The Ones You Save [1]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 4,735

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, and blood.

Summary: The one where you are given a new mission and you follow through with the orders you have found.

prologue | part 1 | part 2

“You can find your mission.”

You don’t flinch as you easily allow the barrier in your mind to fall down, immediately reaching out past yourself to delve into the mind of Alexander Pierce. It’s slightly difficult for your muddled mind to recall just exactly who he is - but the name had popped in almost without hesitation when you gave yourself the brief reminder that forgetting could result in something worse than the dreaded machine, something worse than the highly praised cryogenic chamber.

You don’t have to search far into his psychotic, masochist brain to find what you need. The man has learned by now to keep the mission on the forefront of his mind after you have been prodded to find your mission. If he doesn’t think of it while you’re searching, you’re forced to burrow deeper into his mind - and there’s no telling what disturbing things you’d find if you did that. Not that any of it would have much effect on your broken encephalon.

As you’re discovering details about your new targets, the scientists in the room move to suit you up. You weren’t wearing much when you had come in - just the pants to your suit and the sports bra that they have you wear underneath your suit. Your suit itself is a complex mess of zippers and buttons; a design purposely created with the lightweight tactical suit to remind you how much control you lack. The uniform is constructed from Kevlar fiber and Nomex thread; produced for advanced flexibility and resistance to small bullets. It’s incredibly close to the apparel that the Winter Soldier once wore - but the design has been updated to restrict you from removing the clothing yourself. There is a tight muzzle wrapped around your nose and mouth, but they have abandoned the goggles you were once forced to wear. You don’t have to worry about your hair; the ratty, rough fibers are constantly pulled back into double dutch braids that stretch down to your middle back.

You barely recognize at this point when your brain kicks in to autopilot. With all the damage that’s been inflicted on the organ, you hardly remember telling yourself to walk to the hangar. All you comprehend is that you are suddenly in a different room, that you are strikingly alone. The silence is almost welcoming to a small, quiet part of your mind - but you shove that down. You don’t like the lack of loud voices, lack of chaos - the void of screaming, crying. You are so used to screeching HYDRA agents and sobbing victims; the silence distracts you from your complete-your-mission-and-get-it-over-with attitude. It comforts you, even; it allows you to take a break from the life that you know ( incredibly deep down ) you hate.

You make your way to your designated plane. You go through the motions of buckling yourself in, placing a comm into your ear before you pull on the noise cancelling headphones. With the powers you have, the decibels given off by the plane are too much. Even the small carrier plane you are allowed to pilot is too much. You hate loud noises, but your powers make it easier for you to cancel everything out - to focus on small details that rest inside the minds of others.

If your memories hadn’t been so toyed with, you would’ve been able to reminisce over how your old partner never got the privilege of learning to fly the passenger plane. You would’ve remembered that the scientists trusted you more than him, that you always were allowed more freedoms than him. But he only comes in fragmented bits. He only shows up in your mind at random instances, bringing a mix of strong emotions that have no reason. You can’t conjure up a full mental picture of him most of the time - but you might be able to recognize him if you saw him. You two were the best duo that HYDRA had ever seen; you always had the others back, never left the other to fight alone. But, he had managed to escape without you. You would be able to understand if you could just think about how hard he tried to get you out too.

But you don’t remember any of that. You don’t even think about it. When you do, it’s not by choice - and Alexander Pierce makes sure that you forget as soon as it happens.

You’re barely off the ground before your comm ignites with static. There’s a wince that you hold back as your hands keep the plane steady. This is something that comes naturally to you, the one thing that makes you feel weightless when the blood stained on your hands gets to be too much. It’s almost like an extension of yourself; as easy to control as your actions in hand-to-hand combat.

“You have the directions and the target. Make sure that the target is dead. Don’t worry about any other casualties; you know what will happen if your compassion suddenly rears its head.” The shrieking voice of Pierce fills your ear.

You don’t answer. And you never do. That’s one of the things that they seem to like most about you. You’re obedient; you’re easy to control, you listen without complaint. They’re at the point where they no longer have to toy with your fears to make you carry out their commands, they’ve already made you believe that you cannot survive on your own. They’ve taken care of you for so long, even though it hasn’t been anywhere near what living should be like. Deep down, the person who you used to be knows that you could take care of yourself if you were given the chance. You could treat yourself better, kinder, than any of those people you work for. If you cared for yourself, if you were given the chance to disappear from HYDRA - maybe you could stop spilling so much innocent crimson.

The plane touches down with precision and shuts off a moment after. You don’t need to take time to compose yourself before you’re pulling off the headphones. There’s a multitude of weapons that you move to strap onto your body; it seems that there’s a weapon for every occasion. HYDRA wants you to be prepared. Even with your abilities.

You shut the door behind you, but make no immediate move to walk away. Now is when you need to compose yourself. You force yourself to relax and close your eyes. You envision yourself standing near the edge of the forest; you look at your surroundings through your mind, see yourself slowly fade from view. And it works. When you open your eyes, you know your body is invisible to any prying eyes.

