#He is worried he will lose his second family with his new found passion

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 27 - "I don't know if they will accept this."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Started writing this yesterday and finished it during lunch break today. So I decided to take a break tomorrow and post this early :D

Danny nervously poked his scrambled eggs as he sunk just a little lower in his chair. His eyes flicked back and forth between all of his new siblings that were currently in a heated discussion not noticing his slow withdrawal from the discussion and acting like he really didn't want to get noticed by them.

"Have you seen Mister Freeze's new sidekick? The white haired one that's probably a Meta with ice powers?"

"You mean Wraith?"

"Wait, I thought the kid was Ivy's sidekick? He helped blow up a facility last week!"

"No, no, no, no! Isn't he with Scarecrow?! I am sure he accidentally screwed up with the Fear Gas ten days ago so no one go harmed! But Scarecrow screamed at him that being new to the job wasn't an excuse."

"Didn't he help Catwoman steal two artifacts a couple days ago? One of them wasn't cat themed though I am pretty sure he was with her that time…"

"Wasn't he also the kid that was with Joker the last time he broke out? You know the white haired kid that was forced to assist him and tripped him right into his own trap and made the whole arrest a lot easier and quicker than usually?"

"It's like the kid switches who's sidekick he is every week…"

"Maybe he is interning with villains before breaking off to do his own thing? We better keep an eye on him."

Danny sank just a little bit lower in his chair and avoided looking at Alfred. Of course Danny knew about his new family's night time jobs, well day time in Duke's case, but when they had asked him if he wanted to take part in it he had declined. They didn't know about his second form, they only thought of him as a Meta with ghost powers that just escaped a horrible situation and now wanted a quiet and somewhat normal life. So they had accepted his decline in going into hero work, especially Alfred and Bruce appeared to be most relieved and happy about that decision at first.

But what Danny hadn't told them was that he might have declined going back into hero work, that didn't mean he would stay completely out of that side of his new family's life. The half ghost hadn't planned on it but it had all started with him accidentally coming across Poison Ivy. She reminded him of Sam in her values, so before his brain was able to catch up Danny asked if she wanted help blowing a facility that was pumping toxic waste into the water. Years of helping Sam with organizing activist protests did that to his brain.

One thing led to another and somehow Danny found himself more often than he liked in his phantom form acting as a sidekick or assistant to the rogues this family was fighting. In a way Danny felt like he was now more of an anti-hero than a hero, still fulfilling his obsession of protecting by finding creative ways to foil the rogues' plans if they get too dangerous or murderous but not really doing the whole righteous hero stick either.

Plus by working with Mister Freeze and Scarecrow at times he also gets to fully live out the mad scientist side of his brain. With them especially he gets to create whatever his weird wired brain could come up with, though, he did 'accidentally' leave behind USBs or papers with his inventions for Tim to find at the crime scenes.

What his new brother did with them was none of his business. If the Bats and Birds suddenly had new equipment in their arsenal that looked eerily similar to his inventions than that was that.

The problem was… his new family probably wouldn't like or accept that kind of turn of events. They were righteous and defenders of justice with moral codes and standards, Danny wasn't sure he could fulfill at the moment. Watching his new siblings arguing back and forth about Wraith, his new anti-hero alias Selina, Harley and Ivy had come up with, made his stomach sink every morning. In fact Danny was getting more and more scared with the passing days that his new family would kick him out the moment they learned about it just like his former parents had done.

He wished he had Jazz's contact to talk this over with her, but because of his situation Bruce found it better to wait a little longer before he could safely reach out to her. Maybe he could ask if Harley could talk with him instead.

A cup of tea was placed before him and Danny's head snapped up (when had he started to look down?) to find Alfred smiling calmly at him. "Master Daniel, I believe a nice cup of tea will help calm down your nerves."

"Thanks." Danny mumbled his hands cupping the cup and letting the warmth of it seep over his hands into his arms to comfort his nerves. He took a sip, eyes going wide for a moment before he looked over to Alfred who was currently taking away Tim's third cup of unfinished coffee while the other was distracted with the ongoing discussion. The old man gave him a knowing smile and Danny couldn't help the small grateful one that formed on its own, though he also couldn't help the slight feeling that Alfred knew what was frazzling Danny's nerves so much.

"Jason, maybe you can get into contact with Wraith?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"You have a different reputation than us as Red Hood. He might be more willing to talk with you, to figure out his motives and such."

Danny choked on his tea, hurriedly placing the cup back on the table before pounding his own chest in a desperate attempt to get any tea that went down the airpipe out.

"Danny! Are you okay?" Dick was instantly on him, worried older brother vibes and all that.

He wheezed before breathing in relief once he stopped coughing, giving the oldest a barely hearable "I'm fine."

"<tt> Try not to die stupidly like this, Fenton." Damian clicked his tongue and Danny gave him a toothy grin.

"I am already half dead." He heard Jason snort. While the family thought Danny was just a Meta with ghost-like powers. Danny had explained his accident to them and how he died and revived with powers through it when they asked him why he was insisting through jokes that he was half dead. Jason and Dick were the only ones who really enjoyed his death related jokes and puns, the others were more worried about his mental state.

"Leave the death jokes to Todd, Fenton."

"Oh come on, don't ghost me like that! My jokes are just as much to die for then his are!"

"Fenton."

Danny just laughed, while the previous discussion made him fear for the future, he still loved the family he had gotten added into by sheer luck. He had come to quickly love them all and felt like his own weirdness fit perfectly into theirs. It truly made him hope that he could stay with them for a long time and maybe even add Jazz into the picture as well once his whole situation was more secured and Bruce would allow him to contact her and his friends.

Later that day Danny was in the library reading a book on Molecular Structure of the human biology and how it can mutate depending on external influence, as a preparation for his next endeavor as Wraith with Killer Croc, when he felt tapping on his shoulder.

Turning his head slightly Danny startled finding Cassandra in his personal space sitting next to him with a mirthful smile. She gave him a small wave as a greeting before sitting back a little, apparently satisfied with the fact that she sort of scared him there a little.

"Hey Cass." He smiled, putting one of the many bookmarks, Jason had distributed and stored away everywhere in an effort to stop his siblings from creating dog ears in books, on the page he was on before closing the book in his hands.

"You worry too much, relax." She signed with a reassuring smile once Danny had turned his full attention on her. Confused, the half ghost on the other hand tilted his head, puzzled about what Cass was going on about. He did feel rather relaxed right now.

"You being Wraith." Wide eyed Danny hurried to cover Cassandra's hands, like one would cover another's mouth if they blurred out a secret. His eyes hurriedly darted around in their surroundings but aside from the shelves filled with books Danny couldn't see nor sense anyone that might listen in on them.

Cass was shaking in silent laughter as Danny nervously turned back to look at her. "How…"

Slowly she freed her hands from his and patted them comfortingly before beginning to sign again, smiling knowingly. "I saw. Your body language is the same."

"I…" How was he going to explain this? He had gotten found out, was Cass going to tell him to leave now? Was this the end of his new found family life? It came sooner than he anticipated. Blankly he stared at his hands that uselessly lay in his lap on the book cover, one hand slowly moving to nervously trace unseen patterns on the books spine.

Danny did not see how Cass frowned at that action, all mirth gone from her smiles. She did not like her brother was drawing into himself, doubt and fear started to radiate from his body language and Cassander didn't like that even more. She moved a little closer, so that she would have an easier time to reach Danny and poked his cheek mercilessly until her little brother looked back up at her.

"No need to explain." She actually spoke instead of sign just to show Danny how serious she was. "It's fine. Funny even. Like Selina."

"But…" A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed, trying to find the right words. Cass waited patiently for him. "Mom and Dad… my former parents… they didn't accept me as a ghost hero…"

Cassandra nodded but didn't sign nor say anything, seeing that there was more her newest little brother wanted to say but still trying to find the right words for. It was something she could relate to. Unable to find the right words, hadn't she been through that before too. She lay a comforting hand down on Danny's shoulder, once more waiting patiently.

"I… I don't know if they will accept this… this turn of events. Especially in this family. You all are taking the Hero route and I…" Danny swallowed once more. "I can stop, I can change. I just don't… I don't want to lose another family…"

Before Danny knew what was happening he was enveloped in a warm hug, he blinked several times before realizing that Cass was hugging him tightly. He was held like this for a while before she drew back from him, poking him once more to make him look at her once more.

"No need. Don't stop." She spoke her voice, soft and smoothing while smiling at him brightly.

"But…" She shook her head, silencing whatever Danny wanted to say before giving him a mischievous smile, her hands letting go of his shoulder so sign her next words. "You are not hurting anyone, you keep them from killing, from being too dangerous to civilians, not really breaking any big laws. You help us in your own law breaking way. Like Jason does."

"I am not as good as him…" Danny mumbled still unsure but Cass only smiled fondly ruffling her little brother's hair.

"You started to smile more since you became Wraith." She flat out told him, causing Danny to look up at her stunned and she laughed silently. "Keep going. If you go too far, I will be there to pull you back."

"You're like Jazz…" Danny mumbled, finally with a little smile on his face and Cass returned it with a satisfying one of her own before pulling him in for another hug, he returned this time.

That night, Orphan watched happily how her little brother laughed carefree and freer than he had in a month sitting on Killer Croc shoulders, testing out his newest invention while the rogue was trying to get him off, unsuccessfully so far. Her other brothers surrounded the two and tried to figure out what was going on since Wraith was supposed to be their rogues gallery sidekick and not challenge them like that.

She laughed even when suddenly out of nowhere a USB-Stick hit Red Robin in the face. Obviously she had caught Wraith flinging it in his direction, but she was not about to tell them that. Orphan would let them figure that out on their own, meanwhile she was going to enjoy watching her newest little brother smile and laugh while being the chaos gremlin she had seen in him from day one as he was messing with the rogues as well as vigilantes / heroes of Gotham.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Lost

anthony bridgerton x fem reader

summary: During a storm, Anthony Bridgerton finds his friend Y/N unconscious after a fall from her horse.

The skies over Aubrey Hall were dark and threatening, the air heavy with the promise of a storm. Anthony Bridgerton, the eldest of the Bridgerton siblings and the responsible Viscount, often found solace in the rhythmic gallop of his horse across the rolling fields. On this particular day, he decided to go for a ride despite the gathering storm clouds, hoping the fresh air would clear his mind.

As he rode through the familiar paths, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. She had been a constant in his life since they were children, their bond as strong as any familial tie. But recently, he found himself noticing her in a new light ��� the way her laughter warmed his heart, the spark in her eyes when she spoke of her passions, and the gentle grace she carried herself with. Yet, he had not fully confronted these feelings, pushing them aside in the face of duty and responsibility.

The first crack of thunder startled Anthony from his reverie. He looked up, realizing the storm was upon him. Deciding to turn back, he urged his horse into a faster gait. As he approached a familiar clearing, he saw a sight that made his heart stop – Y/N’s horse was galloping wildly, riderless.

Fear seized him, and he spurred his horse towards the clearing. There, amidst the pouring rain, he saw her – Y/N, lying motionless on the ground. Her form was crumpled, mud and rain soaking her clothes. Without a second thought, Anthony dismounted and rushed to her side.

“Y/N!” he screamed, his voice barely audible over the howling wind and rain. He knelt beside her, his heart pounding in his chest as he gently turned her over. Her face was pale, her eyes closed, and she was utterly still. “No, no, no,” he muttered, panic rising in his throat.

Without wasting another moment, Anthony scooped her up into his arms. She felt frighteningly light, and the fear of losing her gnawed at him with every step. “Hold on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “Just hold on.”

The journey back to the Bridgerton estate was a blur of rain and desperation. Anthony’s muscles burned with the effort, but he didn’t slow his pace. His only thought was getting Y/N to safety, to help. The image of her lying unconscious in the rain fueled his determination.

Finally, the grand silhouette of Aubrey Hall loomed ahead. Anthony’s cries for help alerted the staff, who rushed out to meet him. “Get the doctor!” he shouted as he carried Y/N inside. “Now!”

He placed her gently on a settee in the drawing room, his hands trembling. The house was a flurry of activity, the Bridgerton family and staff moving quickly to assist. Anthony barely registered his mother’s worried face or his siblings’ concerned questions. All he could see was Y/N, still unconscious and pale.

The family doctor arrived swiftly, ushered in by the commotion. He examined Y/N with a professional detachment that both reassured and terrified Anthony. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited for the doctor’s verdict.

“She’s sustained a concussion and some bruising,” the doctor finally said, his tone grave. “But she’s strong. With proper care and rest, she should recover fully.”

Relief flooded Anthony, and he sank to his knees beside her, tears mingling with the rain still dripping from his hair. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”

The hours that followed were a blur. Anthony refused to leave Y/N’s side, holding her hand and willing her to wake up. His mother brought him a dry set of clothes, but he barely noticed the discomfort of his wet clothes. All he could think about was the fear of losing her, and the realization that he couldn’t bear the thought.

As the storm raged outside, the hours stretched on. Anthony’s mind raced with memories – their childhood escapades, the laughter they shared, the unspoken bond that had always existed between them. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen that she was more than just a friend?

It was in the quiet hours of the night, as the storm began to wane, that Y/N finally stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, and a soft moan escaped her lips. Anthony, who had been dozing fitfully by her side, jerked awake, his heart leaping with hope.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes opened slowly, focusing on his face. “Anthony?” she murmured, her voice weak.

Relief and joy surged through him, and tears filled his eyes. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “You’re awake. You’re going to be okay.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she took in his tear-streaked face. “What happened?”

“You fell from your horse,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “I found you in the clearing. I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

Tears of his own began to fall as he spoke, the weight of his fear and relief overwhelming him. “I was so scared, Y/N. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

She squeezed his hand weakly, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I’m here, Anthony. I’m okay.”

In that moment, Anthony knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. The realization that he could have lost her, that he had almost missed his chance, was too much to bear. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me all these years.”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern. “What is it, Anthony?”

“I love you, Y/N,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. But I was too stubborn, too scared to admit it. Finding you today, seeing you like that… it made me realize how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I don’t want to live without you.”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as she listened to his heartfelt confession. “Oh, Anthony,” she whispered. “I’ve loved you too. I’ve been waiting for you to see it, to understand that my heart has always belonged to you.”

The weight of their unspoken feelings hung in the air between them. Anthony leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the love and emotion that had been building for years, a kiss that promised a future together.

When they finally pulled apart, Anthony rested his forehead against hers, tears of relief and joy mingling with hers. “We’ll get through this together,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you, Y/N. I promise.”

And in that moment, as the storm gave way to a peaceful dawn, Anthony and Y/N knew that their love was strong enough to weather any storm. Their journey had been filled with twists and turns, but they had found their way to each other at last, their hearts and lives intertwined forever.

[changetyre]

Cupid

SUMMARY: After the harsh moments you endured with your husband there appear to be better days ahead. Part of the Verstappen Family Verse

WARNINGS: none? Short.

A/N: Lea is 6 and Ivy is 3

Things got better, not easily but they did. Max and you had decided that before anything else you had to talk through the hard months you had endured and also make sure both Lea and Ivy got some sort of explanation and apology for the way they were affected by their parent's miscommunication and being on the receiving end of the pent up anger and frustration.

That's not to say that Max and you spent another second away from each other physically, the same night as Max and you finally spoke you had a passionate night. It was one of the best nights you had perhaps because you'd been longing for each other again for so long, or because of all the emotion involved, or maybe both. 

Christmas luckily had been filled with love and joy around the house once more, both Daniel and Lando as well as their families had all spent the night with the family something which both Lea and Ivy had greatly enjoyed. 

Flashback **

You let out a deep breath as a soft breeze from the open window woke you up. You could feel your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist which immediately brought a smile to your face, weirdly also making you want to cry. 

"Morning" You heard Max's hushed voice behind you as he leaned closer burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

You giggled at the way his nose tickled your neck but leaned backward and deeper into his arms. "Hi." 

 "Merry Christmas liefde." He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then one on your jaw, on your cheek, and finally on your lips as you spun around to face him. 

"Merry-" 

"MAMA PAPA!" Your bubble of romance was interrupted as your screaming children burst into the room. 

"Woah!" Max huffed as they jumped on the bed landing on top of him. 

"PAPA SANTA CAME!" Lea had a hard time containing her excitement. 

"MAMA DEWS PWESENTS!" Ivy giggled happily as she sat on your lap. 

"PAPA MAMA COME QUICK!"  Lea hopped off her father pulling his arm for him to get up. 

"Why don't you go wake up Lando and Dani huh? I'm sure they'll be excited that Santa came." Max tempted the girls who happily obliged with his suggestion.

Despite the interruption, it was a happy and loud morning for everyone.

**

New years had been a little rougher since you'd been feeling a little sick a few days before, which you thought was probably simply from all the food that you'd been eating during the holidays since it'd happened to you before. 

But things became much clearer to you a month later. You'd stopped yourself from taking the test, pushing it as far back as you possibly could because you weren't sure how you'd handle another negative test, afraid that you'd lose yourself again. 

But finally, you did. You had to. You'd noticed you were becoming distracted and distant, losing yourself in other ways because of the worry of what might be and the stress of making the same mistakes again so you'd simply opted for finding out. 

So there you sat, a few days away from Valentine's Day, on the toilet lid staring at the numerous tests on the counter that indicated you were pregnant. There were far too many emotions coursing through your body a mix of joy and complete fear, it was so different from when you found out about Lea and Ivy. 

You were unsure of how long you'd sat there, just...staring. But it was long enough to worry Max who'd been left to entertain your girls downstairs. 

"Liefde?" You heard him call you from your bedroom. 

You simply looked to the door not having time enough to do anything before he'd opened the bathroom door. 

"Max" He immediately knew something had happened from the way you said his name so weakily. 

"Are you okay wha-" He didn't have to finish his question before his eyes found the tests on the counter. 

"I'm sorry I just...I just found out and-" You weren't exactly sure how to handle this, a few months ago both you and Max had been desperately trying for a result like this but not long ago you'd also both decided that this should only happen when both of you were in a better place and even though you had managed that there was still so much to through that it scared you. 

"Oh my god." Max's eyes glossed over as soon as he picked up the first test reading its result, quickly picking up another, then another before he let his eyes scan the rest of the tests. 

"Max-" You wanted a reaction, you wanted him to say something but he simply stared just like you. "Max." You called him again your voice still just as weak but he finally turned to look at you. 

"oh mijn liefde." He pulled you into his arms holding you tightly after noticing your fear and uncertainty. 

"I'm scared." you sniffled in his arms being honest about your feelings. 

"Shh, we'll be okay...I promise you we'll be okay, this is our little miracle." Max whispered softly to you placing his hand on your stomach. 

This only made you cry harder, this time a sense of relief washing over you.

"I love you." He whispered kissing your temple as he continued holding you tightly. "I love you so much."

You cried for a few minutes in his arms before finally looking at him through teary eyes. "We're having another baby." It was like it was finally sinking in for you. 

Max couldn't hold back the laugh that rumbled in his chest. "Yes, we are." He rested his forehead against yours, his own tears mixing with yours. 

"I'm pregnant again." You closed your eyes finally allowing yourself to accept the truth. A huge wave of relief flooding you this time, of pride and joy. 

"Yes, you are." Max laughed, cried, and smiled with you. 

"We're gonna be okay." You said to yourself a little louder this time, wiping your eyes. 

Max raked his fingers through your hair, placing a soft kiss on your lips. "We're gonna be okay." He repeated with you. 

"MAMA!" You heard Lea call for you. "IVY PAINTED PAPA'S TROPHY AGAIN!" You heard her yell after. 

Both Max and you looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. "You ready for some more of this?" You jokingly asked your husband. 

"With you?" Max smiled. "Always." 

[crazyforteyam]

Metkayina Tales (part four) - I Did It For You (Neteyam POV)

Neteyam x f!Metkayina reader summary : Neteyam will do everything to save the woman he loves. wc : 3,7k notes: I want to try something new so I write this part from Neteyam POV. And we're closer to the end (4/5) series masterlist

Since I saw Y/N for the first time, she always appears in my dream. 

"What's your name?" She asked, but damn, this is the first time I feel so hopeless and tongue-tied. Believe me, all my words are deep in my throat, ready to release. But she's like a charming witch, casting her spell every time she's around me.

"I will heal you, Neteyam," then she grabbed my hand, and took me to the beach, cleaning my wound. If only she knows how beautiful she is, with her eyes lightened in passion every time she heals people. 

"Neteyam, you're a fast learner!" She giggled in happiness when I succeeded in the spear lesson, and her laugh is the one view I could watch forever in rewind. Surely, she's owning my mind. 

Then suddenly her face turned into sadness, tears brimming in her eyes, hair strands on her forehead, covering a bit of her tattoo. 

"I failed to cure Ihaka,"

She looked miserable and I want to embrace her when all of sudden, she hugged me first. The feeling was flooding over me like a rushing tide. That's the first time I touched her. It feels so nice to feel her in my arms, and I know I'll do everything to make her happy.

"Neteyam, please, take me to my parents," now her breath is panted and she fainted, right in my arms. Her face slowly disappears, like a mist, and her body rises to the sky. I tried to grab her, but she is floating away in the air. Fear crawls over my body, prickling my skin. I run as fast as I can to chase her, but I am always beneath her, like a child chasing kites. I fell many times, my knees, elbow, and foot were bleeding but still, she was out of my reach, nowhere to be seen. 

"NOOOOOO!!" I screamed in pain as loud as I can. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Neteyam, wake up!" Suddenly all the view I saw before disappeared, and changed into Lo'ak's face. His eyebrow is furrowed with confusion, and his hand is on my shoulders. I woke up with a sudden movement, my breath was panting, and I can feel sweat dripping on my forehead. 

"You had that nightmare again, do you?" He asked again, his voice filled up with softness. I groaned and sit, with my hands running in my braids, trying to massage my own head. "Yeah, I think so,"

Lo'ak looked at me with worry in his eyes. He talked slowly, "Bro, if you still don't ready, you can do it tomorrow,"

"What are you talking about? I’ll do it today," my lips frowned, and I stood up, taking a few steps out of the pod, so I can see the sea. 

Today is the day. I'll go to the Deep Trench and collect the Red Seaweed, the only plant that can cure Y/N. I trained with Olo'eyktan in just 2 days. Actually, it was planned to be much longer, but Y/N's condition is getting worse every second. I took a breath deeply and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself.

Since Y/N is coma, I always had a nightmare, of losing her. These nightmares wrap their evil hands around my soul at night. It's not the first time I dreamed about her though, but obviously, my previous dream is much happier than this bloody nightmare. These dark thoughts may follow me, but I can’t let them win the fight. I won't let this nightmare turns into reality.

Life without taking chances is no kind of life at all. If I had to run, if I had to crawl, swim a hundred rivers, and climb a thousand walls, then I will do it all. I would find a way to save Y/N, I need her that much. There's no place that far when it comes to the life of the woman I love. 

I heard some steps that brought me back to reality. I turned around and found Tuk running towards me, and she hugged my waist. I bent to pat her head, while she said "Neteyam, we've been looking for you!" 

And suddenly, all the members of my family approached me.

"Neteyam," Dad called my name. He still has some wounds on his face, but he looks strong. He patted my shoulders, "Today it’s the day. Good luck, son. I'll be near you down there,"

"Thank you, Dad," I smiled at him.

Now my mom is kissing my cheek. I could feel the strength in her voice when she talked. "My son. I believe that you can do it today,"

"Mother, your support it's all I need," I whispered and she nodded.

Kiri smiled at me and I could see her eyes teared up, as she took my hand. “Brother, take care. I'll help you down there,” 

I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Kiri,"

Lo'ak didn't say anything, but he hugged me tightly and gave me a reassuring look.

Then Kiri put her arm on my left shoulder and hugged me, while Lo'ak was on my opposite side. Mom, Dad, and Tuk joined, and we created a big family hug. 

"Sully's stick together," Dad said, and all of us joined him, chanting our family motto.

"Sully's stick together,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After eating and getting ready, I went to the Olo'eyktan’s pod, as he and his family were already waiting. Yesterday, we made plans for my departure to the Deep Trench. Lo'ak had a suggestion about Payakan taking me there, and this idea was opposed by Olo'eyktan. 

But Payakan is the only Tulkun who knows the details of the location around Three Brother's Rock, the place where the Deep Trench was located, and finally, this plan was accepted. I'll be wearing a gill mantle later, to help me breathe underwater. 

I bring my fingers to my forehead, to greet all the Olo’eyktan family. They greets me back,  and Tsahik gave me a special potion, which will optimize the muscles in my body when swimming later.

When I finished drinking, Olo’eyktan approached me and asked, “Are you ready, Neteyam?”

I answered him with no fear. “I am, Sir,” But then, I remember Y/N. 

“Olo’eyktan, can I see Y/N in private before we leave?”

Tonowari looked at his wife, and she nodded. He smiled and pat my shoulders. “Of course,” Then he spoke to his family, “Let’s give him some privacy,” and they all left the pod, leaving just me and Y/N in the pod.  

