#THEY JUST THROW HIM IN JAIL. WHEN THEY NEVER TOOK RESPONSIBILITY FOR WHEN THEY DROPPED A WHOLE CELESTIAL ON TOP OF TALOKAN

[naemors]

I AM GOING TO EAT JASON AARON ALIVE, I WILL FEAST ON HIS BONES AND BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH HIS OWN FUCKIN LEG-

[sxtaep]

OFF THE TABLE - KTH | eight (m)

↬ synopsis: a horrific case from 1993 has resurfaced 29 years later, leaving kim taehyung & mei yuna to argue in favour of the public to keep the defendant in jail. the only problem? the pair despise each other.

pairing — taehyung x female oc

genre — fluff, smut

word count — 6.8k

chapter warnings/tags — softdom!tae, sub!oc, domesticity, teasing, spitting in public (someone spit in my mouth already), explicit smut, mentions of female masturbation, pillow riding, swearing, name-calling, degradation, sexual tension, making out, dirty talk, thigh riding, more spitting (sorrynotsorry) oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, face sitting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, guys), penetrative sex, rough fucking, creampie, cockwarming + more

a/n: hey… how you doin… 👁👁 i literally died and came back to life to update ott bc it’s been SO LONG!!! it’s mostly smut, pure filth, so get ready 🫶

++ also!! if you’d like to be added to the taglist, send me an ask!

It wasn’t often Yuna took days off work, simply never having the time to do so due to the workload, so it was quite odd being back in her office. The room was left untouched, exactly the way it was before she left. She trudged to her chair, sitting down with a heavy sigh and turning on her laptop, making a start on her work; responding to emails, sending emails out and signing paperwork.

It was nothing new, she was merely playing the catch-up game for hours. without a break and soon enough, she got tired.

Yuna dropped her pen and shut her laptop, running a hand through her hair with a heavy sigh. She stood up from her seat and left her office, briskly making her way to Taehyung’s office, and actually remembering to knock before peaking her head through the door.

The man looked up when he heard her knock on the door. He immediately smiled, as he quickly closed the laptop, completely ignoring the email he was writing. "Hi, darling."

“Hi..” Yuna says quietly with a childish smile on her face and a faint blush on her cheeks. She approaches his desk and takes a seat in the chair opposite him. “How’s all the work coming along?”

"Ah, I’m nearly finished,” Taehyung smiled at her, putting his laptop to the side, as he rest his forearms on the desk. He tilted his head to the side, noticing the exhaustion on her face. "Did you need something?"

“No not really, I’m just tired? Not sleepy tired, just tired. And I’m bored of being here,” she mumbles, leaning back against the chair and crossing her arms. “I feel like I probably messed up a bunch of paperwork.”

Taehyung raised a brow at her. He actually felt bad for her, only taking one day off to recover, even though he insisted she take at least 3 days off to fully recover but she refused.

"Bring your work here and I’ll fix it for you so you can leave early."

Yuna appreciated the offer, but she didn’t need her boyfriend doing all the work for her “Absolutely not. That work needs to be done by my hand and my hand only,” she groans, throwing her head back against the seat. “And I wanna leave with you, not on my own..”

Taehyung would laugh softly, seeing her flushed cheeks.

She was so cute.

Taehyung opens his laptop again, reading over the email he’d abandoned, "Ah, well, I was planning on finishing work early and then going to the gym. It’s been a while since I last went. Maybe we can spend some time together after I am back from the gym?"

Oh, what a sight it would be to watch Taehyung handle gym equipment.. she was almost daydreaming the image in her head and much to her disappointment, he cleared his throat, waiting for a response, or something, rather than sit there in silence and watch the growing smirk on her face become more and more frightening.

“That’s fine! Just give me a call when you’re ready to leave!” Yuna smiles, her words sounding liking gibberish with how fast she was talking and rushing towards the door.

Taehyung’s eyes shifted from the laptop to her and then back to his screen, doing a complete double take at the way her hips swayed in the black pencil skirt that hugged her hips perfectly. He tried his best not to check her out, but it was impossible with the harsh sounds of her sleek black heels thrumming against the tiled floor of his office.

"Mhm, I love those heels on you, Yuna,” he calls out to her, watching her body approach the door.

Yuna halted, looking down at her feet to suppress the blush growing on her cheeks. She turned to look back at him over her shoulder, throwing a wink at him and kicking her heels up behind her knees. “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll wear them more often for you,” she teases, blowing him a kiss and swiftly walking out of the office to leave him with his work.

“Oh, you don’t wanna drive? What if I decide to suddenly crash you car today?” She unlocks the door and gets into the drivers seat, leaving him outside. Having driven to work this morning, Taehyung had no intention of taking the wheel. Yuna looked extremely hot driving. Hotter than himself, even.

Taehyung frowned, jumping in the passenger seat and closing the door. "That would mean you really want to break up."

“Never mind, I’ll take extra care of your car then,” she mumbles, caressing the wheel gently before starting up the car and beginning to drive. “Home first or should I drop you off straight to the gym?”

"Gym first, please. I hope you don’t mind picking me up after?" He reached his hand down to pat her thigh, then softly skimming his fingers over the fabric of her skirt. Taehyung doesn’t miss the way her thigh tenses under his touch as she tries to keep her focus on the road.

“Uh.. sure, just let me know what time to pick you up and I’ll be there.” Yuna licks over her bottom lip and checks the time on her phone.

Taehyung grinned at her, leaning over to leave a chaste kiss on her neck and squeezing her thigh a little. "Of course. Thank you, baby. You’re such a good girl for me."

Yuna snaps her head towards him with a very ‘are you serious?’ look. There was no way he was doing all this and expecting her to be completely unfazed. “Only for you,” she mutters quietly, her voice barely there as she pulled up opposite the gym.

He noticed she stopped the car, yet he didn't pull away. He kept leaving a trail of small kisses along the expanse of her neck, his hand slipping under her skirt to make home between her thighs. Yuna felt incredibly warm, but that didn’t stop Taehyung from skimming his fingertips over the dampening material of her panties.

"You don’t know how much I want to do you right here, right now."

“Why…?” Yuna sat there with her head tilted to the side, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping at the wheel. “The gym is a much more important than this..” she breathes out, trying to push her needs away as far as possible. It wasn’t exactly appropriate to get touchy in the car with people walking past.

Taehyung would only hum, "Yeah, I guess you’re right, but.." He pulled away from her neck and nuzzled his nose against her cheek. "Think you can open your mouth for me? Just for a second. Please?"

It was a bit of an odd request, but she couldn’t turn him down. Yuna turned to face him, inches away from him as she opened her mouth like he had asked, gazing at him with anticipation.

He flashed a huge grin.

"Good girl."

He then settled her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her mouth to fall open so he could, generously, spit into her mouth.

Why? He was too horny for his own good. The image of her strutting in those 5 inch heels (it didn’t seem like a lot, but it was).

Yuna stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded as her mouth came to a close on its own, unconsciously swallowing the thick string of saliva coating her tongue.

And before she could say anything, Taehyung left a kiss on her cheek and got out of the car. "I’ll call you when I’m done. See you later." He winked at her and closed the car door behind him and walking towards the entrance of the gym, not even batting an eye back at her.

Turned on was an understatement on her end. She didn’t have the patience nor the time to wait, so she quickly drove off home, thinking about the little one-to-one session she and her pillow would be having once she got home.

Taehyung spent at least two hours at the gym, with the added time of showering and changing there.

As he left the building, he pulled out his phone and called Yuna. His muscles felt sore and he felt pretty exhausted, but he knew he had something else to do when he got back to hers. He couldn’t leave her hanging for the whole day.

Still half dressed and a random pillow between her legs, Yuna tried to get herself off in her bedroom, rolling her hips against the fluffed up pillow to help her reach her orgasm, but her phone vibrating next to her completely cut her out of it, making her groan. Wiping the sheer gloss of sweat adorning her cheeks, she picked up her phone, seeing Taehyung’s name taking over the screen.

Yuna halted her movements, staring at the screen for a couple seconds, trying to catch her breath before picking up. “Hi.. Are you finished?” she asks, her voice shaky over the phone.

Taehyung opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself upon hearing the girl’s strained voice. He immediately grinned, having already figured out what she was up to.

Turns out, he could read her like an open book, even through a phone call.

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you done or are you so miserable to not get off without me anymore?"

The cockiness could be heard within his tone from miles away. Just his voice could make her grow more excited as she started to move again, this time not bothering to try and hide it. “I’m not finished yet..”she admits, tugging at her bottom lip as she gripped onto the pillow. “Are you? I’ll come and pick you up now?”

"Oh, please, take your time. You can pick me up when you finally understand that whatever you are using to help you right now, will not do the things I can do to you,” he spoke, letting out an amused chuckle from the bottom of his throat, making it sound deep and harsh and ending the call just like that. Taehyung then started walking around, before he decided to walk to the mall that was on the opposite side of the street.

With the call now cut, Yuna let out a frustrated sigh, getting off the bed and throwing her underwear and pants back on. She already knew nothing would ever compare to what he could make her feel, and she needed him to know that.

Heels on, she rushed out of the house and got in the car, driving to the gym to see if he was still there, and much to her luck, he was not. Yuna stepped out of the car, parking it on the side of the main road before walking to the mall. She tried calling him again and again, but there was no answer.

Taehyung on the other hand, was busy shopping for himself, walking around the nearby mall. He decided to wander around the shops, while waiting for Yuna. He did a bit of his own shopping, picking out a couple suits and dress shirts for work.

Yuna continued to wander about, a few items on display catching her eye and being tempted to buy them, but she had to remind herself of the main reason why she was at the mall.

She took a few glances around at the busy people, hoping to spot Taehyung, and much luck to herself and her very perceptive eyes, she was able to notice his unique, dark locks from a mile away, stood outside the store ahead of her and holding a bunch of bags.

Taehyung failed to notice her storming towards him, too distracted by the various footwear on display in one of the stores. Not men’s footwear.

Women’s.

His body disappeared into the store, triggering the frustrated Yuna to let out a heavy huff, following him into the store. With his back turned to her, she stepped behind him, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention.

��Hm?” Taehyung turned around a little startled at how you got to him so quick considering what she was doing before she arrived. He showed her a grin, an he held onto his bags tightly. "Ah, there you are. I was just thinking about you."

Yuna narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why? Because I can’t get off without you?” she whispers, crossing her arms with a slightly annoyed look on her face.

"That is one of the two reasons, actually." His grin grew bigger, while his eyes very obviously checked her out; up and down. "What is your shoe size?"

She furrows her eyebrows at him, “A five,” she finally tells him, tapping her foot against the floor.

"Perfect,” He winks at her, disappearing into women's section to look around, leaving Yuna at the store entrance.

Taehyung called a sales assistant over and spoke to her, deliberating on the perfect pair of heels for his wonderful girlfriend, and after a couple minutes of talking, the sales assistant excused herself to the back of the store, picking out the perfect pair of heels. The lady didn’t spend too pick, emerging from the back with a black shoe box, allowing Taehyung to take a quick look before confirming his thoughts.

The lady guided him to the till Yuna catching on and following. behind him, grabbing a firm hold of his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. Her eyes watched the lady behind the counter process his payment before looking over at him.

“What did you buy?”

"Ah, just something for my lovely girlfriend." He grabbed the bag back and said his goodbyes to the worker, before leaving the store and pulling Yuna out with him. "Or my lovely little whore, if you please."

Yuna could only pout as he dragged her out of the mall “Let’s just go home, please…” she whines, clearly not in the mood for his little remarks.

Taehyung would laugh softly at her, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "Awe, is my girl pouty because she couldn’t get herself off?"

“You made me drive to the gym, and then you weren’t there, so I had come all the way to the mall, wander around to find you and when I do, you’re shopping for shoes.. You’re enjoying this much more than I am,” she mumbles, turning her head away from him.

As they both walked over to the car, Taehyung let go of her to settle inside. "Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you everything and more once we’re home. If you’re still in the mood, that is."

Yuna didn’t say anything, silently getting in the drivers seat, putting her seatbelt on and starting up the car. She didn’t bother to look at him, solely focusing on the road and occasionally tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.

He stayed silent; looking out of the window. He genuinely felt bad for her, mistakenly assuming he made her uncomfortable. But after few minutes, his eyes landed on her again, noticing the loose strands of hair over her face, but he kept his hands to himself even though he really wanted to touch her.

Yuna, on the other hand, was speeding down the road, desperate to get home as soon as possible. She left her house earlier without finishing and it felt like it was eating her alive.

When they finally got home, she handed him his car keys and got out of the vehicle, rushing to her front door to unlock it so it would be easier for him to carry all the bags in. “One session at the gym ended up being a whole shopping spree, huh?”

Taehyung followed right behind her, grabbing all the bags and locking the car, carefully walking over to her and hiding his keys in his pocket. He genuinely thought she was pissed off, and honestly, he was pretty unsteady whenever she’d get mad. He had the bitter pleasure of experiencing your anger first-hand his whole life.

Yuna opens the door, slipping out of her heels as Taehyung went to drop the bags on the sofa.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and change, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she tells him, before rushing upstairs into her bedroom to see she left the room in a mess; her sheets were creased, her used pillow sitting u touched right at the centre of her bed, She cursed quietly to herself and got to tidying up, hiding any evidence of what she was doing before leaving the house to pick him up.

Taehyung let her disappear before rummaging through all the bags, looking for the one with his gift for her in it and when he finally found it, he quietly made his way upstairs and waited outside the bedroom, assuming she was there, and waited for her to ‘change', even though he knew damn well she was just trying to cover up her tracks.

Yuna managed to make her room look a little more presentable than earlier, so she opened the door, seeing Taehyung stood outside. “Oh, did you need something?” She asks, leaning against the doorframe with a smile, trying to play off the panic she was in just a few seconds before.

She was a shit liar and so, he pushed past her smaller frame and stepped into the room, setting himself on the edge of her bed. “I wanted to give you the shoes I bought for you,” he winks at her, looking around the room for any sign of the special pillow.

“You really didn’t need to buy me anything, Taehyung..” she says quietly, trying to be humble as she took a seat next to him.

Taehyung handed her the heavy bag, "Oh, please. I wanted to, besides, treat this as a thank you for being my chauffeur and driving me around all day," yes, that and looking sexy whilst driving. He was sure she’d like it and he’d like it even more on her.

Yuna took the bag from his hands, pulling the box out of the bag, feeling that it was pretty heavy. She untied the ribbon around the box, letting it fall on her lap as she opened up the box, revealing a pair of patent leather black heels, the shine reflecting off the dim light of her bedroom.

A small gasp left her lips as she dropped the lid onto the floor, skimming her finger against the leather.

Taehyung carefully watches her, trying to hide his smile by bitting down on his lip. "If you don’t like it, we can return it, but I’d really like see you try them on."

“We are not returning these, I love them!” Yuna takes one pair out of the box, analysing the shoe in her hands. “I hope I don’t fall in them,” she chuckles, placing the box on the side of the bed, and slipping it onto her foot. She stood up to make sure it fit, and it fit perfectly, giving her the a-ok to wear the other pair. Yuna stood up to move in front of him and took a few steps back, giving him a little twirl to show off the shoes. “If only I weren’t wearing tights, they’d look much better on me.”

Taehyung watched her intently, basking in the admiring the sleekness of the heels adorning her feet "Just take them off. After all, I bought them for you, so you could show me your legs more often,” he says, reaching his hands out to tug on Yuna’s tights lightly, desperate for her to take them off.

“Are you sure you’re not just trying get your hands in my underwear?” she jokes, taking the heels off and bringing her hands down to where his were, swiftly pulling the article down her legs and letting it pool at her ankles. She steps out of the muddle and slips her feet into the heels again with some support from Taehyung yunf.

“Okay, how’s this?” she asks, taking a step back as she stood there in her underwear and her crème button up, trying to show off the heels.

"You look perfect,” he breathes out, drinking in the sight of Yuna’s bare legs before standing up and walking around her form, eager to get a look at her with the heels from every angle possible.

He then stopped behind her, pressing his chest firmly against her back before whispering,"Best purchase I’ve ever made.” Taehyung’s voice was soft, hoarse almost, as if he lacked the air to be more firm with his words. She could tell from the way his breath tickled the back of her neck.

A blush crept up on her face as she turned around to face him, her face just inches away from his. “Thank you for the shoes..” she says softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss (the heels added a couple inches to her height, but Taehyung was still a million times taller than her).

"Mhm, my pleasure."

Before he knew it, their lips were moulding into a soft kiss, Taehyung tilting his head to the side as his hands slid down to her waist and eventually settling to grab the hem of her shirt. Yuna pushed her body closer to his as her hands tangled with the hairs on the back of his head, lightly pulling on his locks as she hummed against his lips, already growing out of breath after just 10 seconds of making out.

Eventually they both pulled away, lips slightly puffy, but not as much as they normally are after one of these sessions.

"I have been meaning to ask you something rather important.." Taehyung starts, mindlessly tugging at her shirt.

“Yeah?”

"Where’s the second pillow?" He cocks a brow at her and sets his eyes on Yuna’s bed, noticing one empty spot among all her cushions, which he could only assume was the spot her ‘special pillow’ previously sat.

“Ah..” she chuckles nervously, looking down at her feet and then back up at him. “That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out,” she shrugs with a smug look on her face.

"Oh, really now?" he faked a pout, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. "I guess that’s fine. I mean, I already have a theory on what happened to it."

“Oh, really now?” she repeats his words almost mockingly. “Enlighten me, Mr Kim. What could’ve possibly happened to the pillow?”

Taehyung pulled away, tightening his grip on her hips as he leaned over to practically groan in her ear. "I think you got so high and horny from me just spitting in your mouth, that you felt like your cunt needed a good fuck, but unfortunately, I wasn’t there to assist you, so being the desperate slut that you are, you tried to fuck your precious pillow to try and cum, but you obviously failed."

Hearing exactly what she did coming from him, definitely made her sound a lot more desperate and obvious than she thought she was. “Well when you put it like that…” Yuna trails off, looking down at her feet now feeling too embarrassed to even look him in the eye.

Taehyung laughed, burying his face in the crook of her neck to a deep kiss against her unmarked skin. "So it’s true, is it not, darling?" He pulled away from her neck and looked down at her, gently lifting her chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing Yuna to look up at him.

She tilts her head to the side, looking up, pretending to think to herself. “And what if it is true? We can’t really do anything about it now since it’s in the past,” she replies, her gaze just as challenging as his.

"We can’t? Oh, dear.." Taehyung took a step away from her, "And I thought I could give you what you really craved, but oh well.."

“No! Wait..” she pouts, stepping closer to him and grabbing both his hands, placing them on her hips. “I.. couldn’t finish with the pillow..” she starts, shying away from his gaze. “The pillow couldn’t make me feel the way you do,” Yuna admits quietly, squeezing his hands.

“Ah, that’s such a shame.." He couldn't help but tease her a little, moving his hand from her hip down to her thigh and settling between them. "And what shall we do about that now? I mean.. It is in the past now."