You were created with this in mind, to be an agent of stealth - to be able to control things with your mind. When Arnim Zola found Bucky, found you - he had the perfect duo in mind. He had two different serums; one that was previously made for the highly regarded hero dubbed as Captain America, the other that he had carefully and intricately made just for you. He had it planned; the body and the mind. Bucky was the body; he had the super strength, the undeniable agility, the striking silver arm. And you, you were the brilliant mind. You had the ability to infiltrate minds, the disappearing act, the genius plans. You also had the unexpected onyx arm and the metal parts replacing the fragmented bones in your legs. Zola’s beautiful, entrancing duo had both taken falls from high distances - but it was the perfect way to take you both into their custody.

And now, decades after your personal fall, you are standing at the edge of the forest. Your Glock 17 is now loosely resting in your left hand. It’s not the perfect time to use it and you have left the safety on. In a few mere seconds, you could have the safety off and the gun positioned perfectly. Your constant, extreme training has allowed you to perfect such motions. The guns aren’t your favorite weapon; those were always reserved for the partner you can’t remember. Your favorites are the knives - the ones your brain so easily calculates the trajectory for. Knives are like another extension of yourself, the perfect weapon for the perfect brain. But knives can’t penetrate through tinted windows of armored vehicles. You know that the bullets in your gun can’t either, which is why it’s your job to get into the car and execute your target.

The comm once again ignites with an irritating voice. “The car has been spotted heading your way. Get in position.”

Your eyes dart through the dense traffic that lies a few feet in front of you. The cars are so close together, so crowded that they can’t move. You know that it’s typical of this area during this time of day to be so packed. That makes it perfect for your job. It creates less casualties, makes it easier for you to spot the right target and take care of them without hassle.

You carefully begin to weave through the mess of stopped cars. It’s not the hardest thing that you have to do, but sometimes it’s difficult to squeeze between the vehicles and avoid hitting them. You like to stay invisible and it’s hard when the people in the cars can feel you bump into them. It destroys your stealth, confuses the people in the cars, and makes you want to panic. You don’t want to mess up; HYDRA could come up with extreme consequences for any slight error in your plans.

They want you to cause chaos in the process of your mission. That’s the reason why you aren’t using a knife, why your hand is slowly tightening its grip on your gun. They want the people around you to panic, to cause a commotion. They want you to cause as much chaos as you can with your missions so they can one day introduce you as the savior the world needs; the one person alone who can stop all these random killings, who has all the means to save the world without destroying cities upon cities in the process.

And you hate the idea. You know that it is stupid, that it’s useless - but the people who control you don’t care about your opinion. They haven’t cared since they locked Arnim Zola’s mind in a bunker far below the surface of the Earth. Zola was the one person who always wanted your opinion in missions, the one person who always knew how clever you really were. You wish that you had just messed around a bit more in Pierce’s mind and convinced him to let you use a knife. Your mission would run a lot more smoothly if you had done that.

“Your tracker is nearly on top of the car. Make sure you’re paying attention.” His voice is scolding this time, trying to find fault in your actions. You know exactly where the car is; you can see it plain as day. You’re not stupid and you know that you haven’t passed it yet. “Keep it simple, yet create chaos.”

You finally let your eyes roll in response. They can’t see your eyes roll when you’re hidden, and you’re far enough away from them that you aren’t absolutely terrified to react in that manner. You swear that they get on your nerves, though you’d never admit it out loud. Their instructions are always ingrained in your brain from how much they tell you them.

You let your bionic arm bang against the passenger window of the armored vehicle. There’s a quick pause and then you hit the window again - but this time you have moved closer to the front windshield. It goes on like that as you slowly begin to circle the car; all you are doing is luring out the driver of the car. You barely make it around to the back of the car before the guy is scrambling out of the car, moving to where you are. It’s easy for you to sidestep the man and slip into the car. You slam the door shut before you press down on the lock button. You can nearly feel the panic radiating off of the passengers in the car, A small smile tugs on your lips because you know for a fact that Pierce would be proud of you. When he’s proud, no one’s allowed to punish you for small mistakes.

You feel the urge to flip the car into drive and slam on the gas, but you brush it off. You’re not looking to get hurt in the process of giving Pierce the chaos that he craves. All you want is to invoke panic and fear, which you can do by firing the gun more than once. But you wait a beat. You allow your hammering heart a moment to calm down, allow yourself to keep your cover as you move to roll down the back window.

The driver is moving towards the window as soon as he sees that it is being lowered. You can see the panic and terror written across his face. You wonder, for a split second, how long the man must have been working for SHIELD. You know that if he was HYDRA he wouldn’t have let his emotions play out across his face. SHIELD has never properly trained their agents.

You watch as the driver attempts to pull your target out of the car. You don’t act out of panic, nor do you jump at the chance to fire the gun. He tries to pull the woman out, but the seat belt proves to be an issue. You move your gun into the proper position as he pleads with her to unbuckle and let him get her out alive; which makes you want to scoff. There’s no possible way that this could go that would have her getting out alive.

But you still wait. Your eyes follow the woman as she unbuckles herself, watch as the man tries once more to pull her out of the window. You busy yourself with rolling down the other windows, making the two of them pause for a moment in their efforts. It’s almost humorous to you, to watch as they finally realize they can open the door and safely pull her out.