I walked toward Y/N, who is still laying unconscious on the carpet. I felt my breathing suddenly speed up. Next to her, are all the Tsahik medicines and equipment, lying in a mess. Some of the medicine bottles were seen to have been opened without being closed again. The needles and loincloths just lay beside the bottles. 

My eyes looked at her body again, her hands folded on her stomach and her hair framed her face. There are dark circles around her closed eyes. Her face looked pale with no expression, without the beautiful smile she used to wear, or her ocean eyes. Her chest rose and fell weakly every time she breathed.

I knelt next to her and ran my fingers through her forehead, her hair, then down to her cheeks, which were starting to look gaunt. My eyes darkened with worry. Her absence only makes my heart grow fonder of her. She is my everything and I can't let her suffer like this forever. I must save her.

I kissed her forehead softly, with my fingers still caressing her cheek. Although she is in a coma, I believe that she can hear me, so I whisper to her ears.

“Stay here, Y/N. I’ll try my best to save you,”

The mission starts at midday. The gill mantle was already wrapped around my back. My father, Lo'ak, and Tonowari take me to the Deep Trench, riding on Payakan, so I could save my energy. They would stand guard above the trench, with some of Metkayina's best swimmers and healers, just in case. Next to them are Kiri and my Mom sitting on ilu, as they refused to be far from me. 

From the outside, Deep Trench appears menacing. It’s dark and filled with shadows that play tricks on your eyes. Even in the daytime, the trench looked sinister. But I won’t let fear rule me. There's no place that far when it comes to the life of the woman I love. 

I approached the Deep Trench, with Tsahik hand’s on my shoulders. She made a sign with her hand, a prayer for Eywa, for my safety down there. Then her fingers made several circular motions on my forehead, arms, chest, and legs, a ritual to get rid of any bad things that might happen. When it finished, she nodded at me, permitting me to enter Deep Trench. 

Before I entered the trench, I turn around and looked at everybody. They all looked tense, even Payakan didn't move a bit, as if he was frozen in the water. But then, my Dad smiled at me, like reassuring me. I smiled back at him and swimming down the trench, disappeared from his sight.

As they say, Deep Trench is dark and cold. Sunlight is not enough to illuminate this place. The Red Seaweed color would stand out, but it's hard to see clearly in this trench. I have to squint my eyes to make out what's in front of me. I blinked a few times, trying to focus. 

Suddenly, a group of small, glowing fish approached me and swam around my body, as if trying to help me see in the dark. Some of them swam in front of me, like guiding me. I smiled. This must be Kiri’s help.

It's not just the fish, it seems like several plants also glow in the dark,  making a path toward the Red Seaweed. I can see the plant now and picked some. Tsahik said that I better pick several, so I filled up my waist pouch with all of those plants. 

After that, I swam up. But suddenly, I feel dizzy. My chest hurt and my breathing was shallow, and instead of swimming up, I swam in a round motion. 

Then suddenly, I hear Y/N's voice inside my head.

Hey, don’t be so tense. You must be relaxed, otherwise, you’re not gonna make it.

I blinked. Have I gone mad? Her voice sounds so close, like guidance within me. Then I hear her voice again.

If you're a lover, you have to be a fighter. If you don't fight for your love, what kind of love do you have?

And that's it. I know I must fight for her. Her voice is like a push I need, suddenly I can focus again and swim up in a straight movement.

When I reached out the trench, a hand gripped my arm, helping me. It was Dad. He put me into Payakan's fin, and we reached the surface in a minute. 

I could feel all the Metkayina people staring at me. They were sitting on their ilu, tsurak, or just swimming on the surface. There were some amused expressions in their eyes when they looked at me, something very different from what I received before.

My family was all around me. Dad took me to his tsurak. Mom and all my siblings were hugging and kissing me and I was too tired to reply, so I gave them a smile and nod. Then both Tsahik and Oloeyktan approached me, and I gave them all the Red Seaweed in my pouch.

"This is the plant. Save her, please," I said when I gave them the plants. They both nodded, and Oloeyktan made his way toward the people, sliding in his tsurak, with me and my family following behind.

People were still keeping their gaze on me, and I got a little bit shy. And then Tsahik looked at me, as she smiled.

"Neteyam," she declared, "Now you are one of the Metkayina Tales!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walk back and forth in my family’s pod. It's been five hours since I gave the sacred plants to Olo’eyktan and Tsahik, but until now there is no update yet. I started to upset, what if I’m too late and the plants can’t heal Y/N? The view of that bloody nightmare appeared again in my mind, and I exhale deeply, trying to erase that. Although the sun would still shine on, my whole world would all be gone. I could not bear the thought of losing Y/N. 

Every little sound feels like it’s multiplying tenfold, and I can’t sit still. The rest of my family also waits in silence as they sat in a circle. Kiri hummed a prayer to Eywa, and Tuk followed her. My mother stood up and stopped me from walking, as she put her hand on my shoulders.

“Relax, my son. Y/N will be fine. You did a good job,” She tried to convince me.

“Mother, but there is no news yet. I’m scared. What if I’m too late? What if Y/N couldn't be saved?” I muttered.

“No, you come at the right time. Eywa will help Y/N for sure. What if you start to pray for her?” She suggested.

My lips parted trying to respond to her, but the sound of steps walking toward the pod stopped me. All people rise from their sit. Tonowari and Ronal enter the Sully's marui. I walked a flash toward them in a second and tilted my face, asking for an answer. 

“I and my wife came here for telling the news.” Tonowari began to speak. “We tried to give the sacred plants to Y/N. We created a paste from half of the plant and smeared it on her face, as the priest prayed to Eywa. We were so afraid of our daughter’s condition…” he paused, causing my heart to begin flutter loudly. 

“And how is she now?” I asked impatiently.

“At first, there was no change. But then, we realize that the dark circles around her eyes began to disappear. Her heart rate increased, and the color back to her skin. She is not awake yet, but she is stronger now.” Ronal continued and then she smiles, this news relieved everyone. My mom hugged me proudly as a smile finally created on my face. 

Finally, Ma’Y/N is saved. 

But I must be patient, she is not awake yet. Her health is my top priority now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(two days later)

“Neteyam!” Tuk shouted while she entered the pod. She walked towards me in a rush and held my hand.

“What is it, Tuk?”

"It's Y/N! She woke up!"

It's like my body was shocked by an electric volt. My eyes widened, and I ran to the Olo'eyktan's pod as fast as I could. 

Tsireya and Ao'nung were in the front part of the pod, and I asked them hurriedly.

"Where's Y/N? Is she already awake?" 

"Yes, and she's inside," Tsireya smiled. 

“But Neteyam, please give privacy to my parents,” Ao’nung spoke, and his arms lifted in front of my chest, preventing me to enter the pod. “Wait here, until my parents are out. It won't take long, Y/N has woken up since this morning,”

I frowned but then sighed and nodded. Better not to make Olo’eyktan angry. So, I lean at the trees beside the pod and look at the sea. My fingers rubbed my head, and I can hear the sound of my breath. I feel so restless, every second seems like forever. 

Finally, a couple of minutes later, Olo’eyktan and Tsahik stepped out of the pod. They seems relieved, and Olo’eyktan eyes found me. I bring my fingers to my forehead to greet them and asked Olo’eyktan politely. 

“Sir, I heard that Y/N is already awake. Would you permit me to see her?”

“Yes, Neteyam. Y/N is inside the pod,” Olo’eyktan smiled at me. 

"And she's waiting for you," Tsahik continued, and I entered the pod instantly. 

I saw her crouching with her back to me, and her hands touching Tsahik's medicines and equipment, which had always been next to her when she was unconscious. Her wavy brown hair is now shoulder-length short and fell naturally without any hair ornaments. My eyes couldn't leave her body, and when she stood up, I called her name softly.

"Y/N," I called.

Her ears perked up when she heard my voice. She turned her body slowly, her hair swaying gently, revealing her face little by little. 

And finally, I can see her face, the center of my gravity. At last...my love has come along. My lonely days are over. The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of this meeting. Her ocean eyes blends beautifully with the tattoo on her forehead and glistened when she looked at me. 

We walked slowly closer, and it was like she had bewitched me, my eyes could not escape her face. There are no more dark circles under her eyes and her skin was no longer pale. My eyes checked the wavy pattern on her forehead, cheeks, arms, and legs, all around her body. All are still the same, she is still gorgeous as always.

A smile was engraved on my face as we held hands. My fingers touched her face, stroking her cheek gently. While her fingers touched my chest, right on the gunshot wound. Worry painted on her face.

"Neteyam," she finally spoke, and my name sounded melodious when she said it. 

"How are you?" she asked again, her hand still touching the wound on my chest. 

My fingers touched hers on my chest. "I've never been this good. You saved me, Y/N," 

She shook her head, then smiled and said, "It’s you who saved me, Neteyam,"

“I did it for you,” I answered her.

She smiled and approached me closer, her hands now curled on my back, and embraced me. I hugged her, my arms tightened around her body, my chin is on the slope of her neck, and her sweet scent fills up my nose. 

I hugged her tightly as if I would never see her again. Tears already welled up in my eyes and fell to her cheek. She saw it, and her fingers wiped out the tears on my face gently, as she smiled.

Now I held her head, patted it, and my fingers played with her hair. She looked at what I was doing to her hair, and she said, "Mom and Tsireya cut my hair to tidy it up. She said that while I was unconscious, my hair kept falling out. So they rearranged my hair. Do you like it?"

I smiled and said, "It's all right. I like it." 

Yes, she looked different with her new hair, but she is still beautiful to me. To be honest, my feelings for her are already deeply rooted in my heart, and her looks are only part of the reason. My fingers now touched her cheeks, which still look gaunt. I frown. Her health is much more important to me. 

"But, you look very skinny now. You must eat, I'll cook for you." I said. 

"Neteyam, I’m all right," she refused politely, but then a growling sound came from her stomach. I burst into a laugh, while she smiled sheepishly. 

"You can't lie to me, Y/N. You are hungry, indeed" I told her. 

I took her hand in mine and led her to her pod through the connecting part. She sat down in her pod, while I went to the kitchen, to cook her favorite food, grilled fish. Luckily, there was still plenty of food here. in between cooking, I stole glances at her. The feeling of excitement bubbled up in my chest, finally being able to be with her again. 

The emotion of our reunion sealed as a perfect photograph in my soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since that day, I have been going to her pod every day. I asked Olo’eyktan and Tsahik for allowing me to be a helping hand to Y/N, and they accepted. So I take care of her, make sure she drinks her medicine, cook her food, and accompany her when she wants to go swimming. The rest of the clan rejoiced when hear about her condition, and two days later, Tsahik gave birth to the fourth heir of the clan, a handsome baby boy. 

Y/N's health condition has also improved, now she no longer needs to take medication. To celebrate this and the birth of Oloeyktan's fourth child, he announced that there would be a celebration at Hope Cove,  which would be held the next day at night. All the people of Metkayina were invited, and the whole village was busy with preparations for the celebration. And my family is no exception.

So here I am in my pod, with Lo'ak helping me as he put some glowing beads on my hair. We spent minutes in silence before he speak. 

"Bro," 

"Yes?" 

“I heard some Metkayina girl try to court you today,” Lo'ak raised his eyebrows and I could hear the disbelief in his voice.

Since Tsahik announced me as one of the Metkayina Tales, some girls are starting to give me presents and affection, especially when I'm alone. Well, some even try to cross the line. And I didn't like that. I sighed. “Where did you hear that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Did you accept her?” Lo'ak asked though I assumed he already seemed to know the answer.

"No," I answered firmly.

Lo'ak smiled. His hands took my necklace and slowly put it around my neck. "Then who is this girl that you are waiting for?"

I closed my eyes. "You exactly know who,"

“Of course,” Lo'ak chuckled. “Bro, tonight you should ask her. Anything could happen tonight. You must stick to her side. And ask the question, ask her to be your mate, before somebody else does and you'll lose her forever,"

The thought of losing Y/N forever entered my mind and brought back again the glimpse of the bloody nightmare I used to see. I opened my eyes, then I looked at Lo'ak with full confidence.

"You're right. Tonight, I will ask her,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

notes : to be continued soon! :D I'll be very happy if you leave a reaction, lmk what do u think of my fic!:) so sorry for late update, I'm sick :(

[crimsonlyinglilly]

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

Here's Day 20 of @whumptober 2024, a little late sorry

A Lost Coat - in the aftermath of losing Freya, Esther bleeds and Elijah is born of another woman and Mikael, one with her own secrets. Selkie!Elijah

character death, but it's one of mine. Juliana meets her grandfather, it couldn't have gone worse, and Elijah learns his selkie children are born with Vampire blood in their veins.

----

Juliana is the fifth child born to her parents, the first to have children of her own; she never thought she’d be the first to die.

But she did and she will.

She was two hundred and fifty eight.

Too young considering her family.

Selkies are ageless, never growing old or fragile, never fearing old age and the death that came with it but unlike her parents, uncles and aunts, they aren’t much harder to kill than a human.

Even with uncle Kol and father’s witches attempts.  

Her first meeting with her grandfather had ended before she even got a word out, her neck broken and left on her dad’s bed.

She had woken up shortly after he found her, pressed into his chest, fearsome Klaus Mikaelson sobbing over her, tears falling into her hair. The vampire blood she was born with waking with her death, either from her Pa or Father, giving her a second chance. 

She winced at the thought of her father, she wouldn’t get to see him again, she had written a letter for him at least. Tristan De Martel was prone to over reacting when it came to the few things he loved, she hoped placing her children in his care would distract him from endangering himself, for all they were adults by Selkie standards, even older than her youngest brother Jacques.

Oh, she hoped Jacques wouldn’t blame himself, it was bad enough that clearly dad and pa would. She had returned to the land to travel with the Mikaelsons, to help lessen their dad’s sadness over Jacques leaving for the sea.

It was something they all felt as they grew a call to the ocean, uncle Kol understood it the best out of their human-vampire family members, with his loss of magic.

Pa understands, even if none of them will talk about it, worried it was break the thread of his sanity if he learn his whole life had been a lie, that he had been denied half himself, flayed at birth and forced to grow deaf to the call of their birthright, and the cut from it in a new was with the spell to make him a vampire. Grandmother, the mother pa was taken from and even now kept, from found them all when the time came to explore the waves on their own. She taught them what she should have once taught pa and promised that one day she would find a way to fix what the witch had done and allow them the chance to truly swim with pa.

Juliana was never going to have that chance of that. She knew if she even showed a hint of regretting the choice she had already made her dad would vanish and return with some poor human for her to drink.

So she kept smiling, as her hands tightened on her seal skin, while held in pa’s arms.

Aunt Rebekah and Uncle Kol had stayed behind to stop Mikael from delaying them but even with their vampire speed she could feel herself fading as they arrived at the coast.

Her choice had been made the moment she woke up, the moment her grandfather had killed her to spite her dad without even knowing who she was.

She loved her papa but she couldn't live like him separated from her skin, the call of the sea dulled, she had felt that freedom and couldn’t risk losing it.

“We’re here.” Dad said as they arrived on the shoreline, his voice raw and thick as it had been when she first woke up. As soon as pa put her down she skipped over to him to pull him into a hug.

His arms shake as they tighten around her, and more tears join the rest in her hair. She had always been one of dad’s favourites, the one to share his passion for paints, there had never been any jealousy among her siblings. 

Freya had preferred Uncle Finn.

Pa had clung onto Bellamy after his fall out with Freya, who had only just started to reach back out to them after Juliana had been born.

Aloisa was auntie Rebekah’s favourite

Théodore was Father’s, his heir even though as an immortal he doesn’t need one.

And she had dad.

Now she was leaving dad behind. She pulled away slowly before another shiver could hit her, it was bad enough they were watching she wouldn’t let dad feel it. Dad reached for her as she stepped back and she twirled out of his reach, laughing as her skirts flared, a fun thing about human’s need for layers of clothes to preserve their precious modesty.

Pa watched with a small smile, dried eyed, he hadn’t cried, even when they had thought her already lost to them, he had left dad crying over her and ran to collect her sealskin from her hiding spot.

He understood.

‘How could things change so much’ she thought as she slipped free of the dress and under clothes, just the day before she had been walking arm in arm with dad speaking of his favourite scenery spots in that town as they went to get new paints.

“Come with me.” She called to pa offering a hand. 

“Of course.” he replied without hesitation, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to dad, before taking her hand and walking with her towards the surf.

“I’m sorry.” she said as she found herself clinging too tightly to his arm, her nails likely biting into skin as she tried to ignore the transition, it ached, her blood too hot, her skin felt wrong and she was starved.  

"It's not your fault." he reassured her and for a moment she wonder what he had been like for him, the first of their kind having no understanding of any of it waking up after his father had killed him, but she could dwell on it for too long as she notice the guilt in his eyes

“It’s not yours either,” she told him,  “any of yours. Just Mikael’s.” she said clearly as she leaned into him to rest her cheek on his shoulder as they walked, she had once dreamed of meeting her grandfather, she thinks they all had before they learnt what a monster he was.

“I’ll-” he started,

“No.” she cut him off “I don't want any of you going after him, I want you all to be safe and happy.”

“Juliana” he sighed as he stopped walking.

“Papa.” she replied, turning to look at him and reaching up to wipe the first tear away.

They walked until it was too deep and then they swarm a short while until Juliana stopped and looked back the shore was a blur of colour in the distance, her dad barely more than a speck.

They floated for a while in the silence other than the waves, her bare other than her seal skin over her shoulders and pa in his full suit other than his abandoned jacket.

The setting sun made the ocean alight with colour and her hands itch for a brush to catch it on canvas.

Too late for that she felt a sudden ache at all the painting she would never get to create, never get to see her children find their own families, never- so much unfinished. 

“It’s alright my sweet,” Elijah called, smiling at her softly and setting one hand on hers and lifting the other to wipe away the unshed, “you can let go.”

Juliana swallowed around the lump in her throat and looked away from the ocean to her pa, the one that brought her into the world, Elijah Mikaelson, looked at her with unwavering love and pride and she smiled back and did.

First letting go of her human shape, returning to flippers and whiskers, it lessened the ache of the transition but she could still feel her death approaching fast.

She swam around pa in a few loops splashing him and nudging him until she managed to get a soft laugh from him, she ignored the tears she could hear in it, retreating to him as she grew tired.

A positive of being the smallest of her siblings in seal shape, pa could and did slip one of his arms under her to pull her to him much like her, all of their first swims.

Juliana looked up into her papa’s face and died peacefully, with the last thing she saw being the same as her first.

—

Elijah didn’t make a noise as his daughter's form went limp in his arm, his supernatural hearing catching the moment her heart stopped beating even over the waves.

He kept treading water as his tears slipped silently into the sea.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

What if (in the dark Dino squad Au) after they got this traumatized and sick and Victor is the only one who was actually able to help, Reader kind of falls into a sort of Stockholm syndrome(not-really-but-kinda) where they don’t want to leave Victor, like they still don’t want for all humans to die, but they’re now so scared and traumatized by what happened to them that they are actually rather happy/content staying with Victor who protects them, loves them and makes sure they’re always happy and healthy and taken care off. How would the others and Logan react? I’d assume Victor would be rather happy about that.

- 🐝 BeaBee

Okay! Good question, I haven't had anyone ask about Stockholm Syndrome-esque reaction from Reader! (I'm not sure if this is a path the au will take, but im happy to explore it here!)

The other teens woukd feel a bit weird. Let's explore their thoughts on it first:

Scott would feel a bit... guilty. Also a little freaked out. Because while yes, they teamed up with their enemy, who has only ever been worried over their health (obsessively enough that he feels freaked out being too close to him), this is still someone who hates humans, and plans to destroy them. He knows tbey agreed to this. He knows why they agreed to this. But it doesn't make him feel any less off about it... (He was the most reluctant to go to Victor for help)

Rogue would be similar, but she also realizes Reader is still having to recover, so it might not last... And even if this sense of gratefulness does last, they begrudingly owe him... She doesn't like most humans, and while she doesn't want them gone, she does want to get back at those who did this to Reader, so... if they're partnering with someone as mean as a tiger, then that's what they'll have to do (she was the second most reluctant, but less so than Scott)

Pietro doesn't like it. He really doesn't. But, facts are: Their new ally saved Reader's life, or at least is keeping them from dying; he's not torturing them or dissecting them or whatever evil scientists and doctors and geneticists do; he's feeding them while Logan is... not available...; and he plans to let them live. So technically speaking, this guy is okay. Look, he'll go along with what's going on until they have a reason not to. Plus, they get to figure out how some of this stuff woks, so if they want, they could try to at least mitigate some of the damage done in Victor's plans... or try to change things for the better... (He was in the middle on it, but leans more towards for their choice rather than against it)

Gambit... he doesn't like they had to make this choice, but... it was the lesser of two evils. And if this evil raptor can keep Reader alive and doesn't want them dead, then he's all for whatever plan he has. He doesn't want to change the environment to the prehistoric era one. He doesn't want to change certain animals or plants. He doesn't want to lose his friends, his family. And he won't. As long as they do this, then they have a say in what happens. It isn't easy, and it isn't pure, but it's what they have left. It was this, or let Reader die... And that simply wa.ant going to happen... (He is for the choice they made, albeit he discussed it with the others before they all decided on it)

Logan.. was against it. He only found out last minute, when the choice had already been made and the deal sealed. He thought it was a bad idea, because the last time he talked with brother, was hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago. And the brother he remembered hated humans with a passion. He was scared his brother would harm the kids if he ever found out they were human, or had been human... Then he wakes up, to find out he's being kept sedated, so he doesn't leave... He's not happy. But... when his brother is able to keep Reader from dying... He reluctantly accepts it. He doesn't like Reader liking his brother so much, but until they're fully healed or cured, they can't afford to leave...

And Victor has no complaints in the least. He has a nestling who is curled against him half the time, he has the other teens to care for, and he has his brother, all with him, alive, and as well as they can manage... So he's quite pleased with this new situation...

[cosette141]

Lost and Found (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 12

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Author: cosette141

Words: 70k+ (so far) | 10k (this chapter)

Summary: (Begin Again sequel) Emma had felt lost nearly her whole life, and Killian had lost everything he’d ever found. That is, until they found each other. With the Crocodile dead and Cora turned good, it seems happy endings have returned. However, new crises arise, threatening the budding family between them and Henry. But this is a family that always finds each other… and they have yet to fail. CS, Anti-Neal

AO3: Ch1 | Ch12 (this one)

Chapter 12

The closer they got to Skull Rock, the more rigid Killian became.

And once they did reach it, Emma instantly knew where it got its name.

Skull Rock was truly at the heart of the island, deep within the jungle, and it was a giant cavernous structure that resembled—she should have guessed—a skull. Just the sight of it sent a chill racing down her spine. The closer they'd gotten, the quieter the jungle became, until all there was around them was utter silence and the distinct sense of anticipation that felt like a vapor.

Killian had sheathed his sword a while back, trading his weapon for her hand.

His grip on her almost hurt.

And just past her own fear, she could feel his.

Together, they stopped a few yards away from the cave's opening, dark and dim with the flicker of torchlights, as uninviting as Regina had once been to her when she'd arrived in Storybrooke.

Emma felt herself swallow hard, feeling her determination, her courage, her belief, waver.

"You can do this, love."

Emma turned at Killian's soft voice, seeing his eyes on her. Seeing the sheer panic like a rough sea, but still holding onto that determination as well, that belief in her, even smiling at her.

And it touched her, how hard he was trying to encourage her, when she knew he so badly wanted to take her as far away from here as possible.

But she couldn't leave Mary Margaret and David—she couldn't leave her parents here. She just couldn't.

She saved them once, when she broke the curse.

She can save them again.

Somewhere inside her, she felt like Henry would be proud.

Emma let out a breath, trying to slow her hammering heart.

But her fear wasn't a bad thing; it seemed to be at the core of her magic.

She could use it.

"Ready, love?"

Emma turned to Killian, again seeing his unwavering loyalty, devotion, trust in her.

And without hesitation, Emma kissed him, her eyes shutting, her free hand finding the back of his neck. After a half second hesitation of shock, Killian kissed her back with just as much desperation, just as much passion. They pulled away, a little out of breath, her forehead resting against his. Her eyes opened, finding his an inch away.

"We'll do that again," she whispered.

It was her own promise.

It was we'll be okay.

It was trust me.

It was you won't lose me, too.

He heard the words she didn't say, and he smiled, hand cupping her cheek, thumb resting by her ear, eyes on hers like he was memorizing her. "Aye." he said just as softly, voice husky in a way that ran through her whole body.

Taking a breath, they both turned. Killian released her hand with the utmost reluctance to take his sword, and Emma grabbed hold of his hook, leaving her cutlass in the sheath over her back.

It wasn't the weapon she would be wielding.

That one was the warmth in her chest, racing as fast as her adrenaline.

As one, she and Killian started into the caves.

The moment they were inside, Emma immediately felt different. It was like that warmth inside her was slightly heightened.

"Emma?"

Killian's worried eyes were on her, at the hitch in her step at the sensation.

"I'm okay," she said. "I just… I think I can feel the magic."