Yuna knew he was playing around, teasing her and trying to get her to say what she wanted out loud, but if she were to submit to him, it would leave a very irreparable dent on her ego and his hands were so close to where she needed him most, he just needed to move his hand a little higher.

“You know what you’re doing..” she mumbles.

"Of course I do. I’m trying to make you say what exactly you want from me." His hand trailed up and down her thighs, with every move, his hand got closer to her clothed cunt, but didn't dare to touch her yet, not until he got what he wanted from her.

“Please, you know what I want, Tae..” she tries to sound angry, but her words come out as a desperate whine. If Yuna gave him what he wanted, he would forget about it and m not hesitate to use it against her when the opportunity arises. But, she’d been waiting for this for several hours. Now she had the chance to finally get what she wanted, and that was the only thing on her mind.

“I want your hands.. and you’re tongue..” she whispers, hoping he’d show her some mercy.

Taehyung’s smirk grew bigger, his fingers finally brushing over the damp centre of her panties, wasting no time in rubbing slow, circular motions with his thumb against her throbbing clit. A heavy sigh of relief sounded from Yuna, finally having the man she needed most help her finish what she started.

“See? Good things happen you listen.”

Yuna nodded at his words, placing her hands on his shoulders, gripping onto his clothes to keep herself steady as her legs buckled beneath her, hips edging themselves towards his thumb for more.

Taehyung shifted to use his whole hand to rub her through her panties, using so much force and pressure, he could’ve sworn he almost lifted her off the floor and it elicited a sharp gasp from Yuna. He then leaned his head to the side of her own, as his tongue went to lick her earlobe.

Her grip on his shoulder was much tighter than before, knuckles almost turning white. She could barely keep herself standing, the heels making it even harder for her as her legs shook and her hips started to move on their own; back and forth against his hand.

Taehyung’s breath hitched in his throat, as he felt his hand soak up the arousal from between his legs, too much actually, he had to force his hand away from her, putting a halt to her desperation chase. "How about you show me what you did to that pillow when I was gone, but we make it a little more exciting?"

“Exciting?” she questions, pulling away from him and dragging him towards the bed. She climbed onto the bed, sitting right at the centre, sitting with her heels still on either side of her.

He adjusts his rings around his digits, playing around with them, "How about you set yourself on my lap? I bet you look like an absolute masterpiece riding my thigh.”

Yuna’s eyes wandered down to his torso, already seeing a very prominent bulge forming against his pants. She snapped her eyes back up to him and nodded eagerly. “But would you be able to handle it?” she asks, obviously trying to provoke him.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me.." he says back down on the bed, "If I feel like I can’t handle it, I will simply fuck you harder than before and leave you with the inability to do nothing but cum for me on command,” he flashes her a wink, biting down on his bottom lip as he pat his thigh, giving her the all-clear.

Just the simple gesture of him patting his thigh for her to sit on almost made her cum on the spot, but Yuna knew better than to cum untouched. She crawled over to him on the bed, climbing over his lap so she was snow traddling his thigh. She lifted herself off of him a couple of times to adjust herself so she was stable before pressing her clothed cunt down against him, the contact against his dress pants making her wince.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you take your panties off, but not just yet." His hands reached down to take off his belt and discard of it elsewhere, unbuttoning his pants to make make more room for his growing bulge.

Taehyung’s words went through one ear and out the other since she was already making a move. Yuna licked over her bottom lip as her hips started to move back and forth against his thigh, trying to get herself a bit more riled up. Any subtle contact between her legs would easily set her off as she looked down between their bodies, taking notice of the damp little puddle on his pants from where her soaked pussy sat.

“Look at you, makin’ a mess,” he taunts, generously rubbing the small of her back without disturbing her provocative actions.

The constant brushing of her clit against his thigh left her in pieces. She was throwing her head back, gripping onto the hem of her shirt to make the pleasure more bearable, but it was useless. Yuna gazed down at him with hooded eyes and red cheeks, “D-don’t look at me..” she breathes out, slightly embarrassed to be seen in such a state.

He reached his hand up to wrap around her throat gently, yet the hint of force was noticeable as Taehyung urged her to keep her eyes on him. "Oh, baby, but I want to look at you. And you’re gonna look at me and show me how much you’re enjoying this,” he taunts her, letting his eyes drop down to witness the growing mess on his lap. It was the perfect way to show Yuna just how powerless she was around him,

She wanted to cuss him out so bad. The urge to call him an asshole stayed at the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t dare to let it slip, knowing full well it wouldn’t get her anywhere, She looked down between her legs, noticing how damp and sticky his thigh had become because of her actions and it was almost degrading to see how how easily she was aroused by such little contact. But still, Yuna couldn’t stop. She was so desperate to cum, she was almost there.

“So close, Tae…”

Both his hands now land on her hips, helping her fuck herself hard enough to make her orgasm come quicker. "Come on, baby, cum for me. Nothing’s stopping you.”

Yuna’s mouth had fallen slack, giving Taehyung the perfect opportunity to slaver into her mouth, watching as some of the thick substance landed on the side of her lips, slowly dripping down on them.

She stuck her tongue out to lick at the excess, desperate for a taste as his blasphemous words were enough for her orgasm to come crashing down on her; inner thighs squeezing around him as the very obvious substance of white piled onto his pants. Yuna flipped her hair to the side as she brought a hand down her body and to her sensitive clit, gently playing with the sensitive bud to help ride out her orgasm.

Taehyung hummed, gently grazing her cheek with his fingertips. "Such a good girl, doing as I say. How about you come sit on my face and my tongue’ll do you a million times better?”

Yuna climbed off his lap, crawling onto the bed and sitting on her knees, patiently waiting for him like a lost puppy. There was a short silence between the two as she thought for a moment. She’d never sat on someone’s face before, and from all the pornos she’d watched, it looked pretty enjoyable, but she didn’t wanna mess up.

“I do.. but I’ve never done it before,” she admits, taking off the buttons of her button up, pulling the material down her arms and discarding it onto the floor, leaving her in her bra.

"And that’s a problem because?" Taehyung shot her a warm smile getting ready and lying on his back. He undid his pants a little to give his straining erection some breathing room.

Yuna felt reassured knowing he wasn’t put off by it, so she climbed over his body, straddling his torso before lifting herself slightly and moving higher and higher up his body until her bare cunt was hovering above his face. “If I’m hurting you, just squeeze my thigh really hard and I’ll stop.”

Taehyung didn’t need to be told. Getting hurt was the last thing he cared about. Hell, Yuna could suffocate him between her thighs and he still wouldn’t give a damn about his life. But just for her sake, "Alright, I promise I will." He tried his best to look up at her to provide some moral support, but the glistening, in front of his face made it hard for him, yet he still managed. He then took a deep breath and licked his lips a bit, which wasn't necessary since her cunt was soaked.

Slowly and carefully, Yuna started sinking herself down against his mouth, Taehyung immediately trapping her puffy clit between his lips and sucking harshly, almost forcing her down onto his face. She didn’t dare to move yet, waiting a few seconds for him to adjust before she was given permission to move.

Taehyung let out a hum against her, the vibrations causing her spine to tingle as he set a firm slap on her thigh, letting her know that she was allowed to move.

She started to rock her hips against his tongue slowly as her body stuttered above him from his teasing licks. She was still trying to get used to it all but it felt immense with his tongue all up inside her as her walls clenched around him in a bid to keep him there. Her small whimpers were becoming louder by the second and soon enough, Yuna picked up the pace at her own accord.

Taehyung’s tongue was delving between her folds, running up against her slit teasingly before plunging his tongue into her tight hole, thrusting inside of her and occasionally pulling out to show some love to her beat folds. It was getting harder for him to catch a breath, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop; trailing his hands up to cup her bouncing tits, squeezing them within his grasp squeezing and pinching her tout nipples between his fingers.

Yuna tried to refrain from making too much noise but failed miserably when his tongue reached deep inside of her, brushing against her walls and not once did she stop moving. “Hmph— more…” If anything, her movements only became more aggressive as she desperately tried to chase her second orgasm of the night that was already nearing.

Taehyung would feel the need to groan into her soaked cunt, catching a few breaths before the tip of his nose was budging against her clit again. It made his dick jump in his pants non-stop, and when he suddenly felt Yuna’s hands gripping at his hair, shoving his face deeper against her legs, he managed to cop a taste of her orgasm lacing his tongue.

She was way far too lost within the pleasure, having little to no time to give Taehyung a warning as she let loose all over his tongue, muttering a string of curse words that he was (for sure) gonna scold her for later.

Yuna’s body was a shaking mess as her hips slowed down and eventually she shifted down his body, getting a better look at his face and making sure he was okay.

When she finally got off of him after hitting her orgasm, Taehyung gasped, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, glistening with her arousal as his eyes landed on her. His breathing was heavy and unsteady, but he managed to catch the missed strings of cum that had landed on his chin. “Mhm, you never fail to disappoint, my love.”

That wasn’t enough to ease Yuna’s overthinking, as she grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to sit up whilst she sat on his lap. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” she asks, piling more and more questions on top of him and holding his face in her hands.

It was cute how concerned she was, and he showed her a soft smile of reassurance. "I’m okay. Don’t worry about me, you were amazing." Taehyung nuzzles his cheek against her palm, basking in her warmth.

Yuna showed him a fond smile, brushing her thumb over his cheek as she felt a sudden twitch between her legs. She looked down between their bodies to see his heavily straining erection sitting directly under her abused cunt, desperate to be freed. “Can you handle it?” she asks him again, clearly challenging the older man.

He doesn’t waste another second, pulling away from her and taking off any clothing he had on and throwing it into the corner of the room, leaving his cock stiff and ready. Taehyung looked back at her, leaving yet another kiss on her lips, giving Yuna a taste of what she’d left behind.

She lifted herself of his lap so his tip was aligned with her entrance, slowly sinking herself down him, leaking head sliding into her with such ease, there was barely any pain as her mouth fell open against his lips. Taehyung took the chance he was given and kissed Yuna again, this time with more desperation and need; his tongue swiping along her bottom lip from time to time, as he buried himself deep inside her.

“Shit— you’re so warm..”

As he fucked slowly started to himself into her, Yuna found it more and more difficult to kiss him back as a string of profanities and curses left her mouth from the overbearing pleasure. “Oh, God.. Fuck— Taehyung..!” The tip of his cock was repeatedly bruising against her sweet spot; right where she needed him and it left her breaking down on top of him.

Taehyung finally gave up on her lips and went to leave a trail of hot kisses down her neck, the kisses soon becoming little nips and bites he was certain would leave marks all over. “Hm, all this just because you couldn’t wait for me, huh?” His hands rested on the small of her back, guiding his cock to push inside her with the added subtle thrust of his hip. His lips latched onto her nipple, coating the hard bud in his saliva as he groaned.

Yuna’s hands tangled themselves in his hair, her grip tightening in sync to her walls clamping down on him as she failed to process the man’s demeaning words. He was merely speaking the truth.

The mess between her legs was certainly a site; a mixture of her arousal and cum dripping down the base of his length as the sounds of skin slapping, and Yuna’s broken moans filled the room.

He didn't even bother to warn her, slamming his dick inside of her and forcing a cry to rip from her throat. Taehyung’s pace was relentless as he continuously thrusted into her, not giving a care in the world whether Yuna could handle it or not.

She was gonna take everything he gave her.

Before he knew it, thick, warm strings of cum tarnished her insides. He didn't care that he finished before her, all he cared about was draining himself empty in her warmth, and he knew Yuna would take it, feeling his cock twitch uncontrollably between her mesh walls.

“You okay, Yuna?” Taehyung asks softly, rubbing small circles over her lower back as she wrapped her arms around him, bringing his head closer to her chest.

“Mhm…” Her hold wasn’t too tight, she’d fallen limp in his arms and all she could feel now was his cock pumping her full of his cum, slowly peeking out from between her legs.

In a bid to recover from his orgasm, Taehyung carefully thrusted into her a couple more times, making sure he had nothing left within him, only eager to give Yuna all that he could muster.

He could only smile at her form, taking in how tired and exhausted she was, and it warmed his heart immensely at how eager she was to be please him, yet, Yuna could just breathe and he’d be all over her.

“You did good, my love..” Taehyung whispers softly, caressing her head gently and leaving her within his hold, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms.

taglist: @satorinnie @rosedtae @jimin444 @bts-ruu @ishi091 @tan-veee @loomipee @yange7l

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[masterofmunson]

look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+ 

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing. 

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed. 

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him. 

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul. 

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him. 

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly. 

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was. 

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam. 

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question. 

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough. 

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you. 

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone. 

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly. 

“What is it, Sam?” 

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam? 

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor. 

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in. 

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him. 

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia. 

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam. 

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car. 

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person. 

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously. 

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense. 

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation. 

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand. 

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you. 

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her. 

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him. 

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude. 

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky. 

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier. 

 “We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face. 

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real. 

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did. 

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours. 

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake. 

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand. 

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers. 

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back. 

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you. 

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs. 

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind. 

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure. 

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl. 

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs. 

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you. 

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car. 

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same. 

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to. 

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?” 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return. 

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased. 

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar. 

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow. 

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian. 

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath. 

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.” 

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need. 

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam. 

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky. 

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it. 

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan. 

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years. 

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you. 

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood. 

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring. 

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic. 

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah. 

“Kill them—” 

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over. 

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm. 

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives. 

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious. 

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out. 

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue. 

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him. 

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off. 

Time stands still. 

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot. 

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town. 

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound. 

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you. 

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked. 

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond. 

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor. 

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit. 

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat. 

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder. 

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling. 

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila. 

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name. 

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. 

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it. 

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe. 

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back. 

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued. 

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you. 

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home. 

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again. 

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you. 

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :) 

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“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow. 

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss. 

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering. 

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared. 

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature. 

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world. 

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band. 

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now. 

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again. 

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat. 

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her. 

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give. 

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued. 

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her. 

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on. 

But oh, how much she wanted it to. 

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly. 

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all? 

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more. 

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered. 

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right. 

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her. 

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck. 

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone. 

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

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[s-brant]

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

​​Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (11/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: you know what's coming - the truth.

Warnings: angst, minor violence

Word Count: 2k

A/N: i listened to my favorite saddest songs while writing. be prepared. thanks for your kind feedback! gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

JJ snaps you out of your thoughts. There's an expression on her face that you can't find the words for. "Y/N? What does she mean?"

You have to swallow. Your throat is tight and you can barely breathe, so you cling to her to keep from sinking to the floor. You can't take your eyes off the two in the interrogation room.

"What deal?" Spencer sits up straighter than he already does. His whole body is tense.

Cat shakes her head. "I thought you weren't here to talk about her or you."

When Spencer slaps the table with his palm, she doesn't even flinch. You do, the harder, and JJ's hands clench into fists. But you only notice this out of the corner of your eye. "What deal, Cat?" His tone is harsh, leaving no room for Cat's games.

She sighs. "Maybe you should ask her yourself. After all, she did come here with you, didn't she? I don't think she'd skip this dance." Cat looks past Spencer to the one-way mirror, straight through it, as if she knows you'd be standing right there. Her grin is crooked and ugly. "Come on, Y/N. You should know I don't bite. Not without notice, anyway."

You feel JJ's gaze on you as you enter the interrogation room without a word. You close the door behind you and out of the corner of your eye you notice Spencer looking at you. But your gaze is fixed straight on Cat. You stop right at the door.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N."

You don't have to be a mind reader to know what's going on in Spencer's head. It's practically written all over his face. Again?

"Hi, Cat," you reply curtly. You feel like shooting her.

"I always knew you lived dangerously. But I didn't think you were stupid. Yet you were the smartest one on your team. No offense, Spencie." She says it like she's bored out of her mind, not like the whole situation could completely escalate in the next second. Spencer tries not to let on, but you can read the confusion on his face. "I guess I was wrong about that."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, involuntarily taking a step forward. Cat takes it as a sign to keep talking.

"I know you killed my partner in crime. Must have been quite a mess, I'm told. Shot right through the head. Kudos, Y/N. I knew you were smart, but you're also badass. Who would have thought." She raises her hand and inspects her filthy and chewed fingernails. Her gaze drifts to you without her moving her head. She looks at you through her eyelashes, which makes her look crazy. "Quite a pity about him. But he was really just my accomplice's boyfriend. So, not worth mentioning."

Accomplice? Boyfriend?

It only takes a brief moment for everything to come together in your head. Apparently, all emotion falls from your face, because Cat looks extremely pleased. "You didn't play by the rules, Y/N. And now someone else has to pay for it."

In three steps, you've crossed the room and pulled Cat from her chair. Before Spencer can stop you, you push her full force against the nearest wall, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. You press your forearm against her throat and she lets out a hoarse laugh. Her gaze mirrors yours. Fierce and unyielding. The pressure on her throat intensifies and she has to cough.

You feel big hands on your shoulders, yanking you back so that you stagger and bump into the table. For a brief moment, you want to fight back as you leap forward again to put a stop to Cat once and for all, but Spencer extends his arm to allow some distance between you. You don't look at him. Out of anger and out of shame, because this isn't you.

"What's going on here?", he finally asks when you've pulled yourself together a bit and he's sure you won't kill her the next chance you get. "What's she talking about, Y/N?"

Cat's look is challenging and you know full well she's not going to say anything. She's dropped the bomb and now it's up to you to make sure the explosion isn't too devastating. You look at Spencer and tears form in the corners of your eyes. There's no way to get around it. And he better hear it from you than from some crazy psychopath. You owe him that much.

"When you were arrested", you begin, hoping your voice doesn't sound as brittle as it does, "it was clear to me from the start that Scratch couldn't be responsible. When you were taken to Millburn Correctional Facility instead of protective custody, it should have been obvious to the others. It was no accident that they sent you there. It was too personal." You can barely look at him, which is why you stare at the floor. "It couldn't have been Scratch, but there was no one else who had a score to settle with you." Your gaze shifts to Cat, "Except for her.

I had no proof, nothing. But I was one hundred percent sure she had something to do with it. So I talked to Emily. She gave me the day off, and I came here." You suppress the urge to knead your hands, so you shove them into your pants pockets. Your gaze wanders back to the floor, though you'd like to look at Spencer. You want to know what's going on inside him, but you don't dare. "Cat denied having anything to do with it at first, but I didn't believe her. And then she made a deal."

"And that included?" asks Spencer. You have to swallow.

"She would get you out of jail, after all, she put you in there too. I knew you wouldn't make it through jail. And not because you were too weak, but because I knew there were some people there who wouldn't bat an eye to hurt a FBI agent like you. And I couldn't stand that, so I went for it." With each word, your voice grows quieter, though you try to sound as determined as possible. But the pain weighs you down and takes away your breath. You remember the visit then, and what it had cost you.