Then you move. You’re pulling yourself out of the window, curling your body through the small surface. Instead of hopping onto the ground, you lift your body on top of the car. It doesn’t dent under your weight and your feet don’t leave any prints, for which you’re thankful for. You squat down and watch as the driver begins to look around frantically. It’s also humorous to watch him try to see you.

The driver is telling the woman to move, to stick close to him. You let one of your fingers move to click the safety off and you raise the gun, carefully pointing it at the two of them. But you don’t shoot. Not yet. You know exactly how you want to cause a little bit of chaos.

They start moving away from the car, leaving the other two passengers to scramble out after them. You quietly drop onto the ground, taking a quick moment to observe that traffic has begun to move a bit. It’s not hard for you to begin to follow behind the four SHIELD agents; your footsteps are too light to reveal your location to them. You want to move to tap into their minds, but your comm quietly comes to life before you can.

“Now’s the time, Ghost.”

You move your gun up, easily pointing it to your main target - the woman. You take a moment to breathe before you fire, watching as the bullet lodges itself into the back of her right knee. She almost falls to the ground in slow motion. The driver moves to bend down in front of her. You take another breath before you fire again, focusing on the bullet as it passes through the woman’s neck and lodges itself in the man’s torso. It is with swift ease that you take out the other two SHIELD agents who followed them, not sparing a second to watch as their bodies collapse onto the ground.

You put the safety on before you tuck the gun into the holster around your thigh. Though you do not watch the life leave the woman’s body, you do watch as people begin to jump out of their cars - running over to the four people. You make a face as you see some of them pulling out their phones, taking pictures and videos. You have to think about how stupid the human race has gotten, how eager they are to show everything that happens to the rest of the world. Their ignorance is bliss, in your situation, and you know that it will one day be the death of them. Just like it was to those four SHIELD agents whose blood is now crawling along the blazing hot asphalt.

Your feet begin to move you away from the area, trying to get back to the small passenger plane you had been permitted to take. You know that the scene isn’t as bloody as Pierce would have liked, but you know that he will be satisfied with the end results. Four SHIELD agents dead, with more on the list for your future endeavors.

As you finally disappear into the trees, you drop your invisibility facade. You can feel the blood begin to trickle down from your noise as you suddenly cease using your powers. You easily wipe it off with your gloves. It was always a side effect that you had after using them; Zola would always chalk it up to happening because of where they originated from. You were using your brain in a way that no other human could and this was always the way that you had reacted.

You pause mid-step as you pick up on the crunching of leaves underneath someone’s boot. Your mind immediately kicks into action and you disappear from sight, quietly turning around to see if you can find the source of the noise. Unlike the stranger, you tread carefully - your boots making barely any noise as you move amidst the fallen leaves and sticks. Your hand automatically moves to turn your comm off; eliminating all chances of Pierce revealing your location to the possible enemy. You have no clue who it could be or how many of them there are, but you know how you can find out.

You lean your body against a tree, letting your head relax against the rough bark as you close your eyes. You wish for a second that you had your headphones with you, but know that the noises of the nearby traffic will have to do as your distraction. You focus on the soft hum of the cars and the sound of tires on the road, not allowing the occasional horn honk to scare you.

You travel out of your mind - your powers quietly reaching out amidst the gentle sound of the wind pulling through the trees. You act as though you are flying through the forest, spotting out any possible threat. And it doesn’t take you long to see what has made the noise. On the outer edge of the forest, you spot three people. There are two men and one woman; you easily recognize Captain America and Black Widow, two ‘high-held’ SHIELD agents. The other man, though, isn’t as easily recognizable. You know that his face and build is familiar, that you have seen him before - but you cannot place him. All you know is that this man, the one with long brown hair and matching facial hair, looks concerned. And you decide to allow your brain to connect with his, to see out of his own eyes and to hear out of his ears.

“Buck, I don’t think she’s here. Not anymore, at least.” Captain America speaks up, sending the man a frown.

“I know she’s here, Steve. I can feel her.” The deep vibrations that left ‘Buck’ seemed to send a shock of pain through your system, and you automatically fight to shove the memories down.

“I don’t necessarily think that you can feel when a person is around, Barnes.” Black Widow pitches in - you watch as Steve nods in agreement.

“It’s a long story, Romanoff. Her and I have always been connected. That’s how Zola wanted it to be. I know she’s here. She’s watching us right now.”

You quickly let go of your hold on his brain and push yourself away from the tree with a jolt, putting your comms back on.

“Take off your mask and tell us what’s going on, Ghost.” The growl that escapes Pierce’s side of the comm makes your eyes narrow. “You won’t get in trouble.”

You quietly and hesitantly peel the muzzle off of your face, pressing your flesh hand down on the comm. “Captain America and Black Widow are here with a man they called ‘Buck’ and ‘Barnes’.”

You can’t help but wince at the rough, scratchy voice that falls out of your lips.You haven’t talked in so long and it’s easy to tell that it’s been months. The thought of them punishing you for doing what you’re told sends a shock of fear through your system, but you’re more concerned with the memories that are threatening to push past your mental barrier. A part of you wants to remember who that man is, but the rest of you knows that you need to forget about him. He’s not important. The important thing is finding a way to get back to your base undetected.