Killian's brows drew together, unsettled. "Aye," he agreed. "The source of Neverland's magic resides at the top, a fire that's burned since magic had been brought here," he said gravely. With a swallow, he said, "That's where I assume we'll find your parents, and Pan himself."

Another chill racing down her spine, Emma clung onto that determination inside her, that belief.

She could do this.

She could do this.

Their ascent through the caves was chilling, every step rising the hair on the back of her neck, and increasing the sort of pressure in the air, the magic.

But the moment it became almost suffocating, Emma felt Killian's left arm flinch, pulling her slightly behind him, his muscles growing tight as rock.

And Emma saw what he did.

She gasped.

Just past the curve of the wall opened up into a large cave. Even more torchlight lit the room, but in the center of the room was a fire that raged blue in a pillar of rock.

But just past it, was a cage.

And within it, were Mary Margaret and David.

Emma's eyes widened.

Mary Margaret and David saw her at the same moment she saw them.

"Emma!" gasped Mary Margaret.

"Get out of here!" cried David.

But not a moment later, something flashed from behind the pillar, and suddenly an attack of what looked like black fog—magic—was heading straight for her and Killian.

"Emma!" cried Killian, his hooked arm moving instinctively around her, but Emma's eyes only narrowed.

Because she was ready.

The magic already having been at her fingertips, she let her fear react. The white-gold veil erupted sharply in front of herself and Killian just before the attack hit. Emma felt Killian's arm tighten around her, felt his heart pound as he pulled her back to his chest, but she'd been fast enough; the attack only made her jerk before it dispersed at the impact, falling away like smoke, and she staggered a little.

And standing before them through the clearing smoke, yards away, was a boy, his hand steaming with black residue of the attack.

And from Killian's flinch, Emma knew exactly who this boy was.

Peter Pan.

The boy was sinister looking. But more than that, there was an almost crazed, haunted look to him. He wasn't well; his weakness showed in the shadows under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, and it was clear that the attack he'd just launched took a hell of a lot out of him.

Pan stumbled with weakness, catching himself on the pillar, breathing hard, eyes ablaze. "Learned a few tricks, have you, Savior?" he spat, stumbling again with a groan, his eyes screwing shut.

"Emma," breathed Killian urgently. "While he's weak!" He lifted his sword, moving to attack, and Emma lifted her hands, trying to figure out how to attack rather than protect.

"Boys!" roared Pan, furious eyes snapping open, and suddenly out of the shadows of the cave, a group of Lost Boys emerged, armed with arrows.

All aimed at Mary Margaret and David.

"Attack me," hissed Pan at Killian and Emma, who suddenly froze, "and they die."

Emma exchanged a shaky look with Killian, who shared it.

"Don't worry about us!" shouted David, knuckles white from how hard he was holding the bars of the cage.

"Emma, run!" choked out Mary Margaret.

"I'm not leaving you!" said Emma, voice tight and pained, not lowering her hands, but not attacking either.

Beside her, as if fully taking Emma's lead, Killian's sword lowered, but was still firmly in front of him.

Pan let out a laugh that sounded almost hysterical, making a shiver run down Emma's spine. He managed to get back a sense of balance, but was still swaying on his feet, only looking more deranged.

"Let them go," she growled. She couldn't attack him as long as the Lost Boys had arrows aimed at Mary Margaret and David, and she couldn't protect them, herself and Killian at the same time. Her shields didn't stay up longer than a handful of seconds.

A sliver of doubt sped through her.

"You were foolish enough to give yourself up for the people who abandoned you," hissed Pan, making Emma, Mary Margaret and David flinch. Pan's furious eyes turned to Killian. "And you, Captain," he spat, that icy grin at his lips. "Leading yet another to their death?" Killian went rigid beside her. "You were foolish enough to let your brother die, and now her?"

Emma's eyes snapped to Killian.

All the color drained from his face.

"Don't worry," drawled Pan icily to Killian. "After she's dead, I'll put you out of your misery."

Emma felt her heart break at the look in Killian's eyes.

"Now," growled Pan to Emma. "Surrender yourself to me, or watch your parents die."

Emma spared a glance at them.

The panic in their eyes.

The tear falling down Mary Margaret's cheek.

Emma's eyes snapped back to Pan.

They were at a stalemate.

Hoping against hope that she was anticipating what Pan's instincts will be, Emma let her magic return to her fingertips, readying it. She shifted her weight a little, nudging Killian, hoping he knew to be ready.

And from how he only grew more tense, she knew he was.

So she took a breath, narrowed her eyes at Pan, and said firmly, "No."

Pan's eyes narrowed. "Then you leave me no choice. Boys!" And he turned toward her parents, rearing back to attack at the same time the Boys released their arrows.

Emma acted quick.

She channeled her magic, every thought, every emotion toward protecting her parents, and she watched the shield form around the cage. The Lost Boys' arrows struck the shield, snapping on impact.

Emma felt herself smile.

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pan's eyes flash.

And he spun sharply, sending his attack…

…at her.

Emma's heart leapt into her throat, as she tried to summon another shield, this time for herself and Killian.

But this time, she wasn't fast enough.

Her shield only half-formed, Pan's attack struck and shattered her magic like glass. The force of it struck her hard, even if the partially-formed shield softened the blow, throwing her backward.

The last thing she heard was Killian, Mary Margaret and David screaming her name.

"EMMA!"

Mary Margaret's voice tore out of her throat, watching through the veil of the shield Emma had placed around the cage as Pan's attack struck Emma, throwing her backward.

Killian had staggered with the blow, but didn't take the brunt of it. He caught Emma as she fell, falling to his knees, nothing short of panicked horror in his eyes. "Emma!" he cried, shaking her, but her eyes were shut.

She wasn't the only one down, however.

This attack took a lot out of Pan, sending him down to his own hands and knees, heaving.

"Hook!" exclaimed David. "Is she—?!"

"She's alive," he breathed, and as Emma's shield faded from the cage, Mary Margaret could just see the slight rise and fall of Emma's chest as she lay in Killian's arms. The pirate desperately stressed her name, shaking her gently but urgently, his voice cracking with panic.

"For now."

Pan's rugged threat preceded a harsh groan from the demon, who was still shaking hard with weakness.

"Get Emma out of here!" cried David to Killian.

Killian spared a look to them. And something changed in his eyes, a softness, almost like an apology, before even more determination settled. He began to gather Emma in his arms.

But before he could even lift her, Pan growled something wild, and power was gathering again in his palm, however slower than it had the first time.

Killian's eyes widened at it, eyes finding nowhere to hide, no time to run.

So just as Pan released the attack, Killian let go of Emma to dart in front of her.

And the attack, instead, struck Killian.

"Killian!" cried Mary Margaret, panic tearing his name from her lips as the attack hit Killian square in the chest, the force of it throwing Killian into the cave wall hard enough it shook the room.

Killian crumpled to the ground, the only movement from him an unsteady breathing.

"Hook!" cried David.

Mary Margaret watched with wide, horrified eyes.

Pan, who had collapsed to the ground once again, dragged himself onto one arm, his furious eyes finding his attack having missed his target. He let out a sound half between a growl and a scream, body shaking even harder with weakness, eyes narrowed as sharp as a blade, utterly murderous.

But Pan's eyes zeroed in on Emma as he struggled to his knees. "No protective shield this time," he hissed. "No one left to save you," he mused to himself, sounding utterly unhinged. He laughed, a sound that raced a chill down Mary Margaret's spine. "Goodbye, Savior," he gasped, thrusting another attack with his hand, making Mary Margaret and David cry her name—

But the attack didn't come.

Pan collapsed back to the ground with a groan. He stared at his shaking hand like it failed him, a little fear in his eyes.

His magic.

Mary Margaret felt hope rise sharply in her chest.

His strength was failing him.

Mary Margaret looked sharply at Killian, who was still unconscious, but still breathing, still alive after taking an attack Pan had meant to kill Emma.

She felt a shaky smile at her lips.

Pan was too weak.

He was too weak.

And from David's expression, so much hope cutting into his panic, he made the same deduction she did.

But then, still struggling to get up, Pan suddenly looked at the barely flickering blue flame in the pillar, a smile dawning, freezing Mary Margaret's hope in her chest.

And Pan's weak, yet sly, wicked smile turned to David and Mary Margaret. "Don't get too… excited," he rasped, managing to get himself back to his knees, shaking like he was hypothermic. "Once I absorb the last of Neverland's… magic," he huffed, "I will have the power to destroy her."

Pan lifted his trembling hand to the flame, eyes shutting, the flame dissipating bit by bit as color, as strength, slowly returned to him.

Mary Margaret's eyes snapped back to Emma, lying unconscious on the ground.

Unable to protect herself.

With no one to protect her.

And again, Emma was hurt and in danger and alone, for saving them.

Agonizing emotion was twisting Mary Margaret's heart, tears burning her eyes.

She was not going to let Emma die.

Fierce determination raced through her.

She was Emma's mother.

She would not let her die.

Especially not for them.

Mary Margaret jerked hard against the cage, only for one of the Lost Boys to jab a sword toward her.

But even so, there was a wariness in the Boy's gaze—all of their gazes, as they watched Pan.

And it made Mary Margaret realize—they were afraid of him.

An idea struck her in an instant.

They just needed to get to Pan, to get him away from the magic before he could regain energy.

Mary Margaret quickly faced the Boys.

"You don't have to be afraid of him," said Mary Margaret breathlessly, making the Boys look at her sharply. "He's weak—if you stop him, he won't be able to control any of you anymore!"

But as one, the Lost Boys only seemed more afraid at the idea, and didn't move.

"Then let us," breathed David, grabbing the bars in desperation. "Let us out of here and we will stop him for you!"

The Boys hesitated.

Then, as one, shook their heads.

Mary Margaret felt panic racing through her.

How could she get through to them?!

But it hit her—

As painful as the fact was, she understood them now.

"You're afraid," she breathed. "Not just of Pan," she said, making the Boys stiffen. "You're afraid because he's the only person who ever made you feel wanted."

At the shock in their eyes, and the fact that the fire was half gone, Mary Margaret spoke faster.

"You've spent your whole life wanting parents," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as they turned to Emma. "You wish for it every night, and it never comes true."

Pain in her chest, at the echo of the little, heartbroken girl in her dreams.

Of her little girl.

"How did you know that?"

The small voice was from the youngest looking of the Boys.

His weapon was no longer in front of him, no longer aimed at them, now loosely held at his side.

"Because," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek, "the Savior is my daughter. And because of me… because of us…" She looked at David, who looked as torn up as she felt. "Emma had to live like you," she told the Boy. "Without her parents. Without us." Another tear slipped down her cheek. "And I can't go back and change that, no matter how badly I want to." she whispered.

She grabbed the cage bar, her knuckles white. "But I am here trying to do everything I can to make it up to her," she choked out. "I am trying to save her, so that I can make her feel loved and wanted and like a daughter for the rest of her life."

A tear fell down the Boy's cheek, like every word she said was every desire in his heart.

"And if you let us out of here," she breathed, seeing the fire nearly gone, Pan nearly risen to his full height, "I promise that we will take you home with us. And we will find you families and you will be wanted."

"You'd really do that?" asked a different Boy.

"You'd take us away from Neverland?" breathed another with incredulous hope.

"I promise," whispered Mary Margaret. "Just let us stop him and save our daughter!"

A heavy hesitation.

The Boys exchanged looks with each other.

However, the fire was gone.

And Pan was on his feet, grinning at his newfound strength, even as unsteady as he still was.

"Let us out, now!" cried Mary Margaret.

"Hurry!" exclaimed David.

And the littlest Boy broke through, finding the opening to the cage and swinging it open, freeing them.

Mary Margaret and David ran, but it was too late; Pan's black magic at his hands, he grinned something so wicked, so evil, as he launched the attack, straight for Emma.

Mary Margaret and David didn't even hesitate.

They ran as one, reaching Emma just before the attack struck. They both grabbed her, pulling her into their arms as they shielded her from it, shutting their eyes for what Mary Margaret knew with a heavy certainty would be their deaths.

But they would save Emma.

This was the last of Pan's magic.

Emma will be safe.

And so she smiled, even when it struck.

It hit both Mary Margaret and David at once, making them both curl tighter over Emma, protecting her as much as they could.

But…

The attack didn't feel like an attack.

Suddenly…

It just felt warm.

It was familiar, too—so much like that feeling that rushed through her when David woke her from the Sleeping Curse.

Mary Margaret opened her eyes, seeing David inches from her, looking at her in the same bewilderment. And they both looked down to see not only Emma, but all three of them encased in soft golden light.

And turning slowly around, both of them gasped.

Pan's attack had stopped inches from them, as if the golden light was acting like its own shield. Mary Margaret looked back at Emma, but she was still unconscious. And this sort of magic… it wasn't the white-gold that Emma's magic always was.

This wasn't Emma's magic; it was something different.

"No!"

The enraged scream had Mary Margaret turning back around, seeing Pan staring in utter fury.

But not a moment later, the golden light around the three of them exploded outward—

—sending Pan's attack straight back at him.

The black magic hit him, destroying him in a scream and a burst of black dust.

And with it, the very air seemed to loosen, seemed to breathe.

Mary Margaret and David looked at each other, trading a relieved, overjoyed smile.

And they looked at Emma in their arms, safe and sound.

This time, because of them.

They saved her.

"Emma?" whispered Mary Margaret. "Emma, sweetie?"

"Emma?" breathed David, gently shaking her shoulder. "Come on, baby," he whispered.

But Emma's eyes remained shut, sleeping on, the faintest glow of that golden light still surrounding her as if like a blanket.

Emma.

She was so beautiful—so perfect.

Not minutes old, Emma's big, green eyes found hers for the first time. And deep within her chest, her own heart skipped a beat as she held her daughter, her princess, safe in her arms.

Time froze for a moment, Emma's eyes on hers, the two of them making a connection that she's felt for the past nine months, but never like this. A connection that she somehow knew would never be broken.

For she was going to love this little girl, forever.

Her little girl.

A shaky smile slipped over her lips.

And for just that moment, it nearly made her forget about everything else.

The incoming Curse.

Regina.

The wardrobe, that had only been finished minutes before Emma had entered the world.

The wardrobe, that only took one.

Even days after they learned that fact, that she would need to leave David, that it would be her and Emma on their own for twenty-eight years in a land that no one here had even heard of…

She looked at David, whose eyes were on his baby girl, tears in them as Emma's little fingers tentatively grabbed his own. And when they did, this little smile, like dawn breaking through night, was on her little perfect lips, and a tear spilled down David's cheek. A beautiful joy and a horrible sadness in his face, watching her, knowing he wouldn't be able to watch her grow up.

Something that broke her own heart.

But she looked down at Emma, whose eyes were still on hers, so innocent, like someone who had been lost for ages, yet had finally found what she was looking for, and couldn't stand to look away.

And she, herself, knew the feeling.

It was when a shockwave that shook the very air, followed by Grumpy's terrified, distant shout of, "IT'S HERE!" that she felt her gaze torn from her daughter, her eyes snapping to David's, and she felt herself pull Emma instinctively closer to her heart.

"The Curse," breathed David, panic in his eyes. "Snow, we have to get you both to that wardrobe. Now." A shaky smile. "You'll find me. Like we always do."

But she felt her heart freeze.

Both.

Emma had been born early.

She and Emma were no longer one.

Utter cold trailed through her, numbing everything it touched.

Panic unlike anything she's ever experienced raced through her.

"David," she whispered, the words so reluctant they hurt to speak, "the wardrobe. It only takes… one."

And it was like watching glass break, right beside her, as the realization shattered the only hope they had.

He looked down at Emma, who was starting to understand something was wrong. Her big eyes were looking between them both, her little fingers reaching toward David, more adamantly, and a tear falling down his cheek, he gave her his other hand, too, looking at her with even more sadness. "Then our plan has failed," he whispered. A sad smile at Emma, his baby girl, he said brokenly, "At least we're together."

She felt herself look down at her daughter, a tear falling down her own cheek.

If she didn't take Emma through the wardrobe, if she didn't protect her from the Curse, then they would all be taken to this… this horrible land, this land of no happy endings.

This land, where Regina's memories were bound to be unaffected.

A flash of horror struck her heart like lightning.

If Emma was Regina's only threat…

Would Emma even be safe with them?

The thundering clouds of the Curse were getting louder, the sky darkening with a greenish purple hue, casting a horrible shadow over the room.

She felt herself lift her head, an idea striking her through her panic.

But even with the idea, came something even more horrifying.

She had never intended to be away from Emma.

She had intended to be with her.

Always.

More tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she was hugging Emma closer to her, as if just her hold could keep her safe… and why couldn't that be enough?

But time was running out, and there was only one way to guarantee that Emma would be safe.

That Emma will find them one day.

Even if they won't…

Even if they won't watch her grow up.

She felt her eyes fall to her baby girl.

Her Emma.

All the months of decorating her nursery, wondering which toy will be her favorite.

Of wondering which of her old gowns would Emma wear to her first ball.

Of the first time her daughter calls her "Mom."

More tears were falling down her cheeks.

But she shut her eyes, trying to stop the tears.

Emma will find them, will save them, and they will be together again.

It was what their family did.

So swallowing the agony twisting her heart, she looked at her husband. "No," she whispered, voice panicked and laced with pain that no potion, no spell, no True Love's Kiss could ever heal. "You have to take her," she breathed, seeing David's eyes snap to her in shock. "Take her to the wardrobe," she whispered, even as her voice choked.

David's eyes shot wide. "Are you out of your mind!?" He looked from where Emma was still holding tight to his finger, and then back to her, his eyes even wider with the idea.

His horror was the same one in her heart, the same one tightening her grip around her baby, knowing she'll never be able to hold her like this again. "It's the only way," she broke out. "You have to send her through."

"You don't know what you're saying," breathed David. "This… this is our child, Snow! We can't…" He looked at her, another tear falling down his cheek.

"No, we must," she choked out, just barely stopping a sob. "We have to believe that she'll be safe there, that she'll come back for us." This time, she couldn't stop the sob, looking down at her baby girl wrapped in her arms. "We have to give her her best chance."

David held her gaze, everything in him wanting to fight it.

But they had no idea where they were going.

The only thing they knew was that this wardrobe would protect Emma from their own fate.

The thundering was growing louder, the purple smoke beginning to seep into the room.

David, looking nothing short of broken, seemed to make his decision.

And gently, he kissed Emma over her forehead, shutting his eyes.

She felt herself look back at Emma when he pulled back.

And again, Emma's green eyes were on hers.

And she felt a snap in her own chest, her heart breaking.

But she kissed Emma, right over David had, and she whispered, "I love you, Emma." She held her baby's gaze, something she could have held forever. But her own brows creased, more tears falling down her face, and she whispered, "I will see you again."

Emma just held that gaze, those big eyes, clear windows to her heart.

And she felt herself shut her eyes, and David took her from her arms. The urge to fight, to hold her, to keep her in her arms, was blinding, and she couldn't help the sob when she felt him lift her away, until she couldn't feel her anymore.

And Emma began to cry.

She felt her own eyes crack back open, hearing her baby's distress, those green eyes still on her, those little fingers reaching for her.

And David's own sob breaking out of his chest, he only hugged her closer to him, whispering a broken, "It's all right," to either his daughter or his wife, neither of whom believed it.

And she watched until she could no longer see Emma's eyes, until David was gone, until Emma's cries were drowned out by the thunder.

And she broke.

Sobs broke out of her, tears spilling down her face as loneliness has never felt like this. How her arms have never felt so empty, her heart never so cold.

How she missed her daughter so much it was agony, how she loved her so much, how unfair everything was, because all she wanted was Emma, was her family together.

She had once fought only for her own happiness.

But now, she would give anything, anything, to give it to her baby girl.

He drew his sword with one hand, unable to stop the tears falling down his cheeks, burning as painfully as the broken heart in his chest.

As he ran, he spared a look at his daughter.

Emma.

She was crying.

The sound of it something that made tears spill from his eyes instinctively.

She was still trying to reach for Snow.

And his heart snapped again, because a baby, his baby, his princess, this pure, innocent little beautiful person in his arms did not deserve any of this.

Because right now, no one was suffering more from this Curse than Emma.

He ran through the halls, finding the room that housed the wardrobe, panic racing through him as smoke trailed through the windows, making it harder to breathe.

But Black Guards spotted him, running to cut him off from the doors, and he felt even more fear, because he's never fought with something so precious in his arms.

The fight was unsteady, sharp and brutal, the tip of a sword cutting into his shoulder as he kept it from striking Emma. She was still crying, and he was still trying to tell her it was all right, however untrue that was, as he managed to knock out one of the Guards.

The other however, slashed his sword toward his chest, nearly again striking Emma, and with a sickness David realized they either didn't care if they killed her, or that was exactly their plan. He felt his heart lurch as he barely caught the blade with his own, it hovering inches over Emma's little face, and suddenly he was even more desperate to get Emma into that wardrobe.

Regina and her Guards didn't care that Emma was a baby.

She stood in their way; that was all they saw.

So with a furious growl for nearly taking his baby girl from him, David managed to slide his own sword through the Guard's ribs. He dropped heavily, and David held Emma close as he ran into the room, all the way to the wardrobe.

He opened the doors with shaking hands.

He stared from the waiting floor of the wardrobe, to the little girl in his arms.

She was still crying.

He bent to his knee, and he held her to his chest, shutting his eyes, trying to pour every ounce of his love into her. Hoping that it was something she could feel, that maybe her heart could remember, even if she couldn't.

She stopped crying.

Slowly, he pulled back, facing her.

Those big, green eyes were on his.

Those little fingers grasping at the edge of a tear in his sleeve because she couldn't reach his hand.

And his heart shattered all over again.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered, even as more tears fell. "Daddy loves you." And like tearing himself apart, he laid her on the floor of the wardrobe, offering his hand one more time, a sob breaking when she took his finger with a smile. "Find us," he whispered, every ounce of his need for her to find them.

His need to see her again.

His daughter.

Another sob wracked him.

But a crash behind him made him turn to see more Guards bursting into the room.

He whipped back around, giving Emma a smile, because the last thing she sees of him for now should be his love.

But at the release of his finger from hers, tears brimmed in her own eyes, and David felt his chest ache knowing the last thing he'll see of her for twenty-eight years will be her sadness.

And his eyes on hers, he shut the doors, feeling a coldness sweep through him, a sharp pain in his chest, a hole in his heart that he knew wouldn't be filled for twenty-eight years.

A hole he knew he wouldn't be able to live with until he saw her again.

But it was when the sword sliced through his abdomen that he was shocked back to the chaos of the moment.

He felt the agony shock through him, sharp and horrible.

But it was nothing compared to the agony of letting her go.

He felt himself fall, felt the blood staining his skin, his clothes, the floor that would have been her home.

He watched the Guards tear open the wardrobe, to find it empty.

And he smiled.

Because she was safe.

"Emma," he whispered, so much in her name alone, hoping wherever she was, she could hear him.

That wherever she was, she will always know how much they love her.

Emma woke slowly.

Consciousness took its time, like she was rising to the surface of mud, still caught in the heaviness of the dream.

The dream that felt so vivid, as real as a memory.

A dream of a scene that felt so familiar, that with shock, Emma realized was a story she knew, like a bedtime story that had never given her sweet dreams.

The same story that had been in Henry's storybook.

Her story.

She found herself picturing the baby in the dream—Emma.

Her.

She'd dreamed about… herself?

And she's seen that castle before, that room. Not only in Henry's storybook.

Except the last time she'd seen it… it was destroyed.

Though, for as much as it was her dream…

…she wasn't seeing it… as herself.

It was as if she was dreaming of someone else's memories.

As sounds crescendoed in her ears, her mind caught between unconsciousness and waking, hearing voices she couldn't yet make out, her mind was racing, putting together the pieces—

It was almost as if she had been seeing through… her parents.

She dreamed she was Snow—Mary Margaret—her mother, the day she and David had abandoned her, and it had looked exactly as it did in Henry's storybook.

However, Emma didn't just see it in her dream.

She… felt it.

In her dream, Emma had felt their fear, their panic at the prospect of losing her.

The Curse was coming, the wardrobe had just been completed, and Emma had just been born.

But her dream changed the story she knew.

Within Snow's thoughts was the devastation that she would no longer be able to travel with her to the new world. The idea that Emma and Snow would go together had been the only reason that her parents had even considered such a plan.

That hadn't been in Henry's storybook.

But more than feeling their fear of sending her away, Emma felt something she'd never felt before.

She felt their love.

Snow had hugged her baby—Emma herself—so tight, her hold felt so warm, their connection, minutes old, already so strong. Emma had seen her own eyes watching Snow's, reflecting that love.

And it wasn't only Snow the dream had shown her, either.

It was… David.

The look on his face when Emma had grabbed his finger for the first time.

The way he'd held her, protected her, like there was nothing in the world more precious to him.

The way he'd nearly died sending her through the wardrobe.

"Daddy loves you."

She'd heard those words before, but they had never been spoken to her. They were always gifted to other kids, kids who'd had fathers to love them.

She could still hear the echo of his voice, and a feeling of such warmth ran through her.

His relief that she was safe had nearly washed away the pain of his injury.

But even that wasn't enough to cure the agony of letting her go.

The heartbreak of both David and Snow, over her.

It was like a physical snap in her chest.

To let her go tore them apart.

She's never once dreamed like that before.

She's never once had a dream that felt so real before—except, except the one she had in Neverland, the one from the foster home, when she'd wished on yet another broken star.

Any dreams of her parents were never… never so vivid, and never like… that.

Even after the Curse in Storybrooke was broken, even after learning that it was all true, even after Henry told her the true story of her abandonment…

She had never dreamed of it.

And would certainly have never dreamed of it like that.

How it was told to her seemed like they left her out of obligation to their Kingdom, to their people. Like they looked at her as some object, just something to save them.

But that dream…

It felt more like their obligation to her, the best choice they felt they could make within the minutes to make a decision.

And there was something else in that dream Emma had never felt before.

A parents' love.

How could her subconscious even fabricate such a feeling?

All the times she'd spent imagining what it would feel like to have parents who loved her, and none of it came close to how it had felt in her dream.

It was everything she'd ever dreamed of, to have parents to feel such a way about her. It was so warm, so safe.

All that love, in both David and Snow, was for her.

And it terrified her, because she was awake enough to know it was only a dream, and she didn't know if she could handle facing a reality without it.

And she never thought she could have felt jealous of her own imagination's manifestation, of that baby in her mother and father's arms. She never could have thought she'd be envious that she didn't know what that baby felt, to experience that hold, that love, for real, even for only a moment.

Sounds crescendoed in her ears as she rose closer to wakefulness. She felt herself try to fight it, try to hold onto the feelings from her dream like grasping onto a slippery rope that was tied to everything she's ever wanted.

But, suddenly, she could feel something around her.

Something warm, something comforting, something so familiar.

"Emma?!"

"Emma!"

Two voices broke through, worn like they'd been saying her name for some time.

And Emma realized she knew them.

They sounded just as afraid as they had been in her dream.

She felt her eyes open, shocking her back into vivid clarity.

"Emma!"

Emma blinked at the harmonized, relieved gasp of her name.

And she found herself looking up at Mary Margaret and David.

They both had tears on their cheeks, but smiles at their lips, looking down at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

But that wasn't all.

That wasn't what felt so familiar.

Emma felt her heart skip.

She was in their arms.

Emma was held so gently, so carefully between them, as if they thought she'd break, as if they couldn't take the chance she would.

And Emma felt herself fall still, with the shock of a realization.

The way Mary Margaret was holding her now.

Pulled up so close to her chest, to her heart. Her arms around her so tight and strong, like her arms alone could keep Emma safe from anything, and it even felt, to Emma, like they could.

A hold that felt so…

Familiar.

So much so that she suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Emma?" asked David suddenly, both their smiles fading at Emma's stillness. "Are you okay?"

"Emma?" whispered Mary Margaret.

Emma's eyes found Mary Margaret's, and settled there.

Just… looking.

And she felt Mary Margaret freeze, holding her gaze, like she felt the sudden connection the same way Emma did. Like just the look in Emma's eyes held unsaid words in a language only Mary Margaret could understand.

And Emma knew.

Whatever she had just experienced, it wasn't a dream.

Mary Margaret's hold, the look in her eyes now…

It was the same as the one in her dream, reflected in the baby's eyes—her eyes.

It was no dream.

Somehow, it was real.

And it wasn't Mary Margaret she was looking at now.

It was her mother.

Emma felt tears brim her eyes, still looking at Mary Margaret.

Her mother.

"Mom," whispered Emma suddenly, her whisper so loud, so musical in the silence.

Mary Margaret's gasp was mirrored by David, both of whom were looking at her in shock.

Emma smiled wider, because nothing has ever felt more right. "Mom," she repeated, making herself smile wider, liking the way it rolled off her tongue, the way it made her heart feel warm, the way the word itself felt like a tight hug.

A little hiccuped sob broke out of Mary Margaret's chest, with a smile as bright as sunlight off her namesake.

And Emma looked at David, her eyes meeting his.

But it wasn't David she was looking at.

It was her father.

David stared at her, caught in shock and awe, a fresh tear falling down his cheek.

Emma's eyes found his hand, the warmth of a memory she somehow didn't need the dream to remember moving her own hand.

He watched as she slowly, hesitantly, wrapped her fingers around his.

And such a warmth spread through her, because she's done this before.

David stared in shock.

And she smiled at him, lifting her eyes back to his, that same feeling so something so right in her chest as she whispered, "Dad."

A gasped sob broke out of his own chest, like she'd just said what he'd waited his life to hear. Another tear falling down his cheek, a smile so bright on his face, happier than Emma's ever seen him.

It was a joy that all three of them felt together, a moment they had all shared before.

Twenty-eight years ago.

Emma just smiled more, a tear falling down her own face, and it was all it took for her parents to gather her into their arms even tighter, pulling her to them, wrapping her between them in a hug that felt so perfect, that felt like she fit.

"Emma," gasped out her mother over her shoulder, holding her even tighter. "I'm so sorry." Her tears hit Emma's shoulder. "I am so sorry," she choked out. "When we… when we s-sent you away, we—we never knew how—how horrible—" Her voice broke.

"Emma," David took over, voice just as broken, holding her even tighter. "We never meant to hurt you, and—and we should have known how much you went through and—and…" His voice caught. "Emma, baby, we're so sorry."

And Emma felt tears rush down her cheeks, never feeling so loved, so cared for.

"I forgive you," she whispered, a shaky smile at her lips, because she did.

She didn't want to care about the past anymore.

She didn't want them to hurt anymore.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

She just wanted them, and she just wanted to be theirs.

They both pulled back at her words, looking at her with unadulterated, desperate hope.

"You do?" breathed her mother, looking so fragile, as if the gentlest breeze could shatter her.

"Yes," she said softly, meaning it, watching those broken smiles return to her parents, however stunned those smiles were. Emma let out a breath, saying, "I was so angry, and so… confused, my whole life." Their smiles faded a little, a haunted look in their eyes, like they didn't just sympathize; they understood. "And when I met you," she went on softly, "it just felt like… I was just your… savior."

It was as if Emma could see their hearts break in their eyes.

"But," she whispered, "I just… I had this… dream." She looked at them, seeing something stunned replace their guilt. "It was of… us. Right after I was born. But… it felt like it was a… memory somehow." Her eyes shut, those feelings still so vivid, so strong. She opened her eyes even as a tear fell down her cheek. "It was like… I was you," she whispered to them both.

Both of their eyes widened.

"It was the night I was…" Emma couldn't say the words, but her parents heard them nonetheless, if the flash of pain in their eyes was any indicator. Emma's eyes settled on Mary Margaret. "You were supposed to go with me," she whispered.

Mary Margaret's face creased, another tear falling for twenty-eight years of what almost was. "I wish I could have," she broke out.

What had seemed like she had simply been planned, been had to save them, was wrong.

The realization felt so much softer than what she'd believed for so long.

That they had only done what they felt was right in a horrible, impossible situation.

"We… we had a dream, too," began David hesitantly, exchanging a look with Mary Margaret, brows creased with pain. "Of… well, as you," he whispered.

Emma froze.

"You were in this foster home," said Mary Margaret unsteadily. "You… you were wishing… for us," she breathed.

It was the same dream that she'd just re-lived.

The first night she lost hope.

The first night she realized that the stars were either broken, or simply didn't listen to her.

Emma looked at her parents, seeing the pain in their eyes.

The understanding.

Everything she'd tried to tell them was in their expressions now.

But Emma just felt herself smile, a warm tear falling down her cheek as she whispered, "It came true."

The look on their faces could have melted ice.

But that haunted look still in their eyes, Mary Margaret whispered, "We're so sorry, Emma."

But Emma shook her head, giving them a broken smile of her own. "It's okay," she said softly, watching as a relief dawned over them every time she spoke her forgiveness of them. "When I… when I dreamed of you both… as you both…" Her faint smile grew. "I could feel…" Her eyes filled with tears. "You loved me." A little choked laugh eased from her chest. Because she's never, not once, felt that before. Parents. Who loved her.

They both pulled her back into their arms.

"We always have," whispered Mary Margaret, voice shaky with emotion, and Emma smiled even more because she felt the truth.

"We always will." breathed David over her other shoulder, his hand running over her hair.

"We love you so much, Emma," whispered Mary Margaret.

And Emma felt that warmth fill her even more, as she hugged them back and whispered, "I love you, too."

They both pulled back in even more them both return it, their happiness like a physical light. "We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you, angel," whispered David, wiping Emma's tears away.

"We promise," added her mother. She looked at Emma, like she couldn't believe the moment they were in. She hugged her again. "Oh, Emma, we are just so relieved you're all right."

Emma felt her brows crease at her mother's relief in confusion. Her mind had been so caught up in the dream, the moment.

It was only then, she remembered where they were.

Neverland.

Pan.

Pan had been holding Mary Margaret and David hostage, he'd gone to attack them, but then had changed his target to her—

—she couldn't get her magic to protect her fast enough and—

That was the last thing she remembered.

She pulled sharply back from Mary Margaret, eyes finding the cave, breaking her out of what had been so much happiness. Reality rushed in like a sharp winter wind in summer. "Wait—" she gasped. "Pan—"

"He's gone," said David quickly, with a relieved smile at the fact, and Emma felt her own panic begin to ease.

"How?" she breathed.

"Well," said Mary Margaret, exchanging a look with David, "Pan… attacked you, but he used the last of his own magic. He began to take the magic of that Neverland flame, and we… convinced the Lost Boys to free us." Her brows creased. "But by the time we were free…"

"He already attacked," whispered David, his own brows kneaded with the panic they must have felt.

Emma felt her heart skip a beat.

"But…" said Mary Margaret, smiling through a wince. "David and I… we ran to… protect you."

Emma's eyes widened.

"But… something happened," said David. "We had just gotten to you, and the attack was about to hit us, but… it… stopped," he said, puzzlement clear in his voice.

"It what?" breathed Emma.

"It felt like some sort of magic," said Mary Margaret. "It… protected us, and Pan's attack instead hit him."

But Emma was still hung up on their insinuation.

Looking at them with her own awe, she said, "You were going to take that attack for me?" she whispered. "You were going to… to die for me?" Her voice was barely audible.

Mary Margaret and David smiled a little at each other, before smiling even wider at her. "We meant it, Emma," said Mary Margaret softly. "We will never let anything happen to you again. You might be a savior," she said, "but from now on, we will be yours."

"Always," added David softly.

Emma felt herself smile, tears falling again down her cheeks.

Emma felt herself let out a shaky breath.

It was over.

They were all safe.

But that made her suddenly realize something was missing.

Someone.

She jerked up.

"Killian," she breathed, voice laced with panic.

Her whole body ran cold.

How could she have—

"Where's Killian?!" exclaimed Emma, voice cracking with fear.

Both David and Mary Margaret's eyes widened.

"He—Pan attacked him," breathed David.

"He was knocked unconscious—" said Mary Margaret through a gasp as both of them quickly moved to get up.

Emma was stumbling to her feet, eyes scanning the room in a panic.

There.

Across the cave lay Killian, crumpled beneath his black leather.

Her heart stopped.

"KILLIAN!" Emma nearly screamed, running to him. She dropped to her knees at his side, her trembling hands on him, shaking him a little. "Killian? Killian!"

But at her touch, he winced, and it was the most beautiful thing Emma had ever seen.

"Killian," she breathed, a shaky smile at her lips, seeing him move, seeing him alive.

At her voice, his eyes snapped open. "Em—" he cringed, his hand finding his side, and Emma wondered how many times someone could break the same ribs over and over. "Emma?" he breathed, his own voice panicked as he struggled to find her.

The moment he saw her, relief broke out over his features, "Emma!" She smiled, and he shot off the ground, despite a heavy cringe and a groan he caught with his teeth, grabbing her in a tight hug, pulling her into his chest, into an embrace that made her eyes shut, tears stinging them. She hugged him back just as tightly, a brand new sense of warmth rushing through her, like a magic of its own.

"Are you okay?" she whispered over his shoulder.

"Aye," he breathed. "You?" "Yeah," she whispered through a smile, snuggling her head into his shoulder, nearly collapsing into him, into the relief that they were all safe, they did it, they were okay.

But Killian suddenly pulled back, looking around with fear. "Is Pan—"

"He's gone," said David, firm and relieved.

"What?" breathed Killian. "How?"

"We're… not sure," said Mary Margaret, looking from David, back to Killian. "Pan sent an attack at Emma—" Emma felt Killian's hold around her tighten, pulling her even closer to him— "and David and I made it to her in time, but something happened when we did," said Mary Margaret. "Some kind of magic saved us, but it wasn't Emma's. It sent Pan's attack back at him, and he was destroyed."

Killian stared at her in utter shock. But he let out a weary sigh of relief, holding Emma to him even tighter. "Thank the bloody gods," he whispered.

Emma smiled, feeling waves of relief trailing through her from his embrace, feeling safer than she's ever felt before.

"I'm relieved you both are all right," added Killian to David and Mary Margaret.

David smiled. "And we're relieved you are." His brows kneaded a little. "Pan got you good… you sure you're all right?"

Killian smiled, dismissing the concern, but Emma could see how hard he was trying to keep the wince out of his face. "Aye," he said. "A few bruises, I'm sure, but I'll be all right."

Emma slowly helped Killian to his feet. He couldn't hide the cringe, even having to take his hand from hers to grab at his ribs. Emma's brows creased. "I can try to heal that," she said softly.

"Let's get home to that boy of yours first, aye?" said Killian, wince easing.

Emma felt a warm skip in her chest at the thought of Henry.

"Did you…"

They all turned to see the little group of Lost Boys standing behind them, staring at them with painfully hopeful eyes that were braced for a disappointment they didn't seem like they could take.

The littlest one had spoken, and he finished, "Did you mean what you said?" He spoke the words to Mary Margaret and David, voice small. "Will you still take us with you?"

Mary Margaret knelt to his level, smiling. "Of course," she said softly.

But Emma felt Killian's uncertainty before he even voiced it. "The only problem," he said reluctantly, "is how we're getting back to Storybrooke."

"I know how."

They all looked at another Boy, who looked about Henry's age. "I saw how Baelfire did it," said the Boy, making Emma and Killian both suddenly flinch at the name. "He used his Shadow and pixie dust. I dunno how to take off Shadows… But—but we could use one of your Shadows, and…" He looked at Emma. "I think your magic could work."

Emma blinked. With a little of that bravery that got her here, she smiled, nodding. And with it, something flared in her chest a little, like her magic ensuring her she could trust it to lead them home.

The Boy smiled something hesitant, but hope rippled through them all like a pebble skipping water.

"I can get the flint to separate a Shadow," said a Boy. "I saw'd Pan do it before."

"We can use mine," offered Killian, with a little reassuring smile to the Boy, who seemed surprised to see kindness from him. "We can attach it to my sail; get us home."

Emma felt herself smile.

Home.

"Get us that flint," said Killian gently to the Boys, "and find us on my ship, aye?"

The Boys let out shaky smiles, at the idea, the hope that they were actually going to be free.

They all but ran out of the cave to find the flint, only one Boy, the littlest, pausing by Mary Margaret.

"Don't leave without us," he whispered.

She smiled at him. "We won't. I promise." She spoke the words to the Boy, but her eyes were on Emma.

And after a second, the Boy smiled, and then bounded after his brothers.

"Wait—" said David, looking at Emma and Killian, eyes darkening. "Speaking of Neal, where the hell is he?" A little anger building— "He took some deal of Pan's to get you here—"

Emma exchanged a look with Killian, both of them holding each other a little tighter.

And Emma cleared her throat. "Neal…" she stumbled a little over his name. "Neal did find us," she said softly. "But… he didn't take Pan's deal."

"What?" breathed Mary Margaret, and David's brows lifted.

"He warned us," said Emma, eyes burning a little, "about what Pan did, taking you both. He told us not to go."

"He did?" said David with surprise.

Emma swallowed. "But… a Lost Boy followed him when he found us, and…" Her voice trailed off, her throat closing up.

Killian finished for her, "He took an arrow that would have killed me."

At their heavy silence, Mary Margaret and David caught onto what they didn't say.

"He's… dead?" whispered David.

Emma's eyes burning, she nodded.

"He died saving Killian?" breathed Mary Margaret in shock.

Emma nodded, unable to speak.

The four of them were caught in a moment of silence, of touched sadness. Something Emma hasn't quite processed yet, but chose to, for now, smile, because Neal had died for her happiness.

But, tears in her own eyes, Mary Margaret took a step closer to Emma, brushing the hair out of her face in such a tender touch, one that made Emma smile. "He told us," she whispered, "that he would do anything to make it up to you." Her own smile touched her lips. "It looks like he did." She took a breath, exchanging a look with David before settling her eyes back on Emma. "And… we know the feeling."

Emma smiled.

Her parents and Killian all nearly died for her happiness, and Neal had.

It was something she'd never experienced before—something she never thought she would experience.

To go from a life where no one cared, to a life where everyone did.

Emma felt her eyes burn, but the heat wasn't a painful one. She smiled, her gaze on her Mary Margaret and David. Her parents. Her parents. Ever since that dream, that memory, she could feel that familiarity. She could feel the love.

They were her parents, and they actually felt like her parents.

"Mom." she felt herself whisper, seeing a sparkle in Mary Margaret's eyes at the title. "Dad," she whispered, looking at David, whose own eyes were suddenly mistier. And from her side, Emma could just see Killian's brows shoot up in surprise.

"Emma," they both whispered at once, voices like harmonies of their True Love, and they both pulled Emma into a hug, one that made her shut her eyes and she reciprocated it, hugging them just as tightly as they held her. She felt two tears hit her shoulder.

But her eyes opened, finding Killian standing beside the three of them, a smile on his face, but a catch in his eyes, like he didn't know his place.

But before Emma could do anything, Mary Margaret reached out and took Killian's arm, pulling him into the embrace with them. At which David rolled his eyes, but moved to pat the pirate on the back, the men meeting eyes genuinely. Emma felt Killian wrap his arm around her waist, and she shut her eyes.

This feeling…

It was something Emma had never thought she'd have.

A family.

It made a tear roll down her cheek, like a drop of rain on dry land.

But this family was missing one member, whom Emma knew was very eager for them all to be with him again.

So she pulled back, three sets of eyes on her, and she said softly, "Let's go home."

-.-.-.

a/n: about 2 chapters left of this one! <3

-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @killian-whump

[citric-sundown]

It's obama! And the two lovers hate each others guts.

And it's obama's diplomatic duty to get them on speaking terms over and over again. because for some unholy reason, they always end up as the leaders of two major countries, while obama the diplomat of a smaller country, smack in the middle of both of them.

"My lord, please...without access to the freshwater from their river, we cannot sustain our crops. These crops are the primary source for our linen, which we export to your markets. Please reconsider your plan of biochemical warfare upon their River Syeth. We cannot afford to lose this export, and neither can your economy." Obama pleaded. His eyes were dim and cast a long shadow down his cheeks. He faintly thought of Michelle.

"Nonsense! Did you not see the way they treated me at the so-called diplomatic feast two seasons ago?" Claud'n roared. His many scarves and linens of all types flared in anger as he gesticulated his fork. "They flicked their <i>fork</i> at my head! That's a clear sign as any." The fork was slammed down, and Obama flinched at the clunking silverware. Nothing more came of the dinner with Claud'n.

----------------

That night, Obama couldn't bear going home. Instead, he stood out in the garden his daughters had planted some years ago, and stared up at the window where Michelle's silhouette could be seen through the white drapes. She was hunched over at her desk, rapidly typing into her computer or scrawling into some paperwork. No doubt it was the project she had been so excited about.

"It could revolutionize the STAND program! We could provide real, fulfilling work to people and give them a second chance at life. Simultaneously, it'll help the linen export quotas of the top producers as well as smaller businesses, and with everyone under a single umbrella, it'll be easier to provide them with better educational resources." Michelle shined.

Obama had smiled back, before he knew what would happen then.

And out to the garden, she had spoken into the wind, "...It would help our people, for good. For generations to come."

------------------

The next dreaded day was a luncheon with Seth, who was equally and unusually choleric about Claud'n. One had to wonder how they managed to build up so much bad blood, when they had barely met each other.

"How is your family?" Seth curtly asked with their usual decorum.

"They're doing wonderfully. My daughters seem to have found passions they're sticking to, and they make good use of the gardening tools you gifted them."

"I'm glad to hear that. I was worried it hadn't been a good gift. And your wife?" Seth dabbed a napkin at their mouth after polishing off a small sandwich.

"Michelle is..." Obama set his fork down.

Seth looked up with sharp eyes. Inquisitive and observant as always. Obama prayed his appeal with his family would go through.

"She's excited about new plans in the linen industry to bring in new jobs and organize educational plans for the workers' families."

Despite the sun shining through closed windows and the warmth of the wood, the room felt cold. A moment of eternity passed.

"Yes, that would help your economy and produce an increased volume of export to –" Seth turned to a butler and waved their hand for tea. "– Claud'n."

The butler came in with a teapot and a small plate of assorted macarons. His daughters and Michelle would adore these.

Seth continued, seemingly unaffected. "And your linen production relies on water flow from our River Syeth as well as the coals from their caves in Cha-Eh mountain."

Seth poured out two cups of tea gracefully. They sipped from their cups.

"Cha-Eh mountain, which I had plans for to rehabilitate an invasive species of particularly testy and overgrown lizards." Seth leaned back in his chair. They were almost drawling, but not quite, like a teenager testing the waters with a new strict homeroom teacher.

"The rehabilitation program is...well thought of, as they would thrive there. But they would make the caves their primary residences and drive the miners out." Perspiration beaded down on Obama's straight back, as he sat at attention.

"Indeed." Seth languidly picked up a macaron with two manicured fingers, examined its edges, and set it down on the edge of the saucer.

No matter how hard Obama tried to steer the conversation back, Seth pointedly ignored his efforts. Nothing more came of the luncheon with Seth.

----------------------

something something

meeting room sex with obama watching guard

something something

threesome

something something

i'm going to hell why did i write this

Two lovers have reincarnated throughout history, destined to find each other and fall in love all over again. There’s also this third guy that reincarnates alongside them… we don’t really know what he does.

[neustartpsychiatry]

Success Stories: How TMS Changed Lives in Salem

Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) has emerged as a transformative treatment for individuals struggling with mental health conditions, particularly depression and anxiety. As more Salem residents seek alternative solutions for their mental health challenges, TMS is becoming a beacon of hope for many. In this blog post, we will share inspiring success stories from individuals in Salem whose lives have been changed by TMS, highlighting the profound impact this innovative treatment can have on mental well-being.

The Journey to Recovery

1. Sarah's Story: From Hopelessness to Renewal

Sarah, a 34-year-old teacher, had battled depression for over a decade. After trying various medications and therapies without success, she felt hopeless and was ready to give up. On the recommendation of a friend, Sarah decided to explore TMS at Neustart Psychiatry & TMS in Salem.

After her first few sessions, Sarah began to notice a change. The cloud of depression that had overshadowed her life started to lift. “It was like someone had turned on a light in my brain,” she recalled. Over the course of her treatment, Sarah experienced fewer mood swings and greater energy levels, allowing her to return to activities she had once loved, like hiking and painting.

Today, Sarah advocates for mental health awareness and shares her story with others, encouraging them to consider TMS as a viable treatment option. “Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation Salem saved my life. I finally feel like myself again,” she says with a smile.

2. Mark's Experience: Breaking Free from Anxiety

Mark, a 45-year-old software developer, had struggled with severe anxiety for years, which affected his work and personal life. Traditional therapy and medications provided little relief, leaving him frustrated and isolated. When he learned about TMS, he decided to give it a try.

From the first session, Mark felt a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced in years. As the treatments progressed, he noticed a significant reduction in his anxiety levels. “I could finally think clearly without the constant worry,” he said.

Mark’s success with Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation Salem enabled him to re-engage with his family and friends, and he even started a new project at work that he had previously avoided due to his anxiety. “TMS opened doors for me that I thought were closed forever,” Mark explains. He now advocates for mental health treatment options and encourages others to explore TMS for their anxiety and depression.

3. Jessica's Journey: Overcoming Resistance

Jessica, a 28-year-old marketing professional, had been skeptical about TMS after hearing mixed reviews online. However, after years of feeling trapped in a cycle of depression, she decided to consult with the professionals at Neustart Psychiatry & TMS.

During her initial consultation, the team addressed all her concerns and provided comprehensive information about the treatment process. With their support, Jessica began her TMS journey. The changes were gradual but profound; she began to notice small shifts in her mood and outlook. “It was like waking up from a long sleep,” Jessica shared.

With continued TMS treatments, Jessica found herself more motivated and engaged in her life. She rekindled her passion for photography and even started a blog to document her experiences with mental health. “I want others to know that there’s hope and that TMS can be a game changer,” she stated. Jessica’s journey is a testament to the power of overcoming skepticism and embracing new treatment options.

4. Tom's Transformation: A Second Chance

Tom, a 50-year-old father of three, had battled depression for years, feeling disconnected from his family and responsibilities. His mental health struggles escalated after losing his job, leading to feelings of worthlessness and despair. Traditional treatments had little effect, and he was losing hope when a friend suggested he try TMS.

At first, Tom was hesitant, but he decided to explore the possibility. After just a few sessions, he began to experience a noticeable change in his mood and outlook. “It was like I was seeing color for the first time,” Tom expressed. With renewed energy, he reconnected with his family and even landed a new job that he loves.

Tom now shares his story with others in his community, emphasizing the importance of seeking help and exploring all available treatment options. “TMS gave me a second chance at life and a better relationship with my family,” he proudly states.

Why TMS Works

The success stories from Salem residents highlight the transformative potential of TMS in addressing mental health issues. Here are some key reasons why TMS has proven effective for many individuals:

Targeted Treatment: TMS specifically targets areas of the brain associated with mood regulation, providing a more focused approach than traditional therapies.

Non-Invasive and Safe: TMS is a non-invasive procedure with minimal side effects, making it an attractive option for those who have not found relief with medications or other treatments.

Quick Results: Many patients report noticeable improvements in mood and well-being within a few weeks of starting TMS treatment.

Complementary Approach: TMS can be used alongside traditional therapies, enhancing overall treatment effectiveness for many individuals.

Conclusion

The inspiring success stories of Salem residents illustrate the life-changing effects of Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. For individuals struggling with depression, anxiety, or other mental health conditions, TMS offers hope and a new path toward healing.

If you or someone you know is considering TMS, reach out to Neustart Psychiatry & TMS for a consultation. They can help you explore whether TMS is the right fit for your mental health journey. Remember, change is possible, and with the right support, you can reclaim your life and well-being.

[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (10)

Word Count: 11,267 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack, meltdown, blackmail, gun, abuse), toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: Thank you for waiting so long! Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter if you want to. Enjoy! - 🐰

The distant sound of television in your living room.

‘We bring breaking news…Kim Namjoon, the heir of…yesterday morning…in questioning…accessory of the crime…kidnapping and killing of pregnant fiancée…found motive…’

The splatter of blood on his skin, the taste of blood on your tongue. Your whole world melts into a puddle of red. You feel him inside you, around your throat, his grip tightening, his kisses searing against your lips to pin your tongue underneath his.

A whisper against your ear.

‘You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, noona.’

You wake up with a start, gasping for air as you reach over to where Jungkook should be only to be met with a gray rabbit plushie. It has been a week since the night your life changed. Whether for the best or the worse, you can’t tell just yet. You rub a hand over your stomach where you’re cramping, taking deep breaths through your nose and exhaling through your lips to calm the panic of hearing and seeing red in your dreams once more. The brain is a relentless organ. No matter how much you force yourself to forget, to justify the past, to let your anger roam free, your dreams follow you as soon as your body succumbs to exhaustion.

Jungkook gifted you a bottle of melatonin for such nights but it was rather hard to sleep when every thought goes back to the sound of Yori’s lifeless body swallowed by the rustle of a black plastic trash bag. It’s a stark dichotomy from the images you have of her in her soft chiffon dresses, bleached hair swaying in the wind, her lithe frame moving effortlessly between the trees in your family garden. To think that you would lose her in such a way is unfathomable even when there is a sick, hideous part of you that felt almost relieved that you’re alone at last. Her existence only served as a reminder of your humiliation. 

It’s why you’d spent so many weeks and months back then cursing her – hoping she miscarry during your most vulnerable nights, hoping Namjoon would leave her for another woman so she gets a taste of how you’ve suffered; yet when the day comes when she’s truly gone, your heart and mind is restless. 

As your stomach settles, the residual guilt rising like bile up your throat gives you a newfound reason to tell yourself you’re still very much a good person. You’re still the woman Jungkook loves for your understanding and hardworking spirit. Partly feeling guilt towards her death meant you still loved her in your true, good nature – or at least you love the memory of what she used to mean to you. The girl you remembered – the girl who would make crowns for you with wildflowers, paint your sleeping form, talk about all the men she wrapped around her fingers – was long gone before you found her lying at the end of a staircase. Your mother can’t kill someone who was already dead in your eyes. 

The body your boyfriend stuffed in his freezer didn’t deserve your kindness nor repentance. It’s why you were able to waltz right into work the next morning from Jungkook’s studio, drinking the same cup of coffee at your desk, working the same files, and mentoring interns with a smile albeit the sudden panic episodes had caused you to empty your stomach after each meal.

You’ve run out of fingernails to bite. You’d expected the world to crumble and fall at your feet in the following days but everything feels oddly normal. The sun still rose. Flowers still bloomed. And Jungkook still loved you. 

Sitting at the edge of the bed, the thin sheen of sweat on your body makes the valley down your spine tingle, prompting you to reach back to scratch your skin raw. When you look over at the nightstand, the red digital numbers on your clock glare into your irises through the sleep haze – it’s barely two o’clock in the morning. With a groan, you stretch an arm towards the floor and pull Jungkook’s shirt towards your feet before bringing it to your chest. The half-buttoned cotton still smells like him. Like comfort.

When you slip the black long-sleeved shirt over your head and roll it down your body, buttoning up to cover your chest, you’re struck with the realization that tonight is the night Jungkook must finish the job. He hasn’t left your side since the accident, treating you with the utmost care, his prying eyes following your every move to the point you ended up pressing your lips against his each and every time just to cease his worries. His fingers melt like butter on your skin when he cups your jaw in search of any anxieties you might have hidden from him. It’s evident that he’s in awe and in confusion at your strength. Maybe he thought too highly of your capacity for forgiveness; like the loud saccharine-faced women you work with, you’re just a tantalizing red apple infested with rot beneath. 

And it’s with that very same façade you faced the detectives. 

The police came knocking at your door two days ago. Jungkook promptly informs you that there was nothing you need to worry about for now except keeping your composure. 

The two men explained the situation – a vague description about Yori’s disappearance, suspicion with Namjoon’s prolonged stay abroad, and odd evidence that she may be kidnapped or blackmailed – just as Jungkook predicted. You feigned passive concern as they took your statement about the last time you saw your former friend, inquired about the wedding incident, and noted the places she could be from your childhood memories. You answered every question with the calmness of an experienced storyteller, comforted when Jungkook confirmed your alibi with his hand wrapped around your fingers to keep you grounded when you trembled. A few angelic tears you shed hearing about Yori softened the mens’ heart although they didn’t have a single inkling of a different kind of fear buried inside you now that there is an investigation ongoing. 

There was something about the glimmer of their handcuffs that made you fear for Jungkook playing the role of the clueless but supportive boyfriend like a seasoned actor. The thought of the men pinning your boyfriend on the ground and ripping him away from you had you hurling digested dinner over the toilet shortly after they left. Your tears must have done much of the heavy lifting during the interrogation that even Jungkook had asked if you were feeling alright, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your cold, wet cheeks. 

You can’t live without him and if he were to be taken away from you, you wouldn’t know what to do. You’ve learned to fear his absence more than his capability for murder. Such thoughts threaten to cut the last strings of sanity holding you together. 

Despite Jungkook being there for you every step of the way, he was powerless when it comes to protecting you from the stench of office gossip that you must endure for the sake of calming suspicions about your outside activities. It was obvious what your coworkers thought of you as soon as the news came flooding about Yori’s sudden disappearance. Whether you feign concern or not, there have already been rumors about a sabotaged pregnancy. Their fake kindness and whispers gave you the freedom to look as disastrous as you feel. 

If only they knew that the true reasons for your sunken eyes and weight loss are far, far beyond their comprehension. If only they knew you were on your hands and knees scrubbing bodily fluids; the longer their mouths yapped, the more you thought about the red on your fingertips, how satisfying it felt to watch it spiral down the drain.

The first week was grueling but the second week – this week – when the voices of the two detectives, blood-filled memories, and buried dreams resurface, you’re completely cornered. Oh, how much you crave Jungkook’s touch, his gentleness, his ability to read your mind and body even more now that he’s gone to settle your debts. 

You take your cellphone resting on the nightstand next to the digital clock, place the rabbit plushie under your arm, and make your way out of the bedroom. The condo is dead silent except for the muffled cracklings of vehicles running over pebbles on the highway nearby. It’s awfully cold but the sight of the fridge makes you clench your jaw and turn towards the couch, sliding onto the padded surface when another pang of panic hits your stomach, leaving you to press your abdomen inwards with the heel of your palm. You grab your laptop from the dirty coffee table with your free hand and place it on your lap, cursing once more when your nerves refuse to ignore the coolness of the aluminum surface. You squeeze the soft fur ears of the plushie, but it doesn’t feel the same as holding onto your boyfriend’s fingers in times of need. 

It’s cold in the room, you note once more, but Yori’s body curled in Jungkook’s freezer is even colder. 

Would he let her thaw before burying her? Would he burn her somewhere in the woods? Dump her in a lake? Would he admire her beauty first and brush his fingers down her cold cheeks, feeling pitiful about the woman who humiliated you just because she was carrying a child? 

You shake your head, watching the laptop come to life. You need a distraction. Any kind of distraction to forget that your boyfriend and Yori might be alone in a room right now as if they’re on a little date.

The cramp twisting your innards isn’t caused by panic this time. It’s jealousy. 

… 

Taehyung is exhausted to the marrow of his bones. If he didn’t consider Jungkook to be his only family left, he would never have flown to South Korea on such short notice. It’s expensive to leave clients on hold when he’s spending a fortune every month lining bribery pockets. He hopes Jungkook is prepared to work without pay for the next month. Judging by how eager the younger man is to see him, he decided to cut him some slack in the end. That’s what families do. 

Right now, Taehyung is only annoyed to find out that his partner – who had already left the refrigerated room – brought his least favorite pliers when he asked her to lay the tools on the table next to the body. The pliers are black but coppered with rust and prone to slips with its slippery silicone padding resting where his gloved fingers would go. He doesn’t even know when or how he came across such an awful tool but he’ll have to make do. 

He turns back to Jungkook who is sitting on a plastic-covered stool across him on the other side of the body, brows scrunched together as he looks down at the nude woman’s slightly protruding but stiff stomach. There’s no sense of discomfort on his face; a good sign, Taehyung notes, as it has been some time since Jungkook has dealt with a body. Yet he finds himself uncomfortable when looking down at the vicious woman he’d heard an earful about. It’s not a good omen to cut open a pregnant woman, not when Jungkook has been preparing for parenthood ever since he dumped your birth control down the toilet. 

“Are you sure it’s wise to leave her alone?”

Jungkook scratches behind his ears, watching Taehyung’s fingers pry open Yori’s frozen mouth to reach her teeth. The older man places a balled cloth inside the mouth before lining the plier towards the molars, gripping the frozen teeth between the iron clamps before yanking the tool to one side. The tooth pops out with a crisp snap, leaving a deep black hole in Yori’s pale gums. Freezing her made cleaning extremely easy – Taehyung can’t help but pat himself in the back when Jungkook seemed to remember all that he’s taught him about the work. He is, however, a bit disgusted that the body was kept in the same fridge as food. Hell, even an experienced butcher like himself has some decency not to do such a thing.  

“I think it’s fine,” Jungkook murmurs, watching Taehyung’s sturdy hands yank each tooth out of her gums with razor-sharp precision. “She’s been sleeping better than the first week so I don’t think she’ll be awake by the time I get back.”

“She’s not like us,” Taehyung scolds, his baritone voice low. A puff of smoke dissipates in the cool air as he speaks. The younger man lowers his head; there should be a limit to the favors he ask for and he’d crossed professional boundaries one too many times. “It’s a big risk you’re taking.”

Jungkook juts his lower lip out like a child filled with remorse. “I know, hyung. But...I trust her and she trusts me. Or else we wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

Taehyung hums at that, finding it rather odd that a girl with a fine upbringing had the guts to do cleaning work (poorly as expected, according to Jimin showing up with the rest of his crew to spot-clean the rest).

“Trust can be an expensive thing, Jungkook.”

Desperate to appease the older man, Jungkook snaps his gloves in place and reaches over to take an electric saw in his hand, watching the silver glimmer under the lights before standing. He waits until Taehyung finishes the removal, placing the teeth neatly in a plastic cup, before lining the blades to Yori’s pale neck and quickly sawing down her esophagus. The saw groans as it hits her spine but with Taehyung’s palms pushing the saw down further, Yori’s head comes apart clean from the rest of her torso. Under the sharp blue lights her insides look tar black. Such a pretty exterior holding such ugliness inside of her, Jungkook thinks, before he shakes the thought away.

Her beauty can never be compared to you. You’re a goddess. And her? A mere insect to put back into the earth. Yori had caused you immense pain and he would see to it that she will be treated with utmost disrespect.  

“What’s your plan after this?”

Jungkook moves the woman’s hair away from her face then removes the cloth from inside her mouth. He then pushes her jaw up to cover her black gums. 

“I’m going to try to convince her to leave work for a while. Hopefully...she’ll be pregnant by then and it’ll make it easier for her to marry me.”

Taehyung nods. “Then?”

“T-Then…” Jungkook nibbles on his lower lip. Something about Taehyung’s gaze makes his insides queasy and he doesn’t know whether it’s because the older man is upset or just exhausted. With a poker face like his, with eyes that sink deeper than an eternal labyrinth, it’s difficult to tell. He settles on the most comfortable answer. “Then we’ll live like a normal family. Maybe after she gives birth we can buy a house instead and live near the sea like we used to.”

It’s not a definite answer, but it will do for now. When you regain confidence that life will continue on as it always had, it should be smooth sailing from there. Namjoon or Jin have been a threat but once the baby comes they’ll know better than to approach you again.

Taehyung’s assistant comes back into the room with a soft smile. She glances down at the decapitated woman briefly before walking towards the incinerator in the far corner. Like clockwork she appears once there is a twenty minute time limit before the room reverts back to a comfortable temperature. Jungkook’s freezer preserved the body enough that they can pull apart Yori’s limbs and burn each piece separately; the burning will be handled by her but dismemberment is intimate, a family bonding type of activity that re-establishes their brotherhood.

“Are you happy you’ll have a family soon? Does it bring you joy?”

The younger man nods, lips trembling softly as he looks down at the severed head. His cold breath fans over Yori’s eyelids. “Yes, I am. Very. It’s all I ever wanted. ”

Taehyung stares. From the scar on the left cheek to the mole under his lips, he watches Jungkook as the younger man saws through the arms, letting the frozen limbs fall to the plastic-covered floor with a rustle and blunt thud. Once all four limbs are torn apart on the floor, he lines the saw down the navel just above the slight hill of Yori’s protruding belly. Just as he moves to switch on the saw, Taehyung grips his wrist with a tightness that alarms Jungkook.

They look at each other, truly look at each other in the darkness.

“Will you ever tell her the truth?”

Jungkook jaw tightens as he holds the older man’s gaze. His fingers are going numb, not from the cold but from the grip around his wrist.

The question causes him to chuckle incredulously. One small step and everything can fall apart like a house of cards. The risk he is taking burning someone closely associated with you can pull them both back into the times when they lived like rodents; hidden from light, at risk of being poisoned every step of the way out from the ground.

When Taehyung doesn’t mirror him, he falters. “…What use will it be if we tell her? She doesn’t have to know anything about me.”

“Is it because you’re afraid she’ll be hurt or afraid she might leave if you do?”

The reaction is immediate. Jungkook’s brows come together and he lays the saw on top of the torso, releasing a harsh exhale as he desperately pushes back tears. Taehyung expected the reaction; it’s what he was aiming for in the first place. The minute he walked in the room and saw Jungkook smiling happily in the distance he knew the boy has taken his delusions too far. He’s willing to oblige with the many ridiculous requests in helping him secure you as a wife, but he’s not a hopeless romantic. He doesn’t believe in soulmates and pure, perfect love that Jungkook pines for. There is only so much luck Jungkook can depend on before you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have. With a criminal bond, the stakes have never been higher.  

The boy takes his bottom lip under his teeth. “She won’t leave me.”

“Answer the question.”

“She loves me, okay? That’s all I need.”

He peels his arm away from Taehyung and brings both hands behind his head, burying his face in between the elbows. He turns away towards the concrete wall, his temples pounding from how hard his teeth are clenched. Couldn’t Taehyung just be happy for him? Couldn’t he take time away to celebrate this victorious night?

The reality is that two people who love each other may still never truly know each other. Just like how he doesn’t know the true reason why you wanted him as you watch him from the balcony in silence all those months ago, you won’t know why he can’t tell you everything about his upbringing. There’s no doubt that you would see his lies as betrayal, perhaps even worse than what Yori did because he made you believe he worshipped the ground you walked on (and it’s the truth). If you learned that the doe-eyed boyfriend part of him is dramatized, your heart will take irreversible damage. He had shown what it meant to be in love, to have a place where you both can call home, to care for each other through sickness and crime. He can’t ruin that illusion. Not when he’s this close to taking you away from everyone you’ve ever known.  

“The fire is ready.”

He brings his arms back down to his sides and turn towards the assistant who stands with her hands clasped in front of her as she looks between him and Taehyung.

When neither of them move, she kicks opens the incinerator and releases a waft of hot air towards the thawing body. Jungkook turns back to the body and kick the limbs towards the fire. He grabs Yori’s head by the hair and tosses it towards the limbs, wondering if you would still love him if you saw him now in a grimy lab coat, reeking of frozen flesh. You most likely won’t. You most likely will be disgusted with him, your eyes might resemble his mother’s, peering at him as if you couldn’t waste one more second breathing the same air as him.

“I’m scared,” he whispers at last, walking towards the torso on the table. He places his hand over the blood-stained stomach. The baby didn’t deserve this death, he thinks, but it would have ended up as miserable as he was when he was a child.

“I don’t know how not to be scared. That’s why I…I’m doing all of this for her. It’s why I still can’t tell her everything even if we’re tied together now. But…but I’m…we’re still men, right? We’re not monsters who do this for fun. We do this to protect the people we love.”

The older man puts his hand over Jungkook’s on the cold stomach and rubs his thumb over his knuckles. The younger man relaxes a bit more now that he understands Taehyung isn’t frustrated or upset that he put them all in danger, only concerned.  

Taehyung’s life’s purpose has been to protect this boy and now it’s Jungkook’s turn to protect the woman he’d fallen for. It’s all the more cruel that the woman Jungkook believes to be his soulmate came from wealth, from prestige, from a family that may be dysfunctional but more often than not normal. It pains him that he’s willing to live the rest of his life under a façade just to keep the illusion of a perfect romance alive. If only Taehyung could have convinced him that the beautiful couples in movies aren’t real, that the men in those movies are not like them and the women in those movies are not perfect little angels he think you are.

But that’s a battle Jungkook has chosen to fight and he could do nothing but support. That’s what families do.

“We’re not monsters,” Taehyung finally speaks at last as he walks towards the limbs and crouches down to the open incinerator. He brushes his long fingers along the metal edge, letting the tips of his fingers burn pink. His deep brown eyes reflect the orange hue of the fire yet his pupils welcomed no light. “But we’re damn close.”

…

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as you gulp down the remaining ice cold water from the fridge, laying your forehead on the door handle. It’s unbearably hot and cold at once and you’re growing impatient as the minutes tick by and you’re still alone.

It doesn’t take long to bury a body, does it? Jungkook never specified what he was going to do. Maybe the reason why it’s taking too long is because he’s driving far into the woods but your heart pangs in worry at the thought of a witness catching sight of him hunched over with a shovel. He seemed confident when he left (in your sleepy haze you don’t remember clearly) that the thought went away as quickly as it came. Your boyfriend can be meticulous; there’s a high chance that he’s taking extra precautions. He probably isn’t calling because he assumes you’re still asleep. He’d tucked you in and kissed you on the forehead, only murmuring something about being back soon and bringing back breakfast.

You set the glass down in the sink and walk past the kitchen counter, halting in your steps when you find your purse laying haphazardly next to the fruit basket. It’s been there since the police came and the contents of your wallet and keys threaten to tip over into the basket. You pull the undone zipper apart, rummaging around the inside to straighten the sides until your nails click against the uncapped flash drive. It makes your insides quiver when you realize you had been opening the files when your mother called during that day and the world crumbled. Oh how blissful you would be standing here if you never picked up the call, if you let her deal with her own problems, if the guilt of her being alone and scared didn’t affect your tender heart. The worry that Seokjin had written a love letter seemed rather insignificant now that your boyfriend can be taken away in cuffs if evidence surfaces. The tabloids would have another field day for sure.

You turn towards the digital clock on the stove, noting the time once more, and grasp the flash drive in your hands before making your way towards the living room. The flash drive blinks green as you slide the silver end into your computer propped on the coffee table. The laptop will keep you sane because you know damn well if you see Namjoon’s face on the television once more you’d spiral into panic. It’s not wise to speak of his name under your roof.

It’s not wise to speak of Seokjin’s name either, but if Jungkook isn’t coming anytime soon, the least you can do is read what your old friend has to say and be rid of this little tool in case your boyfriend’s curiosity leads to a temper tantrum.

Once again, the document window reveals a ZIP folder along with an array of photo files. You extract the file first, letting it load before double clicking to pull up the document window. It’s not what you’re expecting. There’s no sweet words and no mention of Seokjin’s name on the page. The document is over two hundred pages long and still loading as you scroll down the pages. There is a case number in the middle of the first page and then several police reports from several years ago, all dated within the same year.

Busan.

Two victims.

Two suspects.

Juvenile.

With your brows furrowed, you scroll further down the file, slowly falling back down to earth from the blanket of mental exhaustion. You feel a cold breeze down the curve of your spine, your fingertips slowly coaxing the cursor downwards. Several sentences are censored or cut in the corners. The further you scroll the more you find yourself asking if Seokjin had given you the wrong flash drive or if he was pulling a vicious prank on you. It all seemed like a whirlwind of information you don’t know how to translate until you pause on a page halfway through the document.

Kim Taehyung.

The name is most definitely familiar. The second name listed in the following page, however, you recognize in entirety.  

Jeon Jungkook.

The universe must be playing a sick joke, you think, as your cursor swims around your boyfriend’s name. He would have told you about an incident big enough for a case report that spans over a hundred pages, wouldn’t he? Jungkook wouldn’t hide anything important from you, not after he had urged you to be transparent with him. Not after he had punished you for something as silly as keeping jewelry gifted by or ex or forgetting to wear a brassiere in public. Something in your gut tells you to keep scrolling despite your vision beginning to blur and the air around you becoming heavier as if you’re breathing over a pot of boiling water.

You scroll further down, lips parting as your eyes scan over the document with record speed. The Jeon family massacre, the shack in Busan, the weapons used on the bodies for both murder and disposal – everything is written in clear detail. But it’s impossible, you think, as Jungkook has never once hinted that his parents were deceased. In fact, there were several times when he welcomed the idea of you meeting his family. He wouldn’t have agreed with enthusiasm if he had to reveal the details of this case, would he?

He wouldn’t have his mother’s number saved. It doesn’t make sense and the more you wonder who that woman could be in his cell phone, the more your insides twist.

When you hit the last hundred pages the censorship worsened. Most of the pages are illegible with black boxes shadowing over sentences but you don’t need the missing sentences. The last five pages summarized the timeline of the incident and highlighted possible motives from abuse to undiagnosed mental disorders for both Jungkook and Taehyung. You’re not sure if the file is even reliable considering what you’re reading and the boyfriend you’re living with seem like two different people.

There is hardly any record about the two of them except the elementary, middle, and high school they’ve attended. The paragraphs blur together as you scroll with trembling fingers. Something about Jungkook’s instability, his codependency on Kim Taehyung, the manner in which he was released shortly after Taehyung’s escape from the facility despite facing juvenile charges for second degree murder.

Then, the details of the crime.

Jungkook couldn’t do something like that, could he? Your lungs ache as you pant, a sudden sob leading you to clasp a shaky hand over your mouth. There is no reason for you to claim this case as unreliable when Jungkook is disposing Yori’s body somewhere within the twenty mile radius. There is no reason this case is talking about another Jeon when the first thought your boyfriend had when you confessed your mother’s accident was to help with the cleaning.

This couldn’t be anyone else but Jeon Jungkook, the boyfriend who kisses you until you melt like butter in his arms and pouts whenever someone looks at you the wrong way. Despite the file in front of you, you shake your head.

“It’s not him…it can’t be him.”

Closing the file window, you take a deep breath before opening the image file next to the folder. The first few photos were of the crime scene and your blood turns cold at the disfigured corpses in the room. The room is dirty with peeling wallpaper, blood splatter, broken furniture, and schoolbooks and papers. The couple in the picture is your boyfriend’s parents, there’s no doubt about it. You can see the resemblance in what remains of his father’s face and you wonder if that’s the reason why he never felt comfortable in his skin, as he once told you during pillowtalk.

With your core tightened, bracing for the worst, you open the last image. There is Jungkook, in the flesh, pictured with a uniform and handcuffs, eyes blacker than your morning coffee. His face is littered with bruises and the corner of his lips are swollen, caked with dried blood. The purple and green bruises stretch over his eye socket, reaching far back to his temples where his hair falls. Somehow the fact that his mother had abused him didn’t register in your mind until now. It feels somewhat far away, like a distant memory that has no effect on the person he is now. But Jungkook didn’t become the sensitive and hardworking man you know now because of sheer willpower; he was forced into the role.

He did what he had to do to survive and you know deep in your heart you can’t hate him for it. You can’t justify murder, but you can’t ignore that he was desperate to leave.

You place a trembling hand over your heart and lean back into the couch.

Either way you look at it, one thing remains true. Jeon Jungkook had spun lies upon lies to be in your life. He had successfully kept you in the dark, hardly ever showing how truly dangerous he can be until the time is right. His anger has been, at times, loving and sweet. Other times, it spurred fear. He had promised you time and time again he would never hurt you. Yet, that promise holds no substance when he doesn’t practice his own standards for loyalty and truthfulness that he instilled in you.

There’s the Jungkook from Busan who showed no remorse for what he did and there’s the Jungkook who held your heels in his hands as he led you to safety from that fateful wedding night. Burying your head in your hands, you fist the roots of your hair until your scalp burned.

You’ve been sleeping with a stranger.

…

The precinct is a large, block building next to the subway station that would be invisible if it were not for the newly painted gray-blue gates set around the perimeter of the building. There is a group of photographers huddled against the gates despite the very late hours of the night, sporting the same black padded coats as they tumble over each other like penguins. When Namjoon steps out of the building and into the Mercedes parked in front of the building, the camera shutters click. Reporters shouts his name for a statement. He merely glances at the crowd before stepping into the vehicle, adjusting his coat before slamming the door shut. 

The crowd of reporters part as the vehicle makes its way down the concrete path to the streets. There are no officers in sight to control the crowd, prompting him to watch in silence as they knock on the tinted glass and the side of the car. His chauffeur would seem unbothered if not for the whiteness of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel, stepping on the gas with urgency while being careful to not anger the hungry journalists desperate for next morning’s cover story. 

He can understand Lee’s anxiety as they drive towards one of his apartments in the city with higher security. He has been in a state of paralysis ever since he landed and was immediately brought into questioning. The handcuffs at the airport wasn’t necessary, he thinks, and he’s convinced some of these cops must be journalists in disguise, blaming him for a crime he had no knowledge of. Aside from such inconveniencies, there are other problems to address such as the dent in his parents’ pocket to keep the media from prying too much into the investigation. He’d faced his father’s wrath earlier before his first shot of whiskey, and then his mother’s who cried on his shoulder as she was too relieved to see him walking freely. He doesn’t understand why people are surprised that he isn’t the culprit when there is so little evidence against him. The precinct wanted to make an example out of him, about how the rich aren’t safe from persecution; however, they fail to consider that the rich aren’t always guilty with whatever they are accused of either. It’s been an exhausting last few weeks to face the same mob of cameras before, during, and after the questioning. They must know by now that Yori’s disappearance was as surprising to him as it is for everyone else.  

There is no end to the investigation – especially when they are set on finding evidence that it was premeditated - and his exhaustion reached its peak this morning when he realizes today was the day the baby is due. Yori wasn’t fond of motherhood – unbeknownst to outsiders who only saw her poised nature – and neither was he. But he had made an oath that he would be there for the child at least financially if not emotionally and would provide the necessities while he legalize their marriage and transfer abroad for work. He swore to not touch a single drop of alcohol when the first cry of his child reaches his ears yet here he is, pouring himself a drink from the mini fridge assembled between the seats.  

“Where do you think she is?” He asks, then takes a shot of straight vodka. This was one of many times he despised how poised he can be when the situation is dire. His lawyers had advised him to be emotional, but he can’t bring himself to put on an award-winning act when he’s one sleepless night away from a coma.

The older man glances at the rearview mirror, lips setting in a thin line as he eyes the bottle in Namjoon’s hand. 

“I’m unsure, sir. The police and your father has been searching in all of the places she could possibly be. I’m sure they will find her soon.”

“Dead or alive?”

The car jolts to a stop at the red light. “Sir?”

“It’s been a week. She hasn’t called, there’s no activity from her bank account, no money taken from the house, and no report of her fleeing the country. She left her belongings behind, including her cellphone and a coat during this weather. The investigation is only ongoing because there’s data from security that she let someone in at night and the back gates were open. The surveillance in the main roads nearby didn’t pick up any suspicious cars either. Now tell me…do you think she’s dead or alive?”

Lee presses on the gas pedal and sighs, staring straight ahead at the roads but unable to focus on any of the signs. 

“I don’t think I can answer that question, sir. Please forgive me.”

Namjoon takes another shot and turns his head towards the cars passing by him. There was no money taken, which concludes that the culprit’s motive had nothing to do with financial gain. It must be the reason why he’s under suspicion.

“Perhaps…” Lee speaks again, his careful eyes meeting Namjoon’s apathetic ones through the rearview mirror. “Perhaps _____ might be able to help with finding Miss Kim. She was very close to her. Maybe she knows a few locations we’ve missed.”

He considers the offer for a moment, knowing that the detectives had reached out to you for more information at the same time of his questioning. It’s true you were Yori’s closest friend for most of your life. Until last year, you talked to her on the phone several times a week and shared a meal with her at least once a week in your former apartment. You invited her to all social events and dressed, shopped, and spent quality time together. It would be a wise choice to call you in such a catastrophic time. He does, however, understand that you would be reluctant to involve yourself in the investigation for you had started a new life with this new boyfriend of yours and had distanced yourself from even Seokjin himself. Not even your mother knew about what you were up to on most days. 

Nonetheless, the situation is too severe to preserve his own pride as well as yours. Yori is with child and there’s still a morsel of a chance that she – and the baby – is safe. You may have changed in the last several months, but if there was one thing he’s still sure about you, it’s your willingness to set aside differences to help others. 

He hopes you would take the call once he musters the courage to dial your number. Maybe he’ll call Seokjin instead if he has a change of heart.

“I’ll consider it.” Namjoon nods as Lee nods back, slightly relieved. 

For the second time in his life, Namjoon is terrified of losing someone close. He had watched you, white chiffon and silk in your hand, as you ran out of the lobby and his life forever. He hoped that he can do right and bring Yori and his child back to safety and make sure – this time – to cherish what he has rather than what he’d lost.

Knocking the last shot of vodka, he leans his head back against the plush leather upholstery and closes his eyes, hoping more than anything to be taken out of his misery. 

…

They say a woman’s intuition doesn’t lie.

You’re thankful that it’s too late in the night and too early in the morning for your neighbors to hear the ding of the elevator as you make your way down the building. You didn’t bother dressing, merely grabbing your purse with the flashdrive tucked safely in one of its compartments on the way out. You’re still wearing Jungkook’s shirt as a dress and you slid into the first pair of sandals you can find through the burning tears. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel in the haze of betrayal but there’s a sense of humiliation that comes with finding out you were lied to – perhaps laughed at behind your back – for months. It’s the same feeling as that wedding night, but a million times worse now that you’ve reached the end of no return.

Even if you call Seokjin and urge him to help, there’s nothing you can do to change that you’re an accomplice. There’s nothing you can do to change that a sick part of you enjoyed scrubbing blood off the floors, fucking your dirtied boyfriend afterwards, and pretending life will continue as normal.

Furthermore, there’s nothing you can do to change that you’re still utterly in love with Jungkook.

It can’t all be a lie, can it? The reason why he chased after you, jumped over fences to bury his nose in your intimates, and carve your skin isn’t because he’s using you, right? There’s only so much pretending a person can do. Deep in your heart, you feel that Jungkook does really love you. You wouldn’t feel this safe with him, even after knowing he had done something irreversible in his childhood, if his tenderness towards you isn’t genuine.

Yet, you’re also acutely aware of how much money your family has. You know how many valuable assets you have under your name after your father’s passing. You know how easily you can change your life at any given moment if you choose to meet your mother’s expectations in marrying into a conglomerate family and living without worrying about money. The reason why Jungkook helped you during that wedding night can be because he had the opportunity to be with someone who can offer him financial security he didn’t have growing up. Maybe he was attracted to how easygoing your life is, only having to worry about which restaurant you want to pick for date night, unlike his formative years surviving on scraps.

You’re also pathetic, desperate, unloved. It was too easy for Jungkook to charm his way into your life in a moment of vulnerability. He must’ve known you came from money just by the size of the venue and how much you offered to pay him for his photography services. He must’ve known how naïve you were when you were willing to sleep in his arms that night, how willingly you swallowed the painkiller he gave you.

Even then, it doesn’t make sense. He owned a studio. He bought you gifts and took offense when you denied his offer to help pay for things only married couples do. He gifted you flowers every week and take you out to beautiful places when you were sad, never thinking twice about putting down his last dime if that’s what it took to see you smile. He’s patient and empathetic. He’s kind because he understands the pain of being hurt by the ones you love but he can also be kind because staying with you is convenient.

And you don’t want to be the convenient woman. Not anymore.

…

Jungkook’s phone vibrates in the back of his pocket, prompting him to remove his gloves and throw them in the fire with the rest of the corpse. The assistant is asleep on the couch, unaccustomed to night cleaning when Taehyung keeps her in charge during the day. Taehyung, on the other hand, slides his sanitized tools back in the slouchy leather bag, turning his head towards the fire when the alcohol from Jungkook’s gloves reawaken the fire for a moment.

Jungkook reaches behind him and fishes the phone from his pocket to see the notification from a security sensor. His stomach drops when the notification loads, the buffering swirl of the loading screen feeling eerily similar to the swirling aches in his stomach. He’s relieved that there are no police cars in front of the garage, but the relief is short lived as his eyes land on your car instead, the door to the driver’s seat left open.

He quickly switches to the cameras from the inside, pointed directly at the front door to see a figure walking through. He watches as you stumble inside, falling on your hands and knees as you tumble into the boxes of books and accessories he kept near the front steps. He haven’t had the chance to throw them back in the garage when Jimin and his team took away the freezer and left behind a mess.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung comes next to him, peering down at the phone. He watches in silence as Jungkook’s hand trembles.

He watches you grab onto the nearest table and pull yourself up from the ground before switching on the lights. And it was the sight of your swollen eyes, your bloodied knees, and your heaving breaths that had him running out of the room, grabbing the car keys and jacket from the hooks next to the door. The thought that someone might have hurt you set his head into flames. Taehyung’s assistant wakes with a slight gasp the moment Jungkook slams the door open into the bright reception desk area of a run-down funeral home. The walls vibrate.

“I’ll come with you,” is all Taehyung says as they fly out front door. His assistant would know what to do without him.

Taehyung takes the keys from his grasp and starts the car, stepping on the gas without hesitation as Jungkook buries his face in his hands and fold over in the passenger seat. He reaches over and runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, cursing underneath his breath. The younger man takes a moment to collect himself before his shaky fingers unlocks his phone once more, the loading screen causing him to bounce his knees as he waits. Even Taehyung’s comforting hand does nothing to soothe the panic rising up his esophagus.

“S-She’s going in the dark room,” he huffs as he keeps his eyes locked on his screen. “I don’t…d-don’t know why she-”

“We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

There are no cameras in the dark room, not even ones he can hide inside everyday objects.

In half the time it usually takes to get to the studio, Taehyung steers the vehicle into the familiar neighborhood, head swinging left and right to check if anyone else is nearby. Before he parks outside the garage, Jungkook undoes his seatbelt and steps out of the moving vehicle, running towards the front doorsteps. His shoulder crashes into the front door as he twirls his head around the studio, checking to see if he missed anything. He sees your handbag on the floor, the sliding doors to the darkroom remaining closed.

You’re inside there, hurt, bleeding, needing him. He should’ve stayed behind with you and let Taehyung take care of Yori; it wasn’t necessary for him to be there, but he didn’t want to be seen as ungrateful after asking for numerous favors.

Taehyung steps inside the studio and closes the front door behind him as Jungkook slides the darkroom doors open and step inside, sliding the wood back into place behind him. He steadies his breathing and takes a few seconds to adjust his eyes to the dark red bulbs above him. When he hears a crunch he looks down to see numerous photos of you underneath his soles, entire binders and broken photo frames laying across the concrete floors.  

Jungkook steadies himself with one hand on the wall, lining the perimeter of the room until he can spot your hunched figure in front of the metal cabinets. Your shoulders are shaking, hand patting around the inside of the of the cabinet, knocking over medication, empty film canisters, and stationery.

“Noona?”

You gasp, your hand flying to cover your mouth in the semi-darkness. The bottle of pills in your hand clatters to the floor, rolling towards Jungkook’s boots. Your back slams into the cabinet behind, eyes wide with fright as your tears roll down your face. He keeps his eyes on you as he kneels and takes the bottle in his hands, briefly looking down at the transparent bottle before looking back up at you.

“What’s going on? Why are you crying?” He asks, panting as he strides towards you with outstretched arms.

In the midst of your anger you fail to realize someone like Jungkook would have taken extra steps to track where you are. You didn’t even check if the car or phone is bugged. Even during this time you’re still stupid, you think. No wonder it’s easy for men to lie to your face with that kind of carelessness.

You shake your head, backing away from him. “Don’t.”

His eyes brim with tears as you clutch your chest, your body trembling. Jungkook shakes his head, holding his bare hands in front of him to show he won’t touch you. You look at those hands – the hands that have caressed your cheeks in the morning, massaged your shoulders after long work hours, buried your old best friend – like they were weapons.  

“I-I don’t understand,” he breathes, his hands trembling as his eyes rake over the scattered pictures on the floor, the open cabinet doors, and at your tattered appearance. You’re still dressed in his button down shirt, the material falling mid-thigh and he catches a glimpse of dried blood on your knees from your fall.

“I thought it was strange. How calm you were about all this. I t-thought…” you put your hands together over your heart, your chest shaking with sobs. He can hardly make out your words from the tears and the sound felt so painful to his ears he wanted to smother you, put his hands over your mouth, and keep you locked in his arms tight.

Your teeth clatters, not because you’re cold, Jungkook knows, but because you’re scared. Of him.

“Noona,” he whimpers again as he waits for your sobs to subside. He struggles to understand.

With the heel of your palm you wipe away the tears but the more you rub the worse it gets until you feel as if your face would drown under your own ministrations. The gut-wrenching pain you felt reading his report lingers in the depths of your stomach, churned into fear that there is a possibility you could end up just like them. How could you even know if his tears are real? How could you even know if the last few months of your relationship was even real?

“You never loved me, Jungkook. You…this is just some sick fantasy of yours, r-right?” Your voice breaks. You don’t understand what’s coming out of your mouth when the only thing you wanted to do was hurt him. Make him feel the way you do now. “Making me fall for you. Believe I can earn your dead parents’ approval. Making me your fucking doll. You got off on me being a naïve little bitch, didn’t you? You sick fuck.”

You know.

Oh god, you know.

Jungkook feels as if someone had wrapped a rope around his neck and pulled. Is it punishment for wanting happiness? Is it because he was bound to this endless life of suffering where the people he loved end up hurting him in the end? End up leaving?

Jungkook shakes his head, mouth falling open as he watches you back away from him into the corner. His sobs are loud and pained as if you had hit him across the cheeks. With every step he takes towards you, you take one step back, as if to say you don’t want him near, you don’t want him to touch you, as if you don’t even want him to look at you with those seemingly innocent eyes.

“You lied to me,” your voice reduces down to a whimper. “You promised me you’d never do that. Did you intend to keep this from me forever?”

“N-Noona…”

He falls to his knees, putting his hands together in prayer as he sobs. Through your anguish and his, Jungkook still holds your heart captive.

Like a dam bursting, his apologies engulfs you.

“Noona, I’m sorry! I-I-I didn’t know how to t-tell you,” he gasps for air, putting his hands down in front of him in surrender. He puts his forehead against the cold concrete, clasping his hands together in prayer, writhing, withering. “I swear, it wasn’t me! I didn’t w-want you to think I was a mu- murd-derer,” he hiccups, coughing as his hunched figure trembles. 

Backing away until your shoulder blades lean against the adjacent walls, your body slides down, the phone from your grip clattering onto the floor. The screen brightens with the image of you and him as Jungkook’s trembling figure creeps closer, crawling towards your feet in the darkness. You can’t feel your teeth gnawing on your thumb until you taste blood in your mouth. You watch your boyfriend’s cold hands wrap around your ankles as he puts his forehead onto your calves and begs.

“I love you, noona. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you so much. Please don’t hate me noona, please, I don’t know what I’ll do if you hate me. I’m sorry I l-lied to you, I swear I was going to tell you everything soon, noona. W-Whatever you saw is all wrong. I never killed them, I l-loved them with all my heart,” he surrounds your folded legs in his embrace, leaning his wet cheeks against your scraped knees as he sobs. “They hurt me. They m-made me like this, I didn’t want to be like this noona, I ju-just wanted someone to love me. I didn’t mean to b-be bad-“ His clammy hands presses your calves together, keeping your knees still.

Jungkook’s head raises, slowly, his soft dark locks falling from his face. His doe eyes aren’t focused on you but on some invisible spot on the ground. He whimpers your name before doubling over and hurling vomit onto the ends of your shirt, his head slamming into the cabinet next to you. The stench of bile wafts towards your face but you’re given no chance to move when Jungkook gags and empties his stomach once more, acidic saliva slipping down the corner of his mouth as he sobs.

With no warning whatsoever, he brings his head back and slams the side of his head against the metal cabinet doors. You’re frozen stiff, your body trembling as you watch the love of your life knock his head into the doors again and again, drool dripping down his mouth.

When he wails, you reach for him. “K-Kook-”

He brings his head back, eyes glazed, as he rams his head into the metal sheet again. And again.

“I-I’m sorry noona,” he cries, etching the words into his skull. “Noona I’m sorry…I-I didn’t meant to hurt you nng, noona…I won’t…”

With shaky limbs you crawl closer to your boyfriend, pulling him by the collar to stop but the panic causes your shaky hands to slip, merely finding success in pushing him towards the ground. He coughs, gasping for air. When his wails become louder, you hover above his writhing figure, hands on his arms to keep him still in desperation. It’s no use when he continues to apologize, not hearing your pleas to stop, to listen to your voice and breathe. Seeing him like this makes you want to take back your words.

The door to the darkroom slams open, revealing a tall man whose face you can’t see until he steps further into the red hue. You weren’t aware Jungkook didn’t come alone.

He must be Kim Taehyung; there’s no mistake from the stained lab coat he adorns to the tar black eyes that could bore holes through your skull. He looks awfully similar to Jungkook and if you hadn’t read the case and hadn’t known that Jungkook was an only child, you would think they’re brothers.

“Move.” He commands, the edge in his voice causing you to flinch back as he crouches above your blubbering boyfriend’s head and scoop him from under the armpits.

He’s strong enough to uncurl Jungkook’s shaking body, hushing the cries as he places your boyfriend’s face under his chin and press him against his chest. Like a child, Jungkook’s hand reaches up to fist the lapels of Taehyung’s lab coat, sobbing so hard that you were afraid his lungs might burst.

“Hyung is here, Jungkookie. I’m here. She’s here too, okay? We won’t leave you. Hush now.”

Taehyung’s voice is deep but filled with warmth, completely different from all the times you’ve overheard him speak through a call in your living room.

“I-I’m so-sorry noona, I won’t do it again- n-noona-,” he coughs.

The older man reaches inside his coat and fishes out a syringe. He cover Jungkook’s eyes with his long fingers, whispers a word of reassurance, before pressing the needle deep into Jungkook’s arm.

In a few short seconds, the cries lower, Jungkook’s body falling limp against the older man’s chest as your name falls repeatedly from his swollen lips. Taehyung places the syringe in his pocket and wipes the vomit and saliva from Jungkook’s chin with his thumb, his eyes sad as he peers at the boy in his arms.

The sound of water dripping down the faucet seems as loud as fireworks in the silence of the room. With your arms wrapped around yourself, knees pressed against your chest, you watch Taehyung brush away Jungkook’s sweat-soaked hair and wipe away the snot and tears on his nose and cheeks with the sleeves of his coat. Once his face is dry, he props Jungkook against the cabinet and stands to face the faucet, gathering a handful of water in his hands and cleaning Jungkook’s forehead where a bruise is starting to form.

“How did you find out?”

The tethered anger in his voice causes you to curl into the corner, making yourself as small as possible. You don’t forget that Taehyung is the reason why they are both free men; the man is every bit terrifying as he is handsome.

“A-A friend of mine…he showed me.”

Taehyung hums, knowing exactly who had caused tonight’s troubles, wiping his hands on his coat. He takes several strides and crouch down in front of you, glancing at Jungkook’s face before turning back. He stares into your eyes without commenting and you’re not sure where to look. You settle on looking down at your scraped knees, the trembling causing your voice to shake.

“Are you disgusted?”

You meet his eyes, biting the insides of your cheeks. “D-Disgusted…no. Not disgusted. I’m just…scared…s-scared of what he did.”

He exhales, his long fingers coming up to massage his temples.

“I killed them.” He blinks. He nods shortly afterwards, as if he were reliving the moment. “Jungkook was simply there. They were going to kill him. It was me who did everything you saw in those photos.”

You swallow, eyes brimming with tears as your body warms in response. Your boyfriend is innocent. Maybe not completely, but enough that you can release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Okay.” You murmur, nodding. You’re not sure what the proper response is for that kind of confession.

“There are some people who don’t deserve to be parents. His mother, especially. You would be surprised how happy he became when we had no more family.”

You nod, keeping your eyes lowered. Your eyes fall to your cellphone near Taehyung’s shoes, your lips parting.

“T-Then…he wasn’t adopted afterwards?”

Taehyung cocks his head. “Adopted?”

“I-it’s just,” you stammer, wondering if it would anger him if you asked but something tells you Taehyung is a reasonable man albeit his brutality. “There’s a co-contact in his phone…a-and he labeled her as ‘mother’…”

The older man nods. “We call her our mother. She helped us when we had nowhere to go, gave us a place to sleep.”

As if the weight from your shoulders melted away once more, you slump against the wall. Of course, Jungkook wouldn’t cheat on you with another woman.

Taehyung continues. “We did what we had to do. We learned how to make fake documents, little things like IDs, and it kept us afloat for a while. Jungkook prefers that kind of work still, but I don’t. You’ll never see a photographer making this kind of money without dabbling into…indecent practices. It’s expensive to feel secure, I’m sure you can at least relate to that.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you understand the kind of life we had now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip. There’s no doubt you love Jungkook but the wound remains agape, the initial ugly feeling of betrayal swimming in your belly. You have the right to feel this way, but Taehyung is rather unconcerned about your feelings. If you weren’t loved by Jungkook, he would have stuck the barrel of his gun down your throat and threaten to blow out your organs out the other end. He’ll be patient this time and let nature takes its course; there’s a possibility you’re pregnant. You won’t be able to leave now, and you won’t be able to leave once you carry the baby to full term.

“I do,” you answer, the trembling gone.

You glance over at Jungkook’s sleeping form. Despite how hurt you may be now, you need to be there for him. You can’t imagine how sick he would feel, how much panic he would feel, when he wakes.

“I’m glad you do. After all,” Taehyung stands. “You’re not completely innocent either.”

Your head snaps up to meet his gaze.

He knows about Yori.

“Did you…?”

He confirms your thoughts. “I did. There’s no need to worry unless you talk, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t.”

You release a shaky breath. “Okay.”

You’ve reached a dead end. You can’t amend your mistakes like good people, sane people, do. You’re as good as married to Jeon Jungkook, Yori’s burial being the glue tying you to him in holy matrimony. You have no choice but to vow to protect and love him in sickness and health. In all honestly, you can’t imagine your life any other way.

Taehyung brushes invisible dust off his coat.

“There is one more thing,” he says and with new conviction you meet his gaze once more. “If by any chance you do something stupid, I will kill you. And Jungkook can’t stop me then. Remember that.”

…

Seokjin follows the scent of a cigarette. It’s hardly half past six in the morning and the wind makes him push his head down as he maneuvers through the trees to the abandoned park. The playground he played in as a child is torn down, the blue slides and yellow swings torn apart by ongoing construction. Between the trees and industrial machinery he struggles to find his former co-worker and friend who had messaged him quite suddenly about the investigation on Jungkook. It’s something big, he says, and Hoseok doesn’t say something like that unless he means it. And if it’s bigger than the case file, then it’s bound to be something incriminating. He wasn’t sure if Yoongi might be here too, but he doubt it since the man can hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning.

It’s a little odd that Hoseok asked to meet immediately and he wonders if it was because he responded as soon as he received the text. Maybe if he had answered later in the day he could sleep in before work, but with Yori’s disappearance his nights have been filled with thoughts about you. Some fresh air would serve him well.

“Hoseok?!” He turns his head left and right, huffing as he struggle to catch his footing on the uneven cobblestone paths.

When he hear footsteps near the playground he turns his head towards the noise, blinking as he struggles to make out the figure of a person on the ground. She must be homeless, he thinks, as he watches her wrap her tattered scarf around her neck while wailing in a strange, kitten-like voice. She mutters something to herself in another language.

He takes a step closer, calling out to the plump woman as she stretches a leg out in front of her and fans her hand over what looks like a bloody wound. The gash is deep enough for him to stop in his tracks.

“Ma’am are you alright?” He asks.

His phone rings in his coat pocket and he reaches inside, looking down at Namjoon’s number displayed across the screen before locking his phone. Seems like he’s quite in demand this morning. He tucks the device back into his coat and walks over to the woman.

“Ma’am?”

She looks up at him, her mud-caked face and hair crumbling as she whimpers and move her bloody leg away from his sight.

“Do you need help standing?” He asks, closing in on her rocking figure. It’s not safe for a woman – much less a homeless woman – to be alone and injured. The park hardly garners enough visitors for its awkward location. He might be her only help.

“N-no…n-no…no,” the woman holds her leg away, wailing as she rocks from side to side.

Seokjin hovers next to the woman, folding over to gauge the extent of her injuries when his eyes trails over the thin red paint covering from the bottom of her knee to the middle of her calves. She babbles and wails, flailing her arms over the leg until a silver glint flashes over his eyes and air is knocked out of his lungs. When he opens his eyes and groans, he’s facing the cloudless sky, his vision flashing purple and black. He curses and turns to his side only to come face to face with a pair of black shoes.

He doesn’t raise his chin. Rather, he’s not given the choice, not when he feels the barrel of a gun pressed upon his noggin. The sound of bullet entering its chamber sounds from behind and he realizes quickly that he’s been set up.

“Kim Taehyung,” he wheezes, sputtering as he catches his breath. The gun behind him trails up his spine until it’s pressing into the back of his skull. He doesn’t know who that woman his, but he knows for sure the man standing in front of him can’t be anyone else but Taehyung.

In his paralysis he can hardly think of how Taehyung was able to use Hoseok’s number to meet him at a place only he and Hoseok investigated. The last time he spoke to him, Hoseok had only warned that he couldn’t continue the investigation, that Kim Taehyung had formally requested him to quit meddling, and ended the call shortly after. Surely Taehyung couldn’t have done something to the man in Hong Kong? He couldn’t think of a reason why someone who isn’t even related to Jungkook by blood will go through such lengths to protect him.

“Didn’t I tell you not to meddle in my affairs?”

He nods, exhaling. “You d-did.”

The gun from behind slides from his skull to his temple.

“You should have listened the first time.”

[captain-yeet]

The Worst Timing (Felix x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Keeping things to yourself is hard when your father reads minds. How do you successfully keep the secret that you're in a relationship with your family's sworn enemy?

Word count: 1.9k 

Warnings: NSFW; local man goes down under + edging, swearing, second-hand embarrassment

Author’s Note: Spicy times getting interrupted, I’m a sucker for that. Might make this a two-parter if people like it 🥺👉👈

Privacy in the Cullen household wasn’t always a given, especially with having a mind reader for a father.

Being the adopted member of Edward and Bella Cullen's strange family, you grew up knowing off the bat that your new family were vampires - gifted vampires at that - from very early on. Now that you were a legal adult and out of school, your parents and family were worried about a certain Italian governing force of vampires paying them a visit in regards to your mortality.

They didn't know however, even with your aunt's foresight, that they already knew that you were of the age to be turned. Aro had left that up to fate's hands.

Well, fate's hands being his trusted executioner, who's hands were very much occupied right now with gripping onto whatever part of you he could as the two of you kissed each other with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

"What-what if someone walks in on us?" You half asked half whined into your boyfriend's mouth.

Felix simply laughed, quietly, moving his lips from yours to your cheek. "I have very good hearing, sweetheart, if anyone's approaching the house I'll know."

Luck smiled upon you when you were born. While you didn't share the same blood of Bella, you happened to have a gift that was very similar to hers - the gift of being able to block specific thoughts and memories from someone's mind. You found out while talking with your adopted sister Renesmee one day, she tried to show you something you'd rather not know about with her gift, and your mind and body shied away from it. So much so, her projected memories couldn't get into your head.

Which led you to the helpful discovery that not only could you block Renesmee from from projecting thoughts into your mind at-will, but you could do the same with your dear old dad about your very secret Volturi boyfriend.

You'd been very sneaky, both you and Felix, at working around your family's multiple gifts to stay hidden. Today, your parents and sister were out, leaving you to your own devices. Originally you planned on sneaking Felix into your room but the two of you only made it as far as the living room.

Felix took your chin in his hand and made you look him in the eye; his own were almost pitch black from how dilated his pupils were, the ring of blood red that you'd grown so accustomed to barely visible. "Now relax, mi amore. I've got you."

His words made you feel secure.

With one arm hooked around your waist and the free one reaching down to work on what you assumed was the buckle of his belt, he turned the two of you around, leading you forward towards him. Kissing you again, you heard his pants hit the floor as Felix fell back towards onto the couch behind him, bringing you down on top of him.

You adjusted yourself so you were straddling him, your thighs on either side of his hips. Shifting your weight a little to each side, a jolt of arousal struck you as he grabbed hold of your hips and thrusted upward, his own arousal plainly obvious.

 “These,” Felix growled, reaching up for your shirt, “need to go. Now.”

 “Take them off yourself.”

To drive your sassy retort home further, you grinded against him, keeping eye contact. It gave you pleasure to watch him lose his focus, his eyes rolling to the back of his head mouth half open.

If anything, the fact that you, you, could drive a vampire wild was only turning you on further, your ego growing bigger by the second.

You didn’t have long to enjoy your smug pride at giving Felix pleasure however as you felt one of his hands move to your leg and the other staying firmly at your hip; then in the blink of an eye, you were on your back and the sound of cloth being torn caught your attention.

 You pouted up at Felix, who tossed the remnants of your now ripped shirt to the side. “I liked that shirt, y’kno- hey!”

Ignoring you, Felix easily tore off everything you were wearing waist down with terrifying ease. Throwing more torn material aside, his eyes travelled up and down your exposed body with growing lust... and a smugness of his own.

Not letting up on the fact he just ripped your clothes, you tried to glare up at him. “I liked those too.”

Felix chuckled darkly. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

 “Even that exact shirt?” you pressed, raising your eyebrows. This man brought out a bratty side to you that you didn’t know existed, and deep down you both secretly liked it.

Felix, even though he'd ever admit it, loved how bratty you got sometimes.

He rolled his eyes, moving off the couch to pull you to the other end of it. “I have money, now relax my dear Y/N.”

Cocky bastard, you thought to yourself.

Completely at his mercy, your boyfriend - or rather, your mate - admired you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. "You have no clue just how absolutely breathtaking you are to me," he said softly, slowly getting on his knees. Felix kept eye contact with you, which felt a little intimidating but also it aroused you.

Before you could open your mouth to respond you gasped as a pair of cold lips brushed against your inner thigh, placing loving kisses trailing up further and further, closer to where you needed it most.

"Felix," you whimpered, wiggling to try and get any friction where you needed it.

"I know, baby," he assured you, "let me make you feel good."

And finally, you felt his tongue make contact with your sensitive core. The moan that left your lips was as sinful as it was needy, leaving you a whimpering mess on the couch.

Felix was an attentive lover, making good use of his mouth and fingers to bring you closer to climax. You could do nothing more than buck against his tongue as he fucked you with it.

"Felix I'm - I'm gonna -"

To your dismay, he pulled out as you began to pull him in closer. His mouth covered in your own wetness, he flashed a grin at you as he rose from his crouched position. "Not yet. I want you to come when I want you to."

You sighed impatiently, feeling like you needed to cry in frustration. So, you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself.

Taking pause, Felix was suddenly at your side, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you. "If you need me to slow down, I can," he offered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “If I’m being too much...”

"You're fine," you assured him with a weak smile, "I'm just... I am, well..." you broke eye contact and stared blankly at his chest as you mumbled the next few words to leave your mouth. "I just really need to come."

He deftly opened the door to your room, chuckling at your words. "You will, I'll make sure of it, cara mia."

"You sound so sure of that," you teased as Felix lay you back onto a bed - your bed. He'd carried you into your room.

"Tease," he growled.

"And you're an incubus."

That made him snort. Felix closed his eyes, shaking his head briefly. "Only for you."

Stepping back, Felix rid himself of the shirt and boxers he wore.

Now, looking at him, you assumed he'd be big. 6'7 and built like a heavyweight champion, physically he was intimidating. Bigger than average. And boy were you correct in that assumption.

Felix wasted no time in lining himself up with your cunt; being completely soaked from what he did to you on the couch, it made it a little easier for you to take him.

Pants and moans filled the room, neither of you holding back with the sounds you were making. For you this was bliss; you couldn't imagine anything better than Felix, nothing would ever compare.

It didn't take long for you to build your climax up again. Felix could tell by how much more ragged your breathing had become.

"That's it sweetheart," he praised you, feeling his own release build up as he watched you come undone beneath him, "come for me. I want you to come for me, baby."

His words coaxed your impending orgasm along, and you wordless cried out, grabbing his shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode it out.

The sensation of your nails digging into his back brought along his own orgasm, a feral snarl ripping through his throat. You heard something snap just behind your head as Felix's thrusts slowed down.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the only sound in the room being your erratic heartbeat and breathing.

The post-sex bliss was that; blissful. Being in his arms, you felt like you were home.

Until the bliss was brought to an end.

"Y/N?" An urgent voice called out from somewhere in the house.

Your dad.

So much for Felix’s super hearing.

Locking eyes with Felix with nothing other than the shared expression of "oh shit," he deftly rolled off you, his boxers back on in a flash as you darted up from your bed to lock your bedroom door.

"Y/N Cullen answer me!" Edward's sharp voice boomed from the hallway, coming closer.

"You smell that scent too right, dude?" A second voice called out.

Uncle Emmett.

You looked back to Felix, who now at least had some of his clothes on. He gave you an apologetic look, throwing you the nearest article of clothing near him; a long shirt dress.

You quickly padded over to him and he cupped your face, stroking your cheek reassuringly with his thumb as your door began to rattle. "Go," you whispered, pointing toward your bedroom window.

"You better put that on," he replied, eyeing the door warily.

You fumbled with the dress, shoving your arms through it and quickly pulling it down over you.

Luckily for your chastity, the moment you were decent, your door came barreling down, hitting the floor with a loud thud as your father and uncle burst into your room. Their eyes widened when they saw who you were with.

"Oh shit," Emmett shouted, eyes wide looking between you and Felix.

"You motherfucker," Edward snarled in a deadly quiet tone of voice, his eyes locked solely on Felix.

You turned back to Felix, who was as tense as a spring. "Go, now!"

"I love you Y/N," he said urgently, his gaze flickering to the window.

"I know," you replied hastily. You had to buy him time, a window to escape out your actual window. You vaguely acknowledged the sound of your uncle shouting "What!?" at Felix's words.

So, you grabbed a nearby chair and launched it at the two of them.

Edward caught the chair easily, tossing it gently to the side to turn the full intensity of his glare onto you. "You, young lady, have some explaining to do. What was that... that monster doing in our home?"

You turned around, and saw the window wide open, Felix nowhere to be seen. You hoped he'd run far enough to where he could avoid your family's wrath.

Despite the clear trouble you were in, you couldn't help but giggle at the tonight of him running half dressed through the woods.

[kai-strophics]

Using my HC about Edric's heart problems, here we go~! ~ He gets cold a lot, so sometimes he wears layers even if it's really warm on the Isles. He'll noticeably shiver, and for a second Hunter forgets how is his boyfriend so cold, but then he remembers and offers up all of the blankets and hugs Ed could ever want, just to help him get a little bit warm ~ Edric's had four open heart surgeries throughout his life; for the last two, he was dating Hunter and the Golden Guard was beside himself. He didn't know how to handle it, or what to DO, and hated waiting around wondering if Ed had made it out alive or not. He was very demanding in getting updates; Emira, Amity, and Dalia had to get him to sit down before he caused an uproar ~ Seeing Ed in the Healing Coven hospital looking so beat down and near death started the fuck out of Hunter. His usually boisterous, goofy, energetic boyfriend is reduced to exhaustion, a cracking voice, sunken eyes, and way too many bottles of elixir going into his arms. It takes him about a week to come home and takes time for him to get up and get moving, eating without getting nauseated and the works. Hunter never left his side, afraid he was going to lose Edric if he blinked. ~ Nobody told Hunter that Ed died on the table for a couple of seconds that very same surgery. It's something Ami and Em will take to their graves. ~ Hunter is shockingly able to split his time between his uncle and Edric once his boyfriend is back home. Of course, when he can't be there the Blight family is helping, but when he *can* be there, he's right beside Ed in his bedroom, getting him everything and anything he can. Helps him walk to the bathroom, etc. He's extremely on edge and hovery. Edric's too exhausted and in pain to argue about it being annoying, but in reality, he really likes how attentive, careful, worried, and loving Hunter is. He's cheated death four times and had many minor procedures for his heart with it being just his family; it's nice to have a boyfriend now who *wants* to help and loves him no matter how beat up he is. ~ Edric has a lot of painful nights adjusting to his new meds. Elixir's are tricky and sometimes it takes a little bit to find the right ones. Even months after his surgery(ies), Ed experiences pain from time to time. The Healing Coven assures his heart is doing well and it's not the usual chest pains they'd be worried about. He's just taken a nasty beating over the years between his heart and bile sac, so sometimes, things just chronically come up. Hunter does whatever he can to soothe Ed during those moments; he's found that having Edric lay on his side with a body pillow and several other support bed pillows helps as Hunter strokes his hair. They'll watch some of Hunter's favorite human shows as a distraction, and after some handfuls of hours, Ed can finally fall asleep comfortably. ~ Hunter has nightmares about Edric dying on him. He has to lay close enough to his boyfriend to not only feel his heart beating, but hear Ed breathing. ~ Edric is self conscious about his chest scar since it's been cut into four different times with some minor little incisions to the left and right of that (minus his top surgery scars, he's very proud of those); the scar for his heart surgeries is long (from in between his collarbones all the way down to just above his diaphragm), and dark from being slices into over and over again. He doesn't think it makes him look pretty anymore, and even though he's fought tooth and nail to stay alive and so has his heart, it makes him feel ugly. Hunter knows this feeling ALL too well and is quick to love on it and tell him how much *he* loves it, because if it weren't for those scars, Edric wouldn't be here with him now. It helps most days, and brings that smile Hunter loves so much to Ed's face. THIS IS GETTING WILDLY LONG, BUT~ That's what I got for the time being! I'm.........very passionate about this heart HC; call it a little bit of a self project oop;

:O!

I think the Idea of Ed having some form of chronic illness/disability from a young age is really interesting, especially when you think of how Odalia and his sisters would mix into that situation.

Adding onto to Edric getting cold alot, I always liked the hc of Ed having really cold hands- compared to Hunter who has really warm hands. They hold hands and cuddle at the perfect temperature :]

Hunter got ZERO sleep during Ed's surgeries, eyebags becoming so big that he looked like he was dying. Amity and Emira were always by Ed's side, however Hunter usually wasn't allowed to be near him. Which did Not sit well with him.

Often on sleepless nights Hunter would fall asleep to the sound of Ed's heart beat and breath. It comforted him, a wordless way of saying "I'm still here".

Small touches, traces of sort always are how the two comfort eachother I like to think. So when Hunter finds Ed grieving over his own scars, Hunter would sneak up behind him and hug him. Tracing around the area of where it was as that's what Edric would do for his.

Those touches brought a sense beauty.

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

I AM SO SORRY FOR WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ.

Happy Birthday @goddessofmischief03 I'M SORRY THIS IS YOUR PRESENT FROM ME!

Part 8

The pair of you drove for hours. Zemo didn't care about where you wanted to stop. All you had to do was say the word and he would pull over here and there. You had taken so many photos on your phone. Though a lot of them were just of him. Maybe you would get those printed and make an album. Maybe you were just getting carried away.

The evening rolled in. The wicked woman had texted you an hour ago to state what time she wanted to meet you. Zemo had dropped you off, kissing you before letting you go. He left to meet with Sam, hoping to get his forgotten car back home.

You entered the bar. It was pretty empty, finding her wasn't hard. Lucky for you, she was alone. You took a deep breath as you walked over to her table and sat down, but not even offering her a smile.

On the table right in front of her was a file. That scared you. Whatever this was about, she was serious. You tried to keep your emotions at bay as you sat still, hands in your lap. You stared at her.

She stared back.

"You came," she said, almost as if she expected you not to.

"Of course I did, I'm not a horrible person who stands people up. Even if I'm here for nonsense."

She narrows her eyes at you.

"Neither am I."

"You're right. You're just blind," you cross your arms over your chest and ignore the waiter who brings you each a glass of water.

"I'm not the blind one," she hisses after he leaves.

"No? What kind of sick game are you playing here? Tony Stark isn't in love with you. It's all a publicity stunt."

"It's not!"

"See? You're blind to the truth. You're being lured in by the fact you admire him. You have been a fan of racing much longer than I. You have seen Stark win over and over again, season after season. You're in love with the idea of dating a professional racer."

She looks pissed.

"It's all lies. You know nothing. I'll show you who that man really is. Chasing Zemo is a mistake. You'll regret ever knowing him after you learn the truth."

"What truth? What are you talking about?" You try to resist raising your voice.

"This!" She slams a hand over the file.

"What is it? What's in there?"

She hands the file to you. You take it, but don't yet open it. You stare at her. On the outside you look cold, calculating. On the inside, your heart is racing and a million thoughts are running through your head. You're freaking out.

"What had Helmut Zemo told you?" She asks, looking you in the eye.

"About what?"

"About him."

"Not a lot. He is wealthy. Has houses all around Europe, owns a large collection of cars that have been passed down through his family. He doesn't have a large racing background, but he is passionate about cars." You shrug, not knowing what else to say.

"So he didn't you he was a Baron? That his family was literally royalty before Sokovia surrendered in the war? He wasn't even in the county when it collapsed. That's why he doesn't talk about it. His family is dead."

"Why are you telling me this? I know about Sokovia, it was global news. A whole country destroyed in the crossfire. If you have any respect for the dead, you'll stop talking about his family that way," you say, glaring at her.

"I'm not done. Open the file."

You glare a moment longer before you open the file. You look down at the first page you're presented with.

"Who is that?"

There was a photo of a young man. Dirty blonde hair, tall, blue eyes, sweet smile.

"That's Pietro Maximoff," she tells you that name as if you should know who he is.

"Who is he?"

"Pietro Maximoff was a racer."

"Was?"

"He died." She reaches across the table and points to some information below his photo. You can't the words on the page.

Pietro Maximoff

Deceased

Died on impact

Cause: Car accident.

Speculation of foul play by the hands of Helmut Zemo. Car appeared to have been tampered with before hand. Witness testified to sighting of Zemo tampering with car. No solid evidence provided.

You stared at the words, letting them sink in. The woman across from you says nothing as you scan the ink before you.

You swallow.

"It says no evidence was provided."

"There doesn't need to be. He was seen."

"Why who?"

"No one knows. They remained anonymous," she shrugs lightly.

"What are you trying to tell me?" You look at her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back your emotions.

"Baron Helmut Zemo killed Pietro Maximoff because Maximoff was his competition. Zemo has raced before, but his career was cut short after this. Unfortunately there was no actual proof to pin on him, the witness only had their statement. Maximoff was the next big racer and Zemo dealt with him."

You stand abruptly.

"No."

"Zemo is a murderer," she tells you.

"Stop, please."

"He didn't tell you any of this did he?"

"You're lying."

"All the evidence is in that folder."

The tears fall. You shake your head and try to control your breathing. She's lying. She has to be.

"Stark told me everything. He even provided the information."

You shake your head again.

"I don't believe it. Why are you doing this to me? Is this your sick way of getting back at me? This is cruel. This is so cruel."

"It's the truth. You won't find anything by looking up the Baron, but if you look up Pietro Maximoff you'll find the story. Zemo killed a man so he could win. What's stopping him from doing it again?"

"Are you implying he would kill Stark? Are you insane?" You almost yell.

"He has killed a man before. What's once more?" She asks, angrily hissing out the words.

"Please don't do this to me," you plead.

"Read it. Accept it. It's true. They might not have anything solid on him, but you know as well as I that it's true."

You shake your head a third time.

"Look at it. Read the articles." She moves the file on Pietro over and underneath is a newspaper article.

Racing star, Pietro Maximoff dies in horrific accident

Baron Helmut Zemo disqualified from racing season over foul play speculation.

Helmut Zemo to stand trial

Baron Zemo walks free

"He wasn't found guilty of anything."

"I said it doesn't matter! He did it. Everyone knows he did it."

"You can't just give around accusing people of murder," you his quietly. You had sat back down, not wanting anyone to see your rage.

"Open your eyes."

"You don't know him," you say, voice falling to defeat.

"You don't know Tony Stark."

"I know him better than you." You close the file. "Do not ever come at me with this. Unless you have hard evidence that Zemo was there and had done what he was accused of, I won't believe you."

"You say that now, but trust me. You're going to come around," she gathers the file and stands up.

You watch her storm away.

You bite your cheek as tears fall. Taking out your phone, you search up Pietro Maximoff.

Zemo's name popped up several times.

He really has been accused of killing this young man.

Why did your chest hurt so much?

Maybe you should have asked him earlier when the thought crossed your mind.

You continue to sit at that table, ordering a drink mindlessly when the waiter comes over. It's all you have.

You look at the photo of Pietro on your phone. He had to be in his early twenties. Probably the youngest racer you had come across so far.

You sit there for ages, slowing drinking.

Your phone then starts to ring. You stare at the name lighting up your screen.

Zemo👑

Did you dare answer?

Having spent too long trying to decide, it clicks off. You stare at the screen. It lights up a second time.

Zemo👑

He must be worried. Yet, looking at his name flashing up on screen, dread fills you. Yob your phone, leave money for the drink, and make your way out.

The cold air of the night feels sharp and bitter against your skin. When did it get so cold? Or was that just you?

There was no one out here.

You're not sure if you felt glad about that. Your phone rings again. You know he'll be coming to pick you up, especially if you don't answer his call.

You swipe the call button and hold the phone up to your ear.

"Y/N? Thank goodness, you were not picking up. I was worried something bad happened. I'm on my way to you now, are you alright?"

You listen to his worried words. You stand there wondering who it was you were actually talking to.

"Y/N? Are you there?"

There is panic to his voice.

"Zemo..."

"Y/N? What is it? What's happened?"

You just knew he was picking up the speed right now. He was going to do anything to get to you now.

"Have you been honest with me?"

"What do you mean? Of course I have."

Lies. He is lying. That little voice in the back of your mind is repeating that to you. Lies.

You begin to cry.

"Who is Pietro Maximoff?"

Silence.

"Zemo, who is Pietro Maximoff?"

"How do you know that name?"

"Who is he?"

More silence.

You sob into the phone. His silence was an answer. He knew who you were talking about and your mind spiraled out of control.

He's dangerous. Stark was right.

You hang up. You turn your gaze down the street and decide to walk. You needed air.

Zemo was losing his mind. That wicked woman! What had she told you? Why had she brought that up?

When he realised you had hung up, he put his foot down. He had to get to you. He had to explain, he had to tell you himself.

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't.

This is not how he had imagined his night to go. Suddenly, things were falling apart.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief

[bibbawrites]

Don’t Get Caught - Owen Joyner x Reader (16+)

Request: mischievous/playful/giggly sneaking around with Owen on set or evading Charlie in their apartment

Word Count: 3142 words

Summary: You are a makeup artist on set for Julie and The Phantoms and quickly began messing around with Owen, but the fear of potentially losing your job if anyone finds out has the two of you sneaking around and trying your best to not be caught aka 4 times you and Owen were almost caught messing around and one time you were 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references, implied oral sex, reference to m*sturbation

A/N: hi all! so this is my first attempt at a jatp related fic so hopefully i do okay, sorry for any mistakes, most of this was written and edited from 2am-6am because those are my motivation hours  i also don’t usually write reader insert so fingers crossed i dont mess this up lol. i have a ton of requests to work through so keep an eye out for things coming soon (hopefully)  also, to the person who requested this, sorry it took so long (my dumb ass deleted 90% of it and had to start again) i really hope i did your idea justice :)

1. Makeup Trailer 

The first time you met Owen was on your first day on set. Kenny had dragged the cast in to meet you, and something about Owen drew you in and you just knew you had to get to know the beautiful blonde boy. 

Luckily your chance came sooner than expected when you were working alone in the makeup trailer a few days later. The door opened and Owen came in, smiling brightly when he saw you.

“Hey, you’re Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded.

“I am.” You replied and he grinned.

“I’m Owen. Nice to meet you, again.” He said awkwardly.

You giggled at his awkwardness. 

“Nice to meet you again too. Sit down.” You gestured to the chair in front of you and he sat down. You got to work quickly, working in silence for a few minutes before Owen spoke up.

“So how long have you been doing makeup for? You look young.” He asked.

“I’ve been doing it professionally for 5 years now. I started working in my mum’s salon when I was 15, and when I graduated I did a course to get me this job.” You told him. He paused.

“So you’re 20?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“I am.” 

“Cool, I’m 19.”  He said, and you hummed in response, concentrating on making sure his face didn’t looked cakey.

“So are you from around here?” You shook your head.

“Nah I moved here from Quebec.” You said.

“Alone? Or with your family or... boyfriend?” Owen asked, the last part sounding slightly bitter.

“Yeah I came alone, my mum is too busy with her salon, and my siblings are still in school. And I don’t have a boyfriend.” You told him and he grinned slightly.

“Good to know.” He muttered quietly. You raised an eyebrow, not quite hearing him properly.

“Sorry?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Nothing.” 

“Okay...” You trailed off, not believing him. “Well you’re all done.”

“Already?” He frowned slightly. 

“Yep.” You smiled.

“Oh. Thanks.” He stood up, pausing slightly. 

“Can I get your number?” He asked, somewhat hesitantly. Realisation dawned on you.

“So that’s why you asked about a boyfriend.” You said, eyebrow raised. 

“Guilty.” He grinned cheekily.

“Give me your phone.” You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it, and you quickly added a new contact, typing in your number and texting yourself from his phone.

“There. I’ll text you pretty boy.” You said, handing him his phone back. He grinned.

“I’ll see you around Y/N.” He said, turning to leave for the hair trailer. You watched him leave with a smile on your face.

A week of texting and flirting later and you found yourself alone with Owen in the makeup trailer again.

“So what scenes are you filming today pretty boy?” You questioned as you began to apply his makeup.

“Why do you always call me pretty boy?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Because you’re pretty? And a boy?” You said, pulling a face.

“Are you flirting with me?” He grinned, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” You said. He bit his lip.

“So if I tried to kiss you you’d say?” He asked, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Eh why not?” You said it like it was nothing but inside you were freaking out.

“Y/N.” He groaned and you giggled.

“Just kidding.” You teased.

“So?” He asked again after a moment of silence. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god just kiss me you dork.” Owen didn’t even take a second to think about it, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his lap, connecting your lips in a less than innocent kiss. Your lips fitted together perfectly, and he tasted faintly of blueberry and spearmint. After what felt like a lifetime he pulled away from you, leaving you panting and wanting more.

“Wow that was...” He was the first to speak, his voice breathy. You nodded.

“Yep.” You said simply. “I should probably...”

You stood up from his lap, and had barely stepped away when the door opened.

“Hey Y/N, one of my lashes came off and... oh...” Savannah’s voice came, the young actress pausing when she saw how close the two of you were.

“Hey Savannah.” You said with a smile. She returned your smile before glancing back at Owen.

“Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She asked. The two of you shook your heads.

“No, not at all.” You said.

“I was just leaving.” Owen added, standing up from his chair. Savannah raised an eyebrow.

“If you say so.” She replied as Owen left the trailer quickly. The door shut behind him and Savannah grinned at you.

“You like him.” She said, her tone teasing.

“No...” You denied. Savannah rolled her eyes.

“You so do Y/N. And I know Owen, he definitely likes you too.” She told you.

“If you say so.” You said, grabbing a new fake lash to fix the missing one.

Savannah grinned. 

“Oh I know so. You’ll see.”

2. Julie’s Bedroom Set

“Come on Y/N, what’s the worst that could happen?” Owen had said as he dragged you through the filming lot towards the set of Julie’s bedroom. You had been heading off to grab some lunch when he had intercepted you and asked if you wanted to “hang”, which by this point you knew was code for hide somewhere and make out for a while. You had originally said no, but those darn puppy eyes had made you say yes before you even realised you were saying it. 

“What if someone catches us?” You had questioned, but Owen silenced your worries with a blistering kiss that left you breathless. 

“We’ll be fine.” He muttered as he pulled away. “Don’t stress.” 

“Famous last words.” You muttered, allowing him to pull you back in and kiss you again. You ran your fingers through his hair, knowing that he would have to have it fixed up before his next scene anyways. 

It had been a few weeks since that first kiss in the makeup trailer, and since then you had learnt the taste and feeling of Owen’s lips on yours, a feeling that was now so familiar to you that it felt like second nature. 

You mindlessly kissed him back, thanking your past self for deciding to use your favourite chapstick flavour, choc mint, on him earlier that morning when you did his makeup for the day. 

You pulled away to take a breath and he grinned at you. 

“I’m glad we met.” He said. You blushed slightly.

“Me too.” You agreed.

He pulled you back in and kissed you again, this kiss more passionate than the last, and you shuffled closer to him, your lips never leaving his for a second. You could feel his hands resting on your waist, his tongue in your mouth, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

Suddenly you heard a noise and you pulled away quickly, the fear of being caught overpowering your feelings for Owen.

“Someone’s coming.” You said quickly. Owen frowned.

“What?” He questioned.

“There’s someone coming.” You repeated and his expression changed to fear.

“Fuck, what do we do? Run?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes.” 

He grabbed your hands and pulled you up off the bed, linking your fingers together before dragging you off the set, the both of you giggling the whole way back to his trailer.

“It’s kinda fun, almost but not quite getting caught.” You admitted once the two of you were curled up on the couch in his trailer.

“It is.” He agreed. “But do you know what’s even more fun?”

“What?” You questioned.

“Making out with you.”

And if Owen went back to set with the taste of your orgasm on his tongue that was for only the two of you to know. 

3. Owen and Charlie’s Living Room 

You had just finished some finishing touches on Savannah’s makeup when Owen burst into the makeup trailer. 

“You’re all done.” You told Savannah and she grinned. 

“Thanks Y/N.” She stood up from the chair. “See you later. Bye Owen.” 

She glanced between the two of you, before turning and giving you a quick wink as she left, leaving you and Owen alone in the trailer. 

“So?” You spoke, beginning to pack up your brushes. “Why are you here?” 

“Well you see, I’m finished for the day and I checked your schedule and you are too, and I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place to watch a movie and chill or something.” Owen spoke, plopping himself into one of the chairs and spinning around. 

"What about Charlie?” You asked, placing your brush bag into the large drawer of your makeup supplies. 

“He’s filming the Perfect Harmony scene with Madi. We’d have the place to ourselves for at least a few hours.” You paused, considering his offer. 

“Okay.” You replied simply. He cheered. 

“Are you ready to go now?” He asked, standing up, and you nodded. He grinned slightly, pulling you in and kissing you softly. 

“Hi, by the way.” He whispered once he pulled away. You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Let’s just go.” 

You somehow managed to make it off set and back to the building where most of the cast and crew were living without anyone noticing the two of you together.

“What floor?” You asked as you hopped into the elevator.

“6.” He replied, and you pressed the button, riding in silence to his floor. He took your hand, pulling you towards the apartment he shared with Charlie, unlocking the front door and dragging you towards the couch.

“So you mentioned a movie?” You said once the two of you were settled. Owen nodded. 

“I did, what do you wanna watch?” He asked. 

“I actually have a better idea.” You grinned, climbing on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Oh I see.” He replied, grabbing your top and pulling you down to kiss you roughly.

It felt like no time had passed at all when suddenly the front door unlocked.

“Fuck.” You said, jumping off him quickly and settling onto the couch next to Owen, pretending as if you’d been there the whole time. Charlie entered the room, frowning slightly when he saw you sat on the couch.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Charlie questioned, throwing his bag onto the chair. 

“I.. Um...” You stumbled. “I was just leaving.” 

You stood up quickly, thankful that the shoes you wore were slip on’s. 

Charlie eyed Owen carefully as the door shut and Owen shrugged.

“Should I ask?” Charlie questioned. Owen shook his head.

“Nope.”

4. Owen’s Bedroom 

After a couple of close calls on set and in the living room, the next time you came over you and Owen went straight to his room.

He laid down on his bed and you climbed on top of him, kissing him instantly.

“God you’re perfect.” He muttered, lips and tongues combining in a mess of passion and lust. Owen pulled at your shirt, tugging it over your head, and you did the same for him. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking gently to leave a mark.

The front door opened and Owen groaned.

“Shit, is that Charlie?” You asked. He nodded. “What do we do?”

“Uh... get in the closet.” He suggested and you giggled, grabbing onto your shirt so Charlie wouldn’t see it if he came in.

“Owen? You here?” Charlie called, and Owen dragged you into the closet, pulling the door shut behind you.

“Shh.” Owen whispered. You tried to hide your smile.

“I didn’t say anything.” You told him, and he rolled his eyes playfully. The door to Owen’s room opened and the two of you froze, bodies pressed together.

“God I hope that’s your phone pressed against my leg.” You whispered after a moment. Owen pulled a face in the darkness. 

“Uh... no.” He replied, and you giggled awkwardly. 

“Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It is funny. We’re trapped in your closet waiting for Charlie to leave and you still manage to be turned on?” You questioned with a giggle

“I can’t help it when someone as attractive as you is pressed up against me. Plus you don’t have a shirt on so...” He trailed off.

“Oh yeah?” You pressed yourself against his body more forcefully. Owen groaned quietly. 

“Fuck, stop it.” He muttered. You smirked. 

“No.” You whispered, and Owen placed his hands on your waist. 

“Y/N...” His voice was low, and just the sound of it sent flutters through your stomach. 

“Owen...” You replied just as quietly. “Before you ask, I’m not gonna fuck you in a closet.” 

“Why not?” He whined. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t even have to ask that question.” 

The front door slammed shut and Owen let out a sigh of relief, pushing open the closet door. You stepped past him and made your way over to the bed, Pulling your shirt back on before sitting down to pull your shoes on. 

“Wait where are you going?” He questioned, pouting. 

“Back to set, I have a job to do, remember?” You reminded him, tying your laces on your left shoe before reaching for the right. 

“Can’t you call in sick?” He tried. You raised an eyebrow. 

“From my lunch break?” He shrugged. 

“Food poisoning?” 

“Owen.” You gave him a look and he groaned, flopping onto the bed. 

“Fine. But what am I supposed to do about this?” He motioned towards his crotch. You stood up, grabbing your phone, and walked towards the door, pausing before you exited the room. 

“You have a hand. Use it.” And with that, you left. 

+1. Owen and Charlie’s Kitchen 

It was a day off from filming so you decided to have a lazy day. It was almost lunch time when you woke up, and you would have slept longer if it wasn’t for your phone ringing obnoxiously from its spot on your nightstand. 

You rolled over, grabbing the phone and answered without even checking the caller ID. 

“Hello?” You spoke, voice full of sleep. 

“Good morning, Charlie has gone for a hike, wanna come over?” Owen’s voice came through the phone. 

“Sure, why not. Give me half an hour to have a shower and get changed.” You replied, already climbing out of bed. Owen cheered causing you to smile slightly. 

“Awesome, I’ll see you in half an hour.” He said. “And don’t eat anything.” 

“Okay.” You replied, and before you could even say goodbye he had hung up. You rolled your eyes, throwing your phone back onto the bed and grabbing a simple outfit of a crop t-shirt and shorts out of your wardrobe, before heading into the bathroom to get ready. 

25 minutes later you were knocking on the door of Owen and Charlie’s apartment. The door opened, revealing a shirtless Owen, and you had to stop yourself from checking him out as he let you in. 

“Any reason why I wasn’t allowed to eat?” You questioned, following him down the hall into the kitchen. 

“Because, I thought we could make pancakes together.” He gestured to the pile of ingredients sitting on the counter. 

“How domestic. Didn’t realise we had become a married couple.” You teased, and he blushed slightly. 

“I just thought it would be fun.” He defended, and you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be. And delicious.” You agreed.

He grinned, grabbing the ingredients. 

“Let’s get started then.” 

Somehow you found yourself sitting on the counter, eating the batter while Owen cooked the pancakes. 

“There!” Owen exclaimed, flipping the last pancake onto the plate he had gotten out. “All done.” 

He turned to face you, his smile turning into a look of concentration. 

“You have a little something...” He said, positioning himself between your legs. You paused, waiting for him to move. Slowly he lifted his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip.

“Much better.” He muttered. The two of you were still, a stand off to see who would make the first move. You leaned in slowly, connecting your lips in a soft kiss.

It was as if the first brush of your lips opened the floodgates. Owen grabbed onto your thighs, dragging you forward, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the pancakes long forgotten.

You tangled your hands through his hair, moaning slightly when you felt his hands on your ass, and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Hey Owen, I forgot my-” Charlie’s voice came, stopping abruptly as he took in the scene in front of him.

Owen stepped away from you quickly, but even if Charlie hadn’t seen you kissing, it was obvious what the two of you had been up to.

No one blinked. Finally, Owen broke the silence.

“You were meant to be hiking all day.” He said, somewhat defensively.

“I forgot my phone, so I came back for it. I figured you’d be on the couch where I left you. I didn’t realise you’d be...” He stopped, focusing his attention on you. “Hi Y/N.”

You waved awkwardly.

“So...” Charlie looked between you and Owen. “Am I pretending I didn’t see this, or...” He trailed off. 

You and Owen shared a look before nodding.

“Just for now, at least.” You said, and Charlie nodded.

“Got it. Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Oh, and if you have sex on the kitchen counter please clean it afterwards. I eat off that thing.” He winked at Owen and before either of you could respond he had left the room.

“Sorry about him.” Owen sighed slightly.

“You didn’t know he’d leave his phone. Besides, now we can hang out here together and not have to worry about Charlie walking in on something he doesn’t know about.” You replied, and Owen grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You had just started to find a rhythm in kissing again when a cleared throat broke you apart.

“Dude!” Owen exclaimed, glaring at Charlie who was leaning against the wall, grinning cheekily.

“Just wanted to say goodbye. And warn you that I’ll be back at 3, so make sure any... activities-” He winked suggestively. “Are done by then.”

“Get out.” Owen glared at him. Charlie grinned, turning to leave quickly.

“Bye Y/N!” He called back as he left.

“Bye.” You called, giggling slightly.

Owen rolled his eyes as the front door shut behind Charlie. Focusing his attention back on you he smiled slightly.

“Now where were we?” He questioned, pulling you back in and connecting your lips again.

And if you did end up having sex on the kitchen counter, Charlie would never have to know.

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - part 2

Double feature this week. Here we go with part 2. Rowan takes another step on the path of recovering his life.

Also, we get to meet the kids <3

------

When Aelin got home that night after her shift at the hospital, she was tired and not just from the long hours spent in OR. She was tired in her soul. Aelin had managed to keep her thoughts at bay while operating, but as soon as she was out they came back. It had been hard to fight the urge to go and see him again. He wanted space. That was clear so she just went home instead.

Once she crossed the threshold, laughter welcomed her. Her kids sounded happy.

She shed her coat and removed her shoes and followed the happy sounds.

Walking into the kitchen she found her mother cooking and Thomas helping her setting the table and little Freyja banging her plastic cutlery on her high chair. She was a shy girl but would become alive and loud when she was hungry. Just like her mum.

“Mama!” Shouted her daughter as she spotted her.

“Mum,” Thomas echoed his sister and ran to her, hugging Aelin at her knees “hi my darling, how are you?” She kneeled at his height and ruffled his blonde hair.

“Helping grandma cook.”

“Food.” Shouted Freyja who got agitated trying to get the attention of her mother. Aelin went to her daughter and lifted the wee girl in her arms “hi my love,”  and she snuggled her head against her mother’s chest.

“Hi mum,” said Aelin to Evalin. The woman stirred something in the pan and turned to her daughter “welcome back, darling.” She said and her gaze turned worried at her daughter’s tired expression.

Aelin shook her head, knowing what her mother was about to say “later,” she added. She did not want to talk about Rowan in front of the kids.

“Come on Tom, sit at the table. Dinner is ready.” On his grandma’s orders the boy climbed on his chair and started eating his meal.

Aelin joined them a moment later, all changed in house clothes and sat at her daughter’s side.

Thomas was three and had just started learning how to use a fork properly. They would cut the food for him and he would try to use the utensil. Rowan had been teaching him. A pang of sadness hit her and pushed back the tears, now it was not the time. She would feed Freyja who was only eighteen months old.

“Did you help grandma cook?”

The boy nodded while taking a bite from his fork and gave her a big smile. His green eyes lighting up with joy. Eyes just like his father’s.

“Aelin, let me feed Freyja. You have your dinner. You haven’t touched it yet.”

Aelin shook her head “I am fine. It can wait.”

Truth was… she felt nauseous and that feeling had nothing to do with being pregnant. It was fear. Terror of losing Rowan. Terror that he would never recover his memories and her kids would be left without a father and her without her soulmate. She almost lost him once. She would never forget the day she got the call from the hospital. Those horrible moments were forever etched in her memory.

Later on that night, once the kids were in bed Evalin joined her daughter on the sofa and brought her a chamomile tea.

“The kids are asleep. What’s troubling you?”

Aelin sighed and her hand went to her stomach “Rowan woke up.”

“Today?”

She nodded in confirmation and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder “I had just left the OR when I got a page from his doctor. I went to his room and he was awake,” a loud sob broke from her lips “he does not remember me or the kids.”

Evalin pulled her daughter closer and hugged her knowing the pain she had been feeling for the past month “Yrene had told you it might happen.”

Aelin nodded slightly “I didn’t think it could hurt that much. He had no idea who I was. He doesn’t remember our kids.” Her sobs turned into proper crying “I am so scared, mum. So, so scared.”

“I know, darling.” Evalin kissed her daughter’s head “you will have to be strong a bit longer. Does the doctor think he will regain his memory?”

Aelin gave her a small nod “but it might take time and what if he realises that he doesn’t want us in his life anymore?”

“Rowan loves you and the kids madly. The road ahead might be bumpy but he will come back.” A ragged breath escaped from Aelin. She hoped her mother was right, because if she was not she doubted she would survive loosing him a second time.

*

Rowan woke up the next morning with an horrendous headache. He had a fitful sleep and his thoughts had been stuck all night on her. Aelin. His wife. At her side two small shadows representing their kids. In his mind he had this picture of him holding someone, the smell of lemon and verbena strong around him. But he was sure it was more a feeling than an actual memory. He had woken up all of a sudden and hadn’t been able to fall asleep properly since. His body recognised the other one. 

A nurse brought breakfast and of one thing he was sure. He hated hospital food. Which led to another series of questions. What did he eat for breakfast? Was he a good cook? What was his favourite food?

Reluctantly he finished the food on his tray and decided to kill the boredom by watching tv. According to the news it was January and the meteorologist were warning all the citizens of Terrasen of a snowstorm warning.

He was so bored watching the news that he felt glad when Aelin knocked on the doorframe “Mind if I come in?”

He shook his head “is tv always this boring?”

Aelin chuckled and for a second she saw a glimpse of him. He always hated tv. The only reason they had one in the house was because she had pestered him about it “yeah. You find reading more interesting.”

He switched off the television and faced her “I am…”  he sighed “yesterday… I was overwhelmed. It was… it still is too much.”

“I know,”said Aelin trying to suppress the instinct to touch him. Not until he was okay with it.

“Tell me something about me, about my life. Us… anything.” He started, eager to know more. He needed it “do I like breakfast?”

Aelin laughed “you do, and you are a great cook. On Saturdays you always make us pancakes and let Thomas help you flip them.” She smiled at the image. Thomas on his knees on a chair beside his dad.

“You are a healthy eater so you tend to scoff enormous quantities of fruit and veggies while complaining about my crazy dietary habits.”

She was dying to show him pictures of the kids but decided against it. One step at a time. Let him become familiar with the idea of being married first.

“You are a lawyer. A kickass one at that.” His green eyes were trained on her “you and Lorcan opened your own practice. After graduation you two got a job in a fancy company but eventually got tired of dealing with rich bastards and opened a firm that deals mostly with family law but also offers legal support to us common human beings.” She had been so proud of him. The big job had left him miserable and with very little time to live. He had been stressed and after two years he had realised that the huge salary was not worth it. Lorcan had followed him and together they had started their new adventure. They had started small snd simple, but slowly as they took in more cases they had to start hiring more people and the firm had gotten bigger and successful.

“You love hiking, nature in general and winter. We are both in love with theatre and on our first date you took me to a play.”

Rowan looked at her and that tug in his chest came back for a visit.

“We have been married for seven years and you proposed at my best friend’s wedding. We were dancing and you asked me what if we were the next ones to do that? Then you went on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He kept listening, adding some more pieces of info to what he had gathered so far. And the more Aelin spoke the more that connection he had felt the day before grew stronger.

“What type of doctor are you?”

“I am the chief of paediatric neurosurgery and I work two floors above this.”

Rowan took a deep breath and asked a question that had been burning in him since she has appeared “do you have any photos of us, of the kids?”

Aelin felt like crying and extracted her mobile phone and scrolled through her huge quantity of photos “This is Thomas. He is three.”

Rowan looked at the boy and saw a blond mop of hair just as golden as his mother’s and two striking green eyes just like his. In the photo the boy was laughing while he held him in his arms.

Aelin swiped and the image of a little girl appeared and he gasped. There was no doubt that she was his daughter. Her hair was silver as his and even her eyes were the exact copy.

“She is so much like you.” He noticed the smile appearing on Aelin’s face. While she talked about their life her face had lit up and in front of him he had the most stunning woman he had ever seen. Probably. He wasn’t sure but Aelin took his breath away.

“Are we happy? As a family?”

Aelin nodded without even thinking about it. They were, she had no doubts about it “Yes. We wanted a family, kids. It was our choice.”

Rowan nodded and wanted to believe her, needed to believe the passion and the love in her voice.

“I need time.” He said quietly, averting his gaze from hers for just a brief moment “This is a lot that I need to process. I will need time but I want to hear more.”

Aelin sobbed and grabbed her backpack and extracted another mobile phone “this is yours. It survived the crash because you used a military grade protecting cover. I just charged it. The password is 0305.” She gave him the mobile “it has photos, texts. Everything is still there, maybe it will help.”

Aelin looked at her watch and stood “I have to go, I have a surgery in two hours.”

Rowan nodded.

“You can text me if you want. My contact is under Fireheart.”

He looked at the phone and then at her “will you come back?”

Aelin took a step toward him and kissed his silver hair as she did the previous day and then nodded.

She waved at him and disappeared through the door.

He moved his attention to the phone and tried to figure out how to switch it on. Once he did it asked him a pin code and he entered the digits she had told him.

Once the phone was unlocked he was welcomed by a picture of him, Aelin and the kids on a beach. He had Freyja on his shoulders and was laughing as she patted his head. Aelin was holding Thomas potato sack style and the boy was grinning. With his fingers he traced her face and then went looking for the photo album. Before opening he hesitated. His life, his memories were there and he was scared.

There were picture of his wife. Plenty of them and she always had an amazing smile. Of one thing he was sure:Aelin took his breath away. Photos of their kids and he spotted one of what he suspected was a newborn Freyja. He held the little bundle in his arms while Thomas was at his side staring at his sister. He saw happiness, he saw joy, but most of all he saw love. Deep love that bound the four of them. Aelin had not lied. They seemed happy. He found photos of what he assumed were friends but he could not tell who they were, he hadn’t covered that part yet. Accepting the idea of a wife and kids was hard enough. He was not ready yet to add more people. The mere idea made him feel dizzy.

He was getting tired again even if it was only morning, but he pushed through and found the app with the text messages and went to look at the ones from Aelin and he read the last one she sent him go and win your case and then tonight I will show you how proud I am of my sexy lawyer.

He scrolled back through the thread and read random texts between them until he went back a few months and saw a text with a picture attached.

You are away for work and I miss you. I went for my first proper check-up and I am proud to share with you the picture of the new member of our family. The image was greyish and grainy but the message was clear: Aelin was pregnant again.

He placed the phone on his lap and closed his eyes calming the sense of panic overwhelm him.

And with his eyes closed he tried to remember.

[jay-and-dean]

Don’t look down, Baby   Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary :  Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic. 

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89​

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

 Dean’s POV

           I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

           He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

           He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

           I had it all planned.

           But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

           And that guy is no Robert…

           His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

           Abe.

           Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

           Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

           He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

           Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

           She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

           He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

           I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

 Reader’s POV

           I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

           I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

           The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

           The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

           It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

           Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

 September 21, 08:12pm

 “That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

           While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

           I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

           A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

           I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

 Dean’s POV

           That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

           This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

           Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

           I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

           I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

           Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

           I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

 September 21, 11:49pm

 Reader’s Pov

           He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

           My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

           Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

           I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

           Come already.

           I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

           When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

           Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

           He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

           He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

           Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

 Dean’s Pov

           Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

           I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

           Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

 September 28, 06:05pm

             Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

           But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

           You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

           All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

           Ew.

           Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

           I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

           But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

           She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

 Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

           When did we become like this ?

           After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

           I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

           I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

           I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

           He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

           And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

           My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

           I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

           A call.

           So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

           I can resist him. I can.

           I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

           As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

           I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

           And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

           I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

           When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

           My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

           He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

           He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

           That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

           His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

           And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

           I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

           I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

           My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

           I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

           He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

           And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

 Dean's Pov

           She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

           I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

           When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

           She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

      ��    Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

           Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

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