"And what did she want in return?" Spencer's eyes glisten as if tears have formed in them. He blinks once, and the shine disappears. "What the hell did she want, Y/N?"

You can't stop the tears streaming down your cheeks Your heart is beating fast, like it's about to jump out of your chest. You take a deep breath and brace yourself for what follows. "She - she wanted me to leave you. Cat knew that prison could never hurt you the way I would if I abandoned you. If I left, with no explanation and no goodbye."

Spencer's shoulders sink and his muscles are no longer stretched to breaking point. You don't dare look at him, so you stare at Cat, whose grin has actually widened. Psychopathic sadist.

"Actually, Y/N was never supposed to come back either", she continues the explanation, but Spencer continues to look at you. "That was the deal. You weren't supposed to tell anyone about this and never come back, but you didn't stick to that. You thought if you killed the guy and I continued to be in here, you could go back home and get on with your life." Her grin disappears and suddenly she looks incredibly bitter. "Very reckless, if you ask me. My birdie knows you're back home, and as a warning, she left you a trail of dead married men. Apparently you got the message, after all, you're here. That they are dead is all your fault, Y/N. Because you couldn't stay away from your beloved Spencer." She looks from you to Spencer. "It's tragic, isn't it? She loves you so much that she took on all that pain just so you could get out of jail. How incredibly selfless of her. And I'm pretty sure you weren't exactly kind to her when she returned, were you, Spencie?"

Spencer and you can't look at each other, so heavy is the pain on your shoulders. All the anger, despair, and confusion that had spread through you since you saw each other again gives way to an all-consuming feeling of pressure that you can't shake. The only thing that can give you both some comfort is the clarity that has been created. Spencer now knows what really went on, and you no longer have to keep secrets from him. But the matter is far from over.

You look to Cat, but can't find the words. She's won.

You leave the interrogation room without looking at Spencer or saying another word. What could you have possibly said? JJ looks at you with widened eyes as you rush past her. She has her cell phone to her ear, probably talking to Emily, but calls after you, but you don't stop. The air in the building is stuffy and you feel like you're choking on it. Your heart is racing and you feel sick. You just want to get out.

"Y/N." Spencer's voice forces you to stop. You stop so jerkily that you almost fall. When you turn to face him, he's standing right in front of you. His gaze is hard. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't know exactly what to say either.

"I can't, Spencer", you beat him to it. You want to turn and keep walking, but his hand curls around your arm. At the touch, you're struck by lightning.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

You should. Definitely. "She had the men killed because I returned", you whisper. "She killed them because I couldn't take it anymore. Because I wanted to be with you. It's all my fault, Spencer. And I'll take the consequences for that."

"So you're just going to leave? Without explanation and without goodbye?"

You don't want to leave, quite the opposite. You would love to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him and never let go. You want to tell him you love him, but you can't. "I can't stay, Spencer. If I did, she would kill more people. I can't be responsible for that. I'm sorry."

You turn away from him, but as you take a step forward, Spencer pulls you back, making you slam against his chest. Your hands settle on the soft fabric of his shirt as his settle on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. His expression has changed. There is deep sadness in his eyes and he tries to blink away the tears that have formed in the corners of his eyes, but they fall down his cheekbones. All at once, he looks so young. "Promise me you'll come back? Back to me?" One of his hands clasps both of yours, still resting on his chest. He holds them tightly, afraid of losing you again.

You smile weakly at him and tears come to your eyes too. Your smile is honest, but sad. "I will always come back to you."

- tags -

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[ragingbookdragon]

He Said, "Times Like These I Don't Want To Be A Superstar"

Booster Gold x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Slight Angst

Author's Note: BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD IS A HERO AND YOU WILL RESPECT HIM, EVEN IF HE'S A MORON. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He’d noticed that the eldest Wayne son liked to watch the people he was around—much like his father did—listening, learning, piecing together what made people tick, what made them do the things they did. Booster was sure the man could pull a Sherlock and tell someone every piece of their life history just by a single glance. They’d gone on two dates—if you could count one Justice League mission where they worked together and then a training session afterwards, dates. And yet, he’d still not asked Booster about his past. He had no doubt that Batman had given his son free reign of the Batcomputer files; he’d read up on Booster…why hadn’t he asked?

***

They slid into the diner booth, both rather beat after the long training session. Booster was beginning to feel pain in places he wasn’t sure he was supposed to, but (Y/N)’d assured him it was all normal during the process of learning Muay Thai. Booster had watched Batman and (Y/N) go out it for about ten minutes with the martial arts form, and even Clark was wincing with each kick, knee, and elbow the two exchanged. And then (Y/N) got Booster in the ring and started training him; he was grateful—his hand-to-hand was basic at best.

Still though, he wasn’t sure how to act around (Y/N). He’d heard stories of the black op squad leaders exploits, the great SPECTRES running around the world, saving it and the places where the Justice League overlooked; Batman wasn’t too fond of the killing, but he beamed with pride when he talked about (Y/N)’s squad taking down terrorist groups and human trafficking rings. Booster wasn’t jealous, but he wanted to learn from the man. Wanted to know how he was so well liked within the superhero community, and just by normal people.

“You’re doing it again,” (Y/N) suddenly said and Booster shook himself out of his stupor, blinking as he gazed at the man, watching as he merely took a glance around the room.

“Doing what?” Booster asked.

He chuckled. “That thing where you think so hard everyone can smell the smoke billowing out of your ears.”

Booster flushed. “Sorry. Just thinking…about stuff.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anything you feel like sharing with the class?”

Booster grinned, though the smile dropped into a frown as he took a moment to find the correct way to communicate his worries. “How much do you know…about me? Like really know about me?”

“How much do you want me to tell you I really know?” he retorted with a sly smile, eyes twinkling with mirth and something deeper—intrigue, or maybe it was expectation.

“Have you read my file?”

“What makes you think you have a file to read up on?”

Booster shot (Y/N) a rather unimpressed look as he deadpanned, “Your dad is Ba—ruce Wayne,” he corrected with a cough. “There’s a file on everyone.”

“Fair,” he agreed, opening up the menu; (Y/N) scanned it, refusing to look at Booster, which only made the man shift nervously in his seat. “Got curious when you entered the scene. Asked dad to send me the file on you. Skimmed it, put it back, let it be your business.” He gazed at Booster. “Why?”

“I’m…not a good man to be around, (Y/N). I—”

“Because of the gambling in college? Or the stealing?”

“…Both…” he murmured, looking at his hands, then a self-loathing smile came over his lips. “What’d your dad’s file say? That I’m an ego-maniac who puts on airs because he’s a second-rate hero that’ll never amount to anything?” (Y/N) merely gazed at him, watching, waiting. “I wanted fame, (Y/N). Glory. That’s why I came back here. It’s why I do what I do.”

Booster looked at him. “The only people who ever want to be around me are Ted and Skeets. Why do you hang around?” he shrugged. “Why do like me?”

(Y/N) thanked the waitress for handing them their drinks and set his cup to the side. “You bet on your games to save your mom’s life. Without the money, she wouldn’t’ve gotten the treatments and most likely would’ve died. If she hadn’t, your family would’ve drowned in medical debt.”

He tore the paper to his straw. “Your theft was a problem, but you recognized the error of your ways and made up for it with the jail time.” Slowly, he pulled the plastic tube out of the white paper. “Your ego is as big as your head, but when proven wrong, you admit it, sulkily, but you do.” (Y/N) crumpled the wrapper. “You have no skill other than the technological advances of your suit and Skeets’ help.”

Placing the straw in his drink, he added, “You suck at hand-to-hand combat, but you learn quickly when there’s a threat to your pretty face, so that’s a plus. You’re loud and obnoxious, but you’re clever enough to keep low so that you don’t alter the future by being a globally renowned hero.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Ted’s your best friend and Skeets is stuck with you. I’m here because I see what’s underneath.” He searched Booster’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Michael. Can you be an idiot? Absolutely. Can you be annoying as hell? Yeah. Can you leap without looking where you’re going? All the time. But at the end of the day, your friends know that if they needed help, they could count on you to back them up, even if you knew you might not know what you were doing.”

He pointed at Booster. “And that’s what makes you a hero.” (Y/N) smiled, gesturing to himself. “Michael, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. Been a lot of things I’m not proud of. But the difference between being a hero and parading as one, is what you do when you keep getting knocked down. Real heroes get back up. Frauds cower and hide.”

Tipping his head to the side, he offered Booster a look of chance. “So? Are you the hero? Or the fraud? All evidence points to the former.”

Booster was stunned silent. He had no words, no clever quips, no heart-throbbing lines to throw back. He was completely speechless. His mouth was moving, forming words his vocal cords wouldn’t produce as wet warmth flooded his bright blue eyes, and all he could do was lower his head, putting his hands over his face to hide the tears.

(Y/N) knocked his foot against Booster’s calf. “I’m gonna tell Ted I made you cry on our third date.”

A laugh bubbled from Booster’s chest as he quickly wiped his eyes, chuckles escaping his lips every couple seconds; he looked at him, murmuring, “Thanks (Y/N).”

He shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth, Michael.”

“Yeah…but it means a lot to me.”

(Y/N) set his hand on Booster’s, the man turned his hand palm up in response, thumb running over the smooth skin of his palm as he replied, “You mean a lot to me.”

“I do?” he questioned in disbelief. “Really? You like me?”

“I only taught you how to break someone’s skin open with your elbow and how to break ribs and legs with a solid kick,” (Y/N) snorted. “So, yeah, I like you.”

“You’ve got an awfully weird way of showing you’ve got the hots for me,” Booster grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Better than your lame pickup lines and offers to go out on missions with you.”

“Hey! You agreed!”

“Because it was pitiful how love-struck you were with me.”

“I am not love-struck!”

“Really? ‘Cause a little gold robot told me you’ve been recording dirty diary entries about me.”

“What?! Skeets told you!”

“Well, he didn’t, but you just confirmed the suspicion. Nice going, Sherlock.”

“OH MY GOD!”

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[barcaavengers]

Weakness || Bucky Barnes Imagine || Pt. 1

Note: I just had to jump in the Bucky Barnes train after watching TFATWS and with Sebastian looking like that it gave me much needed muse to get back into writing. So Here it is! I feel like this is fast paced but I'm already working on the second part. Let's see how this goes. This goes from Episode 3 and transitions to Episode 4 at the end so consider some spoilers? As always, let me know your thoughts and I'm open to ideas!

Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

The idea of going to see Zemo to get any leads wasn't something you were particularly fond of when Bucky decided to go in there by himself. Yes, you trusted the soldier, but it was Zemo who you didn't trust. He was responsible for the break up of the Avengers. If it wouldn't have been for those events you would have all been together to defeat Thanos.

Your combat skills were what gave you the spot in the Avengers. You didn't have a serum, or superpowers, no tech to give you advantage, you were just really good with guns, strategies and tactics, learned to think outside the box.

You know everything is about to go to hell when Bucky takes you and Sam to a warehouse filled with cars and starts talking about breaking Zemo out of jail.

"Do you remember what that man did to all of us? To you? To T'Chaka?" You ask between Bucky and Sam who were looking at each other, that was until the squeak of the warehouse house doors interrupted. The three of you turn to look as a shadow got closer until…

"What the hell?! You said it was hypothetical! What is he doing out, Barnes!?" You snarl and take two quick steps towards Zemo.

"We need him, Y/N!" Bucky blocks your path.

"You are going back to prison!" Sam shouts, Bucky putting his hand on Sam's chest.

"If I may…"

"No!" The three of you shout, looking at Zemo before turning to each other.

"It's the only way! We can't do this alone!" Bucky states. "When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you two backed him. You broke the law and stuck your neck out for me… I'm asking you to do it again."

"This is different! It was to protect you from him but now you are asking us to work with his ass after everything?" You question. You would do it in a heart beat because he was asking for it, but the thought of being crossed by someone like Zemo was what had you on edge.

Sam only sighed and you knew, yet again, he would go through with Bucky's plan. "Okay. If we do this, you won't make a move without our permission…" Sam says and your eyes close as you let out a huff.

You are all walking down the bridge once you get escorted to the city of Madripoor, Low Town specifically. "You need to stay in character, no matter what happens" Zemo says.

"The assistant, shouldn't be that hard" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"Anyone would love such role, Y/N. I would prefer if your dislike didn't show when we get there" he says. "It is the only way to explain why we brought a lady along to such dangerous business."

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, but thanks for your concern. That's sweet coming from someone like you" you say and you can spot Zemo smiling from your spot behind him.

"You okay?" Bucky asks once he falls behind you, looking at the surroundings and taking everything in.

"I'm not thrilled about this, but I guess we have no choice" you say as you look around, then your eyes fall on his frame. "What about you?"

"I don't know anymore…" he says before you all get inside the club.

Everyone fell silent when Bucky walked in, watching him, wondering if it really was the Winter Soldier. You have never been in the same space with Bucky in public, so the whispers and the looks had you feeling a kind of way, almost defensive, but you had to keep your role and give smiles to strangers while you walked with Zemo with your arms linked. You look around the place, leaning against the counter, hiding back a smirk as Sam drinks whatever the hell they just put in on his 'usual' drink.

"Zemo might not be welcomed here, but his assistant can stay as long as she wants" a man says into your ear and you are quick to move away.

"Excuse me?" You eye the man on your side.

"What's your name pretty face? I can get you a better job than being an assistant" the man reaches to push your hair away from your face, letting his hand linger on your shoulder and your body tenses. Sam meets your eyes and slowly shakes his head, knowing you were about to break character and beat the hell out of this man. Zemo noticed, but kept a neutral expression.

"If he doesn't take his hand off you…" You hear Bucky murmur under his breath. You gesture with your hand at him carefully to not give anything up, just raising two fingers towards him.

"Who says I want a better job?" You smirk and reach for your drink, sipping on it on one go.

Zemo turns to look at Bucky, and you have heard the words Winter Soldier in Romanian enough times to know them, so when Zemo speaks them and Bucky nods, your heart stops. He is swift in his moves and in a blur he is gripping and twisting the hand of the man that was bothering you. He looks back at you as he shoves the man away, your eyes meet for a moment before it all starts. Men from left and right start throwing themselves to him, like if they stood a chance against the Winter Soldier. Seeing him like this sent chills down your spine. Quick, agile, ruthless. His moves were so calculated, so life ending. The Winter Soldier might be gone but his skills and moves were there alright, you only hoped it was just that.

"It didn't take much for him to fall back into form" Zemo says on your side almost as if he read your thoughts.

"Make it stop, Zemo or I swear I'll jump in the fight…" you snarl.

"Stay in character or the whole place will be upon us" Zemo says and you let out a huff. "Your soldier will be fine. It's all part of the show…"

"He is not my soldier…" your eyes couldn't get away from Bucky, who now had a man pinned on the table and that's when you hear the clicking of a gun.

Things take a bad turn real quick. Sam got caught in his character thanks to a phone call. Selby got killed and now there was a bounty for her killers who were apparently the four of you, then Sharon saved your assess and took you to her place. You were getting ready for the party, something comfortable to fight should it be needed. Bucky leans against the bathroom frame while you curl your hair, "You know that will go away soon though, right? When you pick on the next fight."

"If it lasts me two minutes it would be worth it" you say with a smirk as you look at him through the mirror, placing the iron on the counter you turn to look at him, he offers you a weak smile. "Well you look handsome" you say as you eye him. The black suit looked so good on him, and it just made his blue eyes stand out.

"You look... beautiful" he blinks as he eyes you, his hands falling into his pockets.

"Well thank you" your cheeks flush. After a few seconds, your gaze softens when you feel he is...off. "Are you okay, Buck? I know that what you did back there..." you trail off.

"I'm fine. Its just… I'm still processing..." he shrugs.

"You shouldn't have gone through with the plan. We could've found another way…"

"We didn't have time to find another way. Zemo knew that way would give us the information we needed" he says.

"I still don't like that he is using you like this..." you say with a frown.

He remains silent for a moment, wetting his lips before speaking. "Y/N, I know we-"

"You two done?" Sam interrupts and James takes an annoyed intake of breath, your gaze drops.

"Yeah" James walks away without a look back and you chew on your lower lip.

"Did I interrupt something?" Sam says with a smug smile.

"Get out" You walk out of the bathroom and Sam throws his arm around you, laughing.

"You two were having a moment there, weren't you?" Sam teases as you walk, poking on your shoulder. "Listen, you gotta do this smoothly. He is all rusty. He hasn't had a date in like 70 years."

"He probably wants to be by himself to finish that notebook, and right now nothing can distract us" you frown.

"You distract each other already" Sam says between laughs. "One of you will be in danger and the other will run and save the other."

"That's what I mean. Zemo said it earlier, the Winter Soldier has a reputation. If he has to keep playing the part, I'll be trying to stop him even more than I already do. I can't blow off the mission because of whatever this is..."

"Alright, you got a point, but talk to him, alright? If you want, take him out of the party and work it out" Sam pats your back as you walk out to the living room area.

"Looking sharp, Y/N" Sharon says with a grin once you come out and you twirl with a laugh. "Enjoy the party. Stay out of trouble, I'll see what I can find."

"Shall we then?" Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

"Let's go" you link your arm with his, just to play along. After this time with Zemo you figured out you might as well enjoy yourself, there was still a long way ahead before getting rid of him again. He didn't seem so bad since he broke out, you still didn't trust him though.

Once at the party, you stick around with Zemo. Sam and Bucky are somewhere around the lounge surveying the place, you all still had a bounty on your heads anyway. Meanwhile you are with Zemo, who was making some moves that had you giggling and laughing. He took your hand and started going around you before letting go and you grin. "Should've known you were this fun I would've helped breaking you out" you tease over the music.

"Didn't had a chance" Zemo says and smiles as he claps while letting the music move him. He eyes something behind you before looking back at you. "Your soldier can't seem to stop looking at you" you want to turn around, but you decided against it.

"He is not my soldier…" you say. "He is just watching out for us. We have prices on our heads remember?" You tap your head as you say the words. "And you have him acting as our bodyguard."

"I know your hatred was fueled when I had him act in such way, and I do apologize for such plan but it was the only way" he says. "You would know if you understood how things realistically move" he says.

"Apology accepted" you say. Zemo takes your hand and twirls you, and you catch a glimpse of Bucky walking towards the two of you.

"I believe we have company" Zemo says into your ear. "You know where to find me" he says and walks out and into the crowd with his own, awkward dancing pace. You giggle at it before turning around and finding Bucky close.

His shoulders were tense under that black suit that made him look so good, and his scowl was too obvious. "Having fun with Zemo?" He asks, everyone around you was moving to the music, except him who only looked to where Zemo had disappeared to, his tongue poking in annoyance at his cheek.

"Just wanted to get to know him a bit more. Is not an everyday thing we hang with a Most Wanted prisoner" you say with a shrug. "Who you broke out of jail may I add."

"I didn't do anything" he says and his gaze averts from yours.

"For being one hundred and six you are an awful liar, Buck" you smirk, but he doesn't say anything. His hands are tucked in his pockets, eyeing everything but you. "Relax. Enjoy the music."