Without being told to, you quickly place the mask back around your face. You know that they can’t see you, but the fear of being punished for having it off overrides that fact. You want that punishment as much as you want the memories that are fighting against your brain. You have scars across your body from the last time it was taken off, which was when you had fought to get out - and the thought of disobeying by trying to get away sets your whole body aflame. The memory that coincides with the scars is red hot; it’s setting fire to that mental barrier as it fights to get past.

You can feel it start to crumble and you’re forced to lean down, to cradle your head between your hands.The pain that comes with the memories is overwhelming, overbearing. It’s hard for you to fight through it. But you know that you have to get away from where you are, you know that you have to evacuate to a safe place - somewhere HYDRA can rescue you. The sooner that they rescue you, the sooner they can fix your crumbling mental state.

But the pain is agonizing. It’s worse than anything you’ve ever felt and you aren’t sure how you can quiet the blazing white pain pounding throughout your brain. HYDRA should have known better than sending you out in the field when you were previously so unstable, but you know that no one thought that there would be a trigger out here. None of them had planned for this man called Buck to show up, to be here. And no one would have been able to tell how big of a trigger the unkempt male would be.

You can hardly feel your knees hit the hard ground, but you can feel the dry grass pressing into your arms. The dirt is cool against your burning forehead. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze and you are fighting the urge to cry out. Everything around you sounds muffled, like you have been plunged into a giant pool of water. You strain to hear the three agents, strain to find their location in relation to you. But it’s overloading your brain - you can feel the blood begin to seep out of your nose. You know immediately that you have lost your hold on your invisibility.

“Get out of there!” You hardly manage to hear Pierce scream into the ear piece, but the panic in his voice makes your head hurt even more.

Your force yourself to get up to your feet, staggering as you take a few steps to catch your balance. The world around you is spinning relentlessly; it feels like you are stuck in a snow globe that is continuously being rolled across the floor. It’s difficult for you to stay on your feet as you move forwards. You think that you’re moving away from the three people, but your sense of direction is incredibly messed up. You feel like up is down and right is left. You aren’t sure how you can fix the mixed up directions.

You stumble forward and your stomach seems to twist more with every step. The pounding in your head only seems to get worse as memories begin to pile on top of each other. You’re seeing bits and pieces of a past that you don’t remember; you’re being overloaded with unknown events and it’s hard to keep the little bit of food you had today in your stomach. You barely make it to a tree before you’re leaning against it. Your body is bending over and you’re losing what feels like the entire contents of your stomach. The acid from your belly has scorched the entire length of your esophagus and you are left dry heaving.

You can’t keep up with your mind. There’s flashes of a man, the same man you just saw, and he’s fighting alongside you. You see bursts of doctors injecting you with serums and you see bits of agents torturing you. Then there was a man - one who you didn’t recognize, in so many different moments that you couldn’t comprehend. There he was, placing a ring gently on your finger. There’s a big smile after, then you’re sitting under the stars on a blanket. But then it seems to turn sour and suddenly he’s lying on the ground - his lifeless eyes staring up at the stars. You feel a hand grab onto your arm and you think you’re being dragged back to that cliff, the cliff that that man died on and then you’re screaming.

You’re screaming with all your might, and you feel like you’re falling. You feel like you’re tumbling towards the bottom of the cliff; you see that it’s getting closer and you don’t seem to be slowing down. You’re panicking because you know that you’re going to die, you know that this isn’t going to end well. And you wish, you wish with everything in you that you could have been better, that you could have hurt less people - that you could have caused less casualties.

And you’re closing your eyes tightly - so tight, waiting for the impact. Then you hit the ground. But you don’t hit hard. You don’t feel any bones break and you don’t feel the agony of your body bending in ways it never should have. You don’t feel flesh and muscle being torn away from your shoulder, you don’t feel your legs being shattered beyond repair.

Even though you’re terrified, though you feel like you’re frozen from shock - you slowly start to test out your appendages. You keep your eyes closed because you’re scared to see the damage, you’re afraid to see where you are. For a split second, you wonder if you have died. You lay and hope that maybe, finally, you’re free from HYDRA.

You decide, no matter what you’ll find, that you have the courage to open your eyes. You slowly pry your eyes open and the sky above you is bright blue. There’s barely any clouds littering the big expanse of cerulean. The sun is shining brightly, warming the body that you thought would be cold from the shallow lake that was sitting at the bottom of the cliff.

And there is a pair of shining blue eyes staring down at you.

tag list: @verygraphicink

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

See the full post

22 notes • Posted 2021-09-01 05:18:40 GMT

#4

Just wondering if you have any info on where and when your book will be available? Also, please tell me you’re including peeves, his energy was always a nice part in the books.

So I’m currently packing to move, which was VERY unexpected in my schedule of things and has unhinged my previous timeline 😔. I’m hoping once I get settled in my new place and get everything else sorted out that I can get a timeline out for everyone! But they will be available on wattpad and ao3, I know for sure, and the only monetary expenses that I really ask for are coffee donations on my ko-fi (IF ONLY ABSOLUTELY POSSIBLE AND THE PERSON DONATING IS ABSOLUTELY SURE OF THEIR DECISIONS). The books will be free to access! And yes!! Peeves will for sure be included!!

