#but i am here for the cold opens and the middle bits where men skid off their bikes and into sewers

[mobydickering]

i've started watching 9-1-1 and i think they really missed a trick with not including a "where are they now" montage at the end of each episode.

did the lady whose face half fell off get her face back? did the man who got inflated by a tire nozzle in his ass successfully deflate?? will we ever know what happened to diego and the shark??? I MUST KNOW

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Elleth-in-Training

25, 29 and 31 w/ legolas during lotr !! could u use they/them pronouns ? if not fem is okay too ! ♡♡ thank youuu

hey! of course i’ll write they/them! i’m bi, so i definitely support lgbtq+ baes <3

i just gotta *edit* one of the prompts because ‘mahal’ is a Dwarven curse

25. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?” “YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” 29. “Did you just kiss me?” “Was I not supposed to?” “I don’t know, but could you do it again?” 31. “Valar, are you alright?” “*groan* I will be … in a few thousand years.”

Type: Imagine Pairing: Legolas x reader Summary: Y/N is training to become Captain of the Guard, and she must accompany Legolas on the quest to Mordor Warnings: ‘fuck’ Word Count: 1063 words

All non-English is in Sindarin.

Y/N sighed. They glanced longingly at young ellith (female elves) and ellyn (male elves), and wished, not for the first time, that they didn’t have to be in Imladris. Sure, the Last Homely House was a beautiful place, and they loved being out of Taur-nu-Fuin (Mirkwood) for once, but their reasons for being there were ... inexplicably adorable.

And therein lay the problem. Also the fact that they were training to be Captain of the Guard, and was doing a pretty bad job of it.

“Y/N! Tolo ar nin! (Come with me!)” the problem spoke, running up to them.

Y/N turned, and was met by the infectious smile of Legolas Thranduilion that few besides Elves were treated to. 

“A, Legolas. Am man? (Hi, Legolas. Why?)” they responded, folding their s/c arms. 

“Because,”  Legolas said, breaking the Sindarin and not even letting his smile falter at Y/N’s apparent unenthusiasm. “You’re accompanying me, you should meet the Fellowship.”

“The what?” Y/N asked, a hand on her sword. 

“The Fellowship of the RIng - four hobbits, a wizard, two men, a Dwarf and two Elves! That would be us.”

“Sounds like a bad joke,” they said warily.

“Alright, Y/N, come on, lighten up!” Legolas nudged them. They just scowled back. 

“Fine.”

Legolas watched the h/c edhel (gender-neutral term for Elf uwu tolkien we love u) go first in front of him, and now that they couldn’t see him, he finally dropped his smile. 

Why were they so cold and serious?

---

Y/N growled in frustration as they cut down yet another Orc ladder thrown haphazardly upon the battlements of Helm’s Deep, slashing at the Orcs that remained on the wall.

“Y/N! Gimli! I’m on nineteen!” Legolas called somewhere. Y/N’s keen Elvish ears picked up his score and rolled their eyes.

“Ion e suni (son of a bitch),” they muttered, yelling back, “Twelve!”

Some sword cut into her - a shallow cut, though it stung annoyingly. Y/N quickly pressed a s/c hand to the cut, drawing it away with a hiss as red blood soaked into it. They wiped their hand on their armour - no time to stop in the middle of a battle. 

Y/N stared at the blood, and cursed themself. (A/N - i am so sorry is that pronoun right?) Elves were supposed to be so talented and strong in battle they never bled - and Y/N had just proved that wrong. They channelled their anger into the fight and realised with some semblance of satisfaction that they fought better this way.

However, none of that mattered when Y/N heard a familiar voice give a growl of pain. 

“Legolas!” they shouted. “Legolas, mi van le? (Where are you?)”

“Y/N!” 

They rushed towards the source of the noise, recklessly swinging their sword around them, making Orcs cut them a wide berth. Panic shrouded their mind, and even as they saw dead familiar bodies all around them, and Aragorn crouched over the body of Haldir of Lorien, they could not shake their purpose form Legolas.

After all, they tried to reason. I am the Captain of the Guard. It’s my duty to try and help my soldiers. 

Y/N skidded to a stop around the spot where they had heard the cry, looking around for Legolas.

They found him ... and their s/c skin paled rapidly, all the colour leeching from their face. He was still fighting, still remaining strong, but in an evident moment of distraction, he’d allowed himself to be sliced shallowly by a sword, and an arrow was embedded in his forearm.

“Legolas!” Y/N yelled, lunging for him, defending the stubborn elf, who was evidently tiring, with a newfound vigour.

“Y/N,” he breathed, noting their technique as he fought beside them. “You will indeed make a good Captain of the Guard.”

“That won’t matter if we never get back to Taur-nu-Fuin,” they replied shortly, sparing their remaining concentration on Legolas with a painful concern. 

“Wait ...” Legolas said slowly, pointing at something Y/N couldn’t see. “It’s dawn.”

Just as he said it, a loud call of a horn sounded, bringing with it more hope and energy.

“Gandalf!” Y/N said, grinning. They stopped when Legolas grimaced, though the Orcs had fled to meet this new force. “Legolas, are you all right?”

“I will be fine,” he assured them. “Gandalf is here.” 

Together, they looked out from the battlements, out from the carnage, and saw the arrival of a new army to absolutely demolish the Orc force.

“Huh.” Legolas leaned more heavily against the walls. “All up, that went well. Right, Y/N?”

“YOU’VE BEEN STABBED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” they yelled, itching to give Legolas a well-deserved slap, but refraining themselves as they inspected the wounds. “How did this even happen? You’ve bled, like, once.”

“I was shot, not stabbed. I was distracted,” Legolas grumbled, unwilling to admit that the distraction had been Y/N. 

They attended to the cut first, bandaging it up tightly, and then turning Legolas over, wincing at his groan as they ran their fingers around the edge of the arrow.

“I can’t take care of this,” Y/N announced, pulling Legolas to his feet. “I’ll take you to a healer.”

Legolas scrunched his face up as he stood, attempting unsuccessfully to ignore the pain. 

“Valar, are you alright?”

“I will be … in a few thousand years.” Legolas groaned, but still managed another endearingly sweet smile. They smiled back, giving a tiny laugh at the joke and hooking Legolas’s arm over their shoulders and gesturing with a head movement which direction to walk. 

---

“Thanks, Y/N,” Legolas grinned, arrow freshly pulled from his arm and bandage replacing it. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“Nah, it wasn’t trouble,” Y/N shrugged, sitting next to him and cleaning blood off their sword. “Besides. It was the least I could do for one of my soldiers.” They smirked teasingly.

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Ooh, getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? You’re not Captain yet.”

They elbowed him. “Just you watch me.”

“Oh, I fully intend to,” Legolas said, and then took Y/N completely by surprise and kissed them.

Y/N turned red from head to toe, reluctantly pulling away after a couple seconds, gasping. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Was I not supposed to?” Legolas asked.

Y/N bit their lip. “I don’t know, but could you do it again?”

Legolas leaned in again. “Of course.”

Thanks @amanemisamisa​! i’m getting round to the rest of the requests soon!

EVERYONE - NO MATTER HOW MANY REQUESTS I HAVE THEY’RE STILL GONNA BE OPEN SO FEEL FREE!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Infiltration.”

Sorry guys about my weird schedule,  I know I am posting a little early. Hope you like it :)

“No, this this doesn’t make sense. “Krill’s voice echoed about the room, carried on a loud and startled whisper up into the massive atrium.

Sunny placed a hand over his mouth stifling his shock as she stared on with wide eyes having come to the same conclusion as Krill, “I think it makes perfect sense.”

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.” 

Before them, four large words stared at them from the darkness like the looming eye of some great beast, all powerful, and all knowing.

Bureau of Intergalactic Relations.

Department of Diplomacy

Department of Trade

Department of planetary security 

Department of Foreign policy 

Before Krill could say anything further, Sunny clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled them back into the darkness of the maintenance corridor.

Krill cursed and Sunny growled a warning for him to shut up, “They probably have security all over this place, and it will be more than a miracle if we didn’t already trip it.” She whispered. Just as she spoke, the two of them froze at the sound of approaching feet. Sunny grabbed Krill around the middle and retreated further into the darkness as voices approached.

Krill half assumed that sunny would conceal herself and wait for an opportunity to ambus, but instead, she dragged him further into the darkness of the maintenance corridor. The echoing voices faded behind them as she took a sharp corner and moved downward.

“What are you doing!” Krill hissed 

Sunny mostly ignored him as she moved on lower and lower until his struggling became so annoying she finally explained in a harsh whisper, “Tesraki have never had to worry about physical spies or assassins, so we can assume their security system will be relatively easy to breach. We know that you don’t want to try to hack the tesraki….. But sneaking into a government facility might be easier.”

“How exactly do you plan on doing that.”

It was then that Sunny let of a huff of pleasure, stopping in a small- dark room where all the building’s power outlets converged.

“I am an engineer, so I am going to…. Un-engineer This power, and cut feed to their cameras and security systems.”

“Isn’t that just the stupid way of saying break all their shit?”

“Ok yeah, go ahead and make it sound less cool.”

“You sound like Adam.”

Sunny stopped in her tracks and shrugged a bit, head down, “Well, he isn’t here so…. So someone has to say stupid stuff.”

The silence continued on for a long moment before a quiet hiss of pleasure, and with a loud THUD, the lights went out, and they were plunged into total darkness.

Krill blinked and immediately turned on his thermal vision, though the only thing visible in the space was Sunny’s heat signature.

“Good work, just, one question. How are we going to find them!”

“SHHH would you.” There was a sharp click, and a light flicked on somewhere in the darkness momentarily blinding him. Sunny’s face was suddenly lit by a soft beam of yellow light. She huffed, “I may sound like Adam a little bit, but at least I think ahead.”

“Hmm, so opposites do attract. You are the brains, and he is a complete idiot>’

Sunny frowned in the half light, the illuminating casting strange shadows over her face, “He isn’t an idiot…”

Krill gave her a look and she huffed, “Fine he is an idiot, but that isn’t to be confused with stupid. He’s smart, and you and I both know it.”

Krill held up his four hands, “No need to get defensive, I like The Admiral as much as you do.” He paused to think about that as she tilted her head at him, “Ok well actually no i don’t like him THAT much, but you get my point. Now let’s go.”

Krill inflamed his helium sack and floated up to grab ont the back of Sunny’s carapace as she started down the hall keeping her light shielded from any potential attackers as the moved further into the darkened building which housed the Tesraki government offices.

***

Adam stood, eyes wide, mouth agape at the bloody body before him. In the partial darkness he could see a line of blood, black in the dimness trailing down the side of the detective’s face like tar oozing out from his skin. Hesitantly, he moved forward, dropping to one knee as he reached out to feel for a pulse. 

He didn’t like the man, but he had never wished him dead.

It took a second, and for a moment he thought the man was dead, but after a few seconds he felt the soft fleeting beat of the man’s heart. It was weak, but the pulse was there. A sudden soft flutter to his left, had him turning on a dime hands raised as he stared into the dark. There was a soft thud, and another body hit the floor, this one also unconscious, though he could tell from the moving of his chest that the man was still alive.

He didn’t advance, staying where he was as the quiet movement walked forward from the darkness.

His eyes widened, surprised to find a familiar figure standing before him.

The Tesraki detective, holding a metal pipe in both of his hands and breathing heavily.

“He took a step back in shock, and worry.”

“Please.” THe Tesraki whispered, “You have to go, before they kill you.”

His mouth opened and closed in confusion, “I, w-what.” 

“Please, you must go. I have held them off this long, but I can no longer protect you from what is going to happen.” he pointed down at the floor where the detective lay, “Take him and leave as fast as you can out the back entrance. I will stay behind and make sure the security feed stays safe and is sent to the right people.” His head reeled in confusion, and the only words he managed to conjure were, “But… it’s dangerous.”

The Tesraki detective shook his head, “Humans do not have the monopoly on bravery. Yes it will be dangerous, and Yes I will likely come to regret my decision, but this is about the fate of the GA, now GO.”

Adam paused and then nodded, reaching down and hauling the unconscious detective onto his back in a fireman carry.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

“GO!” The Tesraki urged scuttling off into the darkness.

Adam followed his lead, hurrying off through a small open door he had not noticed before and down a narrow back hallway. There were a few times he nearly dropped the detective with how small the hallway was, and there were a few times he considered doing it on purpose just out of spite, but, thinking of what his mother would have wanted from him-- he avoided dropping the man flat on his head, dong his best to support the dead weight as he hurried out the back.

He was almost free when the voices started up behind him, growing closer.

WIth a curse, he broke into a light jog and lunged out into the pouring rain. Red neon still glittered off the streets as he ran, skidding through puddles and ducking through allies. Advertisements glowed down at him everywhere he looked, and he felt as if he was being watched by a thousand eyes from all directions. His feet dashed through a puddle that seemed to glow blue from the reflection above, it’s surface being broken by great drops of rain.

He could hear voices in the distance, though they seemed meandering and confused.

There was nowhere to go.

Accept…

He continued his jog, breaking into a half run as he raced through the streets losing the voices in the pounding rain. He was soaked to the skin now, and so was the detective whose dead weight was growing even deader. The cold rain seemed to be reviving the man, who groaned in pain.

Adam ignored it and kept going moving through the night for what seemed like hours before coming to a nondescript building and an even more nondescript door. He paused there, and raising his hand, he pounded three times against the metal. He had to wait for what felt like a good five minutes, knocking three more times till the door opened, and he came face to face with a man and a Finnari, the man with a bright green mohawk one hand held protectively in front of the finnari.

“Admiral!” The man exclaimed.

He nodded to an old friend, “You have to help us.”

Eyes still wide with shock, the man opened the door to let them inside without hesitation, “What is going on.”

Adam made it onto the floor of the deserted club, tossing the detective like a sack of potatoes onto the floor before turning to look at the LFIL couple they had met on Noctopolis not so many months ago, “I’m being framed, and there are men trying to kill us. I need help.”

***

It was a testament to how poor tesraki physical security was that Sunny and Krill managed to sneak their way up through the building. There were a few close calls and more than one reroute, but at some point they found themselves at the top of the stairs next to the elevator and one big long hallway, which was even more grand than the entrance hall with an arching vaulted ceiling, chandeliers, in the human style, which were unlit as of that moment.

The water from the rolling pools on either side of the hallway had gone still, their power cut with everything else in the building. Exotic lush plants, also from earth, lined the hallways looking rather worse for ware as, whoever had bought them, was likely more interested in their aesthetic appeal than they were about their actual botanical function.

Voices emanate up the hallway, and Sunny and krill moved further inward. Krill was, of course, silent, floating as he was, and Sunny was nearly so as the rain drumming against the large glass skylights in the vaulted ceiling overhead concealed her footsteps.

“What do you mean he is MISSING!” The voice was recognizable as tesraki almost Immediately, “How hard is it to keep tabs on ONE measly human!”

“I told you he was dangerous.” Came the second voice, one Krill and Sunny recognized immediately as Kree.

Sunny turned to glance at Krill, and in the darkness, she could just barely make out the movement of his mouth as he mouthed the word “Adam”.

“We did what you asked! We put him away, we did everything we could, and yet you STILL cant get it to work.” Paused by the doorway, they could see the shadow of the Tesraki as they stood from their seat pacing back and forth before the window, “We should have known. You failed the burg, and look what happened to them, practically castrated by their love of humans.”

Another figure darkened the doorway, stepping into their path of site, “The burg failed because the burg did not listen. They simply tried to get rid of him, turning him into a martyr in the process, and dooming their species. I thought you Tesraki would be smart enough to proactively follow my instruction and DISCREDIT him, not let him GO. Now we have no idea where he is, and no idea what sort of allies he might have.:

The Tesraki snarled and threw his hands up in the air, “The better question is what allies DOESNT he have. I did what you asked, I brought the evidence forward before the GA council, and NONE of them believed me, well, none of them other than the Bran of course, but they have always had a thing against humans, so it wasn’t hard to convince.” The Tesraki snarled, “and what happened to the lights.”

The Kree ignored the Tesraki’s complaints, “Calm yourself, delegate, and be patient. With someone as well established as the Admiral, it will be difficult to discredit him. Humanity, the GA loves him, and they will not be so willing to cast off that love.”

The Tesraki snorted, “That is the truth. The chairwoman is wrapped around his finger, Lord Celzex practically threatened to destroy me for even suggesting that his dear admiral is something other than a friend, and the Drev counselor was prepared to challenge me to a duel.”

Sunny shifted in her place, but Krill barely noticed as he was fixated on the conversation.

“Can you believe it. The man has the most political power in the galaxy and he has no clue. Imagine having that much power and just…. Not caring.”

“That is probably why the people like him so much.”

“Don't sound so impressed!” The Tesraki growled, “Because of that one, single human, our economic power is failing. Humanity has booked the monopoly on some of the most important trade agreements in the galaxy. Human products are the HEIGHT of status, and that is only making their products more desirable. Their tourism is practically feeding our economy now, and if they ever decided to pull it away, we would be left helpless. Since the humans showed up we have lost 41% of our economic power 20% of our commissions, and I estimate my power in the GA has never been lower.

The kree churred deep in it’s chest almost in amusement, “yet your city is prospering because of them.”

“Whose side are you on.”

“Whoever pays more, though I am coming to think that might just be the humans.”

The Tesraki GA delegate turned around, his face coalescing into sharp relief in the dim light from the street, “Get out there, FIND HIM and make sure he doesn’t ruin this for me. If this all works out, by the end of the month I will be chairman of the GA, and the humans will simply be an afterthought.”

[sorcererinthestars]

That Which Lurks in the Dark [FAHC]

My contribution to the @rtwritingcommunity‘s Secret Santa fic exchange. I love this exchange because it forces me to write and this year, I got a delight because I got to write something for one of my very best friends, @shadeofazmeinya! I hope you enjoy, my love! <3 

Everyone else, enjoy as well.

WC:  4583 Summary:  Sent out to Boston in the middle of the winter to make relations with a new gun-running squad, the Lads don't realize how badly this could go. Furious, bleeding, and cold, they take shelter in a shitty motel room and are forced to confront the reason they're in this mess... and the feelings that lurk in their hearts.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073598

-

It was that kind of storm that stole breath away, tore the sight from your eyes and made you weep with the fear of it. The storm howled around their little car, made every mile treacherous and dangerous, the potential of it stopping seemed to diminish with every passing second.

Inside the car it was no less dangerous. Three men sat hunched and breathless, trying to flee where they came from and yet make it to their destination unharmed. While they were out of the storm, the atmosphere inside the car was tense, able to be cut with a knife.

Michael, in the back, is bleeding. It slips crimson red down his side, across his pants, and stains the car seat. There’s no way they could return this rental — yet another thing Gavin had to deal with when they got somewhere safe. But the road almost unpassable now, not yet plowed, and the wind continued to howl its rage into the skies around them.

Gavin shifts, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to keep his hands on Michael’s wound. “How’re you doing, boi?”

The resulting wince is enough of an answer, but Michael wasn’t one to stay silent. He huffs an angry grumble. “Fine,” he snorts. Obviously untrue, but what was he supposed to do? The blood flow was thankfully stopping, but stab wounds needed treatment — none he was going to get here. “Or, fine enough.”

“We need to fuckin’ get back to the hotel,” Jeremy growls. His whole body is fixated on the road and not on the two men in the back seat. “If you had just listened to me…”

“Don’t fucking start!” Michael snaps back, his fury igniting like a piece of ripcord. If Gavin hadn’t quickly ducked out of the way, he would have been clipped by Michael’s head as the man straightens up quickly to throw his words at Jeremy like missiles. “Don’t you dare.”

“I knew it was a trap from the moment we walked in!” Jeremy hisses. “But no, you said we still had to go like you’re the fuckin’ leader or something…”

“I AM the fucking leader of the Lads!” Michael shoots back before Gavin wrestles him back down. “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty!” he snaps. “But Michael, you’re gonna bleed out if you continue to fight like this. Sit back, damn it. And Jeremy, you’re gonna crash the damn car. We need to find a place to stop.”

Stop? Jeremy turns to look at him owlishly before having to skid to avoid an ice patch in the center of the road. “This is Boston,” he retorts. “It’s what it’s like in the winter.”

“Doesn’t stop us from havin’ a half-dead guy in the back,” Gavin shoots back. “We need to stop and deal with Michael’s wounds. And look at it! You can’t see.”

It was true. The wind was just getting worse, threatening to toss the car off the road. A full out blizzard. They would need to ditch off for fear of losing everything in a crash. The money in the back seat wasn’t remotely how much they were supposed to get, but it was something, and Geoff would be upset if it didn’t make it home.

Not to mention, probably upset if three of his best crewmates didn’t return home either. Jeremy sighs. “Fine. Google a hotel or a motel closer to here then. Somewhere that won’t ask a lot of questions if we stain shit red with Michael’s blood.”

Gavin nods, pushing Michael’s hand over so he would keep pressure on his own wound. The other shifts, leaning against the car door and pressing firmly down on the stab wound. It wasn’t critical - they wouldn’t have made it out of that damn warehouse if it was. But it was fucking painful as hell and would need stitches for sure. Michael wasn’t quite looking forward to that procedure.

With hands covered in blood, Gavin pokes at his phone, grimacing at the stains that get all over the screen. “Looks like there’s a ... Motel 6 about ten...ten-ish miles down the road. Take the next right.”

Jeremy does, the car skittering and causing them all to grab on tight with shouts of alarm. “Sorry, sorry...,” Jeremy mutters, focusing again on the road and getting traction. He had forgotten how to drive in the snow after so long away.

Michael grunts under his breath and with Gavin’s directions and Jeremy’s partially safe driving, they manage to navigate towards the motel. Its lights barely puncture the maelstrom, providing a somewhat sickly flush of yellow light against the howling winds. But it’s shelter and warmth and a bed, and right now that’s all they need.

Pulling in, Jeremy takes stock of the situation. He’s probably the least bloody of the three of them, just a few stains on his jacket that he wipes off with the back of his hand. “Look. I’m gonna go in and see if I can get a fuckin’ room or two for us. You just... wait here.”

Michael glares at him from the back seat. “Like I’m g-gonna go anywhere,” he winces sarcastically. Jeremy just grunts. He knows he looks ridiculous in his purple and orange getup, but at least he has a big black parka to throw on over it. He snatches it, shouldering the heavy material, and stomps off towards the main building.

As they watch him disappear into the storm, Michael leans back against the leather. Maybe he shouldn’t be so frustrated - it certainly wasn’t Jeremy’s fault they were stood up and attacked during what should have been a simple gun-running meeting - but the sickening feeling that he failed... failed Geoff, failed them, failed himself... still twists in his stomach.

The assignment was simple. They were meeting some east coast gunrunners who were looking to start making shipments across the USA. These guys were cheap and would be a great addition to the Fake portfolio, so Geoff had Gavin research them and then sent his Lads to Boston. They’d meet with the dealers, Gavin would negotiate a deal, and then they’d fly home with money and deal secured.

But shit went tit’s up, and well...

Gavin knocks Michael out of his train of thought by adjusting his pressure on the wound, sending another wave of pain through Michael’s abdomen. He grunts. “Just ... just climb in the back and get some bandages or some shit,” he says forcefully, shoving on Gavin’s shoulder.

Glancing out the back window, Gavin frowns. “I - uh. It’s ... well, Micoo, it’s snowing, and I don’t really want -”

“Baby,” he shoots back, but before he could make another quip, Jeremy comes stomping back. His nose and ears are bright red and his eyes are shining under the hood, which is caked in snow. He hops back into the car and hovers over the heating vent for a few breathless moments, shivering. “FUCK.”

“Cold?” Michael says dryly. “Never would’ve guessed.”

He shoots him the bird and shakes himself off. “They’ve only got one room left,” he announces. “With a King bed. Which means some of us are sleepin’ on the fucking floor. But there’s heat. And a roof.”

“Good enough,” Gavin says quietly, glancing between the two of them with a somewhat uneasy expression. Jeremy starts the car and with a bit of slipping and sliding in the snow that gathered, they make it to the space outside their hotel room. A deliberate effort between all three of them manages to get Michael out of the car, Gavin gagging a bit at the bloodstain on the seat. They hobble Michael to the door and Gavin stands, shivering and supporting Michael’s dead weight as Jeremy fumbles with the lock.

The door opens with a whoosh of warm air and they stagger inside, frantically throwing the door shut behind them with finality. It’s a basic motel room, certainly nothing fancy, but thankfully warm and clean enough. Michael sags onto the bed, holding his side with a grunt. “...ugh.”

“Ugh indeed,” Jeremy shoots back. “Gav, can you stay with him? I’m going to unload the car.” He adjusts his parka. “See if you can get some hot water going, we’re all gonna need a shower.”

The room turns into a flurry of activity with Michael as an oasis of calm. Jeremy drags their few things inside - a black duffel bag full of cash, a few guns, and that’s it. All their clothes and supplies are back in the five-star hotel they had booked, a twenty-five minute drive back into the city. It may as well be sixty miles, based on how fast they could drive and as much as they could see.

Gavin, in the bathroom, fiddles with the old pipes. He cranks the hot water on as high as it would go and waits, hearing the rattle and hiss as the pipes pull the water and tries to heat it. The first blast is ice cold, sending him skittering away like a kicked puppy as he almost gets a blast of the artic against his already cold skin. The pipes rattle and groan and the water turns very slightly less miserable.

He frowns at it and leaves the bathroom. “...gonna take a while,” he announces, “if it ever gets there at all.” Then he immediately gags and almost runs back into the bathroom to vom, as Jeremy has Michael’s shirt off and is probing the wound that weeps miserably down his side.

“I can do it,” Michael grits. “I’ve dressed my own wounds before.”

“Alone, in the middle of a heist, maybe - and I’ve seen the results of your self-stitching in all the bubbled scars on your skin,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me help you, you whiny baby.”

Michael squeezes his eyes closed as Jeremy probes the edges of the wound before digging into his first aid kit. Thankfully, they had brought it along, figuring their meeting may involve a bit of a scuffle but never realizing it would devolve as much as it had. Controlling his stomach as best he could, Gavin pads over to sit next to Michael and watch owlishly as Jeremy starts doing what he can for the wound.

First he cleans it with strong antiseptic, to the point where Michael has to bite on the side of his sweatshirt to stop from howling and alerting all their neighbors to something nefarious going on in the next room. Then he sterilizes a needle as best he can and lays Michael back.

“No fuckin’ booze?” he grunts. “Just going to have you stitch me up stone cold sober?”