"This isn't my type of music" he says coldly and looks around the place once again.

"Fine…" you stop on your moves. Might as well take Sam's suggestion, plus you could see this scenario and the music was too much for him. "Come on, let's go back upstairs and talk" you hold your hand out for him and he looks at it, he hesitates before his glove covered hand wraps around yours and you lead the way.

"I told you, I'll be fine" he sighs as he sits down on the couch, you sit right beside him.

"Bullshit, Barnes" you say as you drop down. "When you were fighting those people…"

"It was just an act…I'm not a killer anymore..."

"I know, Buck" you reach to put your hand on his knee, which he eyes before looking at you. "But you didn't go to therapy to get over this only to be pulled again for a show. This isn't right."

"I'm okay, I promise…" he trails off. "I'm just getting used to all of this" his hand covers yours, sending electricity through your nerves.

"I promised Steve I would look out for you to not do anything stupid," you smile at him "I am not a super soldier or have any powers, but if I can help. I will do what I can…" you admit to him. His blue eyes look into yours and your heart stops it's beating for a second.

You hold his gaze and shift your position on the couch, your leg was already falling asleep since it was under you. "I-" he pauses and you can see his mind wondering, thinking, calculating. Sam was right, you could almost see the gears turning.

"Talk to me. I know you have something to say" you smirk.

"I guess that what I'm trying to say is, I am glad that you are with me in this mission even after everything-"

"Don't. Please…" you were sure he was going to bring up that one time where Sam, Steve and Natasha, as well as yourself, were attacked by him while trying to get a hold of Hydra. It was the first time you had seen him, you didn't know him, but you feared him. You are a mere human and he is a super soldier, the most dangerous soldier for the past years. He had tried to kill you back then one way or another, guns, knives, grenades, but somehow you survived.

Then you met him when Cap and Sam went after him, seeing him act like a normal person triggered something in you. How could someone like him turn into someone so dangerous? The time you spent watching after him, and fighting alongside the team had warmed your heart towards him to the point you admitted to yourself you caught feelings for him. How could you not? You were the only person to go to Wakanda to see him after he was freed, and it will be an understatement that you cried your eyes out when he told you the words. That was when the two of you started having a connection.

"You okay?" His voice echoes and you realize you had zoned out.

"Yeah. Sorry I was just thinking of…" he eyes you curiously, those steel blue eyes had you going weak. You inch closer and you feel him move, his head siding in a way that all you had to do was… "I'm so sorry for this, Buck-"

"What are you apolog-" and your lips muffle his words when you press them against his. You hated this. Losing your control the second you are alone with him. This wasn't right, but it felt unbelievably nice. His lips don't move, so to save yourself more embarrassment you pull away and duck your head to avoid his gaze, hoping that your hair is covering the redness of your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that…" you pull your hand away from under his, daring to look up at him. "We should go back to the-"

This time, he interrupts you. His flesh hand moving in a blur to the back of your head to bring you in for another kiss. His lips were rough on yours even when they parted slowly, but what did you expect? For him to be the womanizer Steve once told you he was? That now that he was free he would be kissing any girl? You let out a sigh of relief through your nostrils before pulling away.

"Did I do something wrong?" His eyes were soft with worry as he tried to meet yours.

"No. Gosh no" you bite your lip. "Don't apologize...I just lost myself there…" you giggle and he smiles weakly. You move forward again but stop, looking into his hues for approval before you lean in again slowly and his lips capture yours. He dares to part his lips and you tilt your head slightly, so does his, deepening the kiss only slightly.

"Y/N? Are you- Sweet Jesus!" Sam voices echoes through your ears and Bucky quickly pushes you away lightly, but enough to have you away from him.

"Sam. I-" You try to explain.

"Nuh-uh. I saw enough to know what was going on."

"Any leads?" Bucky asks, trying to divert the attention, standing up now.

"Sharon found him" Sam says. "Let's go, and no PDA while I'm around, okay?"

"When all of this is over-" Bucky starts as you two walk down the containers, Sam, Sharon and Zemo a few feet ahead.

"I shouldn't have done that" you insist. "My timing was off.."

"You make it sound like it was wrong when it wasn't" he pulls out his gun and so do you.

"It was" you nod your head as you walk. He reaches for your hand, looks at the group in front of you before he pulls you to the side behind a container, your body between the two.

"I have wanted what happened more than you know" he is soft in his words and his eyes divert to your lips for a moment. "I just...I have a past, Y/N..."

"A past you are free from now, Bucky" you point out. "You are not The Winter Soldier anymore. You have grown from that ever since Wakanda…" you assure him. "I'm not even asking you to accept it to start something because I know its way too soon-"

"You don't understand" he slowly backs away from you.

"You don't trust yourself entirely yet, do you?" His eyes avoiding your gaze made you frown. "I knew that this would have consequences. I'm going to talk to Zemo."

"Y/N, wait" he catches your arm as you turn and he brings you close. "We can't trust Zemo. You know that…" he says. "I am not sure how to explain it, but-"

That's when it hit you. "You don't want him to know we are each other's weakness…" you voice and his head nods slowly as he swallows.

"That's why we need to sort this out, but later, not during this…"

"Y/N?" Sam calls out and you frown.

"On it!" You whisper shout back.

"Be careful. I'll go in with Sam…You stay with Sharon…" he says and your head nods.

*****

"Walker I swear if you don't shut up I'll make you swallow that shield" your arms were crossed, leaning against the wall behind Bucky who was guarding the stairs. Zemo was cuffed, Sam was inside talking with Karli, Walker and Hoskins had found their way to you and now were here.

"Easy there. I'm just worried about your partner being in there by himself" he says and you notice the glare the Sargeant gives him.

"You have been messing this whole operation the moment you got here" you spat.

"Aren't you worried about Sam back there?"

"He can handle himself. He is doing what is right, unlike others" you eye him up and down and his whole face darkens, taking a step forward and you take a defiant one as well.

"Think carefully what you will do next, Walker" Bucky puts his hand on his chest.

"Let him. I can kick his ass and take that shield off his hands in a heartbeat…" you hiss.

"This is all easy for you, isn't it? All that serum rushin' through your veins. You let your partner in there with a Super Soldier, that blood will be on your hands if things get dirty in there…" Walker says to Bucky. How dare he!?

For a moment, you ponder on his words and you can't stand the thought of Sam being in there getting beaten by Super Soldiers while Walker could be right. You didn't want him to be. What if they took him? What if…?

"Buck…" you put your hand on his bicep and he looks at you, knowing very well what you wanted to do.

Of course, Walker wasn't very good with entrances since he literally waltzed in calling Karli and saying she was under arrest. Super Soldiers showed up everywhere and your eyes widened. Karli pushes Walker and then storms off running.

"Karli!" You call and look at Sam.

"Go! We got this!"

Your head nods, eyes shift to look at Bucky who was fighting a Super Soldier off before you storm to the direction Karli headed to. You see her walking down the corridor, not too far from you. "Karli, wait! This is not what it looks like!" Karli says and she stops in her tracks, looking back at you.

"It is exactly what it looks like! You are working for Captain America!"

"What? No! We hate the guy!" You admit bluntly, honesty can get you places after all, and at least she stopped. "We just want to work this out. There has to be a better way to fight for what you want, Karli…" you say and get closer.

"Yeah. There is...But first, you will help us deliver a message before we trust you again" your head tilts to the side curiously when you feel arms around you and you feel a pinch on your neck. Your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden until you can't hold them open any longer.

-Bucky's POV-

After fighting some of the Flag Smashers off he meets with Sam, Walker and Hoskins in the middle of the building.

"We lost them" Hoskins says as he looked around.

"You made us loose them! I had everything under control until you stepped in!" Sam complained.

"Where is Y/N?" Bucky asks as he looks around.

"She went after Karli. I haven't seen her since..." Sam says, his phone goes off and Bucky is quick to move close to him as he opens the message. "They got Y/N…" Sam's brown eyes shift to look at Bucky who was clenching his jaw yet his eyes showed how worried he was, and mad for letting you go after Karli alone.

"That's it." Bucky turns on his heels and started walking the other direction.

"Bucky!" Sam calls but it didn't get the man's attention. "Bucky!"

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME - 13 | n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of brutality described in previous chapter, mentions of strained breathing, curse words. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words : 4.5k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

 “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 12

taglist : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts  @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl--ankhaeji @simplybree @ncttboo @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner

In the silent room, the sound of taeil's shoes reverberated as he paced back and forth. Of the seventeen men standing in the living room, most had their heads hung low while some paid side glances to Jaehyun and ten as they fell prey to Taeil's anger.

"Last time!" Fingers pointed in the air, taeil asked in a dangerously calm voice, "don't make me repeat myself. Who left the door open?"

Messing his hair, jaehyun began,

"We didn’t know she was still there in the basement. Usually she’s out by-

“just answer me already.” Taeil shouted in exasperation.

“we don’t clearly remember. Me and ten were busy interrogating him.'' Jaehyun's voice was barely above a mumble but it still managed to reach everyone in the parameter.

Taeil turned to ten, furiously rubbing his forehead, impliedly asking for a reply but he merely shrugged in shame.

“Since when you have been butchering people with doors ajar for everyone to see?” the volume of his voice sent shivers to each and every presence in the room. Taeil never lost his calm, this was, after all, his metier. But he knew when to let go of his usual demeanor and nobody plucked up the courage to question him either.

“we didn’t do it deliberately. It was a mistake. An accident. Why are you drawing this so much.” jaehyun daren’t raise his voice above a whisper but his words were alarming enough

“You all need to recall the rules we stand by. What if jisung had gone down? Would you throw the same lame excuses even then? Won’t you be sorry if he or chenle or sungchan had seen a human being cut open like that? you and ten are both equ-

“we are ready to apologise to her okay. I’m not running from responsibility here. Nobody i-”

“Accepting a mistake is not even the bare minimum. We don't need your hollow apology if you don’t mean it. just because she’s understanding doesn’t mean the blood would leave her head. There’s a reason those rooms are forbidden for some of us here.”

Jaehyun’s unexpected raspy chuckle earned multiple gasps from the room. Taeyong was about to reach him but taeil stopped him by a show of his palm.

Jaehyun pinched his nose before barking,

“when jisung and chenle are told not to enter forbidden areas, they actually do listen but your pretty sweet y/n never does that. she’s just reaping the fruit of her own reckless behaviour again. it’s not my mistake that she’s so damn nosy all the –

“WHAT IF IT WAS NARA AND NOT Y/N JUNG JAEHYUN? WOULD YOU HAVE SPILLED SAME BULLSHIT IF IT WAS HER?

Taeil knew he shouldn’t have said that. Jaehyun’s darkened eyes calmed Taeil instantly as he realised he too had crossed a line.

as he angrily took a step forward towards taeil, jaehyun was abruptly halted by johnny and taeyong as they kept the two men apart. The reason for the argument left Jaehyun's mind, the mere mention of nara was enough to blow his fuse. He was furious yet he didn’t resist the boys and let his sharp breathing convey his message to taeil.

“Stop it you both. Go back to your rooms everyone.” Johnny announced, hands still holding Jaehyun's arm and torso, almost hugging and shielding him from taeil. “let it go jae. Just calm down. Please.”

Everyone remained glued to their feet, too afraid to make any noise. Huffing loudly, Jaehyun pushed Johnny away. Jaw clenched, chest heaving in rage, he furthered himself and instead of going for taeil’s neck as everyone has thought, his hand reached for the vase and the very next moment, the beautiful curved glass met the ground, shattering into innumerable pieces, right where taeil stood.

“JAEHYUN”

Taeyong roared watching younger and the older staring each other down.

“never compare nara to her.never!” With a perilously low voice, jaehyun glowered at taeil. “measure them up on the same scale again and you won’t be alive to regret again!”

Jaehyun stormed out upstairs. Soon after, without saying or expressing anything, taeil left too, masking his emotions just like usual times.

“when are they going to talk this out. It’s been three years already.” Johnny mumbled more to himself but everyone heard him and each and every presence in the room understood him.

Sleep despised you. Even sleeping pills had turned their back on you. Sprawled on the bed, you prayed to some magical being to descend and help you but no matter how humbly you pleaded, there was no end to your misery.

"He was a drug supplier, one of the accomplice of importing life threatening drugs in korea. He had it coming when he refused to tell us about other handlers. What you need to know is we have done a favour by taking his life."

Taeyong's words were seeded into your head. Your fear was fine, he had told you. He also said you’d forget about it in no time but he couldn’t mark when the “no time” would end. The vision of what you witnessed was quite blurry by now but the awful feeling in the pit of your stomach chose not to leave you yet. From what taeyong explained, that man was a mere pawn. A hidden syndicate was exporting deleterious drugs and they were just trying to find out the people behind it.

The only thing you had gathered was that just like every normal entity, criminals like neos weren’t fond of any sort of competition. With a pack of sleeping pills given by xiaojun, meant to help you sleep through the night, you were dropped at your house by dear Mark who kept stuttering explanations while driving. They have never killed anyone innocent, Mark said and kept it repeating in different possible ways a sentence could be transformed into.

You weren’t sure if you believed him yet. But even the mere thought of getting used to the brutality was horrendous than what you had seen once.

Two days later, at black neos. 9: 50

“when do you want us to sue them y/n?” mr. jung questioned, rotating his walking stick by the wooden head.

Sitting on the sofa, just beside him, you wondered why you were always so conscious of all the eyes directed at you. or maybe you were distracting yourself from answering the man. Among all the things, his way of showing his care was not settling in.

one amusing revelation was that Jaehyun's father, mr. jung or senior jung, as hyuck called them, was the only person with the capacity of putting a noose around all the valiant necks that were ever present in the house. The wrinkles of old age held enough authority to shut each and every young mouth, including yours even though you kept your quiet.

And he adored everyone, johnny, yuta and haechan among his favourites of course. He was also persistent and you were struggling with coming up with an answer because of this very trait. He kept asking you and your eyes remained transfixed on the papers bunched up in your hands, that were shoved into your hands upon your arrival. They opened the chapters you always had doubt about but no corroboration.

You had no home, the reason you were sent into that orphanage in the first place. The little kid that witnessed her parent’s death in front of her eyes didn’t understand why her parents took so long to wake up or why they never did when she waited for so long hiding among strangers or despite having a home, why she was sent to a place where she knew no one. There was no answer to why you never saw your uncle and aunt again and why they never came to take you back. As you grew up, you gave up on them. the car crash had crushed every relation you had with the home you once dearly loved and now you were conflicted with the new information that was thrown your way. your uncle and aunt were under illegal possession of the house that allegedly belonged to your father and after his demise, to you. but what would you gain by going back? Bricks and cement could never compensate or alleviate the pain that you had learned to live with. Even with law on your side, tormenting them would be of no benefit to you. So you said what you had decided years ago.

“I-I don’t want to sue them.” you replied meekly, eyes still fixated on the thread holding the legal papers together.

A sound of disapproval caught your ears as mr. jung spoke against your decision,

“no y/n. Those leeches abandoned you to rot in an orphanage and are living comfortably with insurances and the house that belongs to you. all that money could have been used for your future. You don’t need to be afraid of them. kun would provide you the finest lawyers and within two hearings, they would be in jail for committing fraud and trespass. And as a lawyer yourself, you should know better than to let them go off like this.”

Everybody heard but no one spoke.

“no.” you raised your head to face him and swallowed hard before continuing, “I do not want to meet them”

“don’t you want to go back there? that’s your home.” Somewhere from your left, Johnny spoke.

“never.” You refused immediately. “the people who live there were never my family. They never wanted me a part of their family. I’m clearly not their blood. The people who adopted me are not alive anymore. Those who loved me left me years ago. For a ridiculous sum of money, they didn’t even say their goodbyes to me. I was left there thinking that maybe one day someone would come. But money wins over love. It always does. And i don’t give a shit about them. I have learned to live on my own. I never needed their love. And I certainly don’t want more of their hatred.”

Inhaling sharply, you spat your speech in a single breath. Your words weren’t emotionless still you didn’t feel them like others did.

“I think we should bury this matter.” this time your voice was polite.

They nodded.

Mr. jung, however, wasn’t done.

“Okay so no one would mention this but keep these papers with you. you never know when this might come handy. After all, you are the sole owner of those properties your father left. Now you see, we grease the palms of officers so we can escape the shit we create for ourselves but people like your family are worse than the devil hi-

Multiple coughs halted his train of words. His breather was immediately fished out of his pocket and handed over to him. once he regained his senses, he begin again,

“never mind. Family must be protected y/n and those who fail to do so slaps the most precious value away from them. it’s not necessary that you should cherish something when it’s really out of your reach. at least i can die peacefully knowing that you all would settle down finally. If yuta can leave his chaser personality to find love, there’s hope for everyone here and speaking of yuta, when he’s arriving?”

“in two hours”

Your eyes widened and a hiccup escaped your throat. You voiced out a hum of surprise, gathering everyone’s attention.

“You weren’t told?”

You football sized eyeballs told mr. jung that you certainly weren’t aware.

“I guess I just spoiled a surprise then. Forgive me, I'm old and I am also hungry. Show some courtesy to your guests and feed me and y/n.”

Hyuck jabbed at him before they all got up to run for their seats in the dining room. “You are old. Why do you even need to eat anymore. Go to himalayas, eat snow and acquire some peace. That’s what old people should do!”

Everyone seemed too occupied with their bickering to pay you any mind so you dragged a reluctant taeil to his room, demanding answers for the latest drama they had launched in your name.

"I'm so sorry about that. The day after reception at the office, uncle suddenly asked about your family and that got me curious too so I ended up searching in deep and that led me to this whole discovery. I swear i never meant to breach your privacy y/n." Taeil pleaded in a low whisper as he locked the knob.

"Why would he do that though?"

"He's just too sensitive when it comes to families. He even told me to find your real parents but I got no luck there because you were adopted from an open adoption center from a different country. I found no information on them but I'm sorry about that." His ramble was again reduced to a murmur..

Playing with your fingers, you signed heavily before replying,

"Thank you for your effort but you should have asked me first.”

"Did you perhaps know anything about their schemes?"

"Right since I learnt about the adoption laws. I couldn't have been adopted without a security registered under my name. Maybe that property was the house where they are living right now"

"I'm sor-

"When were you going to tell me about that little whiny bitch? He's coming back in a few hours? I have to live with him again? " Scrunching up your nose in disgust, you bellowed.

"Yeah. He and taeyong had a long love chat yesterday. He was indeed being dramatic so i wonder what happened between them that he agreed. But he's coming back yeah. It was inevitable anyway. I don't know how you want to approach this but I'd say don't choose conflict. Eventually you have to live together so why try to break each other's necks. I've said this before and I'd say it again he-

"He's not that bad? I don't understand how easily you forget that I'm in this predicament because of that man. How can you expect me to make peace with that fucking piece of shit who had his gun pointed to my head since very first day?"

"Are we that insufferable?"