38 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 16:06:57 GMT

#3

Panacea

Summary:

Months after moving out on your own to a small town by the name of Hawkins (and promptly transferring your school records to Hawkins High), you’ve found yourself as the token girlfriend of the highly-acclaimed Billy Hargrove. You seem to have it all - a hot boyfriend that every girl could only dream of, straight A’s and a golden 4.0 GPA, and not a single parent or guardian to hold you back. But the truth is, dating Billy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You’ve found that it’s lonely - he never shows up when he says he will, tries to pepper up his apologies with bouquets bought last minute from the grocery store down the street from his house, and - almost worst of all - he never even bothers to open up to you. You’ve seen glimpses of his home life, heard stories of what goes on behind closed doors from his younger step-sister on the nights she finds herself on your doorstep, and deep down you know that this relationship isn’t any good for you. People always say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree - and Max knows that Billy is a nuclear bomb set on a path for complete annihilation that will take you out with him once he finally detonates. Enlisting the help of her self-declared “baby-sitter” is all she can think to do - but she knows that Steve Harrington, with his familial history and his too-big-heart, can save you from the Death Zone.

Chapters:

(shitty) short introduction

Extra Scenes:

Inspired Works:

Song Inspiration

40 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 03:04:22 GMT

#2

Panacea [0]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 1,635

Warnings: Mentions of triggering/tough topics - such as abuse, racism, sexual coercion, and overall just toxic relationships. This is a general warning that will accompany every part of this little series.

Summary: The one where you are given an introduction to your story.

Taglist: @sydneekomspacekru

(shitty) short introduction | part 1 | part 2

Roane County in Indiana, otherwise known as Hawkins, was supposed to be your new beginning. It was your way of starting over - of leaving behind your deadbeat father and your dead mother, of purging yourself of the sins of your family. Indiana was a huge change, especially in climate, when it came to your place of origin in middle-of-nowhere Arizona. Admittedly, it took you a while to get used to the colder temperatures - but you did what you’ve always done; you adapted. This was a skill you had to learn from a young age, especially with how poisonous your relationship was with your father. And, thankfully, your adaptive nature enabled you to quietly slip into the social structure that made up Hawkins's High - your extroverted, friendly nature helped as well, gaining you quick traction among the clichés of popularity. It was with ease that you blended in among those in town that held good names; after all, your mother had lived here for the first seventeen years of her life. Even though she had chosen to leave Hawkins all those years ago, you were welcomed back with open arms - and it was like you had lived your entire life within the small square footage that made up the strange town. You have to suppose that a town of this magnitude never truly forgets who it marks as its own.

And, well, it didn’t take long for Hawkins to mark you as one of its own. The ease you had with moving there seemed to infiltrate every aspect of your life. You got good grades - A’s on practically every assignment, quiz, and test, got along well with the teachers and the students, had no difficulties finding a job at the local diner, and you even hit the jackpot with a bewitching significant other. At least, that last part is what every girl in your friend group told you. Now, Billy Hargrove was - in and of himself - a conundrum, to say the least. This was something you had figured out quickly about him; right after he had decided that your welcome to the town from him was his shirtless body hefting your heavy boxes into your new apartment. Before promptly deciding to spend the rest of the evening in the local diner with you, flirting more than you had ever seen a teenage boy do. In a way, you were still set apart from the others. Because you saw behind his façade; you saw behind the flirtation and sex appeal. There was a brokenness that you had only ever seen in one other place, and that was in the eyes that stared back at you when you looked in a mirror. The life he had at home wasn’t good - and your suspicions were confirmed the first night his younger step-sister had showed up to your apartment with him sprawled out in the backseat of his Camaro, with wounds that only could have been inflicted by a man in a drunken rage.

His sister, Max, was another person you had quickly formed a bond with. That night, when she brought Billy to you because she had no other place to take him, she found out just how far your generosity could spread. From that moment forward, after you had patched up the wounds on a moaning Billy, your apartment became a safe haven for the two of them - especially for Max. Every time their house gets too loud or too violent, Max finds her own way to you; a frequent occurrence that caused you to give her your spare key. Unfortunately, though, Billy’s conundrum of an existence only grew bigger after the night you patched him up. Even though you were supposed to be his nepenthe - the one thing that takes away all his pain and sorrows, the one thing that helped him heal - he refused to admit that you did anything to help him. In his mind, it was a weakness he couldn’t afford and - frankly - that never happened. Honestly, you see more of Max these days than you do of Billy. And you’re naïve about it. You think that just because you’re helping Max that you’re helping Billy; you believe that he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want you to be pulled into his horrific domestic life.

