

The untraceable pay phone in my trembling, exhausted hand rings, the sound repetitive and hopeless.

"Come on" I whisper, biting my lip furiously, "Pick up"

Once again, for what must be the thirtieth time, my father doesn't answer my call. When I hear the phone tell me to leave a message, I decide that after this one I will call and leave no more. By now, I'm almost convinced that he's in on this whole thing.

"Dad, it's your daughter, Caroline Bane. Remember me?" I begin, trying desperately, and failing miserably, to keep the anger out of my usually quiet and anger-less voice.

"Oh and your son Cody Bane is here too. If it wouldn't trouble you too much, maybe you'd like to pick up your phone and realize that your children are being hunted," I spit out, keeping my voice low to not wake up my brother, "I know you never really cared for us, but mom did. I wonder, what would she think of you if she could see you now? Blowing off our calls and leaving us to die?"

I pause, trying to keep the tears that water in my hazel eyes at bay. I bite my lip hard to keep from crying, I refuse to let this man hear me cry.

"I don't know what's happening, I don't know what we did or what you did but for once in your life can you be a man and own up to it instead of letting your kids take the fall?" I grit out, a tear managing to slip down my cheek despite my best efforts to keep it in, "Randall Bane, you are a coward. You never have been and never will be my father."

I end the call, a few more tears slipping down my heated cheeks. Never in my life have I spoken with such venom to any single person, but I know, I just know, that my dad's involved in this. All of my pent up disappointment and anger towards him and the way he's beat on both me and my little brother just spilled out. I wouldn't care if he only beat on me, if he only hit me and yelled at me I could take it. I'd be able to push through it.

But no one, not even my father, has the right to hit my little brother.

My brother stirs lightly on my lap.

"Carrie? Everything alright?" Cody mumbles, his groggy voice heavy with sleep. I nod and smooth back his hair that's the same rich brown as mine.

"Everything's just fine," I whisper soothingly, trying to keep the emotion from my voice, "Sleep, Cody"

In a few seconds, he's fallen back asleep peacefully. When he does, I feel a tear slip down my cheek. He's only a kid, he shouldn't have to deal with any of this at such a young age. In the time since our mom passed, I've been less a sister and more a mother to Cody. I was always there to smile and laugh with him, to joke around and play video games with him. I made sure he did his homework and didn't get into too much trouble. When he'd have break downs, I'd be there. When his heart got broken, I was there. When our dad tried to hit him, I stood in the way.

I'd do anything to protect my brother.

I smile softly down at his sleeping form and carefully slide his head off of my lap and onto the pillow near him. Then, I carefully climb off of the bed and stand, stretching out my aching muscles slightly. I let out a long sigh and walk towards the window nearby, cautiously moving the curtain the slightest bit to look out.

I'm not used to constantly living in fear. I don't like it, not one bit. Neither Cody nor I know how to use a gun or even a knife properly. Obviously, we can give it our best shot but up until now it's been pure luck that we've stayed alive. We've managed to drive away or hide before the man with the metal arm could find us. If he had managed to get any closer, we surely would've been dead. We tried calling the police, but the officers who came were dead within minutes. Now, I have no clue what to do. I don't know how much longer we can run and hide. I don't know how much longer my luck will last.

I'm just about to step away from the window and close the curtains when something catches my eye. A large, black SUV swerves into the parking lot silently and only a single man steps out. Once I see a flash of metal, I jump away from the curtains with my heart in my throat. My pulse begins to race and adrenaline immediately floods every fiber of my being. Intense fear strikes to the very depths of me as I scramble to figure out the best escape plan.

First, I have to wake up Cody.

I sprint over to the bed and clamp a hand over my brother's mouth to keep him from making a noise. Then, I shake him awake. He starts with a gasp, his hazel eyes matching mine flying open in a panic. When he turns to me, he relaxes only slightly. I put a finger to my lips, to which he nods. When I remove my hand, I speak hurriedly and in whispers.

"He's here, we have to go" I rush out, scrambling around the room and grabbing our already packed backpacks. As he jumps out of bed and does the same, a few gunshots can be heard in the distance. We both freeze, looking at each other with wide eyes.

No doubt he got our room number out of the man at the front desk, who is no doubt dead now. I don't have time to dwell on the immense flood of guilt and terror that inundates me, but rather begin to shove my brother towards the bathroom and hand him both of our bags.

"There's a small window in there, get it open and get out" I command, looking up at the window just large enough to fit a body through. Cody begins to do as I say, but pauses to look over at me as I look around for any sort of makeshift weapon I can find.

"What are you doing? Aren't you coming?" my brother asks, his wide eyes locked on me. I snap my gaze up to him, sympathy pouring through me at his fright.

"I'm gonna buy you as much time as I can, now go." I order, finally managing to pry off a bar from the wall and moving out of the bathroom.

"Caroline wait, please!" Cody calls to me, emotion thick in his tone. I spare him one last glance as he works on the window.

"Don't wait for me, get in the car and find a safe place. Please, Cody. Please just listen to me" I beg and before he can protest, I slam the door shut. Just as I do, I hear footsteps outside our motel door.

My stomach lurches at the sound and I sprint towards the door, my mind racing for a solution. I stand right beside it, the heavy metal bar trembling in my hands. When the man with the metal arm opens the door, I plan on hitting him as hard as I can with the bar. Hopefully, by the time he gets past me and to the bathroom, Cody will be gone.

Even if it takes my life, my little brother will get out of this.

A crash sounds from the bathroom, signaling Cody has broken the window. My relief is short-lived when only a second later, the door to the motel room bursts open. Fear grips my heart but I don't freeze. When the man with metal arm walks into the room, his eyes survey the empty area in the belly of the room as the door shuts behind him. Holding my breath, I move from my blind spot by the door and swing the metal bar as hard as I can at his head. It slams into his skull, but not as hard as I'd like. I'm nowhere near strong enough to knock a man as big as him unconscious.

The man is sent off of his balance, lowering his gun slightly as he recoils from the hit. I take the advantage and move to hit him again, but just as I'm swinging, he whirls around and catches the bar mid air with his metal hand. I freeze, my eyes wide with fear as the bar bends in his metal grasp. His eyes lock onto mine for a moment and I realize that it's the first time I've been this close to the man with the metal arm.

His eyes are blue, a bright, intoxicating blue I've never seen. The kind of blue that makes me stall for a moment.

From what I can see, he doesn't seem near as old as I thought he'd be. It perplexes me that someone so young could be so incredibly lethal. His long, dark hair hangs dangerously around his face, covering up what little the mask that goes up to his nose doesn't. Within a moment, my examination of him is over as he rips the bar from my hands and throws it aside. Then, just as he's about to shoot me, a small curse of pain comes from the bathroom.

My world stops.

Cody must've been cut by some glass on his way out, and I feel the walls begin to close around me. The man looks over towards the bathroom and back to me slowly. I begin to shake my head.

"No, no! Please!" I beg, but he crashes the butt of his gun against my cheek and sends me sprawling to the floor.

I groan in pain and look up to see the man with the metal arm stalking toward the bathroom. My heart lurches and I find the strength to force myself to my feet. I sprint over, the world swerving only slightly as I do. Just before he reaches out to open the door, I shove myself in between the man and the thin wood hiding my brother. I brace my arms on the doorway, making myself a sort of blockade.

"Leave him alone, please!" I shout, my hair hanging wildly and some parts falling into my eyes, "He's just a kid, he's a kid."

This seems to make the man with the blue eyes pause, but only for a moment. He begins to reach out to throw me aside to get to my brother before he makes it out of the window, so with a racing heart I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

"If you have to kill us kill me! Please kill me, not him!" I shout, beseeching the assassin.

The man freezes, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting that.

"He's a kid, please! Kill me, not him. Kill me." I repeat, the words loaded with desperation. I can only hope and pray that Cody is at the car about to make it away before anyone else who might be in the van sees him.

As my desperate eyes stay locked onto the man's bright blue ones, I furrow my brows as I catch the slightest bit of hesitation. Who is he?

In the silence of his conflicted, shocked eyes burning into mine, I hear the revving of a car engine and tires screeching as a car drives away. Relief like I've never felt it pours through me, flooding every fiber of my being. The car is enough to bring the man back to his senses, and he throws me aside before shoving his way into the bathroom. I hit the wall and quickly rebound, looking into the bathroom over my hunter's massive body and smiling when I find it empty.

He's safe.

Outside I hear car doors open and about a dozen more feet pounding up. My heart drops as I realize that he's not alone. Thankfully, the guards, at least that's what I'm assuming they are, didn't follow Cody but now they're outside the room. The man, now beyond furious, walks over to me and grabs me by the throat, slamming me so hard into the wall that my bones creak. I gasp, fear spiking through me as his raging blue eyes lock angrily onto me. I know the spot where his metal hand grasps will bruise.

"Where is he going?" He growls.

Surprise curls through me, I've never heard him talk before. The sound is dark and gravelly and sends shivers down my spine that I don't understand. Or maybe that I don't want to understand.

"I don't know" I answer truthfully, my voice rasping from the lack of breath because of his grip on my throat. He pulls me away and slams me into the wall again, making me cry out in pain this time. Outside, I hear the clicking of more guns, and I know that if a miracle doesn't happen, I'm going to die.

Better me than Cody, though.

When I look back into the eyes of the metal-armed man before me, I remember the conflicted gaze from before, the way he froze. He's human, somewhere beneath the assassin's mask. I just know it. Deep in his eyes, in a way I can't explain, I see pain and brokenness and a humanity long shoved away. I know it's my best chance.

"Please, I don't know who you are but you obviously know me. I didn't do anything wrong, I know you know that," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper as his vice-like grip on my throat only tightens, "Please help me, please"

Again, there's that same hesitation that gives me hope. His metal grip loosens ever so slightly.

"Why'd you do it?" He grits out, surprising me.

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused as to what he's asking.

Outside, one guard pipes up.

"Asset, is it secure?"

My eyes widen and I feel my fear spike yet again. Asset? Does this man not have a name?

"Why'd you try and sacrifice yourself for the boy?" He grits out, his hand on my throat now barely squeezing.

"He's my brother," I say simply, my wide eyes locked onto his, "I'd do anything to protect him."

"We're coming in" another voice calls out. I look towards the door and back to my assassin.

"Please help me." I whisper one last time, my voice broken and charged with emotion.

I don't know why he does it or why I'm so incredibly surprised when he does, but he suddenly pulls away from me and shoves me behind him. I stumble, not knowing what he's about to do.

"Hold on and stay behind me" He commands, making hope spark in my chest. I do as I'm told and cower behind the large, muscular man.

Then the door slams open and the bullets begin to fly.

I hear the ricocheting of bullets against metal and hear my assassin fire only twelve shots. Each must find their target because silence rests over the room. I step out from behind him to see twelve guards dead on the floor. My stomach lurches, nausea overtaking me as my wide, fearful eyes take in the carnage.

"Don't make me regret this," he lowly warns, grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the room, "We have to move."

He drags me out into the black of night, the only light coming from a lamppost or two and the sliver of a moon above us. I'm in shock as the man who's been hunting me for the past few days drags me along to a random car, saving my life. My eyes inadvertently go to where my car used to sit and I can't help but smile at the empty spot. I turn back around and see the man with the metal arm breaking into a car and hot-wiring it. My eyes widen.

"What are you doing?" I ask, surprise curling through my voice. He looks up at me sharply and I close my mouth, knowing it's better to not fight with him. After all, he can kill me at any moment. When the car revs to life, I hop in the passenger seat as he gets into the driver's seat and drives away while I'm still putting my seatbelt on.

For the first few moments, there's nothing but the humming of the engine and my own breathing. With his mask still on, I can't even hear his own breath. Finally, as I steal a glance at the side of his face, I make my terrified tongue move.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice shaking. I can't help it, though. This man did try and murder my brother and I repeatedly.

He doesn't even look over at me. The metal of his arm gleams dangerously and keeps me on high alert. All he has to do is pull a gun out and point it in my direction. Although this was most definitely not the smartest choice, it was my only choice.

"Somewhere safe" he responds simply, his voice gravelly and low. I bite my lip in nervousness and look forward. Another heavy silence settles over the car and after what must be fifteen minutes of quiet driving, I can't help but ask the burning question in my mind.

"Why are you helping me?" I ask softly, looking over at the man.

This time, he does look over at me, however briefly. His eyes meet mine and I can see a sort of war in them, as if there's two versions of himself he's fighting between. The black mask is still set on the lower half of his face so I can't truly gauge his emotions. He looks back forward, his grip tightening on the wheel.

"I don't know."

I have yet to receive one straight forward answer from the man beside me, so I ask him the one question I feel like he could answer.

"I'm Caroline by the way, but I'm pretty sure you know that," I begin, trying to hide the panic in my voice, "What's your name?"

This time, I see more emotion flicker across his eyes that stay locked onto the road. This time, when he answers, I know it's as straight forward of an answer as he can possibly give me.

"I don't know," he almost whispers, his voice sending those same shivers down my spine.

Sympathy curls in my chest for the man and I can't help but wonder what he's been through. For the first time in two days, for the first time since I ran from the man with the metal arm, I feel this insane curiosity to figure him out. What scares me more is that with him on my side, even though he could easily kill me in a multitude of ways,

I've never felt safer.

|||

We drive for around six hours before the assassin finally pulls up outside an abandoned warehouse. I should've slept, but I was too terrified to let my eyes slip closed, afraid that I'd wake in containment or not wake at all.

"We should be safe here, but not for long. Just long enough to figure things out," he informs, the most he's spoken yet.