"Don't change the topic"

"I'm not changing it.You said predicament. We are also part of it right. Do you really hate us that much?"

Your eyes softened, reflecting his tone. No, they were just mildly bearable. And no, there wasn't any need to admit it either.

"Taeil, you sound like the voice of reason here. Taeyong seems fishy too but he's too unpredictable. He's like a chameleon. Others don't seem to have any power in your stupid hierarchy I've come to notice so it's you right? You are the one who told taeyong to marry me to that poopface and spare my life. It is definitely you.” staring him right in the eye, you pointed your forefinger at him.

"Please do me a favour and don’t use your brain too much y/n. I already have too much on my plate. I don’t need another one. If you don’t want our uncle to die due to a heart attack caused by your and yuta’s actions, stay shut. Now let’s eat before they gobble down everything.”

Our uncle! Yeah sure, you thought.

14:00

Standing alone in the kitchen, fidgeting with your hands, you tried your best to eavesdrop but nothing coherent met your ears. You indeed expected the army of men to have a party when their estranged soldier would arrive but the welcome outside sounded more like a hue and cry. The screaming indicated anything but happiness.

Your dilemma ended when you heard your name being called, the voice belonging to senior jung. You couldn't understand why he loved shouting when clearly his lungs couldn't take anything in higher volume.

Walking into the living room, you saw everyone seated in a very civilian manner but their conversation was difficult to hear amidst the babble.

“Come sit” Mark, who had gone to fetch yuta from the airport, spoke.

As you took the seat next to taeil, your eyes fell on the raven haired man and met his own. If his blonde hair shrieked peril, the black softened all the darkness his previous hair projected. Mayhaps, it was the black rimmed glasses he wore. You didn’t even know he had eyesight issues. He looked different.

He might have looked non-barbaric for a few seconds but his intense eye roll with the twitched lips upon meeting your eyes caused you to scowl. That’s when you noticed the elbow crutch on his left arm leaning against his outstretched leg. Nothing seemed wrong. You sized up his both legs with a crease of confusion forming on your forehead. You might have been looking too hard for your unasked doubt was answered by none other than yuta himself.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You scrunch your nose at the politeness that dripped from his lips, the honeyed words clearly in contrast from the uneasiness he felt while uttering them. Though the words were directed at you, he never regarded you directly and you weren’t sure how one was supposed to act in such a pretentious setting.

“No, definitely not a scratch.” Mr. Jung interrupted your internal unrest, interpreting your silence to be worry for the boy. “His left thigh is bandaged so it needs a lot of care. You might need to take some days off given how much movement hurt him. and you! I know you don’t want to worry her but lying around won’t work. she can’t tend to you unless she knows where you need care.”

He mildly instructed him as you found yourself staring at yuta’s brown cargo pants which hid whatever injury was being mentioned. The said words were dodged by your ears even before they’d have entered. The problem laid with the response that was expected of you. you couldn’t have possibly replied to him your true intentions that included ducking every wifey duties you were supposed to fulfil but like everyone else and as taeil had explained, you didn’t want the blood of an old man on your hands so you just played along.

“yes.”

That was enough for playing, you decided. Your quietness, for the first time won't be subjected to judgement as the dejection was expected.

“I think you both should go home now. I have some business to sort out here.” he got up and walked past you, not before petting your hair lovingly. He also smacked yuta on his head and mumbled something on the lines of how he should have enjoyed his last overseas trip and whatnot.

Once he, taeil and taeyong were out of sight, chatter started again. hovering over yuta, they dropped questions like he was in some interview and you remained seated, waiting for their next request they were possibly going to annoy you with.

“did you like france?”

“what the fuck! you didn’t tell me about the hair colour. Now I want to change mine too!” that was ten.

“why are you wearing pants if your thighs hurt?”

“I’m sorry for laughing at you earlier.”

Right when you thought you were specialising in drowning the sounds, Johnny's voice caused you to jerk your head towards them. Not the voice, maybe the question he asked!

“dude! Where did you exactly fall from? The room is on the ground floor and your work didn’t even require you to switch places. How can you break your leg while monitoring the local cells?”

Only two sentences were needed for the laughter to escape the confines of your stomach and the realisation that you actually thought about a bullet or a knife being the reason of the harm only elevated the amusement you felt. understandably, you became the center of their attention.

“who the fuck are you laughing at?” yuta sneered.

“you.”

The twisted bitter smirk on yuta's face told you that he still needed some good time getting used to your unfiltered tendencies but by the suppressed snickers that chenle and hyuck let out, their voices recognisable to you by now, you were sure at least a few of them were enjoying your jabs as much as you did.

"Fuck off." He finally barked, breaking the harsh eye contact.

"Happily!" You remarked, raising yourself from the cushioned seat.

"Where are you going y/n?" Intersected jungwoo.

"Home. Tell mr.jung that college called. It's Saturday so I've to visit the library anyway."

"Wait I'll drop you both."

Glaring at Johnny, you wordlessly challenged him to repeat what he said.

"Yes. You and him are not leaving alone. Uncle is still here. God forbid if he decides to stay the night, we won't have answers for him." He rather whispered to you.

"That sounds like a problem for you. My pact was over as soon as I saw that face. And I can guarantee you the feelings are more than mutual from that side too." Rolling your eyes towards yuta, you said.

"No no no! You can't do that yet!" Johnny came closer and continued his whispering, "please y/n. I promise he'd behave. Uncle did so much for you, can you help us this one last time? And yuta was returning anyway. If not today, then four days later. Please? You'd do that for me right?"

Sometime while talking, his fingers had found your hand and you weren't sure if he was aware of it or not.

But you were. And that had caused a little temperature problem in your whole body as you felt warmness enveloping your whole being.

And it seemed like your ears had stopped working too.

"Y/n! Are you hearing me?"

"Are you fine?"

His hand on your cheek broke your trance and your eyes darted away to look at his eyes, finding the same worry in them. Why was he so genuine, you thought.

"Are you sick?"

He questioned again, to which you only stuttered.

"No. I'm fine john. What were you saying though?"

"I said yuta needs to go back home. Please. He can't stay here even if we don't want him to be alone."

Somehow, you found yourself mindlessly nodding at his words. A cheeky contagious smile appeared on Johnny's lips, your own slightly curving on both sides. He backed away after caressing your face, the action more noticeable to others than he probably had intended.

"Let's get you home baby boy." Johnny snickered at yuta earning a slap from him.

"Fuck off bitch. At least feed me something before I leave. I'm hungry!" He screeched, hitting Johnny's leg with the end of his stick.

"What about the jjajangmyun you had in the car? How can you still be hungry?” Mark chirped up innocently.

"Oh come on. Don't make excuses.I'll bring some food in the evening." Johnny offered when yuta was busy giving a stink eye to mark.

"I too need some compensatory food john.”

“What the fuck do you mean compensatory? You live in that house because of me! Don’t imply yourself as the owner of that place!” you rolled your eyes for the nth time at yuta’s words, dismissing his words with the action.

“Why dont you donate your eyeballs to someone like me who can actually make better use of them. Instead of rolling them to the back all the time, I shall happily play tennis with them.”

“If my habits annoy you that much then why are you going back to breathe the same air as me. I’d be more than happy if i don't have to see your cursed face daily!”

“Stop you both.” Johnny's back shielded your view as he spoke. “He’s still here! Renjun, go and run a checkup for him and tell me how bad his leg is in actuality or is he just crying like a baby.”

In defeat, you sat down again. Fifteen minutes passed and despite being sleepy, you tried your best to listen to donghyuck’s ramble of something that jeno did the other day. All you heard was how jungwoo and jeno had a fight over piggyback rides and after that every word was transformed into a chant of word sleep as it hit your ears. Though it was early afternoon, the whole week had been nothing but tiring.

Once again your relaxation time was robbed off by none other than yuta. Maybe this was the end of your peaceful days.

Hopping off, you hurriedly whisked away before Johnny and Jungwoo could say anything to you. Two men were enough for towing the baggage.

As you stripped yourself off your jeans, an exhausted cackle left your lips when Johnny's words echoed in your head. During the car journey, he gave you some instructions in case of some emergency. That emergency being yuta! Not that you were going to put up with any of yuta’s demands, you listened to them anyway. Amusingly, yuta wasn't injured due to falling from stairs. He was getting drunk on the roof of a random building when he had launched himself into a sharp edge of a railing that gave him stitches all over his left thigh. Now he was as good as an exhausted car freshener.

As they settled him down, you didn’t bother going out even for a second. Choosing sleep over your much needed trip to the library, you tucked yourself into white sheets as the light breaths from air con lulled you to sleep.

17:00

Sitting in the library, your fountain pen ran along the plain pages like you were writing a well known story and not your thesis. The words were flowing like water and you felt no difficulty as you finished pages with the speed of light. Everything was going smoothly. You felt happy. And suddenly your hand stopped moving. It was glued to a single point, the nib leaking out on that spot. Next moment, your thoughts were muddled and a distant shuffling distracted you. The more you tried to move your wrist, the more forceful the noise became. Your breathing got heavier and your body jammed, the whole weight punching onto the weak muscles of the hand.

Your attempts never stopped but the noise did and it transformed into loud thumping coming right from your heart.

You tried to inhale but something stopped you.

Then you heard the calls of your name.

Rapid and loud.

Your body jerked forward and your breath finally returned as your eyes opened.

You had woken up from a dream. You were still in your room and the loud thumping was the loud banging on your door.

“y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.”

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing on your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

****

Stay safe everyone. 2021 is just 2020 with a change of pajamas😑wear your mask and force others too🌝

[fanficteen]

gone (1)

carlisle cullen x reader

The first time you met Carlisle, you’d been assuring him that the car hadn’t hit you, despite Bella and Edward’s adamance that it had, in fact, hit you. Bella had a concussion, you reasoned, she might not be remembering correctly. “My son saw the car hit you, Miss (L/N),” he had insisted, escorting you into an interview room. “And I saw your son stop the car with one hand,” you had retorted, folding your arms as he closed the door. “So why don’t we both pretend we didn’t see anything and go on our merry ways, Doctor?” You had made the mistake, then, of looking up and meeting his golden eyes, and immediately the world around you faded from existence. But then he was speaking again and you pushed that to the back of your mind, a problem for another time. “I don’t know what–“ “You remember La Push, don’t you, Doctor?” Realisation calmed his expression, and you had smiled, easily. “I think it’s in both of our best interests that we keep this between us, don’t you?”

It hadn’t been long after that when Bella had insisted on you accompanying herself to the Cullens’ for lunch. “Bella, no offence, but I don’t want to third-wheel the whole time.” “Carlisle was asking after you.” You were sure she knew something. Maybe not what you did, but something. “Please, (Y/N). You know you’re the only one I can invite.” You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. But if I have to watch you snog Edward more than twice, I’m leaving.” “No one says snog, (Y/N).” “Fuck you.”

After that, the next time you were invited to the Cullen house was by Carlisle.

“I’m a witch, not a wolf!” you argued, folding your arms. “I’m not built to be their enemy.” “We are! They’re murder machines (Y/N) and you’re dating their leader!” Jacob growled, furiously. “I can’t help who the universe picks as my soulmate!” “That’s enough!” Billy interrupted, before Jacob could answer. “(Y/N), I know you don’t have a say in this any more than one of us could choose our imprint, but you have to understand that they are dangerous. You’re only a young witch, you don’t have the centuries of knowledge and power that Cullen does.” “He wouldn’t hurt me,” you answered, stubbornly. “They don’t care about anyone except themselves,” Jacob snarled. “Remember that.”

Although they hadn’t said it, the door to the Black household, the place you had long considered home, became much harder for you to step through. In response, you had become a staple at the Cullen house, until a particularly unsuccessful baseball game.

“I need to see Bella.” He was going to deny you again, you knew that. “Charlie, please. He’s gone, I need to see her.” “I’m sorry, (Y/N). She’s not–“ He paused in closing the door as you threw your hand up to catch it. “Wait, who’s gone?” “The Cullens. They’re all – they’re gone.” Charlie’s face softened, slack with realisation. “He’s gone.” You dropped your hand from where you’d caught the door, and turned away, staring blankly into the night. “Why don’t you come in? I can’t promise Bella will come down but… you look like you could use a break.” “No thanks,” you muttered, vaguely, straightening your shoulders. “I should go.” “(Y/N), wait,” Charlie tried, but you ignored him. He stepped out into the rain, but you were already throwing your truck in reverse, leaving him staring out at an empty street. “What the hell is it about the Cullens?”

The house was empty, as it had been when you’d torn through it an hour ago. They hadn’t even locked the doors, the walls and surfaces still lined with invaluable art pieces that Carlisle had no doubt received as gifts or paid relative pittance for so long ago. They don’t care about anyone except themselves. Jacob’s words rang in your ears as you walked the empty path towards Carlisle’s office and stared up at his portrait, bitterly. “If the Volturi are the coldhearted ones,” you murmured, staring into the dull golden eyes of the oil painting, “What does that make you?” He wouldn’t hurt me. You could almost have laughed at the certainty with which you had said it. With which you would have said it until even just a few hours ago.

“(Y/N), I know they left the doors unlocked but it’s still trespassing,” Charlie sighed, for the third time in the months since Carlisle had left. Most nights he didn’t stop you, but every so often he’d show up. He never took you to the station, just escorted you out with those sad eyes and waited til your truck lights faded into the distance. You never responded to him, but tonight, there was something storming in your gut, a fire burning up your throat that even the icy rain wasn’t putting out. “Throw me in jail then,” you snapped, earning some short flash of surprise. “You know I’m not going to do that.” He bundled you into the passenger seat of his truck. He wasn’t even on duty tonight, he just knew he would find you here. By the time you’d registered the familiar roads, Charlie was already turning off the engine and dragging you out of the car. “You’re not serious,” you panicked, vainly pushing away from him. He held you firmly. “Just be glad it’s me dropping you off and not one of my officers,” he answered, but there was none of the severity in his voice that he usually reserved for delinquent kids. “You didn’t think he would start wondering where you were?” You lapsed back into sullen silence as he knocked on the door. A moment passed, and all you could hear was the creak of the wheelchair as the man who’d become your father approached the door. His eyes flicked from Charlie, to you, then he sighed and wheeled back, pulling the door wider open. The silence was heavy as you glared down at your feet. “What the hell did you do?” Jacob demanded, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape. “She’s not in trouble,” Charlie assured him, finally releasing your arm. “Just…keep an eye on her.”

Something shifted in you the next morning. Your magic came swirling back and so did your rage. If Carlisle didn’t want his soulmate, that was fine. He didn’t have to have you. You left school alone, watching Jacob hop into Bella’s truck with her, before heading east until the roads turned into goat tracks through the woods. You pocketed your car keys automatically, hand hovering over the send button on your phone for a long moment. You shook your head and pressed it before kicking off your shoes and shoving them onto the front seat, along with your jacket, leaving you just in a t-shirt. Your abandoned phone started ringing before you were even out of earshot, but you ignored it, continuing into the tree line.

[orangepurin45]

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫!! - 𝐂𝐨𝐩! 𝐈𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐗 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏.𝐭 1

WARNING: Guns, some Yanderish themes (Oikawa is protective of Bara-arms), Blood, Drug dealing delivery, 🔞triggering sexual content 🔞, Angst, Fluff?, Slight!IwaOi, Mentions of past humiliation & trauma (high-school bullying)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This is my first time writing btw. Happy Reading! if not the exit is over there 👉🚪.

Papers sprawled all over the desk, strings attached each other to another. A loud sip from the bulky man and a paper flip to side then eyes rose up to the photo of you grinning like a mischievous fox with red lips and taunting eyes screaming "CATCH ME IF YOU DARE," vibe Hajime grit his teeth glaring at your dirty face.

L/n Y/n, also know as the dark phoenix, Japan's most notorious drug dealing, homicide, and man-woman torturer and murderer in the whole country.

Everyone fears you.

Everyone obey at you.

Everyone believes you are the end.

Everything they think, you were responsible of all of this.

"Iwa-chan! Chief wants you to-..." Tooru spokes but was stopped by the sound of Iwaizumi's chair screech. He stood up, shadow loom under his gaze as he walks out the door.

"Wait! Iwa-chan I was supposed to...!

SLAM!

Inform you, " he finished, his lips turned downwards at the cold room, his chocolate eyes scanned every detail of the room then stopped to your portrait of your scary taunting face.

"Thanks a lot, Y/n-chan... But I didn't know you were into kind of... mess, " he smiles sadly, tracing his fingers at your photo. Lips tighten softly at the flashback, of yourself and the other 3rd years. How ironic to see your sweet, sweet smile in the memories compare to your now scary one.

"But I'm not letting you hurt Iwa-chan...That's a promise!,"

He points at your portait, eyes of determination and protection to swearing to blood to bone of himself not want his childhood friend be hurt. He turned away as long he lives

He will never let Hajime's life on the line.

Blood splatter, and small packet of white powder in the sachet all over the floor. Blowing your gun, hot steam coming out of the hole. Soft red lips upturned wickedly, your loyal subordinates gathers the small plastic packets inside the black bag.

"Bring it on the trunk immediately," You grinned as they nodded, immediately running towards your car.

Although, all happiness and rainbows has to ended when your car exploded and a familiar gunfire break a loose killing at off your men in sight.

"Oh dear... here we go again," You giggled then smirked, eyes delighted to see the man, who is obsessed of you being arrested.

How cute! 💕

"DARK PHOENIX!!!," Hajime yelled, eyes filled with fury and justice glaring at your calm figure. His teeth angrily clench pointing his gun at you.

"What a pleasant surprise!... I never thought you were such a party pooper, Iwaizumi-san! I'm absolutely...hurt," you pouted furrowing your brows playfully at him, to which he just flinch remembering a memory, looking down at the thought.

But you took this opportunity to snatched the gun off of his Iron grip by sitting on his shoulder then do some acrobatics before jumping off his broad shoulders then before jumping back then throw him on the ground with a headlock.

"You know it was all good~ back in the day! My mom always taught me to take care of what mess it was...And that was me she was talking about, "

He grunt, trying to wiggling his way out of your grasped but no avail the tightness is stronger than he expected.  You giggled when you heard him yelped.

“Let ME go this is instant! I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna rot in prison!,”

He shouted, throwing his saliva right at your face at each sentence he threat for you. But you only grinned, eyes in mischief and raising a brow at him.

“Oh please~ Cry me a river! Your the cop here aren’t you gonna do it but instead you’re just laying under me...shame on you Iwaizumi-san,” 

Silence  ... You saw how he looks down and saw sorrow at his face, seemingly remembers something, you hummed a growing smile on your soft lips.                 

“Ne, Iwazumi-san Do you remember the day Oikawa-san humiliate me?,”  

He snaps out his trace, then looks at you eyes as larger as the china wares.

“You didn’t help me back then, instead you let him do what he did to me,”

Rains started to pour, as the steaming car slowly deflates it’s flame little by little by an hours. Hajime’s heart dropped at the statement.