You’re naïve because you think you can fix him. You see the broken parts, the fragmented sides of this unhealed child that’s become your boyfriend - and you think that if you give him enough time, enough patience, that he’ll come forward, that he’ll let you help. But he won’t. Because, frankly, Billy Hargrove is past saving. He’s headed down a dark path and you’re only going to be caught in the crossfires. But you don’t know that; not consciously, anyways. He’s never laid a hand on you, so you think that things are okay. You don’t understand that it’s not okay that he doesn’t show up, that he yells at you when he gets mad and doesn’t talk about it after. You think that this is just his way of coping - that it’s different from what you did when you were with your father. And what makes your naivety even worse is that you swore you would never end up in a relationship like your mother. You watched, physical altercation after physical altercation, as your mother became more beaten and more bruised - and you swore, you promised, you vowed, that you wouldn’t become your mother. You broke that. Because you didn’t know that your parents started out the same way that you and Billy did. And as hard as it is to take it in, you are just as doomed as your mother was. You don’t have enough love to spare to put him back together again. But love isn’t what can fix him. Nothing can patch a boy together when he has crevices as empty and deep as Billy.

And this doesn’t begin to touch the things that he does with you that you know are wrong. He’s a very high-driven, sexual person - and this is something that you found out decently quickly once you officially got together. It never mattered if you were in the mood for it or not, you were too focused on trying to meet his needs when he finally told you about them that you didn’t realize just how bad coercion is. You think that you have it good because everyone else is jealous of the intimacy you have with him. You don’t realize that his coercion, his guilt-tripping to get you to please him is just assault. And even though he gets aggressive when you’re in bed, when he bruises you because you’re not doing something the way he likes, you don’t see the red flags. Deep down, you know that the way he treats you is wrong - but he’s never laid a hand on you outside of your private time together, so you think it’s okay. You think what you have is love and that it’ll get better once you get him out of his toxic household, but that’s not true. The abuse he experiences is so profoundly engrained in who he is that the toxicity will only follow him once he leaves. He might get out of the house, might leave behind his asshole of a father, but he is another victim that will fall into the idiom of the apple not falling far from the tree.

That’s just another way in which you and Billy are more similar than most people think. He’s turning out to be just like his father - and you’re heading down the same path that your own mother did; despite all your best attempts to pledge to her gravestone that you’ll be different. Your childhood was spent watching an abusive relationship pave itself; your father was always under the influence of something, whether alcohol or drugs, and it ignited an anger in him that could only be taken out in physical ways on your mother. You spent enough nights hiding in your closet with your blanket and pillow, trying to get away from the sounds of your mother begging and pleading, that you’d think you would know to get out of whatever you have going on with Billy. And one thing that makes you less similar to him, that sets you apart, is how you both coped with the abuse you’ve seen in your homes. You turned to books and school, delving into every interest and hobby that popped up as you grew. You found friends and a way out of the house and hyper-focused on how you would one day get out. But Billy, he turned to other things - like cigarettes and working out and blaring loud music. He found hookups and hyper-focused on how he was one day going to get back at his dad for all the pain, all the suffering, the man had caused him. Perhaps, in a way, you were two opposing sides of a coin - and maybe that was just another thing that added to your naivety about your relationship with him.

You watched as your father, day after wretched day, slowly killed your mother. You watched as she dug her own grave, watched as your father finally - after years of her surviving - put her six feet in the ground. And Max, the girl who’s practically become your own little sister, the girl who would do just about anything to see you get away from her older step-brother, is determined to save you. The way she sees it, your fate is now in her hands - and it’s not something that she, or her “baby-sitter”, will take lightly.

50 notes • Posted 2021-07-23 19:34:17 GMT

#1

Book: Novitious

Word count: 2,191

Summary: Cedric dies. Cho wasn’t the one dating him.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Drabble! A version of this may potentially be seen in the books.

She felt like she had been sitting here for hours. The sleek wood seat underneath her rear had grown uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that no matter how much she shifted she was unable to find peace in her lower back and thighs. At this point, she was nearly ready to burst out of her own skin - her whole body was trembling in anxiousness for Cedric, her Cedric. Amos had long ago given up on trying to comfort the young girl. Instead, he had his own worry plastered across his body - shown in the way his right leg continuously brushed up and down against her left, shown in the worn fingernails he had started chewing on, shown in the way his eyes continuously raked across the hedge mass that filled what was once the Quidditch pitch.

Cedric’s favorite sweater had been pulled over her small frame before they had left the Hufflepuff dormitories to come to the pitch. It was a little big for her, as the sleeves fell past her hands and the left shoulder had slipped down to reveal some of her bare skin. She also had his most favorite, well-worn scarf curled loosely around her neck; he had given it to her as an extra way to keep her calm. The way his scent engulfed her from the clothes did take an edge off of her consuming anxiety, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. She knew that something was wrong. Her gut was continuously twisting in on itself, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She swore her heart was beating millions of beats per minute - she almost felt sick from how hot her skin was growing. In an effort to cook herself down, she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. Her eyes made contact with Amos as she looked at him for the billionth time in the past ten minutes alone.

“He’ll be okay.” Amos whispered, offering her a shaky smile.

She wasn’t sure if he entirely believed the words he was saying to her. His whole posture screamed unease, and the glistening in his eyes was telling her that he felt the same undeniable sense of horror bubbling very deep within his bones. She took a deep, soft breath before forcing herself to return the smile. It felt awkward and out of place on her lips; she knew now wasn’t the time for such pleasantries. She shifted once more, leaning her right side into Neville’s left. He offered her a quick squeeze of her opposing shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed on the hedge looming in front of them. She had to assume the reason she was so anxious was because of everyone around her. Her empathic tendencies were making it way worse than it needed to be. Cedric would be fine. She didn’t think Dumbledore would want to risk losing someone so kind, so good, so strong. He would want him when the war she knew was on the horizon finally collapsed upon their reality.