“This kind of place doesn’t have a fuckin’ minibar,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me do this.”

Gavin elects to go check on the water as Jeremy works to clean and stitch Michael up. Despite the apparent frustration between the two, Jeremy’s stitches are neat and clean and as painless as he can make them. At least until Michael mutters a rude comment under his breath, making Jeremy tug the sutures harder than necessary. Michael gasps in agony. “Bitch!”

“Don’t be a dick when someone’s got a needle in your flesh,” Jeremy retorts calmly, tying off the string. He cleans the wound again and wraps it in clean, bright white bandages. “There. You won’t die.”

“Glad for that,” Michael says stiffly, moving so he could kind of lean against the top of the bed. Jeremy glances over to the shower when Gavin pops back out. “So...,” he says hesitantly. “There’s - uh. Really no hot water.”

Jeremy groans and goes to put his face in his hands but stops when he sees the blood all over them. Gavin weakly tries to smile. “Enough for a quick one?” he says hesitantly and then squawks as Jeremy shoulders him aside to claim the stall. He tries to close the door but Gavin shoves his arm in the way to block it.

“.... we’re both covered in sweat and blood,” he retorts. “Just share, yeah? I won’t look if you won’t.”

Both try to ignore the blooming red on their cheeks, but it’s kind of a hard thing. But what is Jeremy going to say? Neither of them could bathe in ice cold water, not tonight when it was only nominally warmer inside than it was outside. They’d get sick. And they needed enough hot water to bring Michael a cloth to sponge himself off. So reluctantly - with Michael making joking noises in the other room - Jeremy opens the door for Gavin to follow.

They undress quietly, trying not to look. It’s hard not to. Jeremy’s eyes keep flicking to Gavin’s long, lithe figure. He’s got scars, they all do, but they seem to work on him more than they do on the two brawlers. They’re smooth and slight white lines instead of bubbled, dark little things. Gavin’s skin is still tanned despite the winter cold and he’s got hair all over. Tasteful hair, though. Hair Jeremy really has to stop himself from wanting to run his hands through.

For fuck’s sake, J. Get yourself together. He frantically tears his eyes away and focuses on trying not to be caught looking. It had been a stressful night, he just was aching for a quick tug that he would have got if Gav wasn’t sharing the fucking shower with him. He just had to focus solely on not giving himself away with any ... unsavory uncontrollable actions in his nether regions.

For Gavin, he hadn’t ever really hid his attraction in Jeremy and tonight was no different. He gazes long at Jeremy’s back and the curve where it swelled into his ass. But he was too cold and tired to dwell on his thoughts for too long, instead jumping under the lukewarm spray and huddling there until Jeremy viciously shoves him out of the way.

They wrestle for the prime spot under the water for a bit before starting to focus on cleaning themselves off. Thankfully the stall was big enough that they weren’t chest to chest - this would be impossible otherwise. They dance around each other enough to get all the grime and blood and sweat off. Jeremy even offers to clean Gavin’s back of anything he can’t reach.

“.... are you and Michael gonna bitch at each other all night?” Gavin asks reluctantly as they shut the water off and climb out, starting to towel down and change back into the only clothes they got. Jeremy elects to stay in his boxers and throws his ruined bloodstained pants into the tub to try to wash them out. He shrugs a bit. “Guy’s an ass.”

“You know he’s not. You know he’s just scared.” Gavin shifts, glancing over at Jeremy where he’s pulling his tshirt back on, grimacing at how dirty it feels on his clean form. “He got stabbed to save you, y’know.”

Jeremy jerks a bit, straightening quickly. “I know,” he shoots back. “But if he had listened to me, we would never have be --”

“Are you two fuckin’ done in there? I gotta pee!” Michael slams his hand on the door and Jeremy frantically opens it to find Michael holding himself up against the wall sluggishly, having hauled his own ass off the bed and hobbled over to the bathroom.

Jeremy sighs and helps Michael to the toilet, where he braces himself on the side of the sink and gives Jeremy a baleful look. “I can do this part myself, thanks,” he says coldly, and Jeremy holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. We’ll let you pee. If it’s bloody let me know.”

They clamber out of the bathroom and Jeremy and Gavin are left considering the big elephant - or rather, bed - in the room. One bed. Three angry men. Jeremy runs an exasperated hand over his face. “I - who’s taking the floor?”

“I can,” Michael says, opening the door and hobbling forward. “You dicks can take the bed.”

“No way,” Jeremy retorts. “You’re still bleeding. You take the bed, I don’t want to risk anything getting worse. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Can’t we all just share the bed?” Gavin asks with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a King. There’s more than enough room if we squish.”

Jeremy glances over at Michael, who groans and throws his hands up in the air as best he can without toppling over. “I don’t -”

“I’ll just take the floor then,” Gavin shoots back. “You two work out your issues.” They can all hear the exasperation in his voice as he grabs a pillow and one of the spare blankets out of the cabinet and makes a small nest on the floor. “Go to bed,” he snaps. “It’s late.”

Jeremy stands a bit dumbfounded, staring owlishly at the now pile of Gavin that was laying among the blanket on the ground. “I - Gav...”

“Just fucking stop being kids!” he snaps. “Michael, you should have listened to Jeremy when he said it’s probably a trap. Jeremy, you should have left your gun inside because that’s what tipped them off and made them start shooting. But me!” Gavin’s face contorts and he sits up a bit. “Me? I should have fucking researched this team a bit more and saw a setup when one was right in front of me. But I didn’t! None of us did. But we’re alive and for the moment safe, so can you stop being such mongs and just drop it?!”

Michael’s mouth had sort of ... dropped open. Gavin normally didn’t give such impassioned speeches, particularly ones that ended with him curling back up with his back to them on the floor in a somewhat dirty looking fleece blanket. His eyes flick to Jeremy, who is looking back at him.

“I’m sor--”

“Michael, I - “

They blink. Michael turns a bit red. “Look, I should’ve listened to you, okay...”

“No,” Jeremy shoots back. “I never should have brought my gun. If you didn’t shove me out of the way, that knife that guy threw probably would have blinded me, or worse. So uh.... thanks.”

Michael nods a bit. “I - yeah. Come on. If Gav is so comfortable on the floor with all the jizz or whatever the fuck else is down there on that shit carpet, you can take the spot next to me.” He pats the bed and, chuckling slightly, Jeremy climbs in. Gavin, meanwhile, squawks a bit at the thought and shifts, grumbling. “Micoo, why’d you have to remind me....?!”

Before he could reply, there’s a big snapping sound, what sounds like a mini explosion which makes them all jump partially to their feet, and the room plunges into darkness. And cold. “.... shit,” Michael retorts, holding his side and easing back down with a pained gasp. “Transformer blew. No power.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the cool air starts winning the battle against the now useless heating system. They wouldn’t freeze to death in their sheltered room, but it was going to get a lot colder. Gavin whimpers a bit and pulls his blanket closer to him as Michael adjusts and pulls the covers up and over him and Jeremy.

“....guys?” Gavin’s voice is small. “I ... I know I just yelled at you, but... it’s cold...”

“Oh, get up here,” Michael sighs. Jeremy nods and moves to make a small warm place for Gavin to slip into. He leaps to his feet and clambers over Jeremy to nuzzle between the two of them, dragging his blanket over them all.

For a moment, they just lay there, squished into one bed and breathing into the cool, dark room. Under the covers, Gavin shivers a bit and his hand finds Jeremy’s, latching onto it. Surprisingly, Jeremy squeezes it and holds it close.

“...you guys okay now?” Gavin asks softly. A beat and then two communal noises of affirmation from the other two boys. Michael moves a bit to get himself upright, hissing in pain, but pulls Gavin a bit closer to him. There’s something a bit possessive in the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the room, to the faces he can’t really see. “I - I almost lost you both because... because of my stupid fuckin’ decision and I...”

“Micoo,” Gavin purrs a bit, stroking his face with a blundering hand, as he could just see shadows and shapes in the dark room. But Michael’s eyes still close at the caress, loving the touch of Gavin’s hand against his skin.

“Me too,” Jeremy admits, turning. His eyes glint in the bit of light they had through the window and Michael meets his eyes. The silent apology is obvious. He snuggles closer to Gavin and they all hunch a bit tighter. More for skin contact and touch than for warmth.

Gavin’s the one, in the end, that starts it. He squirms a bit, sandwiched between the two, and holds them close - his two burly boys. One hand drifts a bit too far over and brushes against Jeremy’s crotch. Clothed in only his boxers, Jeremy gasps and shivers at the sensation, unable to stop himself.

No one can see the smirk that arrives on Gavin’s face, but he turns and Jeremy knows the expression despite not being able to see it. “Just sleep, Gav,” he retorts, a bit strained, but no chance now. “Michael... Jeremy likes being in the bed with us, Michael.”

“Shut up, Gav.”

“I think he’s just being grumpy because he secretly loves us and doesn’t like it when we all fight,” Gavin whispers conspiratorially, playfully, to Michael, who chuckles. “Don’t tease him, Gav.”

He grins down at Jeremy, squirming closer to him, but doesn’t realize when a spark kind of ... ignites behind Jeremy’s eyes. He grabs him and yanks him closer, so Gavin’s kind of on top of him and looks down at him breathlessly. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

Gavin giggles a bit. “Mm. Maybe. You’re just a very pretty boy, Jeremy.” He just likes to see the smile on Jeremy’s face, despite the fact that it was almost too dark to see. Michael next to them just watches with an amused look ... that turns into shock as Jeremy yanks Gavin down and seals their lips together.

If Michael was shocked, that was nothing like what Gavin felt. He tugs back for half a second in surprise and Jeremy immediately goes to let him go before he’s surging back down to kiss him deeper. Gavin had wanted this from the very first time Jeremy appeared on the doorsteps to the Fakes, a bag in one hand and a gun in the other, demanding a job.

“Shit,” Michael grins, face red. He wants to turn more but can’t, gasping again in pain. “Don’t... ah! Don’t leave me out of the fun.”

Two heads pop up, just shadows. “You?” Gavin says brightly. “Michael?” Jeremy whispers. “Are - I mean... we just...”

“You don’t think I take a stab wound for just anyone, do you?” Michael says dryly. “Now give me kisses, you dicks, before I have to demand more. I’m currently the invalid, you have to help me feel better you know.”

Gavin’s squeal of pleasure is all he needs, clambering as safely as he can over Michael so they could get the man comfortably between them. Gavin’s lips are very soft. Michael had always imagined them to be so, but it was one thing to use his imagination and another thing to taste them for himself. He tries to pull Gavin closer, but the move hurts and he gasps into the kiss making Gavin pull back.

As soon as he does so, Jeremy is stealing a kiss. It’s rougher than Gavin’s. As if Jeremy’s trying to apologize or make him apologize through a simple kiss. Michael does what he can to push back into it without much control of his ab muscles, meeting rough lips with rough lips.

What he doesn’t expect is Gavin’s hands on his hips. Wrapping around him and jerking. Michael’s eyes fly open with surprise and he jolts, pain and pleasure combining in a spasm. “Jesus, Gavin!”

“No good?” Gavin says quickly, retracting his hand. “I thought - it’s been a stressful night and Jeremy... and you.... “

“No, no, no...,” Michael gasps against Jeremy’s lips before he pulls away. “Very good. Very good. Just - are you sure you...”

“Before we go down this road too much, I need to remind you two that Michael fucking has a hole in his side,” Jeremy cuts in. “Nothing too crazy, please.” But he says it so easily and its so dark Michael can’t really see faces but there’s just such quiet longing in Gavin’s tone, in Jeremy’s, that he can just fall back on the bed and gasp a bit. “We’re idiots.”

“Hmm?” Jeremy asks, chuckling. “How so?”

“Yelling at each other when we were worried instead of doing this,” Michael mutters. “This is much more fun.”

Jeremy laughs. “Sure is.” Then he bends back down to kiss Michael again as Gavin kisses above his wound and gently runs his hand up and down Michael’s length.

In the end, it doesn’t take long before Michael is bucking into Gavin’s hand and gasping. Jeremy and Gavin follow him through to the end and curl up next to him, pressing kisses on both cheeks. Michael closes his eyes, a sleepy breathless mess, pain still intense but more manageable with two warm bodies next to him.

They may be lost in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of thousands of miles from home. They may have no power and not be able to see each other’s faces, and maybe thats’ why things escalated the way that it did. Maybe. But all Michael can think about now was that he had his Lads in his arms. And they were safe, at the end of the day, despite all the fear he held that made him lash out.

He’s hurt, but they’re with him. And they’ll stay with him until the bitter end.

And that’s all he needs.

[ragingbookdragon]

Healing Hearts With Christmas Slippers

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,920 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: Day 15 of The Christmas Fics! I have decided to save the real stomach punch story for Christmas Eve--but it does involve Christmas shoes...Enjoy! -Thorne

           Being in Boston during the middle of winter wasn’t Connor’s ideal way of spending the day, but duty called. He shook the hand of the last messenger and departed along the way for the delivery. With the money he gained from it, he could put it towards his own personal needs, but as he made his way, (Y/N) drifted into his mind and a memory pulled at him.

***

           “I don’t understand why it has to snow so much,” she complained, huffing with irritation as she pulled the winter coat tighter around her. “Why can’t we have warm weather.”

           Connor gave her a smile as he directed her out of the way of a group of soldiers. “Because summer has passed. It is winter now, (Y/N).”

           She shot him a glare. “I know that, Ratonhnhaké:ton. The question was rhetorical.” Her eyes drifted to one of the firepits the people were gathered around, and she resisted the urge to shove herself headfirst into it. Third degree or not, anything was better than freezing her butt off in the middle of the port in Boston.

           Grumbling, she raised her shoulders, tugging at the knit cap she wore. “Too cold in Boston. Should be curled up in blankets at the house.”

           He chuckled. “You did not have to come with me, Otsi’tsa. I could have completed the shopping trip on my own.”

           (Y/N) scoffed and reached down, taking his hand in hers. “And let you have all the fun in Boston without me?” She started tugging him towards the general store. “Not on your life, sweetheart.”

           “So, I am to assume you joined me because you wished to spend time with me?” he teased, grinning when her face pinched.

           “Don’t get a big head.” She shot back but let out a scoff. “Oh, who am I kidding? You have a big head anyways.”

           “I do not,” he responded indignantly, self-consciously reaching up to prod at his skull.

           “Really? So, all those times that you’ve clearly enjoyed proving you—”

           (Y/N) went silent, her footsteps skidding to a halt as they passed by a shop and Connor looked at her.

           “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

           She didn’t respond, pulling away from him to hurry into the store. He stared at her incredulously and followed, the warmth of the store a welcome from the cold outside.

           He watched her pick up a pair of baby-blue, silk slippers with careful hands, gently turning them over for examination. Briefly he thought about the slippers she wore around at home, patches sewn into the sides where they’d worn down. Her eyes shone with joy as she glanced down at her own boots and compared the sizes, but when she caught sight of the tag on them, Connor watched her face drop.

           “Do you want those?” he asked, and she bit her lip, before letting out a sigh.

           “Like I need to breathe,” (Y/N) joked, but her tone was pitiful as she put them back on the box. “Unfortunately, that price is not in my paygrade.”

           Connor glanced at the tag, eyes widening at the expense. A hundred pounds for a pair of shoes was obscene in his opinion, but when he took in the account of the silk and the silver buckles, it made sense.

           Her shoulders drooped and detachedly, she said, “Maybe I can ask the owner to hold them for me and come back later.”

           Something in her tone told him that she wasn’t holding out a giant hope that the owner would agree to her request or that they would be there when she returned.

           He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “I am sure they will be here for a while, (Y/N).”

           She gave him a halfhearted smile and nodded. “You’re right. Even if they’re not, I’ve still got my pair at home.” She squeezed his hand in return. “Let’s go to the general store. We’ve wasted enough time.”

           Anything Connor wanted to say would’ve fallen on deaf ears and with a heavy feeling in his chest, he watched her leave disheartened.

***

           Connor glanced down the street and smiled as he pocketed the money from the delivery, suddenly knowing what to spend the money on. Five hundred pounds was more than enough to buy the slippers, and he could only imagine the joy on (Y/N)’s face when she opened them Christmas morning. He hurried down the road, weaving in and out of crowds until he came to the shoe store.

           As he stepped inside, he glanced towards the window where the slippers had been, only to discover them gone. He frowned, walking to the store owner.

           “Excuse me,” he said, pointing to the window. “There were a pair of blue slippers in here a couple weeks ago.”

           The man nodded. “Aye, there were.”

           “Where are they now?” Connor inquired, praying that someone hadn’t purchased them.

           “Put away for a client, I’m afraid.” The owners replied, sweeping the floor.

           He felt his lungs deflate, but (Y/N)’s overjoyed expression appeared in his mind again, and with a renewed burst of determination, he took a step forward.

           Connor pulled out his coin purse. “I will pay for them right now.”

           The owner paused and looked up at him, brows furrowed. “Got cotton in your ears, boy? I said they’re put away.”

           “Put away does not mean sold,” he reasoned, and when the man opened his mouth, Connor cut him off with, “You want one hundred pounds for them? I will give you two hundred right now if you let me have them.”

           “Tw—two hundred pounds?” the man sputtered, and he simply nodded.

           “Someone I care for has her heart set on them.” He bowed his head. “I wish to make her happy by giving them to her this winter.”

           “I—” the owner started before falling silent, mulling over the deal. After a moment he sighed and nodded. “Alright. Give me a moment to go get them.”

           Connor smiled and moved to the counter, watching as the man walked into the back room, eventually coming back with a shoebox. He couldn’t help but crack the box open as the owner counted out the money, relief flooding his body as the slippers lay nestled in the cloth.

***

           The shoebox fit into his pack and he slung it over his shoulder before climbing into the saddle, directing the horse in the way of the Homestead. As he headed through the streets, he happened upon a cemetery near a church. A group was gathered around a freshly dug grave and Connor briefly wondered if they perhaps had been a Patriot. His gaze shifted over the graveyard before falling on a young woman who was kneeling in the snow at a headstone, her head bowed in silent prayer. His eyes went wide—it was (Y/N).

           Connor climbed down and tied the reins to the gate, quietly crossing the cemetery to her. With the snow crunching beneath his feet, she heard him coming, though by the surprised look on her face when she turned her head, she wasn’t expecting him.

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she greeted, the surprise giving way to happiness as she held out her hand. “I didn’t know you were coming to Boston today.”

           He knelt behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Nor I you,” he replied, smiling when she reclined in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

           “Mmm,” she murmured. “Had some things to take care of, and thought I’d stop by and see my mother.”

           Connor’s eyes drifted to the slate headstone. (Y/N) had obviously cleaned it and laid fresh flowers down. “Your mother is buried here?” he asked, and she nodded.

           “She passed when I was younger,” she explained. “My father is buried in New York.”

           “Why different locations?”

           (Y/N) hummed. “After mother died, my father relocated us to New York.” Her eyes drifted to the city streets. “Boston just seemed so…dark after her passing.” She cleared her throat, reaching out to trace the lettering. “Eventually my father remarried a young huntress. She lives in the outskirts of New York.”

           A small smile graced her lips. “I should visit her soon…take you with me.”

           Connor frowned. “I do not think she would appreciate my being there.”

           She huffed. “My stepmother is a Cherokee woman, Ratonhnhaké:ton. I assure you, she will not mind you being there. In fact, she’ll be overjoyed.”

           “Oh,” was all he could manage, and she snorted, craning her neck to look at him.

           “Now if you really want, I can tell you all about the young men from her tribe she wanted me to meet and possibly marry.”

           Connor’s face pinched and he grunted at her, arms tightening ever so slightly.

           She giggled. “I’m only joking, beloved…well, not exactly. She did want me to meet a few of them.”

           (Y/N) turned her attention back to the gravestone and let out a heavy sigh. “My father was so heartbroken when mother died…and when he met Atsila, I watched his heart heal for the first time in forever.”

           “Did yours?” Connor questioned.

           “It did,” she murmured. “Atsila was never able to have children, but I think that’s what made our bond so great—I was the only child she had.” Her eyes narrowed softly. “I know that mother saw our pain and sent my stepmother to us.” (Y/N) let out a laugh. “Silly to think, but—”

           “It is not silly,” he said abruptly, gently taking her chin in his hand, turning her face to meet his gaze. Connor’s eyes searched hers and he said, “The last thing my mother said to me is that I would think myself alone but that she would be with me always.” His thumb caressed her lip. “I know that she guided me to the Homestead and eventually you.”

           Her eyes filled with tears and she leaned into his hand, a wobbly smile on her lips. (Y/N) seemed to be searching for a response, but gave an amused sigh and whispered, “I love you.”

           Connor pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing, “And I you, (Y/N).”

           Suddenly, waiting until Christmas didn’t seem to be worth it, and he pulled away, reaching for his pack. “I have something for you,” he said, and her eyebrows furrowed with curiosity.

           “Ooo, a present?” she cooed. “Was I a good girl this year?”

           He felt his cheeks warm and sent a halfhearted glare her way, but she simply laughed it off. The box rested in his hands and he passed it to her.

           “I thought to wait until Christmas day, but I do not want to anymore.”

           (Y/N) set the box in her lap and unwound the bow, pulling the lid off. Immediately, she slammed it back on and stared wide-eyed at him. “You didn’t,” she blurted with disbelief, and Connor chuckled.

           “I could not help but think of you.”

           She opened the box again and looked inside, bewilderment spread across her face. “I can’t believe you bought these…” (Y/N) glanced at him. “For me.”

           “You have worked tirelessly all year, (Y/N). You deserve to be rewarded with something you genuinely wanted.” He reasoned, placing one of his hands over hers.

           She huffed and shook her head, but a grin was still on her lips. “Thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

           He matched her smile. “You are more than welcome, Otsi’tsa.”

           She was silent a moment, admiring the slippers, then she deadpanned, “Well thanks to you, I have to buy a nice gift for you or else I’ll look like an ass.”

           “(Y/N)?!”

           “What?”

[writer-k-pop]

The Bookseller (j.w.w) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.8k / Ending B - 4.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And there's a problem with one of the elevators." Jiwoo says sheepishly and I close my eyes in frustration, a scowl growing on my face.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I look up at the ceiling and pucker my lips together. "What's next? The front doors break?" I say up to the Gods, not caring if they are actually listening or not.

Jiwoo raises his eyebrows at me, "You wanna be challenging them like that?"

I lower my gaze to him and narrow my eyes, "I will do as I please."

Jiwoo holds up his hands in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself again, "Add it to the maintenance list and I'll wrestle with it tomorrow." I instruct him.

"Will do." Jiwoo nods and we continue on our way.

"Is he still with Soon Bok?" I ask him, getting tired of hearing only the sounds of our shoes hitting the flooring.

"Yes, she should be finishing the tour and should be heading to his room." Jiwoo answers just before we hit a more open area and guests mill past us.

"What room?" I ask, ignoring most of the guests even though they offer polite smiles.

"Number 177." Jiwoo informs me. "The one with the huge book shelf wall."

I smile, already knowing the answer to my thought, "Well, let's hope he enjoyed books in his ..." I look at him to finish my sentence.

"Oh," Jiwoo quickly realizes what information I'm searching for, "6 lives."

I nod, "Pretty average. But let's hope he enjoyed books in at least some of his 6 lives."

Jiwoo shrugs, "If not, it's a nice aesthetic wall."

I pat him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you think it's good for staring at. Because I definitely spent hours picking each book so that it could be just a good photo opportunity." I finish sarcastically.

"Not everyone's a reader." Jiwoo rolls his eyes.

"They should be." I retort.

"Anyway..." Jiwoo changes the subject as we reach the edge of the lobby, "Will you be joining the us for the celebration this weekend?”

I open my mouth to give my regular 'no' answer but two males cut me off. They barrel through the front office doors, a brunette following a few steps behind a blonde one. Both seem angry and on edge.

"I saw you with my girl!" The brunette shouts.

"I don't what you saw, man, but I was never WITH your girl." The blonde one responds and flicks a certain unpleasant finger behind him, "So leave me the fuck alone."

The lobby slowly gets quiet and not a soul moves, not even me or Jiwoo. Jiwoo out of fear and me cause I kind of want to see where this leads.

The brunette jogs ahead of the blonde and forces him to stop, "Just tell me why you were with my girl and then I'll leave you the fuck alone." The brunette seethes.

"Dude." The blonde holds out his hands, "We're best friends. Why would you think I'd be with your girl? Do you really think that low of me?"

"You know, after the stunt you pulled with Henry, I wouldn't put it past you." The brunette spits.

The blonde gets right up in the brunette's face and presses finger into his chest, "None of that was my fault. I was the one who got played and yet everyone seems to believe otherwise."

"The evidence is pretty clear." The brunette grits his teeth.

Jiwoo slowly leans over as if any faster and the men's radar would latch onto him. "Shouldn't you do something?" He whispers.

I shrug and look at him, "They're only yelling right now. I don't have to do anything until the-"

The sound of someone crashing against a column cuts me off. I look over and find the brunette pushing off of the pillar, anger steaming off of him. The blonde drops into a fighting stance.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, "Now I do something." I mumble, quite annoyed that they would cause such a scene when they're dead. It's not like they could kill each other here.

I stalk closer to the brawling men who now have a fistful of each other's shirts. When I'm a few steps away, I clear my throat loudly to get their attention.

They both glance at me for a second before returning to staring at each other.

"Leave us alone, sweetheart." The blonde says lowly.

"This is none of your business." The brunette adds.

I scoff, "Actually, this is entirely my business seeing as you are acting ridiculous in my hotel."

The men land a few punches on each other but remain close.

"You want to kill each other?" I wonder but the men don't answer, "You're already dead so there's no point in trying."

Both men pause, look at me, then back at each other. And a new kind of fury is awoken in them.

"YOU GOT ME KILLED?" They both scream just as I was thinking they were going to back down.

They begin going at each other again but this time with more anger and all I can do is groan. After giving them a couple seconds, I walk towards them to pull them apart. I grab both of their arms and before I can 'magically' send them flying away from each other, the men swing the arms I'm grabbing. With their combined force aimed at my stomach, I'm sent skidding backwards on my side across the floor.

When I finally stop sliding, I jump to my feet, ready to kick both of their asses. But when I look up, Mun Hee is restraining the blonde one while the brunette is being shoved backwards by a guest.

"Hey, cool down man. Cool down." The guest says and my ears instantly recognize his voice: Wonwoo's.

"(y/n), you okay?" Jiwoo jogs over to my side, worried.

I swat at my pants, "I'm fine." I answer him without taking my eyes off of Wonwoo as he stands in front of the brunette male.

"You probably shouldn't have told them they were dead." Jiwoo states and I shoot him a glare. He frowns and nervously glances around the lobby.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" I clasp my hands behind my back and look at the brunette then the blonde with cold eyes. They both instantly realize they may have screwed up and lower their defenses.

"If you would've actually stopped to look at where you were, you would've stopped at the front desk and understood what was going on." I explain as they step closer, Wonwoo and Mun Hee not far behind. "And what is going on is that you both have died. Congrats." I give them a sarcastic smile. "And unfortunately, your souls don't have another life lined up so." I gesture to the hotel, "You have come here to greet your past lives once more before heading to the place where your soul will rest peacefully.... Hopefully." I say, mumbling the last word in disgust.

The men look at each other in a bit of shame and embarrassment.

"From my understanding," I continue, "You both died because you were fighting over some bitch-"

"She's not a bitch." Both males cut me off with the same sentence before sharing a menacing look which has Mun Hee and Wonwoo on alert for another fight.

"And you walked right into the street, where, well you know." I finish, ignoring their intrusion. My words sink in and they both soon realize that I'm being serious and am not joking, which turns them somewhat somber.

"So what do we do?" The blonde asks.

"You go get assigned a room, stay here for the duration of your lives, and then get the hell out of my hotel." I snarl. "Oh, and stay out of my sight. I'm already annoyed with you two."

"Oh, actually." Mun Hee chuckles and raises a hand, "He's supposed to go to Hotel Blue Moon." He points to the blonde male who's eyes widen.

"What is that?" The blonde asks, afraid it might be somewhere along the lines of hell. And man do I wish that is true.

I glower at the lobby wall, "It's the place where souls go before living another life." I say, ready to have a very strong word with the Gods.

"What about me?" The brunette wonders, glancing at me like he’s afraid to be left here in my hotel.

"Can I see your palm?" Mun Hee steps forward and examines the man's palm. "Hmm... You too. You're not supposed to be here."

With my annoyance nearing my tolerance levels, I turn away from the small group but before I walk away, I tell them, "Get out of my hotel."

Without waiting for them to respond, I walk away hoping for silence so I can mentally scream profanities at the Gods and Hotel Blue Moon. But instead of silence, I hear footsteps following me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to face the idiot following me.

And by idiot, I mean the man who let me sit in his book store for hours and the man I loved.

"Hi, sorry." Wonwoo nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Uh, I was just headed to the library." He makes up an excuse.

I press my lips together then point back the way we had come, "The library is back that way." I inform him.

He turns around and I use the chance to slip down an unknown hallway, hidden by a tapestry.

"Actually, I was..." I hear Wonwoo turn back around, "Going to ask if you were okay." He finishes before sighing.

I turn my head to the side and look down at the floor, listening to his footsteps retreat back towards the lobby. Part of me feels kind of bad for ditching him like that but another part of me doesn't want to get close to him until he's the soul I knew.

Which is going to take 6 days.

~The Sixth Day~

"What's wrong with you?" I ask Mun Hee who is laying on my couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"The Wonwoo guy asked me to bring him a bunch of supplies last night." He groans and I walk to my desk to add some more files to my growing stack.

"What kind of supplies?" I question and lean back against my desk.

"Books, paper, glue, binding, and some book covers if we had them." Mun Hee says and I chuckle because of course Wonwoo would want those supplies.

He was a bookseller when I knew him but he cared for books just as much and found a lot of joy in fixing old books.

"Ugh. My shoulders are killing me." Mun Hee rolls his shoulders backwards.

"You're already dead." I remind him.

"Way to shoot a man while he's down." Mun Hee sasses.

I shrug. "Eh."

"So much love." Mun Hee mutters.

I chuckle and move to sit in my desk. But before I can, the door opens and Yong pops just her head in.

"Hey, Wonwoo's in the garden." She informs me and I nod with a smile, "And have you seen Mun Hee? He disappeared a while ago and I haven't seen him anywhere."

I point to the couch and Yong steps into my office to look, "Right there."

"Mun Hee!" Yong raises her voice a touch, "Get back to work. Goodness, I am not your mother."

Mun Hee rises to his feet, "Feels like it sometimes." He grumbles and then follows Yong out of my office.

When I step into the hall, I hear their echos of laughter floating farther away. After securely closing my office doors, I turn down the hallway and head for the elevators. I rock back and forth in my heels anxiously while the elevator slowly approaches my floor. The elevator finally arrives and opens its doors. I quickly rush inside and furiously press the lobby floor button.

"Come on." I encourage it to go faster but hey, like everything else about this hotel, it doesn't listen to me.

Eons later, the elevator reaches the lobby and releases me from its squared hold. I rush out and nearly run into Jiwoo.

"Woah, hey, where's the fire?" He wonders as I continue past him.

"Can't keep my man waiting." I throw a wave at him over my head and his only response is laughter.

About halfway down the hall, I pause to control my breathing and straighten out my dress. After I'm satisfied with the way I look, at least the way I think I look, I walk the last little bit to the garden.

Peeking in, the midnight moonlight illuminates the area with a crisp, clean look. The bare tree somehow looks less dead but only very slightly. The usually hidden bench is out in front of the tree and its subsequent chrysanthemums. And sitting on the bench, with his nose buried in a book as per usual, is Wonwoo. A simple broad striped sweater hugs his shoulders and his glasses sit prominently on his nose. With one leg bent over the other and the book in his hands, he looks like the perfect gentleman.

"Took you long enough." Wonwoo comments and turns to the next page of his book, "I nearly finished three chapters while waiting for you."

I roll my eyes and walk around the bench, "I had things to do, Mr. I-can-read-500-pages-in-5-hours."

"That's a bit exaggerated." He closes one eye in thought but then breaks out into a smile. "Come here." Wonwoo grabs my hand, pulls me down, and securely wraps me in a hug. He doesn't care that his place in the book is lost as the front cover closes shut.

I chuckle and snuggle close into him.

"I missed you." He breathes out after a bit of silence.

"I did too." I mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Wonwoo shrugs and I readjust to be sitting properly. "It was what it was. I'm just glad to know that you weren't dead."

"Well, I can't exactly die." I give him a silly smile and nod towards the tree.

"I know that now." Wonwoo says a smile on his own lips. The smile that knocked me off my feet every day.

"What were you reading?" I ask, glancing at the book now in his lap.

Wonwoo picks it up and holds it out in front of us. "The one I've read a million times."

I squint my eyes in thought, "You've read a lot of books a million times, so which one is it?"

Wonwoo chuckles and knowing that I can still make him laugh with my mundaneness makes me very happy. "Sherlock Holmes." He says, setting the book aside.

"Is it still fun to read after the first time?" I wonder.

"Of course it is." Wonwoo answers as if I lost my marbles. "You get to go back and pick up on details that you missed during the first read."

"Yeah, but you have to read it all again." I give a small, shy smile.

"But you would rather spend all your time staring at me while I read." Wonwoo stretches out his arms arrogantly.

I hit his chest playfully and he retracts his arms while laughing.

"I heard you're the reason Mun Hee was in my office complaining about his back." I say following a groove in the tree with my eyes.

"Am I? Oh, is it from all the stuff I asked him for?" Wonwoo wonders then clicks his tongue, "I told him I could help if it was a lot. But he said he was fine so I just sat in my room."

"Sounds like something Mun Hee would do." I nod my head, "How did you like your room by the way?"

Wonwoo smiles contently, "I loved it. The wall of books was beautiful. You had all my favorites in there." He nudges my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Took me ages to find all of them. Some of them were quite old." I say with a slightly apologetic look.

But Wonwoo shakes his head, "Don't worry. I fixed them all."

I look at him in wonder, "You fixed all of them?" I ask.

He nods, "Yeah, most of them just needed some binding repairs and the rest weren't that hard to repair."

"So that's why you asked for the supplies and broke Mun Hee's back." I realize though I should've realized sooner.

Wonwoo laughs and my heart flutters happily at the sound. "That's why I needed the supplies."

"You didn't read all of them in that time, did you?" I double check and give him a questioning look.

He boops my nose and scrunches his face at me, "No I didn't. It took me a whole lifetime to read all those books."

"A whole lifetime." I repeat his words.

"How did you even find all those?" Wonwoo asks, playing with my hand, "I read most of those after you left."

I smile bashfully, "I kind of guessed."

'You guessed?" Now Wonwoo gives me the questioning look.

"After I left, I just kind of kept an ear open in the book world and sometimes I would come across a book that just felt like you would really enjoy. So I brought it back and started a collection in that room."

"But other guests use that room." Wonwoo pouts, feeling kind of jealous that other people would've read those books before him.

"Nah, only the right touch can get certain books off the shelf." I tell him with a knowing smile, "I made sure that no one but you or I would be able to read the special ones. To every other guest, it's just a really aesthetic wall."

"Well, look at my girl go." Wonwoo says smugly.

"So." I say, wanting to change the topic.

"So?" Wonwoo responds, turning his body slightly to face more towards me.

"I wanna know..." I pause.

"Mmhm?" He nods once, encouraging me to keep speaking.

"Did you end up married to your books or did some lucky girl come and steal your heart?" I ask with a genuine smile of curiosity.

Wonwoo chuckles but I notice the light behind his eyes dims ever so slightly. His chuckle dies down but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just looks at the tree, contemplating.

"You know I'm not mad if you did move on." I clarify, "I honestly wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I wanted you to find it after I left. You deserved that happiness."

I know Wonwoo hears me because he chews on the inside of his cheek but he still doesn't say anything.

"What you didn't deserve was falling into the pain of me and my punishment." I say apologetically, "It happened to twelve others and I never for a moment thought any of you deserved that pain."

Wonwoo wraps an arm around me and pulls me close again, "Oh, it's not your fault. It's that damn demon's and trust me if I ever get the chance to meet it, I will get revenge for what it did to you." He presses a kiss to my temple before whispering. "I did marry."

I smile and ignore the slight pain slicing through my heart. Even though my words about wanting his happiness are true, it still stings.

"I met her like 5 or 6 years after you left." Wonwoo recalls and the memories sparkle in his eyes, "She first started coming in and reading her own books. Then she'd come in and read the books I had on the shelves. Then she started to watch me while I repaired books."

"That must've been awkward." I giggle.

"It was at first." Wonwoo agrees, "But then she did something and I knew she was supposed to be in my life."

"What'd she do?" I ask, intrigued.

"Remember the first edition book you and I repaired together?" He wonders.

I nod, "How could I forget that? I was finding glue in random places for weeks."

Wonwoo chuckles at the memory, "You're the one knocked over the glue can."

"You're the one who put it on the edge of the table." I banter back.

"Anyway." Wonwoo squeezes my arm, "I kept it in a showcase box near the back of the store. Hardly anyone asked about it and those who did only wondered if it was for sale. But she, she inspected it and then asked if I had put it together."

"And what did you tell her?" I probed.

"I told her that I had repaired with someone special. I think she could see or hear the bit of sadness in my voice cause she didn't dig deeper." Wonwoo explains, "So then I asked her what made her think that we'd done it by hand. And she," He laughs, "She said cause the back cover was crooked and on the part that poked out, she could see some writing. Somehow made out my name."

I chuckle and think back to the night we stayed up for hours trying to decide what to write there. Like it was our will that would go down in history as the most important document ever. The warm tea cup in my hands and the burning candles that painted the room in rustic comfort.

"And then that was that really. We dated for a while, got married. and then we raised three kids." Wonwoo continues his story.

"Three kids?" I inquire.

Wonwoo nods proudly, "Three. Changkyun was my oldest then came the twins, Soyou and Lisa. Changkyun protected the girls well and the girls grew up tough all thanks to him."

"Nah, I'm sure you had a large part in that too." I reassure him. "You were always tougher than I. Even in future lives." I reference the first day of his stay.

"Oh, I totally was going to ask you if you were okay that day, but you just disappeared." Wonwoo remembers and pouts that he didn't get the chance to ask then. "Part of the punishment I'm guessing."

"Actually I don't know. I never really tried so I don't know if it's against the rules or not." I admit. "But I, uh, I didn't want to find out."

Wonwoo gives me an understanding look, "Totally understand. It couldn't have been easy being stuck here for all those years."

"For the first hundred years, it was awful." I tell him, "But after that, I grew numb to the passing of time. It just kind of happened like that."

"So while you were numb to time, I was terribly sensitive to the passing of time." Wonwoo ponders the thought.

"Kids grow up too fast?" I guess.

Wonwoo looks at me with confusion cause how am I supposed to know what it's like to have kids.

"I overhear guests chatting with each other and a big part of the conversations are kids and how they just grow up so fast." I explain pointing a thumb behind us towards the hotel.

"Ah, I see." Wonwoo murmurs, "But yeah. They just kept growing and then all of a sudden, my wife and I were empty nesters and then a second later, we had grey hairs on our heads and grand babies in our arms. Completely crazy."

I giggle at his amazement, "So what did your kids end up doing?" I ask and he dives into the stories of his children and his life with them.

I sit and listen to his low voice tell the tales of the bookstore, how some years the store would be overrun with teens and then next year it would be filled with fresh out of college adults. He immerses himself in the ocean of stories from his life while I float along the with the waves and let his voice take me through the stories.

All too soon, though, the setting sun freezes the ocean and my tree's crooked branches set me back in reality.

"The setting sun always represented an end with another beginning." Wonwoo stares at the western windows where the last rays of sunlight are slowly being swallowed up by the night. "But this one is just an end."

I stare at his face, hoping to memorize all the pieces I missed before. Like he does during a second or third read of a book.

"For your worldly soul, it's an end." I say, "But for your true soul, it's the start of an eternity of peace."

"What do you think happens on the other side?" He asks, looking back at me.

I give a small shrug, "I don't know, but you'll find out today and someday I'll find out too."

"Could it be like the books?" Wonwoo wonders.

"Depends on which book." I tell him with a tender smile.

"Touché." He tilts his head. "You know," He leans closer to me, "I know I have to go, but I really don't want to." Wonwoo giggles.

I laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "But we do." I remind him, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.

Wonwoo sighs, "We do." He repeats and stands up before helping me up. "Were you always this fashionable?" He asks after looking me up and down.

I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, yes, and fashion has changed since we were together."

Wonwoo grabs my hand and swings it between us as we walk, "Well, the change looks absolutely stunning on you."

The lobby is quiet as the hotel's opening hours are just around the corner. We quickly make it to the back door and like a gentleman, Wonwoo opens the door for me.

The cool night air rushes by us and we both stand on the landing just taking in the scene.

"Remember the night by the river?" Wonwoo wonders when he starts walking towards the forest, Shin, and the car that will take him.

"The night when you said you loved me?" I ask and he nods, "The air feels the same, doesn't it?"

"Exactly the same. " Wonwoo nods, gripping my hand tighter. "Do you think the Gods are doing this on purpose?"

I look up at the dark sky that's littered with tiny little lights from thousands of miles away. "At this point, I'm certain everything that happens to me is because they," I point upwards, "Want it to happen."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to thank them for letting me happen to you." Wonwoo smiles and I feel his eyes on me.

Lowering my gaze, I meet his gaze, "But I caused you pain. Like freakishly awful pain."

Wonwoo shrugs, "Still don't regret meeting you." He says as we reach the car.

Shin has the door open and is waiting patiently.

"This is the end of my worldly journey then." Wonwoo comments, glancing at the forest and its fog.

"Now you can rest. Forever." I place my hands on his cheeks and he rests one of his on top of mine.

"You know, hearing it now, it isn't as scary as I initially thought." He says a placid smile on his lips.

I kiss him through a smile, "Says the man who would be willing to jump from the highest heights just for the thrill." I mumble against his lips.

"Answer me this, will you?" He asks and rests his forehead against mine. I nod and he asks, "If you were to have met me without a punishment, would you have stayed with me?"

I stare into his eyes and move to rest my arms on his shoulders, "Till the very end." I say with honesty rallying behind me.

"That's all I need to hear." Wonwoo says then presses another kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are glossy but I know he won't cry. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers.

"I love you too." I tell him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears.

Wonwoo pulls away and lowers himself into the car. After Shin shuts the door behind him, the car drives into the fog.

The tires crunch over the gravel road and Shin stops next to me.

"That was the bookseller?" He asks.

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"He was a good man. He shall be very comfortable." Shin reassures me and walks back into the hotel.

With Shin gone, I let the tears fall freely. Letting the tears fill with the sadness and pain of being left then let them fall and land wherever they please. My heart cracks into a million pieces and it takes everything within me to keep it from exploding into more pieces. It is then that a white chrysanthemum withers away in my garden.

After a while, the moon has risen high into the sky and my tears have dry though my heart hasn't stopped aching. But even now, I have a hotel to run and others to wait for. So I run my hands through my hair, detangling it, and wipe away the left over tears. Just as Wonwoo always told me, I straighten out my shoulders, hold my head level, and walk back into the hotel with purpose.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Did you ever think today would come?" Wonwoo wonders.

"I knew it would come but I just could never definitively say when it would come." I tell him, "Like when an author has a story and a perfect plot in their mind but putting it on paper is harder than imagined and they’re not sure if the story will ever leave their mind."

“Good analogy.” Wonwoo chuckles, “Come on. Your story has left the author's mind." We stand up together and I instantly grab his hand. Like a child latching onto their favorite toy.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"Hey, Mun Hee." Wonwoo calls out, "I would've helped you with the supplies. You didn't have to carry them by yourself and hurt your back."

Mun Hee vigorously shakes his head, "No, no. I didn't hurt myself, I'm just sore. I haven't worked my body like that in ages." He gives excuses.

"Well, you should start again. Who knows what other guests will request." Wonwoo advises and Mun Hee gives him a thumbs up.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks and looks at me with tears appearing in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears and I hear Wonwoo chuckle behind me.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Wonwoo grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Wonwoo and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Wonwoo softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Wonwoo securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Chapter Seven

Hello my dudes, I want to start off by saying am sorry you’ve had to wait. Just know that am glad I waited because am actually really happy how this turned out and where am going to take it. Am so excited to write the next bit. Remember if you want to be tagged let me know <3

Warnings: Swearing. 

Tags:  @i-am-sarah , @whothefuckstolemykeds , @drowsyrrog , @culturefiendtrashqueen , @rogue-barnes-16--main-account​ , @alliwantfromyouistomakelovetome​ , @valerie-weasley​ , @sueeatstheworld​ , @bleona2808​ , @pippin248​ , @myfatbottomedgirls​ , @httpfandxms​ , @cooliosmosh​ , @speckles-s​ , @walking-disgrace​ , @itsmeaudrieee​ , @fight-the-freaking-fairies​ , @irrelevant-pumpkin​ 

Gif credit: warriorteam1924

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“Will it work?”

“Do you have that little faith in me?” I said half paying attention to One, half trying to cross wires that connected the buildings systems.

I was crouched down outside the massive tower block in Tokyo, I’d managed to opened the electrical box to fiddle with the wires that controlled the security systems. Easy enough to break yet a little bit more complicated to fix which would make me look busy when I was feeding the guys information.

“Done.”

“She’s amazing.” I heard Four say a little dazed.

“No flirting, it’s go time.” I just laughed at Ones stern fatherly tone, if you could call it that.

I stood up closing the box again, shutting the gate to the metal cage as I entered into the alley way. When I rounded the front of the building, Five was getting out of the car. I mused at her bright green dress, then frowned down at my electrician uniform.

"Next time I get to dress up fancy." I mumbled to myself

I winked at her then walked through the front entrance.

There stood a tall Japanese guy in what looked like a security uniform. Bingo.

“Hey, am here to fix the security systems that are down.” I told the guard, hoping to god he spoke English. But judging by his employer he would, I held up my fake Id, which he obviously thought was the real deal.

“They are?” He said confused.

"Yah, why would I be here otherwise?" He just shrugged and led me to the back room.

He sat down in front of the monitors, clicking the mouse a few times.

"So they are." He got up offering me the chair.

“Thanks.” He walk round to the back of my chair and proceeded to looking over my shoulder.

“You afraid?” I heard One say to Four over coms.

“Nope.”

“Good luck.”

“Saying good luck is bad luck.” Four sassed back.

“I take it back.”

“Taking it back is even worse luck!”

I went to giggle but then remembered where I was.

“Erm it’s gonna take a while so you can go back to work.” I turned to the security guard giving him my sweetest smile.

“Sure, just shout if you need anything.” With that he took his leave shutting the door softly.

I turned back to the monitors fiddling for about 5 minutes with the wires then flipped a red switch. The screens jumped back into life.

“Kay we’re all set here guys, Five make your move.”

I looked towards the top camera that was placed outside of the building to see the grey sports car skid into view, stopping just short in front of the valet. As One moved the crane into place so Seven would be able to get a clean shot inside the apartment, Three was revving the car outside to make a grand entrance.

“The eagle has landed, love that movie line.” Seven announced.

This was it, it was either going to all go smoothly or it was going to be a disaster. I closed my eyes saying a short prayer that everyone would come out of this mission safely.

As I opened my eyes I saw Five get up from her seat, pulling the plug out of the laughing gas canasta then threw it onto the floor so the smoke could spread.

It billowed out as people tried to frantically cover their mouths but it would do no good.

“One, the laughing gas is working.” Two said.

Suddenly the door flew open, I saw the security guard reaching for the phone.

“Oh no you don’t.” By the time I’d reached him and knocked him unconscious the button had been pressed.

“Shit One the police have been called, we have thirteen minutes.”

“The zip line is secure.” Five breathed through the mic, well at least something was going well.

I sat there monitoring everything while listening to the conversation coming from the rooftop. To say I was anxious was an understatement, this could go sideways and fast.

Two and Three finally entered the lift to go up to the apartment.

“Underwater, thirty seconds.” I heard Seven say, knowing he was talking about Four.

My anxiety peaked, there were most definitely guards stalking around him causing him to get into the pool, to go under the water to avoid been seen. But that also meant that he might have to stay hidden for as long as possible.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, frustrated that I couldn’t see what was happening up there. All I could do was wait for the instructions that Seven was giving out.

“Freeze Four he’s above you.” I in turn froze, getting a little breathless.

“60 seconds, One he’s going to drown.” I gasped, lunging forward getting ready to run up there myself but stopping short for I knew it wouldn’t help the situation.

I took a deep breath and sat back down again.

“I’ve got 4 guys up top, want me to drop them.”

Yes I murmured to myself quietly enough that it wouldn’t be picked up on coms.

“No, we’ll be comprised.” One said in heavy puffs.

I wanted to give some encouragement but I also didn’t want to interrupt Sevens instructions so I kept myself silent. Instead focusing on the pain of my nails biting into my hand that I was clenching way too tight.

“He’s been under 1:20, he’s going to drown!” Seven said in a more pleading tone.

I had to stand up again, this was getting way too much. I started to pace the little room trying to focus on my own breathing.

“Four move right.” Seven said a little more sure of himself.

I moved to lean down with my palms flat on the freezing cold desk just in front of the monitors.

“In coming round.” What was Seven going to do?

I heard a shot go off, then it clicked. He must have shot a tiny hole in the glass at the front of the pool to make a little air pocket. I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding, closing my eyes for a bit.

Once I felt myself again, I sat down and started to do what I was here for. Monitoring the outside camera to warn the others when the police were arriving.

Two and Three decided to have a moment in the lift, or rather should I say Three decided to be an idiot. I loved Three to death but he was even starting to get on my nerves, no doubt One would rip into him later about almost jeopardising the mission by losing one of the seals on his mask and there for becoming high on laughing gas.

“How you doing over there? Having fun yet.”

“Anyone ask you dumb questions when you’re 90 stories up.” One and Four were really going at it tonight.

“No need to climb angry.”

“Yeah well if you’d stop teasing him.” I mused.

“Mate you’re really ruining my flow right now you know that, and thank you Zero. Normally you’re the one annoying me.” I could hear the smirk.

“I mean I could start being an ass to you if you like?” I scoffed.

“No. No more flirting tonight, just get those devices in place.” One said

“Hey, have you ever been to an American movie theatre, between 1983 and 2015.” One decided to ask such a random ass question.

“No I just pirate them on my phone. Actually Zero I was thinking, when we get back to the hotel. IF we get back safely tonight I was wondering if you wanted to watch one with me.”

There was silence for a second while I tried to compute what he’d said to me.

“You’re really asking me this now? Four you just said it yourself. You’re 90 stories up and you’re asking me out?” I said In disbelief.

“I asked you to watch a movie with me to distress after the mission, but if you want I can make a move on you tonight as well.” He laughed smugly.

“1 that’s a ass hole move pirating, and 2 no one will be making any moves on anyone tonight. I already have enough to worry about with Two and Three fucking.” One said sternly.

“Now concentrate! Get ready to pull that trigger Seven.”

“Till my fingers hurts.” Seven announced.

Just then a loud screeching noise started up slowly, gradually building while the vibrations shock the whole tower. A feign voice started coming over the phone in the security room, probably someone upstairs trying to get a man to turn off the music.

“No can do big boy.” I said to myself without bothering to answer it.

I watched as Two and Three entered the top level, positing themselves to start shooting.

“Hit it, now.” And so it began.

It was constant shots ringing out over coms, part of me wished I could be up there with them. But I knew One would crucify me if I got in the middle of it.

“One, Fours got the target.” Few okay half way there.

“Four move.” Seven said.

“Got the target, moving out.” Four declared.

I started to get more anxious the more the silence went on, I’d never realised how nerve racking it would be to be on field. But honestly I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“OUCH.” I heard Three exclaim.

“Three speak to me what happened?!” I said panicked.

Looking at the monitor to my left to see Three laying on the floor.

“Please tell me I did not just kill three.” Seven said

“Seven what the hell.” What was he playing at.

“The hell you picking up a bad guys gun for Three?!” Seven said angrily.

Idiots. Am surrounded by absolute idiots.

“Am so mad at everyone right now.” Two spoke.

“You and me both Two, you and me both.” I chimed in.

“What’s new I like you mad.” Shut up One that’s going to make her more angry.

I suddenly monitored more and more men exiting the elevator, where the hell were they all coming from? I saw no indicators of where, or how these men were getting here so fast.

“One minute left guys, make it count.” I informed them.

I saw Five move through the lobby to the main entrance, this was my chance to leave as well. But a niggling feel ticked at the back of my head, I couldn’t just leave.

Not when I could have been of use to everyone upstairs, so I decided to risk it and hang back a little longer.

“Two, Three clear up the stairs.” I heard seven said in amidst a load of gunfire.

Just then I heard the sirens, standing I saw the police cars stationing themselves outside. “Shit.”

I ran out to the lobby, I could either go outside and wait with Five for the others to arrive back at the car or I could go upstairs to help.

“Screw it.” I picked up the guys arm who was still lying at the bottom of the elevator and pressed his finger into the button.

“Zero were are you?” Five said frantically.

“What do you mean where is she, she’s supposed to be with you?!” One shouted.

“I thought she was right behind me, but am at the car and she isn’t here.”

I got my gun out of it’s holster, checking it was loaded, the safety was off. “Chill guys am in the elevator, am coming up to help. You’re out numbered.”

“NO.” Four Said firmly. “One stop her.”

“Zero you get your ass back down and out of this building right now.” One sounded angry.

“Listen if I go down now I’ll be arrested, so what am going to do. Instead I can be useful and come up to help you guys.” I said a bit too calmly.

“I don’t care if you get arrested, at least you won’t be dead. Which is what you’ll be if you come up here.”

I just laughed at one. “You’re not my dad one, besides. I can handle myself.”

Just then the doors to the elevator opened.

Chapter Eight

[doctordiscord123]

Slice of Strawberry Life

A continuation of this commission.

An expansion on Olivia’s relationship with some of the egos.

Commissioned by @ts-famderartist

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

Tags: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @smash-ash26 @bender-of-life @verse2wo @vociferous-chaos @he-is-me @itsjustkyss @takethepainawaybae @the-pan-anon @rottingmolars @revolutionbastard @toothfairy2298 @sororia04s @sirkawaiipotato @darkest-shade-of-light @bitchbyebibye @posts-random-art @xoskeletonkid

 Warnings: None  Pairings: Bim Trimmer/The King of the Squirrels, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache  Characters: Olivia (OC), Google, Bim Trimmer, The King of the Squirrels, Darkiplier, Wilford Warfstache  Word Count: 1503

Olivia sat at the kitchen island, kicking her feet idly as her frustration grew. She stared down at her homework, chewing on her eraser and twirling a bit of her strawberry hair on her finger. Why did math have to be so hard? She was only twelve, homework shouldn’t be this hard. It wasn’t fair. And she wasn’t allowed to play video games with the Jims or Bing until she was done… So, with a small sigh, she slipped from the stool, and poked her head out of the kitchen and into the living area. “Um…Google? Can you…help me?”

Google – who’d been sitting on a loveseat, eyes closed with blue light flickering across his eyelids – cracked one eye open, turning his head to face her. He gave her a smile, and picked up Bing – who’d been sprawled across his lap and playing some game with the Jims – in order to slip out from under him and moved towards her. “Of course. What do you need?”

“Um –” She blushed lightly, fiddling with her hair some more. “Can you…help me with my math homework? I’m – stuck…”

Google’s eyes flashed with obvious delight, going by the big grin that spread across his face, and he scooped her into his arms, chuckling at her little squeak. “Of course! Here, let me take a look –”

He took her seat at the island, and placed her in his lap, wrapping one arm around her waist to secure her before reaching for her pencil. He scanned her homework sheet, and erased – most of the work she’d struggled with, then proceeded to launch into patient, step-by-step instructions without ever actually giving her the answers, giving her back her pencil so she could work along with his words. She tried to follow along as best as she could, but somewhere along the line Google lost her, and then everything spiraled in her head, and she threw her pencil down, covering her eyes and suddenly close to tears. She drew a shaky breath, rubbing at her eyes with an upset sound. “I don’t get it! Why is it so hard? I hate math…”

She crossed her arms, trying desperately trying not to actually cry. As such, she missed Google’s raised eyebrow and his little smirk, at least, until he spoke. “I am made of math, Olivia.”

Her eyes widened, and she blushed lightly, fiddling with her hair again. “…Well I don’t hate you,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Google just chuckled again, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. “No need to apologize. Math is hard, you’re right. But it’s hard because it’s like learning a different language. There are different rules, and a different way you have to think. For some, other languages come easy, including math, just like some people are innately good at music, or writing, or –” He narrowed his eyes. “…whatever Bim and Wilford are.” Olivia giggled at that, and Google smiled. “Just because you’re not naturally good at something doesn’t mean you’re stupid or incapable. It just means you have to work a little harder than others.” His eyes flashed again, and he winked. “Lucky for you, you live with five androids whose first language is math. We’ll be happy to help whenever you get stuck.”

Olivia gave him a smile back, and she twisted around in his lap to hug him, burying her face in his chest. “…Thanks, Google.” She turned back around, reaching back for her pencil. “Can you…explain this one to me again?”

“Of course, Olivia.”

----------

‘Hey, you ready? My mom and I are outside.’

‘Hell yeah I am, hold on!’

Olivia scrambled off her bed and raced through the manor, grinning broadly. She skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs, and made to run out the front door, but – something told her if she didn’t tell someone she was leaving, she’d have a bunch of angry, overprotective men hunting her down. Even though she was fifteen and could take care of herself now. Still…she took a little detour, poking her head into the living area with a big smile, speaking fast. “Hey I’m leaving to go hang with my friends I’ll be back soon okay bye!”

She ducked back out of the living area, racing back for the foyer, but suddenly Bim was standing in front of her, hands on his hips and eyes narrowed. She couldn’t stop herself in time, running smack into him with a soft “oof” and his hands flying to her shoulders. “Ooooh no you don’t, Livi, where are you going? With who? How long? Did you finish your homework?”

Olivia rolled her eyes, shrugging off his hands. “I’m going to Jayden’s house, she and her mom are already outside, it’ll only be for a couple hours, and it’s Saturday, I don’t have homework.”

Bim’s eyes narrowed further, but he straightened, hands back on his hips. “…Which one’s Jayden?”

“Uh…the one with all the freckles and snorts when she laughs and seems to only own solid colored t-shirts?”

Bim snorted. “That one, okay, yeah, no, you’re staying right here, young lady.”

Olivia’s jaw dropped. “What – but – Bim! That’s not fair!”

He just raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you get for making plans without actually asking any of us, now –”

 “Come on, Bim, lighten up! Let her have some fun!” King was now poking his head out of the living room, smiling lightly with crown and glasses alike crooked. He walked over to them, laying a hand on Olivia’s shoulder.

Bim scowled. “No! She needs to learn discipline and – yeah!”

King smirked. “You’re the last person to teach her ‘discipline’, Bim.”

Bim’s jaw dropped with outrage, and he launched into an indignant speech, ranting and gesturing wildly and trying to justify that he was disciplined. King crouched down, keeping an eye to make sure he wasn’t paying attention, and whispered in Olivia’s ear. “I’ll distract him, you run for it, okay?”

She tried to stifle a giggle, face lighting up as she whispered back. “Okay!”

King winked, pressing a kiss to her hair, and then he was straightening. He said nothing, just grabbed Bim’s tie and pulled him into a kiss of their own. Bim shrieked, hands flailing, but King didn’t let him get away, and Bim eventually calmed down, melting into it. Olivia made a disgusted face at them as she bolted, flying out the front door. “Thanks, King!”

----------

Olivia bolted upright in her bed, head pounding, drenched in a cold sweat and breathing hard. She tried to calm down, tried to control her breathing, hands pulling at her hair, but she couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She…couldn’t remember her nightmare. She just…remembered feeling terrified, and abandoned, and alone. A thick, heavy dread was settled in her gut, slowly receding as her nightmare faded, but it was enough to make her crave someone else with her.

She swallowed, wiping away her tears, and slipped shakily out of bed. She stepped as quietly as she could as she moved down the hall of bedrooms, to the very end, sniffling all the while. She made to knock, but it was the middle of the night, and she didn’t want to wake anyone else up, so she elected to just – push open the door, slipping inside.

She couldn’t help but smile despite her fear at the sight of Wilford and Dark tangled together in bed. Wilford was snoring, loudly, and practically lying on top of Dark. Dark himself had his face turned to be buried in Wilford’s hair, one arm draped loosely over his husband and a foot dangling over the side of the bed. Olivia hesitantly stepped forward, to the bedside, and shook Dark’s shoulder. “…Dark?”

It took a minute, but Dark eventually began to stir, grumbling softly before blinking his eyes open and squinting at her. “Mm…yes pumpkin? Wha’ time issit…”

Olivia recoiled slightly. “…It’s the middle of the night. I just – I had a nightmare, and I didn’t want to be alone, and I know I’m sixteen, but – can…I sleep with you?”

Dark blinked once, then nudged Wilford with his elbow. Wilford didn’t move, snores just stuttering for a minute. “Wil. Wil, move over. Olivia wants in the bed.”

Wilford made an odd, slurred sound, just shifting more on top of Dark. “…Pretty gumdropsss…” His eyelids fluttered briefly. “…Dar’, why’re you made of…licorice…mm…”

Dark rolled his eyes, smiling sleepily as Olivia tried to stifle laughter. His aura shifted to life, lifting Wilford off of himself and depositing him gently on the other side of the bed. And then, it was wrapping around Olivia, lying her down between them, and she snuggled under the blankets, curling up in the warm spot Wilford had left behind. She closed her eyes, sighing softly. Exhaustion was catching back up with her, that residual fear and dread disappearing as Wilford snuggled close again, sandwiching her between the two. “…Thanks, Dad.”

Dark hummed, slinging an arm around them both. “…Anytime, pumpkin.”

[7-wonders]

Memento Mori

Summary: When being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands (Y/N) in the blood-stained hands of D.C.’s most notorious crime boss, Duncan Shepherd, she finds herself unexpectedly in his debt. Perhaps owing the dangerous man a favor would be more torturous if he weren’t so engaging.

Word Count: 3286

A/N: Here it is! The first chapter of my crime boss Duncan fic. I’m SO excited to share this labor of love with you all, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy it. Feedback is always much appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you left a like or a reblog.

(special thanks to Caitlin @divinelangdon for helping me with this!)

EDIT: *clears throat* as far as I am aware, Mallory @lvngdvns was the first to write a mob AU for THIS fandom. Thanks, Mal. I’d like to remind everyone that mob AUs are not a new concept, so y’all can hop off my dick.

Chapter 1: King of the Underground

It’s not a route that she would normally take home after classes, but today, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is running late. The maintenance man is supposed to be at her apartment to fix the kitchen sink in twenty minutes, and it will most assuredly be another week before he can repair it if she doesn’t get home to let him in. This shortcut, through alleyways and past abandoned buildings, is a tour of the dark underbelly of Washington D.C. It’s one that she doesn’t get to dwell on when running late; instead, she walks quickly and clutches her keys in her hand tightly, eyes up and darting back and forth vigilantly. 

After taking this way home twice previously to today, (Y/N) quickly learned which alleys to avoid and which were safer to go down. The alley next to the butcher was safe, the stench of rotting meat causing even the most nefarious of characters to stay away. Bypassing the bridge meant she could dodge the junkies that traded drugs and needles there, and the abandoned set of warehouses were considered too “haunted” and “creepy” for most to venture into. With the rain that drenches the city today and (Y/N)’s lack of an umbrella, these deserted buildings provide the perfect cover as she tries to race home.

(Y/N)’s never seen another person in or around this empty strip, only mice and other small creatures. That’s why it’s so shocking when, as she walks quickly along the back wall, she hears voices from one of the rooms. Ducking behind a wall, she peeks in through a crack in the boards that had hastily been put up to cover a large hole. 

It’s difficult for (Y/N) to comprehend what she’s seeing at first. A man with shaggy hair is on his knees, hands raised pleadingly in the air as he trembles. Others are positioned around the room, blocking exits and providing what she assumes is security. Security for what, she can’t be certain, since the most danger looks to be the man standing above what must be his prisoner. 

“You seem to think that I’m some sort of idiot, Malakai,” the man with the artfully messy brunette hair says nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. 

‘Malakai’ shakes his head furiously as he stutters, “No, sir, never!” The man in question walks a slow circle around his captive, teeth bared in a savage grin as he takes glee in the scared reaction that he evokes. 

“Hmm, then why did you believe that it wouldn’t get back to me that you were attempting to make deals with people who are determined to take me, and my family, down?” The hostage pales, obviously not thinking he knew. “An amateur mistake; somebody makes a deal, and they foolishly believe that I don’t have eyes and ears everywhere around this city.”

“I-it was an accident, Mr. Shepherd, I promise.” (Y/N) slaps a hand over her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatens to force its way out.

She hasn’t lived in Washington D.C. her entire life, having only moved to the area for school. However, even somebody from the other end of the country would know the Shepherd family name. Although it’s never been said outright, it’s very much implied that the powerful family is involved in more than just politics. Their sudden prominence within the circles of the elite, the roots that spread everywhere, their influence on matters that don’t pertain to politics: it’s easy to make the inference that the Shepherds are involved in some “darker” activities. 

(Y/N)’s heard rumors of what the Shepherd family is capable of. Drugs, weapons, disappearances, murder, and corruption are just the beginning of an extremely long list of grievances. This man, with his hand on his captive’s shoulder and a look that screams revenge, must be the head of the Shepherd family.

“An accident,” he teases, reassuming his previous spot in front of the man on his knees. “Unfortunately, you know all too well that we can’t have accidents.”

A gunshot cracks through the air, the bullet quickly and efficiently leaving a hole in the middle of ‘Malakai’s’ head. His eyes roll back into his head slowly as his body slumps forward, blood pooling from the wound on his head. The man who was doing the interrogating, Mr. Shepherd, glances disdainfully down at the blood before stepping back to avoid staining his shoes.

“I’ve told you time and time again that I don’t like a messy job, Langdon,” he calls to someone that (Y/N) can’t see. 

If (Y/N) hadn’t just witnessed a murder, her first time ever seeing someone’s life taken from them, she would stick around to see who he’s talking to. She stumbles back in shock, unable to take her eyes off of the corpse lying on the other side of the repaired wall. Since she’s not looking, she doesn’t see the mouse that scurries over her foot. The shriek of fear that she attempts to hold back isn’t as muffled as she thought it would be under her hand, causing the heads of everyone in the room to snap up as they look for the source of the sound. 

She holds her breath, hoping that the crack she was spying through is too small for somebody to look through if they’re not right up against it. Her heart, along with her hope, sinks when she makes eye contact with the pair of stormy blue eyes belonging to Mr. Shepherd.

“Shit,” he gasps. 

She runs before her brain even realizes what she’s doing, sprinting faster than she can remember running in a long time. Footsteps pound behind her, the echoing sound ironically reminding (Y/N) of gunshots. Once she bursts outside, she immediately searches for an exit that will give her the best chance of evading a horde of murderers. Ducking down, she crawls through a large gap in the bottom of a chain link fence. Those chasing her aren’t deterred, and one quick glance over her shoulder (stupid, she thinks, you’re lucky you didn’t trip over your own feet) confirms that they’ve decided jumping the fence is easier. 

(Y/N) skids to a stop when she sees that a brick wall blocks her path to freedom. Making a split-second decision, she climbs up onto the dumpster and jumps. Her hands make purchase on the lip of the brick wall, and she summons all of the upper-arm and core strength that she has to start pulling herself up and over. It’s a struggle, and she tries to keep her legs tucked to her chest to prevent whoever’s chasing her from grabbing at her. She’s underestimated how tall these men (or women) are, and shrieks when her nails claw at the brick as she’s yanked down from the wall.

Her head cracks painfully against the pavement as she’s unceremoniously thrown to the ground. Scrambling back on her elbows, (Y/N) stares up at the two burly men who have managed to get her before she could make it over the wall. Hoping that they’ll show her some mercy, she holds up her hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. The men look at each other for a moment, as if debating what to do with her, and (Y/N) watches them optimistically.

A swift punch to the face knocks her out.

//

She doesn’t jolt awake in one smooth movement, eyes wide and glancing fearfully around. Instead, conscious returns slowly for (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Like pieces of a puzzle being fitted together, the blackness that had enveloped her is replaced, bit by bit, by a state of awareness. She tries to move when she realizes that she’s awake, but her arms refuse. Cold bites at her wrists, the telltale weight of some sort of metal weighing her down. Although her neck aches when she turns her head, protesting after sleeping in such an awkward position, she looks down and notices that she’s handcuffed to a chair.

Blinking quickly to adjust her vision to the shadows that envelop everything, (Y/N) tries to steady her breathing and not panic as she catalogues the room. This definitely isn’t the same room where she saw a man murdered. It’s small, maybe 8x8, and everything’s made of concrete. The walls, the ceiling, the floors: the room looks to be the same flat gray color. A small cart sits in the corner of the room, the only other furnishing besides the chair (Y/N)’s currently bound to. She kicks her legs uselessly, huffing when she sees that they’re bound by rope. Not that her legs being freed would do anything, since the chair is bolted to the floor, but it would still be a bit of a comfort. 

She doesn’t need a mirror to know that there’s blood on her face, probably from the punch that knocked her out. Her nose feels off, like it was broken when she was hit. Maybe it is broken; of course, that won’t matter if she’s killed in this small room. 

Quick footsteps sound in whatever hallway connects to the room (Y/N)’s being held hostage in, making her stare at the door as she tries to figure out what’s going to happen. Will this person save her, free her from her binds and lead her out of this mess? Or will they end her life quickly, using whatever method this mafia decides to be quickest and easiest? 

The bright fluorescent lights flicker on as the door opens, momentarily blinding her. The man that stands before her is tall, his all-black ensemble making him look even more imposing. Two others, a man and a woman, stand behind him (the security detail for these deadly mafia personnel is a little ridiculous). He moves towards her slowly, each move calculated in its fluidity. What scares (Y/N) about this man isn’t the knife that he slowly twirls between his fingers; it’s his cold blue eyes that are completely devoid of any emotion.

His long blond hair, expertly draped over his shoulders, shines as he teasingly drags the flat edge of his knife down her cheek with a chilling smile. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble for my boss, are you aware of that?” 

“I promise you that I had no clue what was going to happen,” she says seriously, eyes wide and pleading. 

“That’s funny, all the little mice seem to say the same thing when they’re caught in a trap,” he hisses, tapping her nose harshly to make her wince in pain. “Now, you’re going to tell me who you’re working for, or your nose is going to be the least of your worries.”

“I’m not working for anybody,” (Y/N) insists. He nods as if he understands, but she can tell he’s only humoring her once he rears his hand back and smacks her across the face. 

Her ears ring as her vision whites out for a moment, leaving her unable to hear the cry of pain that rips from her chest. She’s bleeding, that much is obvious. The large rings on this man’s hand must have opened up a couple of cuts on her now-swollen lip. He smirks, tangling his fingers in her hair and yanking her head back. 

“I don’t like to repeat myself, (Y/N).” She doesn’t have time to wonder how he knows her name when she notices the knife he’s holding is now pressed against her chest. “Who do you work for?”

“Nobody, I promise! I was running late to get home--” shit, the maintenance man must be long gone by now, “--and I took a shortcut that I always take when I’m late. I had never seen somebody in that strip of warehouses before, so I stopped to see what was going on. I didn’t know what was happening until that guy got shot.”

“Well then, this must all be one big misunderstanding.”

She nods gratefully. “Yes! Thank you so much, you have no clue--” a searing pain erupts above her eyebrow, and she groans in pain. Her eyesight goes blurry in her left eye, and it’s only when she blinks enough to see the red tint that she realizes she’s bleeding.

(Y/N) watches in disgust as he lifts his stained knife to his lips and cleans the blood off of it with his tongue. He hums delightedly, leaning in close enough that his breath stings the array of cuts. His hot tongue laves at the still-bleeding cut, sampling her blood until it finally clots.

“Mmm, you’re just my type,” he jokes. In the blink of an eye, his amused expression changes to one of anger as he slams his hands on the arms of the chair. “Tell me who you work for!”

“I’ve already told you!” She earns another smack to the face for that, blood dribbling down her chin as she grimaces. 

“Langdon,” a voice sounds from the door that she hadn’t heard open, making (Y/N) jump in her restraints. The man that she saw interrogate his now-dead victim stands behind the blond, a hand rubbing at the stubble on his face. “What did I say about making messes?”

Langdon sighs, rolling his eyes. “But it’s just so much more fun when I get to spill a little blood.” Regardless of his personal feelings, he moves for the door when Mr. Shepherd gives him a pointed look.

(Y/N) glares at Mr. Shepherd as he examines her in silence once Langdon has left. The security, she notices with a sideways glance, remains posted against the door. He fiddles with the sleeves of his expensive leather jacket, and she hopes it’s her defiant look that’s making him show a trait very uncharacteristic to someone who’s supposed to be a mob boss.

“It’s a shame my associate felt the need to bloody up such a pretty face.” He goes to stroke his hand along her face, stopping when (Y/N)’s spit lands on his cheek. Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Now (Y/N), there’s no need to be so hostile.”

“Give me one good reason.”

He doesn’t speak, instead grabbing a key out of his pocket and unlocking the cuffs that bind her hands behind her back. They fall off easily with a quick shake of her wrists as she pulls them forward and rubs at the chapped skin there. Mr. Shepherd takes out a knife and kneels, cutting the ropes tying her feet together. It’s an obvious ploy at attempting to gain her trust, but it’s one that, she reluctantly admits, works. 

He holds out his hand, “Allow me to properly introduce myself. Duncan Shepherd.”

(Y/N) eyes his hand warily, hesitantly shaking it before snatching her hand out of his grip. “I would introduce myself, but you seem to already know who I am.” She falters when Duncan Shepherd sheathes his knife, thrown off by this sudden change. “You’re not...going to kill me? Or you are, just not with that.”

“It wasn’t at all difficult to find out everything about you from a few simple background checks. I figured, either you’re telling the truth or you’re the worst informant my enemies have hired yet.”

“You couldn’t have checked my identity before you sent your goon to rough me up?”

“I apologize for that, but it’s just protocol. As you may imagine, my profession leaves very little room for leeway.” Duncan smiles at her, setting his hands on the arms of the chair in the same way that Langdon did mere minutes before. “You do know what my profession is, don’t you (Y/N)?”

“Vaguely,” she says dryly, peeved at how he insists on repeating her name. “I’m not too acquainted with the sort of business you’re involved in.”

“So I heard,” he smirks. (Y/N) tries to steady her thumping heart, which had decided it was off to the races when Duncan’s eyes, which she could see now were varying shades of dark and light blue that created a hypnotic combination, twinkled in the fluorescent light and his smile showed off the slight dimple on his cheek. How pathetic of me, just because he’s cute doesn’t mean he’s not a mafia boss. “You really shouldn’t take shortcuts through notoriously bad areas. You never know what kind of trouble you could get into.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Duncan stands up straight, allowing (Y/N) to feel slightly more comfortable now that she’s not directly breathing the same air as he is. Frowning slightly, he turns to the security posted at the door and mutters something, the woman nodding and disappearing out of the door. (Y/N) and Duncan remain silent until she returns, a bowl of water and a clean towel in her hands. Taking the supplies from her, Duncan wrings the towel out and holds it out as an offering.

“Either you clean yourself up or I do it for you,” he says when he senses her reluctance, waiting expectantly until she finally gives in and grabs it from him. He watches her closely, examining every wince she makes as she tries to clean the blood off of her already-bruising face. “Hmm, now what do we do with you?”

The blood rushes out of (Y/N)’s face as her heart drops. “What do you mean? You know I’m telling the truth, so let me go.”

“I could do that, but you did witness a murder. Who’s to say that you won’t run to the police the second I let you walk outside?”

She wants to deny it and emphatically say that she would never do that, but they both know that would be a lie. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, (Y/N) thinks bitterly.

“The obvious answer, of course, would be to just kill you.” Duncan looks at her, taking pride in how she doesn’t even attempt to hide the fear on her face. “However, I believe you’ll be much more useful alive than dead.”

“‘Useful’ how?” Everything she’s seen in movies and TV shows about the mafia has her mind racing with the worst possible thoughts.

He ignores (Y/N)’s question, choosing instead to pull himself to his full height in some sort of a power move. “Prove to me that you won’t go to the authorities, and this whole matter will be forgotten.”

“How am I ever supposed to prove that to you?” (Y/N) asks hopelessly. 

He shrugs. “We’ll find something that benefits the both of us.” At the horrified look on her face, Duncan shakes his head quickly. “No, nothing like that. I may be the head of one of the most influential families in Washington D.C., but I’m still a gentleman.”

“So then…”

“Think of it like running errands. Collecting dues, running product, gathering information on my behalf. You’d make a good little spy if you had the right training.” He goes to touch (Y/N)’s cheek, and she smacks his hand away belligerently.

“Don’t,” she warns. Duncan takes a step back, holding his hands up to teasingly show his harmlessness before he folds them behind his back.

“My associates will be in touch when we get something worked out.”

“Wait!” 

Duncan ignores her call, instead motioning to his security to open the door for him. Before he makes his exit, he whispers something to the male guard. With one last nod of acknowledgement in (Y/N)’s direction, Duncan leaves her alone in the room again. This time, her vision isn’t cut off with a punch; it’s with a black cloth bag forced over her head.

//

Tag List: @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @mega-combusken @michaelsapostle @hecohansen31 @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @divinelangdon @lvngdvns @wroteclassicaly @venusxxlangdon 

[jayofmemory]

Fallen Hero [Lost Souls AU]

Here’s the first thing I managed to write for this AU! It’s so new but I love it so much already. Just be warned, this particular chapter is warning heavy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: war, explosion burns, character death

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Henrik sat cross-legged on the dirt watching as another doctor wrapped a bandage around a soldier’s face, eyes blank and studying. Since this was his first month on a battlefield, he was still inexperienced in the ways of actually helping the injured. A voice in the back of his head said this was wrong, he shouldn’t be here. He hated wars. He was only 19. It was very likely that he could die before he even reached 20. The voice stopped when one of his fellow classmates who got drafted before him popped into the room.

“Henrik, we need you out there!” He yelled before dashing back out. Henrik grabbed his bag and ran after him. As soon as he walked outside, he was hit by the smell of blood and gunpowder, and his heart sank. He followed his classmate quickly, ducking behind dying trees and destroyed walls, and flinching away from explosions nearby. There was so much dirt getting kicked up and smoke from the fires that it was hard to see who was on which side. But somehow those who were fighting just knew. He just needed to follow orders and help the wounded.

His classmate stopped and pointed to an open part of the field where a soldier was pulling a wounded one in their direction. He felt a light push on his back and looked back to see his classmate nod at him then nodded at the other two in the field. Henrik got the message. You are new, disposable. But you are young and fast. Go help them. Henrik turned around and sprinted out to where the other two men were. However, just before he got there, the one dragging the wounded one got shot and fell over. Henrik skids to a stop and ran back.

“Why did you come back without him?!?” The classmate yelled.

“He- the other one got shot! If I went to help then I’d be shot too!”

“You’re useless! If you’d gotten there faster he wouldn’t be dead! Get back out there and grab the lieutenant!” The classmate pushed him out of the protection of the wall and Henrik stumbled in shock. That was the lieutenant? He turned around and began to run when he saw a soldier from the opposite side hide behind another nearby wall. They locked eyes for a moment and Henrik noticed he looked around the same age as him. Suddenly there was a whistling sound to his left and they both looked to the side before the boy yelled to him.

“Oi look out!”

Henrik looked back in confusion to see the boy rushing at him, eyes quickly moving between Henrik and whatever was making that noise. The boy’s arm collided with him as an explosive hit the ground really close to them and exploded. There was a blast of warm air and a glimpse of blue, then Henrik passed out.

-- -- --

The first thing Henrik noticed when he regained consciousness was how quiet it was. The only thing he heard was small booms in the distance and the wind blowing through the grass around him. Then he opened his eyes and saw the smoke that was blowing overhead, greying out the darkening blue sky. Suddenly, pain shot through his body from his face, neck, and chest. He tried to stop himself from yelling by gritting his teeth. Tears formed in his eyes, which were now shut tight and he noticed that when they fell that the water didn’t make the pain worse, so whatever was hurting was not near his eyes. He attempted to move his arms to try to feel around but noticed that something was holding his right arm down. He opened his eyes again and struggled through the pain of moving his neck to look down.

The boy who had jumped out in front of him was now laying on his arm, arm outstretched across his chest. He noticed the boy’s eyes were still open and tried to call out to him, hoping that his thick German accent wouldn’t interfere with understanding his rough English.

“Hey-” The dust in the air made him cough, which made pain shoot through him again. He groaned and tried again. “Hey, you okay? Hey kid!”

When he got no response he looked down again and noted the severe burn marks all over the boy’s shoulder and back. Then he saw the burn marks on his own chest, but there was something weird about the shape. It was almost like- Henrik looked at the boy’s outstretched arm and his eyes widened as his hypothesis was confirmed.

“He used his hand… to cover my heart…” He whispered in disbelief. “Why? Why would you- I’m your enemy!”

Still no response. “You’re not already…” Henrik lifted his free hand and moved it under the boy’s outstretched hand, careful to avoid burns, and checked his pulse via his wrist, none there. He moved his hand to the boy’s neck and checked there, still nothing. He let his arms fall to where it was laying before and sighed, a new tear falling down his cheek, but not from the pain of the burns this time.

“Why… why would you sacrifice yourself for the enemy… we don’t even know each other… you had no reason to…” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

There was a boom nearby and Henrik jumped. When he looked to the side he saw what looked like a huge fire beyond the collapsed part of a wall near him. The fire almost immediately went out and Henrik’s curiosity overtook his worry about his burns and he shifted to a sitting position, gently slipping the boy off of him. When he looked over the wall, he saw what looked like a regular man standing in the middle of the battlefield, looking around. However there were some strange things about him. For one, his hair was long and green, tied up in a braided bun. His fashion was also quite strange and definitely not meant for the battlefield. His white top was completely open in the back and looked fragile. His black pants nearly melted into his boots, and he had a few bracelets on his wrists. He looked to be a bit older than Henrik since he had a pretty good beard in the making. Henrik was so busy studying the strange man that he didn’t notice when he was looking back at him. He tilted his head and started walking over. Henrik didn’t sense any malice from him, so he stayed visible but cautious. When the man got close, Henrik noted probably the strangest thing about him, his eyes were violet and glowing slightly.

“Who are you? Vhat are you?” Henrik asked, gently pulling the boy closer to him as if he needed to protect someone who was already dead. The man smirked, finally getting to the wall.

“Smart one, ain’tcha? Although I suppose it’s my fault that I didn’t disguise my appearance. See, I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone alive to still be here. So why are you still here? You don’t look too ba-” He cut himself off when he saw the other boy laying next to him. “Oh.”

The man hopped over the broken wall and motioned to Henrik. “You can lay down kid, you don’t want to strain yourself even more, you ain’t dead yet.” Henrik looked at him for a moment before carefully lowering himself again and wincing at the pain.

“Are you going to answer my questions?”

“Oh right! I am Marvin! I’m a human and Phoenix hybrid. How about you kid?”

Henrik raised an eyebrow. “A Fe- vhat?”

“A Phoenix! P-H-O-E-N-I-X.” As he finished spelling, two bright glowing wings erupted from his back and Henrik yelped. Marvin laughed at his reaction. “Oh that never gets old….”

Henrik’s eyes widened. “A-are you an angel?!?”

“Not re-”

“Can you heal him?” He gestured at the boy and Marvin paused.

“He’s already dead, you know that right?”

“Can you heal him.” Henrik said, less as an ask and more as a demand.

Curious, Marvin looked at him before crouching down and waving his hand an inch over the boy’s back. “I can heal all of his injuries and possibly even bring him back if it hasn’t been too long since he died. Considering you’re still alive, I’m guessing it’s only been an hour or two. However, I do have to ask, why do you want him back? Is he a close friend? A brother? A fellow soldier?”

“No. I don’t know who he is. But he lost his life to save mine. I want to know why, and pay back the debt.” Marvin’s eyes widened and he grinned.

“Interesting! Very well, I will help him. And a little extra for you too cause you interest me.”

Henrik felt a wave of heat wash over him as a soft green light filled his vision, but it didn’t burn. He finally relaxed completely and felt his eyes slipping closed, but willed himself to stay awake despite how soothing the light was. There was a small prick in his forehead and he noticed some pieces of glass floating away before fading into nothingness. Drat, I guess my glasses broke. He thought. He looked up at the sky again, noticing that as it was getting darker and that he could start to see some stars. He smiled softly for the first time in… years probably. As the light faded Henrik began to feel just how cold his bare chest was a sat up. He looked down and noticed the worst of the burns were now not much more than pink scars against his pale skin.

“Finished!” Marvin gasped, sitting down on the grass and rubbing his forehead with his shirt.

Henrik moved next to the boy and gently touched his back and noticed his scars were the same. His eyes widened when he felt the small rise and fall of his breathing and looked up at Marvin. “You really did it… Thank you, Marvin.”

Marvin grinned and nodded but was interrupted by the boy mumble and wake up before shooting to his feet surprisingly quick.

“WOAH! What the- oh hey!” He stopped when he saw Henrik looking up at him surprised. “What happened to your shirt?” He pointed and noticed the scars on his hand. He looked at them with a troubled look before looking back at the others, noticing Marvin’s wings and becoming worried. “I didn’t- are we dead? But I thought I could-”

“Oh no, you’re not dead!” Marvin interrupted. “I healed you both and brought you back. And no I’m not an angel, I’m part Phoenix - firebird - whatever. The name’s Marvin.”

“Oh! Oh good…” The boy visibly relaxed in relief before looking back at Henrik. “Oh yeah, my name is Jackie! I never introduced myself.”

“Henrik…” Jackie tilted his head when he noticed Henrik studying him. “Jackie, why did you jump out in front of me? We’re on the opposite sides of this war.”

Jackie’s smile faded before coming back as a shy smirk. “I… don’t care what side you’re on. I never wanted to be in this war. If I can save someone, I will. No matter the cost.”

Henrik looked at him surprised before standing up. Marvin felt awkward being the only one on the ground and stood up too. Jackie looked at him before laughing a little. “You’re short!”

“Hey!” Marvin huffed, getting flustered. “I saved your life! How about some respect?!”

“Sorry sorry, you just caught me off guard. Truly, thank you.” Jackie shifted on his feet. “I feel kind of bad just taking your kindness and not giving anything in return… is there anything I can do to pay you back?” Henrik nodded in agreement.

Marvin thought for a little bit before an idea came to his mind. “Traveling can be kind of lonely, would you two like to come with me? You two are both still very young for humans and with the little bonus I gave you when I healed you both, you’d last even longer than most other humans who’ve existed.”

Henrik and Jackie exchanged a look before they looked back at Marvin. “Sounds good.”

Marvin grinned, excited to finally have some adventure buddies.

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I’m definitely going to be making more for this au, so if you want to be added to the Lost Souls AU taglist, feel free to dm or send in an ask!

also please let me know if I need to tag any more trigger warnings

And don’t worry, I’m still working on stuff for the Branded AU, it's just that inspiration for that is kinda slow and all I have is parts of multiple fics in the making, nothing finished yet. If you’re new and want to be added to that taglist too, feel free to dm or send in an ask!

Just make sure to specify which au you’d like to be added to the taglist for ^^

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (11)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of depression. Some pretty heavy sads. 

A/N: Flashback time. Grief can be all consuming and overwhelming. This time, we follow her while she tries to learn how to live again, before a night in 1946 changes everything. 

And again...I am sorry.

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

In her hand, is a ripped piece of faded blue cloth, with a familiar gray patch sewn into it; smudgy rust-red splotches color the edges like fingerprints.

Wings. Gray wings. Nostalgically familiar, because back in the war, each of the Howling Commandos wore one on their left sleeve, a mirror image tribute to the one painted on Steve’s helmet.

Including Bucky. Who wore one on the left sleeve of his coat.

The left sleeve of his blue coat.

Now, he stares uncomprehendingly at the piece of cloth. “What - “ he starts, but his voice fades. Small shivers are running through her body as she watches him, her face filled with dread. Taking a shaky breath, she whispers.

“There was one other time we met.”

*****

February 1945

The telegram informing her of Bucky’s death, written in Steve Rogers’ messy, cursive scrawl, sits on her kitchen table for a week. Across the creamy white paper are crinkled watermarks and trickles of black ink, where the paper swallowed her teardrops and bled out the sorrow of Steve’s words. One night, in a fit of anger, she tears it to shreds and feeds each piece to the hungry flames licking up the stone wall of her fireplace. There is immediate relief at the words disappearing, but even without their physical presence, the grief always returns.

March 1945

The plush wool feels soft in her hands. A week after his last visit, she saw the bundle in a storefront and bartered two of her old dresses for it; the color was a simple heather gray, but she knew it would look perfect against the deep blue of his coat. Every evening, she would knit until her fingers ached, but in a few weeks, she had a thick wool scarf, one of her old hair ribbons tied around it for a bow. She thought she would keep it as his birthday gift. Now, on what would have been Bucky’s 28th birthday, she wraps it around her neck and crawls into bed. Sleep doesn’t come, but every memory of him arrives like a fresh bullet, punched clean through her chest.

May 1945

Over! The war is over! Relieved cries reverberate through the town when VE Day arrives, children running down streets screaming with excitement, mothers and widows weeping joyously in the streets. Healing will take decades, but with those words, the world begins to plan for what comes next. Life is breathed back into the village and in the crowded town square, she lifts her face to the sunshine and closes her eyes. Fingers the chain around her neck holding the St. Michael medal Bucky gave her for their engagement, and wonders if she will ever be warm again.

July 1945

Wildflowers grow in riotous bursts of yellow and red and purple, filling the space behind her chicken coop with color. Laying amid the blooms, she sits in the baking summer sun, tracing her fingers over the colorful images on the postcards Bucky gave her. She thinks about traveling. About visiting those places, seeing them with new eyes, free from war. When she looks at the Brooklyn postcard, she wonders about visiting his family, but then she sees the crooked hearts he drew on the back, and she knows it would be too much. She puts the cards away.

September 1945

Leaves begin to fall, carpeting the grassy bank near the stream. Going through the motions, she dumps clothes from her basket, dunking them in the gurgling water, scrubbing them clean under crystal clear moonlight. Humming under her breath, she sings to pass the time, but the only words she can find are the ones she sang the first night Bucky found her by the creek and walked her home. We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. It hurts too much, so she just stops singing.

October 1945

Soldiers have been returning for weeks. Gaunt and haunted, new men arrive every few days, and do their best to pick up the threads of their old lives. One Saturday morning, she walks through the stalls of the market, examining produce and talking with the vendors. A young soldier steps aside to let her pass, quickly pulling off his hat and smiling. Offering a quiet hello in response, she finishes her shopping and leaves; the soldier jogs after her and nervously asks, could he perhaps walk her home? The earnest look in his eyes is so familiar, it makes her sick. She gently tells him no.

December 1945

Taking a sharp kitchen knife, she goes into the trees and cuts an armful of pine boughs. She spreads them through her house, taking deep breaths of the sharp, piney scent. In the white vase on her table, she tucks them carefully in place and adds a small sprig of holly, the red berries shining brightly. Curled in the armchair beside her fire, she drinks tea and listens to the staticky crackle of Christmas hymns on her new radio. It’s a daily battle, but it happens. Life really does go on.

February 1946

Coming home late one evening, she unlocks her back door and hangs her coat in the hallway. Rubbing chilly hands together, she walks into her kitchen and turns on the light. She skids to a stop. Filling the small space, are two hulking men dressed in black. One steps forward and quickly grabs her arms, while the other plays with a length of rope and smiles at her. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone wants a word.”

There’s a cursory struggle, but she doesn’t fight hard. She thinks to herself, if they kill her, maybe she’ll see Bucky on the other side.

That thought makes her smile, before the world goes dark.

*****

For the second time in her life, she awakens in a cold cell. Stretching her aching limps, she knows immediately this most certainly isn’t heaven.

Hell has a very specific look to it. One she knows far too intimately by now.

The small cell is clean, containing a lumpy bed and a worn blanket; in the corner is a pitcher of water and a bucket, and high on the wall is a small window letting in slivers of light. Her hands are bound in front of her, rough pieces of rope looped so tight around her wrists, the skin has rubbed itself raw. Blood soaks into the bristly rope fibers, staining it with streaks of black.

Where is she this time?

Leaning back against the wall, she blows out a long breath and there’s a strange satisfaction in her realization.

She just doesn’t care.

*****

Hours or maybe days later, her door creaks open. Outlined in the doorframe, is a tall Hydra guard dressed all in black, a mask over his face, a pair of reflective goggles covering his eyes. When he sees her, the gun in his hands trembles the slightest bit, before it steadies once more.

So, she thinks. Here it comes.

Motioning with the gun, the guard indicates she should stand, but she mutinously stays on the bed. If she has to go, she will be defiant to the end.

Stepping forward, he hesitates briefly, before grasping the rope and jerking her to her feet. Balancing his gun at the back of her neck, he pushes her forward.

Down a long hall they go, moving through a set of wooden doors. With a mute resistance, she refuses to walk, forcing him to physically drag her instead. Finally, he simply picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, stalking down the hallway with a series of breathless grunts.

She kicks him the entire way.

When he arrives at a heavy oak door, he bangs three times and throws it open.

The room is surprising. This is no torture chamber, filled with metal tables and metal chairs and the metallic taste of electricity on her tongue. It is warm and cozy, a roaring fireplace on one wall, armchairs strewn casually around, tall shelves lined with books. 

In the middle of the room, stands Colonel Richter, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Please, come in,” he says cordially, laughter in his voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The guard dumps her in a sprawling heap and departs. In the flickering firelight, she struggles awkwardly to her feet and readies for battle.

“You again. What do you want? You know I won’t help you,” she snaps, her eyes roaming around the room, searching for threats.

Richter looks amused. Sipping his whiskey, he comes slowly closer until he is only inches from her face.

“First things first. Before, when you stole away in the dead of night - that was a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The quick crack of his backhand sends her stumbling sideways. The heavy ring he wears rips open a fat gash on her cheek and she instantly feels blood begin to ooze.

“Such language for a lady. Did you learn that from him? Let’s try again, shall we? I have a story for you and I’d like you to listen,” he says. “A few months ago, we were working on him and in the middle of one of his delirious rants, I hear something interesting. Can you guess?”

Glaring at him, she remains silent.

“No guesses?” he grins, raising his eyebrows. “Alright then. Through all the screaming and crying, I hear him say your god damn name. Imagine my surprise.”

The first prickles of confused fear skate up her back. “What the hell are you talking about?” she spits out.

“It took some digging, but we managed to trace the path he and that wretched group of assholes from his unit made the last couple years of the war. I sent a few search parties out, and low and behold - here you are.”

Bucky told her once, how he and Captain Rogers parachuted from an airplane. She remembers him laughing about the free-fall, how it made his stomach swoop in a million directions. That feeling of free-falling sweeps over her now, turning her blood to ice.

“What do you mean? Who?”

Richter smiles widely, his eyes gleaming. Grabbing the bloody ropes around her wrists, he yanks her forward and pushes her into the shadowy corner of the room.

“Wait here. I have a surprise for you.”

Outside the door, she hears voices arguing. The scuffle of feet and the sharp bite of an angry voice. Suddenly, the door swings open and four guards enter, dragging a fifth man.

From the dark shadows, she muffles a scream.

Bucky looks exhausted. Dressed in a long-sleeved green shirt and ragged brown pants, he’s thinner than the last time she saw him. Rings of black circle his eyes, the vibrant blue now dull and listless. All his beautiful dark hair has been buzzed short and she can see bloody sores scabbing over along his temples. The left sleeve of his wool shirt is empty, pinned up at his shoulder and his right arm is tucked behind him, a leather strap looped around his wrist and stretched across his chest, keeping his good arm immobile.

“You didn’t tell me it was a party,” he rasps mockingly. “I would’ve put on my fancy clothes.”

One of the guards grabs a fistful of his shirt and drags him closer. “Jesus Christ, I am so fucking sick of your fucking mouth,” he sneers and Bucky shoots him a cocky grin.

“Sweetheart, you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he stage-whispers. In the blink of an eye, the guard draws back his arm and smashes his fist into Bucky’s face. Dropping to his knees, Bucky’s mocking laugh turns into a rattling cough that comes up with a spray of blood and he spits strings of red on the floor. “Like being kissed by your mom,” he says weakly.

Swearing ferociously, the guard moves to kick him, but Richter holds up his hand.

“For god’s sake, every fucking time. You know he does this, why do you let him get to you?”

The guard is visibly furious, but he says nothing. Instead, he grabs Bucky by the back of his shirt, hauling him roughly to his feet. Bucky sways precariously, before he finds his balance. Taking several deep breaths, he fixes his mouth back into that mocking smirk and lifts his chin.

“Evening boys. What the fuck can I do for you today?”

Richter gives him a congenial smile. “We have a visitor tonight. I thought perhaps you’d like to meet her.”

Bucky barks out a hollow laugh. “I sincerely fuckin’ doubt that.”

Richter’s smile grows impossibly larger. “Well, let’s see, shall we?”

Pulling her from the shadows, he throws her forward and she stumbles into the light.

Here’s the thing.

Bucky Barnes is so weak, he can barely stay on his feet. For the last five days, he’s eaten nothing more than a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. When he walks, he greatly favors his right side, still unbalanced by the loss of his left arm even a year later, and when he speaks, his voice has a perpetually guttural sound, his vocal cords shredded from months of screaming. Sprinkled across his shaved head, are a mess of pink scars where the dull razor blades they used bit cruelly into his scalp.

He looks exactly as one would expect. A prisoner of war.

For weeks, he’s been on the verge of collapse, but the moment he sees her, none of that matters.

Horrified disbelief fills his face and his eyes flick from the tears on her face, to the trickle of blood down her cheek, to the blood-soaked ropes around her wrists.

With a feral howl, he lunges toward her.

Throwing off the shocked guards at his side, he head-butts the man in front of him, sending him flying back. With a well-aimed kick, he knocks the legs from under the fourth guard and the man falls hard, before Bucky levels a savage kick to his head.

Richter laughs delightedly as he watches the show, until Bucky rushes for him. Lifting his gun, he sets it casually against her temple and cocks it. At the click of the hammer, Bucky skids to a stop, his mouth still twisted in a vicious snarl. Sweat dripping down his face, blood dripping from his busted lip, his chest heaves furiously.

“You god damn motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit, you let her go. Let her fuckin’ go, or I’ll fuckin’ gut you.”

“I thought so,” Richter says smugly. “So, our Soldier has something to fight for. How utterly inconvenient.”

“You’re god damn straight I fuckin’ do,” Bucky hisses, staggering under the rush of adrenaline. “Hurt her and I swear to god, I swear to fuckin’ god, I will slit your fuckin’ throat.”

With a dramatic sigh, Richter keeps his eyes on Bucky and bends down to speak in her ear.

“Apparently this one’s special, fights harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. Every time we wipe him, every memory comes back in a couple days. I don’t know what Zola did to him, but his brain fixes it too fast. Basically, he just won't fucking stay down.”

“Fuck no I won’t,” Bucky interrupts.

“See what I mean? You know what happened last time,” Richter says softly, his breath hot in her ear. “I don’t care if he is Zola’s little pet, he’s a wild fucking animal and I’m not above putting him down. So here we are. You fix him or I kill him. Your choice.”

“What the fuck is he talking about,” Bucky asks, looking directly at her now. “What - darlin, what the hell does he mean?”

Looking into his eyes, she thinks about that lovely blue. For the rest of her life, she knows she will see it everywhere. In everything.

Behind him, the guard he head-butted lumbers to his feet and manages to get his forearm locked around Bucky’s neck. 

Richter stands behind her, waiting. Against her skin, he presses a light kiss and she shudders at the hideous feel.

“Come now. You love him, don’t you? Do the right thing.”

Clasped in a tight chokehold, she can see Bucky’s face turning red as he splutters for breath.

“No,” she chokes out. “I won’t. I won’t.”

Cruel fingers dig into the back of her neck and he hisses in her ear. “If you say no, I will put him in that chair and fry his fucking brain every single day for the rest of his life and I will make you watch. Even if he heals fast, he still screams like a baby. Trust me on that one.”

Bucky is still fighting, his throat working uselessly as he tries to draw a breath.

Every scenario, every choice, every possibility, flies through her head. Trying desperately to come up with a solution, with a way to save them both, she thinks and thinks and thinks.

And she comes up empty, because the answer is simple.

There is no solution.

There is no solution.

Then what choice does she have?

She remembers the parade of men from before, the sound of their screams as the chair rocked bolts of electricity through them again and again. The thought of Bucky strapped in that chair, his body convulsing as the electric currents wrack his body, as he screams for her to help him - it is inconceivable. She knows what she has to do. She knows.

What choice does she have?

“Yes,” she sobs, her eyes filling with tears. “Fine, yes, I’ll do it, please just - let him go.”

Motioning to the guard, Richter points at the floor. The man releases his death-grip on Bucky’s throat, kicking his feet from under him and Bucky falls hard to his knees. Wrenching herself from Richter’s harsh grip, she rushes to catch him before Bucky’s face hits the floor.

“You have one minute,” Richter warns, fading into the shadows of the dark room. “And then you do it. If you leave anything behind again, I will kill him.”

After everything, here they are. Together.

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, the warm light cocoons them in their own world, one last time.

Bucky rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes when she cradles his thin frame against her. In the quiet room, his short, shallow breaths echo raggedly. Carefully, she runs her fingers soothingly up his neck, over the spiky tufts of dark hair and his body wilts in her tight embrace.

Sighing wearily, he picks his head up and touches his forehead to hers. Cupping his face, she brushes her fingers over the scratchy stubble lining his sunken cheeks and he gives her a rueful smile.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking. You okay with a one-armed husband?” he breathes. “Promise I can still love you just as hard.”

Tears streaming down her face, she returns his smile. “I love it. It makes you look dashing.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” he replies, pushing his nose against hers. Precious seconds slip by as they sit in silence, breathing each other in. Both trying their damndest to remember everything about the other, before they lose it all. Finally, she whispers her favorite words in his ear.

“I love you, Bucky.”

He hums contentedly and smiles. “I love you too. Don’t ever forget it, okay? I know I won’t.”

It takes every last drop of willpower for her not break down. Because he will forget. He will forget, and she will make certain that he does.

Rubbing her cheek against his, she presses her lips to the shell of his ear, giving him one more thing that the rest of the world cannot take. Something that is theirs, and theirs alone.

“You’re everything for me, Bucky Barnes. You’re the love of my life,” she murmurs, and he leans his head against her. When he opens his eyes, she finds an endless ocean of sadness pouring from the blue depths and he speaks quickly under his breath.

“Listen to me. Whatever happens, I need you to do something for me, okay?” The desperate urgency in his voice makes her heart skip. “No matter what happens, don’t you dare stay here. I can see it in your face honey, don’t you stay here, stuck in this room inside your head, thinking you could’ve done something different. You understand me?”

Swallowing hard, she tries to answer, but he cuts her off. The words are full of fear, holding a message he needs her to accept. “Please, I’m begging you. When you get out of here, you find a way to go on. Find a way to live.”

Losing him again will break her. That fact is as certain as the sun rising in the east.

There’s no way she can do this again, but in her heart, she knows that’s not what he needs. He needs her to agree, he needs her to try, and if she has to send his mind into a graveyard of buried memories, at least she can do this one thing for him.

She owes their love that much.

“I will,” she says. “I promise, I will.”

“That’s my girl,” he whispers with a tired smile. Staring into his eyes, she does everything she can to memorize the love she finds there, before Bucky gives her a crooked smile and tells her one more secret. “You know what? I don’t regret anything that happened. If I had to do it all over, I wouldn’t change one damn thing. It all led me to you, and I’ll remember every piece of us to the end. Because this kind of love, it never leaves. Right?”

“No, it never leaves,” she echoes. Placing her hands on his cheeks, she kisses him full on the mouth, tasting blood and salt and love, trying with her whole heart to carve even a small bit of herself into his bones.

Breaking the kiss, her heart plummets at the sight of his sweet smile.

Blinking away her tears, she takes a deep breath.

And then she tears her entire world apart.

Surprise fills Bucky’s face when he feels the heat begin to pulse from her hands, when he sees the soft glow of white light from her fingers. Watching her in confusion, his lips part as though he wants to say something, but no words come. Concentrating harder than she ever has before, she gathers everything, all those beautiful memories that make Bucky Barnes the man he has become and she wipes them all away.

All his stories about the Howling Commandos. That spring day he caught a foul ball at a Dodgers game. Steve Rogers’ floppy blond hair shining in the summer sun at Coney Island. The way his mother sang while she baked, and the fairytales he read his sister before bed. How he felt looking in the mirror the first time he put on his uniform, pale and scared to death. Watching a brilliant red sun sinking in the ocean, the day he sailed for England. Every memory he has of her. The thrill of their first kiss and the way she held his arm when he walked her home from church  and the first time they made love and how nervous he felt asking her to marry him.

How god damn much he loves her.

Every colorful memory he owns, she siphons away. Nothing is left behind, because this time, she can take no chances.

The white light burns hotter, so bright Bucky squeezes his eyes closed and still she watches him through it all, until finally, finally, finally -

She lets go.

Bucky slumps unconscious, his chin tucked to his chest. Pressing one final kiss to his forehead, her silent tears splash to the floor. She wants to stay forever, to be there when he opens his eyes, to force herself back into this new life, to make him remember her. To make him remember who they are together.

My god. Oh my god, what has she done.

Before she can say a word, the guards rip him from her arms. Dragging him away, his head lolls to the side and the last thing she sees, before they exit the room, are Bucky’s eyes beginning to flutter open.

“Wait -“ she says, panic filling every last cell in her body, “no, please wait, don’t - please, where are you taking him?”

“He has work to do,” Richter says dismissively.

Sick with heartbreak and drowning in regret, she remains kneeling on the floor, and every last piece of her soul shatters.

*****

Day later, there’s a screech of metal, and her door bangs open.

Richter saunters in, a length of cloth folded over his arm. Behind him, is the Hydra guard who escorted her from her cell last time, his gun cocked and aimed.

Caked in dried mud and an obscene amount of blood, the bright blue of Bucky’s Howlie jacket is nearly unrecognizable. The left arm is mostly torn away, the thick material hanging in ragged strips below the elbow. With a grunt, Richter tears away a piece of fabric at the shoulder and tosses it at her.

“Here. Thought you might want this,” he says coldly.

At her feet, the cloth looks dark and dirty, but in the midst of grimy blue, she sees the gray wings Bucky had sewn into his jacket sleeve. She remembers tracing her fingers over them, asking what they meant. Bucky had grinned, his chest swelling with a bit of pride, before he wove tales for her about the Howling Commandos. He glossed over their missions and focused on the men instead, and she remembers how wonderfully he could tell a story. The small bits of humor he found amid the bleakness of war painted a bright world for her to see.

Now, she picks it up, touching the rusty-red smudges lining the edges of the wings. She looks up at him.

“Why?”

Richter says nothing, but a grim smile pulls at his lips. He draws out the pause, savoring the expectation in her face, before carelessly dropping a bomb.

“Zola lost him during a routine experiment. He coded on the table. Guess we haven’t made our soldiers as durable as we need just yet.”

This bomb, it finishes the job Steve’s telegram began. For the second time, she learns the love of her life is dead and now there is nothing but cold emptiness where her heart used to be.

“We no longer require your services. We have a new machine that should work just fine,” he tilts his head, looking down at her. “But thank you for your help.”

Spinning on his heel, he shoves the remains of the blue coat at the guard still waiting in the doorway.

“Burn it,” he orders. “And leave her here to rot.”

The door bangs shut and the lock clicks with a sickening finality.

*****

No food. No water.

For two days, she hears footsteps marching back and forth in front of her door. Something seems to be happening, but through it all, no one pays attention to the woman locked in the cell at the end of the hall, waiting to die.

In her dreams, she sees Bucky strapped to a table exactly like the one they used for her. Was he scared? Did he go willingly or did he fight? Did it happen quickly? Did it hurt? Did he realize what was happening before his heart stopped?

Was there any part of him, maybe buried deep down, that loved her to the end?

She dismisses that last thought. No, of course there wasn’t. She made sure of that fact.

In a strange way, she finds a perverse relief in Bucky’s death. At least this way, he will never know how she betrayed him.

Perhaps if there is an afterlife, someday she can find him there and beg his forgiveness.

On the morning of the third day, sunlight flows through the rectangular window near the ceiling and she waits on her bed. For someone to come. Anyone. To save her. To kill her. Either would work, she’s not picky. Watching the slow crawl of sunlight move across the floor, she counts the minutes, until she notices something peculiar.

Silence.

Sitting up takes a massive effort and rising to her feet almost knocks her out. Knees wobbling dangerously, her sweaty hand presses to the wall for balance, and she stumbles to the door.

“Hello?” she croaks, but it comes as nothing more than a rough whisper. Wrapping her fingers around the bars of the door, she rests her forehead against the cold metal. Summoning her strength, she tries again. “Is anyone there?”

Silence.

No one answers. No lights illuminate the hallway. There is no hum of electricity, no sound of a distant radio playing, no raucous laughter. There is no one there.

So. They left her to die then.

Angry tears fill her eyes, and she bangs a weak fist on the door. Without expecting a solution, she grabs the door handle and rattles it, hot tears spilling over and streaking through the dirt on her cheeks.

But miraculously - the door opens.

Stepping cautiously into the doorway, she scans the hallway and finds nothing. Perplexed, she looks down and her confusion grows. Outside the door, a cloth bundle is propped against the wall. Crouching down, she hesitantly pulls at the loose knot and it falls open, revealing a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, two apples, and a cracked leather canteen full of water.

Common sense screams at her to think, but she throws caution to the wind. Grabbing the canteen with trembling fingers, she flips the lid and chugs the cold water. It has a dusty, alkaline taste, but she cries with relief. Tearing off a hunk of bread, she stuffs it in her mouth, her eyes drifting closed at the taste. It hits the hollowness in her belly so fast, she almost retches, but she manages to keep it down.

The rest, she wraps up in the cloth sack and hugs it to her chest.

She walks down the hall. Through a small office, down another hall.

With every step, she expects to be stopped. But nothing happens.

At the end of the hall, is a heavy black door. When she opens it, sunlight spills in and she takes a deep breath of fresh air.

From the outside, the base looks like a series of old buildings, but there is literally nothing else. No people. No vehicles. Nothing but the peppy chirp of birds warbling in the trees. For one brief moment, she stands in the morning light and thinks about giving up. Such a soothing thought.

But then the sound of Bucky’s voice fills her head.

Find a way to live.

The years that follow will be filled with devastating sadness, but beneath it all, she will hold these words close to her heart. She can do this for him.

So, she starts walking.

Down the ruts of the narrow access road leading away from the building, one foot in front of the other. She anticipates bullets hitting her from behind, but nothing happens. On she walks, through a forest of trees, one step after another. Into the open, where the access road joins up with a small country lane. She turns left and keeps going. Five slow miles she traipses along, until a town appears.

On the edge of the main street, she sees a small grocery store and walks inside. Covered in grime, shivering from head to toe, she tries to speak, but instead, she collapses. An older woman looks up from behind the counter, and her curls of thick black hair bounce when she rushes around the front counter shouting in Italian for help.

For two weeks, she stays there recovering, but no one comes.

In that sleepy Italian town, she finally understands.

After everything she has done, after everything they stole from her, after they broke her one last time - it appears that Hydra really was finished with her.

With freedom should come relief, but that is an emotion reserved for saints, not sinners like her. What she has done, she can never undo.

She will live with that fact, from now until the end of her days.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

[baepsaets]

sunny day pt. 2 ~ park jimin

pairing: hybrid!jimin x reader

rating: sfw

word count: 3.2k

summary: you’re a veterinary student specializing in hybrid care when you get a call in the middle of the night that a feral hybrid has broken into the clinic where you work.

a/n: thank you all so much for the overwhelmingly positive reaction to pt 1! i should have pt 3 finished by the end of the week, and i appreciate your support and patience! have a great day xx

part 01 02 03 04 05 epilogue

“This is my building,” you said, pulling into a small, crowded parking lot. “It’s not fantastic, but it’s close to my school and the clinic, which is where I spend most of my time.”

Jimin nodded. “It’s—nice.”

It was certainly better than any living arrangements of his own.

He wasn’t sure what to think. If he was being honest, his head was spinning, replaying the night over and over again in his mind. He glanced around nervously when you pulled into a parking space and turned off the car.

“I live on the third floor, but there’s an elevator. Do you need help walking?”

“No,” he replied quickly, glancing down at his ankle.

He didn’t think it was broken, but he couldn’t put weight on it. Opening the door, he braced himself and climbed out, putting the lightest pressure on his foot before recoiling in pain. He hissed in frustration.

You were at his side in a moment. “It’s alright, I’ll help you.”

He swallowed as you threw his arm over your shoulder, your own arm winding around his waist. His tail stiffened, but he forced it to relax. He hated feeling indebted to someone, especially because he’d been told his entire life that he should be grateful just for being allowed to exist.

As you struggled to help him into the building, you asked, “Please, be honest with me. Where else are you hurt?”

Jimin opted for honestly, since you seemed to have the uncanny ability to see right through him. “My back. Whenever I got, uh, injured—he, well, I fell on my back. And skidded.”

Immediately your grip on him shifted to accommodate for the possible pain. “There’s probably gravel in the wound. I can clean that.”

He felt bad having to lean against you, but every time he put pressure on his left foot his leg erupted into pain. He rolled his neck and buried his face against your skin, trying to hide his grimace. Nuzzled against you like he was, it was impossible not to notice how good you smelled. It was like, for a moment, his pain disappeared, and life was just you and your scent and the way it wrapped around him, wispy like a thin sheath. Jimin found himself pressing his face further into your neck, breathing deeply in and out, unaware that he’d stopped walking.

He brushed his lips against the skin underneath your ear, letting out a pleased hum when you shuddered against him. He found himself unconsciously leaning closer—he was utterly enticed, and it wasn’t until a passing car sent light scattering across the parking lot he realized what he was doing.

He jerked back with a horrified gasp. You stared at him, pretty face flushed a deep red, and he wanted to die of embarrassment. You were just trying to help him into the building and here he was, trying to scent you in the parking lot like an overeager teenager. Jimin felt his face heat up and he tried to pull away, almost shifting the both of you off-balance.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. He looked away and added, sheepishly, “You smell good.”

It may have been his imagination, but he thought your face flushed further. “Don’t worry about it, just focus on getting to my apartment.”

You were visibly exhausted by the time the two of you made it upstairs. You unlocked the door and let him inside, flushing a bit in embarrassment. It wasn’t the biggest apartment, or the cleanest, but it was obvious that you were making due with what you had. You let him lean against the wall while you went into the kitchen and grabbed something, returning a moment later.

“I want you to take some pain medication now so it has time to kick in before I start bandaging you,” you said, handing him hybrid-style Ibuprofen you’d gotten from your cabinet. Jimin wondered why you kept such material on hand, but after carefully evaluating them, tipped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He could smell how delighted you were, but you only nodded. “Here, let me show you my bedroom. It’ll be the most comfortable.”

Now you seemed more embarrassed—he wondered if you were the type that often brought men into your bedroom, but scolded himself for thinking it. Your love life wasn’t any of his business, and he shouldn’t be thinking about you that way. It didn’t matter how nice you seemed or how good you smelled; you could still be a threat to him, and he needed to keep his guard up.

The bedroom was small and modest, much like the rest of the apartment. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway. Your scent was even stronger here, in the space where you spent most of your time. Where you slept. Where you did—other activities.

Jimin rubbed his forehead like he could rub sense into himself.

“Get on the bed, please,” you said, professional, but he felt his face flush hot. You didn’t notice, but he could smell your own embarrassment as you continued, “Also, you don’t have to, uh—take your whole shirt off. I just need to have full access to your back.”

He pulled his shirt over his head but kept it bunched around his biceps, covering his chest. You weren’t looking at him, choosing instead to rummage through your closet. “I know I have a few shirts that’ll fit you, but for pants,” you grimaced, “we’ll have to see.”

The following silence made him cringe. He wished he could be more talkative, but he was still nervous. After a moment you found a suitable t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and finally turned to face him. “Do you want to shower first? It’d be preferable.”

He shook his head, mainly because he wasn’t sure he could shower with only one good leg and not slip. You accepted his answer without complaint and threw the clothes on the bed. “Change, and I’ll get the rest of the supplies out of the car. Take as much time as you need.”

You walked out of the room, but Jimin didn’t move until he heard you leave the apartment. He moved slowly, cautiously, wincing the entire time—the sweatpants were a chore, and didn’t fit properly, but they were better than the ragged jeans he’d been wearing. The more he moved his ankle the more nervous he got, because he couldn’t deny the pain was terrible. He wanted desperately for it just to be sprained. A break took months to heal, and he didn’t have months to sacrifice his health to as he battled to survive on the streets. He barely survived now.

He was so tired, constantly fighting for territory, fighting for food, fighting not to get sent to a shelter. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

You came back quickly. With his shirt still covering his front, he watched you set up supplies across the bed. There were sharp things, rags, antiseptic, gauze and band aids and cotton balls. You were frowning, but he didn’t pry.

“I’m going to wash your back first,” you said. “That’s the easy part. Then I need to go through with these.” You held up a frighteningly sharp pair of tweezers, and he stiffened. “I need to pick out all the gravel. After that I can disinfect and bandage.”

He nodded, but you waited. He realized after a moment that you were adamant to get his verbal consent, and said, “Okay.” It pleased him to see you wait, but he wouldn’t show it.

You got a basin of warm water and set it on the floor, crawling on the bed behind him. You washed his back gently but appropriately, not stopping to linger on the muscles of his shoulders, or the scars that littered his skin that he’d acquired after years of living on his own. You rubbed his back until the water ran cold and patted it dry.

“I’m not going to say it won’t hurt,” you said. “I expected there to be numbing cream in the first aid kit, but someone must have taken it out. I promise I’ll be as quick and thorough as I can.”

He huffed, digging his fingers into your blanket. He wanted to flex his claws but didn’t want to ruin your pretty bedsheets.

“I can see that you’re nervous,” you murmured. “If I’m being honest, I am too.” He could smell that you were but didn’t want to comment. He’d be nervous too, if he were you. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous, so don’t feel pressured to respond. I’ll just keep talking anyway.”

He liked that. People didn’t often talk to him, and when they did, they usually weren’t nice. Your voice was soothing, and he gripped onto it as a distraction from the pain as you started from his left shoulder and worked your way across, picking gravel out of his skin and piling it on a rag to your right.

You talked awhile about nonsense, like the weather and school and local news, and he listened. But slowly he could feel your discontent rising until you asked him again, “What happened?”

It was such a simple question, but it filled him with dread. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie because he knew you’d see through him, but also because it made him feel guilty. Despite this, the truth felt like lead on the back of his tongue, too heavy to let loose except in small, tiny quantities.

“I’m a stray,” he admitted, after a long moment. The air between the two of you seemed viscous like taffy, stretched thin and ready to snap. “I was squatting in an alley downtown when the owner of the restaurant I was sneaking leftovers from found me. He decided to try and get rid of me himself.”

He felt your hand tremble where it was braced against his shoulder, and when he glanced back, he realized you were angry. Incredibly angry, your scent turning the air around you hot and red. “What a jackass. He could have called a clinic. Fuck, he could have called hybrid control.” He watched you shake your head in disgust. “People like that have no compassion.”

Jimin wouldn’t have believed you if he couldn’t smell how upset you were, if he couldn’t hear your steady and truthful heartbeat. He’d never seen a human get so worked up over a hybrid, especially one she didn’t even know. He turned away and continued. “Your clinic was closest. I just wanted to break in and steal some bandages. I hadn’t realized there would be another hybrid there.”

You scent mingled with confusion until you realized he was talking about the lion hybrid. “Oh, you didn’t have to worry. Namjoon wasn’t there. It’s his night off.”

He knew that now, but nothing could have stopped the initial panic and distress he’d felt realizing he’d broken into another hybrid’s den. Especially another cat hybrid like him, an older one, a stronger one. It had disoriented him past the point of sense, which was when Jungkook had found him, panicking him even more. It wasn’t until you’d came that he’d been able to get a grip on himself.

“I figured that out. But stepping uninvited into someone’s den is a huge invasion of privacy, and it set me off.”

“Is that his den?” you asked, surprised. “I thought it was just his office.”

Jimin was surprised you knew what a den was in the first place. He was continuously impressed by your extensive hybrid knowledge, especially because most people didn’t care enough to learn about them. Everything from your behavior to your tone to your scent conveyed reassurance and ease in a practiced way only someone who knew what they were doing could achieve.

“It’s his den,” Jimin confirmed. “He’s scented the hell out of it.”

You huffed to yourself. “No wonder he’s picky about who goes in there. I guess work really is that man’s second home.”

Something like jealousy pooled in his chest at the fondness in your tone. He shook his head, ignoring the irrational feeling and focusing on your scent as you cleaned his back. “Your scent was in there, too.” He remembered it clearly, like a shot of fresh air through a cloud of heavy smoke.

“Namjoon and I work together. I’m in his office a lot.”

His chest tightened further. Jimin tried to analyze the emotion, wondering where it came from. “You two seem—close.”

“He’s a good friend of mine and I owe him a lot. Technically, you’re not allowed to work full-time at the clinic without a degree, but he made an exception for me.”

“I can see why.”

You breathed in sharply through your nose, and Jimin winced at his sudden declaration. He didn’t want to come off as creepy. “Why?”

His pressed his mouth into a thin line, embarrassed. “You’re good at what you do.”

Jimin could tell from your scent that you were flattered, and it helped him relax. Your hand was soft on his shoulder, soothing, while the other worked meticulously to clean his scrapped back.

“He wanted to make me a manager,” you admitted. “But I’m too preoccupied with school to take on that responsibility. My education is my priority. If Namjoon’s offer is still on the table when I graduate, then,” he felt you shrug, “I’ll consider it.”

“You’re very serious about school,” he noted.

“School is the only reason I’m here. In the city, I mean. I wouldn’t be able to afford it otherwise. I don’t know if you’ve noticed the state of my apartment,” you laughed, gesturing around you, “but it’s not exactly a dream condo.”

Your scent changed, becoming a little sadder, a little more melancholic. “There are people in my neighborhood who get stuck in the same place with the same people doing the same thing for their entire lives. School is my chance to break free of that. It’s a chance for me to apply purpose to my passion.”

Jimin could feel you staring at him, gaze prickling on the back of his neck before you asked, “Is there anything you’re passionate about?”

He looked down at his lap. He used to be passionate about a lot—dancing and singing and preforming. It seemed like a lifetime ago, like the person he was then and the person he was today were two completely different people.

“I used to dance,” he admitted in a low voice. He had no idea what he was doing, sharing his past with a stranger. But there was something about you that seemed so heartbreakingly familiar, he couldn’t help himself. “I grew up with a little girl who did ballet.”

It hurt him, speaking about his first family. “She was older than me. She would take me to practice and I’d learn with her.”

You waited until he paused to ask, “Did you like ballet?”

“It was nice, but I just liked dancing. I was good at it.” He shrugged, but then winced in pain. “It was nice being good at something. What I really liked was street dancing.”

He hadn’t gotten into street dancing until he’d been abandoned, but that was a different story for a different day. You seemed to sense his trepidation and didn’t press the issue.

“I’m terrible at dancing,” you confessed, changing the focus of the subject. “It’s embarrassing.”

Jimin paused, turning to look over his shoulder at you. “Show me.”

Your entire face turned red. “Oh, my God, no.”

He turned around in full, ignoring your soft sound of protest as he turned his injured back away from you. “I’m serious, show me.”

Your mouth opened like you couldn’t believe what he was requesting, scent nervous and amused. “I’d rather die.”

“It can’t be that bad,” he laughed. He bit his lip watching you bury your face in your elbow, heartbeat picking up. “I want to see.”

“Turn back around,” you demanded, but your tone was entertained. “I’m not finished bandaging you.”

He found himself unconsciously leaning toward you. “I’ll turn around when you dance for me.”

“That won’t happen, so you might as well turn before I make you.”

Jimin let out a surprised guffaw. “Before you make me?”

You laughed and looked away, face still flushed while you ran your tongue across your bottom lip. Jimin found himself transfixed by the movement, cocking his head to the side. You really did smell good, and you were so warm. Jimin thought his entire life could be defined by coldness—cold streets, cold hearts, cold families. But here you were in front of him, radiating light with such a warm heart that it left him breathless. When you turned back to look at him your gazes caught, and the tension in the room became palpable.

For a moment the strain in the air hung unspoken between the two of you, humid and thick. But then you laughed awkwardly and leaned back, breaking the spell. Jimin turned around with a hot face. “I’m sorry. You can keep working.”

“It’s okay,” you breathed, voice almost too low for him to hear. “I’m almost done, anyway.”

The rest of the night was spent in stuttered silence. You patched Jimin up well into the morning, only truly stopping because he seemed ready to drop dead from exhaustion. It didn’t take nearly as much convincing as you’d feared to convince him to stay, but what energy you had leftover you put into convincing him it was okay for him to sleep in your bedroom while you slept on the couch.

It made his chest squirm, thinking about how far out of your way you were going to help him, but he found it within himself to be grateful—he really didn’t think he could sleep on a couch with his back hurting like it was, and decided the argument wasn’t worth the effort. You pressed that to your advantage, even convincing him to sleep with his ankle elevated and an ice pack on. The cold burned his skin, but he welcomed the sting as the pain in his ankle lessened to a dull ache.

Alone in your bedroom, he shamefully buried his face into your pillow and inhaled your scent. The throbbing in his ankle kept him preoccupied as he laid away and listened to you shift on the couch, unable to relax. He drifted off in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, and your troubled figure finally went slack with sleep.

[disappearinginq]

Yes, me again😳- please can you write something for “ withholding medical treatment” for Bad Things Happen?

Yes, yes I can! Hopefully, this works for your prompt!

He’d never seen Thomas look so pale.

He pressed down harder on the bleeding wound, the overshirtalready soaked through with red. Cold, pale fingers shook as they tried to pushhis away, but every ounce of strength was gone.

“Leave it,” he snapped, ignoring the tremble in thosescarred hands.

His response was so quiet, Rick almost missed it.

“I’m going to bleedout,” Magnum slurred, his head falling back against the door of the Rover. Hischest barely moved, breathing rapid and shallow as he fought to keep his eyesopen, even though every time he blinked, they stayed closed longer and longer.

Rick shook his head. Whether to tell Magnum that, no¸ you most certainly are-fucking-notor to ward off the sudden image of a disturbingly similar scenario, many yearsago on the dirt floor of a makeshift cell block beneath the earth, feeling justas useless as he did now, trapped behind a locked cage door. “No, you’re not.”

“ y’got ‘nother….bullet?”

He wished.

“We have to go to a hospital,” he snarled at the driverinstead.

The young man behind the wheel didn’t even bother to turnaround. He was hunched over the wheel as if it would make him invisible, flinchingwhen Rick raised his voice. “No. You’re a-a soldier. I know it. You talk likeone. You can make do.”

“Look, kid, carjacking is one thing. Shooting someone isanother. Negligent homicide is awhole new matter entirely.”

“Then I guess you best make sure he lives, huh?” thepassenger said, leaning around to point his gun at Magnum. “Unless you think Iought to just put him out of his misery now, huh?”

Rick gritted his teeth. “You shoot him, you better be thefastest gun since Jesse James, because then I’ll be out of reasons to let youlive.”

The man laughed. “You got balls, son. I’ll give you that.But that’s pretty ambitious for someone sitting on the wrong side of a gun,unarmed, with his hands tied together.”

“Ambitious,” Rick conceded in a flat voice. “But not wrong.”

“Lee, maybe we should– ”

Lee turned on his partner so fast Rick was surprised hedidn’t get whiplash, cuffing the kid in the back of the head hard enough thatthe Rover swerved into the opposite lane before the driver wrestled it backonto the right side. “What’d I tell you, dumbass?”

The kid flinched. “Just drive.”

“That’s right. Just drive.I don’t need you getting any smart ideas.”

“If he dies, you’ll be lucky to go down for murder one,”Rick pointed out. He tried not to think about the warmth of the soaked ragbeneath his fingers. Tried not to look at the growing stain on the high-endleather of the Rover’s back seat. Or how cold Magnum’s fingers were. Or the wayhis teeth chattered. Or tried to shift away from him every time Rick presseddown to stem the bleeding.

Lee scoffed. “And if we’re unlucky, hot shot?” The gun remained pointed at Thomas, who twistedagainst the corner of the seat and the door, did little more than glareblearily at him.

“No one will ever find your bodies.”

The kid’s fearful eyes met his in the rearview mirror, andRick knew he had his attention.

“Hawaii’s a great place for body dumping,” Rick continuedconversationally. “Volcanoes. An ocean filled with currents that’ll take youmiles out in a matter of minutes and sharks that may or may not be tempted totake a chunk out of you. Rainforests so dense and damp that the only way anyoneis gonna find you is by accident, fifty years from now when the only thing leftbehind is your teeth.” Rick paused, considering it for a moment. “And that’sassuming I leave you with yourteeth.”

“You ain’t doing squat from the back seat of a car with yourhands tied, so sit back, shut the hell up, and take care of your friend beforeI decide I don’t want to listed to him moan anymore,” Lee snapped. “As you justhelpfully pointed out, lots’a places for bodies ‘round here.”

“Or,” Rick immediately snapped back, “you could just let usout at the fucking curb, I’ll lie and tell them this is your car, you took us tothe hospital after we were attacked by someoneelse, and you can drive off at your own pace while shock and trauma robs meof any cognitive memory of what you looked like when the police come calling.”

“Lee – ” the driver tried again, but shut up when Lee raisedhis hand again.

“Why would you do something like that?” Lee askedsuspiciously.

“Because this ain’t my car, and I don’t give a rat’s assabout what happens to it, or you, if you let my friend live,” Rick said. Hedidn’t mention the part where it belonged to a feisty British majordomo whotook her job a little too seriously that would hunt them down later having madeno such promise to leave them be.

He also didn’t mention the fact that the Rover was equippedwith Lo-Jack, they were already two hours late returning the vehicle to theNest, and Higgins was going to wonder what the hell they were doing on thewrong side of the island when she got impatient and looked up their location onthat fancy laptop of hers. He just hoped they were out of the vehicle by thetime the cops showed up, because he had no doubt Higgins was the type to reportthe car stolen if she thought they were off joyriding, and there was no wayThomas was going to survive a high-speed chase.

Lee stared at him, assessing. Rick could see him mull itover in his head, weighing the benefits of not having a murder attached to him,hassle of having to hide a body if he did against the likelihood that Rick waslying about not telling the hospital staff the truth.

“It doesn’t even have to be a hospital for chrissakes,” Ricksnapped. “I’ll take a goddamn vet at this point. A CVS with a pharmacy and aphone, I don’t care, but if you don’tlet us out of the vehicle, I’m going to make your lives a goddamn nightmare for what remains of them.”

“We’ll think about it.”

And Lee turned back around, completely ignoring the two menin the backseat.

Rick forcibly bit the inside of his cheek to keep fromsaying anything, desperately trying to channel his inner Nuzo to keep his mouthshut and not antagonize the bad guys into letting Thomas die out of spite forsomething he said. The hospital was agood option. Lee just had to convince himself that it was his idea, and notsomething he’d been bullied into by a hostage.

Rick just didn’t know if he had that kind of time.

The hole in Magnum’s leg missed the artery, or he would’vebeen dead already, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear. Close range, theexit wound was large and messy, and besides a shirt, Rick had literally nothingfor first aid. If they’d been driving the Ferrari, or even his Porsche, therewouldn’t have even been space for them to be hostages, but that’s what they gotfor doing Higgins a favor and taking the Rover in for service while they werealready in town and she was entertaining another cultural tour of the Nest. Italso meant no first aid kits.

He pressed down harder on the still bleeding wound, thoughthe shirt was already saturated through. Magnum hardly moved under the newonslaught of pain, and Rick tried not to think about the sound he made thatwasn’t quite human. He was conscious, but just barely, his teeth chatteringagainst the cold of shock, but he could do little more than let Rick try whateverhe could to stem the flow of blood.

The car rounded a corner and came to a screeching halt inthe middle of the road, skidding on the tarmac before coming to a stop.

It took all of Rick’s effort to keep Thomas from flying offthe seat, and he cried out as Rick’s full weight came down on his leg, even hashe braced his shoulder against the seatback in front of him.

“Shit, sorry Thomas,” he apologized quickly, risking aglance out the windshield. He half expected traffic, or road work, but healmost laughed out loud when he saw the flashing red and blue lights.

Higgins was more paranoid than he gave her credit for. Ormaybe Katsumoto was a better detective than he thought.

Either way, he owed them both drinks, because he’d neverbeen happier to see half of HPD creating a road block with weapons drawn andpointed at him.

Two more cruisers pulled in behind them, blocking them frombacking up and making an escape in reverse.

This was more than just Higgins being annoyed and vindictiveabout the car going rogue. Someone had to have reported the carjacking, orgunshots, or something, because this was a coordinated response – no matter howlittle Katsumoto liked Magnum, there was no way he would rope half thedepartment into teaching him a lesson about joyriding without the majordomo’s permission.

“This is HPD – step out of the car with your hands in theair where we can see them, nice and slow,” Katsumoto called over the radioloudspeaker. “We have you surrounded. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Rick snickered, though it was probably more nervous reliefthan actual humor. “Ha, ha,” he managed, reminiscent of Nelson Muntz. “I takeback all previous offers. You’re screwed.”

“Am I?” Lee snarled.

Rick didn’t have time to contemplate what the gunman couldpossibly mean before the man threw open his door, using it as a shield betweenhimself and the police, swinging around to rip open the door Thomas was leaningagainst, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him out of the vehiclebefore Rick could protest or even think to stop him.

The soaked makeshift bandage came loose in his hand asThomas was ripped out from underneath it, hauled up in front of Lee as a humanshield.

Thomas didn’t even scream, and maybe that was worse. Hecouldn’t stand on his own, the only reason he was upright was Lee’s arm aroundhis neck and shoulder, the little color he had absolutely gone, his face ashenand pale. Rick was honestly shocked the abrupt change in position didn’t makecause him to pass out, but dammit all if Magnum was a fighter. Dark eyes keptthreatening to roll to the back of his head as he fought to stay conscious, onetrembling hand on Lee’s arm holding him up, and the other hovering shakily overthe gunshot wound to his leg as he tried to keep his weight off of it.

“I already shot him once,” Lee shouted at Katsumoto. “I’mokay with doing it again. Are you?”

Katsumoto’s face didn’t so much as flicker. That manshould’ve been a professional poker player. “If your goal is to get out of thisalive, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah?” Lee snarled, digging the muzzle of the pistol intoMagnum’s jaw with bruising force. “Well, maybe I got different plans.”

“Your intent suicide by cop?” Katsumoto retorted. “We can dothat. But first, release the hostage.”

“This guy?” asked Lee, his tone suddenly pitching towardsmania. “This guy, right here?” He gave Magnum a slight shake. “Nah. I don’tthink so. I kinda like the sounds he makes.” And with that, he took the gunfrom Magnum’s jaw to shove against the wound in his leg.

The ragged scream barely made it past Magnum’s lips beforeRick slammed into Lee, catching the gunman in the side with his shoulder hardenough he heard the crack of ribs. He collided with such force he actually knockedThomas forwards and away from them, his friend half catching himself with one hand– just enough to not smash his teeth out on the concrete – before collapsing tothe ground.

Rick didn’t see any of it. Didn’t hear the police shouting,didn’t hear Katsumoto order the other officers not to shoot, didn’t hear the goahead for the EMT’s.

His vision tunneled. He grabbed Lee by the hair, twisting itas hard as he could, his nails digging into the man’s skull as he yanked hishead up by the hair only to smash it down against the road with an audiblecrack.

“Shoot my friend, will you?” Rick snarled through gritted teeth, gripping thegunman’s head in his bloodied fingers. “Refuseto take him to a hospital, huh?”He slammed Lee’s head down again. “Maybe I’ll like the sounds you make.”

He wrenched the man’s head up again, with every intention ofsmashing it against the road until it split – and maybe not stopping even then –except…

“Rick.”

He froze, fingers still gouging into Lee’s scalp, halfway toslamming it down again.

“Rick.”

He turned to Thomas, who was currently being fitted to aback board as one of the EMT’s pressed sterile dressing against the entry wound,despite him trying to flinch away from contact.

Thomas was barely conscious. If Rick hadn’t seen the hellthat man could go through, he would’ve been surprised. He could tell that the medicswere – though impressed was probably the wrong word for it. Thomas’s handsautomatically went to the oxygen mask, pulling stubbornly at it the second theyreplaced it, rolling his upper body as soon as they let go of him as they kepttrying to hold his hands down while they strapped him in.

Rick dropped Lee without a second thought, reaching forMagnum’s clumsily flailing hand as it reached for the mask again.

“Leave it,” he ordered, gently placing Thomas’s hand back athis side.

Magnum’s fingers gripped Rick’s sleeve, twisting in the fabric.The mask fogged slightly as he tried to speak, but whatever it was, was lost inthe chaos.

He tried not think how unnervingly familiar all of this was.

At least they weren’t being loaded into a helicopter.

Rick suddenly found himself gripping Thomas’s hand, thesudden sensation of dread that this would be the last time he’d see Thomas aliveso forceful he felt himself stumble.

Maybe that was just because the EMT’s finally lifted himfrom the ground. At least, that’s what he told himself.

A hand on his shoulder had him flinching, jerking violentlyat the slight touch.

Katsumoto held his hands back, palms out in ‘surrender’pose, and it was only then that Rick realized he’d been trying to talk to himfor the past several moments.

“Should I call your friend?” Katsumoto asked. Judging fromthe slight sigh at the end of the question, Rick guessed he must have asked itmore than once.

“Yeah. Sure. Probably.”

The detective raised an eyebrow, then glanced back at the unconsciousgunman. “Normally, the precinct would be your next stop, but –”

“I think I’m in shock. I need medical attention,” Rickrecited hollowly. That was what his uncle taught him to tell the police – or anyoneelse, for that matter – if things ever went sideways. Something close to itanyway.

Katsumoto’s lips twitched in what might’ve been a knowingsmirk, but who could tell? “I’ll take care of it.”

Rick wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was, but he didn’t care.

Huh. Maybe it wasshock.

Or maybe just relief.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He let the EMT’s loadThomas into the back of the waiting ambulance, his hand still gripping tightlyagainst cold fingers.

Cold fingers that held onto his just as tightly.

[neonlights92]

BURDEN: CHAPTER VI

After the death of his wife during childbirth Kim Seokjin is unable to hold his baby daughter without grief taking control. Just three weeks after the love of his life is taken from him so suddenly, Jin is expected to marry somebody new.

You are foolish and have spent your whole life pining after Kim Seokjin from afar, even after he marries your best friend, Seul.  But suddenly Seul is gone and you are expected to marry Jin and raise his child. You know your heart is already in it, but what about his?

Warnings: Language and some violence

A/N: SO THIS IS (ALMOST) IT FOR BURDEN GUYS!!  We’ve got another chapter to go (which will be an epilogue) and then we’re done! I think Hobi’s story will come next, so keep your eyes peeled for the first chapter of that which I will hopefully post some time next week!! Thank you all for sticking by meeee and I hope you enjoy this ridiculously fluffy and angsty chapter!!!

//

It was a long time before the bag that was over your head was finally pulled away.

They’d piled you into what you guessed was the back of a van, but you weren’t very sure how long you’d been driving for.

You picked up on the little bits of conversation between Seul and Yixing, and the way they two of them seemed to be discussing where to take you.  They spoke  in code, of course, so that just in case you escaped, you wouldn’t know where you were.

It had been been a while now, how long you couldn’t be sure, but your legs felt stiff, and you were hungry and tired.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally asked, after having kept quiet for so long.

There was a moment of silence, before you heard Seul sigh deeply.

“You know I can’t tell you that, Y/N.” You felt angry tears crawling up your throat, “Why are you doing this?” “I know you won’t believe me,” Seul answered, her tone miserable, “But I’m trying to help you.” “Help me?” You scoffed, “By kidnapping me?”

“It was the only way I could ensure you would come with me,” She replied, and you heard the guilt in her voice, “I want to keep you safe.” “Safe from what?” “From who more like,” This came from Yixing, his own voice gruff, “From Bangtan.” You paused, “What do you mean?” “Things with Bangtan have been escalating for a while now.  And it’s only going to get worse.  I want you to be on the right side when it happens.”

Suddenly, you understood what was happening.

Seul was going to try to transition you into EXO.  She wanted you to leave your family, your husband.  She wanted you to leave Bangtan.

“I am on the right side,” You answered, trying to sound sure of yourself, “I want you to take me back to Bangtan.  To Jin.” You made sure your husband’s name was loaded with venom.  You wanted her to feel how angry you were.  How disappointed and disillusioned.

Hadn’t you known her your entire life?

What was she doing?

“We’re here,” Seul said, ignoring your words, and you felt the car come to a slow stop, “Please don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

You waited a moment, as you heard their car doors opening, and suddenly you were being hauled out, hands gripping your arms tightly.  You hissed at the bruising touch, wondering why you’d ever thought this was a good idea.

If Seul could betray her own husband, why had you ever thought she wouldn’t do the same to you?

“C’mon,” Yixing’s voice came again, “Move.”

You shuffled your feet forward, and allowed them to lead you, feeling your jaw clench at your situation.  Jin had no idea where you were, save for the fact that you’d gone out to meet his double crosser of an ex wife.

You were all alone.

“Is this her?”  This was a different voice, smoother, “Jin’s wife?” “Yes,” Seul answered, and you noticed she was standing somewhere behind you, “This is her.” “C’mon then.”

And then you heard a heavy door creaking open, and your feet moved from gravel to linoleum.  You were indoors.

“I’m going to take the bag off your head,” Yixing told you firmly, “Don’t try anything funny, alright?” You wanted to spit back at him that even if you wanted to you were completely incapacitated, and instead nodded.  

“Alright then.” And then the bag was removed from your head, and you blinked at the sudden contact with light.  It was blinding for a moment, as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings.

You were in a small room, with nothing but a table and two chairs sat right in the middle.

“Sit.”  You turned and got a good look at Yixing, his eyes tracing your features carefully, “C’mon Y/N.  Sit down.”

“Let me go,” You said quietly, “And I’ll do whatever you want.”

He gave you a terse frown, “If you try and run away I’ll shoot you.” The words froze your heart over.  You snorted.

“I’m not stupid, okay?  I’m not going to try and run away.”

There was another beat of silence, before he rolled his shoulders back and then released you.  You moved away from him quickly, turning to face Seul.

She looked like she was about to cry.

“Y/N.”  She stepped towards you and you flinched back.

“Don’t touch me,” You hissed, acid lacing your words.

She seemed upset by your reaction, but she nodded, eyes downcast as you glared at her.  With anxiety clutching your stomach, you made your way to the table and sat down, staring at your captors.

Yixing was handsome, in a slightly unconventional way, and you noticed the way his hands were clenched, almost as if he was always ready for a fight.  Seul looked more or less the same as the last time you’d seen her, except she was slimmer and she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Is our guest comfortable, then?” The unfamiliar voice from earlier belonged to a tall man, with squinted eyes and a particularly tough look about him.  Immediately, your heart sank to the bottom of your feet.

You knew who this was.

Xiumin.  The leader of EXO.

“What do you want from me?” You asked, as you watched him move towards you from his place at the door.

He watched you silently for a moment, and you wondered what exactly he was thinking about.

Was he going to kill you?  Send out a message to Bangtan, that anybody who messed with EXO was expendable? Your heart thudded angrily against your ribcage, and you chewed on your bottom lip, twisting your hands in front of you nervously.

“Seul seems to think that you can be of assistance to us,” He ignored your question, sitting down on the chair opposite you, “That you can help us finish our business with Bangtan once and for all.”

You shivered at the coldness in his voice.  At the ugly, sprawling tattoo that covered his entire neck.

He looked scarier than anybody had ever looked to you before, and you’d grown up around ugly, evil men.

“How?” The word was quiet, almost whispered.

You didn’t want to appear weak, or scared, but you couldn’t help it.

“A few months ago, Min Yoongi murdered a very important person.  Park Chanyeol,” His eyes hardened, “He was a good friend, to me and to EXO.  So now, I believe we must make things right.  A life, for a life.”

You heard Seul’s breath catch, “Xiumin that wasn’t what I agreed to-” His eyes flickered over to your former friend and he scoffed.

“Seul, darling.  Did you really think I was going to offer your friend here a place at EXO?” He cocked his head to the side, “Oh dear.  You must not know me very well then, sweetheart.”

You felt anxiety clutch your chest.  Everything in your body went stiff.

He was going to kill you.

“Xiumin,” Seul’s was upset as her eyes darted back and forth, “Please.  Don’t do this.  We can use her as leverage.” “Leverage?” Xiumin spat, “They killed one of mine, Seul.  One of my best fucking friends.  Now I’m going to get rid of one of theirs.”

You couldn’t believe how nonchalantly he was talking about your death.  How he was going to snuff you out, without even flinching.  Your heart froze over, and you thought about all the things you wished you’d said to Jin.

It was all going to be gone, and you couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it.

But you refused to beg.  So you stared back at him, stoney-eyed.

It didn’t matter that you felt like you were crumbling inside.  You’d lost all hope, anyway.

“Xiumin-” He turned to Yixing angrily, “If you can’t shut your bitch up, I will.”

Seul’s mouth snapped shut, but you didn’t miss the panic in her eyes.  She was frightened.  Perhaps just as scared as you were.

“Give me a gun,” Xiumin held out his hand, “Now.” It was happening.  You were going to die.

In the middle of nowhere, with nobody but your enemies to see.  

And just as Yixing reached into his pocket the door to the room you were in flew open, and you watched as an unfamiliar woman trailed inside.  Her eyes were wide, and her face was chaotic.

“Xiumin!” She screamed, “It’s Bangtan!  They found us.  They fucking found us.”

You didn’t know how it had happened, and you didn’t really care either, but suddenly Xiumin shot up, his back ramrod straight and his eyes moving away from you.  His feet carried him across the room, to the woman, and she grabbed his arm, pushing  him outside into the hallway.

“They’re everywhere!” She shouted, and you noticed the way her voice was trembling, “Fuck.  They shot Baekhyun!”

Xiumin’s figure disappeared around the corner, and your eyes moved to Yixing.  For a moment, he looked like he wanted to keep you there, but as he turned to Seul he saw the pleading in her eyes.

“Let her go,” She whispered her voice hoarse, tears flooding her cheeks, “Please Yixing.  Let her go.”

He grunted and moved away, and you took that as your chance to leave, leaping up from your seat and running towards the now open doorway.  You could hear the commotion coming from outside, and you jumped at the sounds of gunshots.

There were people screaming, and crying, and shoes angrily skidding across the floor.

It was a fucking warzone.

You could feel yourself trembling, with both fear and adrenaline, and you wondered how you were going to escape alive.

You had to find a member of Bangtan.  

It was your only hope.

So you ducked your head, and started moving across the hallway, sticking as close to the wall as possible.  As you came to a corner, your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

There was someone groaning on the floor, covered in blood and clutching was looked like a bullet wound.

They were unfamiliar to you, and you reckoned they were a member of EXO, so steeling yourself against their suffering you kept moving, clutching your chest and hoping and praying that you would reach the exit before a bullet hit you.

“Y/N!” You heard your voice over the noise, and instantly your heart turned.  It sounded like Hoseok

“Y/N!  Are you in here?”

“Yes!  I’m over here,” You screeched, moving as fast as you could down the winding hallway, “Where are you? Hoseok is that you?” And then, as you rounded the corner, you thudded into a firm chest.  You looked up, your eyes blurring with tears you hadn’t even known you were crying, and you felt yourself sag in relief as you blinked up into the face of Jung Hoseok.

“Y/N,” He held you by your shoulders, “Y/N are you ok?” You nodded furiously, “I’m okay.  I’m okay- I’m not injured.” “Here,” He shoved a gun into your hand, “Just pull the trigger at anyone who isn’t Bangtan.  Alright?  And stay close to me, I’m going to get you out of here.”

You followed his instructions, holding the gun between your palms, and keeping your chest pressed tightly against his back.  You thanked God for the fact that your father had taught you how to use a gun, in the rare situation that you might need to one day fend for yourself.

“C’mon.  The front door is over this way.”

You kept close behind him, keeping your head down and trying to ignore the chaos around you.

“Hoseok,” You heard Jin’s voice, “Have you found Y/N?” Your heart flipped at the sound of your husband, and you looked up, blinking as Hoseok pressed a button on the watch strapped around his wrist.

“She’s with me.  I’m going to take her to Jimin.”

“Oh thank fuck.  Alright, I’ll see you now.”

Your chest tightened at the relief in Jin’s tone and just as you rounded yet another corner, Hoseok came to an abrupt halt, and you walked into his firm back.

“Shit.” “Hoseok,” You recognised Xiumin’s voice, and you moved your head around Hoseok’s body, “It seems you have something that belongs to me.” “Fuck of Xiumin,” Hoseok growled, and you watched as his hand tightened on the gun he was holding, “Get out of my way, or I’ll have to shoot you.”

Xiumin rolled his eyes, “C’mon.  It’s just Jin’s bitch.  Do you really want to risk your life saving her?” Hoseok said nothing, and you felt your heart thudding against your chest.

“Give her to me, and nobody else needs to get hurt.  I just want retribution for Chanyeol’s death.”

Hoseok grunted, “You know I’m not going to do that Xiumin.” “Fine,” He lifted his gun and pointed it at you, “Then we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

And before you could even think about what was happening, Xiumin’s gun spat out a bullet that hit you in the stomach.

Searing pain shot through you, and you toppled to the floor, clutching your abdomen, and feeling the world around you fade into a hazy blur.

And then, there was darkness.

//

You woke up in pain.

You felt hot and sweaty all over, like somebody had dunked you in boiling water.

There was a searing pain running all the way from your spine, up into your temples, and you wondered for a moment if you’d been in some kind of accident.

You couldn’t remember a single thing, no matter how hard you tried to grasp onto figments of your memory, and you groaned as your eyelids flecked open to blink into the dim light.

There was a quiet constant beep, and as you looked around the small room you were in, you realised you were hooked up to an IV.

That beep, was your heartbeat.

You noticed you were lying down in a bed, in what looked like a hospital gown, and as your eyes moved to the armchair sat opposite you, your heart wilted in your chest.

Because there was your husband, Kim Seokjin.

His chin was resting on his knuckles, as his eyes drooped close, his mouth slightly ajar.  His hair was ruffled, and it looked like he’d been sleeping in the same clothes for days now.

“Jin?” Your voice was hoarse and croaky as you tried to catch his attention, “Jin?” His eyes flickered open, and for a moment he seemed dazed, before they widened and he realised that you were talking to him.

“Y/N!  Oh my god.  You’re awake.” He stood up quickly, moving towards you and gently grabbing your hand.  He pressed a kiss against your palm, and his eyes connected with your own.

You laughed shakily, surprised by his reaction.

“What’s wrong?  Where am I?” “You’re at the doctor’s house,” He told you quickly, “You’ve been here for three days.  Y/N, you got shot.”

Your eyes travelled down your body, and suddenly you were reminded of the stinging pain in your stomach.  You remembered the other night, the look in Xiumin’s eyes before he’d shot you.

“Am I - is Hoseok okay?  What happened?” “Hoseok is fine,” Jin nodded furiously, “Just after Xiumin shot you, Jungkook found you and he was able to make you a tourniquet to keep the blood from going everywhere.” “And Xiumin?” Jin’s face hardened, “He got away before Hoseok could catch him.”

You watched as your husband’s face softened after a moment, his eyes tracing your features slowly, as if reminding himself that you were here, and you were okay.

“I was so worried for you,” He admitted, his tone vulnerable, “I don’t know what you were thinking running away like that-” “I never thought Seul would betray me,” You answered honestly, “If I’d thought I was in any danger Jin-” “You can’t trust anyone, Y/N.  Nobody except me, or one of the boys, okay?”  Your heart twisted at the desperate look on his face, “I was so, so scared I’d lost you.”

“How did you find me, anyway?”

He sighed heavily, “I told you we’d been attempting to figure out where EXO’s headquarters were.  When I saw your note, Yoongi sent out soldiers to three of the places we thought it could be.  Thank God he was right about one of them.”

His eyes were swimming with something that caused heat to travel up your spine, and despite your current situation, you felt yourself wilting at the way he was looking at you.

“I swear to God, Y/N.  Don’t you ever do something like that to me again, alright?”

You laughed dryly, “I won’t.  I’m so, so sorry Jin.” There was a long stretch of silence.  You waited, your eyes focused on your husband as a million emotions passed through the creases in his skin.  Eventually, he sighed heavily, his hands running through your hair gently.

“Y/N, the moment I thought I’d lost you - fuck.  It just hit me like a tonne of bricks,” You watched as he licked his lips slowly, “I realised that I fucking love you.  I love you so much it hurts to breath sometimes.  I love you so fucking much that I took a gun with me to that warehouse.  I took a gun, and I was going to shoot anybody who got in the way of me getting to you.”

His words twisted your heart up in knots, and you breathed heavily, watching as his face contorted with emotion.

“When you told me you loved me, I was scared,” He admitted, “I didn’t want to say it back, because I was so used to having to play pretend with Seul.  I was used to being in a relationship where I didn’t really know how the other person was feeling.  You deserve so much more than anything I can give you.” You shook your head quickly, leaning forward and wincing as a shot of pain passed through your body.  Jin frowned and you placed your hands on either side of his face.

“Don’t say that Jin, it’s absolutely not true.”  You whispered, pressing your nose against his, “I love you because you’re the kindest man, with the biggest heart I know.  I don’t care about Bangtan, and I don’t care what you do behind closed doors.  I only care about how you make me feel.  And you make me feel like I matter.”

His eyes shone with what looked like unshed tears, and you bit your bottom lip.

“I love you, Y/N.  So much.” You nodded, and with that, he pressed his warm, plush lips against you.  You realised in that moment, that Jinw as your home and that he tasted like home too.

He was gentle as he kissed you, and when he pulled away you groaned.

“I wish I could show you how much I love you,” You told him, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively, “But this stupid IV-” “You’ve got stitches on your stomach, Y/N.”  He told you firmly, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, before sitting back, “There won’t be any of that for a while.” You pouted and he laughed, and you suddenly felt lighter than you ever had before.

“Is Areum okay?” “She’s fine,” He nodded, “Taehyung and his wife have her for the time being, until your well enough to come home.”  His lips lifted at the side, as he smiled softly, “I held her, finally.  Just before I left to go looking for you, I held Areum and I kissed her and I realised how much I loved her, too.  The both of you, your my family.  And I don’t even care if she isn’t mine, because our family is perfect just the way it is.  Weird and wonderful, and even a little dysfunctional.  But perfect just the same.”

You felt tears welling at the back of your throat at your husband’s words, and your heart felt like it was ready to burst.

“You mean that?” “Of course I do,” He chuckled, “I want to make you happy, Y/N.” You felt tears trickle down your cheeks, and Jin moved to wipe them away.

“You make me happier than I ever thought possible.”

He opened his mouth - to say what, exactly you weren’t sure - when the door to your room creaked open, and Yoongi’s wife popped her head through.

“Hi!” She smiled widely at you, “I came to check up on Jin - I didn’t expect you to be awake, already!”

“Hi ___, come in, please.”  

She glanced at Jin, who nodded, and made her way into the room, holding out a bouquet of flowers.  You looked at the roses in her hands and she shrugged.

“Just a little something to decorate the room,” She answered your silent question, “For you.”

You felt yourself flush at the gesture, and you took the gift with open arms, “Thank you so much, ___!”

“You’re more than welcome,” She moved towards you, and Jin stood up, creasing out his pants and gesturing towards teh door.

“I’m going to uh - go make some coffee, alright?”

You nodded and smiled at your husband, watching as he slipped out, and feeling your heart turn as you reminded yourself of the fact that he fucking loved you.

“So…” You turned, and faced Yoongi’s wife, who had the biggest smile on her face, “Was I right?  Did you two finally admit that you love each other?” You felt your face burning up at her question, but despite your embarrassment, you smiled widely and nodded.

“Yeah.  We did.”

“See!  I told you not to give up hope!”

You clutched the bed sheets tighter, feeling a rush of warmth fill you.

It was hope.

Hope for a better future.

Hope for your family.

Hope for your forever.

Loving Jin had started out as a burden you’d never wanted to carry, but now it was your life’s greatest hope.  And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

//

[ruffleo]

The Best in the West - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - It is What it is

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,096

Summary: Arthur Morgan is a bounty hunter. One of the best, in fact. He can tail criminals like no other, almost as if he knows exactly what they’re thinking. When a poster for a member of Dutch Van der Linde’s gang ends up in his hands, he accepts, and so begins the hunt for a man named Joseph Vaughn, and the gang that comes with him.

Note: AU where Arthur was never apart of Dutch’s gang and makes his living as a bounty hunter. Takes place shortly before the Blackwater heist. Plans for this to become a slow-burn between Arthur and male OC.

[ read on ao3 ]

As he neared the railroad tracks, Arthur slowed his horse to a walk. Up ahead, he could spot the small blemish on the horizon of the dilapidated station building. The area was dry, dusty, and the sun was blazing on the back of his neck the whole ride over. Suffice to say that he was in a bad mood. He was more than ready to get his bounty and head back to Armadillo for his money.

The bricks that formed the old station were half gone, and the place didn’t even have a roof. He used his binoculars to scope the area out. The work was easy due to the nature of the place; the four men that were holed out there had nearly nothing to cover themselves. They did the right thing in keeping themselves all in the southwest corner of the building, where the most bricks and the highest walls were, yet their horses remained in plain sight.

Arthur edged closer to the station and worked a plan through his head. He readied his rifle and his revolver, ensuring that they would be in top shape for whatever was to come next.

He started simply enough: one shot into the air.

The horses spooked and scattered, and Arthur remained stock still on his golden brown steed.

A flurry of curses shot into the air, once dead and now full of life, and a man quickly whirled around the wall to see what just happened.

Arthur expected someone to peak and had his revolver ready. The man looked too long, and before he had time to realize it, Arthur shot straight into his nose, blowing his face apart. Bits of pieces of muscle and bone scatter through the air and his body flew back lifelessly. Arthur could hear more cursing erupt from the other men.

“I’m just here for Skinny Abe!” Arthur yelled. The echos from his shots were still ringing in the air. “You other rats can piss off, just give me Abe!”

“Fuck you!” He heard someone spit.

“Fine. If it must be that way, then you’ll have it that way,” he muttered to himself. He spurred his horse into the next gear and moved quickly to the right, around the side of the building. The men shot at him, all of their bullets blowed a meter passed him as his horse drove him forward. Arthur gritted his teeth and moved forward.

Arthur kept the horse moving around in a circle until he heard the bullets stop. He reared his horse, its hooves skidding in the hard dirt and sand of the land, and aimed his revolver. There were two men on either side of his target, both standing about stupidly as they moved their unsteady hands to reload. Even a practicing teenager could hit them. Skinny Abe stayed crouched, low to the ground and covered by what little bit remained of the north-facing wall, which was about a foot high.

With ease, Arthur shot the two fools, hitting one in his chest and the other in his neck. They both fell to the ground in heaps, and blood quickly pooled beneath their bodies.

“Your time is up, Mr. Skinny!” Arthur called out.

Skinny Abe cursed and spat and stood up and promptly yelled back, “Go fuck yourself!”

Arthur shot him in his knee before the man could even get his gun up high enough to shoot. He wailed and fell onto his side, and he clutched his bloodsoaked knee in a cradle.

Arthur got off his horse, patting him on the way down, and headed over to the wreckage. He kicked the guns away from the bodies, not sure if the one who’d been hit in the chest was yet dead, and looked down on his target.

Skinny Abe was indeed skinny, his hair wispy and bald in many places, and his limbs as thin as Arthur’s wrists. His clothes were covered in layers of dirt and his pants had patches sewn all along them. “I am sorry it had to be this way, partner, but your friends here made me do it,” Arthur said as he put his hands on his hips and looked about. He shook his head. “And aren’t you a funky little fella.”

“I’ll bite your cock off!” Skinny Abe growled in between his cries. He yelled in anguish and anger at once, and Arthur looked at him plainly.

“Now why’d you have to go and bring this on yourself, burning that nice lady’s house?” Arthur scolded, almost sounding like his own adopted mother. The thought shook him a little, but he threw it off and whistled for his horse. The thoroughbred listened immediately and swiftly and came to Arthur’s side.

Arthur grabbed his rope from the saddle and made quick work of hogtying his bounty. Skinny Abe yelled at the top of his lungs when Arthur forced him to straighten his leg, and Arthur shut him up. Once he was done, he lifted the man onto his shoulder, surprised at the ease of which he could move a man so small as him, and threw him over the rump of the horse. “Let’s get you to Armadillo,” Arthur said. Skinny Abe whimpered and moaned, but cursed no more. Arthur thought he had to be close to passing out.

Arthur swung up into his saddle and spurred his horse into a trot. He kept his eyes on the horizon, not knowing how many people his target may have at his disposal, and kept a steady pace throughout the country. After a few hours went by, Arthur allowed himself the time to survey his revolver. He let go of the reins and controlled the horse with his legs, but it was mostly unnecessary; the horse knew what needed to be done and reacted well its rider. Slowly and methodically, Arthur took out a rag and some oil and passed the time by cleaning his weapons and singing a merry tune. His eyes never stayed too low for too long.

“You still alive back there?” Arthur asked. Skinny Abe said nothing. Arthur slapped him across the face, and criminal mumbled and moaned, but still said nothing. “That’s enough for me,” Arthur mumbled to himself.

The town of Armadillo was small and dusty. It was one street and dominated by the saloon and the railroad station with an assortment of stores dotted throughout. A small ranch sat off to the side of the town, its corals empty and small. It was nothing more than a middle point for most people who took the train and were headed somewhere else, but there was still more people that inhabited Armadillo than Arthur was comfortable with.

He didn’t want to waste any more time with this bounty. New Austin wasn’t the place for Arthur, who preferred a much greener country full of life and trees. The desert was a sad and scary place, and the sheer openness of it unnerved him to his core. It was always dirty business out in New Austin’s open land and deserts, and as good as the money was for him, it pained him to take orders in the region. The men were wilder than anyone in the east, and their crimes always seemed to on an extreme scale.

The jail in Armadillo was small but worked well as any other. Arthur hitched his horse to the post outside and reached into his satchel for a carrot. “That’s my good boah,” Arthur cooed to the stallion. The horse ate it gratefully, but Arthur saw how his eyes continued to shift and look around the town. “You look for trouble almost more than I do,” he chuckled.

Arthur left the horse with a pat and moved to his backside, where he pulled Skinny Abe off the horse and back onto his shoulder. He carried him in as easy as moving grain from a silo, and opened the door to the sheriff’s building.

“I’ve got a nice present for you boys,” Arthur told the sheriff and deputy, both of which were sitting lazily in the office and smoking cigars. The deputy looked up wildly and moved his hand to his belt before he realized who Arthur was. “Easy there, Green Blood,” Arthur said pointedly.

“How many times have I got to tell you-”

“Quiet, John,” the sheriff cut the deputy off mid-sentence and his gaze slowly moved to Arthur and the man on his shoulder. “Oh, yes, that one. You can go ahead and put him in a cell. John, go lock him up, will you?”

The deputy gave Arthur a sour look and reluctantly stood up. “I s’pose,” he grumbled.

“Thank you, deputy.” Arthur followed Deputy John to the cell on their right, and when it was opened, moved forward and dropped Skinny Abe onto the floor. He grabbed his knife out of its sheath on his belt and cut the rope that bound him, taking a quick look at his knee, which was completely red and difficult to ascertain what was what, then turned and closed the cell door. The deputy did his job, but not with a happy tone. The sound of the lock turning was cold.

“I shot his knee pretty badly. Might want to get that checked,” Arthur told the sheriff.

“Maybe later,” the sheriff waved. “Here, your money’s in the drawer.” He reached into his desk and pulled out a clip of bills. “I believe twenty-five was the offered price.” He tossed it onto the desk and leaned back in his chair and threw his legs onto the desk.

Arthur grabbed the money and tossed it in his satchel. “Thank you, Gabe,” he said. He moved to leave the office, but Deputy John spoke up as Arthur put his hand on the door.

“Twenty-five is too much for this kind of work. You don’t deserve it.”

Sheriff Gabe scoffed. “What do you know about work?”

Arthur said nothing and shook his head.

“There’s been a new bounty posted. I reckon you couldn’t do it even if you wanted to,” he challenged Arthur.

“I’m not rightly looking for anything at this moment,” Arthur told him. “It’s time I go on a little break from this state.” Arthur breathed heavily and rolled his eyes as he spoke.

The deputy ignored him and continued. “A new poster’s been printed for a man from Dutch Van der Linde’s gang. One thousand dollars. Folks been seeing them up in West Elizabeth. Says they’ve been on a roll robbing coaches and trains alike.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but his interest had been piqued. “Where’s this poster?”

The deputy smiled mischievously and looked at the sheriff. He crossed his arms and waited.

The sheriff sighed and took his feet off the desk. Once again, he opened a drawer and rummaged around before he pulled out a freshly folded piece of paper. “This one here. We were meant to post it tomorrow. It's been sent out to just about every town and ranch in the western half of the country.”

Arthur took the poster and looked at it.

THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE OF THE TOWN OF BLACKWATER IS OFFERING A ------------------------------------------------------------------- $1,000 REWARD FOR THE APPREHENSION AND DELIVERY OF

JOSEPH VAUGHN

MEMBER OF THE NOTORIOUS DUTCH VAN DER LINDE’S GANG.

WANTED FOR UNLAWFUL KILLINGS AND ROBBERIES OF STAGECOACHES. ------------------------------------------------------------------ VAUGHN IS OF HEAVY BUILD, LIGHT SKIN, SHAVED HEAD, AND MEDIUM LENGTH BEARD.

LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUTS WAS

SOUTH OF TALL TREES ------------------------------------------------------------------ ALL REWARD CLAIMS WILL BE PAID FROM THE

BLACKWATER SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT.

He looked over the poster and felt a mix of emotions whirl inside of him. He had personal debts to go after the Dutch Van der Linde gang, however, he knew as well as anyone that they were a gang that shouldn’t be messed with. Yet when had that ever stopped him before? He’d gone after nearly every gang or family in the country, except Van der Linde’s. The prospect of it made his stomach float with butterflies. He felt dizzy from the struggle within himself.

Arthur looked at the deputy, then the sheriff, and back at the deputy. With one last glance at the bounty poster in his hand, he nodded once, and folded the sheet into quarters. He put the bounty poster in his satchel and turned and left without another word. He liked to think it was to cow the deputy, but deep down, Arthur knew that another moment of hesitation would have stunted him. He would be Van der Linde’s next biggest threat, and he promised himself that.

[bxcketbarnes]

I’ll Find You

Pairing: Troy Otto x Reader

Author: @cxddlyash

Words: 3590

Author’s Note: So, this is for my fave @lovefilledtragedy writing competition! I did Troy because it’s her fix right now, plus Daniel is absolutely good looking in Fear the Walking Dead. But uhhh yeah. I hope you guys like this. :) Thanks to ma hoe @mf-despair-queen for proofreading this for me!

No Goodbyes - Dua Lipa

I’ve been friends with Troy Otto way before the end of the world. We had met in school before he was pulled from it. It’s hard to see your only real friend disappear from school, not really knowing what had happened to him until you go to the ranch where him and his family lived. In the short time I spent with Troy at school, I fell for him pretty quickly due to his incredible charm and rugged looks. Some say that he wasn’t in his right mind, coming from a dysfunctional home life, but I stuck by him through everything.

 The old world had perished into this new world only a couple months ago and now the infected walk among us. Troy had brought me to the ranch the day it started, telling me that it’d be safer there. Troy’s father, Jeremiah, always had a soft spot for me so he was glad that I was safe.

 Troy offered for me to stay in his room, telling me he’d find somewhere else to sleep. We had gotten really close that night…

 Troy led me to his bedroom, seeing the queen-size bed placed in the center. His room hadn’t changed at all since the last time I was here a couple years ago. I sat down on the bed, playing with my fingers as Troy moved some stuff around to make me feel more comfortable.

 “So, this will be your room. Um, I’ll probably just sleep in the bunkhouse or something,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he grabbed a bag, packing a few things.

 I stood up, placing a hand on his arm, stopping his actions as he looked down at me. “You don’t have to sleep in the bunkhouse, Troy,” I whispered.

 He placed the bag on the floor, turning his body towards me as my heartbeat sped up, feeling it pound against my ribcage. “Well, where am I supposed to sleep then?” He asked huskily, butterflies soaring around in my stomach.

 “U-Um, that bed is big enough for two people,” I mentioned, staring up at him through my lashes.

 He smirked, chuckling slightly as his hand rested on my waist. “So… you want me to sleep with you?” Troy asked, grinning as I felt my cheeks heat up.

 “Jesus, Troy,” I muttered, hiding my face in his chest as he laughed, his hand rubbing my back. “You always loved to embarrass me. I guess that hasn’t changed,” I laughed, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

 “I just like to see your pretty face blush,” Troy muttered, lifting my chin up. My cheeks turned pink, trying to look away from him. “Hey, don’t hide from me,” He whispered, placing a small kiss to the corner of my mouth.

 A lot of shit has happened in the past few weeks. The Clark’s being the newcomers, witnessing a lot of the ranchers give them a cold shoulder. We almost had a war with the nation, claiming that Jeremiah had stolen their land. Troy’s been out doing dangerous missions, leaving me at the cabin, worrying my ass off and hoping he comes home alive.

 After Jeremiah sacrificed himself for us to live, Troy lost it. Even though he treated Troy like shit, Troy still loved him.

 Troy and I walked back to the house after placing Jeremiah in a wooden coffin, my arm wrapped around his waist as I rubbed his back. Once we had made it to his room, I closed the door behind us as Troy sat down on his bed. I sat down next to him, grabbing one of his hands, intertwining our fingers.

 “I’m so sorry, Troy,” I whispered, leaning my head against his shoulder. Troy glanced down at me, squeezing my hand in his lightly.

 “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” He muttered, pressing his lips to the side of my head. “I’ll be okay.”

 I was walking around the ranch, looking out beyond the fences as I waited for the militia to come back from their duties. My eyes focused on the abundance of vehicles coming towards the ranch and I sighed.

 “Here we go,” Alicia muttered, making me jump. I glanced towards her as she looked at me, apologizing quietly.

 “Is this a good idea?” I asked her, seeing the militia parking their buggies by the gate.

 “Probably not, but I guess we have no choice,” She mumbled, staring forward. I nodded my head, agreeing with her. I watched Troy, seeing Nick glance towards him as Jake walked up to Walker.

 Troy’s eyes met mine and I gave him a small smile, my heart swelling a bit as how the sun hits his face just right. Fucking hell. He gives me a cheeky wink, making me giggle slightly as he turned his attention back to Walker’s men who were now pulling their vehicles into the ranch.

 One day. One day Walker’s group has joined ours and chaos has already started. Terrance, one of Gretchen's friends decided to take it upon himself to attack the newcomers, resulting in Crazy Dog crushing his throat. I stood by Troy as the whole thing went down, his arm wrapping around my waist they brought Terrance to the infirmary.

 “I’m going back to our room,” I told Troy, rubbing his chest for a few seconds before walking away from him. His hand slid across my lower back, goosebumps appearing when his fingers grazed my exposed skin.

 “I’ll be there later,” He yelled to me and I glanced back at him, grinning before continuing to the cabin. “Hate to see you go, but love to watch you walk away!” Troy yelled again, making me burst out laughing as I shook my head, feeling my cheeks heat up.

 I sat on the couch, reading one of Jake’s books as Troy stared at his father’s desk, a scowl present on his beautiful face. “Troy?” I called out, getting a humming noise in response. I was about to ask him if he was alright when there was a knock on the door.

 Troy got up as did I, walking towards the door. “Go to our room and don’t come out until I say so,” He muttered.

 My lips parted, stepping towards him, my hand grabbing his bicep. “Troy…” I trailed off and he looks back at me. He placed his hands on my cheeks, pressing his lips to mine quickly.

 “Go, please,” He whispered against them, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I nodded my head, gripping his shirt as I looked past him, seeing a group of people standing on the other side of the door. I glanced back up at Troy, his eyes still on me as I leaned up, kissing his lips quickly before bolting up the stairs.

 I could hear a bunch of mumbling from downstairs, pacing around Troy and I’s room, biting on my nails. I jumped when hearing gunshots, quickly getting under the bed, tears pooling in my eyes as I try to stay silent. I could faintly hear Nick and Troy’s voice as they argue with each other, the sounds of guns cocking filling through the silence.

 “Do you think Y/N would want you to do this?” Nick asked Troy and I listened quietly for Troy’s answer.

 “Don’t bring her into this, Nick,” He muttered. My heart was racing, about to crawl out from under the bed until I heard more shots. A gunfight was raging through the house as I heard Troy’s provocative yells directed towards the Nation.

 Hearing heavy footsteps come up the stairs, the door to the room busted open, two sets of feet coming into the room.

 “Y/N?” Troy asked and I let out a sigh of relief, poking my head out from under the bed, seeing Troy and Nick standing in front of me. “You need to leave the house. I can’t have you getting hurt,” He mumbled as I got out from under the bed. My eyes trailed down his figure, noticing his bloody left hand and I gasped, grabbing it.

 “What happened?” I asked, examining it closely as I went to grab something to wrap it.

 “It’s nothing. Y/N… Y/N!” Troy yelled, making me stop in my tracks. I turned towards him, frowning as he sighed, strolling over towards me. “Please… I need you to go. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you got hurt,” He whispered, pushing some hair out of my face.

 I nodded my head, wrapping my arms around his waist, inhaling his scent. Tears began to slide down my cheeks knowing this isn’t going to end well for him. I walked past him towards Nick, resting a hand on his arm.

 “Don’t let them kill him… promise me?” I whispered quietly as Troy grabbed a rifle from under the bed. Nick nodded his head, giving me a quick hug before I run out of the room, running out of the house. People held up their weapons towards me, making me skid, falling to the ground. “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” I muttered, my hands in surrender as they lowered the guns.

 Madison ran towards me, helping me off the ground as she brought me to the bunkhouse. I kept glancing back at the house, my lip quivering as we walked into the room. “Maddie?” I quietly called out as she opened the door.

 “Yeah?” She replied, looking back at me as I stood in the middle of the room, ready to collapse any minute.

 “This is going to end badly, isn’t it?” I asked and she sighed, slowly nodding her head. A sob escaped my lips, crumbling to the floor, holding my hand over my mouth. Maddie whispered that she’d be back, heading back towards the shooting as I leaned up against the wall, closing my eyes as tears continued to slide down my cheeks.

 I sat against the wall for about an hour, staring into nothing as I played with the end of my fingers, hoping that Troy’s okay. I sniffed, rubbing my nose as the door opened slowly, watching Nick come inside. I got off the floor, stumbling towards him. “Nick, where’s Troy?” I asked just as Troy walked into the bunkhouse.

 I ran over to him, tackling him into a hug, crying softly into his chest. His arms wrapped around my back, rubbing it softly as his nose was buried in my neck. One of my hands ran through his luscious locks, holding back the sobs as we stood there, intertwined with each other, for about a minute.

 “Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Nick mentioned and I pulled away from Troy. I nodded my head, walking towards the door as Troy went to go sit at the small table. Nick and I walked outside, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at the ground. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but Troy and myself are going to have to pay for the actions he did tonight.”

 “W-What are they going to do to him? What are they going to do to you?” I asked, running a hand through my hair, taking deep breaths.

 “I don’t know what they have planned for me yet, but I know there’s a possibility of Troy being exiled. It’s going to be your last night with him…” Nick muttered and my heart stopped. Exiled?

 “Oh no. No, no, no,” I cried, covering my face with my hands. Nick rubbed my back softly, bringing me into a hug as I gripped his army jacket. “I tried to convince my mom of having a lesser punishment, but I don’t think Walker’s going to budge. I’m sorry. I know how much you care for him. He needs you right now, alright?” He told me and I nodded my head in his chest, letting out a sigh.

 “Thanks for telling me, Nick. Be safe okay? I don’t know what kind of punishment you’ll get, but be safe. Don’t do anything rash like Troy.” I mumbled, patting his shoulder.

 I walked back into the bunkhouse, grabbing the first aid kit before sitting down next to him. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I grabbed his injured hand, unwrapping the cloth he had tied around it. I treated it and placed some gauze and wrap on it before holding it. I intertwined our fingers as it became a little difficult to see clearly with the tears pooling.

 “Troy, I-I don’t understand,” I mumbled, glancing up at him as his blue eyes were on me. “Why did you do this?” I asked quietly.

 “I don’t really have a good reason you’d want to hear,” He told me, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.

 For tonight

Let’s love like there’s no goodbyes (no goodbyes)

 “I don’t want you to go…” I mumbled, looking down at my shoes, squeezing my eyes shut. “I don’t wanna say goodbye.”

 “Then don’t,” Troy whispered, pulling my from the chair and lifts my chin up. I glance up at him as he stroked my cheek. “I’ve always loved you, you know,” He muttered, frowning softly as I bit my lip.

 “I love you so much,” I murmured quietly. Troy leaned his face down, pressing his lips to mine softly. I laid my hand against one of his cheeks, leaning on my tippy toes, melting into the kiss a bit. I move my lips against his as his hands came down behind my thighs, picking me up before laying me down on one of the beds.

 Just for tonight

Pretend that it’s all alright (all alright)

 My eyes fluttered shut as his lips never left mine, his body hovering over mine. I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my chest and butterflies soar in my stomach as his hands pushed my shirt up slightly. I gasped when his cold fingers hit my warm skin, gripping his shirt as he brushed his lips against mine before moving them down my jawline.

 Why don’t we hold each other, use each other, whisper pretty lies?

Just for tonight

Let’s love like there’s no goodbyes (no goodbyes)

 “Troy…” I moaned, his teeth nipping at the skin under my earlobe, my fingers trailing through his brown curls. He continued sucking and biting my skin, creating a mark on my skin before continuing to kiss downward. Troy sat up, bringing me with him as he pulled my shirt over my head, throwing it to the floor.

 I did the same with him, pulling off his green flannel tossing it to the side as he pulled off his shirt. My eyes trailed down his chest as my fingers softly moved down the center of his torso. Troy pushed his lips against mine, feeling the need and hunger in the kiss as he undid my bra, exposing my breasts.

 In a dark room

We don’t have to see the light of truth between me and you

We can stay blind in the meantime

 I laid back on the bed, the moonlight shining dimly into the bunkhouse as Troy left wet kisses down the valley between my breasts. My hands reached above my head, gripping the pillow as he began to unbutton my pants, pulling them down.

 “You’re so beautiful,” Troy whispered, pressing his lips to my thighs. I started to breath heavily, my panties pooling with arousal as his thumb came into contact with my panty-covered clit. I let out a small gasp, bucking my hips up a bit as I leaned my head back.

 “Fuck, Troy,” I moaned out a little louder as he pressed his thumb harder against my clit, his lips wrapping around one of my nipples. Troy’s tongue circled around my nipple, tugging on it with his teeth before moving onto the next one. I mewled quietly, gripping his hair as he pushed my panties to the side, stroking his fingers through my wet folds.

 Troy’s lips left my nipple, staring up at me as he slid two of his fingers into me. I arch my back, letting out a low moan as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me. He placed a soft kiss to my lips before nuzzling his head into my neck. “You like this baby?” He whispered huskily into my ear, goosebumps spreading across my arms as I shivered.

 “Y-Yes. It’d be better if you went faster, though,” I moaned out, gripping his bicep as his fingers began to move faster, leaving small kisses on my neck. The tips of his fingers brushed my sweet spot, moaning out his name.

 My hands moved to his cheeks, pulling his face up towards mine, pressing our lips together as his fingers left my folds. Troy let out a deep breath, running his fingers through my hair as his other hand fumbled with his belt. He managed to get it off with one hand, pulling his pants and boxers off.

 I sat up as he laid down on the bed, his hand wrapped around his length, smirking at me. I felt my cheeks heat up, glad he couldn’t see me blush furiously. I was about to go down on him, my hand grasping his hardened length when he stopped me.

 “I need you now,” Troy growled, sitting up slightly, connecting our lips, softly biting my bottom lip. “Ride me well, baby girl,” He muttered against my lips, his hands wrapping around my thighs, bringing me onto his lap.

 -

 I woke up to the sun in my eyes, groaning as I sat up, looking around the room. I frowned, remembering the events of last night before Troy and I had our intimate moment. I glanced down at the sleeping man, already feeling my eyes stinging. I grabbed the hand that was resting on my stomach, pressing my lips to the back of his hand.

 I slipped out of bed, quietly getting dressed as my mind raced with thoughts. I don’t want him to leave. I sniffled quietly, wiping the tear that managed to escape from my eye as there was a knock on the door. “Troy,” I muttered, crouching in front of the bed, analyzing his peaceful face. “Baby, you gotta wake up,” I whispered, pushing some hair out of his face.

 Troy stirred, grabbing my hand, intertwining our fingers as his eyes fluttered open. “Morning, Y/N,” His voice rasped out. I gave him a small smile, looking to the floor.

 “Someone’s here. Get dressed,” I told him, standing up before walking over to the door, seeing a very pale Jake standing on the other side of it.

 I opened the door as Troy finished getting dressed, sitting down at the table he sat at last night when he first got here. Jake gave me a small smile, hugging me tightly as I tried to hold the tears in.

 “How are you holding up?” He asked me and I shrugged, glancing over towards Troy.

 “Not very well. There was a point last night where it didn’t come to my mind,” I muttered while staring at Troy, his lips perking up a bit. “But now? I can’t handle it. Isn’t there any other way?” I asked Jake and he shook his head.

 I nodded my head, looking at the ground as I hugged my arms. “I’ll leave you two alone,” I whispered, walking out the door. I walked towards the group of people, finding myself standing next to Alicia. I felt her eyes on me as I glanced up, seeing her sad ones and I broke.

 A sob had escaped my throat as she wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back softly while I cried in her chest. The others were staring at us, some with saddened faces while others had no emotion written on them at all. Troy and Jake walked out of the cabin, walking over to the truck as one of Walker’s men placed zip ties around his wrists.

 Maybe one day I’ll see you

Just smile and wave and be okay

For tonight Let's love like there's no goodbyes For tonight Pretend that it's all alright (all alright) Why don't we hold each other, use each other, whisper pretty lies? Just for tonight Let's love like there's no goodbyes (no goodbyes)

 “Y/N…” Troy called out and I lifted my head from Alicia’s shoulder, glancing towards him as me motioned for me to go over to him. “It’s going to be okay” He whispered, taking my hands in his as I shook my head.

 “It’s not, Troy. I-I can’t do this without you,” I muttered, tears sliding down my cheeks as I looked up at him. “I’ll find you. I promise you. I-I just need you to stay alive,” I whispered, gripping his shirt as he rested his forehead against mine.

 “I will. I love you,” He whispered quietly as more tears began to fall, sniffling. I wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying as much of his company as I can before they take him away from me.

 “I love you too,” I muttered, pressing my lips to his, putting all the love I’ve had over the years for him into it.

 “Alright, c’mon,” Walker broke us up as one of his men put a bag over his head, placing him in the truck. Madison began to drive off as Jake stood next to me, rubbing my back softly.

I’ll find you, I thought to myself, my heart breaking slightly as I walked away from everyone.