Yes, It’s true he did only watched.

 He just...didn’t know

He didn’t know what to do If he did help you back then.

Because of a certains rumors that you seduce your father, your uncle, other male students in any campus. That’s what Oikawa made up, He thought realising it.

You rejected Tooru because you view him as a brother only and nothing more.

“Isn’t because of Oikawa...was it?,”

“All of that wasn’t true SHUT UP!!,”

Unrealising you let him go and back yourself away from him, giving Hajime to sit up then slowly stood. He saw suprising seeing you hitting your head, slapping and punching your head. Snot and tears and all, pulling your hair out, heavily breathing then whimper and cries. Hajime was about to approach you giving the comfort you deserve, you  deserve long time ago that he was going to give if he helped you.

But being a fucked out mentally ill you are, Throwing your head back flash of lightning. Red eyes and nose all bloodshot. Wet Hair stuck on your face.

“FUCK THEM ALL FOR BEING NAIVE ASS BITCH THEY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!!,”

“Y/n I-,”

All of the sudden a hooded man engulf you in an embrace then took  you, jumping in each delivering cubes. But before he left, he shot Iwaizumi by the calf making him grunt then kneel down to hold where the shot is.

“IWA-CHAN!,”

Oikawa runs afront of him, and by anger he tried firing his bullet back at the hooded man but failed when he fired back to disarm him then fled at the scene.

“That bitch had company I see... Iwa-chan are you alright,”

After the rage diminished into concern laced tone, he pulled Iwaizumi up throwing his arm over his shoulder. Gazing in greater concern at him.

Or Love, so to speak.

“Everything will be all right, Iwa-chan I already called back-up,”

Hajime grunt, he unlatch himself off Oikawa suprise at the action he give, he stumbled and winced but he then glared at Oikawa.

His heart ache’d at the facial expression, shattering to him into pieces.

“Get off me I can take care of myself, I’m not some type of baby being taken care of,” He explains, he took a second to look where you feld and the hooded man went, A breath escape his lips and just stumble ahead.

when the back-up came, they help him guide back inside the ambulance.

“I told you I can take care of myself! Lay off!!,”

“Japan needed you Iwaizumi-san...So you’ll be needing our guidance for now,” The medic discipline and explains The Cop as he guided Hajime at the back of the ambulance.

He click his tongue before the paramedics lift him up in ease onto the ambulance.

Oikawa on the other hand, chocolate-colored eyes darkens at the moment of Hajime's pained expression when he taken the bullet that strike his calf.

And the sorrowfulness of his face when he was about to hug you.

His staring directly at your self-hate state as if he was that main guy at a certain love story, but a fucked up one.

He wanted to comfort you so badly that he might forget you'll stab him by the back. He grit his teeth, his knuckles turning white at point of view of your being.

But first he had to make sure you will be torture to hell where you belong.

"Oikawa-senpai! Is everything is going to be alright?"

A turnip head guy pops out, eye'ing in concern at the ambulance where Iwaizumi resides in, left the scene. Tooru took a deep breath, as he face his youngest colleague with that well-covered smile.

"It's alright! There's no need to worry! Cause' He will have the greatest care in the hospital... For awhile I think"

"Oikawa-senpai... Your palms are bleeding"

Kunimi pointed out, staring boredly at the fresh wound that have his blood run down his fingers to his knuckles.

He hadn't realise in mad anger, he clawed his palm so bad at the thought of you gonna ruining Iwaizumi's life.

"Ahhh! My hand slipped in the strawberry jam! My bad hehe"

(；^ 3^）✌️even though it was rather darker than the sweet jam itself, Kunimi could tell it was a lie. He could tell the deep nail marks on his palm and blood mixing under his nails too.

"Uh... Okay I guess..." He pretend to buy it, much of Oikawa's satisfaction.

"Okay back to work! We need to investigate this piece of shit of a burning car!" He grin happily as he skipped towards the steaming car, not caring about the rain pouring down.

Hope you rot in hell Y/n dearest or else one touch on Iwa-chan and you are gone he thought with a deep frown thinking about you makes Oikawa sick upon his stomach but hopefully that one day, you'll be captured and rot in jail.

Or maybe suffer in death sentence because of the multiple crimes you make.

Hope you suffer He thought with sadistic grin.

-End P. T 1-

That was not I expected, but judge all you want all because of the grammar I've been working is still under- construction and I've been using writing stuff like this because of a certain mental stability I've got... Not all that set aside. Thank y'all for reading don't forget to leave a heart or not because due to my ungrateful grammar that make you sick... I'm sorry about that and I apologies for being born... Is all

-orangepurin45

[smutandfluffohmy]

His Sweater #4

From: Smutandfluffohmy Pairings: George Weasley X Slytherin!Reader A/N:  How would y’all feel about George and the reader having a child?? (Not now, homeboy can’t even look at you much less take your pants off) Wait! Read it from the start (Part 1) Part 2? look no further (Part 2) The trilogy, but not really (Part 3)

Hanging on to George I tried to look anywhere but down or up. Where was there left to look? at the speeding trees passing us or perhaps Fred doing tricks on his broom? “Where are we going now?” I said clinging on the his shirt that I was sure going to be a wrinkly mess once we land.

“How about a drink and some food?” George yelled giving me a quick smile before looking back. Brooms the awful things, hypothetical I should learn how to ride one but the bloody things have no security.

“I’d l-” I smiled looking at him, Fred flew next to us interrupting me not even halfway.

“Merlin yes Hermione told me of this muggle place that’s in Diagon Alley.” Fred said flying under us, brilliant exotic muggle foods in Diagon Alley.

“Actually Y/n and I were thinking w-” George started saying and I frankly did not know what we were thinking as I for one was in fact I was wondering what food muggles ate.

Fred came back on the other side “Thinking about getting breakfast? Brilliant let’s go.” He said and I wondered what mental hoops he has his brain jump through to get to the conclusion of us wanting to eat breakfast at noon.

They landed the brooms in Diagon Alley that had a drastically different feel to it when it was not crowded by Hogwarts students. It all felt more grown up and I was starting to worry wee would get ratted out for being out of school. However we walked through the streets and sat down to eat without being thrown into Diagon Alley jail, I suspect that it had something to do with out frizzy hair and the twins towering over everyone.

Humming I looked over the menu, trying to figure out the odd names and what on earth was written down.‘hot dog’ blimey the muggles truly are ruthless if they serve up dog on a bun. Fred got up to go to the restroom and I for one was glad I could have some quiet without his excessive finger drumming which the worse part was that he didn't;t even play the drums.

George watched till Fred had disappeared behind the door before he even looked back at me. “You know I really meant what I said.” He said leaning in towards me, his forearms resting on the table top.

Leaning in I did the same “About marriage?” I questioned, while indeed a flattering offer I wouldn’t be too thrilled on getting marriage out of a business contract.

“No?” He mused, squinting at me as if it would further help him read my mind and with the look he was giving me I wondered for a second if he did in fact have that ability.

“Fred being a git?” I asked filling my head with bizarre thoughts to throw him off if he truly indeed was able to look into my mind.

“Yes but I mean about going out sometime.” He said, softer as if he were testing the waters to see my reaction. Perhaps I was wrong. He couldn’t read my thoughts.

I couldn’t help my face grow red at his suggestion. I guess this was what we were thinking on the ride over “Oh.” Was all I could say. After all how can you clearly answer when the guy you’ve been smitten with was a few inches away from you.

His eyes got big and frighten and his face drained of all color “If you don’t want to we don't have to I can go obliviate myself right now I-” He started going on, it’s something I learned about him. Whenever he gets particularly thrown off his mouth starts going speeds his brain can’t keep up with.

I reached over to gently pat his hand but by the way he reacted you would thought I reached over to strike him “George I ne-” I started to say, apparently interrupting people mid thought was a skill both twins were versed in. George started looking through his pockets and patting himself down.

“Merlin I can’t find my wand. Do you have your wand on you?” He said turning to me before rapidly looking away. I’ve seen him stunned but never to the point of obliviating himself, it was weird seeing the usually collected Weasley be so skittish.

“George calm d-”

He shook his head at me as if that were to make me disappear from were I sat. “I could always throw myself off my broom done it countless times what’s one more really.” He reasoned with himself, a skill I now knew he lacked greatly in.

Reaching over the table I clasped his hands down on the table “Merlin Weasley calm down I never said no.” I said looking at him wondering if perhaps I knocked my head a bit too hard and was now dreaming this all up. A peculiar dream but a dream none the less.

“Are you saying no now?” He looked at me trying to size me up, see if my eyes could give away the answer but I think if eyes held that much power I would’ve passed my O.W.L.S with much better marks.

“What? No! I’d love to go out sometime.”

“Alright that’s good. Swell indeed.” George gave me a tight smile but the color never returned to his face “I need to lie down I feel my heart about to explode.” He said and for a minute I wondered if I need to check his temperature and if I was even equipped to know the difference in a persons body temperature.

“I think it’s all the hash-browns you ate.” I said getting up from my seat to look at the state of him, I’d be real awful if I had accidentally killed him. He gave out a small laugh, not one that was earned but one that let me know that, at least for now, he was fine.

“George get off my seat.” Fred said swatting at his head and with that George sat up, noticeably more red but at least some of the color had returned to his face. “So what did I miss?”

George looked at the rather dull wall, in what I suspect that he suspect if he were to look at his brother he would know everything that happened in the time it took him to pee. “Nothing that concerns you Fredrick.” I said looking over the muggle menu for the tenth time waiting for the words to shift into something more comprehensible than ‘Coca-cola’.

Fred didn't believe us for a second and it was probably written all over our faces but how would I know. “Fine keep your secrets.” He said squinting his eyes at us before picking up and putting down the menu in front of him. “So how are we going to tell mum we dropped out?”

My blood ran cold at the thought that they had left out a vital plan out. Surving their mum, who I've heard various Weasley children say was rather scary, long enough to even set up shop.“You didn’t tell her?!”

George snapped out of his viewing of the rather bland wall “No figured we’d figure it out once we got to that part but” He said scratching below his eyebrow faking a deep thought that I knew he wasn’t capable of having.

“You complete our plans so well that we’re leaving it up to you.” Fred said airing fake responsibilities my way which I fake aired back to him rather aggressively.

“How generous.” I said with a tight lipped smile “I’m not doing it.” I shrugged leaning back on my chair and playing with a relatively loose button on my sweater.

Fred got quiet looking from George to me as if the answer to them living yet another day was encrypted there, somewhere. “You can snog George if you do it.” He said that made both George and I turn to look at each other with beat red faces, my hand tended making the button come off in my hand.

“Fred!” George said looking at his brother in utter disbelief and truly utter betrayal, I kicked Fred under the table wanting more than anything to melt into my seat.

He looked stunned as if he didn’t ruin out totally meticulous pinning we had come to perfect and that was all part of a bigger scheme and not at all because either of us were too scared to say anything.  “What! You’re both always drooling over each other anyways.”

I was at complete loss for words “I’m not going to do it even less.” I said trying to figure out what muggle song was playing if one at all.

“Ouch Georgie that hurt me a bit.” Fred laughed shoving George who I suspect also wished to kick Fred in the shins. Rubbing my temple I wondered if they left all working brain cells at Hogwarts or if they had fallen out on the broom ride over here.

“Hypothetically if I agreed to help you. I would say to have a clear thought out plan of how the shop is going to run, a layout, business transaction you’ve already done, some product-” I started speaking feeling myself get lost in the meticulously planning they had obviously neglected or perhaps just conveniently forgotten about.

Fred rapped his knuckles against the table giving me a smile. A smile George often has and despite having similar faces this smile fit differently on Fred. “I hear what you’re saying and I can’t wait for you to think that all over to show our mum. You’ll love her come on.” Fred smiled pushing out of his chair and making his way to the door, thrilled I didn’t have to eat any weird foods but disappointed at trying to figure out what exactly they were getting at.

Getting up I walked quickly to catch up with Fred “No you’re going to have to tell her yourself.” I said pulling Fred by the arm, knowing full well hell stroll out of here and force me to tell their mum as to why exactly they had already probably received a letter from Hogwarts.

“She is our mum.” George said shrugging behind me.

Fred looked over my head, a habit I wished they would both kick, to look at his brother in utter disbelief “Oi what’s this? Two against one isn’t fair.” Fred said pointing between the two of us giving me a look that if it were for not them doing the exact same thing to me I would feel utterly horrid.

“If we do it now we can catch her with Remus and Tonks, she won't come down at us that bad is she’s there.” George reasoned with him, an awful reasoning but a reasoning none the less. I don’t suspect our ex DADA Professor would back them up on their plan and although I did not know who Tonks was nor her character she must be really cool to back up their poorly thought out plan.

Fred huffed walking to get his broom“Fine whatever. Bloke is already whipped, what hope is there left.” he whispered, badly and rather loudly, I threw the button I had in my hand at his head “Ouch! I didn’t say anything.”

“I told him he’s shit at whispering.” I said rolling my eyes at the back at Fred’s head that he was rubbing. I know for a fact it didn’t hurt him, if he can tells bludgers to the head he’ll live with a brown button being thrown at it.

George bumped my shoulder “I think I owe you a snog.” he said laughing.

“Shut up.”

He walked in front of me stopping me in my tracks, he really was tall and for a second I wondered just how tall “How about that date?” he asked

“Let’s see if you’ll live long enough for that.” I laughed walking around him, I wonder if I could slip it into conversation or if that was just an incredibly rude thing to ask.

“You’re not coming with us?” He asked

“God no I don’t want your first impression your mum has of me is that I’m irresponsible.”

“But you are irresponsible!” Fred called out to me as he mounted on his broom, next time I see him I should give him a good wack with it.

I turned my attention away from George to throw a finger to Fred who promptly did the same “Shove off.” I called out to him, which earned me the disapproving glares from some elderly couple. Who I think would do the same if they were in my more fashionable and probably more gun powder smothered shoes.

“See you later?” George asked as he got on his own broom. Next time I’ll make sure to bring a portkey, at least you can’t swallow a whole colony of bugs in a portkey.

“Not if I see you first.” I said smiling walking the opposite direction of the seemingly dreadful scene that awaits them. They took on Umbridge and I’m more than sure that their mum is loads better than that woman. But I guess in all fairness he-who-shall-not-be-named is probably more agreeable than she is.

A couple days passed and George wrote to me saying that their mum was crossed they dropped out without them telling her. A sentiment that I think if they would’ve told her she’d probably nail their robes to the school. He also said Tonks was rather excited for them and that I simply must meet her. He also wrote that we should have our date at the end of the week at 10pm.

Knocking on the door I began to wonder if my outfit was even appropriate to were he was taking me. The door swung open before I could give more thought into my choice of clothes.

“Oh hello dear you must be the girl George has been telling us so much about!” Mrs. Weasley said taking me into a hug, she had the same vibrant red hair as all of her children and the same kind eyes George had. Fred however I reckoned stole his eyes from the bloody devil himself.

“I swear he talks about you whenever you’re not around.” Fred said making talking motions with his hands and fake gagging at the thought of it. As if he himself didn’t also spend most of his time talking to me.

“What? No I don't!” George said between varying shades of red, an accomplishment I would've found rather amusing if not for my own face heating up.

Thumbing could be heard of someone coming down the stairs “Fred hav- oh this must be the girl George talks about all the time.” Who I assumed to be Mr.Weasley said and further solidifying my theory on Freds eyes.

I smiled at both of them “Hi it’s very nice to meet you.”  I said sticking my hand out for a proper greeting before it got yanked by George.

“We should get going.” he said waving his family off, for a second I forgot that we were not sticking around. I had so many things I wanted to talk about like Mr.Weasleys muggle studies and if he knows how those miniature jukeboxes work and how Mrs.Weasley make the warmest sweaters.

“Bu-” Was all I could say, not only because I was cut off but because I did not know were or if I even had a formed thought to continue that sentence.

George said over me dragging me away “Bye don’t wait up!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Fred called out to him before earning a smack on the arm from Mrs.Weasley.

“What wouldn’t you do?” George shouted at him and I wondered what in fact wouldn't he do besides actually come up with a reasonable non-lethal plan.

“George Weasley remember what we talked about!” Mrs.Weasley called out to George was tugging at my arm to drag me to his broom faster.

“I remember!” he called out dismissing them with a wave. I do not know what they had talked about and wondered if this was a werewolf situation and if it was I don’t think I’m prepared to be turned or mauled into one. Although I don’t thing anyone is ever ready for that.

“It was nice meeting you Mrs. and Mr. Weasley!” I called out waving goodbye to them the best I could and I could only guess they were waving at me too.

“It was nice meeting you too dear!” Mrs. Weasley called to me, I hope I could get the chance to talk to her again. George hurried me on towards the broom without another looks back at his family.

“What was that about?” I questioned that I both did and did not want the answers to. If I was being turned into a werewolf I rather it being kept a fun surprise.

“Nothing. Close your eyes.”He said standing in front of me motioning me to sit on the broom which I in fact did not do. “You don’t trust me?”

In all reality I trusted him with my life, however I did not entirely trust him with my life on a broom “I trust that you won’t let me die but I reckon if I fall off the broom you won’t notice.” 

He smiled down at me placing his hands on my arms “I’ll notice before you hit the ground.”

“Charming.”

Crossing his heart he beckoned me to sit down “I swear I’ll take care of you.” He said and I swore I would melt as pathetic as that did sound.

Nodding I sat down and closed my eyes “Okay fine I’m trusting you on this.” I murmured. Time passed just like how kilometers passed but I could not entirely say just how many as I did promise to keep my eyes closed. George landed the broom with I took as cue that I could both open my eyes and I was in fact not dead. “Where are we?” I asked, the field around us was empty but filled with flowers and the spots that weren't were layered with grass. 

George tugged me towards an already set up spot with a blanket laid out and various other things set on top of it that I couldn’t exactly make out “If I tell you it won’t be as impressive.” He sat down on the blanket “Come sit.” He beckoned me over patting the spot next to him. We both laid down looking up at the stars, I’ve never seen them this bright and it made me a bit cross that if I knew they looked like this I would've payed more attention in class. 

George pointed up at the sky  “That star looks like you.” I moved closer to see which one he was pointing at. He got a jelly bean out of the box and ate one “Yack lawn clippings.” he said through some disgusted chewing then proceeded to offer me one.

I put it in my mouth cautiously chewing swearing that if I got a barf flavored one I’d personally have a word with the creators “Dead?Popcorn.” I said thankful it wasn’t awful but also confused as to how exactly they made a jelly bean taste of popcorn. He took out more jelly beans handing some over to me before putting one in his mouth.

He smiled at me and for the second time in my life I felt completely stricken by George Weasley “No radiant.Hot chocolate.” He said breaking my fleeting train of thought that had become increasingly harder to keep up with, with him around.

Shaking my head I couldn't help but feel embarrassed, a feeling I often felt around him but never this strong.Never enough to make me at loss for words. “You’re such a sap.” I laughed looking at the star he pointed at trying to commit it to memory, but it seemed the more I looked the more it looked like all the other stars.