Her hand found Neville’s, lacing their fingers together. She had been continuously going back and forth between holding his hand, leaning against him for comfort - and offering her own shoulder for Amos to briefly lean against as new waves of anxiety drowned over him. She had lost track of where her boyfriend was in the maze a while ago; if she was asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he and Harry had disappeared within the misshapen claws of the final Triwizard Tournament task.

After she had grasped his hand, trying not to hold it too tightly, she managed to steal a glance of two forms appearing outside of the maze. Her view was then obscured by the sudden movement of everyone around her; their various builds jumping to their feet in lieu of celebratory noises. The music began to play, but she couldn’t fight the panic that began to build in her chest. It bubbled quickly. It simply started around her heart as it constricted, inching down inside her before it slammed into her lungs - taking all air out of her body as her diaphragm was soon swallowed by what she could only recognize as dread. It quickly spread after, making every inch of her body feel numb. She was caught off-guard; she wasn’t sure why she was experiencing such hysteria. Another deep breath filled her lungs as she noticed Amos was trying to get through the horde that kept him stuck by his seat.

Her body went to follow, but was quickly pulled to a halt. Neville was gripping her hand in a fashion that almost hurt. She met his eyes with confusion - he was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, like it was a mixture. Dumbledore was yelling at Harry in the background. Every sound made it clear to her that she had been shoved under water, that she was on the verge of drowning in something she hadn’t yet discovered. She realized, with shock, that the emotions he was showing were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and distress. He discovered something she didn’t. Her eyebrows furrowed as she went to follow Amos again and his grip tightened, preventing her from moving.

“Nev, are you crazy? Let me go,” She tugged her arm. “Cedric’s there.”

“Isobel, you can’t go down there.” He stated.

“Neville, let me go.” She pulled against him again, starting to give him a glare.

“Is…” He trailed off.

“Neville. Let. Me. Go.” She demanded.

Her attention was drawn away from him for a split second, allowing her to see as the crowd around her paused - almost as if they were all involuntarily holding in the same exact breath. He seemed to grip even tighter on her wrist - and she cried out in response. He was trying to keep her from seeing something traumatizing, but was hurting her in the process. She could almost feel the regret of it oozing out of his body.

“You’re hurting me.” She almost growled, starting to become hysteric as she tried to pull away from him. ”Neville, please let go.”

He refused, but it didn’t matter. In the next second, screams from Amos were filling the air - letting everyone know his anguish in something that had to do with his son. She slammed her foot against Neville’s groin without even thinking. She jerked her hand back as he doubled over in pain but she didn’t stay to make sure he was okay. Her body moved on it’s own as she shoved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get down the stands, down to where she had briefly seen the outline of Cedric and Harry.

Someone was calling her name. She couldn’t tell who it was in her state of pure alarm, but if she had glanced back she would have seen Neville moving to grasp Draco’s arm - to hold him back from running to her. It was difficult to get through the mass of students, almost like they were all attempting to block her from getting down to the Diggorys. She could hear the older man sobbing, and she knew that the feeling she had in her gut since she had said goodbye to him wasn’t a mistake. Something awful, terrible, wretched had happened out in the maze.

She finally broke through the horde, and all anyone could hear was a loud, awful, gut-wrenching shriek. Laying there, in his father’s arms, was the first person she had really loved with her whole heart. And he was pale. Lifeless. His eyes stared blankly at the sheet of stars above him, his chest giving no movement. His father was clinging to him like he was the only thing still anchoring him to the world. The grief she felt yanked her forward; it made her legs collapse, her lungs stall, her eyes widened. She was caught by the rough embrace of someone - nearly taking both of them down to the ground with the blunt force of her anguish. She barely recognized that it was Harry as he pulled her into his chest. He tried to hide her from the heart-breaking sight in front of her - even though he knew it would forever be etched in her mind.

Suddenly she was seven years old again, breaking as Draco’s arms held her. Suddenly, she was back in the home she hadn’t seen in months - back in the manor that she had lost so much of her childhood to. Draco was holding her tightly, almost like he was scared she would sink through the floor and disappear if he didn’t try to hold all of her pieces together. Suddenly, it was her mother splayed out on the marble floor, her spiritless body outlined by a growing crimson puddle. She wasn’t fifteen, collapsed on the field of a Quidditch pitch in the arms of Harry. She was at home, witnessing the cruelty of her father; witnessing her world crashing down around her. She was experiencing a pain she thought nothing could ever beat. Her sobs were filling the large foyer of her father’s home, echoing throughout the empty space that was just so previously filled with screams from her mother, that was filled with Draco begging her to stay back with him.

