#multimusemenagerie

send 🙌 to grab my muse by the throat || Accepting

Q's hands came up immediately; well-maintained nails dug into James' hand in the chill of panic before something much colder came over their face and Marcus forced their body to still. He tightened his hands around James' wrist for just a second and then withdrew his left just enough that the face of his watch was pressed against the man's arm. A pulse of energy immediately erupted from the metal face of the timepiece, forcing the tendons in the hand grasping him to loosen.

|| I'm this fucking close. This close, I tell you.

👌🏻

(Astarion: Your fingers are touching, you know.

Steve's mouth opened. And then closed without a word leaving his lips. He'd always blamed himself for what had happened to Bucky but he'd always reassured him that it wasn't. Now, James was finally the one to say it. To put that blame on him where it so rightfully deserved. What Steve could have never imagined was how terrible it would feel.

He was transported back to that day, decades prior to when they were teenagers. Steve had gotten in a particularly nasty fight that ended up with Bucky being knocked out cold trying to defend him. One might think that it was Bucky's choice to get involved but that night, Sarah had taught him - maybe intentionally, maybe not - that it would always be Steve's fault because Bucky would always fight next to him. So he needed to stop getting into fights because Bucky was going to get hurt. He cried that night because he knew it was true.

But this was even worse than that. James had put it in his head that it wasn't his fault and now all of that reassurance had been ripped away like a bandage covering a bleeding wound.

Bucky never wanted to fight but that was all ever Steve knew and Steve would always fight. Bucky would always follow and Steve knew that. Despite it all, Steve would go against his best friend's wishes to fulfill his own desires and Bucky was right. He was always the one to take the fall. He was always the one to get hurt. He was always the one who suffered.

It was his fault. It had always been his fault. Almost every single thing that had happened to Bucky was his fault and it hit him like a freight train. Very rarely did Steve cry but his eyes brimmed with tears as he looked at him. He swallowed hard.

"One more time."

"Honestly? I'm more worried about the extra that'll come in the monthly bill if the blood leave a stain on the white furniture." The one downside of a rented place. "I'm not paying for that."

The reaction from James certainly delighted him and before Helmut realized it, a small, relieved breath had escaped him. Of course he had taken note of how many days had passed since James had eaten anything – much less touched his food. Something he decided not to point out at first, not wanting to ruin this… momentary peace that he and his guest had somehow established since he first appeared on his doorstep.

But of course he worried, that was something he could not help. From what he recalled from reading the Red Book, James’ enhanced body needed proper nourishment, and the former assassin surely wasn’t getting enough of it by not eating anything.

Which pushed Helmut to take matters into his hands. Quite literally.

     “I’m glad you approve of it. It has been a while since I’ve cooked anything, so I’m honestly pleased to know you like it.”