“You make me one.” He said turning to me before eating another jelly bean “Cherry Fizz. What did you get?” He asked turning to me, propping myself up with one hand not particularly minding the rocks gently digging against my palm.

“Hmm I don’t know what are the flavors again?” I said reaching over to the box but before I could George grabbed my hand in his. His face was dangerously close to mine and I was overly aware of my breathing.

I leaned in closer trying to ignore the loud beating of my heart that I could feel through my body.His other hand cupped the side of my face that he caressed with his thumb. He broke the small distance his lips softly pressed against mine, he smelt of the outdoors and fireworks and I could feel myself getting lost in it.

His hand moved from my hand to my knee, the two being fairly closed together but feeling I got in the pit of my stomach made me lean into his touch. My hand rested on his arm, touching the sweater I made my familiar acquaintance with last year.

He broke the kiss giving me the same goofy smile I’ve seen plenty of times but for once I knew why “I think it’s butterbeer.” He said slightly out of breathe, my lip gloss was smeared all over his mouth and I suspect mine as well. What was that rule? No kissing on the first date? Whoever made that up has obviously never been star gazing with George Weasley.

What felt like minutes had passed before I could trust myself with my voice again. “You’re going to be the death of me Weasley.” I whispered, my heart felt tight and my palms were sweaty. I wanted to reach over and cup his face but I was afraid this moment will disappear if I made any movements out fo script.

It wasn’t till the end of the year did George, Fred and I hear the news about Sirius Blacks passing. Everyone blamed themselves swearing that if it they were just there ,a minute earlier, if they hadn’t stoped for that cup of coffee three days ago everything would be different, Sirius would still be alive. But I don’t think that the case, I think more of us or someone else might be dead if we were all there. Death is unpredictable and we are all just one wrong move away from it.

I do feel bad for Harry. Seeing your Godfather die in front of you must be an awful thing. I feel bad sometimes, smiling, especially smiling in front of him. I feel like I’m mocking him but I hope he knows that those aren’t my intentions.Hermione keeps saying that time will make things better but time hasn’t been feeling the same.

Time all together feels altered. Everything moves at speeds it’s not supposed to but I reckon that's the effect looming danger has on people. I cannot tell how long I’ve been dating George Weasley but it’s been long enough that I know he’s fond of sweets but only after 12, he thinks muggles know more than they’re letting on, pranks are better without a purpose and balls of yarn are great for baby quidditch.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Escape Part 3:

This is part 3 of the "Escape" post I wrote. @whump-a-la-mode wrote a wonderful part 2. Which is here. Part 1 is here.

Quick fornote, this is not edited. I may look it over eventually, but beaware of mistakes and incorrect grammar. Perhaps a lot of it. Also, my creativity levels right now are like a piece of dynamite going down a waterfall, exploding, and the particles being shipped to a rocket and then discarded into space to be later burnt up by the sun.

Warnings: blood, vomit, collared whumpee, confused whumpee, exhaustion, hospital setting, needles/syringes, restrained whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, soundproof room, torture (head trauma, broken bones, beating), talk of death, referring to one as trash, fake drugs

~

Hero woke with a start, immediately digging her fists in the familiar mattress. She vaguely felt an odd throb right below her ribcage. Hero thought hard. She didn't recently hurt herself. Unless, of course, she cracked a rib when Villain knocked her down in the elevator. That impudent, little-

Something shifted on her lap. Hero tensed before reaching above her to flick a light on.

The sight below her made her heart skip a beat. Villain was huddled against her, clutching onto her gray t-shirt with ferocity- however weak- as if he would die otherwise. Hmph, making the little ignorant chicken did whole-heartedly believe that her attire was the only way to alleviate his suffering.

But something was wrong. Villain's face was a pallette of blood, spit, vomit. He coughed and buried his face deeper into her stomach. Quizzically, Hero looked all over him. His hands looked like he just had a punching match the plaster- the broken plaster on the wall behind him confirmed that assumption.

"Villain," Hero breathed and ran her hand over his quivering back.

A strangled whimper was the only response.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, noting his cut up heel- he wasn't allowed laces, and refused to sleep in the velcro shoes that he was granted- and the blooming flower of a bruise that erupted in the center of his forehead. Not to mention the blood, all the creamy velvet blood...

"N-no," Villain stuttered finally.

"Then get off of me." Hero proceeded to push the villain away from her, but he already did the work, spiraling onto the ground with a thump.

"What the heck is wrong with you?" Hero asked, crouching next to her foe.

"Not wrong with me," Villaim mumured. Hero scoffed. Yeah, no, Villain was perfectly healthy. He wasn't covered in blood and puke, and he definitely wasn't shaking in exhaustion.

"Sure," Hero grinned sloppily and started to take in Villain's figure. He was obviously weakened, but he was still strong. Oh so strong. His biceps were flexed- actually his whole arm was flexed, but Hero knew it was more reflexive than a boyish show-off. Even his back moved around as he breathed, muscles contracting to their maximum strength. Hero knew that he would have abs under the sweaty shirt. A hum of approval, the Villain Containment Practice really did wonders.

Yet amidst the undeniable cords of muscles, the body in front of her was truly exhausted, starved, and dehydrated. Hero doubted he would be to move, especially with the hidden injury.

It hurt Hero to watch his hand tentatively brush the collar around his neck, but it stung when it flopped back down. Maybe taking away his breakfast privileges was too much.

And perhaps snatching away his lunch, but that was all. He still had dinner, and snacks-

No, those were also taken away. Cruelly erased from his schedule and replaced with more reps. More lessons, more lectures...

The villain groaned and tried to shuffle away as spontaneously aware that Hero was in his vicinity.

"Wha' ya gonna do?" Villain slurred. His dull eyes glanced over to the plastic cup. "Gimme," he whispered.

"Manners," Hero began to warn, but stopped. Chastising such a pale prisoner would do more bad than good. She could just imagine a relaspe. Villain was doing... mediocre, but not terrible. Though the only points he received were from the continous physical exercises he performed daily.

So Hero stood up, clenching her teeth as her rib flared up again, and sauntered over to the kitchenette. She grabbed a new cup and filled it up with city water. Hero scowled- she hated this water. Once she lived in the country... the change of taste in the water was one of a kind.

Hero returned with the cup and handed it to Villain, but he immediately dropped it. Water spilled everywhere. Hero could see his skin turn red and tears spike in his eyes.

"Aww come-" Hero began, but stopped when she noticed Villain turned his head into the crook of his elbow. Hero sighed and went back for another cup.

She returned and propped Villain's limp head up. She tilted it back and ran her thumb over his lips, gently prying the shriveled muscles open. Villain, however tired, tried to refuse, glaring daggers at Hero.

"Villain," Hero growled. Villain tensed, so Hero rubbed circles on his neck. Comfort was not her greatest gift, but Villain relaxed regardless.

"You wanted water earlier," she reminded him, putting the cup to his lips. After a brief moment of hesitation, Villain greedily opened his lips and started gulping the water down.

"Slow down," Hero very rudely removed the much wanted cup from Villain. "Time for you to go to the infirmary."

"No!" Villain yelled and tried to push away from his nemesis. They may run into Nosey. What if they tried to kill Hero again? Or worse, Villain?

-

The trek down to the infirmary was beyond slow. Even Villain in his groggy state recognized that. The corriders and dorms all blended together into one gigantic smoothie. They didn't matter, only not running into Nosey mattered.

Hero carried him in a bridal carry. Though lithe and slender, she was strong. Very strong. Villain realized this with a pang of fear. She could easily dominate him and hurt him.

Especially if she found out that Villain saved her.

When she found out. Villain could only physically make it non-lethal and take away the majority of her pain. It still would scar and be painful to an extent, but he saved her.

He saved her.

"Using your powers is never the answer," Villain mumbled to himself. "Call the heros..."

"What's that?" Hero asked.

Villain shut up, right then and there.

"Well, okay. Here we are," Hero pushed open the door to the infirmary with her foot. The smell of disinfectant and medicine hit Villain's nose, making him want to throw up all over again.

"Hero." A deep voice. Not Nosey. He was safe, for now.

"Doctor. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Why is his collar still on?"

"Safety. I don't know. He was collapsed on top of me and throwing up."

"Maybe food poisoning. Lay him on-"

"He hasn't eaten in days, Doc."

Villain felt knew hands tenderly dabbing around the collar.

"Do you have keys for this, Hero?"

"Yeah, back pocket. Here." Hero sat Villain on the ground, using her foot to keep him upright.

"Hero?" Villain slurred. His tongue was too thick, his brain too tired to completely make sense of the dire situation. He limply rested his head against his shoulder, closing his eyes.

Healing never was this taxing.

Villain felt his head fall back, so he jerked back upwards into a strangers arms.

"Hey, Villain," the same deep voice cooed, like a baritone. Deep and eneveloping.

"Villain." Hero was behind him, but Villain hardly recognized it. He felt like he was falling into a dark abyss.

"Bring him to a bed," the doctor ordered. Villain, whisked away from the comforting promise of sleep, was rushed back into the present. He jerked and cried out, fighting against the arms that held him.

He was going to be punished. Punished for his negligence. Punished for his powers.

"Villain," Hero snarled. Her voice was taut with exasperation. "We are trying to help you."

"No!" Villain cried out, breaking free of the hero and the doctor. Blindly he scrambled away, knocking over tables. Liquids spilled everywhere. Glass cut into his palms, but he didn't care. Not when he was going to be punished.

"Twenty more laps Villain."

"Add more weight, 200 pounds isn't enough."

"I don't care. Another sit-up. With weights."

"Seven minute plank. Let's go."

All Nosey's voices. The seagull that swooped down and took his strength away, leaving him a parched rasion with only enough food to keep his body minimally functioning.

He couldn't. He couldn't be punished. He helped, he helped. Yet, Villain couldn't convince himself that was indeed the truth.

Heros never cared about the truth. That was evident when they never took the time to remove him from this jail when he was innocent. Yes, he landed the homeless man in the hospital, but it was self-defense.

Villain plummeted into a skinny nurse, laying her flat on the ground with a bleeding head. Again, not his fault. She had a horrendous looking needle.

"Villain!" Hero called out and tackled him to the ground, pining him by the wrists and keeping his torso down with a well-placed knee.

Villain threw himself upwards, trying in desperation to remove himself from Hero's grasp.

"We are going to have to sedate you if you keep this up," Hero warned. Villain froze. He couldn't unwillingly go unconscious or he would never recover from the horrors inflicted upon him. Heck, he might never wake up. The creaks in his bones, the dull ache throughout his overexerted muscles, the incessant headache- they all reminded him of his predicament.

"There we go now." Hero removed her knee and scooped Villain up, laying him on a hard hospital bed.

The doctor came around, eyeing the Villain's hands.

"Please restrain him," the doctor said and quickly walked away to grab who knows what.

Hero took the liberty to roughly shove Villain's hands into cuffs. The cuffs surrounded his hand like Elsa's cuffs in the movie Frozen. They blocked any and all chances of escape.

Escape. The once motivating words was now a nightmare.

Hero then worked to place a leather strap around his throat. Villain didn't even notice that the previous collar was removed. Now looking through the mess he made, Villain saw the collar strewn on the ground.

Another strap was placed around his torso. Hero tightened it one notch too tight, pushing his abs in. Villain groaned and glared, but it lacked intent.

Finally his ankles were attached to the bed, each dangling off the side uncomfortably.

"Okay. Good," the doctor chuckled before reappearing at Villain's side. "Let's start the exam."

-

"You intolerable little butthead," Nosey drawled, tossing Villain into the white room like a piece of trash. "First off completely failing tests like a kindergartener; second, being a prat and faking injuries which just led to you being punished; and third? Well, that hospital trampede was really necessary, wasn't it?"

"And what are you gonna do?" Villain retorted. "Wave your little middle finger at me and yell all your stupid insults? Honestly, brainiac, you sound like a dying cat."

Of course, Villain did not say any of this. He just thought it, an undying wish that threatened to bounce off his tongue.

"No answer?" Nosey asked, leaning against an ivory wall. Villain wondered if it was once pure white, but all the blood spillage stained it.

Now that wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Nope," Villain replied, completely compliant.

"You know I love the little stunt you played with healing dear Miss Hero," Nosey stalked over to the villain. "But my employer does not."

Villain vividly remembered the way Nosey's face paled when they laid eyes on Hero. And then he also definitely remembered the way Nosey snarled at him- wild and feral, ready to maim and kill.

"Wanna know how much killing her depended on my livelihood? Heck, I would've made thousands and then be promoted to her position. My employer, Superhero, is now furious at me. Hero, that goody two shoes and her 'redeemed the villains' morals are quite old-schooled. Don't you think? We need a more... let's say modern approach to dealing with you monsters." Nosey's black pointed boot pressed against Villain's cheek before it slashed down with such force that it should've knocked Villain out.

But, stupid enhanced healing powers delegated by the doctor always made the promise of black bliss an impossibility.

But the enhancement was temporary. Just enough to replenish Villain's utter exhaustion.

Nosey's fingers grasped onto Villain next finding a perfect pressure point on his throat. Villain squealed, his neck was still bruised and tender from the collar.

"Do you want to know what it feels like to suffocate? Villain? Hmm?" Nosey spoke quickly, not even giving Villain a chance to shake- or nod, if Villain wanted to go that route- before they started to press right against Villain's trachea.

"Lack of air. Painfully at first, but the moment you black out. The moment that death is almost upon you is precious," Nosey spoke through clenched teeth as excitement and adrenaline overtook him. Villain, on the other hand, was overtaken by fear as he wiggled around like a frying worm.

Almost as suddenly as the hand was placed, it was removed. Villain blinked away the black blotches and took gulping breaths.

"Pathetic," Nosey growled and grabbed the back of Villain's neck, picking him up, and ramming him against the wall. An volcano of stars erupted in Villain's vision as the room tilted.

Nosey smacked him against the wall like that a couple more times before grabbing onto his wrist and stepping down. A crack and a scream echoed throughout the soundproof room like dynamite.

"Think you are done. Do you think that you are done!" Nosey laughed wickedly as they discarded the villain on the ground.

Then the beating took place. Kicks and rabbit chops battered Villain's body until he couldn't even move to defend himself. Unconsciousness loomed at his vision, but each new flare of pain brought him back to the waking world.

His broken arm loosely hung, a bone popping out of the skin, as his body convulsed. But Nosey wasn't done. No, they went over to the wall and grabbed a wooden bat and began to hit Villain until his ribs began to break. One crack after the other, after the other-

Nosey flopped down on the ground next to Villain, carefully cradling their own head with their left hand as their right picked Villain's up.

"Do you see that window Villain?" Nosey asked. "It leads right out into the city. We are even on the first story. An easy escape if you weren't so weak." Nosey wrapped their arm around Villain's heaving shoulders in a brotherly fashion. "But that's okay. You can stay with me," Nosey chuckled and grabbed Villain's chin, prying his mouth open. The villain gurgled and spat in response, but allowed Nosey to keep him in that hold.

Nosey reached into their back pocket and revealed a syringe.

"Power suppressant. Don't worry, I know your weakness. Can't be drugged or you will die. Blah blah blah. Hero's mind reading powers are good for one thing at least. But this-" Nosey stroked the clear syringe and whistled. "-is a masterpiece."

Villain tried to remove his throbbing head, but Nosey's grib was too strong.

"Can't have you dying on me when we are having so much fun," Nosey wrapped Villain into a close hug as they plunged the needle into his neck.

"Enjoy your stay," Nosey chuckled before leaving the room.

Before leaving Villain, alone and in pain, to deal with himself.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - I’ll find my way to you(1)

Did I watch Far From Home and decided to write about it instead of doing responsable things? Of course. This will be a little different to what you’re used to do, becuase I’ll follow the movie and dialogues mostly, only that reader is the romantic interest instead of MJ. Hope you enjoy it, I’m really excited for this series!

If Tumblr fucks this fic up and doesn’t show the tags I’m suing them

Plot: Peter Parker couldn’t be more excited for the trip. It wasn’t only the best vacation he could dream of - I mean, Europe? Cool - but they also gave him the chance to spend more time with you, his new found crush that makes him stutter and blush. He should have known that something would get in the way.

-

Spider Man far from home featuring Peter Parker as a clueless, cute baby and reader, who is Bucky Barnes’ daughter and as badass as her father.

Warnings: far from home spoilers - but come on, you’ve seen it.

“I have a plan”

Peter all but fell on the chair, dropping his bag on the ground and making a few classmates look his way. He had just ran through the hallways, nearly colliding with a few people in his way. But if he wanted to talk to Ned before the class started, and the rest of the students came in, he had to be quick. Flash was talking about how the teacher had to grab some books from the library before starting the lesson, and he had took his chance; because lately, finding Ned alone was something weird.

Said boy looked at his friend with raised eyebrows, and put his notebook away. He had been making a list about the best ways to impress an European girl, something he didn’t want to forget. Ned was determinated to meet some pretty girl and impress them with his American accent; Peter had a hard time believing that, but he didn’t dare to break his hopes.

Before talking, he made sure there was no one around who could listen to their conversation.

“Okay, first. I’m gonna sit next to Y/N on the flight” Peter rushed his words out, and Ned hummed. “Second, I’m gonna buy a duple headphone adapter and watch movies with her, the whole time”

“Right” Ned nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as Peter kept talking.

“Three, when we go to Venice – Venice is super famous for making stuff out of glass, right?”

“True”

“So I’m gonna buy her a bright read star necklace, cause her favourite colour is red” Peter shrugged, moving his hands around. “And because of, well”

“It reminds her of her father, a worldwide recognised assassin but also the man who lives five blocks away from your apartment” Ned completed. “Didn’t he drive you to the last decathlon competition?”

“Yeah, her father” Peter nodded, not even blinking at Ned’s words. “Four. When we get to Paris, I’m gonna get her to the top of the Eiffel tower, give her the necklace, and then five, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. And then six hopefully she tells me… she feels the same way”

“Oh, don’t forget step seven” Ned crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Peter missed the sarcastic remark as he reached again for his notebook, where he had written down all the steps. “Don’t do any of that”

Brown, tired eyes met Ned, and the boy felt bad for about a second. It was obvious that Peter had been having a hard time in the last months; Tony’s death, the feeling of being on borrowed time because of the ‘blip’, and the pressure of being Spiderman in a world who needed superheroes more than ever. He could count with the fingers of one hand how many hours of good sleep he had gotten that week, and they were on Wednesday. Besides, he was also stressing with the stupid plan with the steps, and the final trip to Europe.

May had had the idea of writing down the steps. He had come to her – after Ned proved to be useless for it and Happy refused to talk about girls – when he had realized he had feelings for someone. Not just someone, but one of his new friends who shared with him more than just a friendship. Y/N Barnes, friend and work-colleague, talking about avengers. And of course, crush.

“Why” he sighed, not even asking. He thought of himself as a balloon that had just been poked with a sharp needle, and was slowly deflating.

“Because we’re gonna be bachelors in Europe, Peter!” Ned said, his voice too similar to a whine.

“Ned…”

“Look, I may not know much, but I do know this” he nodded at his friend to make sure he was still listening. “Europeans love Americans”

“Really?” Peter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, knowing that probably Europeans didn’t really care about them. If he was European, he would sure not give a damn about America.

“And more than half of them are women!”

“Okay, sure. But… I really like Y/N” he gave him a tight smile. “She’s awesome. She’s super funny in a kind of a dark way. And sometimes I catch her looking at me and I feel like I’m – She’s coming – don’t say anything!”

Ned looked to his right, and indeed, another person walked in class. Betty waved from the door at you and you gave her a small smile, still not used to her and having so many teenage attention to yourself. Still, you made an effort and contributed to some of her conversations, although most of them were monologues. Again, that feeling that Ned had had about being wrong just moments ago came back when you looked at them and lighted up at the sight of Peter.

Not a lot of people noticed, but you were nothing like your father. The stereotype of a bad mean soldier died when someone talked with you for a few minutes. You were shy, liked puppies and colour pink, and even if your jokes sometimes crossed the line of personal baggage and were a little too dark, you were funny.

You clutched the big sketchbook to your chest and skipped towards your friends. Peter kicked Ned softly under the desk to avoid him saying anything about the plan, and Ned just chuckled awkwardly.

“Hi” you smiled at them, dimples on your cheeks that made Peter mess with the pen on the desk. “Excited about the trip?

“Hey. Uh, yeah” Peter tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring at you, so he looked at Ned. “We’re just – talking about the trip”

“Yeah, and Peter’s plan”

“You have a plan?” you raised your eyebrows, and Peter felt himself stopping breathing for a moment.

“I-I don’t… I d-don’t have plan”

“He’s just gonna collect tiny spoons while we’re traveling through all the countries”

The wink that he sent his friend wasn’t at all discreet, because to do so Ned moved all his face along with his left eye. Peter didn’t feel any better with the answer, if anything it made him feel a small pressure on his chest. He turned the pen around his fingers as he looked at you again, who thankfully, looked unsuspicious. In times like that he was grateful that you still hadn’t caught everything about the sarcasm and indirect intentions.

But even you, who spent more than half of your life locked in a cell and used as leverage for the winter soldier, knew that it was something weird to do. So you hummed and made a small grimace.

“Like a – like a grandmother?”

“I’m not collecting tiny spoons” he scoffed, pointing with the pen at Ned. “He’s collecting tiny spoons”

“Oh. Okay. Well… that was… a real rollercoaster”

Peter’s eyes drifted to your wrist as you moved your hands around, and his previous mood fell like a ton of bricks. He knew he should be thankful that you were allowed to come with them to Europe, since your father wasn’t welcomed in at least half of the countries. Thick, black bracelets fell on your wrist, a huge contrast to your delicate skin. They had a small red light that was always on, unless you broke one of the rules Thaddeus Ross had set.

He had been there when the secretary forbid you to leave the country, using words as ‘freak’ and ‘danger’. Between your father, Sam and a little bit of help of Pepper Potts, he had agreed as long as you carried the bracelets. Peter himself had threatened to go and talk to him too, rambling and speeding across the walls and ceilings as he traumatised May. But then, you had asked him to stay put, and he could never say no to you.

Peter bit his lip and tried to hide his discomfort at seeing your wrists. You had to endure enough from the rest of the classmates, and he would hate himself if you dropped that smile.

“By the way, my dad gave me some stuff for you” you changed the topic, digging into your backpack for something. A metal, clanking noise came from inside. “Told me you should have it since I’m not even allowed to cut an apple if I want to stay out of jail. In case something happen”

“What – don’t!”

Peter jumped out of his seat and pushed your hand back into the bag, careful of the sharp edges. He was too busy pushing the knives back into the bag to notice how your hands touched for more than one second, or to admire how your cheeks turned pink and you eyes went wide. You were so close that he could smell your vanilla scent, and you could see the wrinkles of his sweater’s neck.

The whole class seemed to disappear around as he finally noticed what he had done. Peter was always careful of not being too close to you, in case you could get overwhelmed – like in your first day of highschool – or feel uncomfortable. His own cheeks went red, and the tips of his ears started to burn. He pulled his hand out of your bag so quick that he got a scratch on his palm; not that he cared, as he jumped back to his seat and almost fell out of the chair.

“Did you bring knives to class?” Ned squealed out. A girl nearby had noticed, but she chose to turn away.

“Well, not knives” you tried to explain. “They are like – uh – daggers? Throwing daggers. Dad got them from internet, and some of them have dents so that when you stab someone –“

“Okay, class! I’m here!” the teacher cut your conversation, and a flow of students filled the class.

You quickly ran to your place at the back, besides another boy your age, and Peter tried to follow you as you moved. He could have sworn that you smiled when you passed his side, but he wanted it so bad to be true that he could have imagined it. Most of the times he thought you were looking at him in class, and when he looked at you, there was nothing to see. Sure, you liked to sit beside him at lunch time, and never turned down an awkward proposal for a “date” with Peter, although he was the only one calling them that, as nothing ever happened.

Still, he allowed himself a sweet second of happiness as he watched you greet your classmate and pull down your sketchbook.

“Dude” Ned chuckled behind him, and Peter stared with amused eyes. “I think that went really great”

-

“Yo, Parker”

Peter turned around and saw Flash calling him from the other side of the plane. He was sitting on the closest side of the window, but even from there he could see the boy’s smug smirk. So far, the whole ‘getting into the plane and not having any problem’ was going good. He had his headphone adapter on his right hand, and was preparing himself to tell Ned to change places with MJ and let him sit with you. The rest of the class seemed fine too, and he was enjoying the trip so far.

But of course not a lot of things in his life went right, and he felt his mood lower down a bit when Flash called him. He fidgeted with the adapter on his hands and nodded at him.

“This is called an airplane” Flash said, and to Peter utter mortification, you stopped right beside his seat to look at Flash. “It’s like the busses you’re used to, except they fly over the poor neighbours instead of driving through them”

“Madam?” a kind looking woman appeared beside Flash and looked at you, smiling. “He blipped, so technically he’s sixteen, not twenty one”

“I’ll take that”

“No – no she’s – s-she’s lying! I don’t even –“

Flash trailed behind the woman as he tried to take back the drink, giving you the nastiest look he could manage. Which wasn’t too big, as he was mostly embarrassed.

When you had first arrived to Midtown, two years ago after you father went to Wakanda and Tony – as a favour to Steve, who was like you uncle – let you stay with him and attend highschool, Flash thought you were pretty. He followed you everywhere you went, tried to win you over with the stupidest and most expensive details about his life and invited you to every party. Then, he noticed that you ignored him in favour of staying with Peter, who you had met in that airport fight. And from that moment, he liked to pretend he hadn’t liked you at all.

Once he was gone, you looked at Peter and gave him a small, shy smile. He smiled back, his face melting at the sight of you. He almost dropped the headphone adapter as he watched past by, if it wasn’t for Ned catching it in the last second.

“Classic of Y/N, right?” Brad Davis appeared out of thin air, following you into the airplane and making Peter drop his smile.

“Did you know Brad was coming?” he asked Ned once the boy was out; although he didn’t stop looking at him.

“It’s… so weird” Ned chuckled, looking at Brad too. “Like, one day he’s a little kid that cried and got nosebleeds all the time, and suddenly we blip back and he’s totally ripped and super nice. And all this girls are after him”

“Not all the girls are after him”

“No man, they’re all after him”

Peter felt a sudden weight on his chest that he couldn’t describe. Brad was helping you to put your handbag on the top part of the plane, apparently saying something funny; really funny, because you weren’t using that fake smile you put when you didn’t get what was funny or what people were talking about. The sound of your laugh usually made his stomach flutter, but that time it made him feel sick. He knew he was selfish for thinking that way – you were allowed to have friends, to be interested in someone, and to like Brad.

But he didn’t know all of that, it was just you laughing with Brad. He was so busy drowning in his own feelings that he missed how you looked at him once more before sitting beside MJ.

“Anyway” Ned went back to his bag, taking out his computer. “Onto more important things, it’s an nine hour flight. We play beast slayers the whole time”

“I need your help sitting next to Y/N” Peter blurted out, finally tearing his eyes away from Brad.

“Seriously?” Ned sighed. He left his computer on the desk and tried to look miserable to Peter, who was too busy already tearing his seatbelt away.

“Yes, seriously”

“What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe?”

“That’s your plan. That’s a solo plan. Come on, this is my plan” Peter tried to remember how May told him that he could get almost anything with those puppy eyes, so he put them on for Ned; who couldn’t be more unbothered by them. But Peter really, really wanted to sit with you. “Please”

Ned threw his head back and scoffed, leaving the computer back on the bag and tugging at his own seatbelt. Maybe the puppy eyes didn’t work with him, but Peter was glad to have such a good friend.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Ties That Bind Us - Part 5

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail?  Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old.  The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do.  But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests.  I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2328

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE PART FOUR

My toes had been resting in the sand, fully submerged in the ocean saltwater, for hours. The chair I lounged in had sunk to the point that my seat was resting on the sand and was just beginning to cover the side rails. I could feel the warming rays of the sun on my skin, and I basked in the comfort of my parents sitting on either side of me.  

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and lazily dragging my fingertips over the surface of the water. I planted my feet and began pushing myself up to a standing position. Having been sitting so close to the ground, it took no shortage of effort to get myself upright.  

“So, what’s it gonna be, baby girl?” My father questioned me from his seat in the sand. Running my hands through my salt-air blown hair, I took a deep breath.  

“I don’t know.”  Looking out over the water, I crossed my arms over myself, hugging my elbows. I looked over at my mother, her ever-smiling face looking up at me.  

“They’ll be here before you know it,” she said soothingly. I scrunched my eyebrows together quizzically, confused once more. “The boys. The Winchester’s.”  Her answer was matter of fact. I hadn’t considered them, having been too elated to immerse myself in the bubble of happiness and relief that was my family being given back to me.  

“Dean,” I whispered, drawing my eyes back out to the water as the pit of my stomach dropped out.  

I heard my father chuckling behind me. “That boy’s a good nut. A little marred on the outside, mind you, and completely oblivious at that. But he’s a good nut.”  My arms loosened and I felt my shoulders relax as I allowed myself a laugh.  

“He really is.”  My words were tinged with a hint of sadness. I could picture his face. The panic that was etched into it, his wide green eyes staring at me, pleadingly, assuring me that I was going to be fine. 

“Hummingbird,” my mother’s voice pulled me from my thoughts of him. “I’ve known you for your entire life. From the first fluttering of your feet in my belly, and every second since. I’ve seen you grow into this beautiful woman, inside and out. But honey,” she paused briefly, taking a breath. “I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you’re with that boy.”   

Her kind eyes seemed to be able to see right through me and directly into my heart, if not my soul.  

“But mom,” I whined. “I just got you back.” She reached out and held her hand open, gesturing for mine. I placed my hand gingerly into hers, feeling the prickling of tears coming to my eyes.  

“I know, Y/N. I know. But you’ll never lose us.”  She looked over at my father, her smile growing. “We’re always with you. And we’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”   

I knelt into the wet sand in front of her, the waves lapping at my legs as my jeans quickly soaked through. “What if I want to stay?”  

“Then you stay. But it’s up to you, baby girl,” my father answered nonchalantly.  

“I think I’ll just go for a walk. Clear my head a little, okay?”   

They both nodded back to me in response, as I began walking down the beach, my bare feet pressing into the sand with every step.  

“Trap a reaper?  Dean, are you insane?”  Sam was yelling, his voice full of incredulity.  

Dean gave no answer, just stared at his brother expectantly.  

“No, Dean, this is crazy. We aren’t doing this!”   

Dean stepped quickly over to his brother, gathering the front of his shirt in his fists as he pushed Sam against the wall behind him violently.  

“Insane?” Dean’s voice was shaky and manic. “This is what we do, Sam!”   

“No,” Sam responded calmly. “It’s what we’ve always done, and it never ends well.”  He kept an even keel, ignoring the rage and sadness that were circling within him. He understood his brother’s actions but didn’t want to encourage them if he could help it.  

“It ends with our family together, Sam. That’s all that matters here!”  Dean’s fingers relaxed as he released his grip on Sam’s shirt and took a step back.  

Sam’s face dropped. “Y/N wouldn’t want this, and you know it.” 

“Well, she’s not here, is she?”  Dean’s yelling attracted the attention of the nurse that had been sitting at the computer at her station. She looked up at them with judgmental eyes. “Sir!” Her voice rang out with authority.  

“Sorry,” Dean answered, calming his voice down slightly but not breaking his eye contact with Sam.  

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down. “I’ll do it alone,” Dean stated softly. He grabbed the bag that he had set down on the chairs and stormed down the hall. Ducking into the first bathroom that he could find, he closed the door behind him, quickly throwing the lock.  

It didn’t take him long to get everything set up. Trap symbol painted, crucifix in the bottom of the mortar, ore, hemlock, what else?  What am I missing?  Dean went through the recipe in his head making sure he had everything just right. Finally, he dragged the blade of his pocketknife across his left palm, letting his blood begin to drip into the concoction as he threw a lit match down into it.  

“O theris tes, caleo se cai deo.”  He chanted the incantation and held his breath, praying that he’d done everything correctly.  

“Really, Winchester?  You’re summoning us into a washroom now?”  The reaper who Dean recognized as Jessica was indignant. “What is it this time?”  She threw her hands up in the air, disgusted, and attempted to walk away from him. Her foot faltered, hitting the edge of the symbol he had painted on the floor.  

“You have got to be kidding me!” Her irritation was tangible.  

“Not quite,” Dean answered with just a hint of casual jest. “I need your help.” 

“You usually do.”  Jessica was full of indignation. “What is it this time?  Running from some big bad?  Need to take a stroll through the land of the dead?  What could it possibly be now?”  Her anger was blazing, and though he would never admit it, Dean found himself intimidated by the reaper.  

“Y/N,” Dean said by way of explanation. But the reaper gave no response, simply shrugged her shoulder and lifted her palms to the ceiling.  

“What about her?”   

“I need you to bring her back. Work a miracle, pull her back from hell, I don’t care.”  He swallowed, his throat closing with pent up emotion. “Whatever it takes to bring her back. Just do it.” 

“There’s always a price, Dean.”  Her amusement was clear, both in her speech and body language, as she was now standing with one foot to the side, propping her right hip higher than the other as she stroked her chin.  

“Name it. I’ll pay it.”  His caramel-apple eyes began to tear as he struggled to hold them back. 

“Oh Dean, Dean, Dean. Always so willing to die for those you love.”  Jessica smiled, a devilishly delighted grin.  

“We have a deal or not?”  His gravelly voice enunciated his seriousness.  

“I haven’t even told you what I would require,” she droned. “Have some patience,” she spat at him in staccato as her grim smile quickly fell into a severe and intense glare.  

“I told you to name it, I don’t care. Just tell me what you want!”  

She hesitated, lightly pacing across the two or three feet that she had been granted. Suddenly, she stopped in the center of the mark, her head snapping up to Dean and that same devilish grin slowly drawing itself across her face.  

“What?”  Dean’s demand was loud, hoping to show her the urgency of the matter.  

“Nothing,” she said, succinctly and sweetly, her arms crossed in front of her.  

“Nothing?  You’re saying you want nothing in return?  What’s the catch?”  

“Call it a get out of jail free card, Dean.” 

He looked at her incredulously. “I don’t get it, why would you do it for nothing?” 

“Because you, Dean Winchester, will be in my debt. And I will hold that debt until it is paid in full. You can count on it. But for now,” She held her hands up, opening up her fingers as if demonstrating their emptiness. “For now, I want nothing. But you will come when I call,” she looked down at the trap before making eye contact with him again. “And I will call.”   

Dean paused, considering the offer and turning it over in his mind. “Done.”   

There was a knock at the door, startling Dean momentarily. “In a minute,” he yelled, waving the would-be-intruder off.  

“We have a deal, then?”  

Dean nodded in response, leaning down and scraping away the edge of the painted symbol. By the time he stood back up, Jessica was gone. He could only hope she would make good on it.  

I walked down the beach, enjoying the feel of the warm sand between my toes and the water lapping at my feet. But internally, my mind raced. Getting my parents back was life changing. Or I guess, afterlife changing. I hadn’t seen then in decades, and yet being with them felt so natural. As if no time had passed at all. Each time my mother called me Hummingbird, the nickname I’d had since I was just kicking her bladder around in-utero, my heart soared. Each grunt or chuckle from my father sent delight through me. And yet, I felt as though I was in an impossible situation.  

The Winchester’s were there. Undoubtedly working through the job, or on their way to another. Could I leave them?  Could I really be truly happy knowing that I may never see them again?  May never see Dean again? The thought brought a sob from my mouth as I moved my hand up, running my fingers over my mouth.  

A seagull flew past me, cawing as it went, drawing my attention back behind me. I had walked farther than I had realized.  I could just make out my parents as they sat in their chairs, their silhouettes small and distant. Taking a moment, I faced the ocean again, feeling the slow drag as my feet sank into the sand more with each caress of the water. I could remember my mother taking me to beaches as a child. We would both sink, giggling at the loud smacking sounds that were created when we pulled our feet out.  

Smiling to myself, I looked back over towards my family and began walking again. But out of seemingly nowhere, my path was impeded by a person. A woman with long red hair and defined cheekbones stared at me, her face unreadable, wearing a long black trench coat.  

“Let’s go,” she said, matter-of-factly as she pulled her black gloves off her hands, one finger at a time.  

“What?”  I shook my head, confused.  

Her deep sigh did nothing to endear her to you, let alone to explain who she was. “You’re not the easiest soul to find up here, ya know. It took no shortage of effort on my part. Effort I should not be extending to begin with.”  Both of her gloves were off now, as she looked me in the eyes, unblinking but the corners of her mouth seemed to draw up, as though she wanted to smile but thought better of it.  

“Who are you?”  

“I’m Jessica.”   

I waited for an explanation that clearly was not coming voluntarily. “Jessica who?” 

“Y/N, we really don’t have time for this.”  She sighed through her sentence, obviously irritated.  

“Maybe you don’t, but I have all the time in the world apparently.”  My aversion to authority had kicked in and being pushed around by a stuck-up stranger did not bode well for it ending anytime soon.  

“Jessica. Reaper. Here to whisk you back to the land of the living as instructed.”  She rolled her eyes, clearly resentful.  

“Instructed by whom?”  She looked at me blankly, as if to tell me that my question as asinine.  

“He didn’t.”  My eyes were wide and felt as though they might burst out of my sockets.  

“Like I said,” she began. “We don’t have much time. It’s now or never, kid.”  

My eyes drifted over to my parents, my heart feeling as though it would break, as I felt Jessica’s cold hard fingertip press against my forehead and my vision went black. 

To be continued….

Part Six

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