I nod and get out of the car as he does, my entire body still on alert. I walk side by side with the man and bask in the intense heat coming off of his body. In the brisk temperatures outside, I can't help but feel grateful for it. When we step inside, the warehouse is dark and dingy with an odd smell and consistent dripping noise. Still, I'm not the slightest bit picky.

It's safe, and that's enough for me.

We walk into a separate room in the center where a few old, rat-eaten blankets sit and a makeshift fireplace rests in the corner. I go inside, not entirely sure what to do. The man walks in after me and, much to my surprise, pulls off his mask. I guess I should've put together that he'd have to take it off eventually, but it still sends shock curling through me to see him set the black mask down. He bends down to the fireplace, his back to me.

"Grab some of the wood in the corner, we need some heat if we're not going to freeze" the man orders. I don't argue, still wholly terrified of him and the things I have witnessed first hand that he can do. I walk over and grab the wood and bring it to where the man crouches. I set it down and stand somewhere beside his crouched form, not right next to him but close enough so I'll be near the fire when he gets it going.

As I watch him build the fire, my mind goes back to what the guards called him. Asset, as if he didn't even deserve a name. As if he were an object. If this is all because of my dad, which I'm certain it is, then I can't imagine how he came to tangle himself with people like my hunters. The fire sparks to life after a few minutes and the man stands, satisfied at the flames. When he turns to me, I get my first look at the man's entire face. Shock courses through me as I take in the sharp, stubbled jaw and his angular face framed by his long dark hair.

He's hands down the most stunning man I've ever laid my eyes on.

I don't have much time to dwell on his sheer gorgeousness, though, because I see something deeply familiar. I furrow my brows, looking deeper into his face. He looks at me in confusion, not knowing what I'm doing. I know who this is, I've seen his face before. Then, like a load of bricks, it slams into me. Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

I saw his monument in the museum on a field trip way back in high school. The Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend. He's supposed to be dead. Stranger things have happened in the past few years, though. My hazel eyes widen and my lips part slightly in shock.

"You're Bucky Barnes" I breathe out.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I watch his eyes widen slightly and something spark deep inside of them. It's almost as if he knows that name but it's just outside of his reach. This makes my intrigue spike. What's happened to Bucky in the past decades to make him into a cold killing machine who doesn't even know his own identity.

"What did you just call me?" He asks, his voice angry but also hinted with confusion. With the way his haunted, darkening eyes sear into me, I lose some of my confidence.

"Y-you're James Buchanan Barnes. Captain America was your best friend back in the-" my words are cut off when his metal hand grabs my shoulder and shoves me into the wall behind me.

My panic spikes painfully as he clenches his jaw and glares deep into my eyes. I can feel anger radiating off of him, but I can tell it's not directed at me. In his eyes I can see that the name sparked recognition and I think it bothers him that he can't figure it out. Still, I can't keep the fear from my face.

"I don't know who the hell that is" he growls. I nod hurriedly, trying desperately to not die after making it so far.

His broken blue eyes burn into mine, clearly seeing my terror, and I watch a part of them soften. Immediately he rips his hand away from me and steps back, running a hand through his hair. A tortured look melts onto his face and he lets out a deep breath, not even able to look over at me. Carefully, I step away from the wall, my intrigued eyes on Bucky.

Whatever happened to him messed up his mind. I can't help but feel like someone did this intentionally, that someone is manipulating his mind. The Bucky Barnes the museum described was flirtatious and light-hearted and heroic. The man before me is quiet, murderous, and broken. I can't help the sympathy that floods into me again. My head tells me to get away from him, but the way he practically stumbled away from me when he realized he was scaring me convinces me, against my better judgement, to go with my gut.

To stay.

After all, he might be the person who can kill me easiest, but he's also the person that can protect me best from people who want me dead for reasons I don't understand.

"I'm sorry," I softly say, making him snap his wide-eyed gaze up to me.

"Why are you sorry?" He asks, making me squirm under his intense gaze. I shrug, playing with the ends of my hair.

"Someone should say it to you," I respond, making something in his eyes change.

Not able to hold his intense gaze anymore, I look down to the fire. All at once, I feel the exhaustion from the past few days rush over me. My adrenaline is gone and I feel like my body is made of lead.

"We should check the perimeter" Bucky announces and I nod, looking up to find him checking a handgun and settling it in a holster, "You can take the south and I'll take the north"

I force my legs to move, but find the world swimming around me. The sleep deprivation is tearing me apart, but I can't let it show.

"Okay" I manage out, able to take a few steps before my tired legs give out and my exhaustion takes over.

Before I can hit the floor, I feel a pair of strong arms catch me, one flesh and one metal. Bucky helps straighten me up and I force my half-closed eyes to open. It takes all of my energy to do so as my mind tries to force me into a state of sleep. I can see a vague look of concern on Bucky's face as his eyes systematically search my body for blood or a wound. When he sees none, Bucky looks back up at me with furrowed brows.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks, and I find my tongue lead-filled when I try to speak. I look over to see sunlight streaming into the warehouse and turn back to look at Bucky, who is holding all of my weight.

"I think that makes three days," I respond, my words slurred and groggy. I watch Bucky's eyes widen as mine try to slip closed again.

I hear him sigh and release my waist to pick me up, one hand under my knees and the other on my back. I just let him carry me, already half-asleep when he sets me down in front of the fire and puts one of the blankets over my body.

"Why haven't you slept?" he grinds out, crouching down beside me. In my tired stupor, I find my words coming out with much less of a filter.

"You were hunting my brother and me, remember?" I announce, yawning at the end and letting my eyes slip closed, "He slept, I watched"

Those are the last words I manage out before sleep tugs me under. Beside me, Bucky stands with a sigh, his burning gaze lingering over my peacefully sleeping form before stepping out to do the perimeter. What I don't know is the way inside, guilt crawls up his throat. He doesn't know what really made him choose to help me, he just saw the innocence in my eyes and couldn't bring himself to kill me.

That was the first time he'd defied a HYDRA order.

|||

"Why were you hunting us?"

It's been a few hours since I woke up and the sun has long set, bringing back the brisk temperatures. Bucky and I sit near the fire, but still worlds apart with him on one side of it and me on the other. At my question, I watch a muscle in his jaw tick. He looks up from the knife he'd been twirling to look at the fire.

"Your father was my original mission. When I brought him in, he asked my employer to make a trade," Bucky announces, looking over at me with the slightest hint of sympathy in his cold eyes, "Spare his life, take you and your brother's."

It should surprise me, but after the second day of running and unanswered calls I figured as much. Instead, I simply clench my jaw and look over at the fire to hide the way my heart splinters in my eyes. He may have been an awful father but he was still that—our father. At the very least I thought that would mean something to him.

I was wrong.

We sit in silence for a while, only the crackling of the fireplace filling the room. With every minute that Bucky is away from whoever his employer is, he seems more and more aware of himself. Still just as terrifying and just as brooding, but aware.

"Wanna talk about it?" he suddenly asks.

Now this surprises me. I look over at Bucky with slightly widened eyes to find him staring at the fire. He looks back at me, and for the first time there's not a trace of anger there. For a reason I can't explain, my stomach jumps at the look and I have to keep myself from falling into his rich blue eyes. I sigh and look down at the floor.

"Randall Bane was probably the worst dad you could ask for." I focus intently on my lap, biting my lip at the sudden rise of emotion within me, "Him setting a kill order on my brother and I? It should surprise me more than it did."

I don't tell him of the way I was beaten while shielding Cody or the way if I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, a cigarette was put out on my skin because it was more convenient. I let out another sigh, willing the burning emotion in my throat to go away and looking back up at Bucky. To my surprise, he's still looking at me. I give him a small smile.

"How about you? Wanna talk about it?" I ask, hoping deep within that he'll open up to me.

I don't know why I want him to so badly.

This time he sighs and looks over at the fire, a far away look in his eyes.

"The longer I'm away from them the clearer my head gets, but it's like there's this fog around it that I can't shake," Bucky informs, shaking his head and clenching his jaw tightly, "I don't know who I am, but I know the things I've done. That's what haunts me."

A shudder runs through me at the thought of all of the horrible things someone has made him do. While watching the pain run rampant through his features, a part of my heart breaks for him.

"Well, I don't know everything you've done but what I do know is that you saved my life and chose not to kill me even when I'll bet someone forced you to. If you're asking me, that counts for something." I interject. He looks over at me, his broken, fragmented gaze making a part of my heart crack again.

"Can you tell me about...well, what you know about me?" He asks reluctantly, that conflicted gaze back. Somewhere inside it I see a bit of hope, though. I smile softly and nod.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone just called you Bucky," I begin, telling the man before me the story of his life, "You fought in World War II and did a lot of good. And from what I hear, you were quite the ladies man."

At this, the corner of Bucky's lips pulls up into a smile that lasts briefly, but however brief it was it was there. The sight makes me smile, and immediately I have a desperate need to see that smile again.

"You were best friends with-"

"Steve" he interrupts, a far away look in his eyes. Shock pulses through me.

"I guess you know a little more than you thought." I whisper, the ghost of a smile on my lips. That half smile is back again and with it the butterflies.

"You can call me Bucky," he suddenly states, looking over at me with those intoxicating blue eyes, "I promise to not throw you into the wall this time."

I can't stop the surprised laugh that breaks out of my mouth and nod, looking over at the soldier who just made an actual joke.

"Only if you call me Caroline," I bargain, one eyebrow lifted. He nods.

"Deal."

"You should get some sleep, I'll keep watch," I inform out of habit, knowing that he'll need his rest if a fight comes. His eyebrows furrow and he looks over at me incredulously.

"Caroline," He begins, and I can't help the way my heart jumps at the sound of my name coming from his lips, "You don't need to protect me."

I stare right back, a determination set in my eyes.

"Everyone needs protecting sometimes." I respond, my words soft but unyielding. Something unreadable passes through Bucky's gaze, something that makes my heart lurch. Finally, he sighs and lays down, knowing I won't give in.

"You better wake me up in three hours. Otherwise, I just might shoot you."

A smile quirks onto my lips as I stare into the fire.

"Somehow, I doubt that."

|||

My sleep is deep and dreamless, the kind of sleep your body slips into when it's overly exhausted.

As per Bucky's request, I did in fact wake him up three hours later. Now, as I sleep, I relish in the piece of my unconscious mind.

Until I'm startled awake from it.

"Caroline!"

I gasp awake at the shout of my name, shooting straight up to see Bucky crouched down beside me.

"What's happening?" I ask, panic tight in my voice. He offers me a hand that I take gladly, letting him help me up.

"They've found us, they're outside right now" Bucky grits out, checking the gun in his holster before walking over to a wooden box in the corner that I hadn't spared much thought on before. He shoves it open and pulls out a large, heavy-looking gun and loads something into the front before walking over to me.

"What is that?" I ask, a slight tremble to my tone. He looks over and sees the blatant fear in my eyes. He must remember my reaction to the bloodshed from before, how unsettled it made me, because a part of his tough face softens.

I've never watched anyone die before. I've never even seen a dead body outside of a funeral before. The movies and the shows and the true crime podcasts, none of them come close to the guttural feeling of seeing the life drain from someone's eyes. All of this, it's too much at once.

"We have to get out of here, this is our best shot. My employer doesn't like it when I disobey."

Bucky voice is a rumble in the chaos of the warehouse, and I find myself clinging to the odd sense of security it brings me He walks out of the room and into the open area of the warehouse, the gun slung over his shoulder. I scramble to follow him, but stop short when I see what must be fifty men with guns raised, prepared to come in.

"Bucky" I breathe, my eyes going wide and fear dripping through me. Two to fifty, even for the assassin beside me that's a little much. Bucky looks over at me, but my eyes are trained outside. He spares the armed men a glance before jogging up to me.

"Winter Soldier, come out now and we will not kill you." a voice booms, probably over a speaker.

Bucky uses the hand that's not holding the terrifying gun to turn me to face him. I do, my wide eyes locking onto his oddly soothing ones.

"If we're gonna make it out of this alive, you've got to trust me," he urges, his eyes not leaving mine even when the voice on the speaker gives him his final warning, "You've protected everyone else, let me protect you. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, doll."

My heart leaps at the nickname he uses, and I don't know why but it makes it hard to think straight when he says it. His promise to protect me does exactly what it was meant to do. The sincerity in his eyes makes me believe he's telling me the truth.

I trust him.

I try not to let it show how much that promise really means to me. My entire life I've been the one to protect. Protect Cody from my dad, protect Cody from the grief of losing mom, protect my dad from losing his job and going to jail. For once, someone wants to protect me. It sparks something in me that I've never felt before.

"I trust you" I whisper, nodding to him. His eyes search mine for a moment more before he nods.

"You're not gonna want to look at this," Bucky breathes before using his flesh arm to lift the gun and using the metal one to tug me suddenly into him. He holds me tight to his torso as if to shield me from whatever is about to happen, both physically and visually.

Then I hear the world explode.

I don't need Bucky's iron grip on me to keep me close to him, because once I feel the heat of an explosion and the sounds of men screaming, I bury my face as much as I can into the shoulder of the black vest he's wearing. I feel him swivel us around and hear another shot before another explosion erupts. This one rattles my teeth and makes me hold onto Bucky a little tighter instinctively.

Then just as fast as it began, it's over.

I hear a gun clatter to the ground near me and silence settles over the smoking warehouse. The heat of flames still burns in the distance and even though I know that it's over, I can't bear to look. My entire body is shaking and I hate for feeling so out of control of my fear, but it's not easy being thrust from a mundane life into one flooded with blood and explosions and guns, as much as the movies would like to persuade us it is.

"It's over, Care. You can look" Bucky says softly.

Slowly, I pull away as he lets the grip of his metal arm ease. Around me, flames lick up the ceiling and front wall of the warehouse where the only remainder of the armed men is the cars and the blackened body parts that I'd rather not look at. I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair, nodding to try and come to terms with the carnage before me.

"Alright, what's your plan from here?" I ask, my voice still trembling but firmer than I expected. Bucky looks over at me in surprise. I furrow my brows at him.

"What is it?" I ask, to which he shakes his head quickly and looks down before looking back up at me.

"Nothing, it's just you're one of the strongest people I've ever met." He announces. This time, I'm the surprised one. Bucky sees the shock in my gaze so he gestures to the mess around him.

"I've seen grown, trained men experience this and cry. You're made of tougher stuff, Caroline," he tells me, nodding to me as if to show he respects me. I go to refute his words, but stop. I guess if I didn't realize how strong I really had to have been the past few days.

The past few years.

I go to respond when my eyes widen on something behind Bucky. A person, laying on the ground but raising their gun towards him. Panic shoots through me and I act without thinking.

"Bucky, look out!" I shout, scrambling in front of him just as the armed man shoots.

The sound of the gunshot makes the confusion in Bucky's eyes clear away and he doesn't waste a second ripping his handgun out and firing a single shot, managing to nail the man right between the eyes and making him slump to the ground. I'm not paying much attention to it, though.

The second the armed man shot, an intense fire exploded in my torso. Now, as he's dead and Bucky's turning back to me, I can't see the expression on his face because my eyes are too focused on the blood seeping between my hands that I press firmly to my stomach. Slowly, I peel them away to see blood gushing out of my stomach, the pain almost unbearable. I look up at Bucky, my eyes wide.

His are wider.

There's an unbelieving look in his eyes as Bucky realized what has just happened, what I just did.

"Bucky," I manage out, before my world swoops and my knees buckle.

"Caroline!"

He rushes forward and catches me, not wasting a second to scoop me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. One of my hands that's pressed against my stomach falls, hanging down as he swiftly carries me back to the room we were in before. Bucky clears off a table in the room and sets me down on it. My head rolls to one side, the blood loss already making me tired and weak.

"What the hell where you thinking? Why would you do that?" Bucky asks, his voice tight with panic as he rummages around and grabs what he needs to help me.

"He was going to shoot you" I respond, my words slurred. I hear a number of things clamber onto the table and feel the bottom half of my shirt peeling off of my skin and being cut off to expose my bloodied torso.

"You should've let him" Bucky reprimands, pressing a cloth to my torso that must be covered in alcohol because my skin begins to burn painfully. I cry out in pain, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut.

"It's okay, just breathe. You're gonna be fine," Bucky soothes, keeping the cloth pressed for a few more moments and using his other hand to brush away my hair from my face. Oddly enough, the motion does calm me down.

"I don't have any painkillers left, so this is gonna hurt doll," He warns, moving his hand and the cloth away. I bite my lip and nod as much as I can.

"Okay, okay," I breathe, trying to prepare myself for what's about to come, "I trust you"

His hands freeze at my words and I'm guessing he's still not used to hearing them. But I mean them, I mean them more than I ever have in my life.

Then I feel a pair of metal pliers go into my stomach.

I don't stay awake much longer after that, the excruciating pain much more than my mind can bear. I'm glad for the unconsciousness when it comes and I already feel my throat is raw from screaming.

|||

When I wake up, I'm in a car again.

Night has fallen yet again, telling me an entire day has passed with me unconscious. I stir, sitting up slightly only for an intense ache in my stomach to make a groan rise from my lips. Bucky looks over at me, tearing his eyes away from the empty highway to me. When he does, I smile softly at him.

"Hi" I greet, watching as a small smile pulls onto his lips and he turns forward again.

"Hey," he responds, his metal hand on the wheel and his human one resting, "How are you feeling?"

I place a hand to my stomach and try again to sit up, this time successfully. I nod, running a hand through my wild hair.

"Pretty good, all things considered" I inform, my eyes taking in the scenery as we pull off the highway and move towards what I assume to be a rest stop.

Good, because I'm hungrier than I think I've ever been.

"Alright, I'll get us some food. Stay in here and lock the doors" Bucky instructs as he pulls into the parking lot of the first gas station we see. I nod, not needing to be told twice to follow his orders.

I lock the doors once he steps out, a red hoodie on and a baseball hat pulled low on his head. I feel my heart jump at the sight, seeing him as a normal guy bringing an oddly attractive edge to Barnes. I shake my head and look down at my lap, trying to ignore the inexplicable attraction and pull that I feel towards him.

My mind flows over to Cody, and I can't help but be the slightest bit nervous. I hope beyond everything that my diversion was enough to let him get somewhere safe. I can only hope that he's still safe. Being this far away from him and not knowing whether or not he's okay makes anxiety sit in the center of my chest.

My thoughts are interrupted by the rapping of knuckles against my window. I jump, but only slightly. It's probably Bucky back quicker than I expected. When I look up, though, my heart lurches into my throat. My eyes widen only slightly at the foreign man standing outside my door. He looks normal enough, but I've gotten into such a habit of looking over my shoulder that I know better than to trust him.

"Hey, can you help me with something really quick?" he calls to me through the glass.

Not knowing how to respond, I simply shrug and pretend like I can't hear him. My heart is hammering in my chest as I point to my ear and shrug, watching as the man sighs and looks towards the store.

He's looking to see where Bucky is.

Panic overtakes me and I immediately cast a quick look around the front of the car while the man is still looking at the store to see if I can't find anything to defend myself with should he smash my window. I look to the ignition to see Bucky took the keys, probably to keep anyone from smashing into his side and driving off without me. Then, just as I'm about to go into a full-blown panic, I catch the gleam of black metal underneath the driver's seat.

Bucky must've put an extra gun there.

I quickly look away and back at the man outside just in time for him to look back at me. Underneath his feigned politeness, I can see agitation and desperation.

"I could really use your help with my car, miss. It won't start" he calls out again, this time louder since I told him I couldn't hear before. Knowing I have no excuse this time, I improvise to the best of my ability.

"Okay!" I respond, smiling at him through my adrenaline and 'accidentally' drop my phone at the bottom of the driver's seat. I look down towards it and feign an embarrassed smile.

"One sec" I call back, to which he gives me the fakest smile and nod.

He's growing impatient, I can sense it. He knows I know. I drop down as fast as I can and wrap my hand around the gun underneath the seat. The feeling is foreign to my hands, but I don't let it bother me. I swing it up, grabbing on with my right hand too just as my window smashes open. I gasp at the sight of the barrel of his own gun aiming for me. Thankfully, my gun is already raised and, with bile in my throat and trembling hands, I pull the trigger before he can shoot me.

The recoil makes my teeth chatter and the noise booms across the empty parking lot in front of the gas station, making my ears ring. Something warm splatters all over me, and a distinctively crimson liquid sprays the shattered window of the car. In front of me, the man stumbles back, clutching his shoulder and letting his gun clatter to the ground. My eyes go wide, my mouth filling with bile.

I'm going to be sick.

I hold in my nausea as the man stumbles to his car and gets in, driving off as fast as he can. Just as his tires are screeching on the pavement to receive medical attention at a hospital, at least I hope, I see Bucky shove open the doors to the gas station, panic heavy on his features. His eyes catch on the car speeding away and I watch concern flooded with a touch of desperation and anger flood his face. Bucky snaps his gaze to the car and sprints toward it, skidding to a halt and trying to open his door only to find it locked.

I'm in such a daze that I can't seem to remember to unlock it. My eyes are locked onto the blood that's splattered on my hands, some of the warm liquid on my face. The gun in my hands trembles, but I'm snapped out of my trance when I hear someone run around to my side of the car, the side with the smashed window. On instinct, I gasp and point the gun again only to find Bucky staring at me with wide eyes.

"It's me! It's me, you're safe!" he urges, reaching in through the now open window, making sure to avoid the shards of broken glass and unlocking the doors. Bucky swings open my door and bends in front of me, his eyes flying over my body and looking desperately for an injury.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, looking up at the blood that's on me. His blue eyes are heavy with concern, but my trembling hands and wide eyes can't seem to focus on anything but the gun in my bloody hands.

"It's not mine," I manage out, referring to the blood on my body. The gun shakes as my hands do, tears welling in my eyes that are locked on to it. A pair of hands, one warm and the other cold, grab onto my trembling ones and gently pull the gun away, casting it into the back of the car.

"Caroline," Bucky mumbles, his voice sending shivers down my spine and his hand sparking warmth on my freezing skin when I feel it cup my cheek and turn it so I look at him. His eyes soften at the look upon my face.

"I shot someone," I whisper, my voice quivering as I do and my vision blurring with tears, "He smashed the window and pulled a gun on me and I shot him"

I know and so does Bucky that I did the right thing, but my stomach is still churning. I know the man will be okay, the wound didn't look too serious, but I still shot someone. His metal hand comes up to the other cheek, both hands now resting on my face soothingly.

"It's okay, he was driving away, that means he's going to be okay. You did the right thing, Caroline" He assures, rubbing his thumb over the skin of my cheek.

I nod, knowing he's right and trying to force myself to snap out of it.

"Alright, we have to go before someone comes looking for us again. We can stop at another exit" Bucky informs, taking his hands away and shutting my door only to jog around to his and get in.

I can't help but feel cold and empty without his touch, whether it be metal or human. As the car starts and we pull out of the gas station and back onto the highway, I feel Bucky looking over at me periodically. My eyes are locked onto the highway, though, and not a single thought is bouncing through my mind.

Before I know it, we've pulled off at another exit and into another gas station. When Bucky turns the car off and gets out, shutting his door behind him, I feel a bout of panic begin to set in. He's going to leave me again, He's going to leave me alone in-

My door opens and I look up to see Bucky standing outside of it with his hand outstretched to me.

"This time, I think it's best if you came with me" he states, making my panic dissipate and relief flood in its place. I nod and gingerly put my hand in his, trying to ignore the way sparks immediately soar where our skin touches. Bucky helps me get out of the car, my stomach screaming in pain when I move. Eventually, I'm out and walking with Bucky towards the gas station.

He keeps my hand in his.

The bell above the door chimes when we walk in and Bucky immediately leads me to where the bathrooms are. He casts a quick glance around to make sure we're not being followed this time before leading me inside the men's room. He shuts and locks the door once he's in and checks to make sure no one else is inside, making a bit more of my panic release as we have the entire place alone.

"Here, let's get you cleaned up" Bucky says softly, grabbing my waist gently and setting me as cautiously as he can on top of the counter so I'm just above eye level with him.

For the most part, besides a light tremor in my hands, I've stopped shaking and calmed down. I didn't kill him, only hurt him. Still, though, I fear that moment will be burned into my brain for a while.

Wordlessly, Bucky grabs a paper towel and wets it. Then, he grabs my right hand and gently begins to rub the man's blood off of it. I sit silently, watching him work. He moves on to the other hand, wiping it clean quickly. All the while, I feel my heart hammering in my chest, not because of fear or anxiety or nerves or even trauma.

Because of something else I can't explain.

When he lets go of my hand, his blue eyes turn up to my hazel ones and he leans forward, bringing the paper towel to my cheek. The material is rough against my skin, he moves it so gently that I hardly even notice it. His baseball hat is still on, keeping him from getting too close to me.

In a way, I'm grateful and disappointed because of it.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the blood is gone. His fingers, though, linger for a moment longer on my cheek, making butterflies erupt in my stomach.

It's crazy to think how only two or three days ago, Bucky was hell-bent on killing me.

When his hand finally drops, he gives me a small, close-lipped smile.

"There, it's all gone" Bucky states, making me smile softly in return.

"Thanks" I respond, looking down at my now clean hands. Surprisingly, the sight does wonders to ease my mind and heart about what transpired tonight.

"Now, we can get some food and then head ou-" Bucky's words die out.

I look up, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. My confusion only intensifies when I see his eyes locked on my arm. Slowly, as if he's scared to touch me, he lifts the sleeve of my shirt and I take in a sharp breath.

There, on full display, are the cigarette marks left by my father.

I look over at Bucky, my eyes wide only to find his jaw clenched. He's hardly moving, hardly breathing, as his hand reaches up to gently trace one of the marks.

"Who did that to you?" Bucky nearly growls. I open my mouth to deflect, but choose not to. It would be harder to ignore it than just simply tell him the truth. I sigh and look away from his gaze and to my hands. I can't bear to look at him when I speak again.

"My dad really was the worst you could get," I offer, keeping my eyes on my hands as emotion rears into my tone, "It started when my mom died. Cody would call me and tell me that dad was getting physical, and I..."

I pause, trying to keep the tears from my eyes as I look back up and over Bucky's shoulder to the wall behind him.

"I couldn't let him get hurt. I forced him to text me whenever dad would get angry and I'd come over and..." I let my words die out, not even wanting to say it aloud, "Like I said, I'd do anything to protect my brother"

Carefully, I bring my eyes over to Bucky's. My heart skips when I see the unreadable look sitting in them. He takes my hand in his, making my mind ease and my heart race.

"Just when I think you're done amazing me, doll" he breathes, making my stomach flutter. Our eyes stay locked for a moment more before he reaches out and helps me down from the counter, setting me carefully back to the floor.

"Just so you know," Bucky begins again, placing a burning hand at the small of my back and looking over at me as we walk to the door to the bathroom, "I can't promise I won't kill your father if I ever see him again"

I don't know why, but the statement makes a smile tug at my lips. I guess, for the first time, I feel truly protected and cared for. As we walk out of the bathroom together, I nudge him slightly.

"For his sake, let's hope you never meet"

|||

"I've thought of a place we can go"

Bucky's words pull me out of my thoughts of Cody. The empty food wrappers sit in the backseat, long eaten. The sun is beginning to rise, and with it is the hope that I'll survive to see the next sunrise. I look over at him, intrigue filtering my gaze.

"It's risky, especially since I'm still not fully remembering who I am, but it's our best shot" he states. Just by looking at the man beside me, I can tell he's scared to do whatever he has in mind.

"Bucky, whatever it is. I'll be right here" I assure, surprising myself with the words. I didn't realize it before now, but I'd much rather be with him than without him. He looks over at me and smiles before turning back to the road.

As he works up the courage to say his plan, I furrow my brows at the 'Welcome to New York' sign that we pass.

"The only people who can really protect us and even help us find your brother are the Avengers."

My heart jumps and I can't help the excitement that floods into me. I look over at him, my eyes wide and bright. He smiles at the happy look on my face and continues speaking. That smile...

That smile of his undoes me.

"It gives me a chance to reconnect with Steve and see if I can't figure this out and they have the best resources to find your brother" Bucky informs, making the both of us happy.

"I think that's the best idea yet, I really hope you can figure everything out" I wish, smiling softly at Barnes. He looks over and smiles.

"Me too"

We drive along for a while, getting closer and closer to the location of the Avengers Tower. In the few bits of silence where we're not talking, I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when we get to the Tower and I get my brother back. Eventually, my assassin and I will have to part ways. I don't know why, but the thought of that leaves a hollow hole in my chest.

Maybe I do know why, but I'm too scared to admit it.

Before I know it, we're pulling up to the tower with a large A on the front. When we park, I look over at Bucky.

"You're probably about to freak some people way out" I warn, picking up his hat and setting it low on his head, "You might want to keep your head down until the moment's right"

He nods at me, offering me a small smile before looking over to the massive tower with a deep breath.

"You ready, doll?"

I nod, biting my lip at the thought of finding Cody.

"Ready"

We step out of the car together and walk into the Avengers Tower, all the while receiving some pretty strange looks from people walking by. I gather up my courage and walk up to the front desk where a woman sits typing away at a computer. Bucky stands beside me, his head down.

"Hi, can I help you today?" the woman asks politely, looking up at me and Bucky.

This is it.

I draw in a deep breath and nod, returning the woman's polite smile.

"Yes actually, we, uh, we need to see the Avengers" I inform, knowing full well how absolutely absurd that sounds. That's like walking up to the White House without an appointment and telling someone that you need to see the president.

The lady gives me an odd look, one that she sends over to Bucky and then back to me. My heart is racing and I'm hoping beyond everything that she'll just let us in to see them.

"I'm sorry, but you need an appointment for that" she informs, looking back down at her computer.

"I don't mean to be rude ma'am, but we really need to see them. It's urgent and I promise you it's not nothing" I continue, making the woman look up at me skeptically. She studies my face before sighing.

"Alright, but you have to get cleared to go up. We don't allow outside, unauthorized weapons or sharp metals" she informs, waving over two guards with metal-detecting wands to check us.

My heart goes to my throat. This is not going to go very well. Bucky and I share the same nervous look as they approach, and beside us I can hear the lady making a call upstairs to let the Avengers know that they have people visiting.

We won't even make it to the elevators though.

"Hold out your arms, please" the guard who walks up to me asks. I do so, letting him scan his wand over me. Within a few seconds, I'm cleared. I look over to Bucky, who holds his arms out too and gives me a nervous look.

The second the wand goes near his arm, it begins to blare. The second guard's wand begins to beep at his hip, signaling a gun. The two guards jump back, both drawing their guns and pointing them at Bucky.

"Woah, woah! Calm down!" I shout, jumping in front of Bucky and holding my hands out.

My heart is racing and I can tell Bucky is anything but happy that once again I've put myself between him and a gun.

"Show us your weapon!" one guard yells, making a tense emotion flood the room. Off to the side, I can see the astonished clerk make another call and speak frantically with who's on the other side.

"Just calm down, we don't want to hurt anyone" I try again, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

Then, to my surprise, one of them shoots.

I gasp at the sound and immediately prepare to be shot again only for Bucky to step in front of me and use his arm to deflect the bullet. The sound of metal hitting metal resounds in the room and the silence following the gunshot leaves everyone in silence. I look up at Bucky in shock, his metal arm in front of me. He looks over his shoulder at me, his slightly concerned eyes searching mine to make sure I'm okay. I nod slowly, knowing full well that I should be shot right now. Once he sees that I'm unharmed, the glare in his gaze tells me I'm going to get a lecture later on not putting myself between him and bullets.

"Put your hands up or I swear I'll shoot again!" the guard shouts, making me jump.

I grab onto Bucky's arm that's in front of my body out of instinct, and he keeps it assuredly in front of me, ready to deflect any more shots.

"Just listen-" Bucky begins, but the guard shouts again.

"I mean it, now!"

"Alright, would everyone just take a chill pill for a second?" the voice of Tony Stark announces, making hope flood through me.

I look over to see Tony emerging from the elevator, his hands held out in front of him as to calm the situation. Behind him, I see Natasha Romonaff and Steve Rogers follow. When I see Steve, I can sense the shock that rolls off of Bucky. I look up to him to see his jaw clenched and his eyes on his best friend. His hat is lowered to hide his face.

"What's going on here?" Nat asks, looking over at us with curiosity in her eyes.

"We just want to talk to you all, please" I inform, my eyes going between the three Avengers.

They all look at each other before looking back at me. Steve steps up, his shield in hand.

"Who are you?" he asks, and I know now's the time. Bucky must too because he slowly lift his gaze so his face is on full display.

"You're Steve, right?" Bucky asks, his voice clouded with confusion.

The shield drops from Steve's hands. I watch pure disbelief pull onto his features as he takes in his best friend that supposedly died all those years ago.

"Bucky?" he breathes, almost afraid that this won't all be real.

"Hey man" Bucky responds, his hand lowering from in front of me as we both understand that our danger is over. Tony looks over at him incredulously.

"As in Bucky Barnes? Isn't he...you know, dead?" Tony asks, to which Nat elbows him sharply.

"Supposed to be, but that's not how things worked out" Bucky responds. That's when Steve steps forward, almost unsure of his movements.

"His mind is a little lost, he needs help figuring it out" I inform, making sure Steve is aware that Bucky's memory isn't fully there. Steve stops in his step and nods, not being able to stop the smile that grows on his face.

I watch Tony send a look towards Steve before stepping up to us.

"Of course we'll help, we've got some of the smartest people in the universe in here" he informs, making me laugh. Tony sends a look between Bucky and I.

"And you can bring...I'm sorry, what's your name?" Tony asks me. I smile.

"Caroline"

He nods and turns back to Bucky.

"You can bring Caroline along," He states, making more relief pump through me, "I don't think everything would go very well if you didn't"

And then, just like that, we're on our way up the tower.

|||

"So, he was hunting you because your father traded his life for you and your brother's?"

I nod at Natasha, who sits with Steve and I just outside the lab where Bruce Banner and Tony are checking out Bucky. Sympathy is drawn across Nat and Steve's faces.

"He cornered us in a motel and I stalled enough to let my brother get away. I don't know how, but I managed to get through whatever mind manipulation they used on him to get him to help me." I continue, sighing and running a hand through my hair, "We've been on the run since then"

"Thank you," Steve suddenly says, making me lift my gaze to his, "For bringing Bucky back, he's the closest thing to a brother I have"

I smile softly and nod.

"Of course"

Nat and Steve share a look before Steve speaks again.

"And it's because I know what it feels like to lose a brother that I want to ask if you want us to help find your brother? I know it's scary, not knowing where he is or if he's safe" Steve says, making my entire face light up.

"That would be so amazing, you have no idea" I rush out, bringing a smile to Nat and Steve's faces.

"Cody Bane, right? I'll get right on it" Nat says before standing and walking away.

"I've been more a mother than a sister to him through all of this" I inform, looking down at my hands and back up at Steve who watches me intently, "He's a tough kid. He doesn't give up easy"

"Neither do you, I'll bet" Steve responds, looking at me knowingly.

I look over at the lab, managing to see in through the glass and watch Bucky get blood drawn and tests done. As I do, my heart tugs. Once I get my brother back, I'll have to leave him. In the past few days we've been together, I've found a connection with Bucky that I've never had with anyone before.

Now I have to leave him.

"Have you told him yet?"

At Steve's sudden and vague question, I look over at him with my brows furrowed. He smiles knowingly at me and casts a look towards his best friend.

"How you feel, have you told him how you feel?" Steve clarifies, making my heart jump into my throat and my eyes widen. I immediately begin to shake my head.

"Oh, no I don't-" I begin to ramble, but Steve cuts me off with a light laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Caroline. Out of every girl Bucky has ever been around, he's never looked at any of them the way he looks at you." Steve informs, making my lips part slightly in shock at the very thought that Bucky could feel the same pull that I do. I don't have time to respond when Nat jogs back in with a tablet in her hand.

"Got him, Cody Bane is alive and well, hiding out at a police station in NYC" Nat informs, setting the tablet down to show the camera feed, "Smart kid"

Relief like I've never felt it floods over me. I look at the screen to see my brother sitting and messing around with an officer's things in the middle of a police station. I laugh, tears of pure joy making it past my defenses and slipping down my cheeks.

"I contacted the department, they're gonna transfer him over in an armored vehicle and police escort. He'll be here within the hour" Nat informs. I nod, standing and throwing my arms around the woman's neck. She gasps in surprise.

"Thank you" I whisper.

She smiles and hugs me back. When we pull away, she nods to me.

"Anytime"

"What's the celebration?"

At the sound of Bucky's voice, I whirl around. He looks calmer than before and intrigue lights up his features when he sees the happiness on my face.

"Cody's alive. He'll be here soon" I inform, not being able to stop the smile on my face. I watch a smile pull on his lips as well.

"Yeah? That's great, Care!" he exclaims. Quickly after, though, I think it hits us both that within the hour, when my brother gets here, we're going to be splitting up. The other people in the room must notice it too.

"Let's give them a moment to talk" Bruce suggests, leading everyone out of the room. Once they're gone, I look back to Bucky with a sad, conflicted smile.

"I guess this is it" I announce, trying to keep the crushing sadness away from my heart, but it's impossible. Bucky lets out a sigh, his blue eyes locked onto my hazel ones.

"I'm gonna miss you, doll" he states, walking up and pulling me into a hug, "Thank you...for everything"

I let out a shaky breath as he does, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting his warmth relax me. This time, when a single tear escapes, it isn't for Cody. We pull away eventually and our eyes lock, my heart skipping when they do.

"I hope you figure out everything" I say, to which he nods but has the most serious look on his face I've seen in days. Our faces are inches apart and I can hardly breathe. The pull that I have to him is so intense that I want nothing more than to close the gap between us.

I don't, though.

Being this near to him is too painful, so I step back and run a hand through my hair. I don't even say anything else, too scared that if I do my feelings will be blatantly clear in my tone. Instead, I just turn around and begin to walk away. I make it a few steps too until a metal arm closes around my arm and pulls me back. I stumble as I turn around, confusion in my face.

"What are you-"

My words are cut off when Bucky keeps his metal hand on my waist and brings his other one to my cheek and crashes his lips to mine. Instantly, I melt into him. My skin feels as though it's been set on fire and yet I can't seem to burn hot enough. His grip on me tightens as his lips work against mine with a desperation that steals my breath. This kiss alone is enough to make me realize that I'm falling fast and hard and it's going to hurt like hell to leave him.

When we finally pull apart, Bucky rests his forehead against mine, his hair tickling my face as he does.

"I know I'm not the man I was before, but-"

I cut him off this time, pulling away so he can see the sincerity in my gaze.

"I'm falling for the man you are now, not the man you were then." I whisper, my heart slamming in my chest as the words leave my mouth. His eyes widen slightly at my confession

"Caroline, you deserve so much better than me" he rasps. For just a moment, I think he's going to say goodbye, and my heart begins to tremble.

Bucky must see the crestfallen look in my eyes because he brings his metal hand up to cup the other side of my cheek so he holds my face. He stares down at me with such intensity that I feel my legs turn to jelly, and I have to tighten my hold on him to stay upright.

"Don't think for a single second that I don't want you," he whispers, making my heart jump, "Now, I'm not as good at the love thing as I was back then but-

"Love?" I interrupt, my eyebrows raising suddenly at his choice of words.

Bucky fumbles with his words for a solid minute before he finally gives up and decides to just press his lips gently to mine, taking my breath away yet again. When he pulls back, he rubs one of his thumbs across my cheek and says his next words with such conviction that my stomach explodes into a thousand butterflies.

"Stay," Bucky suddenly says, his eyes searching mine, "Stay here, we can protect you, I can protect you."

That's all I wanted him to say, that's all I wanted to hear. For someone, for him, to ask me to stay. I smile softly up at him and nod.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried"

Bucky smiles and places another quick kiss to my lips.

"Looks like I've still got it"

I laugh, leaning my head against his shoulder and letting the safety and warmth wrap around me.

It's crazy to think that only a few days ago, I was his target, his prey.

And here I am, falling in love with my hunter at a heartbreaking speed

#bucky barnes #bucky x original character #bucky x oc #marvel #mcu #avengers #angst #fluff #oneshot #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #the winter solider

225 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 months

Text

So I Did A Thing

And that thing was go a wee bit insane for the new year and update 4 fics and post 3 more! So rather than spam everyone with individual posts for each update, here's a list of em!!

A Heart Once Hardened (Hopes, One Day)

BNHA multichap set in the Feather-Light and Ember-Bright verse. Get your newest free dose of Enji and Dabi angst here >:3.

Good Luck Bead

Non-canon CfR oneshot where Nyx faceplants into the past and succeeds in not running into any Plot Important Characters for- less than five minutes.

A Fairytale (That's Full of Charm)

If anyone remembers me threatening to make a ground-up rewrite of RWBY the show- this is the first chapter of that. I have my au hammers and Plenty Of Ideas planned. :3

Made This Promise (Always I Dreamed About You)

Chapter 3 of Made This Promise/OC-insert Raven is UP! We get Qrow pov this time. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about- it's oc-insert as Raven in RWBY but with a bunch of other tropes and angsty things thrown in.

Broken (But Never to Pieces)

Latest entry in Blood of My Blood verse!! Cor-centric, Drautos-centric look at what happened with them to change things so much in this au. Finally. Second chapter is UP.

Worlds Unseen (Calling You and Me)

Horizon Zero Dawn/FFXV crossover where each chapter alternates in setting. Chapter 11 is finally up!! We're covering the Proving let's gooo.

Nothing But A Voice Within (Calls Me Home)

Chapter 4 of my Demon Slayer fixit fic! OC-centric, mind the tags, also the rating went from T to M for reasons that you can surmise from the tags probably. The chapter that bumps it to M has not yet been posted so you are in the clear for now if that is a concern.

And there we go! All my updates for this year so far. Make sure you're signed in on ao3 to view them, as all my fics are locked (thank you AI scraping and corpos)

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #RWBY rewrite verse #Feather Light and Ember Bright verse #Worlds Unseen verse #Blood of My Blood (That Was Shed on the Throne) verse #Child of My Blood verse #Calling for Rain verse #Always I Dreamed verse

10 notes · View notes

thedastrash · 4 months

Text

OC Tag Game!

Ooo thanks for tagging me @kittynomsdeplume & @cleverblackcat!! This took a while to get to but it was very fun!

Favorite OC: Evil question to start. I can't possibly choose unless I set some limits for myself so I'm going to cheat and say my most popular OC. I have the most art of her by no fault of my own. Velaneth Surana is my canon HoF and Warden Commander. Vela is a very open person: never lies, has no body shame, and loves to learn about other people and where they’ve come from. She walks into every hostile situation with her best foot forward trying to make friends and allies.

Newest OC: I’m slowly congealing my ideas about Orlagh Trevelyan because I’ve been imagining what the different cultures of the Freemarches look like - especially on the coast where trade is frequent. She’s from Ostwick of course and trained as a Templar as a youth but spent summers at a monastery with her aunt in Wycome which I imagine a bit like Morocco. I’ve been staring at my Pinterest boards imagining her lonely days growing up and what it means for her to leave her walls behind and be thrust into this new organization with all these people and their differing ideals. I'm particularly interested in exploring her being a templar but having some latent magic that has been tied up in her templar abilities so long she didn't realize it was ever there.

Oldest OC: In DA my oldest OC is Topaz Brosca from my original run of origins. The one where my save got deleted right before the Landsmeet lol rip. I've recently revisited her and I'm falling in love with her again. She's a hot trans girl and stabby rogue and she falls in love with the surface world immediately. My oldest OC ever though... might be a self insert hobbit character I made for myself as a child before I knew what fandom or fanfiction was lol! I think her name was Charlie? my memory is BAD but I know that's a name I loved as a kid.

Meanest OC: Szadrine Aeducan is my final origin from DAO to get an OC and I'm slowly growing deeply obsessed. She’s involved in (literal) cutthroat Orzammar politics and ends up skipping the warden bit after the whole betrayal and exile thing. She simply deserts at Ostagar. I think she should end up kicking ass in Orlais because she would be so good at the Game.

Softest OC: Bearnard Cousland is a soft, sweet, bookish baby-gay who would rather bury himself in his research in a library than seek glory or fight battles or do politics. Bearn is the second son so he’s gotten away with avoiding some of that but of course he has to attend his lessons and participate in the tourneys. His scholarly work lends him some political savvy since he’s intimately familiar with Ferelden’s history, but he’s most interested in lost texts and translating ancient works. He never had good gay role models growing up and thinks of himself as homely and forgettable, so he never felt like that was an option for him, but Maker does he ever pine lol!

Most Aloof/Standoffish OC: Gotta be Irene Amell. She's a real bitch with resting murder face. Incredibly unapproachable, intimidating Domme energy. Tends to default dislike people and keep to herself, prefering to slink around and eavesdrop than talk to people for info. She’s very protective and loving toward her close friends and lovers, but it’s hard to get close in the first place.

Dumbest OC: Myrna Hawke is a smart woman, she's an accomplished mage, enjoys reading, quick witted, but she has zero self-awareness and has a very hard time even understanding how she feels, much less how other people feel about her. She’s absolutely clueless and fully blindsided by anyone’s interest & gets tongue tied and stupid when she’s horny. She’s also very impulsive and acts before she thinks things through which leads to getting into a lot of dumb shit.

Smartest OC: There are excellent contenders here: Bearn with his book smarts and Topaz with her street smarts, but I want to say Ithadhea Mahariel because even though they are incredibly dense when it comes to interpersonal relations, their wealth of traditional knowledge from their clan is incredible. They are not really a people person, usually quiet and solitary, but they took to hunting like they were born for it and eagerly learned everything in the realm of woodcraft and survival. They know all their clan's stories by heart and and know resources by seasons in a way that is part of their internal clock. I think this kind of generational knowledge probably outstrips the scope of any of my other OC's knowledge.

OC I’d Be Friends With: Edric Cadash is so laid back and friendly I think he’d be one of the easiest to make friends with. I want to have tea and gossip with him and have that turn into late night drinking and telling stories by the fire. Vela would be an instant friend as well; she wants to befriend everyone and she'd have an easy time with me!

no pressure tagging some of my DA OC enjoying friends: @sinquisition, @highwayphantoms, @lets-get-brave, @sandalinbohemia, @dismalzelenka and anyone else who wants to share! Feel free to @ me so I can see your post! <3

#dragon age #dao #dai #da2 #dragon age oc #ask me about my ocs #too many wardens now lol but I love them all #with my one hawke! lol very outnumbered #there's lots of inquisitors too I'm just in a warden place more often. only a few get mentioned usually but they all live in my head.#I tend to think of Vela as the HoF and the rest of the warden origins as companions or other interesting characters who don't move the plot #please don't make Bearn be commander #and you don't want Szadrine as warden commander... but maybe she should steal a throne #etc etc I could go on

10 notes · View notes

choicesmc · 12 days

Note

okay because i still have tabletop gaming on the brain (and I know you play now hehe):

would any of your MCs/OCs ever join a D&D campaign? (or something more niche like Ars Magica?) What would their classes be? What parts would they most enjoy?

ty sunshine! 💖

thank you for dropping by o/

Rin -> funny enough I actually headcannon that Rin starts a rival D&D club after trying to join Edgar’s table. She thought it’d be fun. Anyhow, she’s usually DM but on the rare occasion the group’s playing a one-shot, Rin’s often a barbarian. Though she’s dabbled with fighters and warlocks, barbarian is the only one that really sticks xD I think she really enjoys playing a character that’s just allowed to feel, who’s allowed to use and acknowledge intense emotions to the team’s benefit rather than their detriment, if that makes sense? When it comes to campaigns, she leans more towards ‘dungeon’ mechanics (<- ie getting quest after quest with less importance on fleshing out a character/role play) over anything else! (Also: she is a dice-hoarder, what can she say? Dice are pretty)

*Rams -> really wanted to play D&D but couldn’t find time for it… now, xe would join a campaign (if offered) but doesn’t go out looking for one. Out of all my MCs, co’d be the most open to other ttrpgs though just know co will almost always be the healer. In D&D, ze splits between cleric and druid with a mean lean towards druid. Rams is very much a roleplayer, ze doesn’t mind lots of battles but they take last priority to really getting in character and playing out a story.

Fiona -> I think he plays on the off chance if he happens to have the time + the energy. Like, you might find him wandering into a dice store and dropping in on a game every couple of months. But also, Fiona is the type whose character is a self-insert. The only difference between Ivo and Fiona is that Ivo is a traveling bard and, arguably, Fiona is not. I’d say, Fiona tends to prefer non-homebrew campaigns because 1) they are familiar and he can really focus on knowing his party members even if for just one night and 2) homebrew campaigns make him feel more bad about not being a consistent party member. (Also: only has the beginners’ pack blue dice)

Jiahao -> never played. Would play to satisfy her curiosity if a friend really wanted her to play with them. If she did ever play, his character would be a rogue. Like fallen noble turned crooked criminal type!

*Wanted to add: in Rams’ universe, there’s a D&D equivalent called Immortal Realms in which the BOLAS characters are part of a pre-made campaign kit

#tiny tidbits #fiona lightwood #asks answered #rin #rams erndheart #jet

5 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 1 year

Text

Poetic Tragedy (Part 12)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess?

There's a little smut in this one for you guys looool

A/N: I can’t believe I was so inspired that I churned out a 12 part fic lmao. For some reason, I always struggle with writing long fics for Billy. For other fandoms, I can legit get up to an 80 part story. I think it's because I prefer writing OCs rather than reader inserts, but I know last I asked on here before I vanished that the Billy fandom prefers reader stories.

The longest Billy fic I’ve done was Red, White and Blue which was a collab with @blanchedelioncourt and I think the only reason I managed that was ‘cause she was cheering me on the whole way and it was so fun writing together. That was also an OC story, not a reader one, and I did all Billy’s parts (which was ridiculously fun to do lol) while she did her OCs. I’d love to be super inspired to write a long ass Billy fic like I do with other fandoms. When I was away from this blog I wrote a 75 part Spike x OC story for the Buffy fandom lmaoooo

—------------------

One year later

“You’re getting really good at that,” Curtis murmured and you would have seen his encouraging smile but you didn’t look up from your task. Your tongue poked out of your mouth in concentration as you carefully threaded the needle through the skin, watching the wound close before your eyes. You’d stitched that many wounds these past few months that your hands didn't shake when you did it anymore.

“Ow, Jesus!”

Your eyes snapped up to your patient then, dangerously narrowing in warning at him. One hand was settled on his bare chest, the other holding the needle above the wound which was just below the shoulder.

“Do you want this stitched up or not?” you asked with a short tone.

“Curt, I think your little apprentice needs to work on her bedside manner,” he drawled with a smirk.

“Careful, Billy, or I might stitch your mouth up next,” you gave him a saccharine smile and he looked at you like he wasn't sure if you actually meant your words or not. You heard Curtis snort from across the room as you continued with closing the wound, tying it off like Curtis had shown you before cutting the thread. He hadn't even hurt himself on a mission or doing something brave. Instead, he’d hurt himself because he decided it was a good idea to go up a ladder after he’d had a few drinks.

“What d'you think, Doc? Is it gonna leave a scar?” he asked with a self-deprecating smile since he was already littered with them, his eyes looking over to Curtis. Your eyes narrowed again and you poked him scarily close to his wound and he yelped, looking at you in shock. You never allowed him to talk shit about himself, especially when it came to his scars. Curtis came over, inspecting your patch job and he hummed, smiling at you.

“You’re gonna put me out of a job at this rate,” he smirked, making heat creep into your cheeks at his praise.

So much had changed in the year that passed and you barely had any remnants of your old life. You and Billy had taken things slow as you’d both agreed on and he’d been a little more understanding, yet not very happy, when you’d left again. He’d come to visit you at your alley or you’d go there for dinner sometimes and it was nice as you got to know each other better. Eventually, you started staying the night there and as time wore on, you spent less nights out on the streets. And now, a year later, you didn't sleep on the streets at all but you didn't really miss it. It had been a gradual thing that progressed as your relationship with Billy progressed. The more serious you both got, the less time you wanted to be away from him and the cold and desolate streets of New York started to lose their appeal. You were glad you’d taken it slow though as you knew it wouldn't work out the same if you’d just moved in here right away. You’d needed to wean yourself away from your old life and it had worked. Your dislike of violence had Curtis seeking you out to help him in the infirmary. There were even more to the ranks here since last year and he needed all the help he could get. You found you had a natural touch when it came to healing and helping people. You finally had a place and a purpose here that wasn't directly linked to being in a relationship with Billy.

Once Billy had his shirt back on, he stood up and leaned in to peck your lips. It had taken a bit to get used to such intimate gestures and touches with him, a little beyond what you were used to. But you liked it and with time, it started to feel second nature. Without Curtis needing your assistance anymore that night, Billy laced his hand with yours as he led you out of the infirmary and back into the main area. Your eyes drifted around, taking in the Christmas decorations as a warmth spread in your chest. It would be Christmas the next day. You’d never celebrated it before, not even when you had a home because your parents didn't care enough to give you one. You hadn't celebrated it the year before either as it was just after Billy had been in hospital and it wasn't really on anyone’s mind. But this year, Frank had declared you all would be celebrating it as you all needed some holiday joy. He’d turned up the day before with Billy and a huge ass Christmas tree that you were pretty sure they’d somehow stolen. It was said tree that Billy had been decorating when he’d fallen off the ladder and onto a box of decorations, some of which were glass. The place looked magical all dressed up like this with all the twinkling lights and tinsel. You’d been amused at watching the badass recruits all falling over themselves to joyfully decorate the place. It felt like a very large family and you loved it, never having that feeling before.

“What do you think?” Billy asked, smiling at you as you took it in. You’d been in the infirmary most of the day so you hadn't seen some of the decorations and hadn't seen the tree that was now done.

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, a wistful smile on your face as you turned to him. Billy had confessed to you that he wasn't a huge fan of Christmas. He, just like you, hadn't had one growing up really and then he’d found Frank and the Castles. The Christmases with them had been something else and after they died, he never wanted to have another Christmas. You had a feeling it had also been hard for Frank. You hadn't been sure why they’d changed their mind this year until Billy told you that he wanted you to experience the magic that he had with the Castles, that you deserved it. And you had a sneaky feeling Frank was thinking something similar to Karen, although she most likely had some experience with the whole Christmas thing.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied softly, cupping your cheek as your hands bunched into his t-shirt. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, melting into him the same as you always did. When he pulled away, his dark brown eyes were warm as he gazed at you and his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I love you,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly. You felt the butterflies swarming your stomach as you smiled up at him. No matter how many times he’d said it, you’d never get used to it.

“I love you too,” you smiled, leaning up to give him another kiss.

Things with you and Billy hadn't been plain sailing. You were new to any type of relationship and he was new to one like this and you both still had issues. His head still wasn’t quite right and you didn't think it ever would be after the trauma it had suffered and you had a temper. There had been a few explosive fights with you, when Billy was being unreasonable or overbearing and you couldn't hack it. After being on your own for so long there was no way you’d sit there and take orders. The pair of you could be stubborn but with time, you’d learnt to be better at the relationship. Learned to give and take. You both struggled to admit when you were in the wrong, but knowing how much you could hurt each other usually made you both humble up pretty quickly. You hated when you said something hurtful and you’d see his face fall, hurt flashing behind his eyes, and you knew he felt the same about you. The fights had become less frequent with each passing month and things had settled down nicely. The fights would no longer be drawn out for days as you both refused to back down and only made things worse and instead, whoever was in the wrong would sheepishly approach the other to apologize. And you both weren't assholes about either. You didn't prolong the argument by refusing the apology. Neither of you got any joy when you fought.

You moved away from Billy, walking over to where your polaroid camera was sitting on the table. It had been an early Christmas present off Micro since he wouldn't be there for Christmas, instead spending it with his family. He’d given it to you two weeks prior when you last saw him, telling you he was too excited to wait closer to Christmas to give it to you. You’d accidentally discovered your love for photography when he’d let you use one of his cameras and he’d told you once that you seemed to be able to capture the beauty in anything, especially in the city you were so fond of. He had a collection of cameras and you’d been fascinated by the polaroid as it printed the picture instantly. There was something special about the fact the picture couldn't be edited or changed, that you had one chance to get the shot you wanted. Because nothing was perfect and capturing that was what you loved best. You’d been overjoyed and moved beyond words by his gift and you’d made good use of it. You swiped it off the table, aiming it at the beautifully decorated tree. You snapped a picture of it, setting it on the table to develop as you took a few more of the recruits decorating and laughing with each other, a cute candid of Frank and Karen snuggling on one of the many beat-up second-hand sofas that were now here. The place had changed so much since you’d first come here. It no longer just felt like a base of operations where a bunch of people were staying, but it felt more like a home. There was even a little recreational area on the first floor too now.

“I like that one,” Billy hummed from over your shoulder, looking down at the one of Frank and Karen in your hand as it fully developed.

“Should I put it on the wall”? You asked, looking at him curiously. His lips curled into a smirk as he kissed the side of your head. He took the picture from you and you followed him as he went to the wall near the rec area, tacking the picture up with all of the many you’d put up there. Everyone seemed to enjoy that wall and would often come to look at it, sometimes finding one of themselves they hadn't even realized you’d taken. Billy had been a little harder to capture at first. He’d point-blank refused to be photographed because of his face. You’d tried your best in your time with him to reassure him, to show him you loved him no matter if he had scars. You felt that it had helped as slowly over the two weeks that you’d had the camera, he’d started to allow you to take pictures of him. You wanted him to see the beauty that you saw in him too.

Later that night, everyone was hanging out on the lower floor just having a fun and relaxed Christmas eve. A group of you were sitting on or around the sofas as you all played charades and you found it hilarious how competitive Frank and Billy could be and how they’d get annoyed with each other. Billy was the one up and you were sitting on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, courtesy of Annie who had made everyone one with some whipped cream and marshmallows. Some people had a splash of alcohol in theirs but you’d abstained.

“Movie title,” Frank asserted eagerly as Billy made a gesture. Frank was sitting on the edge of a sofa as Karen smirked at him. You still weren't even sure how to play the game but you found the whole thing amusing. Billy held up two fingers and Frank called out ‘two words’ and Karen snorted loudly into her cup.

“First word, okay,” Frank muttered after Billy held up one finger.

“Kill!” Frank barked after Billy made a motion like he was slitting his own throat. He shook his head, giving Frank an annoyed look and he’d only just started.

“Dead! Murder!” Frank kept shouting out words and you slurped your hot chocolate and tried not to laugh at how eager he was about it all. Billy growled, looking ready to throttle him. He held up two fingers then and from what little you’d learned from watching them play, he’d decided to move on to the second word instead. He gestured to his crotch and you raised a curious brow as Frank looked stumped.

“Cock?! Dick?!” He yelled, Billy shaking his head every time and you almost choked on your drink as Karen started laughing. You couldn't believe how seriously they were taking it. Billy lay his hand over his crotch again before raising his hand, quirking a brow at Frank like it was obvious.

“The fuck is that supposed to be?!” Frank growled, only serving to make you and Karen laugh more and you weren't the only ones as everyone in hearing vicinity was finding it amusing.

“Goddamn it, Frankie! I was Die Hard, you fuckin’ moron!” Billy shouted, a vein in his neck bulging as he gave Frank a scathing look.

“How was I supposed to guess that with that bullshit?” Frank huffed as he shook his head.

“It was kind of obvious,” Karen murmured with a cheeky grin. Frank turned to her looking offended.

“You could have helped me,” he griped petulantly and she shot him a smirk.

“I’m not on your team, why would I do that?” she snorted.

“And you call yourself a Bruce Willis fan,” Billy scoffed, still glaring at Frank for letting the team down.

“When did I say that?” Frank asked, squinting at him slightly.

“Didn't have to. Was kinda obvious when you carried a picture of him overseas,” Billy smirked mockingly at him, making Frank gape at him.

“Like hell I did!” he yelled, standing up as he and Billy moved to stand toe to toe with each other, Billy’s eyes lighting up like he loved the prospect of a fight.

“Alright you two, sit your asses down,” Karen grinned, shaking her head as she shoved Billy over to you and Frank back in his seat. Billy was grumbling to himself as he sat with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You all stayed there for a bit longer watching some others play, it being a lot safer when Billy and Frank weren’t up and with their constant bitching at each other.

“Should we give Frank and Karen their gift now?” Billy asked quietly from next to you. You looked at him, excitement radiating from every pore in your body. You’d been so excited about this that you’d pestered Billy to let you give it to them early. Seeing you practically wriggling where you sat with eager eyes, he chuckled before standing up, you following suit.

“Hey, you guys got a minute?” Billy asked, tapping Frank on the shoulder as he interrupted their conversation. Billy moved over to where you were hovering, biting your lip to stop the smile from splitting your face as they walked over.

“What's up?” Karen asked, looking a little worried.

“Me and Y/N wanted to give you your present early,” Billy explained with a smirk, Karen and Frank glanced at each other for a moment before back at the pair of you.

“You sure? We can wait-” Frank started but you cut him right off.

“You’re not waiting! Come on!” you whined impatiently, earning a snort from Billy.

“Gotta come up and get it,” Billy grinned. They followed you both up the stairs, you and Billy sharing shit-eating grins as you got to your floor. But instead of going to the room you shared with Billy, you stopped outside of your old room. When you’d started to stay the night with him, it had been in his room and when you eventually moved in, neither of you really spoke about you having your own room as it felt pointless. Billy gestured with his head for Frank to open the door and he shot Karen a wary look before he pushed it open, walking inside with Karen towing behind him. You felt like you were vibrating you were so excited, you hadn't stopped being excited since Karen had told you the news a month before. It had been your idea and Billy had loved it.

“Oh my god!” Karen cried out as you and Billy filed in after them. Your old room was now a rainbow-themed nursery, complete with a crib and all the furniture new parents would need and a bunch of stuffed animals. Karen was tearful, one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach as she soaked it all in and Frank was blinking rapidly as he looked around. He turned to you and Billy then with a meaningful look on his face.

“You didn't have to do this,” he murmured, his voice sounding raw.

“We wanted to,” you replied softly, giving him a smile.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, Frankie, no matter what it is you need,” Billy’s voice was thick with emotion and you knew this whole thing had been tough for both of them after the loss of Frank’s family. Frank sniffled with a smile, moving to grab Billy in a long hug as they muttered something to each other you couldn't make out. Karen took your hand, tears down her cheeks.

“Thank you, I love it,” she said sincerely, trying to muster up a smile for you. You squeezed her hand as you smiled back with a nod.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied. She moved to hug Billy then and Frank rested his hand on your shoulder.

“I really appreciate this, we both do,” he muttered firmly, leveling a look at you that told you just how much he meant his words. The four of you hung out a little bit in the new nursery as Karen and Frank really took in everything they had now for the new baby. After a while, you and Billy decided to head to bed and Karen and Frank went back downstairs, not ready to turn in for the night. You were over the moon they liked their gift and you couldn't wait for the baby to be born. You’d never had family or friends to experience this with before and you found the whole thing exciting.

When you and Billy got to your room, you stripped out of your clothes and changed into your pajamas, which were essentially just a t-shirt of Billy’s and some panties. You climbed into bed with a yawn before Billy, who was only in his boxers, got in beside you.

“You excited for your first Christmas?” he asked softly, rolling to face you. You copied him, now facing him and smiling when he tucked your hair behind your ear sweetly.

“I am, I’ve already been enjoying the festivities,” you grinned, making him smile. He leaned over, kissing you softly but it quickly became heated as he rolled on top of you. You felt desire shoot through you like an electric current as he pressed himself against you, moaning into the kiss and getting a moan from him in response. Things on the sexual side had been slow at first with Billy, given your history and lack of experience. It had taken you four months to feel ready to take that leap and he hadn't put any pressure on you. Not even letting his hands wander when you made out like a pair of horny teenagers so he didn't make you think he was pushing you. You were grateful for him to let you take the lead, to let him know when you were ready. And after four months, you had been. You had no idea how to initiate it though since you’d never done anything before and your times with Josh had you lying there like a lifeless doll. And being as blunt as you were and seeing no sense in dancing around it, you’d just told him how you felt. You told him you wanted to take the next step but had no idea what you were doing. He didn't make you feel stupid or embarrassed about it either. He was kind and caring as he guided you through everything as you learned to explore sex with him. Something that had once been negative to you quickly became something positive and you’d even tried some things with him you never thought you’d be into. Trusting him as much as you did, you never felt embarrassed about trying things with him as you learned about yourself in a way you’d never had the chance to before.

His kiss was bruising and you lost yourself in it. You never knew which Billy you would get in bed, soft and slow or hard and rough, but that was half the fun. It usually depended on his mood and you were happy to go along with whatever because you liked it either way. A fun perk of having your explosive arguments would be the just as explosive make-up sex. He slipped his hand into your panties and started circling your clit with ease, making you gasp and he moaned against your lips. He had you writhing against his hand in no time, panting into the kisses he was showering you with. But then he moved away, tugging the shirt off you impatiently and pulling your panties down. He rid himself of his boxers before lining himself up for you, not feeling up to much foreplay tonight it seemed as he sheathed into you in one fluid motion. Your moans mingled together and he propped himself up with one arm beside your head as the other grabbed your thigh, hitching it up a little. He started thrusting into you, not quite fast but not slow either and you arched up to meet each thrust. The hand on your thigh slid up and then around to your lower back, angling your hips in a way that had a loud moan erupting from you. He kissed you desperately, your bodies entwined together and you felt the pleasure gripping you like a vice. He moved to kneel up then, his hands trailing over your breasts as he palmed them, his thrusts slowing for a moment. It was like the calm before the storm before his hands gripped your hips tightly and he started fucking into you roughly. Your moans got louder and more desperate, your hands coming above your head to the headboard, needing to find purchase on something as your body jostled with the movement. Each thrust felt like it had the air being forced out of your lungs in a needy moan. You felt your pleasure increasing, your body tingling all over as you listened to his groans, watched his face contorted in pleasure with his mouth slightly open and his eyes screwed shut.

“Billy,” his name tumbled off your lips like a fervent prayer and he let out a dirty moan that almost pushed you right over the edge. He was over you again in a second, his mouth claiming yours roughly as he kept his punishing pace with you. You could barely kiss him back in your delirium, moaning wantonly into his mouth as your back bowed up off the bed. It felt like you exploded into a million tiny fragments as your release washed over you. He moaned sinfully against your lips, thrusting into you a few more times before he came with a harsh and rough groan.

The pair of you lay there panting for a moment, his forehead resting on yours as you came down from your high. But then he was giving you a dopey smile, kissing your lips tenderly. You hummed softly into the kiss and when he pulled out of you, you felt the loss instantly. He flopped onto his back looking tired and you wasted no time in rolling over, laying your head on his chest. His arms came around you with no hesitation, one of his hands going to your hair as he stroked it softly.

“I love you,” you mumbled tiredly into his chest. He pressed his lips to your head for a moment, his arms around you tightening.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, making you smile against him as your eyes fluttered shut.

The next morning, you shuffled down the stairs sleepily with Billy by your side and a wrapped present in your hand. You’d been woken by Frank telling you both to get your asses downstairs. It had resulted in the sibling-like bickering you’d grown to be fond of between Billy and Frank since he’d walked right in and you had only a sheet for your modesty. But Frank had pointed out that Billy had walked in on him and Karen plenty of times. As you got into the main area, you saw a mountain of presents and smiled to yourself, seeing everyone milling around, eating breakfast or just hanging out near the big tree. Billy still had some of his money left over from his Anvil days, although it was slowly dwindling with no income to replace it and he was trying to be more careful with it. But he wanted to make sure every single recruit got a gift from him and Frank to show them they were appreciated. They’d sent Karen off with her investigative experience to figure out what to get everyone. All the presents were wrapped and had tags on and you wondered who the hell had managed that feat, having a feeling it was probably the machine also known as Karen. You spent the morning drinking coffee and nibbling croissants as you watched all of the recruits open their gifts. There was a warmth in your chest that seemed to be settled there, not moving since you’d come downstairs. Karen and Frank came over to where you and Billy were then, two wrapped presents in their hands.

“These are you for,” Karen murmured, handing you one as Frank handed Billy the other. You gave them a shy smile before you started to peel the perfectly wrapped paper and when you were done, you grinned. It was a beautiful dark brown coat with cream fur trim, some embroidered flowers along the bottom of it. It looked like it would fall past your hips. It had a retro vibe about it that you loved and you felt touched as your fingers danced along the fur.

“Thank you guys,” you said softly, beaming up at them. You didn't have a coat, you’d never bothered to get one and you didn't like the idea of Billy buying you one when you knew he was basically funding this place from the only money he had. You’d been using spare coats that were hung in a closet.

“I thought of you as soon as I saw it,” Karen grinned, looking happy you liked it.

“Holy shit,” Billy breathed from next to you, sounding in awe. You turned to look at him to see a large knife in his hands, all black with a fancy-looking handle. He twirled it expertly before he shot you a dirty smirk and you felt your cheeks burn as you looked away quickly. While you had a distaste for violence, you found out only the week prior that you were pretty fond of Billy wielding a knife in the bedroom. You’d really surprised yourself with that one.

“I fuckin’ love this,” Billy laughed, a bright smile on his face before he stood and grabbed Frank in a tight hug. Frank clapped him on the back before he moved away, eyeing the knife a little warily and you snorted. Billy then moved to hug Karen and you stood too. You still weren't much of a hugger with anyone other than Billy but you were slowly getting used to it and after the gift they’d just gotten you, you felt like it was a good moment. With Karen busy with Billy, Frank smiled warmly at you, moving over to grab you in a hug. He squeezed you a little before moving away.

“Welcome to the family, Y/N,” he murmured, making your throat feel a little tight. Karen wrapped her arms around you then, her hug a little longer than Franks.

“Merry Christmas,” she smiled, pulling away. You felt a little overwhelmed and always conscious of your needs and knowing how you were feeling, Billy thanked them once again before moving you to sit once more.

You and Billy sat there for a little longer, snuggled up together as you just enjoyed watching everyone have a good time. You kept wondering when you should give Billy his gift but he hadn’t mentioned anything yet and you were a little nervous so you just happily cuddled into him for a while.

“Come on,” Billy murmured after a bit, pulling you up from your seat.

“Where are we going?” you asked, blinking up at him.

“The roof, get your coat,” he flashed you a smile and you grabbed his wrapped present before you grabbed your new coat, smiling to yourself as you put it on. It was so warm and cozy, you loved it. Billy grabbed his own coat, matching you slightly with the small amount of fur on his collar and you watched him as he tugged the hood from his hoodie out of it. He took your hand as he led you up to the roof. You’d both created a little area up here, like a little safe space just for you two. It had a sofa and a small table, some lights too. In the warmer months, you’d even camped up here much like he had set up for you the night before the Irish mob got wiped out and you loved it. The only thing you missed about being out here as you slept was being under the stars. You both walked to the sofa and sat down and you felt anxiety thrumming through you about your gift. You had no idea if he’d like it or not and with his moods, sometimes it was hard to predict how he might react. You wanted to get it out of the way so you handed him his gift first with a hesitant smile. He took it, slowly unwrapping it as your eyes stayed glued on his face for even the smallest of reactions. If things went south, you weren't above grabbing it off him and running back downstairs. Once opened, he was faced with a black velvet scrapbook and he raised a brow at you.

“Open it,” you encouraged, a nervous smile on your face as he did as you asked. There were pages of various pictures of people he cared about. Frank, Karen, Curtis and Micro. Some of the recruits doing drills or just hanging out. There were even a couple of the Castles that Frank had given you when you told him what your present idea had been. Billy swallowed thickly as he turned page after page, taking it all in and getting noticeably emotional whenever he saw one of the Castle’s.

As the pages drew on, he started to be included in the pictures. One’s of him and Frank or him and Curtis or Micro, some of them altogether. Most of them were candid pictures given he didn't like posing for pictures and there was a sweet one of him giving Karen a hug from her birthday that year. The next page was filled with just pictures of him, all of them candid and he had no idea you’d taken and this was the part you were worried about the most. You knew how self-conscious he was, knew his aversion to having pictures taken, so you hoped he wouldn't be upset by it. There were pictures of him training or running drills, some of him cleaning his guns or knives. Various candid shots of him smiling or laughing as he spoke to someone but you managed to just get him in the shot. There was even one of him sleeping, looking peaceful and serene. He didn't look at you as he took it all in, his Adam's apple bobbing as his dark eyes swept over all the pictures of himself. He turned the page and was greeted with the last two pages that were full, you’d left some empty to add to later, and it was full of the pair of you. He only ever allowed you to take pictures of him if he was with you and you had a good number of them. Cheesy shots with a bright grin on your face, ones you’d taken after saying something to purposely make him laugh. There was one of the pair of you lying in bed together looking incredibly rumpled with sleepy smiles on your faces. There were even a few you hadn't taken yourself but Karen had. Some candids of the pair of you she’d decided to take since she knew what your plan had been. And you were grateful for them, you loved them the most. One of you sitting on Billy’s lap on the sofa, the pair of you smiling at each other. One of you laughing together and another of him training you in basic self-defense. There was one of you clinging to him after he’d come back from a job, his hand in your hair with his eyes closed, a relieved smile on his face. There was even one Karen had taken of when Billy had purposely made you walk under some mistletoe with him just two days before and then kissed you.

Billy was uncharacteristically silent as he looked at them all and you toyed with your hands restlessly, unsure if he liked it or was upset with you.

“Do you like it?” you asked quietly, dread coating your tone as he just sat there staring for what felt like forever.

“I uh…” his voice cracked and he clamped his mouth shut for a moment before taking a steadying breath. You noticed then how shiny his eyes were as he looked right at you. You felt breathless at the sight.

“I love it. I don't even… I never thought I’d like lookin’ at pictures of myself again. But this is… it’s amazing. Micro was right, you really do capture the beauty in anything,” he murmured, his voice wavering a little. He reached out and clutched your hand, your body relaxing infinitely knowing he liked it. It touched you that he was moved so much by it. That it meant so much to him, as much as it meant to you when you put it together.

“It’s not hard to capture beauty in something already so beautiful,” you replied, a loving smile on your face. His eyes softened as he brought your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it before he tugged you. You wound up straddling him and his hands slipped inside your coat, settling on your hips.

“Thank you. It's the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said sincerely, squeezing your hips a little. You felt your cheeks heat up a little as you smiled down at him, your hand coming to toy with the short hair at the base of his skull.

“I was worried you wouldn't like it. It meant a lot to me, putting it together. It's special… you're special,” you breathed, gazing down at him. His lips curled into a smile, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck as he pulled you down for a kiss. He seemed to pour his gratitude into the kiss and when you pulled away, you felt lightheaded.

“Time for your present,” he smirked, but it seemed a little off. Tense somehow. It took you a moment to realize he was nervous too and it was slightly endearing that you hadn't been the only one worried. He pulled something out of his coat pocket before holding it in front of him. It was a small black box and he toyed with it for a moment, eyes darting from you to the box before back at you. He didn't say anything as he cracked it open and revealed a beautiful silver ring. There was a large diamond in the middle and two sapphire stones on either side. You blinked down at the very expensive looking gift for a moment, unsure what to say.

“It doesn't haveta mean anything. It- It could just be a… a pretty ring you wear,” he started, unable to look at you as he shook his head.

“What do you want it to mean?” you asked slowly, unsure where he was going with this and his weird presentation of the ring to you. He took the ring out of the box, setting the box on the sofa beside you, still not looking at you as he stared at it.

“I’d ask you to… to marry me, but uh… I’m a wanted fugitive so I don't see us… don’t see us walking down the aisle anytime soon,” he muttered with a chuckle, seeming unsure of himself. His words stole the breath from your lungs and your heart started beating like a hummingbird's wings in your chest. He looked up at you then, his dark eyes boring right into yours for a moment and suddenly, it seemed like his nerves melted away from him.

“I want it to mean that I love you. That I want forever with you. It means… It means that I-I found all I ever needed right here with you. It means that when I’m with you… the world just… it stops turnin’. Nothin’ else matters when I’m with you. All the bullshit I’ve been through, all the pain and loss and hurt… none of it matters. It means that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long that might be and I don’t need no damn papers to make it real,” he implored firmly, his eyes boring into you. You blinked at him for a long moment, brain trying to wrap around that he was essentially asking you to marry him. Your chest ached with the happiness you felt and you felt your eyes start to sting but you tried to push the tears away. You were rendered mute for a moment in your shock and awe and he looked back to the ring looking uncertain of himself. You cleared your throat, sniffling a little as you held your hand out.

“Are you going to put it on then?” you asked wryly, the emotion in your voice betraying how touched you were by his words and gesture. His eyes snapped back to you then looking almost surprised by your reaction.

“You're… you’re sayin’ yes?” he asked hesitantly. Your face broke into a grin and you wiped a stray tear that had escaped that was rolling down your cheek.

“Of course I am, did you really think I’d say no?” you asked with a snort. The smile that split his face was blinding and made you feel like he’d just shoved you off the roof. He took your hand in his, carefully sliding the ring on your finger.

"I love you," he murmured, smiling at you.

“I love you too,” you grinned, leaning down and kissing him sweetly. He wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back and suddenly, he’d shifted you and your back hit the sofa with him on top of you. He shot you a devilish smirk and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“It’s too cold for that up here,” you snorted.

“I got ways to warm you up, sweetheart,” he teased with a grin before leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

The weight of the ring felt heavy around your finger but it wasn't a negative feeling, it was comforting. You’d grown up being unloved by the people who were supposed to care the most, spent the rest of your life being forgotten by society and shunned for circumstances beyond your control. All your life you’d been shown you were worthless and not worth loving. That you were damaged and you’d declared yourself as too broken to be fixed, passed the point of saving. And then you’d found Billy. He’d slowly put the pieces of you back together as you healed. You weren't perfect, but he treated you like the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with gold. You’d forever have imperfections and flaws from the life you’d had before, but he sealed every fracture with love and affection that was changing you into a better version of yourself and you hoped you did the same for him. Alone you were both broken, but together, you were now whole.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

#billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine

54 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Note

I love your work and enjoy your theories, so I thought I'd pop up and ask a question, my question being; why do people like yuu so much? They don't really have a point in the story and stuff-this kinda sounds like I hate yuu but I don't I'm just curious on why they're liked in the EN Fandom so I apologize if I used the wrong choice of words or anything, also why is yuu called 'the therapist'?

Rather than saying “the EN fandom likes Yuu”, I think it’s more accurate to say “the EN fandom likes the idea of Yuu”. Yuu is not a character in of themselves, but is an easy proxy for anyone and everyone to self-insert (be it the player themselves or an OC of theirs) because they are so loosely defined. This makes it very easy to “project” (ie insert whatever traits you want) onto a blank slate on an individual level and to be more personally invested in the events related to Yuu.

In an ironic way, Yuu not having a major impact on the story encourages fans to create their own alternate tellings and scenarios (typically substituting their own interpretation of Yuu or an OC into their role) to change things. This, in turn, heightens the attachment to Yuu because of the time and effort being devoted to this insertion. Over time, the feelings can grow stronger with each repetition, and it forms a sort of bond and all the affection that may come with it.

This is in part why the self-insert and OC culture of TWST is so strong; Yuu is practically designed to be projected onto. Even the name may be a reference to this—Yuu as in, “you”. They’re meant to be “you”, so many people become attached yo Yuu because that is essentially a representation of “themselves” in the world of TWST (especially when you consider that one’s imagination amplifies this relationship).

Brief aside for a second, I want to emphasize that this is a phenomenon that is specific to the EN fandom. The JP side also has Yuusonas and OCs, but they are often not as fleshed-out as the ones you’ll see from the EN fandom. Most of the time, the Yuusonas/OCs from JP are more generalized (less individualized looks, far less details in backstories, etc.) so that any onlooker can still insert as the Yuu. Meanwhile, the Yuusonas and OCs from the EN side tend to go into a LOT of detail about their creations. I believe this reflects a fundamental cultural difference between JP and EN (more specifically America/Canada): collectivism vs individualism, conforming to a group vs standing out from the crowd. (I discuss other differences I’ve observed between JP and EN in this post.)

The “Yuu is NRC’s therapist” line is a joke from the earliest days in the fandom; this was way before most of the main story had come out and no one knew how little of a role Yuu would actually play in the overall narrative and changing the characters’ lives, nor the fact that the OB boys would get treatment from an actual therapist (a detail revealed in book 6, I believe). The therapist role was likely derived mainly from something Crowley says in the prologue about how Yuu can be the one that teaches the boys how to get along with one another. However, the more main story content released, the more it became apparent that what Crowley said was just flat-out untrue. (I go into more detail about that in this post.) Nowadays, I think that the term is used more ironically.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst en #twisted wonderland en #Yuu #notes from the writing raven #question

97 notes · View notes

bekaroth-reads · 2 years

Text

Astarion x Tav/reader x Gale

[So, I have the characters use the name Tav as that’s the default name in the game, so that way it could be a reader or OC insert, whatever you want. Also they/them pronouns are used for that purpose as well. This is also a scenario where everyone travels together and not just four to a group. Also aside from saying also too much, I’m still a bit new to the game, so some people might be a little out of character.]

The day was a rather nice one. You were all thankful for that as the plan was to walk for the majority of the day. It was going to be a bit before you got to the next town, so you all wanted to make as much of a dent in that journey as you could while it was pleasant. Well, most of you did. From one of the bedrolls you could see nothing but a few shocks of white hair fluffing out from under the cover. “Come on, Astarion. It’s morning and we’ve got a lot of walking to do today.” You called as you shook the lump under the cover with the toe of your boot. There was a grumble followed by a muffled, “Please, don’t remind me!” You sort of felt bad for pushing Astarion to get up because you knew that there was a chance that he either slept very little or not at all. But, there were things that you all had to do despite his sleeping habits. “Let the pasty bastard lie, I say. A soul that doesn’t enjoy a beautiful morning is not a good one!” Gale called over to the two of you with a slight sing-song tone to his last few words. This was what caused those two red eyes of the vampire to emerge from hiding, narrowed from squinting from the light and glowering at the wizard. His icy gaze had death in it as he looked at the almost chipper man getting his gear ready to go. “And, they call me unnatural.” Astarion hissed as he begrudgingly started to get his own things gathered.

“Why are you spending this wonderful morning with such a drab mark on it?” Gale seemingly said to you as he walked over and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, but he was looking at the undead elf the whole time so he knew he was talking about him. Astarion usually would have sassed something back, but at the moment he was too tired to bother with a response, much less think about Gale at all (truthfully, he always gave the wizard more thought than he would like to.) “Come on, Gale.” You did your best not to give in and laugh at his antics as you tried to lead him away from the sleepy half-elf to buy more time for you and the others before you all had to listen to the two of them bickering. “Not everyone wakes up as quickly as you do.” There was still mirth in his eye as he remarked, “Perhaps, but no one wakes up worse than him.” There was a nod of Gale’s head toward Astarion to accompany this. “Gale.” You huffed at his insistence at trying to start a fight this early in the morning. “You know I can’t help myself.” He pulled you closer to himself and hummed, “Especially, when I have such a lovely day to look forward to.” Just as he was about to say something else, someone quickly rescued you from his hold, “It would be a nice day if someone stopped talking so much and giving everyone else a headache.” Shadowheart grumbled as she kept walking you away from him and toward your things.

After the small incident that morning the rest of the day up to this point seemed to be going smoothly as Astarion and Gale hadn’t had much interaction with each other. Then you stopped to rest for a bit in the afternoon. “Pathetic.” Lae’zel snorted as she looked behind you. You turned to see what she was insulting this time and saw…nothing. Looking back at her with a questioning look, she clarified, “We seem to be two people short in our party. They cannot keep up with the group.” Now that you looked around, you did notice that Gale and Astarion were nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t but a minute or two later that Gale arrived where the rest of you were with Astarion right behind him. “You two off exchanging sweet nothings in your alone time?” Wyll laughed as both of the other men looked like they would murder him right then and there. “Hardly!” Astarion sneered. “Not a bloody chance!” Gale snapped at the same time. “Then why did you both fall behind?” Lae’zel demanded, not having the same sense of humor that Wyll had about the situation. Their ire shifted to her, and Gale quickly went to defend himself. “I know exactly what you are implying. And, I’ll have you know that I am by no means a weak man. My strength simply lies in the mind and in short burst of carrying things around my study.” And, when this didn’t seem to sway the rest of you to sympathize with him, he added, “It’s not my fault that the rest of you are practically jogging rather than walking!” Shadowheart rolled her eyes as the rest of you looked at Astarion expectantly for his answer. He didn’t seem to be paying attention, but quickly noticed the feeling of being watched. “Hm? Oh, yes. I could have kept up with you. I simply didn’t feel like it.”

“Oh, please!” Gale scoffed. “You were even further behind than I was.” Astarion’s lip twitched as he had to take a millisecond to compose himself before retorting. “A purposeful choice, I assure you. Your struggle to do something as basic as walking has been making for quite the treasure trove of entertainment for the day.” It was at this point the you all knew the volleys of insults were about to start. “Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted.” Shadowheart huffed as she went to sit down a ways off from the rest of the group. “That would be a flattering statement from anyone but you.” Gale snarked and crossed his arms at his chest. “Flattering?” Astarion was genuinely confused. “We both know the real reason that you wanted to walk behind me was to look at my ass.” Gale snorted, proud of the jab he just got in. The vampire spawn looked disgusted at the thought. “Oh, dear, was that what I was looking at?” Astarion started once he had recovered, “I had thought that was your face. They do look strikingly similar.” Gale rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense! My robe was in the way!” Without missing a beat, the white haired man snapped back, “I merely thought you had done the world a favor by finally covering the monstrosity.” Gale looked like he was about to explode, but he stopped and took a deep breath. You all hoped that meant that they were done for now, yet were proven wrong when the wizard added, “At least my face isn’t as horrifically distracting as the awful hair of yours; especially that glaring bald spot.”

You all knew that was a low blow as there was nothing that Astarion loved more than that hair of his. If Wyll and you didn’t jump in between them, Astarion would have actually attacked Gale. “Alright, the both of you need to give some space. Cool off a little.” Wyll encouraged on deaf ears. “He’s right.” You agreed and the two obliged begrudgingly. You both watched to make sure there was a decent distance between the two and that no projectiles of any kind were thrown. After sometime Lae’zel approached you. “Could you talk some sense into those fools?” You gave her a teasing smile and asked, “Are you that worried about them?” She gave you a look that let you know that if you weren’t you then you would get hit right now, and even then you were on thin ice. “No. We have spent too much time resting already. But, neither of them will move from where they are if that means seeing each other; like children bickering in a nursery.” You knew that she was right and that you all needed to keep going. So, you agreed. Because Astarion was closer you decided to start with him. Going over to the stump he was sitting on, you noted that it was where he could watch a nearby stream, but far enough away to be safe for him. “I’m in no mood for conversation, Tav.” He grouched as he heard you approaching. You didn’t respond and simply walked over and sat next to him. Both of you knew that he usually had plenty to say unless he was really angry. After a few moments he spoke, but hesitantly. “Tav, I have something I need to ask you.” He sounded rather earnest and solemn, so you listened intently. “I… gods, how do I say this…” Astarion stopped and took a deep breath before starting again. “Am I actually balding?”

Of course it was what Gale said to him. “You see, I can’t really feel any patchy spots. But, it’s not like I can actually check as you well know.” Astarion whined as he fussed with his hair, feeling around his scalp. You clicked your tongue and moved his hands away from his head before he actually did give himself a bald spot from messing with it so much. “No, you don’t. Gale was just trying to get under your skin.” He made a sour face and you could tell that he was already planning his revenge. “Come on; quit scrunching your face up like that.” You start as you think on how to play into his good side, distract him from his ongoing feud at least for a little bit, “Your face is too pretty to give yourself wrinkles from all that frowning.” That seemed to catch his attention, and his trade mark, devious grin crept onto his face. “Playing that game, are we?” Astarion mused as he leaned in closer to you. He placed his hands on either side of you, effectively pinning you to the log you were both sitting on. “I’ll have you know that flattery will get you…everywhere~” the last part he hummed into you ear, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine. He took a deep breath, savoring the closeness to you and starting to say something else. But, before that something else came from his lips, there was another all too familiar voice wailing in disgust. “At least pretend you have some shame!” An approaching Gale did not at all look too happy with the scene he had just walked up on.

Astarion knowing how riled the wizard was getting, kept his proximity to you to further the burn, only slightly turning his head so he didn’t deafen you when he went to reply. “The only shameful things here are your impeccably horrid timing and your constant stench of cat piss!” You, who had found yourself unable to move due to Asterion’s unnatural strength, had to admit that you never thought Gale smelled like that, so either it was something that only Astarion’s heightened senses could pick up on, or, more likely, he was just trying to think of any insult he could hurl. Gale, not wanting to bring his precious cat into this even more, brushed off the comment in favor of asking, “And, what about poor Tav there? Certainly they don’t wish to be your next meal!” Astarion gave a deep, conniving laugh that you felt rumble in his chest. “Then I’d say you’ve underestimated our dear teammate.” The vampire’s lips moved down closer to your neck as he teased both you and Gale, “I don’t think they mind the biting at all.” That seemed to be the push that Gale needed to close the distance between him and the stream you were sitting by, and pull you away from the half-elf’s hold. Since Astarion had lost himself in the temptation of actually biting your neck, he didn’t notice Gale had gotten to you until you were ripped from his hold, causing him to lose his balance and fall face first into the stump with a loud thump echoing though the hollowed wood and dazing him slightly.

“There you go, my poor Tav. Did he rough you up too much?” Gale fussed as he walked you along back toward where the others were gathered. Usually, he was gentle with you, but not quite this doting. The difference between this time and the rest, however, was that the other times he shown affection he hadn’t just walked up on Astarion trying to get up close and personal with you. Well, he had; but, nothing to the extent that it was today. “I-I’m fine, Gale. Really!” You tried to insist, but it seemingly didn’t convince him. “See? You’re hardly able to get a sentence out. The vile creature has done something to you, and I’ll be damned if I don’t fix it!” You were trying to think of ways of telling him without giving yourself away, that the reason you were having trouble talking was because you were just manhandled by a hot elf to then immediately after manhandled by a hot wizard. But, you would never verbally tell either of them that they had that effect on you as they both already had egos that could fill a whole room and then some. “I insist! Let me at least look it over.” Gale tutted at your stubbornness, before looking at the area that Astarion had said he would bite. Now you had Gale nosing around your neck, which would seem like it was similar to when Astarion did it, yet in reality it was oh, so different. His breath and the hand that he slid along the side of your neck were a comforting warm instead of the pleasantly cool of Astarion’s. And, while he looked over the area for any scratches that the vampire spawn dared leave with those fangs of his, every so often the edges of his beard tickled the side of your face. You both knew that he didn’t really need to be that close to see, but neither of you said anything; yet, he had the back up excuse of the trees block any good lighting if you did happen to ask.

In similar fashion to when you were interrupted just a little ago, the indignant call of Astarion, who now had a decent welt, as well as some dirt and moss smeared on his face from hitting the log, pulled you from this moment Gale was trying to steal. “I beg your pardon!” Astarion hissed when he saw how tenderly the wizard was holding you. “Of all the people I would give pardon to, Astarion, you are not one of them.” Gale stated flatly in response. The white haired man’s shoulder’s stiffened, and his proverbial hackles rose even more. “You are well aware of what that phase meant in the context. Unless you have indeed proven to somehow be impossibly more idiotic than I thought.” Astarion’s words were dripping with as much venom as his glare was. “Oh, I’m the stupid one? Seems someone had a bit of trouble spotting some sarcasm.” Gale retorted as he turned away from you and toward his rival. “Oh, did I? Or are you just so expressively dull that it didn’t register?” Astarion parried. “Would you care to say that again?” Gale growled and took a step closer to the other man. “I believe I told you,” Astarion stepped in kind, “that you were dull.” There was another step from Gale. “Where do you get the gall?” Gale hissed. “From the knowledge that my theory was correct. Why else would you be so upset at the accusation, hmm?” Astarion purred at the man that was practically chest to chest with him at this point. “Well, I suppose dull is better than ugly.” Gale went for one of the elf’s biggest weak points. Astarion snarled and barked back, “Now, you listen here, you-“

“There is a lot of… well, a certain type of tension between those two.” Wyll, who approached with the other three as they were looking for the rest of you, commented on the scene he was watching. “It’s probably over Tav. You know how they are with them.” Shadowheart added. They were all surprised when they heard you start talking right next to them. “Not this time, I don’t think. I haven’t been near either of them for a little bit now. “Oh,” Shadowheart shrugged, “sorry, I didn’t notice you aren’t over there anymore.” You laughed at that. “That’s alright. I don’t think they have either.” That pulled a laugh from Wyll as well. “Honestly, you not being there explains even more than if you were.” Shadowheart and yourself both had to agree. Lae’zel had other ideas. “The only thing this proves is that they’re both children, and squabble like them!” You all agreed with that point as well. “Regardless, we need to keep moving. Break them up and make them follow.” Lae’zel ordered as she started back toward the path. “Well, you’re their nanny. They only listen to you, so it’s your job, I suppose.” Shadowheart teased as she patted your shoulder. “Wait, who decided that?” You asked, not up for the gargantuan task ahead of you. “They did.” Wyll pointed at the two men who were practically nose to nose by this point. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, they were right. And, for some reason, you didn’t actually seem to mind.

#astarion x reader #bg3 gale x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 gale x tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #astarion

246 notes · View notes