And it didn’t matter if she was fifteen or seven. Because her heart broke all the same. The pain in her chest was immense, vast, monumental. It engulfed her. Her heart had been seized out of her chest and thrown at the ground, just before it was stomped, crushed, pulverized underneath the cruel heel of life. She shattered as her brain filtered through a long list of everything she would never get to see through with Cedric, filtered through the myriad of things his father would never live to see, filtered through the life they one day could have had. And she was that fifteen year old collapsed on the pitch. She was the fifteen year old girl struggling to stay afloat as her grief threatened to drown her. She was the fifteen year old girl who had just lost the one thing that had seen her through her darkest moments.

There she was, wishing the same blond-haired boy was there holding her as her whole world churned, tumbled, disintegrated. But she had a brown-haired boy instead, one with uncontrollable locks and teary eyes hidden behind crooked frames. She took what she was given, accepted that she had lost that blond-haired boy two years ago, accepted that she had Harry. She forced her hands to relieve their tight grip on his jersey before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly to his shaking form. He was crying right along with her and she wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him and reassure him that everything would eventually be okay. But she didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t. She didn’t believe that they would be okay again. Cedric was a loss to the Wizarding World. He was a loss that she didn’t know that she could bounce back from, that anyone could bounce back from. He was a lively, beautiful soul that had offered her a safe haven - he had given so many people hope that things would turn out okay.

Instead, Harry was here - comforting the girl who was always there for other people. It broke her even more to think of how she was failing to help those she loved, but she couldn’t calm herself down enough to help him out. Her chest was still heaving with panic and, though the tears had stopped, her shoulders still shook from the force of now silent sobs. She was terrified that he would let her go, that he would help her back to her dorm and leave her alone. She didn’t want to be left alone; she hadn’t been since she had first met Cedric, since she had moved in with Sirius. She couldn’t handle this loss. She didn’t know what would happen if she was left alone.

“Harry, do you think you could carry her? Let’s clear the area. We’ve already got most of the audience out.” A rough, cracking voice spoke up - pulling her attention away from her screeching thoughts.

She only moved to cling more securely to Harry, squeezing her eyes closed as the owner of the voice pulled them off the ground. She didn’t want to get another glimpse of Cedric. It was already carved into her brain. It took her far too long to process that the voice belonged to Mad-Eye Moody, but she didn’t care. She was more worried that Harry would decide she was okay alone and would leave her. Even so, she was more worried about the feeling of dread growing once again in her stomach. It was almost unsaid between the two of them that they knew that Cedric’s death marked the beginning of the war. This would only be the first of many deaths that would completely alter her existence.

53 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 03:38:54 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

Episode 5 spoilers!

Back in my thoughts again, you know the drill. A bit lengthy!!

I cannot stop thinking about this scene—how Steven clearly remembers that this was his room,

And how he remembers the exact thing he said during this part of the scene, which proves that he was, in fact, in control for at least a couple seconds.

BUT. He doesn’t remember anything from this moment forward. That’s why he wanted to see what their mother did to them, and that’s why Marc was set on getting him out of the room before he saw something that would severely taint his memories and what he knew of their childhood. At the same time, Marc knows EXACTLY what happened.

I’m positive that Steven dissociated at that moment and Marc took over. In general, he didn’t want Steven to remember what truly happened. It’s his way of making up to Randall/RoRo, I would like to believe. He treats Steven like the younger brother that he lost when he was a child. The one who loved drawing the one finned fish. The one who was always eager for adventure. The one who was screaming for help back in the cave.

Remember? His mother explicitly stated:

“Marc, what do you do? Keep an eye on your brother, okay?” And Marc is set on fulfilling that promise to Steven.

Marc let Steven keep all the good memories, while he himself lived through all of the bad ones, just so that he could protect him from getting hurt and feeling pain. Steven, his alter, who he considers to be his little brother.

That’s the reason why Marc was so adamant about simply telling Steven what had happened in that room at the top of the flight of stairs, so Steven wouldn’t have to watch the memory play out in front of him. Seeing what happened would definitely hurt more than just knowing what happened. By telling Steven himself, he would have control over what he would reveal to him, and how he would tell him.

That’s why Marc’s first thought when waking up in the Asylum was Steven. That’s why Marc never complained about fronting right after Steven was pierced by the weapons back in Mogart’s. That’s why Marc probably set up a line for Steven to contact “his mother”, and why Marc replaced Gus with another fish. That’s why Marc didn’t want Steven finding out about him in the first place.

Marc spent most of his life protecting and saving Steven the way he wished he could’ve protected and saved Randall. I am literally bawling over this.

Also ending this with another appreciation for Oscar Isaac because he’s a damn legend for the breathtaking portrayal of Steven AND Marc. He better earn awards for this series or I will riot.

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neighborhoodparker

2 years ago

Choose your fighter partner

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neighborhoodparker

6 years ago

The Ones You Save

Summary:

Your story begins in 1940; a beautiful baby born to two loving parents. 17 years later, your father’s involvement in the Howling Commandos comes back to bite you in the ass and you find yourself getting shoved off a cliff. When you wake up, you are in a strange facility with a man who wants to make you the second half of a volatile duo. You have no choice and become known as Ghost. Decades down the road, you help Winter Soldier escape and the consequences are horrendous. Can the newly rehabilitated Winter Soldier save you? Or is it your fate to stay in HYDRA’s clutches?

Chapters:

Prologue

Chapter One

Extra Scenes:

Inspired Works: