#I spent so much time looking up if gunshots can break your jaw off

[sketchy-idiot]

Did a re-draw of the three cheers for sweet revenge album turned out sick there’s a more gore heavy version under the cut

[dreamwritesimagines]

Caught in the Fire 23 - Aftermath [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves ❤ Here’s the new chapter, I hope you like it and please don’t forget to tell me what you think of it! kisses!❤

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Aftermath of a break up is never easy.

Warnings: Violence, death, crime, explicit language, dysfunctional relationships, drinking, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You had never been the type to deal with break ups easily, but this?

This was something else, and he wasn’t making it any easier for you.

It had taken you a couple of days. Now, even a month later, you found it hard to get out of the bed or keep yourself together but at least now you weren’t bursting into tears while you were working, which all your friends said was a good improvement.

They didn’t need to know that you spent almost every night crying yourself to sleep.

Bucky, however? He had a whole different approach to this break up.

The whole city was aware of it, because overnight, it had turned into the goddamn Wild West. Everyone who was aware of the power dynamics of the city was on edge, and every newcomer was warned not to wander off into the specific parts of the city. Each night, you could hear gunshots, police sirens and at least twice a week you drove through some kind of a crime scene or walked over the blood splatters that couldn’t be washed off the night before.

The turf war –or something worse- was slowly taking over the city, and everyone tried to get out of the way before it killed them too.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up and you looked over your shoulder, blinking back the tears, willing yourself to come back to the present.

“Yeah?”

Josh licked his lips, “Um—I have to call my girlfriend, it’s urgent. Can you cover the register for a minute? I mean no one is here yet but…”

“Sure, is she okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah she’s fine, her brother had this appendicitis thing, she spent the night at the hospital.”

“Shit— yeah, call her!” you nodded. “Tell her she can let us know if she needs anything.”

“Thanks,” he said and walked outside from the back door, and you left the kitchen to walk to the register. It was still early in the morning - very early, so there were no customers and you pulled out a cup to fill yourself some coffee.

The wind bells by the door chimed, making you turn your head and put the coffee down and the blond man approached the register.

“Hi there,” he said. “Can I get some coffee? On the go.”

“Sure thing,” you said, and took a paper cup from the shelf. “Milk or sugar?”

“Sugar,” he said and chuckled. “As sweet as you, I’d say.”

You looked over your shoulder and repressed the urge to roll your eyes, then put the paper cup in front of him and smiled sweetly at him.

“Will that be all, officer?”

He blinked a couple of times, as if he was taken aback by you being able to tell an undercover cop but in all honesty, growing up with Bucky had made you more open to noticing any small details like these.

And it wasn’t as if he had put too much effort into this clumsy effort of looking like a civilian.

“Barnes trained you well,” he commented, making your jaw clench for a second before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Grew up in a bad neighborhood,” you corrected him and he took a sip of his coffee.

“John Walker,” he introduced himself and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re not going to tell me your name?”

“I’m pretty sure you know it already.”

He held up his hands. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Couldn’t you, though?

“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions,” he said. “About your boyfriend.”

Your stomach dropped. “Ex-boyfriend.”

“Right,” he snapped his fingers, “Ex-boyfriend. So I take it there’s no reason for either of us to play dumb, you know about his line of work?”

“Of course,” you said. “He’s a businessman, but I can’t see how I can help you with that.”

He tilted his head.

“He’s a businessman,” he repeated. “How about what his father left him?”

“You mean the family company?”

His gaze was almost reprimanding on you.

“Uh huh. Why did you say you broke up again?”

“I didn’t.”

“Do you really want me to bring you down to the station, sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” the words left your lips almost easily. “And you’re going to take me to the station to ask me about my relationship?”

“Your relationship with a very dangerous man,” he stated. “Things could get really bad for you if you don’t answer my questions.”

You raised your brows, then shrugged your shoulders.

“He uh… he cheated on me,” you said after a beat. “Not much of a relationship material, that one.”

“And you’re protecting the man who broke your pretty little heart?”

You sipped your coffee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, officer,” you stated. “The last time I checked, being a cheater wasn’t illegal.”

He heaved a sigh, leaning his palm on the counter to lean in slightly.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but—“ he said, “Isn’t this the second guy who cheated on you? One would think you can’t keep ‘em happy, huh?”

You could feel the anger spreading through you. He was trying to provoke you, you knew he was, but you managed to repress the fury burning your throat, and shrugged your shoulders again.

“Are we done here?”

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he said, making you arch a brow. “Speaking of your ex-boyfriend, any idea where he is? We’d like to question him too.”

“No idea. I don’t keep tabs on my exes.”

“And his brother? He was less than willing when I asked him about his…accident.”

Of course he was. Paul was an asshole, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“I’m afraid I can’t be much of a help about that one either.”

He looked you in the eye, as if trying to figure out your motives before he heaved a sigh.

“Well,” he said and put his card on the counter, “Give me a call if you change your mind. In case you want to take revenge.”

He walked to the door but stopped when you called out his name.

“Officer Walker?”

He turned around. “Yes?”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowed as you locked your gaze on him.

“Be careful out there,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips. “It’s a dangerous city.”

He could recognize the veiled threat, you knew he would, but he didn’t comment on it as he nodded at you, then walked out of the bakery. You gritted your teeth, then scrunched up the card to toss it into the garbage can before taking a sip of your coffee.

                                               *

The bakery was buzzing by the lunch time, but you could hardly focus on anything other than what had happened in the morning. A part of you –no matter how angry you were at Bucky- wanted to warn him but on the other hand, he had ripped out your heart so understandably you didn’t want to call him.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

You raised your head and a small smile pulled at your lips when you saw Alex staring at you.

“I own the place,” you managed to joke. “What’s your excuse?”

“No I mean,” Alex motioned around. “You’re usually in the back.”

“Yeah!” you said, “My uh…my cousin, he had this thing, he had to go and see his girlfriend. Family emergency kind of deal.”

“So you’re covering both the kitchen and the register?”

“I can’t exactly cover the kitchen right now, I’ll probably just close up the shop early,” you said. “It’s fine. At least it gives me more time to go home and watch Titanic for the hundredth time.”

Alex narrowed his eyes at you, then went under the counter to get behind the register next to you.

“Uh- hello customer, what are you doing?” you asked with a laugh and he wiggled his brows.

“Helping you. I can deal with the register.”

“You want to work at the register,” you said. “You?”

“Yeah I mean, the school is closed for the summer for the last two weeks,” he said, “In case it has escaped your notice.”

“And here I was wondering why Emma went to that summer camp on a school week. That explains stuff.”

“So I could use an extra gig,” he pointed out, mirroring your grin. “For the day, it is. If you’d be so kind to employ me.”

“Alex—“

“You have a spare apron? A name tag? Can I put a fake name on the name tag?”

“Do you even know how the register works?”

“Mm hm. Thanks to my mom.”

“Wasn’t your mom a teacher?”

“Well yeah,” he said, “But she always said I should learn something new every summer so one summer I worked at a diner.”

You shot him a look. “You’re sweet, but I can’t accept this.”

“Well too bad because I employed myself here.”

“Alex.”

“You can pay me with cookies. Cupcakes if I do a good job,” he smiled sweetly, making you let out a giggle despite you trying to contain it. He offered his hand to you.

“Deal, boss?”

“You’re something else, I swear,” you murmured and shook his hand, “Fine. You’re hired for the day.”

“Great! So about that apron—“

“Y/N?”

Becca’s familiar voice made you turn around and you could feel your stomach drop. You had no idea what Bucky had told her, but it felt as if Becca had been trying her hardest to stay away from your way. She hadn’t dropped by the bakery in the last month, neither had Bucky or Steve, but you knew they couldn’t stay away forever.

It was the neutral ground after all.

“Becca,” you managed to smile. “Uh…hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled back but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Sure. Can I get a coffee and a chocolate chip cookie?”

You quickly prepared her order while she went to the far left of the counter, and you walked to place it in front of her.

“There you go.”

She nibbled on her lip, then stole a look at you.

“Um…How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “You?”

“I’m good,” she said. “You know. Considering. How’s Emma?”

“She’s fine, thank you for asking.”

She pursed her lips.

“I wanted to come by sooner,” she said. “But I figured maybe you didn’t want to see anyone with my surname.”

You paused for a moment, then shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“Are you though?”

Your throat tightened but you managed to keep your expression nonchalant.

“People break up,” you said. “It’s okay. I have no grudges against you. Or—or anyone, really. I just want to put that behind me, that’s it.”

Becca didn’t need to hear how you cried yourself to sleep every night, after all.

“Oh well, I suppose you have a healthier coping mechanism than him.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh. “What’s he coping with?” you asked. “It was his decision.”

A shadow crossed Becca’s eyes and she nodded.

“Right,” she said. “Yeah. Don’t mind me.”

You lingered there for a moment, trying to make up your mind about whether to tell her, but you knew you couldn’t keep it a secret.

No matter how much you hated him.

“Becca, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she said quickly. “Just say the word.”

You looked around but there were way too many people in the bakery and you couldn’t afford to be overheard, so you grabbed a paper and pen, then scribbled down the code Bucky had taught you years ago.

Rabid hound, no leash.

You pushed the paper in her direction and she took it to skim the lines, then cussed under her breath.

Of course Becca knew. Everyone in the business knew the code; aggressive cop, undercover.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her jaw clenched and you nodded.

“Yeah. Today.”

“Any bites?”

“None. Looking for a scent though.”

She clicked her tongue, then pushed the paper into her pocket.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll make sure to warn others.”

You nodded again and Becca tilted her head.

“You know you didn’t have to tell me, right?” she asked, making you scoff. “Anyone else would’ve jumped on the opportunity for revenge.”

“You know me better than that. So does he.”

She dragged her tongue over her teeth as if she was analyzing you, then shook her head.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she said. “Mom couldn’t be more wrong.”

You arched a brow. “Why?”

“Loyalty despite heartbreak,” she commented. “It’s not something that can be taught or bought, you have it or you don’t. I don’t care what my mother thinks, you were born for this.”

“Don’t get me wrong, but I hope the fuck not.”

She let out a bitter laugh, “Either way, thank you. On his behalf.”

Your stomach flipped. “I’m not doing it for him.”

“I know,” she said and eyed you up and down. “You’ve heard what they say on the streets, haven’t you?”

You had. Of course you had, that rumor followed Bucky’s name or his brand new nickname, anyone who was aware of the change the city was going through had heard it.

A simple explanation, but a wrong one in your opinion.

“I thought you didn’t listen to rumors.”

“It has some truth to it though, wouldn’t you say?” Becca said with a sad smile. “Bucky Barnes has lost his anchor, and he’s taking it out on the city.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, and offered her a small smile.

“Enjoy your coffee, Becca,” you said and walked past Alex, and pushed the door open to enter the kitchen.

                                              *

Alex being there was like a fresh breath of air, especially after weeks of forcing yourself to get through the day at work. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t have to drag yourself to get through with the day, and you barely noticed the closing time had come.

“You’re joking!” you exclaimed, letting out a laugh and Alex shook his head, clutching his stomach, trying to control his laughter.

“Nope.”

“You actually-“

“In my defense, I was sixteen!” he said, “Not all of us were smart and calm at sixteen!”

“You asked a girl out by serenading her,” you said, desperate to breathe through laughter, “With a guitar. In the cafeteria.”

“Yeah and she rejected me.”

You gasped, “No!”

“Yep. In front of people and everything.”

“Ouch,” you licked your lips, “Sorry to hear that Romeo.”

“I was a romantic back then,” he said with a grin. “My theory is that my mom made me watch too many rom-coms. No one actually taught me how to ask girls out, so my only guide were rom com movies.”

“Your dad?”

“Died before I was born.”

You hissed in a breath. “My condolences.”

“It’s okay,” he waved a hand in the air. “That’s actually um - that’s kind of why I came over to say hi that day we met. Em was giving you a hard time and I thought…”

“Oh my God she was crying so hard at that café, I remember!” you said, “And thank you, you were such a great help that day.”

“Don’t even mention it. I’m a little familiar with how hard it is to raise a kid alone and I actually thought—”

“That I was her mom?”

“Yep.”

“You and the rest of the town for some reason.”

“Yeah what’s that about? I’ve heard some moms talk about it.”

“They think she’s my and Bucky’s illegitimate child,” you said, waving a hand in the air and he raised his brows.

“Please. Emma is too nice to be Barnes’s kid.”

“Or mine,” you pointed out and he raised his brows.

“I disagree. You’re not half bad if I do say so myself.”

A small giggle escaped from your mouth. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Hey, be glad I don’t burst into a song, you’ve just heard about that story—“ he started but the sound of the door opening diverted your attention. You turned your head to say you were closed, but as soon as you saw the figure by the door, your smile faded, your heart starting to pace in your chest.

Bucky.

He was here.

You could feel your throat tightening at the sight of him, memories rushing into your mind, making it hard for you to even breathe. Even though your body craved his presence and to be close to him, your heart felt as if it would leap out of your chest, anger spreading through your system.

It wasn’t supposed to be possible to want him and hate him at the same time.

He lingered there for just a moment before he pulled himself together, his brows furrowing at the sight of Alex and his eyes went from him to you. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head and he scoffed.

“Cute,” he commented, his voice bitter as he nodded at Alex. “Leave.”

“Alex, stay,” you said, not even averting your gaze from him. “He’ll ask nicely if he wants you to leave.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“I’ll stay if you want me to,” Alex told you and Bucky’s jaw clenched, looking at you expectantly before he heaved a sigh.

“I need to talk to you, okay?”

You crossed your arms, shrugging your shoulders before he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“For fuck’s sake—Alex, will you please give us a moment?” he spat and Alex turned to look at you.

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mm hm.”

“I’ll be right outside, just in case,” Alex pointed out and stepped out of the bakery as Bucky took a step closer to you. You kept your glare on him, leaning your back to the counter, your arms still closed.

“What do you want?”

Bucky pressed his lips together, staring at you before he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the thoughts.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?” you repeated and he licked his lips.

“I uh…” he cleared his throat, “I got your note.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I tried to call you,” he said. “But I… did you block my number?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I did. I thought it was enough of a message but I guess not.”

He swallowed thickly. “Um—how have you been?”

You arched a brow, staying quiet.

“How’s Emma?”

“Emma is none of your concern,” the simple sentence came out like a threat and he bit inside his cheek.

“I heard Sarah talking about the next year tuition, if you need—“

“I’d rather die than ask you for help,” you cut him off. “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Peaches—”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

That seemed to make him pause and he took a deep breath.

“An undercover cop came here?”

“Yeah and he has nothing, he’s just looking for clues. I thought the note was clear enough, didn’t think I’d have to see you for a brainstorming session.”

“You have a name?”

“What, did you lose your sources in police or something? John Walker.”

“John Walker,” he repeated the name, texting someone before looking up from his phone. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you tell him anything?”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean you….you could’ve. No one would blame you.”  

“Jesus Christ, you really didn’t bother getting to know me at all, did you?” you asked. “I don’t know what I’m like in your imagination, but just because I hate your guts doesn’t mean I’ll betray my principles. It doesn’t work that way. I get why it’s confusing for you though.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“Either way…” he said. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

You nodded your head, offering him a humorless smile. “Go fuck yourself James.”

He scoffed, a shadow crossing his eyes but you kept your glare on him.

“Good night Y/N,” he muttered softly before he walked out of the bakery and you felt your throat tightening as you blinked back the tears.

“What was that about?” Alex asked when he entered the bakery and you tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Nothing important.”

“You sure?” he said. “I mean…Y/N, don’t get me wrong but why would you still want to talk to him?”

You took a deep breath, then tried to smile.

“We have history,” you murmured. “That’s it, there’s nothing more to it.”

Chapter 24

[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

did i just bingeread everything you posted? absolutely. do i regret it. absolutely not. ✨you are an amazing writer!!!💕 And while we’re at it can i request a scenario where Niragi goes crazy and scares his s/o really bad but he gets kinda soft and tries to comfort them later? If that makes sense haha And also a giant thank you for writing in gender neutral!!🥺💕

Thank you so much for reading my fics! I’m honestly really flattered haha 😅 Here is you’re request!

Comfort From A Tormentor | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC)

Summary: Niragi tries to comfort you, his S/O, after you witnessed his murderous behaviour for the first time

Warnings: toxic relationship, blood, murder, graphic violence, pushy behaviour, reader watches someone being killed, going into shock, panic attack, quite intense trauma, slight abuse of power

Word Count: 2.4k

*reader is gender-neutral

You always knew that Niragi wasn’t the kindness at The Beach, which was quite blatantly obvious. When people heard you guys had gotten together and were now in an established relationship, you had many people express their concerns privately with you, labelling him as an evil and violent character. You always shook it off, because you’d seen nothing of the sort during the time you had spent with him.

The worst you ever saw him say or do was a threat, or a short punch to the ribs as a warning, but even then the victims usually deserved it. You hadn’t experienced one of Niragi’s ‘outbreaks’ that people have discussed with you about. You started to believe it was all rumours to keep you away from him until he lost it one night in front of you, causing you to believe everything you had been told about him.

It was a usual night at The Beach, people parading around the pool and filling their brains and sinuses with alcohol, allowing them to forget their shared hardships for the evening.

You sat in a small booth that was excluded from the rest of the crowd. Your head was leaning on Niragi’s broad shoulder as you watched everyone dance to the blaring music. You felt the bass vibrate through the ground and in your chest, making you excited from the fun atmosphere.

Niragi lifted his hand and pet your head softly. “You okay little mouse?” he checked, bringing his face closer to yours and placing his lips on your cheek. You turned your head towards him and brushed your lips on his. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you whispered. Niragi smirked and rubbed his hand along your bare leg. “We can go to bed soon, let’s just stay a little longer.”

Niragi shifted underneath you and stood up, making you lean back against the cushioned backrest. “I’m going to get a drink,” he stated bluntly before picking up his rifle from the small table that sat in front of you. “Don’t let anyone touch you otherwise you’ll regret it.”

You felt uneasy at his threat, but you knew if you just listened to him he would never carry through his brutal promises. He wasn’t that hard of a personality to figure out.

You watched as he strolled away towards the bar, leaving you by yourself and cold in the booth. You moved your eyes from him and looked around to everyone else, watching a few people jump into the pool and laugh together. You wished Niragi had less of a important placing at The Beach so he could relax like everyone else instead of constantly having to deal with stupid drunken dickheads causing trouble.

You looked over towards the bar again to see if you could spot Niragi, but couldn’t see him from where you were sitting. You needed to go to the bathroom and you were wondering if you could make it before he returned. You shrugged your shoulders and stood up on your feet to leave. It wouldn’t be that long, and besides if he did some back to you not being there, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s just the bathroom.

You quickly made your way past the few crowds of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled your nostrils as you pushed through, making your face scrunch up in disgust. No matter how long you spend there, you would never grow used to the party smell.

You made your way to the lobby to get to the bathroom located there. It was a quiet walk and hardly anyone was in the halls. It made you more calm, knowing that no one was around to bring you a hard time.

But unfortunately, you thought too soon. As you arrived at the lobby and were crossing the main lounge area, a young man with jet black hair and blue board shorts stood up from one of the couches. You failed to notice him earlier due to him being hidden behind the backrest.

“Oh hey!” he exclaimed your way excitedly. “I thought you’d come here. I saw you drink a rather large cocktail earlier so I just guessed you’d show up some time soon or later.”

You froze in shock, looking the man up and down with confusion written on your face. “What?”

He shook his head as he slowly made his way over to your frame. “Forget it. I wanted to get you away from your psychotic side piece so I could get a chance with you without being killed.” His smile was a bit too creepy for your liking, bringing an unpleasant tingling feeling up your back.

You stepped back as he attempted to reach out and grab your hand. He slowly recoiled with a frown on his tanned face. You shook your head and hands, denying his movements towards you. “No thanks actually. I’m not interested,” you insisted, turning your back to try and escape into the bathroom.

You felt your heart drop from the sudden grip on your wrist, pulling you back towards the annoying man and into his chest. He lifted your chin so you were looking at him and crashed his lips onto yours.

You panicked, ripping your arm out of his grip and pushing him away from you. He stumbled back a bit before smirking at your angered expression.

“What the fuck was that?!” you screamed at him, wiping his saliva off of your mouth in disgust. “Did no one ever teach you what no means?!”

Before the man could respond, a piercing sound of gunshots rang through the room. You covered your ears and dropped to the ground in fear of being hit. You looked towards the man and saw him crouching as well with a few bullet marks scattering the carpet around him. They barely missed him.

You kept your head down low in case of another load being shot at any moment, but you were grabbed by your upper arm and pulled up roughly after a few short moments. Niragi stood there, angered expression on his face and tightening his grip on your arm. You felt your blood pumping with adrenaline from his movements.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he hissed into your face, being way too quiet for your liking.

You didn’t know what to say. Your words were trapped in your throat, being held there by the shock of the gunshots and Niragi’s anger towards you.

“I told you to not let anyone touch you. And how hard is it to stay in one place for five minutes?!” His fist moved from your arm to your jaw, holding it tightly so you would face him. Tears were developing in your eyes. You tried to stop them from rolling down your cheeks in fear of angering Niragi more, but the pain throbbing in your jaw made it nothing but more difficult. This wasn’t the Niragi you knew. He’s never laid a violent hand on you before.

“Niragi, stop,” you whimpered out, holding onto his wrist that was hurting you. “It hurts.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be hurt after not listening to me.” Niragi finally released his grip from your jaw. You dropped to the ground, clutching your face in pain and letting out quiet sobs. The look in his eyes was menacing, making him seem unpredictable. You were terrified, pushing your legs against the carpet to separate yourself from his tall frame.

You watched as he turned away from you and walked towards the young man, who scrambled to his feet to try and run away. But Niragi leaped towards him and grabbed his shoulder before he could do so. He pulled him back harshly onto the ground and placed a boot on his chest, keeping him there. The man struggled until Niragi held the barrel of his gun against his forehead, making the petrified man freeze underneath him.

You watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed harder and harder on his bare chest, making the defenseless man cry out in fear of breaking a rib. “You’ve made a huge mistake my friend,” he growled, sticking his tongue out and showing off his piercing. “You dare touch what’s mine, you suffer the consequences.”

You leant up against the concrete wall, feeling too weak and in shock to stand up. You cried and screamed as you watched Niragi stamp his foot incredibly harshly on the man’s head several times. Blood poured down the side of his face and he put his hands up in defense, which deemed useless against Niragi’s strength. Niragi didn’t stop, moving his aim from the man’s face to his chest, hands, stomach, groin and thighs. His screams of pain and suffering echoed around the room, ringing in your ears and making your heart ache. Yes, he did attempt to force himself onto you, but hearing another human screeching out for help when you could do nothing was one of the most painful things you could ever inflict on an empath such as yourself.

You shook violently and covered your eyes with your hands, not wanting to see anymore. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate into the wind. You wanted to wake up back at home, in your safe warm bed from before the Borderland. You felt sick from the contrasting differences between the world in your head and the one you were physically in. Why couldn’t you just fade away?

You felt a presence in front of your shivering form, and you slowly peeled away your hands to reveal the abuser in front of you, looking into your eyes worryingly. Your stomach dropped from catching a glimpse of the blood splattered lightly across his attractive features. You felt nausea building in your stomach, making you want to throw up.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Niragi lifted a hand and tried to place it on your cheek, but you flinched away violently and screamed as you crawled onto your hands and knees, attempting to quickly escape him. It was deemed almost impossible to do considering the emotional state you were in at that moment. You just watched your lover beat a man until the light left his eyes, you weren’t going to recover from the shock quickly.

You cried as he grabbed your ankle and roughly pulled you back. You struggled against his grip and tried to shake his hands off of your shoulders and waist desperately. You were terrified that he was going to hurt you, beat you until you were dead just like his other victim.

“Baby! Why are you so scared?! Hold still!” Niragi cried, attempting to hold your thrashing body against his to quiet you down. He was feeling desperate and helpless, what was happening to you? You’ve never done this before. He thought maybe you were in shock and thinking that he was the man trying to force himself on you.

“Y/N! It’s me! I’m here, you’re okay!” he cried in a frightened tone. He managed to pull you roughly by your waist into his lap and held the back of your head against his chest area. He began to shake himself, being so worried about your emotional state. He felt you suddenly stop struggling in his arms, hearing your soft sobs of fear against his shirt.

“What’s going on baby? You’re scaring me,” he groaned into your neck. You shivered against him, feeling too weak to even push yourself from his chest. You could do nothing but sit in his lap, terrified of the man who was attempting to comfort you.

“It’s okay. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he cooed, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm your rapid breathing. He let out a shaky breath, being on the verge of tears. He felt his heart rapidly pumping in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. He was at least comforted at the fact that you were back in his arms, away from everyone and everything that wanted to separate you from him.

He leaned his head back and looked at your face tucked into his chest. He saw your tight hands scrunching his black and white button-up into themselves, making him feel soft at how vulnerable and small you looked.

“It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

You tried to level your breathing, listening to Niragi’s heartbeat to focus on something else other than the fact that he had just murdered someone in front of you.

Everything everyone had said was true. Niragi was purely an evil person, filled to the brim with violence and murderous impulses. You repented your doubts so badly, wishing that you had listened. But you chose to give him a chance to be a good person for once in his life, and he threw it out the window. Only now, you couldn’t escape him. You had to now live with being the object of a murderer’s desires.

You felt Niragi snake his arms underneath your knees and shoulders gently, standing up from the ground with you in his arms. You clutched onto him from around his neck, tears still slowly travelling down your face.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm? My little baby must be so tired after all that.”

‘After all that’. He said it like it was nothing more than a bad day. Your boyfriend just killed someone in front of you and then just forced you back into his arms. This wasn’t a bad day, it was a traumatic experience that would stay with you for the rest of your life, remembering every detail and image of the event vividly.

“Niragi,” you mumbled. He glanced down to your weak frame, face going soft from the tired expression across your features. “Shh, don’t speak. Just go to sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t want him to be there when you woke. In fact, you didn’t want to wake up at all. You felt miserable and defenseless in his arms, wishing for nothing more than to wake up and for it to be all some horrific dream.

But you didn’t wake up, because it was your reality. Niragi’s delusional, obsessive and abusive mindset was nothing new anymore, it was normal everyday life for you from then on.

[thefanbasewhore]

The Weeping.

Prompt no. 4 from @wkemeup 's 9k challenge! - Character A is being held hostage. Character B offers to trade themselves in A's place.

master list || tag list

Summary || After you're taken from a mission, Bucky offers himself in order to insure your safety.

Paring || Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count || 1,660

Warnings || abduction (kidnapping??), violence, gun-fire, mentions dead bodies and blood, angst.

Side note || clear eyes is Bucky and yours way of saying everything is okay and this is shorter then I intended it to be, I didn't have a lot of time to write it, so if it seems rushed, I'm sorry.

The mission was supposed to be simple - a quick in and out, retrieve the information and burn that place to the ground but even that seemed unattainable at the moment.

Bullets whiz through the air, penetrating the barrier of sound that make Bucky's ears ring. To anyone else it is frightening, usually follows screams of terror but it's something he lives for, the only familiar sound to stay with him constantly through the years. Adrenaline makes his body visibly tremble, chest conforming to laboring breath in order to stay quiet. Those crystal blue orbs narrowing, fine wrinkles bunch on the skin of his forehead as he nods towards you, on the opposite side of the room but still in his peripheral vision.

He nods once more - just to ensure that the hallway is clear. His heart is thumping against his chest right along with your own, fingers clenched the butt of your to bring it closer to your chest, raising it as Bucky moves in front of you with his own. The walls are splattered with red, fresh blood as you maneuver through the corpses' that lifelessly scatter the floors and the dark hallway seems almost endless, except the flickering light at the end of it. With every muffled gunshot it turns into darkness only to be unexpectedly brought to life again. "Stay low.." Bucky whispers as he follows your stance - back against the wall and a free hand reaching for the spare knife hidden in both of your boots but not before he extends his arm and fingers grasp the buckle across your chest with a gentle but meaningful pull, "Clear eyes?" "Clear eyes." Bucky nods softly as the cool vibranium finger sculpts the structure of your jaw with twinkling eyes. "Be careful in there, okay? You need anything --." He taps the shell of his ear with two fingers, and you nod in understanding. With one last glance Bucky turns towards the double doors, a hand pressing against the handle as he uses his body weight to push it open with ease and the moment he does more gunfire echoes the walls of the room. A sudden blur of motion catches his attention as his breath hitches as his arms wrap around you as bullets whiz through the air, only inches away from piercing your skin. Bucky uses the other door as cover as metal bullets ricochet. Smaller fingers clench into his flesh arm, forming indentations of small crescent moons as a means to seek cover. Bucky's arms wrap around you pulling you into his chest to shield you from any stray bullets but the heavy door behind his back is a strong enough metal to take the blunt force of the bullets without breaking through. His soothing hands find your hair, breathing heavily as he angles your face to meet his eyes. "Are you okay?" Your throat tightens at his worried expression but nods to confirm you were not hit. Bucky nods back, eyes setting in a hard line as he keeps you between his legs but peers over the threshold of the floor but a warning short from around the corner bounces off the walls. "Fuck." Bucky whispers as he reaches into the pocket of his tactical pants, but you don't need to look to see what he's got. "I'll go up the stairs, you go to the right." He pulls the pin out, rolling it into the room and waits until a thick, white cloud of smoke fills the hall, with one last nod he pulls his glasses down, fingers tapping the side as they click to life. You follow behind, gun raised in the air as you follow through sweeping the rather large room. The smoke is thick - suffocating, throat closing due to the inadequate amounts of oxygen, but you swallow the ball in the back of your throat while trying to maneuver through it, the glasses didn't help much. Footsteps cause you to jump, turning in every direction but the cloud is too thick and they near closer following along with your frantic motions to protect yourself with a mixture of anxiety and fear coarse through your veins. Something is mumbled to your right but it's too late, two rather large hands roughly grab at your hair, pulling it into a tight fist as another set of hands catch your leg - pulling into your fall onto the ground, hitting your head hard enough that dark, round dots cloud your vision. Before you could even manage to move - the cool surface of a blade touches your neck and your raise your hands in surrender as the weight of the man moves to crush your chest, face still veiled behind the white smoke. Without a word he turns you around, pressing your cheek against the floor with a rough hand as he pats down your suit, pulling the knives out with a snarl as his friend picks up your gun. 'Sweetheart, where are you?' Bucky's voice is muffled from the fact that the man's hand presses against it, but it vibrates his skin and it's yanked from your ear and crushed between two fingers. When the smoke dissipates the man brings you

to your knees, hands wrapped around your wrists with an unforgiving knee digging into your spine. "If you want her alive, come out now." A thick, foreign accent bounces off the walls of the room as the hand tightens, the other goon on your right holds your gun up as a blur moves in the corner of your eyes. Bucky's eyes meet yours in a panic as he rounds the corner, raising his gun to the man that holds your hair which only causes him to say something in a foreign language, digging the knife into your throat until it stings with pain. Every ragged breath the sharpened blade nicks the thickest column of your neck. "Let her go." Bucky hisses through clenched teeth, jaw clenching as seafoam eyes darken like the night sky. The man smiles evilly, a sick grin that reaches his eyes, makes Bucky's stomach drop inside his stomach as he twirls the knife around a dirty, unmanicured finger. "Didn't think we'd recognize you with that haircut, Soldat?" The skin of your neck burns as a yelp of pain fills the room, blood smears his fingers and invades your senses and the words make Bucky's eyes narrow, squeezing them shut at the words. The smell of smoke, gunfire and metallic make your head spin as Bucky lowers the gun to the ground, hands raised in the air. "Take me, let her go." "What use do we have for you now, Soldat? You are no longer our winter soldier; they have rid you of that." The man's sick chuckle causes him to shake his head, eyes wild with paralyzing fear. "That's not true - I feel him, he's still in here." He pauses, guilty eyes flicker to your own and back up the to man's, "Just let her go, don't hurt her." "No, no." You manage to mumble, tears stinging the waterline of your eyes as you grit your teeth in pain, he never lets the pressure of the knife go as you try to suppress a shiver. Bucky lowers his head with shame, in complete defeat as he lowers to his knees and moves the gun further away. "He's still in here. You can get him out. Take me instead of her, please." "Stop, no!" Eyes of guilt refuse to meet your own, the secret you have known all along and Bucky's urge to smother the winter solider completely blinded him from the fact that this could happen someday. It's been years since he's been so called 'freed' but some roots are so deep they can't be removed, the inside of his brain still tainted with the dark soldier who refuses to stop haunting him after all this time. "Bucky don't you fucking do it!" Bucky ignores the calls, squeezing his eyes shut with emotion. It's not fair, all those years spent brainwashed, tucked away inside his own brain just to end up there again. He barely survived the trauma then but now - he would never be able to, not without Steve, without the Wakandian's again. "Walk towards me, slowly." The other man commands as Bucky nods an understanding to stand on his feet but pauses as the knife presses into your skin more, "Let her go first." The instant the knife is gone is relief, hand reaching up to rub the burning skin and smear blood against your gloved hand and along your neck. Roughly the knee against your back pushes you from the position of on your knees to leaning against the man for support as his arm crosses against your chest, hand crushing the windpipe of your neck. "I will count to three and you both will walk, you towards me, her out the door. Got it?" With every number your heart pounds inside your chest, face turning red due to the harsh grasp at the surface of jaw as a cough follows suit, chest greedy for oxygen as he releases. Bucky takes the first step forward, edging you closer with his eyes that leave little room for argument. Close, slow steps until both yours and his arm brush against each other The fat of your bottom lip quivers as he leans forwards, hands still raise obediently in the air to press his forehead against your own. "Buck -." "Promise me, you won't come look for me." It is rushed as the men in front of him yell but inaudible as you shake your head as tears push past eyelashes. "I mean it, forget about me, they'll never stop. Okay? No

matter how much I try, they will never leave me alone." "How could you say -." There's a rough tug on his hand, pushing him forward but he uses the last second, he can spare to press one more heartbreaking kiss against your lips and before you could comprehend what coming next - a burning, red-hot pain radiates at the base of your skull and numbing darkness consumes you.

tags: @sugarpunch-princess, @old-enough-to-know-better73, @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals, @Fajitasandfics, @devilswaldorf, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @grubler, @SodDy030, @agent-catfish-kenobi,@scarletglowss, @abitchforbarnes, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @jewishdelis, @klorpski, @kaitieskidmore1, @peterpstuff, @akaaaaashiiii, @angelsandsorcery, @moony-is-bae, @yliumy, @watermelonsponge, @stolenxkissess, @peakascum, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @crvecem, @likealadygodiva, @harrysthiccthighss, @burnerbitchh, @sergeantjamesbbarnes, @amelia-song-pond

[winnisome]

i’m okay.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: after spencer finds himself in a dangerous situation on a case, the reader is filled with anxiety and comforted by their dear boy.

song: moon song by phoebe bridgers

warnings: anxiety, brief mention of death, hostages, typical criminal minds content, they share a shower but there’s nothing sexual, ends in fluff :)))

a/n: my first spencer fic!!! i’m actually pretty proud of how this turned out so let me know if y’all like it :) also, this is just based on my personal experiences feeling anxious which can obviously be a different experience for everyone!

It was a split second, really. 

A split second that felt like an hour. It was as if the gunshot had hit a clock or something and made time slow down for that second, if that were possible. At the bang, your heart had jumped into your throat, restricting your breath. You could only hear your heartbeat as you stared into the deli that the unsub had taken hostage. Spencer had volunteered, against your protests, to go into the deli and try to talk him down from his two day spree. The unsub had retreated into the back of the deli, prohibiting your team from being able to see what was going on. Minutes later, the gunshot rang through the doors and with no way to know who had fired the shot, your mind assumed the worst. 

You were frozen, trying to decide whether to run in and see your dead boyfriend on the floor or stay back praying that he would walk out, perfectly fine. You weren’t breathing as the agents around you moved in slow motion towards the door. Before they got there, however, the deli door swung open and Spencer walked out, holding the hand of the young girl that the unsub had held hostage and yelling for a medic. 

Your feet seemed incapable of moving. Your eyes were trained on Spencer as he walked the girl over to her parents and accepted their gratitude. You watched as he glanced around looking for someone until his eyes landed on you. He walked over to you and you reached out to him, almost like you were making sure he was real. Enveloping you in his arms, he embraced you, your neck finding its place in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Your hands tangled in his hair, reassuring yourself that he was alive. He wasn’t even hurt. He was fine. As always, Spencer read your racing heart and desperate clutch at his curls and whispered into your ear.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” You reluctantly pulled away from him, his hands lingering on your hips. 

“I know.” You said, with a half smile. But your heart was still pounding and you couldn’t seem to focus. Spencer wove his fingers into yours, squeezing your hand as the two of you walked towards one of the SUVs.

The jet ride back to Quantico seemed to defy time the same way the second after the gunshot had. You sat in silence the whole time, not letting go of Spencer’s hand. He glanced over to you every once in a while, but you were staring either out the window or at your lap. 

He was concerned and you were, honestly, confused. Spencer was fine. He had gotten out of the situation without so much as a scratch so why weren’t you flooded with relief? That’s what usually happened with anxiety like this. It was squashed after you were sure everyone was fine and relief washed over you like a nice blanket. And this had happened too many times for you to count. In fact, Spencer and you had been in much worse danger than this before. So why could you not look at him fully yet still not let go of his hand? Spencer knew not to pry. At least not yet. 

The plane landed and the team disembarked, saying their goodbyes and heading to their respective cars. You were still in a haze and, of course, still holding Spencer’s hand. 

Although the two of you didn’t officially live together, you spent every night in each other’s apartments. Usually based on who had more food in their house which was Spencer’s tonight. The drive home you were still silent, staring out the passenger window trying to squash the fluttering in your stomach like it was an annoying moth fluttering around your head. Spencer’s hand rest on your thigh, with your hand placed on top of it. 

You entered his apartment and dropped your bags, standing by the couch, feeling the moth in your stomach start flying faster as your breathing sped up slightly. You were so confused. The fact that this feeling should have faded by now just made you more anxious. Spencer realized you hadn’t followed him into his bedroom and came back to see you stood still, the same as you had been outside the deli, staring into his living room. 

“Y/n?” You turned at his voice. Your eyes were slightly glazed over and he walked towards you quickly, noticing that something was obviously wrong. “I’m okay, Y/n. What’s wrong?”

“I-uh...I don’t…” You tried to explain that you didn’t know what was wrong. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t accept that Spencer was actually okay. He felt so far away, so vulnerable, so easily taken away from you, and you just wanted to reach for him and grab onto whatever you could clutch. But you were frozen again not wanting to move, fearing that it wasn’t real and he would fall through your fingers like grains of sand. Spencer gently placed his hand on your back, applying pressure in an effort to move you to the bedroom. With Spencer’s guidance, you found your way into the bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Spencer knelt in front of you, his hands finding a place on your thighs and gazing up at you with his warm hazel eyes. He patiently waited for you to say something, rubbing circles in your legs. You tried to steady your breathing but were met with stinging in your eyes as tears formed in them. 

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, not meeting his eyes. Spencer’s brows furrowed and his lips quirked up in a confused smile.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” 

 You blinked, releasing the teardrops down your cheeks. “You’re the one who was in danger. I should be comforting you.” You stuttered out.

“Y/n. Look at me.” When you didn’t comply, he brought his hand to your jaw, wiping away the tears that had accumulated there and tilting your chin ever so slightly so you would look at him. You had never understood how someone’s eyes alone could deliver such a strong feeling but in that moment you saw such love pouring from his golden orbs into yours. “I was inside the building. I knew what was going on and knew that I would be fine once I assessed the situation. You were stuck on the outside, with no way of knowing if I was hurt or not. I know how scary that is. Trust me, I do.” 

Spencer brought his other hand up to your face, cupping your cheeks in his large palms, tracing your cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs.  “I know the fear and anxiety can linger and that’s unsettling. But I will do anything you need me to do to remind you that I am here, I am okay, and I love you.” You reached a hand out between Spencer’s arms to brush his soft curls behind his ear. 

“You’re okay.” You whispered, more to yourself than to him. 

“I’m okay.” He repeated, giving you a soft smile that melted your heart. Standing up from his position on the floor, he stood in front of you, hands still cupping your cheeks, and said, “How about a shower, my love?” 

You sniffled and nodded, his hands dropping to your waist as you stood up. He pressed his lips to your forehead as you wrapped your arms around his chest, squeezing him to remind yourself of the undeniable tangibility of his physical presence. 

Minutes later and hot water ran over your body. The scalding temperature burned away the anxiety of the day making you sigh as you tilted your head back, letting the water hit your neck and run down your chest. Goosebumps spread across your stomach as you felt the large palms of Spencer’s hands wrap around you, his head finding its rightful place in the crook of your neck. He pressed his lips, wet with the water of the shower, to the muscle that connected your upper spine to your shoulder. You spun around in his arms and looked at his blissful face as he pulled back from your neck. With one arm wrapped around his neck, your other fingers traced his immaculately sculpted cheekbones which led you to his immaculately sculpted nose and down his face finally to those immaculately sculpted lips, where you dragged your finger over the bottom one, watching it spring back into place. You were once again overwhelmed with emotion, but this time the tears weren’t breaking a seal of anxiety like the popping of a water balloon. They were spilling out of the plastic water bottle of love that resided in your heart, which was overflowing as you stared at the boy you loved so wholeheartedly causing your salty tears to join the drops of water flowing down your body. Spencer rubbed his hands up and down the expanse of your back. Somehow, he understood that these were different tears because, just as you had been able to see his eyes filled with love earlier, he saw the same love reflected back in yours. Using your hands behind his neck, you pulled him down to meet you, wet lips sliding over wet lips in a tender kiss. 

There was nothing sexual about the kiss. It was yet another moment of you basking in Spencer’s viability, his ability to kiss you back and the knowledge that he was alive and here. He was okay. You pulled away and nearly subconsciously whispered that fact out loud. Spencer let out a low chuckle, in no way mocking you, and whispered back the confirmation that he would never judge you for still needing. He was, indeed, okay. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the comforting lub dubs of his heart and the rise and fall of his lungs as they filled with air, yet another reminder of his livelihood. 

The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, moving only to lather each other in soap, nearly robotically. Once the water started to lose its heat the pair of bodies found their way out of the shower, drying each other off in a pattern of pure domesticity. The next several minutes were filled with comfortable silence as you both got ready for bed. You pulled on an old Star Trek tee shirt of Spencer's that had been deeply worn in as he put on his pajamas and the two of you found your way into your shared bed, as if all paths led back to here, where you could sit, wrapped in the long arms and large hands of your beautiful boy and watch the world pass by, perfectly content. Spencer ran his nimble fingers through your damp hair, inhaling the scent. Your eyes barely open, you tilted your head up at him from your place wrapped around his torso. He smiled down at you and pressed his lips to your forehead.

For the last time that night but certainly not the last time ever you whispered,

“You’re okay.”

He smiled against your forehead.

“I’m okay.”

With that, you drifted off to sleep, happy to know that, at least for this moment, he was okay. 

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, Tanaka x Reader, 18+

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 11,752 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

This is my baby. I have spent so much time writing this. I won’t give too big of an intro. Please enjoy.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike​​​ for being my ride-or-die beta,  @pleasantanathema​​​ , @present-mel​​​​ and @linestrider​​​ for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that.

1.2

Part 1 - Valentina

The room is all rich browns and leather, an oiled hardwood floor, mahogany furniture and taxidermied bears. Against the wall, watching over everything with a bored expression is Daichi "The Bulldog" Sawamurov, Mafia Boss of the Bashkortoskaya. His brown eyes inspect his nails as another grunt echoes in the room. Beside him, you, Valentina Sawamurova, stand tall, a well-manicured hand hooked onto his bicep. In a neat line with arms clasped behind their backs stand six bratji, 'brothers', the hitmen of the Security team. They all watch as a shaved-haired man beats the shit out of a pariah.

Tanaka "Khazak" Ryunoslav wipes his tattooed knuckles, alternating X and O’s, onto a white handkerchief pulled from his neatly pressed slacks, staining the fabric red with blood. It is not his. In a simple chair at the centre of the room, a man -no, he doesn't deserve to be called a man- a boy slumps forward. His head hangs low as blood seeps from his brow, nose, mouth. A tooth lays in his drenched lap. Shivers run down Tanaka's spine as he takes in the defeated form of one of his boyevika.

"Huh? Nothing to say for yourself, predatel?" he questions, bruised knuckles tugging the fallen head of his ex-comrade up to peer into their eyes, almost swollen shut.

"I did not betray the Bratva, I swear on my babu-" 

"You only swear on God and the Pakhan, traitor." Tanaka interrupts, releasing his grip so that the boy’s head falls back down in a large swing before lifting up with a painful groan. The Bulldog sighs, checks the time on a glinting gold Rolex. Your fingers slip from the bulging bicep to cross in front of your chest. He nods to you, keep watching, and you smile back, wide, catty, red lipstick violent against white teeth.

"Tanaka, enough. Finish him and dispose of the body. I am tired of his crying. Like a baby. Ha!"

"Da, Boss."

"Make sure his friends are sent a message, also."

"Of course."

Tanaka doesn't take his eyes off the trembling informant but acknowledges the Boss's departure with a casual wave. Most people wouldn't have the audacity to be so lax to the Head, but he isn't just anyone. He's the most trusted. More than you.

"Nyet, nyet, nyet, nyet!" the rat cries, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and splashing onto the floor as he struggles against the bonds. Filthy. Fuck, how Tanaka loves it. He holds his hand out and a more competent, loyal, brat hands him a gun. His fingers curl around the weighted metal of the handle with a sigh, cocking it, and without hesitation, pulls the trigger.

.

.

.

There are only a few seconds of silence after the bang, just enough for Tanaka to relish in the feeling of complete calm after the storm. The hole between the eyes spits blood onto his crisp white shirt, before the lifeless body is untied by his boyevika in the room and dragged out to be 'made an example of'. One by one, the men clean up. A mop, bleach, breaking down the chair for firewood later. No loose ends, including The Khazak's shirt as he unbuttons it to be burnt with the chair. All the while, you watch from the sidelines, against the wall, as the wife of the Boss should.

Your toes tap rhythmically against the floor, the clackclackclack of your stilettoes a steady beat for the men to work to, but your eyes are on Tanaka's back. So muscular, so supple, still shivering from the endorphins of taking a life. The twin pistols tattooed on either shoulder blade seem armed, willing to fire again. 

You watch as he drops down fluidly with crossed legs to sit on the floor in the very spot he killed the predatel with no remorse, taking deep lungfuls of air to relish in the feeling. He can feel your eyes on him, a smile threatening to spread across his lips as he turns his head over his shoulder to peer at your scrutinising gaze -which is very careful not to let your lust show. But he knows it's there. He can taste it on his heavy tongue.

One by one, the men walk from the room, leaving only the two of you in your husband's office. The oak door shuts.

"Tell me, Gadyuka, how was I?" Tanaka enquires, eyes closed and head straight so that you can see the back of his scalp move as he speaks. The shorn hair shimmies and waves with his words, washing over you in the vast expanse of the room. Your pseudonym, 'viper', poison in your veins.

"Same as always: bloody," you hum, pushing off the wall and walking in front of him to lean against the broad desk. "You enjoy making a mess, don't you, Ryu?" you use your nickname for him, not his name, or his pseudonym, but something more intimate. He barks out a laugh, chest shaking as he examines the backs of his knuckles with gleaming eyes.

"Blyat, you know damn well that I do."

Like a gunshot has just echoed once again, the silence in the room is deafening. Your gazes lock, his ocean-grey ones with your cat-like stare. From his position on the floor, he looks up at you. Your stocking-clad legs are inviting his hands to stroke up them, and he's lucky enough to see the hint of the garter strap under your short skirt. He licks his lips. You tap the desk behind you impatiently, nails clacking against the glossy hardwood.

"My husband is going away on business in a week."

"I know, I arranged security."

"You're not going with him?" you ask, eyebrow quirking, no longer tapping the table. Tanaka shakes his head, a coy smile pulling at the corner of his lips, dried blood cracking on his sharp jaw.

"Then where will you be, Khazak?"

The grin almost splits his face in half with his reply, "in your bed, Gadyuka."

His bluntness never fails to shock you, to send heat pooling between your thighs and your heart spasming beneath your ribs. You almost want to have him right there, on top of the ledgers and documents of the many businesses Daichi is in charge of. Tanaka places his strong hands on the floor, easily dragging his body to your feet where he sits once more, staring up with eyes cloudy like the spray of a hurricane. A palm wraps behind your right leg to pull it close to his lips, kissing the lycra, the apex of your kneecap. His touch ripples through your skin so that your chin tilts up, breaking the gravity of his eye contact.

"Careful, Ryunoslav, not here."

His teeth nip at the fabric.

"I can not wait a week to taste you, Val."

"The cameras-"

"Are off because of the interrogation. Only I have the code to enable them for this room."

Calloused palms drag up the backs of your thighs, the stocking tugging slightly as it catches, until they pass the band where they wrap around your thighs, secured with a garter. You almost beg him to feel higher, to grab the fold of your ass, instead, you bite your lip between your teeth in thought.

"Then we must be quick, get under the desk." 

You don't tell him how unusual it would be if you were found to sit in your husband's chair, but with lust swimming from your thighs to drown your mind, it's not important. 

Tanaka is always rowdier after a kill, high off adrenaline, energy flowing in his veins that wants to devour everything in its path. He prefers to devour you. To savour your taste with his head between your supple thighs, to feel you come undone around his quick-witted tongue. With you balancing so precariously on the edge of the leather office chair, he can barely contain his onslaught of touch, desperate to hear you moan in the sound-proofed room. He's tucked so tightly between your knees, his broad yet lean shoulders spreading you so that he sees the dampened lace beneath your skirt.

It never takes much to arouse you. He likes to think it's only him that can pull forth your wetness from your folds like the moon coaxing the tides. He doesn't waste time, doesn't stop to watch the string of slick connecting the fabric to your cunt as his thumbs pull it to the side. He licks a long stripe up your slit and moans into the taste like a man starved. It's times like these when you wish he had hair for you to grab on to, so you settle on gripping the edge of the mahogany desk until your knuckles pale and forearms burn.

His tongue dances between your folds, lapping up each new wave of wetness that touches the shore of the muscle, only nudging the bundle of nerves at the top with a slight jostle.

"Don't tease me, Ryu, not in here," you breathe out at him between his licks, to which he chuckles, head turning to muffle the laughter against your inner thigh.

"Prosti," he apologises, the grey in his eyes glimmering with childish glee, "I can't help it sometimes." 

But he doesn't give you a chance to reply before his lips attach once more to your throbbing skin, wrapping around your swollen clit to suck greedily. Finally, he hears you moan, the sound kissing his sensitive ears like cool ocean spray. It's not loud, more constricted, but it's for him, because of him.

You feel how he sucks you into him, swallowing your heat and lust and desire with his mouth, having it all flow back into your body to stir at the whirlpool between your legs and behind your eyelids. It's torrential, dizzying, you're dragged beneath the waves, chest heaving as if you're drowning, 

but then it stops 

and the sea dies down, leaving your battered body behind.

Tanaka pulls away, silently. His palms close your legs, knees knocking together, his thumbs teasing circles against the bone. You're aching from your denied orgasm, the pained moan in your throat cutting off as a knock sounds in the room.

"Come in," you clear your throat, repeating the command.

One of Daichi's body guard's strides into the room, a look of shock on his face at your seat before he masks it quickly. His long brown hair is tied up neatly into a bun, a slight stubble on his chin tells you he hasn't slept properly in a few days. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks, feel the static in your hair that you smooth down. Tanaka keeps tracing shapes into your thighs, keeping the fire in your gut from extinguishing.

"Yes?" you thank Saint Mary that your voice doesn't tremble, "what is it?"

"Mrs. Sawamurova," he nods a greeting, "The Boss says he will take you out for dinner tonight and has sent me to escort you back to the main estate in preparations."

"Of course, I look forward to it."

You kick away Tanaka's hands, standing at the same time to walk around the table and follow the guard you know as Alexei Asahi from your husband's office. It means leaving The Khazak under the desk, along with a piece of your dignity.

***

Dinner is the kind with clinking glasses and soft chatter. The lighting is dim, intimate, with a soft glow that bounces off the crystal and silverware. As usual, the two of you are seated in the middle of the restaurant, the surrounding tables strategically blocking the view of you and Daichi from all the windows and doors, as well as the bodies seated in them. You can never be too careful, even if your husband owns the restaurant -or the entire town. To your left, behind Daichi and closest to the door, sits Tanaka.

"You look beautiful tonight, darling," Daichi says, taking a bite of his steak.

You do. The black silk dress lays flat against your chest, the deep v tailored perfectly. The tie behind your neck falls softly to your waist. Against your skin is a gold pendant, a coin pressed with the Sawamarov crest. Sleeveless and backless, the dress shows your beautiful viper tattoo curling down your right arm as though protecting you. It’s jaw opens near your wrist to bite anyone you may touch. You hold your glass of wine, swirling it before you sip.

"Thank you, my love. You bought me this dress for our first date."

"And that engagement ring on our second."

You swallow down your guilt, thighs clenching together, the silk fabric teasingly softly against your still-ignited skin. You give him a pointed stare, leaning forward ever so slightly to whisper over the table.

"I wouldn't call that a second date. We never left each other after the first."

Daichi laughs heartily, waves for another bottle of wine, eyes shining with the memory of the very active week in a skiing lodge. He hopes he can recreate some of it tonight, knowing he's been neglecting you, ignoring your needs. He glances down at the subtle curve of the fabric around your slight breast, the hint of the peony tattoo peeking under the edge of your neckline, low on your sternum; it’s the only delicate thing about you.

Daichi watches as you excuse yourself to use the restroom, the way your hips sway beneath the silk as though you have a secret. He frowns when the door closes, checking his watch for the time and pouring a shot of vodka to swallow down. You do have a secret. The waiter takes away the plates, bringing a simple dessert to share with the wine, and when you sit back down with a happy sigh, The Bulldog tries to sniff it out. He taps the table with two fingers and the nearest bodyguards turn slightly away to give you both privacy.

“I was told you were seated at my desk.”

A bite of mousse passes between your red lips with a small smile, eyes penetrating his gaze and not faltering. 

“Can a wife not sit in her husband’s chair?”

“Nyet, you know this. Why?”

“Calm down, my love.”

He fixes his cuff links, leaning back in his chair so that the gold chain around his neck glints in the light. His strong brow shadows his darkening eyes, lips pressing into a thin line, and, true to his nickname, it seems as though his muscles inflate. It makes you melt to see him hard, pectorals and biceps wanting to burst through the fabric of his Armani shirt. The spoon clinks against the plate and you reach across the table, viper stretching to grab his hand and bring it to your lips with a soft kiss, red lipstick on his jewelled knuckles. As much as you want to flicker your gaze to the man behind your husband, you hold firm.

“It’s embarrassing, but I’ll tell you. Come closer so I can whisper,” you usher him in, and Daichi grunts but follows your suggestion. He has no reason to doubt you, yet his gut is telling him you were doing more than just resting your heeled feet. He watches your pink tongue lick your bottom lip, teeth cracking between them with a coy smile.

“As you know, it has been quite some time since we’ve, how should I put this, made love.”

“I know.”

“Had I known we were going to dine tonight, fuck tonight, I would not have.”

“Your point, Gadyuka.”

Your whisper turns into a low hum, right hand squeezing his and your left hand toying with the coin pendant around your neck. Butterflies swirl in your gut, but you kill them swiftly with venom. He can sniff out any insecurity.

“I was masturbating.”

“What?”

“I was masturbating. Touching myself. In your chair, by your desk, thinking of you. I was almost finished but then Alexei had knocked on the door and stopped it.”

The look on Daichi’s face can only be described as speechless, which he is not often. His mouth opens, eyes stormy as he pictures your flushed face. He remembers that glassy look your eyes adopt when you're close, far away in bliss. Your delicate palm touches his clean-shaven cheek, drawing his attention back to the restaurant, to you.

“How about we go home and finish what I started, huh?”

Daichi didn’t need to be told twice. Standing fluidly, everyone around him follows his movement. Your fur coat is draped over your shoulders, thick and warm, a crisp white. His hand is on the small of your back, leading you out of the restaurant with the haste of a man collecting a prize. The air is cold, snow shovelled aside as you climb into the car to feel heated lips pressing to your neck instantly. You laugh, locking your wrists behind his neck to capture his mouth with your own. Men are so easily convinced.

Part 2 - Tanaka

The frame rattles as Tanaka slams the door closed behind him. He tracks melting sludge onto the thin, rust-coloured welcome mat, the tip of his nose red with more than the kiss from the windchill. The heater of the cabin is turned on, the warmth a welcome refuge from the thick snow outside as he shrugs off his coat.

Tanaka doesn’t hide his thoughts and feelings. He’s the kind of guy that wears them on his sleeve, bares it all out there for everyone to see. When he’s angry, you can see the tips of his ears burn. When he’s thrilled, that shark-tooth grin spreads so wide across his face, his eyes close. And when he’s murderous, nothing and no one can stand in his way.

“Cyka blyat!” he shouts, punching the wall of his residence, missing the mirror by mere centimetres, his already bruised knuckles stinging with his rage. A slew of curse words tumbles from his lips, both from searing pain and soaring anger. The eyes on the back of his hands stare at him, judging.

Seeing Valentina out at dinner, looking so delectable, so sinful, Ryunoslav felt ravenous for just a taste of her skin. It was bad enough that he never got to feel her convulse on his tongue earlier, he had to watch her flirt with her husband. He knows the deal, that nothing can ever really happen between the two of them outside of sex, and if they were both to get caught, it would be his end. He understands, yet he can’t help his rising natural anger. The buzzing in his pants pocket pulls him from his internal struggle, and he relaxes his hands, feeling the half-moon indents in his palms hiss in relief.

“Da?" a pause, "I’m on my way.”

Daichi wants to see him; did they finish their ‘love-making’ so quickly? Tanaka catches his reflection in the mirror, massaging the centre of his furrowed brows to try dissipate some of his frustrations before grabbing his thick coat and making the five-minute trek to the main estate. He’s frozen to the bone by the time he arrives at the large mahogany doors, but his anger keeps his blood warm. He needs to be careful, to calm down.

***

The Boss is waiting for Tanaka in his oversized office, the door open ajar, letting a soft yellow light stream into the hallway. This one is different from where the interrogation took place that afternoon, yet it is decorated almost identically. A shiver runs down Ryunoslav’s neck as he remembers Valentina’s sumptuous taste, the supple skin of her thighs brushing against his jaw and the way her lips sighed his name. Fuck, he takes a deep breath, pacifying his licentious thoughts before rapping on the door with his knuckles. Daichi’s deep voice tells him to enter.

He sits there, behind the desk, the white shirt he wore to dinner wrinkled, half unbuttoned to show a burly chest. A gold chain with a coin and two wedding bands glints from the curled chest hair.

“Vodka?” Daichi asks, doe brown eyes glancing up, already pouring both him and his head of security a shot of the clear liquid.

“Spasiba,” Tanaka’s voice is a grumble, deep in his chest as he tries to warm his body but cool his temper.

The Bulldog leans back. They toast, downing the drink with a casual swallow. As per usual, Tanaka automatically refills the next round for the both of them, but it remains untouched. Instead, Daichi opens a ledger, fingers curling up the pages as he flips through the numbers and accounts.

“Sergei has told me we were underpaid last month.”

“Mm, I will talk with Yuuri to find out who.”

“Make sure you show them the repercussions.”

“Always.”

Tanaka cracks his knuckles, excited to teach yet another lesson in punctuality. Daichi eyes his most trusted brother, the way that cocky smirk appears at the thought of fists colliding with skin, but there’s something else underneath.

“Khazak, you’re angry,” Daichi concludes, reaching across the table for the vodka, motioning Ryunoslav to sit down across from him. The shorn-haired man shrugs, slinking into the leather seat, removing his black beenie to run his hand through the trimmed hair. He can’t lie to the Boss, but he can’t tell him the truth either.

“I am… frustrated.”

The pair cheers, the glasses clinking before thudding onto the leather ingrained into the top of the desk.

“Why?”

"Ha! Please, I do not know, Boss.”

Daichi lets out a hum, shifting forward in his chair so that the wheels creak beneath his weight.

“I think I know.”

Tanaka stays silent, keeping his stare level and curious with the Bulldog’s.

“You need a woman!” Daichi barks out, smacking the desk with a flat palm, laughing deeply so that it echoes in the quiet room and probably through the manor. Tanaka can’t help but join in with the infectious laughter, the vodka soothing his nerves, relaxing the tension in his jaw.

“You’re right. It’s been too long,” since I fucked your wife.

They pour another shot, the buzz of the first two beginning to hum pleasantly through their bodies.

“Next week I go to Georgia to see the business there. While I’m gone, bring a whore to your bed. You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Boss.” Tanaka says, his cock twitching at the thought of Valentina in his residence. She’s never been there longer than a few minutes, and never without Daichi in the ten years Ryunoslav has been working for the Sawamurov family, and the two he’s been fucking her. He can't help but fantasize about it.

They catch up in light-hearted talk, about the state of Russia and the business, that they don’t see her peer around the corner of the heavy door, black silk nightgown wrapped loosely around her frame to show the lace of lingerie beneath.

“Daichi, are you coming to bed?” Tanaka hears her say, Valentina’s voice caressing his sensitive ears, but it’s not for him. He turns around, both men shocked into sobriety when they see her leaning against the now open door. 

“Ah yes! Sorry, my love! We lost track of time.” Daichi says, pushing up from his seat. Tanaka swallows, watches as her gaze floats from her husband’s to his own. He can see the pale blue of new bruises around the column of her throat, where Daichi probably sucked into the skin. Tanaka can’t help his smirk. She always did like it rough, and it means he can leave his own over those later.

“Khazak,” she greets with a curt nod, fixing the dropped shoulder of the gown to make herself more modest. “Don’t keep him too late, okay?”

“Mrs. Sawamurova, as you wish.”

Daichi chuckles from behind the desk, walking around to clap Tanaka on the shoulder.

“I may be the Pakhan, but Gadyuka here always has the last say, huh? Good night, Ryunoslav. Don’t forget to talk to Yuuri. And don’t forget what I said you can do.”

“Da, spakoyne noche, Boss.”

With a two-finger wave, Daichi walks out of the room, his hand travelling to the small of Valentina’s back as he leads her back to the bedroom. Tanaka takes one final shot, pulling his hat low over his ears as he prepares to walk back to his house.

***

“He said what?” Nishinoya Yuuri exclaims, cackling inside Tanaka’s small living room. His shorter counterpart smacks the armrest of the chair, the sound against the leather cracking like a whip.

“I can entertain a whore this weekend.”

Yuuri can’t believe his ears, face red with laughter, the file of the business owner coming up with short change forgotten on his lap. His bleached bangs hang in his eyes and he pushes it up, wiping tears with a deep breath. 

Together, Ryunoslav and Yuuri make up the Elite Group within the Bashkortoskaya, Daichi’s most trusted men. Each one runs their own Brigade: Nishinoya the Support Group and, by default, oversees the entire Workforce, while Tanaka is head of Security and keeps everything running smoothly.

The Khazak’s sharp jaw pulses, cheeks red to resemble a heart as it beats in humility. He clenches and unclenches his jaw.

“In the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had a prostitute.”

"I've never needed one," Tanaka shrugs, stealing the manila folder to flip through the details. Simple enough. His men were already bringing the tinted black SUVs around for them to make a ‘house call’ to Ukai Keishin. He shrugs on his thick coat, the kind that’s easy to clean, and black leather gloves onto his hands, slipping knuckle dusters into his pocket. Just in case. He doubts he’ll need them. He waves Yuuri a goodbye as he hears the tyres crunch over the sleet of snow.

“Remember to pick up condoms while you’re out!” He hears his brother call out to him as the door closes and ice invades each inhale.

Tanaka grumbles under his breath, fiddling with the direction of the hot air coming through the car’s vents. Just what he needs is word getting around that he would be fucking someone while the Boss is gone. These kinds of things never stay quiet, and he knows it will reach Valentina’s ears within the day. He shivers to think how she will lash out at him if he actually invites one of Daichi’s prostitutes back to his bed. The girls at those establishments can’t even hold a candle to her beauty or skill.

Prostitution is a lucrative business and one of the main sources of income, other than drug smuggling and the many (legal and illegal) casinos and tech companies owned by the Sawamurov’s. Ukai's particular business—and why The Boss is so invested in it—is a front for a prostitution call-centre. According to performance, they should've made a profit for the month past. Usually, Tanaka wouldn't make an appearance personally, delegating the task to his experienced team members, who might even give the order to the security brigades that they run. However, he is glad to get out of the estate grounds and think of something other than Val’s voluptuous lips and the swell of her breasts from beneath that black lingerie last night.

***

The Sawamurov's reach controlled all of Bashkortostan, a republic within Russia nestled between the picturesque Ural mountain range and the Volga river. Tanaka watches as the trees surrounding the estate give way to highway and grassland before the small town of Belebey comes into view. It's all Daichi's, and in turn, all Val’s.

The town is quiet, the late morning sky a dark grey with clouds that make the winter more formidable. Tanaka wouldn't have it any other way. They pull up to the slightly rundown storefront, graffiti against the wall with crude swear words act as a greeting. He snorts, watching as the glossy black SUV's reflect in the windows as though looking into a parallel world. Inside he can see movement, a tall man in a white apron walking around the counter to open the door. Confident. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Ukai shouts out, arms crossed over his chest to protect his fingers from the stinging cold. Tanaka doesn't answer, tucking his chin into his scarf as he observes the man. He's older, bleached blonde with honey eyes that seem more solid, hardened. On his forearms are scars, his flannel shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattoo of a web with a downwards facing spider: recovered drug addict.

"We've come to collect," one of the lackeys says in his boss's place.

Ukai steps aside to let them in, sighing deeply, flicking a cigarette to the moist ground, and leading them to a back room where there's a round table with a few wooden chairs. Papers litter the room, boxes of unpacked stock are piled in a corner. The place is a shithole.

"Can I get you anything? Vodka, cigarette?"

"Sit, Ukai." Tanaka speaks, gesturing to the nearest chair, unbuttoning his coat to drop it onto the table, his beanie and scarf piling on top of it. "We're here for business."

Ukai collapses down, slouching casually as he stares at the leader of the men. Ryunoslav drags a chair in front of the debtor, spinning it on a single leg so that he leans against the backrest as he sits with his legs spread out on either side. A sliver of gold chain catches the fluorescent lighting under his simple suit shirt, matching the multiple piercings in Ukai's right ear.

"You did not pay the full amount of February."

"Correct."

"Why?"

"I couldn't."

The man's blunt lie is shocking to Tanaka, refreshing from the usual quivering imbeciles, and he feels the need to suppress a smile that threatens to reveal itself. Instead, he keeps his tone cynical.

"Was the month not profitable, Ukai? Men get lonely in February, their beds cold."

Ukai shrugs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron, eyeing the handsome shaved hair man with intrigue. Tanaka feels a ripple down his spine. "For the whores? Yes, it was profitable. But my business was not."

"So you used the money for the Bashkortoskaya to save your ass from bills?" Tanaka begins to laugh, his wide mouth swallowing the sky as his chin tilts up. He stares straight at the man once more, "you should've paid us first."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your visit. I am touched an Avtoritet will come to see me personally. You are better looking than I thought you would be, younger."

Tanaka raises an eyebrow at the flirtatious comment, a very open individual. He sees some of his subordinates shift uncomfortably in his peripheral, unsure of how to proceed. He drums his fingers on the back of the chair, the beat steady like his heart.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, I'm not one of your kind."

"And what kind is that?"

"Gay."

Ukai chuckles, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his apron pocket, offering one to Ryunoslav who instead takes the full box, holding it up for someone to confiscate. He stands, walking to inspect the stacked boxes around the room. Ukai swallows; he knows not to push his luck too far.

"Are you going to kill me if I don't pay?"

"Hm, nyet, not yet. Are these fresh?" Tanaka holds up a dozen eggs, the green carton sickly. He doesn't wait for the reply, tearing it open and tossing one to the ground with a resounding crunch, the yolk bleeding into the tile grates.

"Listen, Ukai," splat, "you will pay the balance," splat, "by the end of this week," Tanaka walks closer with each drop of the egg until he's next to the grocery store owner. Ukai sits upright, a cool gaze on Tanaka's tattooed hands as they stroke the shell of the brown eggs. The crosses and circles are targets, his hands the weapons.  

"Or your head, will look like these eggs." Tanaka drops the entire carton on the ground, the bright yellow spilling out and pooling beneath Tanaka's black boots. "Vy ponimayete?"

"Da, understood."

"Good. I hope I will not need to see you again."

On his way out of the store, Tanaka picks up a box of condoms from the aisle.

Part 3 - Valentina

Friday cannot come fast enough... so that you can throttle your lover. 

The double-pane french doors to the balcony shine with frost, the sky beyond dark and unforgiving, much like the irritation boiling inside you. It’s the last night; Daichi leaves on the first flight to Georgia tomorrow morning to meet with the Vashadze, your father and owners of half the Casinos under your combined empire. Your marriage three years ago was the biggest news since the raid on the Uhaluba club in Prague, 1995. Together, your families control prositution, drug smuggling, money laundering, the list goes on. Behind the scenes, of course. 

Up front, Daichi is a wealthy investor of tech: Facebook, Tesla, oil companies in the Middle East and Serbia, whereas your father is a top Politician and Minister in Georgia, maintaining his position with dirt he’s collected on those with darker tastes and kinks in the underworld.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you’ll have them all by the fangs,” your father regularly told you over dinners since you were thirteen, when he began to show you the truth behind his wealth, once your mother passed away.

It’s how you got your nickname. It was the first thing you said to Daichi, before he took you out, before he became The Boss . You were eighteen when you laid eyes upon that hulking mass of muscle. He asked how you could be so beautiful, and you parroted your father’s words. He knew from that moment on that you were dangerous, poisonous, and he had to have you.

When you were twenty-one, you met Daichi again, this time in an underground gambling soiree. You were the host, of course. The felt green betting mats stood out in stark contrast against the white dress code and the dark wooden tables. You wore black. Translucent red dice swirled between your fingers expertly before you rolled snake eyes.

“Bad luck,” Daichi commented over your shoulder, spiced wood and tobacco tickling your nose. You sipped a vodka martini with a twist. There was always a twist with you.

“It’ll be fine, I own the club,” you shrugged, cashing out with the chips you owed and strolling back to the bar where another drink awaited you. Even now, you could remember Tanaka Ryunoslav hovering behind Daichi, drinking in the sight of your curves, the red of your lipstick and the wit of your tongue. A lot less subtle then than now. 

If you closed your eyes, you could very easily conjure the tapping of his heels, the eager look in the Young Khazak’s eyes at being surrounded by some of the most powerful men in Eastern Europe. You could even taste the vodka on his tongue that you sucked down your throat in a supply room all those years ago.

Back then, that bout of casual sex meant nothing. You married Daichi four years later, when your paths crossed once more at twenty-five, the turf wars between neighbouring families becoming too much to bear for Eastern Europe. You were lucky Daichi was--is so exceedingly handsome. Interesting. Smart. Powerful. However, so is your father. And you never wanted to marry your father.

“Darling?” Daichi’s voice calls you out of your pacing when he walks into the room, the silk of your dressing gown swooping around your feet as you stand still. “Everything alright?”

“Da, sorry, you know I get nervous when you fly,” you lie quickly, easily, turning your back on him to close the curtain and shut out the irritation of outside, the faint golden glow of Tanaka’s cabin sealed away. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Mm, yes, I know. Relax a little. When I am back we have that gala. Is your dress finished?”

You give him a pointed glance, turning down the bedsheets and unravelling the delicate bow of the robe to climb under the covers with bare skin.

“Weeks ago, Daichi. You were at the final fitting.”

He nods as if he remembers, but you know his mind is elsewhere, much like your body would rather be.

“Are you coming to bed early tonight?”

For several days, weeks, months, Daichi has been sneaking into your bed too late in the evening. Or early in the morning. The business is doing fine, there’s no cause for him to spend some nights not even at home. Some part of you--a small, small part--misses his thick muscles wrapped around your body.

“Later, there is something I have to do first.”

You merely hum, settling yourself down and dimming the lamp beside the bed until the room bathes in a soft glow. With your eyes closed, you don’t see him leave, the door clicking shut. Instead, you picture red, your empty bed, and across the snow, a cocky smile letting a too thin, sallow-skinned blank face past their threshold. He will have to have a hooker, Daichi will ask him all about it. Motherfucker. You turn the light off.

***

The Bulldog kisses your forehead when he wakes, sleeping behind you for a total of an hour. You’d woken up slightly when he clambered into the bed, smelling freshly of his cologne from a recent shower, at three in the morning.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispers into your ear, not staying to hear your ‘be safe’ in response, still mumbling from a fitful night’s sleep. 

However, you don’t drift off again, eyes suddenly open and staring into your nightstand where a cool glass of water rests. It’s still, silent and calm. You turn over to the right, seeing the empty space where Daichi’s body barely left a mark, his lamp still buzzing. It isn’t until you hear cars pull away in the driveway that you sit up, wiping the remnants of sleep delicately from your eyes to sigh. It’s going to be a long day.

Dumdumdum, three quick taps echo in the quiet, the door creaking open as a curious head peeks around the side. Ryunoslav smiles when he sees you perched in bed. His eyes drift from your face, down your neck and to your breasts, the skin pricking up under his sharp gaze. You could strike a match and it would erupt into flames.

“What are you doing here, Ryu?” you ask. It comes out more accusatory than you would’ve liked but he just grins, teeth ready to bite any jab you throw.

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?”

For a raucous man, Tanaka moves stealthily across your floor, kicking off his boots before planting two large hands onto the edge of the mattress. You can feel it dip with his weight as he crawls, veiny forearms caging in your legs, trapping you. He sways side to side, spine rolling like a panther about to pounce. You kick his left hand out so he falls, crashing and rolling to the spot where Daichi laid with a laugh, peering up at you with fervent energy.

“His bed isn’t even cold yet.”

“Ha! He barely slept here, Val.”

“And you will?” Skepticism laces your words, the irritation of last night seeping into your thoughts once more. His smile finally drops.

“Nyet, of course not. You know that.” Tanaka twists around so that he’s cross-legged, facing you fully, eyes searching your own. “I’ll just fuck you.” You scoff.

His hands plant themselves on your thighs, the eyes tattooed on the back staring at the ceiling, observing the heavens. They travel gradually up to where the sheet lays scrunched around your waist, fingers pinching the edges.

“Give you more pleasure than he does before going back to my lonely bed. Without you.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’ll be lonely for much longer, Ryunoslav.”

Tanaka chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he pulls the duvet down to unveil you before him. His chest rises and falls so fluidly with his deep breaths, a movement so calm, yet he freezes when his eyes rake over your luscious figure.

“How the Boss does not have you under lock and key astounds me.”

Your hand slaps across his face, a fire burning from your palm down to your groin.

“I will not be someone’s pet.”

Lust overcomes Tanaka’s pupils, his lips curling up in ecstasy at your stern tone, his cheek pounding along with his heart.

“No, you will not.”

Then, his mouth captures yours. 

Hot, hungry, the spring in his spine expands so that his chest presses against yours, jaws stretching up. Desperate hands clutch at your neck, the fold of your hips, anything to pull himself tight to your body, anchored to your skin and bed. It’s sinful, even whores refuse to do something so intimate. You feel that heavy tongue drag against your bottom lip, asking your permission to enter. You welcome it, savoring the taste of Ryu’s desire, his burning passion. His hands drift to tug at the firm muscle of your ass, hauling you to kneel over his lap, supporting and kneading it to a rhythm that you’ve come to know so well.

Your fingers clumsily unbutton his pants, slipping under the fabric to feel your undoing. Tanaka moans into your mouth, growing harder, fiercer in his touch with each stroke up the length of his cock. He wastes no time, patience not his strongest virtue. You detach from the kiss with a heavy sigh, forehead pressing to his as you melt over his fingers. Both your hands press into his shoulders, stabilising your vibrating body from how he rolls your clit between his fingers. He’s too clothed, not enough of his skin available for you to stroke and scratch and bite. You claw at the back of his long-sleeved shirt, he rips it off.

With the shirt discarded over his boots, Ryu’s warm hands wrap around your waist, tilting you back until you lay open for him. His pants come off next, flung haphazardly to the floor so that he kneels before you shamelessly, eyes raking down your naked body. By now, he’s committed every curve, every artwork on your skin to memory that he can draw you with his eyes closed. The peony tattoo at the base of your sternum a siren’s call for his mouth to taste. The heat of his body is a furnace, flames licking your skin as he kisses down your chest, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

“Why don’t I finish what I started, huh?” he parrots the words you whispered to Daichi a week ago. Your gut clenches, your cunt tightening to know he heard that. You almost want to beg him to devour you, but that’s not who you are. Your hand strokes over his shorn hair, his eyes closing as your nails rake against his scalp. Savagely, you squeeze his jaw, fingers pursing his lips, the viper tattooed near your wrist ready to strike.

“So snarky. I can think of more important uses for your tongue, Ryunoslav.”

He grins, the round of his cheeks tensing in your clutches before he turns his head to nibble at your thumb, sucking it down.

“As you wish, Valentina.”

Tanaka kisses down your stomach to the apex of your mound, squirming until he nestles between your outstretched legs and his arms wrap themselves under your thighs, an iron grip on your hips. You brace yourself to feel that vacuum, that eternally deep suction that clings onto your soul and merges it with his, but all you can feel are soft exhales. He stares up at you, an indiscernible look on his face.

“Ryu?” you come onto your elbows. The very sight of the man between your legs is enough to make you shiver. He plants a kiss to your thigh.

“You know I will do anything for us, for you.”

“I know.”

“Even fuck a whore once if it means I get to stay with you for just another more day.”

You grit your teeth, knowing it’s true, and although he shouldn’t be saying such intimate things—that you can never truly be together—it’s what you needed to hear. You remain silent, watching him as he lowers his mouth to your seeping skin, licking languidly to taste you on his entire tongue. It’s flat, wet, heavy, pressing into you so solidly you fall back down, eyes closing as you capsize. Tanaka demands whimpers, his name, with his touch. He’s insatiable, greedy to feel you come undone completely, this time with no interruption.

Two fingers test your waters, slipping between the waves of your folds while his tongue drags you under. You know his ocean-grey eyes never stop watching as you writhe under his ministrations. You can barely move, clenching around his skilled hand as though keeping him anchored in place. You want him, need him. The first pulse of your walls spurs him on, stirring the storm in your groin, until you can barely contain your moans for him. Your orgasm batters against the shores of your body, powerful waves washing over you and dissolving all your stress and irritation, leaving you gasping and heavy, weighted down and sluggish.

“Fuck, baby,” Tanaka swears against your skin, still pumping his fingers against sopping skin to feel how you contract around him. The stimulation almost has you in tears and you grab his wrist to pull him away, closer to your lips. You swallow down your tang, the kiss passionate yet lazy as he ruts against your tingling clit, hands wrapped around your head to almost cradle you against him.

“You were very loud,” he chides, but you know he loves it, the danger. “You are lucky no one is in the house tonight.”

“Do you want me to keep quiet, Ryu?” you moan into his mouth, biting his lip against a particularly rough thrust.

“Never,” he grins, sitting back so that he can observe your glassy look, you pout at the sudden chill. There’s a moment of protest, his body too far away, before your eyes roll back and you’re stretched out, overflowing with the feeling of him, your vision black.

Part 4 - Tanaka

Ryunoslav wishes he could lay behind Valentina eternally, watch as she wakes and stretches, but he knows he can’t. He unfurls his lithe chest from her back, and stands to dress before sneaking back to his cabin. The cold air nips at his cheeks, but it would take a snowstorm and him being naked to freeze over the warmth radiating from inside his chest. Under the cover of dark, even at 6:00 am, Tanaka makes it back without being seen, like he always does.

He winces as he shrugs off his coat and scarf, the scrapes on his back from her nails stinging beautifully. His thoughts drift: what she must think when she wakes up in the mornings to find the bed empty, either without him or Daichi, and whether he’ll ever see her under his own covers, laughing while sipping a coffee on a summer morning. Ryu shakes his head to absolve those thoughts, it’s dangerous to linger on dreams for too long.

The box of condoms on his dining table stand out like a sore thumb, and he shoves it into the closest drawer, the eyes on his hands giving him a mocking stare. ‘What would your mother say?’ it blinks at him, pulling his mouth into a scowl. Turning the kettle on, he pulls up Sergei’s number on his phone.

“Khazak, it’s early.” Sergei’s morning gruff is thick, coughing lightly as he clears his throat.

“Dobre utra, Sergei, sorry, I know.”

“What is it you need?” Tanaka can almost picture the cool gaze, the pinched brows beneath silver hair that the bookkeeper has on whenever speaking to the head of security.

“Ukai, has all been fixed?”

“Uka– Ryunoslav, could this not wait until a more reasonable hour? Yes, it’s resolved. The guy wired the remaining amount last night. God knows where he got it from but I don’t care.”

Tanaka opens his mouth to speak, but Sergei cuts him off.

“I swear, call me this early again and I’ll hang you from your ears.”

The Khazak laughs, wishing the old ‘friend’ a good day as he hangs up. That clears up most of Tanaka’s schedule, and he falls onto his bed, groaning when the whistle of the kettle rings loud in the room. It’s too similar to the alarm bells in his mind when he thinks about the call he has to make later.

***

Ryunoslav shivers, peeling off the used condom to tie a knot in it. It wasn’t too bad. With the prostitute's ass in the air, he could almost picture it was her. He watches as she pulls up stockings and a dress, her only layers beneath a thick coat and hat. The prostitute looks over her shoulder with her hand resting on the door, appreciating the view. Tanaka sits on the edge of the bed, naked and bored.

“This was fun. Call me anytime,” she purrs with a wink, pleasantly fucked, before leaving. He grumbles, falling backwards so that air whooshes past his ears as the mattress creaks under his body.

She’s going to kill me, he thinks, picturing Val’s face with the disapproving glare that always seems to rile him up. A part of him wonders if he went through with it purely to piss her off, make her mad with jealousy, just like he can be.

***

Tanaka must’ve dozed off because he wakes to the sound of his front door being pounded, the clock next to it showing quarter to midnight. He swears, scrambling to toss the condom he left on his thigh into the open basket bin and pull on the nearest pair of pants. He has just finished tying the drawstring when the door swings open and Valentina strides in, arms crossed in front of her chest, white flakes of snow on the Hermès scarf wrapped around her hair.

He’s frozen, a deer in headlights, silent at seeing her standing in his doorway, both beautiful and deadly. He watches as analytical eyes scan the single-roomed cabin, finally taking it all in. For some reason, he feels shy, a blush creeping up his neck. He has always wanted her in here, but now that she is, he feels like it’s not good enough.

Tanaka follows her gaze: sweeping from the small kitchen, to the two person table and chair, in the corner are the leather armrests and a coffee table. Directly by Val’s right is a mirror and coat hook, the wooden-heated walls sparsely decorated with a map of old USSR and new Russia, along with a single lily in a simple frame. He sees her stare past him, to the arch that separates his bedroom, analysing the unmade bed. Tendrils of cold sweep by him from the still-open door. She does not move a muscle.

Valentina opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it, walking to the kitchen counter where a half-finished bottle of vodka sits. Tanaka’s door shuts with a click, and when he turns, she has already pulled out a shot glass. 

Has she been drinking? he thinks, rubbing the goosebumps up his arms, the callouses scraping some still-healing scabs. He gets his answer when she barely winces her swallow.

“Do you want to sit down?” Tanaka asks, approaching carefully, gesturing to the sofa; she’s a cornered viper. Val turnz, leaning against the marble top, coat still wrapped tightly around her body. Her lips purse, and he stills, knowing she’s either trying to put together a sentence or hold back uttering one. But Ryunoslav doesn’t know her to hold back often.

“Did you do it?” 

He didn’t expect the question to flow from her lips so calmly, hushed and smooth like an expert interrogator; the way he would speak. There’s no point in lying.

“Da,” Tanaka steps closer, reaching past Val’s head for a second shot glass. She makes no effort to hand him the bottle. “It’s just sex.” 

He almost recoils from the daggers in her stare, pupils shrinking into slits that can cut through him. I should not have said that, but if he lied, he wonders if she’d be just as furious. Valentina looks down and spots the discarded condom, sighing while twisting open the cap of the bottle to drink straight from the lip, past the point of using a glass.

“I thought of you.”

A faint flicker of relief, but then she laughs, curt and cold.

“I’m so flattered, Ryunoslav, thank you.”

He feels his heart tighten, forehead pounding, with more than guilt.

“Blyat, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” he snorts, storm brewing in his eyes, fists clenching. His face is so close to hers, he can smell the alcohol on her breath. He can see her searching for answers within his own.

“I don’t know, but,” her eyes close, the small wrinkle between her brow dissolving with an inhale. The exhale has them open, blank, her lips in a neutral line. Somehow, this scares Ryunoslav even more. He feels his heart hammer beneath his ribs, either trying to escape or to jump into her palms. The bottle is no longer in them, but the belt of her coat, pulling it loose so that it unfurls from her chest. He see’s skin, a clavicle, ripe mounds of breasts. The flower tattoo peaks out from the shadow until it disappears and the top of underwear wraps around her waist. She’s not wearing the Family pendant. When the coat drops off her shoulders--the wool scrunching into a thick pile at her feet--he notices she is still wearing boots, but legs bare; she used the underground passage to get to his cabin.

“If you prefer to fuck a shlyukha, you just had to say so.” Valentina says, fingers trailing up the skin of her waist while keeping his gaze. Tanaka can’t respond, doesn’t want to, anything he says is fuel to her wildfire. “I can be a whore.”

She’s raging, the very air around her too thick for Tanaka to breathe easily, and when she takes a step forward, he imitates backward. He’s controlled by her until he collapses into his leather armchair and she towers over him, bare-breasted and deadly.

Valentina’s fingers tug at the knot of the scarf, slipping the silk through her fingers as she regards the man before her, twisting it into a tight coil until ready to spring, like her.

It’s those eyes, she realises. Stormy, grey, like a tumultuous ocean swallowing her body whole, ravaging and cleansing her all at once. She can’t stand to see them now. Tanaka doesn’t protest when she leans over him, unfurling the scarf to tie it around his head, blindfolding him. Ostensibly for control. She knows otherwise that his eyes will make her crumble down, dissolve into their depths.

Tanaka’s heart thumps, pressing against his ribcage furiously enough to shake his chest. Any argument cut off in his throat when he feels Valentina’s lips against it. His body begins to cover in a cold sweat, confused with the hurdling emotions inside: panic, guilt, anger, and underneath it all, arousal.

“Have you even showered yet,” she whispers against his skin, “or is this taste hers?” A hot tongue drags up the side of his neck until it touches the puff of his earlobe, teeth nipping. If Tanaka looks down past the tip of his nose, he can see her palms gripping the arms of the chair, the plush leather folding in. He can see the curve of her shoulder and the tail of the snake as she leans into him. And he can feel the warmth of her skin when she straddles him.

It’s not tight, her ass seated on the edge of his knees, but he feels heat anyway. It rolls off Valentina’s body in waves, washing over him so that he begins to pant. Nails rake up his chest, goosebumps pricking on his forearms which he keeps still, away from reaching out to wrap around her and bring their bodies together.

“Did she touch you like this?” Valentina’s hand wraps around his throat, the other drifting to the tent in Tanaka’s sweatpants. When she stops moving, he realises she expects a response.

“Nyet,” he grunts out, erection twitching beneath her palm, the vein in his neck swelling. 

A brisk exhale fans over his face, then he smells the peppercorn and vanilla of her skin as she lifts from his knees. She must be close, the static between his lips and her stomach electric. He bites his tongue to stop from tasting her skin. When she falls, her hand had shifted his erection from the loose constraints of his pants, free and standing to attention. There’s fire and rain, and Tanaka peers down to make out the black of Valentina’s underwear clinging to her slick folds, nestled against his groin. It provides slight relief, knowing she is aroused like him. 

She begins to roll her hips. On instinct, Tanaka shifts down into a slouch to bring her higher, to feel more friction. His fingers jump where they rest on the chair, fighting not to grab at her, palms sweating. For Valentina, this is easy. Men are so responsive, so easy to lead and dissuade, and fuck. They treat sex as though it is nothing.

It’s sex, Ryunoslav’s words echo in her hazy mind, her hands flying to his shoulders as though to bring her back to her actions. Focus on the movement, it tells her, and she grinds down onto him. She feels as he pants against her neck, her breasts moving to press against his chest so that he can feel all of her at once, reminded of what he missed. The jealousy in her heart pains her, knowing that it’s irrational to feel ownership over a man that is not truly her’s. But she feels it regardless. She wants him completely.

His neck is thick beneath her palm, veins beating steadily in time with the grinding of her hips. The line of her folds wrap around him, dragging up and down his length that when she looks down, she sees it weep. The tightening of his gut tells her even more and she grins almost wickedly.

“Does it feel good, Ryu?” she whispers against him, lips hovering teasingly above his own. Tanaka tries to close the gap. She’s near, yet so far away, unreachable in her anger.

“No, you don’t get to kiss me. Not when I’m your whore.”

He moans then, shamefully turned on by the hard edge of her voice and the soft skin wrapped around him, coaxing something out from within. 

“Val,” he utters her name under his breath, the fog in his mind not clearing as it builds higher, tighter. She can feel the storm brewing. His shoulders tense, forearms hovering as though-

“Do you want to touch me?” she bites at his ear, one of his most sensitive features. It takes Tanaka everything to hold back, his hips thrusting up desperately.

“Yes. God, yes.”

“What’s stopping you?”

Valentina watches as the gold, browns and pinks of her scarf wrinkle with his frown.

“You never said I could.”

She falters for a moment, taken aback by the worship and strain in his voice. This is why she covered his eyes, she never knew she had to gag him as well. Some of the ice in her heart begins to melt, dripping down her chest like the sweat on Ryunoslav’s forehead.

“Touch me.”

His hands are on her instantly. With her back under his calloused palms, he can feel every movement of her waist, her hips. He strokes up, her body memerised so thoroughly he can paint a replica of her in his mind. With the eyes tattooed on the back of his hands, he sees her. It was the last push he needed, the rain clouds in his mind bursting as he spills a storm over his abdomen, finding clarity. 

It’s wet, warm and cold simultaneously. He feels Valentina’s forehead fall to his shoulder, her spine shaking. There’s a sniff, the smallest of tears leaking into the dips of his muscled shoulders. With one hand, he presses her tightly, his ejaculation spreading messily between their bodies, the other rips the scarf from his eyes so he can drink in the sight of her, his nose nuzzled into her hair.

“Val...” he mumbles against her skin, fingers combing through the hair at her nape, lips finding contact with her neck, then temple. “Look at me, pazolvste.”

And when she does, the world stops. He tries to read the swirl of emotions in her eyes. Is it exhaustion? Arousal? Defeat? All three? Tanaka brushes sweaty strands from her neck, forehead, smoothing down the hair. Valentina glances at his lips, or her eyes drop, either way, with the next inhale, their lips meet.

Part 5 - Valentina

Tanaka tastes different. Tangy and bitter, the kind that makes you want to tear away, only to constantly come back for another sip, addicted. You’re sticky, the sweat from his chest and the spill of his seed spreading against your stomach, screaming at you to separate from him. Everything is telling you to stop.

But you can’t

And you never want to. His tongue swipes across the seam of your lips, and you happily oblige, too weary from the rollercoaster of emotions that had ripped through you to fight for dominance. Tanaka, however, doesn’t seem to mind, your tongues intertwining so seamlessly, you briefly wonder if you’ll ever separate them again.

He pulls apart to breathe, chest still heaving from his orgasm and your mind games. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, you realise what you’ve done, how full of blind rage and hurt you were. Tanaka registers the panic in your eyes, the way your mouth opens to say,

“I’m sorry.”

You’re suddenly smaller, eyes downcast to stare at his chest, tracing the outline of the Georgian cross tattooed over his heart, the eight point star on each shoulder beneath his collarbones, reminding you that you’re in a world of thieves. That you yourself are one, and you crossed a boundary tonight that you’ve never crossed before. In his residence. He lifts your chin with a steady finger, forcing you to stare into still, open waters.

“It’s okay.”

But it’s not, you’re not okay. Tanaka must’ve sensed the growing unease as you shift on his lap, knees still pressed tightly to his hips, his softened dick lazing against your groin.

“I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it,” his voice is a hushed whisper, washing over you.

“I should not have come here tonight.”

“I’m happy you did, Gadyuka.”

For some reason, you believe him, the tides in his eyes pulling you closer so that once again your lips melt into his and your heart drums in your throat. Ryunoslav unzips your boots, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. His hands find purchase beneath your rear, and he stands, lifting you so easily as he carries you through a small door and into the bathroom.

It smells like him: salty, humid, yet crisp, like cold mist when the seasons change. You reluctantly break apart when your feet touch the cool tile, and you look around while Ryu draws a bath. There’s no mirror over the sink--instead on the tiled wall opposite the shower--just a shelf with his electric razor, toothbrush and some creams. The thought that you’d like to shave his head flits across your mind, but you shake it out, turning to watch him fill a simple wooden bathtub with steaming water.

“Are you going to wash me like a child?” you ask, eyebrows raising to show your amusement. He chuckles, his eyes matching your teasing tone, the tension of before dissolving with the mist in the air.

“Nyet, unless you want me to,” he muses, eyes drifting across the splattered cotton against your skin. “You are dirty.”

You lick your teeth, taking in how he’s seated on the edge, sweatpants still haphazardly down his legs to show a hint of the tattoos and scars on the tops of his thighs, “so are you.”

He holds his arms out and you move to stand between his knees, warm hands trailing up your hamstrings, over the cups of your cheeks and peeling down your soiled black thong. You feel… calm, the rage and guilt subsiding to leave an empty stillness in its place, in your gut, where he rests his forehead and your fingers scrape his scalp.

You bathe first, Tanaka’s rough hands scraping away grime, before you switch and run your hands over his corded muscles. The moment is too intimate to speak, both of you barely even breathing as he wraps a towel around his waist and pulls a too long t-shirt over your head. It’s only when you’re out of the confines of the bathroom that he breaks the silence. 

“You’ll have to destroy the shirt when you leave,” Ryu observes, tugging at the shoulder seam so that the neckline centers on your body instead of dropping over one shoulder.

“Do you want me to leave?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest, fingers drumming in a quick beat against your forearms.

“Never.”

Shrugging, you turn on your heel and stride to the messy bed, ignoring the way your stomach flips as it remembers who was the last woman to touch it--that it wasn’t you--and climb onto the mattress. For the first time, you see Tanaka completely taken by surprise. He’s close to asking you ‘why?’ but thinks against it, hurtling after you to pull you into his arms, against his chest.

This is unchartered waters, the bed a dinghy and in his room are endless possibilities. But that’s where it starts and ends. You drag your fingers lazily up his forearm, over a few scars, tracing the bouquet of lilies drawn in thick black lines that stand off his skin; prison tattoos seldom heal flat.

“What does this mean?” you stare up at him, curious as you’ve never had much time to talk with him before, to delve deeper past your lust for each other. Ryunoslav clears his throat.

“It’s for my home,” he mumbles, nose moving to your hair, his eyes clouding over as he watches your fingers. “And my mother.”

The way he explains the beauty of the wild lilies in his home village of Kazakhstan, the bouquet his mother would pluck and keep on their table, sends shivers down your spine. Why would he ever have run away? You learn he has a sister, Saeko, who left with him and fell into the life of the thieves before him, and instead, he went to prison.

In this little bubble, you feel inexplicably warm, cosy, like the world has fallen away. You tell him about your own mother, how her eyes were incredibly warm and the colour of amber, but she never smiled. About how you grew up in Georgia surrounded by powerful men and strived to be just as important one day. Ryunoslav smiled at that, kissing your wrist where the fangs of the snake bit into.

He tells you about the years he spent in and out of juvenile prison in Moscow, unfurling the duvet to explain that each cathedral dome tattooed upon his leg meant time served. He had four. The rose on his left bicep meant he turned 18 in prison.

“The Boss found me a month after,” he recalls, eyes far away, “I’m forever thankful. I was very sick from the tattoo and I would have died if he didn’t take me away.”

Daichi, a part of you whispers. With the thought of your husband, you tense up, shifting until you’re sitting with your hand pressed to Tanaka’s beating heart.

“Ryunoslav,” you call, looking past his head and into the grain of the wood. “What are we going to do?”

“Mm?”

Your eyes snap to his, a cold sweat tickling your spine. You’ve crossed lines tonight, and not by a little. You’ve run so far past it, you can’t even see it if you turn back.

“He’ll know.”

Tanaka straightens up too, attentive to your words but eyes calm with a lazy smile.

“He won’t.”

“He will. Ryunoslav, I can’t keep this a secret now.”

Beneath your palm, you can feel his heartbeat, slow, while your own pounds in your ears.

“You have to. He’ll kill us.”

You stay silent, mulling over the sincerity in Tanaka’s statement. He says it nonchalantly, like it’s the only fact that matters. You want to tell him that you love him. You don’t. Instead, you lay your head back to his chest to listen to that steady, strong drum beneath his ribs. After a few seconds, you inhale deeply.

“I think Daichi is having an affair.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Tanaka says instantly, arms wrapping so tightly around you, as if you’ll vanish if he can’t feel you.

“Ryu-”

“Valentina, please. God knows we never get to be alone like this.” That brash, harsh tone you’re used to finally edges it’s way back into his voice. It should scare you, instead you huddle closer to him while he continues. “Even if he’s having an affair, aren’t we doing the same? Let us just be in this moment.”

Tanaka tucks you beneath his chin, the heartbeat in his jaw syncing with yours against his chest. You murmur a ‘fine’, mind still reeling from the evening's events and the intoxication of his lips.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, but you know he didn’t at all. Ryunoslav shakes you awake, whispering that you have to go, that Daichi gets back in the late afternoon. When the coat is wrapped around you and your fingers hover over the door, you look at him as he frowns at you.

“We should not see each other for a few days,” he states. Although his voice is calm, his chest vibrates with nerves. You know it’s the last thing he wants. You agree anyway, with a slight nod of your head.

***

NEXT CHAPTER

Thank you for reading.

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[neonacity]

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him. 

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks." 

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him. 

"How much money do you need?" 

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa. 

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?" 

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup. 

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?" 

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about." 

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink. 

"You think you can do it?" 

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips. 

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal." 

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering. 

"It depends on the reason." 

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said. 

"The reason?" 

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it." 

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to." 

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work. 

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that." 

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter. 

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned. 

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me? 

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour? 

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button. 

"Hello?" 

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice. 

"Jisung?" 

"Noona, we need your help." 

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin." 

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark. 

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard. 

"Give me the phone." 

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening." 

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open. 

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name. 

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood. 

"Oh my god." 

"Please help us." 

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it. 

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again. 

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features. 

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please." 

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders. 

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me. 

"Thank you." 

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed. 

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing. 

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now. 

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well. 

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions. 

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?" 

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear. 

I stared at him for a bit before looking away. 

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much." 

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk." 

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time. 

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?" 

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze. 

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped. 

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock. 

"A…" 

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met. 

"I'm sorry." 

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection." 

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help. 

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment. 

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still. 

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No. 

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back." 

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it." 

Please don't leave me. 

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips. 

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him. 

---

Chapter 4

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V

Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.

Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”

Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.

The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.

Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.

He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.

Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.

Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.

If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,

The lights being on make me feel safe.

It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.

This fire makes him feel safe now.

He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.

But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.

He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.

Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.

He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,

Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.

It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.

And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————

“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.

“Francisco.”

“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”

“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”

“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.

A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”

He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.

Little ways she says mine.

And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.

He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”

Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”

“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.

Don’t leave me, it says.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”

His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.

“Yeah, baby?”

He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.

“I have nightlights.”

The light makes her feel safe too. —————

He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.

Relief mingled with guilt.

Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.

Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.

Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.

Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.

His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.

At least I can feel my fucking head.

He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.

The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.

He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.

The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.

He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.

Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.

He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.

What a present to bring home.

It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.

If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.

Others tied up in a flag with a bow.

Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.

I should’ve done more.

He’s not getting a purple heart for this.

I should’ve held on tighter.

He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.

I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.

Another family he’s failed to protect.

I should’ve said no. —————

The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.

Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.

“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.

“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”

Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.

I'm right here, it says.

“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”

“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.

“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”

He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”

“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”

“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”

Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”

He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”

“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”

“Debatable.”

“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”

He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”

“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”

He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”

She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.

“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”

His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”

He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.

He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.

Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.

He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.

“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”

He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.

His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ 

[one-boring-person]

Too Bad, Sweetheart. (Part One)

The Expendables x reader

Warnings: swearing, death, gun use, injury, alcohol consumption

Context: after an incident on a job, the reader is "let go" from the team, only for them to realise they want them back.

A/n: I hope this isn't as bad as I think it is 😅

This reached the "long post" limit thing, so I'm uploading it in two parts

Masterlist

After having spent years in a profession where I often have people trying to kill me in my own home, my mind has easily become attuned to when something is wrong, and right now, something is definitely off. Standing before the door of my dingy apartment, I feel a frown crease my brow as I look over the battered door, my hand instinctively moving to the small of my back, where my pistol is tucked into my jeans, as it always is, the other hand going to take hold of the door handle. I pause where I am, uncaring of how stupid I must look, listening closely to the area around me, tuning out all external sounds except the telltale ones of some person coming towards me. 

There's nothing, only heavy silence.

Not quite trusting the thick quiet, I try the handle, only half surprised when it's unlocked, the door cracking open with a soft noise. Cursing internally, I push it open completely, making sure no one is stood behind it as I wait just before the threshold in case there's someone on the other side. Nothing happens, so I step inside, drawing my gun and holding it by my side, cocking it with one hand.

Swinging the door closed behind me, I stand in the darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to swiftly adjust, sweeping the room as I do so, easily locating the intruder. A figure is sat, facing away from me, on my worn old couch, the silhouette easily recognisable to me, even from the little I can see. Instantly, I feel the low burn of anger bite at the back of my throat, my face falling into a state of blankness as I make my way over to him, having made sure the rest of the room is safe, my steps slow and soft, though I know he is aware of my presence. To my surprise, however, he doesn't move. Not even when I press the cold muzzle of the gun up against his skull.

"Get out." I order him, keeping my voice level and cold as I hold the gun to his head.

"And "hello" to you, too." The familiar voice snarks back at me, his British accent as thick as the last time I heard it.

"I'm not gonna ask again." I ignore his greeting, pushing lightly with the gun until his head tips forwards slightly.

Slowly, the man stands, turning to face me, my gun pointed directly at his forehead as he trains scrutinizing eyes on me.

"You ain't looking so good, (Y/n). Out of work?" He questions, reaching over to flick on the desk light on the coffee table, casting us both in a warm light. Lee's features seem softer like this, though there's a harshness behind his eyes.

At his comment, I feel a poisonous scowl etch itself onto my face, my anger flaring up now. My grip on the gun tightens.

"Get out." I repeat, my voice strained now as I hold back my seething fury.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" He scoffs, stepping away from my gun and going over to the wall, turning on the main light.

"That's generally what a gun is used for." I reply, keeping the weapon trained on him.

Lee shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"In my experience, it's always more of a scare-tactic." The mercenary remarks, before he gestures to the room around us, "This is a bit of a downgrade."

Again, I feel myself start to seethe, my muscles going tight, his comments starting to rile me up.

"Get. The fuck. Out." I snap, nodding to the door, clenching my jaw tightly.

"Easy, it was just an observation." Lee furrows his brow, "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do." I scoff, scowling harder.

"Yeah, we do actually."

"What makes you think I want to talk?" I practically snarl, fed up with his pestering.

"Not much, doesn't mean we're not gonna." He shrugs again, a smirk playing briefly at the corners of his mouth, "We need you back on the team."

Silence settles on us. A look of disbelief crosses my face, followed by outrage, then anger, before settling on cynical amusement. I can't stop the sharp, dry laugh that escapes me.

"Do you, now?" I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the rolling anger in my gut.

"Yeah, we've got a job that we're gonna need your expertise on. We thought about others, but Barney insisted it was you. I know you left and all-" He starts, watching me hopefully, only for me to interrupt him.

"Hold on, I left? Last I checked, you assholes fired me." I growl, unbelievably angry now.

"Err, well, yeah, but we made a mistake. We need you back, (Y/n), we've gotta do this, and we need you to help. Barney wants to take you on again. He regrets letting you go, and so do the rest of us. We miss you, (Y/n). Please come back." Lee nearly pleads with me, stepping forwards.

"Give me a break, Christmas. What makes you think I want to go with you? After what you all did to me?" I bite back, gesturing around myself, "You think you can break into my "downgraded" apartment, tell me I look like shit and ask if I'm "out of work" after everything that happened? Jesus, Christmas, did you guys get gassed or something?"

He's speechless. Blinking, he stares at me, fumbling for words.

"Sure, at one time, that might have been banter. Maybe we'd have joked about it, and we'd have teased each other. But now?" I laugh wryly, "Not in your wildest dreams, Christmas."

Again he struggles to find words, an occurrence I remember being scarce, the Brit always having something to say.

"Now, get the hell out of my apartment before I shoot. And no, I won't hesitate." I order him, nodding to the door again.

With a sigh, Lee casts me one last look, before he goes to the door and steps out, clearly defeated.

*

Gunfire pelts the air around me, my own gun spitting back at my attackers as I peek out from behind the fallen crate, my ears ringing from the barrage of sound. A wound at my hip bleeds profusely, a bullet somehow having managed to get past my body armour and to skin, leaving me with an injury that'll most likely scar.  At this moment, I don't care, my attention focused on the targets across the room, adrenaline making it impossible to feel too much pain in any case, allowing me to take out the enemies with relative ease. To my left, I can hear Toll and Caesar shouting at each other, the latter bringing out one of his heavier guns as they chase a unit of soldiers only a nearby hallway, leaving me alone in the room with the other killers.

Gritting my teeth, I feel the clip come to an end, meaning I have to drop back behind cover and reload, swiftly unfastening the magazine. Throwing it aside, I go to take up a new one, only to realise I'm totally out, leaving me with my pistol and a couple of knives. I swing the rifle onto my back, taking out my pistol and cocking it, before I lean back out of safety, shooting a couple of shots.

All of them hit, leaving me in an empty room, my breathing hard and ragged as I try to recover. Leaning back against the crate, I nearly have time to catch my breath again before the gunfire starts again. 

This time, it's only from one gun, a handheld pistol of sorts, probably like mine, the owner not shooting at anything in particular. Frowning, I glance around, my eyes widening as I see who it is.

It's our target, Pierce Fenwick, the rogue mercenary stepping into the centre of the room with a smirk, his eyes on mine. Confused, I raise my gun, ready to shoot if he does, painfully aware of my orders to keep him alive. They'd stressed this: keep the target alive, he's needed for questioning. I had no problem with this, but I'm still wary of him.

The final shot ricochets off of the walls, leaving the room in silence again, the report ringing out around the space. 

"I know you're there. You might as well come out." Fenwick calls out, his smirk evident in his voice, "I'm not gonna shoot."

Not quite believing him, I wait a couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, I know you need me, so I'll go quietly." He tries again, his conviction finally persuading me to hesitantly stand and face him.

"Ah, there you are." He grins mockingly, "Here to get me?"

Staying quiet, I edge forwards, my gun aimed at his head.

"Too bad, sweetheart. I don't intend on going anywhere. At least not in this life." With that, he lifts his own gun, pressing it against his forehead. 

I have time to widen my eyes before the gunshot tears through the quiet, leaving me standing in front of a collapsing body.

Instantly, horror fills me, dread and despair flooding my being as I step forwards, only to hear a pair of sharp intakes of breath behind me. Spinning on my heel, I see Barney and Lee standing there, Toll, Caesar and Gunnar quickly joining them. All of them carry shocked faces.

"What the fuck have you done?!" Barney finally manages, his tone low and laced with fury.

Confused, I glance between them and the body, only now realising what it looks like. Eyes widening, I turn back to them, raising my hands.

"I didn't shoot him! He shot himself!" I try to argue, but it's already too late.

The boys shoot me foul looks as they file past, heading to the body to see if there's any way of recovering him. Finding none, they turn to me, scowl in place.

"Nice one, (Y/n)." Gunnar growls, walking away.

"What? I didn't do anything!" I try to reply, only for the others to step past me, all except Barney, who stops before me.

"We're not blind, or stupid. You've just cost us the entire job, and that's a lot of money. We had specific orders to keep him alive, and you disobeyed them." Barney sighs, his expression furious, "We'll fly you back, but once you're there get your stuff from the hangar."

My mouth falls open as he leaves me there, not quite able to understand what just happened.

Part Two

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, mentions of abuse, violence, STALKING, HARASSMENT, eventual KIDNAPPING/NON-CON

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

The man behind the counter welcomed you with a warm smile as you approached. Maybe he could sense your uneasiness as you hesitantly placed your hands on the counter, looking at him with a nervous smile.

“Hi,” you quietly greeted. “Um… I need a gun.”

The brunette chuckled, blue eyes filled with mirth as he eyed you.

“No kidding,” he replied, gesturing around to the rest of the gun and hunting and supplies store.

“Right,” you chuckled. “I just… I need something small and easy to handle.”

You bit your lip, and his face slowly grew solemn as he ran his eyes over you.

“You don’t look like a hunting kind of gal,” he quietly insinuated.

You shook your head.

“No.”

He nodded in understanding before inhaling as he straightened, turning to eye the wall behind him. He paced, eyes roaming over the assortment of guns, and you took the time to look around. Never in your life did you imagine yourself in a place like this, but you were tired of being a sitting duck in someone else’s twisted games. You’d been through that once already…

“Here…”

You turned, eyes falling to the small gun in his hand as he neared the counter again. It was small enough to throw into your purse or hide in your car, whenever you got a license, and it looked easy enough to operate. It was perfect.

“I want this one,” you told him.

“Figured you would. It’s a Ruger LC9. It’s a 9mm caliber semi-automatic. Super simple to operate and will still get the job done,” he murmured.

He showed you how to load it, turning the magazine over and going over its features. You nodded as you followed along and grabbed your wallet without hesitation. He eyed you again as he took your cash.

“You talk to the police?”

“For what?” you wondered.

“For whatever’s got a girl like you buying a gun on a Monday morning,” he explained.

You sighed.

“Yeah, I’ve talked to them, but since no crime has been committed, there isn’t much they can do. I refuse to just sit around and wait for someone to hurt me. I’m done with that,” you told him.

He nodded and stuck his hand out.

“The name’s Clint. If you have any questions or…need to come back here, you know how to find me.”

You shook his hand and threw him a grateful smile.

“Thanks.”

The weapon felt so heavy in your purse, and even though the safety was on, you were careful in placing the bag in your car. The ride home was spent stewing over your thoughts. There was too much that you had to consider, and instead of spending the rest of the summer making lesson plans for when school started back, you were worrying about some stranger stalking your house at night.

Here you were doing the cops’ job for them.

That thought drew your mind to Officer Rogers, and you clenched your jaw. There was a time when you gave people the benefit of the doubt, but after your marriage, you couldn’t afford to do that anymore. How glad you were to be wary of the blond cop from the beginning.

His behavior had officially crossed questionable and dove straight into terrifying. You feared to imagine what would have happened had you accepted his proposal for dinner. You didn’t understand his behavior…not one bit. Was he punishing you for turning him down? Surely, that couldn’t be it. It seemed so…silly. Childish even.

Wanda had stated that just about every woman in town had been trying to lock down the man since he moved here. You could believe it. You’d have to be hard of seeing to deny how attractive he was, and coupled with his profession, you could definitely see why he was popular with the women in town. He was a seemingly kind man with the face of an angel, sworn to protect those in need. He was like something out of a cheesy romance novel.

You knew better though.

You’d been on the receiving end of his gaslighting tactics, his nicely veiled threats, and his wandering hands. The real kicker about his behavior though, was that he hadn’t done anything concrete enough to go to anyone with. None of what he did was objectively outright enough to report him with. Wanda had already asked you if you’d misunderstood his quip about your past abuse. You could just imagine anyone else’s face when you told them of how he brushed your waist and held your hand. ‘Oh, the horror!’ they’d say.

You hid your gun in your nightstand as soon as you got inside of your house. You hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it. You’d never been the type to resort to violence, but your ex-husband had changed all of that. If the cops wouldn’t do their job and protect you, without an incentive, then you’d do it yourself.

Hours later, you did just that.

You were half asleep anyway, having been going in and out of consciousness all night. The noise had come from the front of your yard this time, and you peeled your eyes open, slowly blinking as you heard it again. You had swiftly flicked the switch on your lamp and slipped your hand into your drawer to grab the weapon you’d bought.

You licked your lips, slowly sitting up. You looked down, making sure that the safety was off just before exiting your room. It was quiet outside as you quietly crept downstairs. You felt silly, standing in your living room in your oversized t-shirt, both hands on this toy-sized gun. You glanced at all of the windows, and when you didn’t see anything, you crept into the kitchen.

The silence made you nervous because you knew he was still out there. You turned towards the window and didn’t see anyone through the curtain. You weren’t convinced though, and you remained still. Sure enough, a bulky silhouette came into view as they glided past the kitchen. With wide eyes, you raised your arms, the gunshot making your ears ring as glass shattered.

You watched as he clutched his arm before taking off, a deep grunt traveling through the broken window. Hurriedly, you ran after him, throwing the door open before sprinting outside. Your yard was empty, and you had your gun raised before you as you paced the yard, spinning around. It was quiet…empty of anyone else it seemed.

They were gone, but fortunately, you knew that you’d hit them. You were just about to lower your weapon when you had a thought. With wide eyes, you ran back into the house. You were quick in grabbing your phone from upstairs before sprinting back outside. You turned the flashlight on as you neared the grass just below your window.

There, before you, were a few spots of blood, and hope bloomed in your chest. You let out a chuckle, feeling confident for the first time in a while. You put the safety back on the gun and laid it on the kitchen counter as soon as you were back inside. You grabbed a paper towel, stepping back out into the cool night air. You were wiping up the blood with the napkin when red and blue flashes suddenly filled your vision.

You stood and turned, watching as a police cruiser parked along your curb. The cop who stepped out was familiar to you, but it wasn’t the last person you wanted to see. Bucky strode across your yard to approach you, a less than enthusiastic look on his face.

“We got a call about gunshots. They listed your residence as the source,” he said as soon as he was close enough.

Your lips parted, and you glanced away. The blue-eyed man sighed at that.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he admonished.

“What other choice did I have? None of you can do anything until I get hurt, and why would I wait around for that? The state doesn’t require a license to keep one on my property. It was self-defense,” you defended.

He frowned at that, running his eyes over you, alarmed.

“What was self-defense?” he slowly questioned.

You shoved the napkin at him, and his eyes widened.

“I shot him…Officer Barnes. I know I did! I got him in the arm, and now you have his blood, his DNA! You can test it, see if there’s a match in the system-.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he said, attempting to calm you down.

You hadn’t realized that you were talking so fast, and you apologized.

“Here,” you said, turning to walk into your house.

He followed you, watching as you put the bloody napkin into a Ziplock bag before handing it to him. He gingerly took it, eyeing it before heaving a sigh.

“Well…the evidence is pretty damning. We’ll test it as soon as possible,” he eventually said.

Sighing in relief, you nodded. You watched as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes, and it struck you how much like Steve’s they were.

“Ms. Y/L/N…is there anyone who’d want to hurt you? Anyone at all?”

You opened your mouth to reply in the negative when you suddenly froze. Familiar blond hair and blue eyes came to mind, and you blinked, a realization falling over you.

“Killian,” you murmured as if just remembering him.

“Sorry?”

You shook your head, eyes meeting Bucky’s again.

“M-my ex-husband. He’s the only one I can think of…”

“I assume it ended badly?”

“That’s an understatement,” you scoffed. “He was advised by his lawyers to go through with the divorce when I filed. It wasn’t his choice, at all, but it was in his best interest.”

The other man simply stared at you.

“He wasn’t…a good man. Not at all. I wish I could say all of it was verbal and psychological, but I had no choice but to come clean when I landed in the hospital. It wasn’t looking good for him and refusing to go through with the divorce would make him look worse,” you explained.

Bucky sharply inhaled, nodding.

“I see…”

“I…can’t believe that I’d never considered him before. He has money, but I’d never thought he’d find me so quickly,” you murmured.

Bucky made his way to the door, and you followed.

“I’ll get this down to the station. You be careful with that gun,” he advised, and you nodded. “Have a good night.”

And for the first time in weeks, you did.

“You look well rested,” Wanda complimented, bringing your plate to you.

You returned her smile with a genuine one of your own.

“I feel well rested. Hopeful, actually,” you replied.

“That’s good! So I take it things are a lot better at your place, now?”

“They will be,” you cheerily said, digging into your food.

“I’m glad to hear it, and what great timing too. It seems like Steve might be out of commission for a few days,” she told you. “So, it won’t be him responding to any 911 calls.”

You blinked up at her. You couldn’t care less about the blond cop in any way, and the information actually filled you with relief, but your curiosity got the better of you.

“Why?”

“He was shot,” was her simple response.

However, it made you feel anything but simple. You almost dropped your fork as you eyed her, brows furrowing as your heart dropped to your stomach.

“…what?”

“Yeah, in the arm…”

It felt like someone took a knife to your chest.

“…the word is that he was involved in a hunting accident.”

You forced yourself to swallow, mind whirling.

“When?”

She hummed, thinking.

“The day before yesterday, I believe,” she answered.

You wanted to be relieved at that, that it wasn’t last night, but…it all seemed too coincidental. No…there was no way. The thought alone made you want to be sick.

“How…awful,” you whispered.

“I know,” she pouted. “I’m baking him a cake tonight. Figured I’d head up to his house to deliver it to him.”

You pressed your lips together, trying, and failing, to talk yourself out of what you were about to do. You knew that you were paranoid, you’d never deny that, but you owed it to yourself. If only to quell your fears. You had to see…

“Uh…when are you heading over?”

“Probably in the morning,” she said just before welcoming some customers in.

“Can I come with? I’d like to check in on him too…”

She looked at you with a sly smile, and you grimaced.

“Growing on you, is he?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed. “It’s just… He’s always entertaining my concerns, responding to every call I’ve made. I feel like the least I can do is check on him, you know?”

She nodded, buying your lie.

“That’s really sweet of you. I’ll swing by your house around 8,” she said. “He lives pretty far out, so it’ll take about 45 minutes to get there.”

You nodded, and she left to go deal with some customers.

You swallowed, appetite lost, and you pushed your plate away. Your paranoia was really getting the best of you because a part of you actually believed that the person you shot last night was Officer Rogers. It was the most outlandish thing to think. The man was an officer of the law, and even though he proved that he didn’t deserve that title, there was a pretty big gap in between some creepy touches and a full-blown stalker.

You knew how it would sound if you voiced your fears to Wanda. People hunted around here all the time, hunting cabins forever common. It was perfectly believable, but…it seemed too coincidental. Besides, you figured there was no harm in seeing for yourself just to put your fears to rest. However, a small voice in your head wondered what you would do if you didn’t put them to rest at all, but only increased them?

What if you only confirmed your suspicions?

This plagued you all throughout the night and well into the morning when Wanda pulled into your yard. You locked up your house and hurried to her car, goosebumps rising on your flesh from the cool early morning air.

“So how far does he live?” you asked as soon as you were in the car.

“Do you remember where Dr. Banner lived before he left town?”

You nodded.

“Past that,” she replied, and you blinked.

“Why so far out?” you wondered.

“Steve likes his privacy. Plus, he’s really a nature kind of guy. Homebody too. I know our town is no New York, but even it gets a bit too much for him sometimes,” she explained.

“Being secluded in a big house with Steve Rogers, out in the woods, sounds like something most women would be interested in. He definitely strikes me as the type to want kids and the whole nine, so why hasn’t he ever taken any offers? You said it yourself that he’s had plenty…”

You were beginning to realize that you didn’t know much about this man, at all. It seemed strange that someone like him hadn’t dated anyone in 6 years. You already knew that there was definitely something wrong with him, but could there be more? Like making you feel unsafe in your own home more?

“I don’t know,” she hummed. “He did have a short thing with Peggy when he first got here-.”

“Peggy? I could see that,” you said to yourself, wondering what had happened.

Wanda answered your unspoken question.

“Yeah, it didn’t last very long though,” she sighed. “She left as soon as it ended. I never did find out what happened exactly, but she was just gone one day. House emptied of everything, and her car was gone. I guess it ended pretty badly. Steve never talks about it.”

You frowned at that. You’d known Peggy growing up, and that didn’t seem like her. Unlike you, she was never the type to just take off. But so many years had passed. Steve came to town about 4 years after you left, and a lot could happen in 4 years. People could change, and you supposed that’s what had happened.

The rest of the car ride was filled with idle talk about things that had happened in the years. Wanda told you about her boyfriend, Vis. He’d move here about two years ago, and he apparently made her very happy. She’d been lonely ever since her brother Pietro had moved away not long after you did, and Vis apparently made her smile more.

Eventually the topic somehow came back to Steve...and Bucky and Sam.

“His name is James, but everyone calls him Bucky. Him and Sam were roommates in college and just remained that way ever since. They both moved down here about…4 years ago? They’re all like 3 peas in a pod, like brothers…”

Sam was Officer Wilson. You’d seen him in passing a few times, usually with Bucky. He seemed nice enough.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if one, or both, of them was up here already,” she said, taking a left into the trees.

The driveway was paved and long, curving every which way before it eventually straightened out. You realized that the car was going up an incline, and thick trees surrounded you on both sides. When Wanda said that he liked his privacy, she wasn’t exaggerating. The seclusion of it all could be considered peaceful if you ignored who lived here.

She pulled up in front of a nice two-story house, the light blue paint standing out amongst the dark trees. You had the small cake in one hand while you closed the car door with the other. You admired the scenery as you followed her. It was beautiful, there was no denying that, but the battered woman in you couldn’t help but to think how easy it would be to get away with anything. If you screamed, nobody would hear you.

You followed her around the side of the house towards the back deck, and with a start, you realized that the hill that the house sat on led down to a rather large lake. Fog hovered over the water in the early morning, and your lips parted at the sight, eyes running over the thick trees on the other side.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“He had it built before he officially moved down here. I don’t blame him for spending all of his free time at home. Who’d want to leave this?”

She knocked on the backdoor, and your nerves spiked as you realized that you would soon be coming face to face with the erasure of your fears…or something that would only worsen them. It took a few minutes before you heard him approaching the door. A greeting was already on his lips when he opened it, but it died when his eyes landed on you.

“Wanda…and Ms. Y/L/N. Come on in,” he greeted, stepping back.

“Hey, Steve. I wanted to bring that cake by before I had to go to work,” she said with a smile.

You followed her inside and shuddered when your shoulder grazed Steve’s chest.

“Y/N wanted to check on you too, make sure you’re alright,” Wanda added.

You looked at him with a small smile, noticing the long-sleeved shirt he had on.

“It’s the least I can do after responding to all of my calls,” you told him.

He returned the smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I appreciate that,” he whispered. “You can just put it on the counter.”

He gestured to the kitchen, with his right arm you noted, and you followed his instruction. You could hear him and Wanda talking in the living room while you slid the plate on the granite countertop. You glanced around, noting how homey it looked. You weren’t sure why that surprised you.

“Rough night?” you heard Wanda ask him as soon as you reentered the living room

Your eyes followed as she gestured to the several empty beer cans on the tv stand. Steve chuckled, placing his right hand on his hip, the left hanging limply at his side.

“Hardly. Sam and Buck came by last night. We just got into a few beers, watching some game that was on,” he replied.

You licked your lips.

“How’s your arm? Wanda told me it was a hunting accident…”

His gaze met yours, and the corner of his lip quirked up into a small smirk. He gestured to his arm, his left one, and relief filled you as he spoke.

“Yeah, Sam and I got a little careless out there. It’s just a graze, but nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he responded.

Wanda chuckled at that while you fought not to sneer. You were just thankful that you’d put your fears to bed. The man you’d shot last night, you’d gotten him in his right arm. Steve was injured in his left, and you allowed yourself to breathe now.

“Can I use your bathroom?” you suddenly asked him.

“Yeah, sure! Just down the hall there,” he told you, gesturing behind him.

You thanked him and walked past him, Wanda’s voice reaching your ears as she asked him something. You went for the first door on your right, hand on the handle, when you were startled by a presence.

You looked up as Steve placed his hand on the small of your back, eyes widening as he pushed you along. His fingers pressed into your waist, and you shrunk in on yourself, a frown covering your features at his close proximity.

“Not that one,” he quietly told you. “That’s the basement.”

Your eyes met his now, and you quickly looked away at the intensity there.

“This one’s the bathroom,” he continued, opening a door, and flicking on the light for you.

You murmured a quiet ‘thanks’, flinching when he squeezed your hip one last time before returning to the living room. Your jaw clenched. He may not have been a stalker, but he was still a creep.

“I... I don’t understand. How long does it take to test some blood?”

The policewoman before you pursed her lips, arms resting on her desk.

“It can take up to a few days-.”

“Which it has been.”

“Yes, but the sample has to be sent to a lab, and we have to wait for the results,” she explained. “I understand your concern…”

“Do you?” you mumbled.

She chuckled, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I do. Why do you think I have the job I have anyway? I like being able to protect myself and other people,” she told you. “There was a time when I wasn’t able to…”

You sighed, glancing around the busy station. It was empty of a certain blond cop, and you were happy.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. You’re also a woman, so there’s no doubt that you definitely understand what I’m feeling. I just…I have to know who this person is. I don’t feel safe in my own house.”

“I know,” she replied. “Steve talks about you a lot.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, face falling.

“…he does?”

She hummed.

“He wishes that he could do more,” she said. “He worries about you. Of course, with this blood sample, I imagine he’ll be doing a lot more worrying. This is proof that someone is out there every night, messing with you.”

“Do you think this will be enough to convince your boss to let someone stakeout my house?”

She mulled it over, humming.

“You know what? It might be. I’ll definitely bring it up,” she replied, and hope bloomed within you.

You fidgeted in your seat, worrying your lip, and she frowned.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?” she asked.

Her tone of voice told you that she knew you did, so you figured it was best to just come right out and say it.

“If you are able to get someone to watch my house at night…can it not be Officer Rogers?”

Her frown deepened, and she ran her eyes over you. She leaned in, a red strand grazing the side of her face as she studied.

“Now why would you request that?”

You didn’t feel like you had a valid reason to give her, not one that she’d believe anyway. Steve was a town favorite, so you had to come up with something that would make her listen to you.

“You and Officer Rogers are friends, right? You care about him?”

“Of course,” she said, urging you to continue.

“I know that he worries about me, and that’s why I think someone else should be assigned to this. If it gets approved, of course. I just worry that lines may start to blur…”

She straightened up at that.

“How do you mean?”

You let out a soft sigh.

“He did ask me to dinner a while back, and seeing as I only recently got divorced, I refused. I’m just not ready, and I know that he understands and has no problem waiting, but…”

You chuckled.

“He’s just so sweet. I still feel so bad about it, and I don’t want to make this any harder on him. Until I’m ready, I don’t want to give him the wrong idea. I think it’d be best for everyone if an objective pair of eyes were on this. Especially for his sake…”

She hummed, nodding in understanding.

“No, Ms. Y/L/N, that’s perfectly reasonable. I’m glad to hear that Steve is finally trying to get back into the dating pool though,” she said, standing, and you followed her lead. “It took him long enough.”

You simply threw her a smile.

“Well, thank you for listening to me, and please, call me as soon as those lab results come back.”

“I will,” she promised.

Your shoulders felt lighter as you stepped out of the police station. Soon, you could find out who was tormenting you and they’d be locked up. In addition, you wouldn’t have to deal with Steve for a while…or ever again. You could finally breathe again. Soon you’d have nothing at all to deal with aside from lesson plans, and bratty kids were nothing in comparison to this.

As you neared your yard, you realized, with disappointment, that you would be eating your words. A sleek black car was parked on the curb, and it took a minute for you to realize that it belonged to Steve. You’d just seen him a few days ago, so you were unsure why he was paying you a visit. Apprehension filled you as you parked.

He was already out of his car and slowly making his way towards you when you stepped out of your own. You sent him a tense smile, standing beside your driver’s door as you eyed him.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he greeted.

“Officer Rogers.”

“I came by to thank you for the cake,” he told you.

“Oh,” you said with a frown, shaking your head. “There’s no need. Wanda made it. I just carried it in the house.”

You brushed past him, nearing your house, and you could hear him following.

“Still. It was very thoughtful of you to come by and check on me. Especially considering the night you had before…”

You paused and turned to look at him, brows furrowed. He had one foot on your steps while you stood on the porch, neat blond hair pushed away from his face.

“…sorry?”

“Bucky. He told me about what happened,” he explained.

“Ah,” you softly said.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. Wanda did say they were like brothers, after all.

“I confess that’s partially why I’m here. I wanted to see how you were fairing. That must have been terrifying for you,” he admitted, blue eyes inquiring as they drank you in.

You glanced down.

“Yeah…it was, but…I didn’t have much of a choice,” you said, looking at him. “I know you all are just doing your job, and I suppose I can’t blame you for that, but… I couldn’t just sit around and wait for someone to hurt me.”

He hummed, eyeing you.

“So do you know who it is?”

You shook your head.

“No, but I did get some of his blood. I talked to Officer Romanoff today, and she said that the lab results should be in any day, now,” you repeated what she had told you.

He nodded, making his way onto your porch now, and you stumbled back.

“Look, if you need-.”

“Officer Rogers,” you boldly interrupted, giving him pause.

His blue eyes were focused entirely on you as you swallowed, determined to put an end to this.

“Um… I have something to say…”

He straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared you down, waiting for you to continue. Your tongue darted out to swipe over your bottom lip, and you took a deep breath.

“I’ve always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Always, but…since my ex-husband, I don’t think I can really afford to do that anymore. For my own sake…”

Steve’s eyes had darkened, and you fought to hold his gaze.

“Your behavior makes me uncomfortable…and I want to say that perhaps you aren’t aware of it, but I don’t believe that. I think you know how you make me feel.”

You watched as he looked down his nose at you, jaw clenching and eyes hard, and you forced yourself to continue.

“If I offended you…or hurt you when I turned you down, that wasn’t my intention. Believe me, that was the farthest thing from my mind, and I don’t appreciate you acting so inappropriately towards me for it.”

His chest heaved with his deep breath, and you watched the way his cheek poked out, probably from his tongue. Satisfied with yourself, you took a step back.

“That’s all I had to say,” you finished, turning to go inside.

“Ms. Y/L/N, wait,” he finally spoke, reaching for your arm.

“Officer Rogers, please! I-.”

Your words were cut off by his loud grunt, pain lacing his tone. You had reached out to push him away, not liking the way he’d grabbed you. You frowned, chest clenching, feeling like someone had dropped a bucket of ice water over you as you watched him clutch his arm…his right arm.

He had reached for your right arm with his right hand, and in retaliation, you’d turned and pushed your left hand against…his right arm. Realization hit you, and your eyes widened as you looked at him with different eyes. Eyes filled with a fear unlike any other you’d ever experienced.

You stumbled back, heart dropping into your stomach as his gaze finally met yours. He opened his mouth to speak, but you were already rushing inside, locking the door behind you just as his fist banged against it.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head.

He didn’t knock again, and you moved to the side, watching his silhouette through the curtains. It was getting late, the setting sun casting shadows everywhere, and feeling like you were going to be sick, you noted that the shape looked awfully familiar. He just stood there for a painful amount of time before eventually taking a step back and leaving altogether.

You placed your hand on your couch, struggling to stand. It was no use. You collapsed to the floor on your knees, taking your table and lamp with you, the fragile décor shattering upon impact with the floor. You pressed your hand to your forehead, entire body trembling as you realized what your subconscious had always suspected.

Officer Steve Rogers was the one tormenting you every night.

 ~

tags: @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @captainchrisstan @nickyl316h @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @readermia @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose​

 @coconutqueen21​ @briannab1234​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @lou-la-lou​ @izzfizzh​ @thatgirly81​

[bibbykins]

So, I just caught up on the mafia series having been offline for a few months (immaculate, as with everything you write) and I have a question if you don’t mind. What's it like when Namjoon and Jungkooks partners interrogate someone together? I want to hear about them wreaking havoc together because we stan strong female relationships

Hi! Welcome back and thank you! And in short? A bloody nightmare and I’m so glad you asked! This turned out waaay longer than I planned but it was fun to write anyway!

Edit: Let me add Namjoon's and Jungkook’s fic for background

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: gore, sadistic women, misogyny sorta (man thinking of woman as a bitch), blood, knives, talk of pain, manipulation, torture, mention of smoking

“Alright, so you won’t talk?” Jungkook huffed at the silent middle-aged man before him, looking at his watch as he clicked his tongue, “Well, I have a meeting to get to.” He shrugged, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Ah, looks like our time with you is up.” Namjoon concealed his smirk.

“Luck you, Seungwon.” Jimin mused, but it almost seemed sarcastic, “Well, do you want to tell us where you funneled the cash? Last chance.”

The man, scoffed, “Or what? You’ll kill me? Leave me here to starve for a night?” He mocked, knowing if he died the money would be lost, and leaving him for a night is nothing compared to the elusive plastic lining the walls and floor of the dingy basement room.

This made Namjoon break into a clean smirk, “No, no, we’ve... evolved.” 

A knock at the door made all the men turn to the thick metal of it as the silver doorknob turned. He expected some lackey to gather the men for a meeting, or really anything other than the smiling girl that peaked her head in, “Koo?” She called and the man in question broke out into a goofy smile as the girl basically skipped inside, wearing a pink sundress with a light green cardigan.

“Hi, baby!” He scooped the girl up, giving her a twirl and a kiss on the lips as she giggled, “How’s my Honey doing?” He cooed as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Good! I got up early today, made your lunch- it’s in the fridge, don’t forget- and Junebug and I met up with the wedding planner to work on invitations and whatnot, she’s such a doll!” She gushed and Seungwon scrunched his nose as the engaged couple fussed over one another. 

He always wondered what made such a ruthless man like Jungkook bend to the will of someone like her. He had only ever seen the elusive “Honey” in passing, never introduced since Jungkook kept his fiancee’s identity limited to him and his brothers. Although he did understand why he hid her away, she was obviously delicate. Seungwon wasn’t even a fighter but he was sure he could break you in half.

Another knock made him roll his eyes as a woman he did recognize sauntered in and he gulped slightly. Namjoon’s wife carried herself with an air of unchecked power, and rightfully so as her husband’s eyes softened as he glided to her, “Junebug, welcome.” He purred as he placed a loving kiss on his wife’s lips, “Having a good day so far?” He asked, genuinely curious as the most powerful man in the country clung to her every word.

Namjoon’s wife was, in Seungwon’s opinion, a bitch. Seungwon was a golden boy, a rising man in the syndicate. He was gaining more responsibilities, and more money, at a quick rate. It was Namjoon’s wife who took one look at him for the first time and whispered in her loving husband’s ear. She never smiled at him or spoke to him. The bitch probably looked down on him, there was a theory that she was in an arranged marriage with the boss as a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Either way, the next thing he knew was an audit was done on all the finances and all of the money he had been stealing was discovered missing.

He grit his teeth as the woman spoke, adjusting her pencil skirt, “Wonderful day, actually.” She grinned, “The wedding plans are going wonderfully, makes me want to renew our vows using that planner.” She looked at Namjoon with nothing but love, “Wouldn’t that be nice, my love?”

He hummed, “Sounds lovely, my darling.” 

Jimin scoffed, “Don’t we have a meeting to get to?” The man rolled his eyes as the couples giggled at him, knowing he was just jealous.

“Right, right.” Jungkook sighed as he turned to his lover, “Your raincoat is in the bag.” The girl hummed as he handed her a suitcase, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She beamed at him, “Have fun at the meeting!” She chirped and he cooed at her before kissing her forehead.

“You know the drill. Be safe, be ruthless,” Namjoon murmured to his wife before they kissed each other, “Call me when you’re done.”

Her eyes flickered to Seungwon for a split second as a malevolent smirk found its way onto her face, “It’ll be quick I’m sure.” She stated simply, “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He spoke as the men left the room. 

Seungwon heard shuffling next to him and he turned to see Jungkook’s fiancee, who he only knew as (and was unable to call her) Honey, bending over as she shuffled a clear raincoat over her outfit.

“You’d be wise to watch where your eyes land.” Junebug, another name he was not allowed to call the woman, spoke with sharp eyes catching his, “Honey isn’t here for you to look at.” She sneered and before he could even open her mouth, she cut him off, “So, before we do our thing, would you like to tell us to what account our money is?” She raised a brow and he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you know I didn’t spend it?” He challenged and the woman simply laughed.

She looked him up and down like he was trash, making his skin flare with rage, “You’ve been wearing the same pair of sneakers since we met, have been using the same hair products, and your home and car have remained the same.” She deadpanned and he cursed himself internally, “If you spent it, you’d be dead.” She stated simply, “Now, last chance before things get ugly, where’s the money?” 

Seungwon heard the leader’s women were participating in business, but he didn’t expect interrogation to be something they handled. He gulped, not enjoying surprises or not knowing what exactly they can do. He knew how the leaders made people squeal, but the women? He had no idea. However, he remained silent, jaw clenched as he held his silence and her gaze in spite of the metal clinking next to him.

She raised a brow before clicking her tongue, “You’re gonna make me put on a raincoat?” He remained silent as she rolled her eyes, “Fine, Honey, you’re up.”

The cheerful woman hummed as she walked up to him, face behind a shield and hands with pink gloves on as she held a thin knife, “Okay, so you tell me where the money is, and I’ll stop, okay?” She held up the symbol in her gloved hand before giggling, “Wow, usually it’s just for inside info but now I’m like ‘where’s my money?!’ like a real mafia person!” She turned to Junebug with a childish grin that the woman returned, now donned in a raincoat and patting the woman’s head.

“So cute.” She cooed, “Now, be safe, be ruthless.” She spoke softly and Honey nodded.

“What are you gonna do? Take my finger off?” He scoffed and the way he made the woman giggle unnerved him.

Her eyes landed on him, much darker now as she scanned his form, stopping at his forehead, “Hey mister, you’re sweating quite a bit now. Are you nervous?” She asked and he remained silent, “Did you know stress can make pain worse?” She leaned forward, lips close to his ear and she sniffed lightly, “Uh oh~ we got a smoker!” She sang, stepping back and sinking to her knees, “Nicotine hinders blood flow to joints, making healing so slow.” She pouted and he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable with the way she glided a sharp knife along his legs, “Okay, here we go!”

The pain was blinding, but the cruelest part of it is that it was not fatal. He never saw where she stabbed him, he couldn’t bear to open his eyes as the pain radiated throughout his body, most concentrated in his left knee. He couldn’t breathe as he focused on not saying a word and heard a chuckle from one of the women, “Didn’t you hear her, old man? She said stress makes the pain worse.” A wicked cackle followed as he pressed his lips together.

“The beautiful thing about pain is that it’s all in your head.” Honey taunted, “The brain doesn’t feel pain, chemicals from it tell you that it hurts.” She explained with a wicked lilt to her voice, “I could be poking you, but if I have a big enough reaction-” She gasped loudly and pain shot through him like a bullet but there was no gunshot, “You’ll cry your little heart out.” She chortled, “Like a baby.” 

“You think I like wearing a raincoat waiting for pigs like you to squeal?”Junebug spoke, “I don’t want to be doing this to you, Seungwon, I really don’t.” Her voice was softer, almost pitying, “But you forced my hand, Honey’s hand.” She clicked her tongue like she was scolding a child, “We don’t like to hurt our family, so why do you like to hurt us?”

He panicked, the tenderness in her voice getting to him, offering solace from pain. This went on for what felt like hours. Each time Junebug would speak, Honey would cease her torture. They were training him, like a dog. They were getting him most comfortable with speaking with Junebug, just so he would salivate at the chance of talking with the woman. Junebug spoke honeyed words about how important he was, how vital he was to their group, making it seem like they were doing him a favor by torturing him. It had to have been a whole day by the time he gasped out the account he put the money.

He was delirious, and mercy was a greater reward than any cashout as the blood from the slit on his forehead seeped into his eyes, “Good choice.” Junebug praised as she wrote down the info, “What’s our time, Honey?”

The girl simply beamed, raincoat off, not a speck of blood on her pristine outfit, “Twenty minutes.” 

[annamaximoff24]

Double-Up

Nat x Reader: angst, mild smut, fluff

WC: 1.5k

Description: Set during Age of Ultron, the team goes to Clint’s house to lay low. There aren’t enough rooms for everyone so you and Natasha have to share. 

“We’re still a few hours away,” you heard Clint say as he piloted the Quinjet through the night.

You and the rest of the team had just faced Ultron and the two enhanced, who seemed to be working with him now. The boy, Pietro, was fast. The girl, Wanda, could manipulate minds. He was an inconvenience, but she was considered a serious threat to the Avengers. Working her magic, she was able to hypnotize the whole team, leaving you all a little shaken. 

You didn’t know what the others were forced to see, but you would never forget the visions she put in your head. With a wave of her hand she had thrown you back into your childhood. You were twelve, huddled in your room. Your younger sister was curled up next to you. She had been crying and you were trying to comfort her. Beyond your closed bedroom door you could hear your parents screaming at each other. This happened often but it was worse this time. They sounded like they were at the top of the stairs but suddenly your mom’s screaming stopped and you heard a gunshot, followed by the sound of her body falling down the stairs. 

You screamed, trying to cover your sister’s ears. The police showed up later that night after a concerned neighbor called. Your dad was arrested and sent to jail for the murder, and your sister was never the same after that. You always blamed yourself for that night. You felt like there was more you could have done to protect her and maybe even save your mom. 

“A few hours away from where?” Tony’s question snapped you back to the jet. You looked around. Bruce was rocking back and forth, a blanket wrapped around him. Natasha was sitting quietly, staring blankly ahead. 

“We’re going to a safe house,” Clint responded. Safe. That sounds good, you thought to yourself. With that slight comfort, you felt the weight of the fight fall on you and you slept for the rest of the ride. 

*****

The next morning you were woken up by Steve. The Quinjet had landed in a field, you didn’t know where, but there was a large house on the lot. You and the rest of the team brushed yourselves off and walked inside. 

You all met Clint’s very pregnant wife and two kids. He had never mentioned them to you before but the kids knew Nat, and they were ecstatic to see her standing in the doorway. 

“So we’re staying here for a few days?” Steve asked. 

Clint and his wife, Laura, nodded. “Unfortunately,” Laura said, “There aren’t enough bedrooms for everyone. Some of you will have to share.” Tony rolled his eyes at this before claiming the living room couch as his own. 

Thor couldn’t stay past nightfall, so Steve and Bruce decided to room together. That left you and Nat. 

“What do you say, Y/N?” Nat crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “Why don’t you and I have a little slumber party?” 

You and Nat had become good friends after working together for a year. Being the only two girls in the tower pushed you closer, but there was still a lot you didn’t know about each other. There was something intimidating about sharing a room with her, even just for a night or two. 

“Sounds fun,” was all you said, smiling back at her. 

You, along with the rest of the team, spent the day helping out around the house and keeping the kids entertained. Shortly after dinner, Natasha disappeared, going up to your shared room. 

Once you finished dessert the conversation had started to slow. Tony had made one too many comments about Cap’s “Language” incident, and everyone was getting tired. 

“I would see myself out, but it appears you’re all sitting in my bedroom.” Tony said. Steve got up and went to sit on the porch. Bruce decided he should go to sleep, and Clint and Laura went to tuck the kids in. 

“Goodnight guys,” you called out before making your way up the stairs. 

“Goodnight Y/N,” they all responded. 

You walked up to the bedroom, the second door on the right, Laura had said. You opened the door, surprised to see the room was empty, the beds still made. Where’s Nat? You thought. As if on cue, another door across the room clicked open. Nat walked out, a cloud of steam escaping with her. Her hair was wet and she was in nothing but a towel. 

“Oh, sorry.” You blushed at her before quickly turning to face the wall. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughed. “We’re both girls here.” 

You let out a quiet laugh to couple hers, still focusing on a painting that hung in front of you. 

“You can turn around now,” Natasha called. You turned slowly to find her in a pair of shorts, slipping a tank top over her head. 

“I should change too. Do you know where I could find some clothes?” You asked. “Ones that would fit me, at least,” you added, knowing you were substantially smaller than both Nat and Laura. 

“I have something.” Nat walked to the dresser by the door and pulled something out of the top drawer. “What do you think?” She held up a lacy black and red nightgown. “I left it here the last time I visited.” 

“Yeah, I’m definitely not wearing that.” 

“Why not?” Nat pouted. “It would look so good on you.” She gave you a playful smirk. Was she…flirting with you? 

“Because,” you started, swallowing nervously, “I’m sure it looks amazing on your curves, but I have the body of a twelve-year-old boy. I would drown in that thing.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nat started to close the space between you, driving you up against the wall. 

“Natasha,” her face was inches from your own, “what are you doing?” 

“Are we not allowed to have a little fun? You’ve been so tense lately.” Her gaze traveled down your body and you felt shivers run down your spine. “I think you need to loosen up a bit.” Natasha ran her hands up your arms, stopping to rub your shoulders. You let them fall, relaxing your muscles for the first time in days. 

She smiled at you as you let out a relieved sigh. What the hell, she’s right. One night of fun couldn’t hurt. “Just so we’re on the same page…” you looked up at her and, with a sudden burst of courage, cupped the side of her face with your palm and kissed her lightly. “You mean this, right?” You said, pulling away. 

“That was bold,” she noted, a smile working its way across her face. 

“I hope that’s not a problem, Agent Romanoff.” Deciding to roll with it fully, you threw extra sweetness in the last few words. 

“Not at all.” She reconnected her lips to yours. They were soft and warm, and her hands traveled down your back, pulling you closer to her. You yelped as she picked you up, not breaking the kiss. She walked back towards the bed, and you wrapped your legs around her waist to stabilize yourself. 

Nat placed you on the bed gently, trailing kisses down your jaw. She pulled the collar of your shirt down and worked her way lower. Your head was thrown back into the pillows, and your eyes were closed. You just wanted to enjoy this for a while. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Nat stopped, rolling next to you as you sat up on the bed. “Who is it?” She called. 

“Laura,” the voice on the other side rang out. 

“Come in.” You said, running a hand through your hair to erase any evidence of Nat’s hands in it. 

Laura appeared in the doorway, an extra set of clothes in her arms. “Hi, I just wanted to bring Y/N something to sleep in.” She offered them to you. 

“Oh,” Natasha flashed you a teasing look, you glared at her, trying not to blush. “Thanks.” You took them from Laura and placed them on the bed next to you. 

“Let me know if you need anything else.” You and Nat both nodded. “Until then, I’ll leave you two alone.” She walked back, you and Nat giggling quietly to yourselves. “And girls,” Laura paused at the door, “Don’t make too much noise. The walls are thin, and Lila likes to wander around late at night.” 

“We won’t, Laur.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Goodnight.”

Once Laura closed the door behind her, Nat turned back to you. “So?” She raised an eyebrow. You hit her arm gently. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You are a tease, Natasha Romanoff.” She feigned offense at this, knowing you were right. “Now, I’m going to change and go to sleep. 

“But-” Nat protested as you got up. 

“Thin walls!” You called back as you walked to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It felt good to have a little control over her.  

[avengerscompound]

Running to a Standstill - 3

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2219

Rating:  E

Square filled: none

Warnings: canon typical violence

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers.  While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 3

You were starting to feel antsy.  You’d been living in your small apartment in Bedstuy for much longer than you had stayed anywhere since you’d gone on the run.  You were growing actual roots and it was starting to make your skin itch.

Being in a building owned by an Avenger had lulled you into some sort of sense of security.  Clint was low key enough not to draw too much attention to the building while also adding the protection because of the fact he was an Avenger.  You’d let that make you think you were safe.  You’d made friends.  There were kids that Geo played with.  You had semi-regular jobs so you could actually buy furniture and other things that couldn’t just be shoved into your bag when you had to run.  You’d started to think of it as your home.

That alone had been enough to make you antsy.  You’d find yourself relaxing and forgetting that there were people trying to take your son from you and then it would suddenly hit you and you’d start double-checking there was no one there watching you.

Then Captain America got involved.

You worried that him just being around would attract looks from the wrong people.  The fact that Steve was actively searching for the people looking for you made you worry that it would draw their attention and they’d find you like that worried you too.

It put you on edge and you felt torn.  In the past, as soon as you felt like this you’d pack up and run.  You didn’t ignore your gut feelings like that.  The couple of times you had, you’d ended up nearly getting caught.  You had a home now though and you were reluctant to leave it.

The other problem was, the longer you waited to run, the more reasons you found to stay and two of those big burly reasons were currently at your apartment trying to balance talking to you and playing with Geo at the same time while you were in the middle of an anxiety cleaning session.

Over the last month, they’d been around a lot.  After your first date with Steve, he’d called and asked you out a few more times in much more casual settings.  He always spoke to you about your ‘situation’ as he liked to call it, but it wasn’t just that.  He told you about his friends.  He asked you about yours.  You each spoke about your childhoods.  They felt like a mix between genuine dates and being questioned as a witness to a crime.

Bucky had come by a few times on the pretense of coming to see Clint or Natasha and wanting to check to see if you were okay.  He brought you and Geo lunch another time saying he was in the area and he thought he’d check in on you.  And another time he brought a little Stark Pad as a gift for Geo saying Stark had asked him to drop it off.  He always spent a little time talking with you and you wondered if Steve had actually asked him to check that you hadn’t run and that there was no one watching you.

Whatever the case, they both became comfortable with just visiting after not too long, and you quite liked when they did.  They were kind and funny and they understood what you were going through in a way most people didn’t.  Geo liked them too and with all the running you’d been doing, he didn’t warm up to people easily.  Even Clint and Natasha had made friends with him through Lucky initially.

You really liked them.  Really, really.  You could see that becoming more than just the slight crush you were harboring for each man if you let it - and god did you want to let it.  Yet that desire made you feel anything but good.  You had a tight knot of anxiety in your chest and you were jumping at every shadow, yet anytime you considered actually running, it made you feel sick.

“... and then he just turned into 100 birds and flew off,” Bucky said.

You’d been staring out the window and you slowly looked back at him as the words sunk in.  “Huh?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Bucky said.  “I was asking if you wanted to order in.”

“Oh… uh… I probably should cook,” you said, looking back out the window.

“We can pay,” Bucky said, but your attention was back on the man who’d been standing in the entrance to the alley slightly down the street again.

Steve put down the Lego bricks he’d been adding to the structure he, Bucky, and Geo had been assembling and he got up.  He came over to you and looked out the window, putting his hand on your hip to pull your attention back to him.  It was quite an intimate gesture for Steve.  Despite the fact you’d been sort of dating for a month now, neither of you had made any kind of move to make it at all physical.  You hadn’t wanted to make a move because it was just one more push towards having a life here that you were unwilling to leave.  Why Steve had kept his distance you weren’t sure.  Part of you thought he was taking his lead off you, but there was also his confession about how he’d been carrying a torch for Bucky his whole life and maybe it was just that you still hadn’t cleared the Bucky level of minimum attraction he had admitted to.  “What’s wrong?”  He asked.

“I don’t know,” you said.  “There’s been a van parked across the road all day.  Not the same van, but always a van.  And now that guy has just been standing in that alley for an hour.”

Bucky tensed and stood.  “I’ll go check it out.”

Steve held out his hand for a second as he assessed the street.  You don't know what he was looking at but he gave a small nod.  Bucky stalked out the door with his jaw set and Steve looked back at you.

“How about you go get some things together.  We’ll have a sleepover at the tower,” he said.  His voice was far calmer and upbeat than the implications that the suggestion held.

You nodded and as you hurried off, there was a squealing of wheels from outside, followed by a gunshot.  Your heart started hammering and you spun back around and nearly slammed back into Steve.  He was holding Geo who had his Stark Pad clutched in his chubby little hands. “Okay,” Steve said in that same cheery, calm voice.  “We're not going to pack.  I assume you have a ‘go bag’?”

You didn't even answer, you just went to your closet and pulled it out from under a pile of blankets.  It was a duffle bag and contained spare clothes, all your ID both real and fake, and rolled up wads of cash.

As you went out, Steve put his arm around you and began to escort you outside. “Just nice and calm. We’re going to take Nat’s car.”

“You have the keys?” You asked.

“Don't need them,” he answered, as you both entered the street.

It was empty now, and as you went around the side of the building you saw Clint sitting on the fire escape shirtless but with his bow out.  “Bucky took after the van, Nat went for the guy,” he yelled down and dropped some keys as Steve passed under him.

Steve caught them easily and looked up at Clint.  “Thanks,” he called up.

Natasha’s Chevrolet Stingray sat a little further up the ally and Steve pressed the button on the keys to unlock it.

“I thought you were going to break into it,” you said with a nervous laugh.

Steve chuckled as he opened the door for you.  “I was going to.”

You looked around wildly.  “I don’t have a seat for Geo.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, putting Geo in your hands.  “Just hold him on your lap.  I’ll drive carefully.  If a cop stops us, I’ll get them to escort us.”

You got into the car shaking and put the seatbelt on, holding Geo tightly.  Steve started the car and started it.  “Hey little guy,” Steve said, softly.  “You think you can get the traffic lights to be green for us all the way?”

“Umm…” Geo hummed and the tablet in his hand began to flicker.  You recognized what was happening.  Your son was talking to the network that ran the traffic lights through the network connected to the tablet.  The light on the street ahead turned green and as you passed through it, the one at the next intersection turned green too.  All the way over the bridge and into the underground garage at the Avengers towers the lights changed to green before the car reached them.  You got out of the car with Geo and Steve went and grabbed your bag.  Geo looked up, his eyes wide and his mouth opened.

“Mommy,” he whispered.  “She’s everywhere.”

“Who is?”  You asked as you tried to see what he was seeing in this dark, underground parking lot.

Geo raised his hands in the air as you carried him to the elevator with Steve.  “Is Fwiday,” he said.

“No, sweety.  It’s Wednesday,” you answered as the elevator door opened and you and Steve got in.

Steve chuckled.  “FRIDAY can you introduce yourself?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” a disembodied female voice replied.  She had an Irish accent which surprised you almost as much as a random woman’s voice coming out of nowhere.  “Good evening, ma’am.  I’m FRIDAY, I’m the Artificial Intelligence system that runs both the tower and Mister Stark’s Suits.”

“Fwiday!”  Geo said excitedly, bouncing in your arms.

“Hello Geo,” FRIDAY replied.  “I’m so happy you are visiting.”

“You is nice, Fwiday,” Geo said and the elevator doors opened.

“Thank you, Geo.  You are very nice too,” the AI replied.

“Oh man,” you said, putting Geo down.  “I don’t think he’s ever been near an AI before.”

“I told you he’d like it here,” Steve said, putting his hand on your shoulder.  “Get comfortable.  We’ll have a sleepover.  You’re going to be safe here.”

He put your bag down and went into the kitchen.  “How about we order a bunch of comfort food to be delivered.  Pizza, mac and cheese, fried chicken.  I’ll make some popcorn.”

You looked around nervously.  “You sure we’ll be safe?”

“I promise,” Steve said smiling.  “Now, the two dark blue couches fold out.  But you just need to press a button on the side of them.  And there are blankets in a hidden cupboard on the wall.”

You looked around and Geo pointed at the door as the couches opened up on their own, you assumed because he’d asked them to.

You set up and made a food order together.  You calmed down for a little while as you all sat eating popcorn together.  Steve put his arm around you and you settled in against him feeling the closest to actual boyfriend and girlfriend you had yet.  When the security guy brought the food back you panicked again.

“Where do you think Bucky is?”  You asked.

“It’s fine,” Steve reassured you.  “If there was a problem, FRIDAY would have told me.”

“You’re sure?”  You asked.

“Yes, ma’am.  Sergeant Barnes is currently on the way back to the Tower,” FRIDAY said.

You relaxed again.  “Okay.  Okay.”

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes later looking a little beaten up.  “Man, they took me on a chase.”

“Did you catch them?”  You asked as he hopped up on the fold-out bed beside you and grabbed himself a slice of pizza.

“Yeah, don’t worry.  They’re being held,” Bucky said.

“By who?”  You asked.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said, rubbing your back.  “The good guys.”

You let out a breath and leaned your head against his shoulder.  “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he said rubbing your back. “You’re with us now.”

It took a little while for you to relax again.  Geo babbled happily to FRIDAY while Bucky ate and you all half-watched a movie.  By the time he was asleep on the fold-out couch, you felt relaxed.  Actually relaxed too.  Not in the way you usually were where you kept checking out the window or squirreling away money in your go-bag for when you weren’t anymore.  Not safe for now.  Actually safe.

You drifted off to sleep between them quickly once that feeling of contentment hit you.  Plates and containers of food were scattered around you.  You woke again as Bucky started climbing off the couch.  It was dark in the room except for the lights from things like the microwave and the power button on the tv.  Steve was sleeping beside you, his arm draped over your waist.

“Where are you going?”  You whispered.

He looked back at you and ran his hand down your arm.  “To bed.”

“Stay…” You said, looking up at him.

“You sure?”  He asked.  “It’s pretty squashy on that bed.”

You nodded and grabbed his hand.  “Please?”

He climbed back into the bed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling himself up close.  It was warm and quiet between the two super soldiers and it wasn’t long before you were asleep.

// NEXT

[notgonnarememberthis]

today (of all days) +1

Y’all should know that this is the very first thing I wrote for this fic. That’s it

Gil steps out of his car taking in the breath of fresh air that hits him, wrapping him in the autumn chill as he walks up Jessica’s driveway. She didn’t know he was coming but they’d talked about this for a while. Clearing the air, getting back to them. Getting back to what feels right. Truthfully, it’s never felt more right than when he’s by her side. Not since Jackie, at least.

The thought scares and excites him at the same time. He should feel overwhelmed, he hasn’t had something he could lose in so long. This doesn’t feel like that though. It feels like coming home.

He smiles thinking about all the times she’d shown up at his door, the same bottle clutched in her fingertips. He set out special glasses just for the two of them long ago. For twenty years they collected dust but now, finally, they rest between his fingers ready for use again.

He has to steady himself as he spies her through the grand window. Light pours around her reflecting off her hair like a bronze halo. The suit jacket she’s wearing is still buttoned at the waist, he figures she just got home recently as she’s pouring herself a drink after a long day. He stops, though, as she pours a second glass.

Regret washes over him, wishing he’d talked to her first. Wishing for the alone time that it had taken him half an hour to psyche himself up to drive over here for. Except she’s not alone. He shouldn’t have come. He is about to back up when she looks up, feeling eyes on her from outside.

Her expression freezes him in his place. Her lips part slightly in a gasp, her breathing picks up as her jaw tightens. It’s her eyes, however, that set apart everything. The way she looks at him with so much hope that he feels like he’s about to burst. The warmth that spreads through his chest makes it all worth it when he reads his name on her lips. A smile breaking across the professional appearance. He doesn’t quite know how long they spent standing there, simply looking at each other, but he knows he could do it for an eternity if she would let him.

It’s Jessica who breaks the gaze first. She turns with all the grace of a woman who’s been photographed her entire life. Every single thing she does so poised that the mere action of turning is mesmerizing. The person she’s with must have entered the room because he watches her lips move, likely an apology for the wait.

Two sharp blasts echo from the home and all he can do is watch in horror as Jessica stumbles back, a look of shock and pain flashing across her face before she falls. The glasses slip from his hands shattering across the concrete in his rush to get to the door. He can’t hear anything but the sound of his heart pounding in his ears as he tries to push open the front door.

The handle twists but it doesn’t budge when he throws his shoulder back against it. Briefly he recognizes a scream, one filled with terror and pain. It takes too long to recognize that it’s his own. He rears back, drawing his gun from his belt as he kicks open the door. “Jessica!” He hears the back door slam shut, cursing as the person who attacked her is retreating. He follows the familiar path to the dining room, his heart in his throat as he rounds the last corner.

Jessica is on the floor by the window, gasping for any air she can. Her fingers cling to the ever growing crimson stain on her abdomen. She sees him, her eyes bugging out as she tries to wheeze his name.

He’s over to her in no more than three steps, sliding across the linoleum to her side. He can already see where tears began to stream down her cheeks. For a horrific moment all thoughts vanish. Pure panic takes over as he pulls her as gently as he can. “Jess, it’s ok. I’m here.”

“Gil.” She whines, her eyes scrunching shut with the pain. It forces him into action as he shucks off the jacket he was wearing pressing it to the wound.

“I’m here. Just hang on. You’ll be ok.” He pushes her hair aside before pulling out his phone.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“This is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo with major crimes. I have a victim with two gunshot wounds to the abdomen and the suspect has fled. I need an ambulance to 505 Cherry Street.”

“They are on their way lieutenant.” He doesn’t hang up but he shifts his focus back to Jessica when he sees her eyes flutter.

“Jess? Jess, sweetheart I need you to stay awake for me.” A groan leaves her lips but she obeys, her eyes moving to focus on him. “I know, just keep listening to me, ok? I got you.”

“Malcolm,” She wheezes.

“At the precinct. I came alone. I’ll call him and Ainsley both when we get to the hospital.” She shakes her head, he knows he missed something but her distress is only making her panic more. He runs a free hand through her hair trying his best to calm her. His mind spins with a million questions. Who did this? Why? His eyes travel down to the wound, almost the same place where he’d been stabbed almost a year ago now. A voice whispers in his ear the most painful way to die. The shiver that goes down his spine is so violent that it shakes her with his movement. He watches the tears slide down her face as she tries so hard to hold all of her fear together. “Just hold on Jess. They’re coming. Wait for me, ok?”

“I’m trying.” Her voice is barely a whisper but it trembles with all of her pain. Physical, emotional, all of the weight that the world holds on her tips delicately in the room. The careful control she’d established for decades ready to topple. 

“Just a little longer. I’ve got you. Wait for me.” It becomes a mantra until it’s too much. His own shoulders shake under the pressure. Sobs pull from his chest and he wonders how she did it. How she pulled him out, racing him to the hospital, her hand never letting go of his the entire time.

“It’ll be ok.” She repeats with a smile. God, even now she’s trying to be strong for others. The anger that comes with her words is quickly washed away by the sound of sirens. “I don’t want to be alone.” His heart sinks, knowing all too well how she shut herself off from everyone. Ainsley was too distracted, Malcolm was too distressed. All he could do for so long was watch with bated breath because she held him at arm's length. Now, so close that he can feel her unraveling in his arms. Knowing that this could break her. After all these years.

“You’re not alone. I’ve got you. I’m right here. I won’t let you go.” 

“Gil?” He watches her lip tremble and she sounds so tired. God, he knows she’s so tired.

“Just a little longer Jess,” He watches her eyes, how they drop ready to give in to her exhaustion. “I need you.” Her eyes snap open, looking at him with that same hope again. This time breaking his heart with the look.

The paramedics barge in and he moves aside allowing them to work. All the time he stays where she can see him. He wishes he could hold her but for now he stays. When they load her into the ambulance he’s running with them. He shouldn’t get in, he needs to secure the scene. None of it matters when her eyes are on him though, so full of fear that he knows she needs him.

He climbs in, his hand finding hers and holding on with everything he has.

[ladynyctophilia]

Avoiding Red

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Mature Themes

Pairings: Vivienne Tang x MC (Rozario)

With the heist gone wrong, it all felt like a dream. I fell off of the helicopter with guns pointed at me in every direction, but somehow I was still shoved into an ambulance and rushed to a hospital for surgery.

At this point, I didn't know the difference between fantasy and reality. There was even this one night where I thought Vivienne was at the hospital with me, kissing my hand, but I knew that wasn't true. The Poppy should be laying low by now, probably in another country after all that heat we attracted in Paris. Again. 

I've been left with nothing but questions. Did I really join The Gilded Poppy? Was Vivienne Tang real? Or was I just waking up from a coma? However, whenever I moved, the gunshot wound on my lower abdomen, and the breaks in my ribs told me otherwise. My heart ached.

This is real. 

And every night I had to relive those same events in my dreams, but in my dreams I died on that rooftop. 

However, my thoughts were interrupted by the clicking of my room door opening. The nurse was probably back with this morning's pain medication. 

More pills to shove down my throat. Yay. 

But to my surprise, it wasn't the nurse, and I could feel my heart quickening as a short man dressed in a well-tailored suit that complemented his sun-kissed features entered the room. I tensed, ignoring the pain from my wound. This man wasn't a doctor or a nurse, and he didn't look lost either. That could only mean one thing. He stared at me, and I stared at him, but none of us gestured to speak. The man's hair was black as a starless night, even darker than Vivienne's, but his eyes were full of warmth. The green of his eyes reminded me of the emerald eyes of Vivienne's serpent ring, but unlike the color of envy, his gaze felt safe, and not like the cunning nature of the thieves and criminals I was acquainted with. I sighed. 

Vivienne...

However, a glint of light brought my attention to his chest, where a badge rested, flashing with justice. I didn't think about the police or anything like that when I was here. When I could think straight…

Ha. Straight. 

Shut up, Rozario.

...all I thought about was Vivienne and the look on her face when I let go. Did she really poison me? My heart wanted to deny any suspicion of betrayal in Vivienne, but my head knew better. Vivienne did have a past of lying and running away. She was a criminal after all, and I've been burned before. 

" Rozario Inmaculada Cruz," the man finally announced, waiting for my reaction. 

I winced at my full name that was weighed down by tradition and religion and stained by the memory of my father's stern voice, but other than that, he was getting no reaction out of me, and my eyes quickly narrowed. 

Excellent detective skills, Jimbo, you know my name. 

I didn't reply. To my surprise, his voice wasn't French; it was American, with a hint of something familiar. Very familiar. Spanish, but not from Spain. He was familiar to me, like a ghost. 

Sus. I was growing suspicious, but that didn't help the squeeze of anxiety in my guts. Technically, I was in France legally; I just wasn't doing legal things...my situation suddenly dawned on me. I was going back to America in chains and would probably be locked up for the rest of my life. I was terrified. Before it could begin, my life was over. I will never-

"Rozario," the man's deep voice called to me again," you don't have to talk," he hummed, with a hand scratching the stubble underneath his chin thoughtfully. A habit whenever he was thinking most likely. "Just pay attention, I don't have a lot of time here, and neither do you." I'm assuming that the detective was a very patient and reserved man, but my eyes lingered on his antique, probably handcrafted watch. 

Damn. I really have spent too much time around thieves. 

The detective noticed and cleared his throat, pulling down his sleeve." Rozario, I'm going to be blunt with you, you're fucked," he said with a shrug, taking off his glasses as if to see me better. "No matter what you do or say, you will end up in the slammer, but," he held up a finger, checking to see if I was still paying attention. "The number of years can be significantly reduced if you cooperate and help the French government and I catch these so-called members of The Gilded Poppy," the detective got right to the point with a casualness that I didn't associate cops with. It was like he didn't care, whatever my answer was, but there was a gleam in his pale eyes that told otherwise. 

He had a lousy poker face. Remy taught me the signs. I wanted to be stern, I wanted to be hard and cold, with no emotion, but there was a ball growing in my throat that I couldn't swallow. I was scared, but I couldn't give The Gilded Poppy away, could I? No. I quickly shook my head away from that thought as my eyes glistened with tears. 

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...COME ON, ROZARIO!! 

I mentally slapped myself. 

Cry like a little bitch later, you can't cry in front of this man, or you will die a hundred deaths of shame. 

With that much needed mental pep talk, I lifted my chin up and locked eyes with the detective...cop whatever he was, and opened my mouth. 

"No, I will not help you, or anyone hunt down The Gilded Poppy," I declared firmly, trying to sound as emotionless as I could, but I came out more stubborn than I wanted. Both a blessing and a curse, hiding my emotions was never my strong suit. "So…" I looked away, trying to deflect whatever feelings from giving me away, "you are wasting your time, whoever you are." 

"Whoever I am?" The man raised a brow, pulling up a chair next to my bed to sit as if he was here to tell me my Abuela died. "Yes, I'm a private investigator that deals in foreign affairs, but I took your case because I know you, Rozario, from high school." 

WHAT???!!!! 

My panic was apparent, and whatever pathetic excuse of a mask I had on my face crumbled away, never to be rebuilt again. You would have thought I looked shocked. No, I was just sad, and it showed. I still wasn't quite sure who he was, but I believed him. Shit. 

"Now," the investigator spoke after waiting for a reply he never got. "It's been seven or eight years, but yes, we attended the same school in Florida, but I was a year below you. Thomas Parker," he hesitated, but continued, dropping his investigator persona for a slight second, glancing around the room as if someone was there. Still, no one was, and he whispered, bashfully while avoiding my gaze, "we were in the dance club together...." 

Tommy. Dance club. For a naive moment, all my worries had washed away, and my heart raced with excitement. It was like I had never left America and could recite the "old days" with Thomas and complain how terrible Mr. Jenkins was, but no, that wasn't the situation. He was an investigator, and I was now a thief...an art thief. The same coin, but different sides. "Tommy...Thomas," I finally said, savoring the taste of that familiar name, a name I knew as real and not fake. "Yes," I nodded, still avoiding his gaze shamefully. "I remember," outside of the dance club, I didn't know him well, but I knew that his mother was from Cuba like my parents were. However, he had grown into a completely different person. Puberty had really hit him like a truck because the Tommy I knew was shorter, hairless, and had the cutest chubby smile and carried around a deck of Magic The Gathering cards. He was adorable, but the Tommy that sat beside me wasn't that person anymore, now he was Thomas Parker, here to take me away for my crimes. 

His sigh brought my attention back to him, "what happened, Rozario? After high school?" For a second, he looked betrayed, and I was taken aback, still too stunned to conjure up any answers or explanations, "did you not have money?" He asked, but didn't wait for me to answer. "For a while, I assumed you were kidnapped and forced to do these crimes, but you definitely robbed that jewelry store on purpose. So, what happened?" He leaned back, now crossing his arms like a child would if they were pouting, but he just seemed...angry...and hurt. Why? He was only ever an acquaintance. "What happened to the girl who was constantly doodling in her sketchbook, with dreamy eyes and a contagious smile?"

"I...I…" I opened my mouth, ready with excuses, but the ball in my throat had grown too large for any words to be processed, and if it weren't for the wetness on my cheeks, I wouldn't have known I was crying. "A-adventure…" I finally whispered, not knowing if he heard.

Thomas's eye twitched at my answer, but seeing my upset state, he slipped back into his role as a private investigator and not Tommy from the high school dance club. "Your parents don't know, but they will," he said, pulling out a notepad and pencil from his pocket, "and you are looking at a thirty-year sentence, at least, when you return back to The States, but," he paused, clenching his jaw. "With good behavior, that sentence can be lowered to as short as a decade if you cooperate and help me put the rest of The Gilded Poppy behind bars. I know that the real Rozario would have never committed those crimes. Can't you see that they've tricked you?"

Thomas and I both knew that wasn't true, all those choices I made back then were mine alone, but it seemed as if he was trying to convince himself otherwise. I opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger up to hush me. 

"Don't say anything," he asked, voice going soft, "I've seen cases like this many times before. A naive girl gets charmed by a few criminals, and then the said criminals offer to show the girl the world and offer them wealth, a life of excitement and freedom. The naive girl accepts, she does a few crimes and has fun, but when something goes wrong, the criminals escape as the naive girl gets arrested and framed for their crimes."

"They wouldn't do that to me," I blurted out, much louder than I had meant as my heart quickened on the verge of another panic attack.

Thomas shrugged, gesturing to the hospital room, "then why are you still here? You've been chained to that hospital bed for a week, and rumor has it that you were poisoned," he raised a brow, "and the last time I checked, french security guards don't poison burglars."

"No," I shook my head, still denying the possibility, but the deeper Thomas's words sunk into me, the more insecure I felt about the trust I had in The Poppy, and he was right. It didn't help that I had been betrayed and abandoned by Vivienne the first time I was in Paris...but that was before they really knew me. I was on a trial heist then, but honestly? I would have thought Vivienne would have gotten me out of the hospital by now….or at least given me a sign that The Poppy was here. Maybe they weren't coming back, and my heart sunk further, like a dying whale, panging with something I could only describe as regret. 

"Look," Thomas stood up, "whatever our past was, I'm here as an investigator, but I don't want to see you wilt away in prison when I know you don't belong there. We all make mistakes," he set down his notepad and pencil on my lap, "here, I know drawing puts your mind at ease." He gave me a small, sad smile before heading towards the door, "think about it, Rozario, you have twenty-four hours," and with those words said, Thomas left me alone with nothing but my thoughts and his notepad. 

I blinked, my eyes crusty and sore from crying. I didn't know what I was going to do. The thought of having to live a life in prison terrified me. I didn't want to betray The Poppy, but was it worth a life in prison? Maybe I could find a way to cooperate without The Poppy getting caught. 

Honor among thieves.

I snorted at that quote, beginning to sketch without even thinking. All I knew was that I was hurt, alone, scared, and depressed. I needed the embrace of a loved one more than ever.

Where had my life gone wrong? 

A few of my tears dampened the paper, and when I got a closer look, I could tell I was just drawing a woman with Vivienne's likeness. Vivienne. I wanted to burn hotter than coal with anger, but instead, my soul wept as I clutched the drawing to my chest. Despite it all, I missed her. 

There was a knock on my door, and I couldn't even compose myself properly before the nurse let herself in with a tray of today's breakfast. French hospitals put America's cafeteria food to shame, like always. Besides some language barriers, the hospital staff had been very kind, I owed them my life, but I was a mess right now and couldn't survive any more human interaction today. This experience had really brought out the introvert in me that I didn't even know was there, so I stayed silent, with my eyes on the notepad and flipped it to the next page, but instead of finding another blank page, there were words. 

You are a thief now, aren't you? Escape the hospital and head to the hardware store down the road. You have 24 hours.

I read over the words at least twenty times before they registered. Escape. I had to escape. Was Thomas helping me escape? Or was The Poppy here to rescue me? It seemed like an almost impossible task, but it gave me hope, and I looked over to my left hand, chained to the hospital bed. Thanks to Nikolai, I could pick that, quite easily, in fact with my other hand free. Child's play. My heart fluttered with anxiety, and I looked at the nurse, but she wasn't in the room. Huh. I didn't even hear her leave. Suddenly, a long, slender hand cupped the side of my face and turned my gaze to the body it was attached to, the nurse, Vivienne. When our eyes connected, the stars aligned, making my heart flutter and eyes glisten with equal amounts of disbelief and admiration. "You're another hallucination…" I whispered, sunken eyes dreamy as her thumb dragged slowly down my lips. 

"No," Vivienne shushed me with her lips, soft and flushed against mine, but she broke the kiss with a hiss before we could get lost, pressing her forehead against mine in promise. "A hallucination wouldn't burn the world for you." 

To be continued…