#i couldn't settle on one moodboard for the fic

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Not Without You Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester xf!reader, Dean POV and Reader POV

Summary: A cursed crown, teenagers, an evil goddess bent on revenge, and two best friends who have secretly been in love for years. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 11.7K

Tropes: Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers (Eventual), Cursed Objects, Supernatural Scenarios.

Warnings: Fluff, Flirting, Cursing, Violence, Drama Mutual Pining, A little bit of self deprecation (Dean), Sadness, Angst (it's me are y'all surprised?). KIDNAPPING (or adult-napping?), Older Dean? A little bit of a fix it fic to the ending of Supernatural, Reader is also a hunter but a bit soft, Reader likes to cook and tease Dean, Sexual Innuendo, Sexualish thoughts? Dean might be a little bit OOC.

A/N: Hey y'all I started writing this fic for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! She made the super awesome moodboard pictured above! I'm not going to lie I didn't mean for this to be more than one part, but I couldn't stop.

Internal monologue is in first person and is in italics.

Here In A Forest Dark and Deep, I Offer You Eternal Sleep...

There is a place where the sun dare not go, where shadows slip and curl over smooth rocks glazed with dew, where the river boils and froths with white, and where a snarl of branches twist and tangle overhead.

A place where the wind breathes through the eaves, sending leaves to scuttle and crackle over stone. A place that no one man can find. A place that time no longer touches.

An ancient place deep and dark and full of secrets.

A hidden crag overgrown with grass and vine where darkness writhes, silent, restless, shielded from sun and storm. Waiting in the broken remnants of a forbidden grove lost to time.

She slumbers there.

Forgotten.

Buried.

Nothing more than a myth from a world bathed in blood and silver. The cave rumbles with the memory of times forgotten. The clash of swords, the sharp tang of blood, the caw of the birds that feasted on the fallen, the roars of men scorned, and the cries of despair from the women left behind to waste into nothing waiting for them to return

Still she sleeps.

Enrobed in emerald.

Entombed in cobwebs.

Waiting in the still silence for someone to speak her name and call her forth from this forgotten tomb.

And when the world burns she will claim what is owed her.

Dean POV

Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong.

Frankly, in his life something was always wrong, and years of him living out on the road chasing after things that went bump in the night meant that he was usually better at pin pointing directly what that was.

But not right now.

Right now, Dean Winchester felt like a cardboard box that went toe to toe with a semi-truck.

He groans to himself as he stirs from an unfit sleep, feeling the bones of his arms pop as he stretches them above his head, groaning again before settling down into the creaky bed. He'd been up late researching a case, the evidence of which was strewn all over the small motel room he was inhabiting.

Scraps of paper, books, and printed newspaper articles were in different stages of crumple all over the bed and the small table under the front window was covered in papers and stacked high with ancient books, kept company by a week old half-drunk bottle of beer and a greasy bag full of stale fries that stagnated nearby. A broken pen drips black ink from the table in a steady thump, the sunflower shaped stain growing steadily across the musty red carpet.

Dean presses his palms into his eyes, with another groan, the throb of his head like a thunderclap.

Fuck, I drank too much last night.

He had.

Dean was stuck in a rut and he'd thought that by drinking a little more, maybe he'd be able to crack the case that had held him hostage for the past two weeks in the armpit of America, but he still had nothing.

Zero, Zilch, Nada.

The three murders that had caught his attention two weeks ago now mocked him from every angle of the disheveled motel room. He'd exhausted every option, read every page of his dad's journal, called every number in his phone, but no one seemed to be able to find a connection between the three men who were killed.

The only person he hadn't called was Sam.

A frown pulled on the end of Dean's mouth at the thought of his brother. He hadn't spoken to him in… Dean scrunches up his face trying to remember the last time he talked to Sam.

Can't have been more than a few days? Okay maybe a week-

The thought of his brother made a dull ache throb in the center of his chest, the guilt that Dean was trying to ignore coming to the surface when he was still half asleep and vulnerable.

Things were different now.

Dean didn't want to bother his brother with something like this, not when Sam was living the white-picket fence American Dream out west with Eileen who was pregnant and due any day. Dean knew that his brother didn't need the extra stress, Sam had a new job, he was moving on from all of this, and Sam didn't need a reminder of the life he used to have. Not when Sam had a new life that made him happy.

And not when Dean didn't know who he was or what he was hanging on to anymore. Sometimes Dean wasn't sure if he was still chasing after things that other people ran from or after the young man he used to be.

Dean was reminded of that every morning when he woke up, the gray flecks in his hair and beard that had become more prominent, the crows feet beneath his eyes rimmed with dark circles, and the way his back and knees cracked when he stood up. Dean was still in good shape, but lately he was feeling his age more than anything else.

Maybe it was because everyone else was moving on and he wasn't sure who he was anymore.

The lack of sleep didn't help, but Dean had been dealing with it all the way he usually did, by pushing down his feelings into the deep dark hole where they wouldn't see the light of day. The same feelings that began to unravel in the middle of the night when all was quiet and kept Dean from the sound sleep he so desperately needed.

Dean sits up a little too quick and sighs to himself when his head spins. He was in desperate need of coffee, or something to make the hangover stop. He sniffs the air, still not opening his eyes, and runs his right hand through his hair shaking through the blondish-brown strands.

The strong smell of coffee and cinnamon floats through the air making Dean’s stomach rumble.

Shit. I want it so bad I’m imagining it. Oh wait no. Maybe I’m having a stroke. Is that toast?!

"Morning Sunshine." A familiar voice sing-songs. "How'd you sleep?"

Dean's head snaps up to the small kitchenette, while one of his hands instinctively goes for the gun underneath his pillow.

You're standing there with a wide smile on your face, a spatula in one hand, and wearing one of Dean's favorite t-shirts over a pair of blue jeans. Your eyes sparkle with mirth at the sight of Dean, hair mused from sleep, eyes just a little manic in surprise at your greeting.

Dean blinks for a second, not sure if it's really you or if he's still dreaming. The cold metal of the gun shoved under his pillow grounds him. He says your name hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in, see if you were eating trash." You gesture with the spatula to the greasy brown paper bag on the table by the door and the large pile of to-go boxes in the trashcan. "Something you want to confess to?"

"Those aren’t mine officer." Dean cracks an easy grin holding up his hands in surrender, the gun forgotten.

It felt good to smile. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had.

"Still a bad liar." You roll your eyes and turn back to the hotplate. "I'm borrowing your shirt, because it was pouring when I got here and my duffel got wet. And before you say anything, I know, I know I should get a new one, but it's my lucky bag! And my lucky bag just so happens to not be waterproof."

Dean spots your duffle by the front door where it's split open and multicolored clothes erupt out of it. He leans forward to look into his bathroom, catching a peak of your clothes hanging from various places to dry. Something stirs in the pit of his stomach when he sees a collection of bras hanging from the towel rack, and he tries to avoid getting too excited at the image of you wearing them.

Dean and you had been best friends since you were both twelve. His dad and yours had served in the war together, a fellow soldier who stumbled upon the supernatural in his own right. And every few months your dad and Dean's would plop Sam, him, and you in front of a tv in a motel room and go off to get a drink. They'd be gone for hours, while Sam, Dean, and you gorged yourself on junk food and late-night TV.

And despite what Dean thought about girls at that time, you were cool. You knew just as much about cars as he did, you too were obsessed with rock music, you knew how to handle yourself, and you weren't afraid of anything.

As the two of you grew up, you never lost touch. You’d text each other from the road, complain about your dads, exchange mix tapes of music that you’d burned (Dean had a whole box under the front seat of Baby that was purely music you'd given him), shared motel rooms, joined each other on hunts, and you’d call him whenever you could, talking for hours into the night so long that Dean would close his eyes and pretend that you were laying there right beside him instead of miles away.

Dean loved it when that happened. When his mind wouldn't shut up and he needed something to distract him, and all it took was you calling in the middle of the night to send him off into the sweet abyss of sleep while he imagined you laying beside him.

Dean didn't know how you did it, but you always seemed to know when he needed you, almost as if you had a supernatural alarm that went off in your head whenever he was lonely.

Which was a lot especially now that Sam was gone. And usually Dean would try to find someone to occupy his time at a local bar, but lately he hadn't wanted to, all he'd wanted was to talk to you. Every time that something happened, you were right there, the person that Dean always needed when things went to shit.

But it wasn't just in the bad.

Whenever he and Sam were out on the road, sometimes you'd bump into them calling it a 'happy accident,' and Dean and you would lay on his bed at a motel talking and listening to a mixtape through a walk-man, sharing the earbuds just like you used to when you were teenagers lounging in Baby's backseat drinking milkshakes and eating French fries. And when Dean woke up in the morning with his body curved protectively around yours while you curled into him, your soft breath on his neck and his face buried in your hair, it felt right, as if you belonged there in his arms.

But despite everything the two of you had been through, you were just friends.

A thirty-four year friendship and Dean didn't want to mess that up. He'd messed up so many things in his life, lost so much, and he couldn't lose you. You were more than just his friend, you were his family as much as Sam. And Dean knew that his feelings had passed friendship forever ago, but he refused to act on it.

Not when Dean was sure he wouldn't recover if you ever cut him out of your life.

So Dean did his best to pretend. Pretend that he didn't imagine a life with you beyond all of this, beyond all the running, and the hunting. Because Dean would never admit this out loud, but he was tired.

He was so tired and sometimes when the world slowed down and there was only the quiet of the night, the buzz of the whiskey in his system, and the whisper of your voice in his ear, Dean imagined more. He imagined what it would be like if the two of you had something like Sam and Eileen, what that would look like, if it could happen.

Dean wasn't sure that he'd ever be able to have what his brother had. If he deserved that. He'd tried with Lisa and he still couldn't think about her without feeling an ache in the pit of his stomach.

Sometimes Dean wondered if you wanted that too. He'd heard you talk about slowing down in the past, finally settling down, getting away from all of this, but other than a handful of boyfriends that Dean never once got along with (including one whom he broke his nose), Dean had never seen you try.

He wished you would. Not that Dean wanted you to be with anyone else, just that Dean wanted you to be safe, not out along the road God knows where dealing with this shit alone. He'd been doing this as long as you had and he still knew that sometimes he needed help even if he didn't ever admit it aloud or want to.

Not to mention that lately all he could think about was you. His anxiety since Sam left had only worsened and his phone calls to you had gone from 3-4 a week to every day.

Dean needed to hear your voice. He was an addict of the worst kind, but he didn't care. Not when hearing you say his name was like a soothing balm, a cold beer after a long hunt, a hot shower that made each muscle un-tense and unwind, and a strong but steady hand braced against his shoulder.

But being here with you in person, couldn't compare to that feeling.

"But I'm pretty sure this is mine and you stole it." You continue, thumbing the soft fabric at the bottom of the shirt with your free hand, oblivious to Dean's train of thought. "Been looking everywhere for it."

"No way!" Dean exclaims getting out of bed. "That's my Metallica shirt. Got it twenty years ago."

"I remember buying this shirt from a vendor young enough to be my son, who kept mispronouncing the name of the lead singer, while you complained that we were missing the opening song." There's a flash of silver from a knife as you begin to cut up a handful of strawberries with a practiced precision, twirling it in your hand once for show.

"We were missing the opening song." Dean laughs. "And I paid for it!"

"Yes, but you said you wanted to get me something and I wanted to get a shirt before the concert, because who knows what would be left over after!"

Dean only shakes his head at you. "I think you're just getting old Sweetheart. They say the memory is the first thing to go." Dean smirks, while you give him a death glare over your shoulder.

"Say what you want," You point the knife at him in a cute, but threatening way, "but you've had custody of this for twenty years, and now it's my turn."

Dean rolls his eyes, before his gaze sweeps through the small kitchenette and he notices the collection of plastic bags on the counter. It looked like you’d brought enough groceries to feed a small army despite there being only two of you. You always did that whenever you showed up, toting food that Dean wouldn't usually have around. He frowned at the prospect of eating vegetables.

But Dean didn't care, you were here and that's all that mattered. And he also hoped that the large amount of groceries meant that you would be staying with him for a while.

He'd missed you more than he realized.

Sure the two of you talked on the phone at least four times each week and Dean always got a random text from you at sometime during the day, but nothing compared to being here with you.

He approaches slowly, sniffing the air again while he tries to figure out what you're cooking and if he'll eat it. Dean wasn't sure he'd like it. Not that you were a bad cook, but over the past few years you'd been trying to get him to eat a little healthier. Sneaking vitamins into his burgers, making things that had less grease and more greens, and Dean would sigh and eat every bite because you told him to.

Of course you would complain almost as much as he did about eating healthy. You weren't exactly a health food nut and loved fast food, but you knew that Dean rarely got a good home cooked meal and Dean thought it was kinda cute when you'd show up toting bags filled with fruits and vegetables out of the blue talking about A1C numbers.

He stops about a foot behind where you're fusing with a frying pan on the stove, turning over some white object with the spatula.

"Hey." Dean says softly, leaning back on his heels.

You turn around to look at him, really look at him. "Hi." Your smile makes Dean a little weak in the knees.

The hug that follows sets Dean on fire.

You pull him in tight, nuzzling your face into his chest with a happy sigh, while Dean curves his entire body around you. It was moments like this that Dean thought that you were made for him, because there was a little you-shaped nook under his jaw that allowed him to rest his chin on the top of your head while he squeezes you just as tight against him.

The smell of cinnamon and something citrusy comes as he holds you closer, the same perfume you'd had since you were sixteen, the one that you always left behind when you stayed with him. Sometimes Dean found himself using the pillow you borrowed when you left, inhaling the smell of your shampoo until it faded and there was nothing.

When you were with him Dean actually slept, as if just being in your presence made all the anxiety and the memories of the past fade away.

He could feel a melancholic feeling bubbling up in the back of his throat as he holds you, something he can't name, but embraces. Dean feels your hands slowly rub up and down his back in a soothing motion that makes him tighten his grip and lean further into you so heavily that you stumble back a little step.

When you laugh Dean feels like he's in heaven.

"Missed me huh?" You murmur into his shirt, but you don't let go of him.

More than you know.

"Nope."

"Liar." Your body shakes with your giggle as you pull back to look at him, still not completely releasing him. "I missed you too."

"I know. You can't live without me." Dean smirks.

He watches you raise an eyebrow to challenge him.

"Says the guy holding on so tight he's going to snap my spine." You joke, but Dean watches something flash in your eyes that isn't humor, and you gently release him so you can touch his cheek. Your thumb gently traces over his cheekbone, palm cupping his strong jaw.

Dean swallows at the sudden contact, his heartbeat fluttering like a damn teenager, but he can't stop himself from leaning into your hand. Despite your time as a hunter, the palm of your hand is soft, your touch reverent as you cup his jaw, not bothered by the prick of stubble that Dean is sure you can feel.

It was longer than usual. Dean kept putting off shaving, it had been a few days and he was sure that you were clocking the beard.

"I was worried about you." You say with a soft sigh, a worried frown on your face.  "You sounded bad on the phone last night, and when I called Sam he said you've been dodging his calls."

"I'm fine." Dean sighs, but he knows that you can see right through him, that there's no point of trying to lie. "And I have not been dodging his calls! He just happens to call at the worst time."

"Uh-huh. Well how come whenever I call, you pick up?"

"Because you have better timing than Sammy, always have Sweetheart."

You roll your eyes at him, but don't move your hand from his cheek. Dean watches your gaze soften as you study him, eyes tracing his features in a way that always makes Dean feel stripped bare, open, and vulnerable.

"Really Dean. How are you?"

He sighs again, debating if he should try to lie again, but he knew that it was fruitless. You knew him better than he knew himself, not to mention you could always tell when he was lying. Your internal lie detector for his bullshit was practically mystical. Dean never understood how you did it, just that he hated it.

Not really.

"Don't try to lie. We both know you can’t do that to me." You narrow your eyes, brow furrowed, but you don't lose the concern that hangs heavy in your gaze.

"I'm a little tired." He admits reluctantly.

"I could have told you that."

"Shut up." Dean snorts out a laugh, but then raises his own hand to touch the dark circles ringed under your eyes. "How long did you drive to get here?"

"Few hours." You shrug.

Dean's frown deepens. Just as you could tell when he lied, Dean knew every tick you had. The twitch of your upper lip, the subtle tilt of your head, the arch of an eyebrow- Dean knew you better than he knew himself.

"Fine, ten but-"

"Are you kidding me? Ten straight?! You should be asleep, not cooking for me."

Damn it she always does this. She always runs herself so thin.

Of course this was also the same thing that you'd said to Dean countless times and he never listened. It was different, he was him and you were you.

You were more important.

"I like cooking for you Deanie." You pinch his cheek with a grin, using the stupid nickname you made up for him years ago. Usually it makes Dean roll his eyes, but not tonight. He missed you so damn much that it makes him smile. "Plus I drank way too much coffee on the way in and I have so much energy. I'm waiting to hit the wall. While you were asleep I also thought about reorganizing your bag, but I didn't want to snoop through your dirty underwear."

"Hasn’t stopped you before." Dean smirks.

"Shut up, I do not snoop through your dirty underwear. Just your clean clothes for shirts that are mine."

"It's not yours and you're not keeping it!"

"It is and I am. Now sit down." You shoo him away to the small folding table that you'd pulled down from the wall and set for breakfast. "I would have woken you up, but you're like a damn grizzly bear in the morning so I thought I'd play it safe and let you follow your nose."

"For the fruity taste that shows." Dean chuckles.

"You can remember the Fruit Loops commercial, but you can't remember to not eat fried food at every meal?"

"Priorities, sweetheart."

“Dean I’m serious. We’re not kids anymore, you can’t eat how you usually do without consequences. You know that cheese looks exactly the same in your arteries as it does on a plate and I-" You continue to chatter, subtly scraping a spatula along the bottom of the pan on the stove, but Dean doesn't hear any of it.

Yeah. We’re not kids anymore.

He thinks to himself as his eyes trace your figure. Dean could still see the shades of the girl he met when he was a boy, the one with the bright eyes that always saw through him and the wide smile that made him feel like his insides were molten lava.  The same girl who knew whenever Dean needed her, the same girl that always made sure he was taken care of, the same girl who always had his back, and the same girl that Dean had loved since the moment he first saw her.

Sitting there, watching you cook in the small kitchenette Dean couldn't help but admire the woman you became. Although you were only a few months younger than him, age had been kinder to you than him.

The few gray hairs that wove through the hair you had tied at the back of your head were like braided silver, the curves of your figure softened by a gentle hand, and the smile lines on your face only made you look kinder, softer. Nothing like the hunter Dean knew you were. There were signs of wear around your eyes that Dean didn't like, the permanent dark circles that curved under your eyes a little more prominent this morning, but you were still just as beautiful as the day Dean met you.

And even though you kept saying that it was your shirt, Dean was trying not to focus on how good you looked in his clothes or how it made him think that you looked like you were his.

The thought makes an uncomfortable feeling rise in his chest.

As much as Dean wanted you, there was another part of him that whispered that you deserved better than him, that out there was a man who was worthy of your love, not him. Not someone broken down from years of hunting, not someone who barely knew who they were anymore, and not someone who would only drag you down.

“Dean did you hear what I asked?” You say raising an eyebrow.

“Nope.” He clears his throat, shaking off the feeling that makes his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

You huff out a sigh as if you're not surprised. “I asked when was the last time you ate something green?”

“Last night.”

Dean watches you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “A piece of lettuce on a burger does not count.”

“It’s green-“

“And I bet you picked it off.”

“It left it’s essence behind!”

“Ah yes essence of wilted leaf. How nutritious.” You huff out an annoyed sigh, but when you turn back to him there’s humor flickering in your eyes. “Here.” You place a plate in front of him. “Egg white omelet with spinach and onions, a piece of bacon, fruit salad, and oatmeal.”

Dean wrinkles his nose in disgust and mashes his spoon down into the oatmeal like a toddler, squishing it around on the plate.

This looks like brains.

“And if you eat it all," You continue as you turn back to the counter for the glass decanter of coffee. "I’ll give you an extra piece of bacon.”

“Real bacon?” Dean perks up at the thought.

“Yep. 100% heart attack inducing, cholesterol raising, pig bacon.”

“Fine.”  He grumbles.

“Good boy.” You snort setting down a cup of black coffee to the left of his plate. “You know, Sam didn’t give me any trouble when I used to make breakfast for him too.”

“Sam’s a health food freak. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and Eileen are vegan now.” Dean says beginning to shovel the omelet into his mouth.

He fights the urge to moan out in pleasure. He wasn't expecting it to taste so good. You were always a good cook, but Dean still hadn’t expected this to taste anything like this.

Dean glances up and sees the triumphant smile on your face. "Good huh?"

"It’s okay." He mutters through a mouthful of egg and spinach.

"You're insufferable." You throw a grape at him. "But I don't think they're vegan. Eileen's got the ultimate diet now. None." You sigh mournfully, trailing one hand down to your stomach, squeezing and make a face. "Oh to be pregnant and not worry about gaining the extra weight. I swear I've been trying to exercise more, and it does absolutely nothing-"

"I think you look beautiful." The words slip out of Dean's mouth before he can stop them, and he tenses, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

"Aww." You lean over to pinch his cheek with a sweet smile. "Thanks Deanie. But no amount of flattery will get you any brown sugar for your oatmeal."

Dean laughs a little too hard for that to cover up his slip, but something inside sinks a little bit when you don't react to his compliment. He wished that you believed him. The uncomfortable feeling comes back, this time pinching just under his rib cage. He hated when you spoke that way about yourself, and Dean noticed that you had started to say things like that more and more as the years crept by.

Making faces at your reflection and making subtle comments under your breath mocking all the ways your body had changed and aged. But the truth was, you were beautiful, always had been beautiful to him. And even though you could never see it, Dean did. He thought that the years made you only look better, aged you like a fine wine as cliche as that sounded.

"Okay. I am going to take a shower and wash the road off, then we can talk shop and figure out how to solve this case."  You say walking over to your duffle, sorting through for your toiletries bag.

"And how do you know I haven't solved it?" Dean asks, glancing over his shoulder at where you're bending over your bag.

He's trying not to stare at your ass, he really is, but damn it those jeans are his favorite. Somehow they're worn in just right, accentuating the natural curves of your body and your butt. He swallows the lump in his throat and starts to think about taxes, AI, Clowns, the skin that shapeshifters leave behind- anything to avoid the situation happening in his very thin sweatpants that would leave absolutely nothing to the imagination if his mind kept going down the road it was.

Damn it. Get it together Winchester.

"The beard is kinda a dead give-away." You straighten from the duffle, cocking your hip to the side, and lean back as you look through the smaller fabric bag of toiletries in your hand, looking for something that Dean can't see.

Dean clears his throat, trying not to notice the way your boobs are pushed out from your chest as you lean back.

Sam’s chubby imaginary friend. That ridiculous suicidal teddy bear. Rowena- Okay wait that last one is not helping.

“You don’t like it?” Dean clears his throat.

It’s so hot in here.

“Oh I love it. Very sexy. Like a lumberjack who lives under the highway.” You smirk. “But when I’m done I kinda hope you take one too.”

“Why?”

“Because you also smell like a lumberjack who lives under the highway.”

“I thought I’d commit to the role.”

“Very convincing.” You start to walk to the bathroom, but when Dean turns around to his plate he feels your arms go around him once more. “I missed you Deanie.” You whisper on a soft breath, burying your face in the space between his shoulder and his neck.

Dean inhales another gulp of your perfume like an addict, relaxing into your embrace. It was the first time he could remember in a long time feeling relaxed, probably since the last time he saw you a few months ago, when you were helping him on a vamp case and saved him from a near miss with a twisted piece of metal.

Dean didn't like to think about 'what if,' but you did. And after when the two of you got back to the bunker, Dean remembered you hugging him and refusing to let him go for a while. It took your favorite mixtape that Dean burned for you when you were seventeen and sitting on his bed for an hour after to help you relax, until you fell asleep curled up against Dean muttering things that he couldn't understand into his chest.

He sighs to himself feeling the tightness of your arms around his body, leaning into you. “I missed you too sweetheart.”

Reader POV

"I cannot believe that you couldn't figure out this was a vengeful spirit." You snort, grabbing the shovel that Dean holds out to you.

The half moon above the cemetery bathed the tombstones in a silver glow, washing the concrete slabs white beneath its rays. The wind that sifted through the trees overhead held the chill of winter, rustling the branches, and sending the loose leaves down around where Dean and you were standing at the back of Baby.

It had taken you exactly forty five minutes to solve the case that had taken Dean two weeks. Maybe it was because luck was on your side and a fourth (not so lucky) victim was found this morning, or maybe it was because Dean was well…

You bite the inside of your cheek as you examine your best friend.

Dean looked bad.

You had heard it on the phone last night when he talked to you, sensed it in the way he spoke. The long pauses, the heavy sighs, even the words he was using… you knew that something was wrong.

And it scared you.

It scared you even more when Sam told you that Dean was dodging his calls. That was also never a good sign.

So you packed up in the middle of the night, abandoning the case you were on, and took a ten hour drive to get to Dean. You'd driven far longer for far less, but you didn't care.

When you'd lock picked the motel room door and seen the mess Dean was living in, it only justified the drive. Yes, Dean was usually a little more messy than you, but this was different.

The stacked to-go boxes and bottles of whiskey in the overflowing trash can, the empty beer bottles scattered around the room, the mess of his clothes on the floor, and even Dean himself. The stale smell of him and the beard were dead give aways for you. It broke your heart. You knew that Dean was lonely, had been for a long time, even when he was with Sam at the bunker, but now was worse.

Making him breakfast had made you feel a little better, seeing that he still had an appetite for something that wasn't in a bottle was comforting, but you knew that you weren't going to leave him anytime soon.

You were going to prolong this visit for as long as you had to, to make sure your best friend was okay. Dean was the only person you had left, besides Sam, but Sam was different than Dean. Sam was better at handling his emotions in a healthy way (most of the time), but Dean, no way.

If suppressing your feelings was an Olympic sport, Dean would be a gold medalist a million times over.

Besides, Sam had Eileen now, and that meant Dean was going to have you even if you annoyed him to death.

The thought of you being to Dean what Eileen was for Sam made butterflies erupt in the pit of your stomach. You knew that it was a complete cliché, the stuff of rom-coms and hallmark movies, falling in love with your best friend, but you had.

You can't exactly remember when... Okay you could.

When you were fifteen and Dean and Sam got dropped off at Bobby's, and Dean and you spent the night listening to mix-tapes in Baby's spacious backseat with your legs kicked up over the back of the front bucket seat sharing a milkshake. You remembered looking at Dean with the sound of Open Arms by Journey playing through the headphones and admiring the way the moonlight kissed his skin and how the starlight brought out the flecks of gold in his eyes.

But you couldn't act on it.

Nope, nope, nope.

Dean was Dean. And you didn't want to mess up the thirty four year friendship the two of you had by doing something stupid by confessing that you were in love with him and wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

You did.

The past few years as you'd gotten older you'd been thinking about settling down. Finding something a little more permanent, maybe finally trying to sell some of those paintings you'd been doing since you were a kid. The ones that your dad told you were a waste of time and Dean only encouraged by stealing the good paint and brushes from art stores to support your hobby. The backseat of your Bronco was loaded down with sketchpads bursting at the seams and each time you took a turn, there was always the roll of an oil pastel or a half-empty bottle of watercolor paint flying somewhere beneath the seat.

It would be nice to actually have a place to paint for real, maybe a small house or an apartment where the sun streamed through the open windows and a cool breeze rustled the hair at the nape of your neck while you lost yourself in the brilliant colors on the canvas. Somewhere it didn't feel like you were running around in circles doing the same thing over and over again, somewhere you could build a life with someone…

The problem was the only person you saw yourself building that life with was standing in front of you holding a shovel and a can of gasoline. And you knew that Dean didn't see you as more than a friend.

But could you blame me?

The years had been kinder to your best friend than to you. He'd grown so much from the little boy with the mischievous green eyes into a man with ruggedly good looks, freckles over his cheeks that kept Dean's boyish qualities, broad shoulders, and a sinfully perfect mouth that made your throat tight.

You'd stupidly thought that over the years your crush would go away, but it only grew. And you didn't know how Dean did it, but the age looked better on him than it did on you. The flecks of silver in his hair made him look even more devilishly handsome, the crinkles around his mouth that shown with his easy smile, and the beard.

That damn beard.

Yes, you'd also thought that Dean looked adorable with his hair all mused from sleep, but the beard. You'd been trying your hardest not to stare at him this morning when he woke up.  Made an off-hand joke about how the beard made him look like a lumberjack and homeless, but by the stars that beard made your brain short circuit. Not to mention coupled with the signature Dean Winchester smirk and the brilliant shine of his emerald eyes… fuck. It was like a walking Michelangelo sculpture. Each time you captured the planes of Dean’s face with charcoal, lead, or paint never seemed to compare to the real thing.

But you knew that your little crush was the exact kind of thing that could throw a monkey wrench into the most meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life, so you pretended it didn't exist.

Pretended that each time you saw Dean and he wrapped his arms around you didn't make you feel like you were coming home, pretended that you didn't sleep the best you ever had curled up in his arms at night, pretended that you could not see a future with him outside of all of this with a stupid white picket fence and a baby that had his smile and mischievous green eyes, and pretended that you weren't in love with him.

More importantly, you pretended that being his best friend was enough.

That being said you did allow yourself the indulgence of cooking for and taking care of Dean. You didn't care how much he complained or how much you didn't like salad, you knew that Dean needed to eat a good heart-healthy, home cooked meal once in a while. And you didn't care if you had to force feed it to him.

Dean Winchester is going to live to be a hundred and five damnit!

"Whoa. You don’t get to judge me for this, not with that super sniffer you have glued to your face." Dean pokes your nose with his fingertip. "How was I supposed to smell the differences in the wife's perfume and the perfume of his mistress?"

"Vanilla and Lavender are two very different smells." You shrug, shouldering the shovel.

In hindsight smelling the corpse at the crime scene was probably not your best move, but the smell of vanilla that wafted up when Dean flicked the victim's collar was so obvious you couldn't keep your mouth shut. And after smelling the strong scent of lavender on the victim's wife had only confirmed your suspicion, that he had been cheating on her.

Everything else had fallen into place, finding the newspaper article about a man who had died in the same way as all of the men forty years ago, talking to the man's son who told Dean and you through tears of his father's sins against his mother who had disappeared a few days before his father was found, and following the trail to the town cemetery was the final step in the process.

Salt and burn. Just like clockwork.

Truth be told you were a little bit disappointed on how quickly you solved the case, now you were coming up with excuses for you to stick around with Dean, maybe even go back to the bunker with him for a bit.

You knew that Dean didn't love to stay there as much as he had. The emptiness only reminded him of Sam's life somewhere else, but you were willing to stay there with him forever if that's what it took.

Even if that meant watching Dean charm the pants off every co-ed on the East Coast.

Because that's going to be so fun for me.

"I thought that somebody as slutty as you would be an expert in women's perfume." You muse with a smirk to hide the hurt at the thought of Dean with someone else.

Him going off with Lisa had hurt enough. That had been a long year.

Sure Dean still called and texted, but it was awkward. You didn't want to step on Lisa's toes. She was his girlfriend and he was living with her. The one time that you'd come by to stay with them for a few days had been one of the most awkward experiences of your life.

For one, when you'd showed up Lisa had been surprised that you were a girl because apparently Dean hadn't said anything to clue her in about that. And when you made dinner for all of them as a thank you for letting you stay, the whole time there had been this weird energy sitting in the dining room with the four of you, like a giant purple elephant that you couldn't see, but you could feel behind you squeezing it's trunk around your chest.

The last straw had been when you accidentally overheard a conversation between Dean and Lisa where he was trying to convince her that he'd never been more than friends with you and she didn't believe him.

"Did you just call me a slut?"

"Yep." You reply.

The cemetery was eerily silent. Somewhere off in the distance you could hear the sound of the ocean, the harsh crash of water against sand and the jingle of the ships at the docks in town where the water gently lapped against the strong wooden boards of the seaworthy vessels. The cloying smell of salt came on the wind that pulled almost playfully at your clothes, beckoning you to the darkness of the vast sea in the distance.

"Takes one to know one sweetheart." Dean calls from behind you before he slams shut the trunk of Baby with a loud 'thunk.' "Not all of us are blessed with a super nose. And unlike you I don't go around smelling dead people. I don't even know if there's a name for that fetish. Kinda feels like necrophilia."

"It's a blessing and a curse."

The beam of light from your flashlight brings a yellowish glow over the smooth tombstones, each one beaten soft by the wear of rain and wind.

"My gut says over there." Dean nudges his arm into yours towards the right.

"Your gut couldn't tell this was a vengeful spirit, why should I trust it now?" You raise an eyebrow, flashing the light into Dean's face.

He squints his eyes at the offensive beam, but it does little to make him look ugly. There was nothing that could do that. You were speaking from experience because you'd seen your best friend covered completely from head to toe in blood and guts and you'd still wanted to lay a big one on him.

Maybe there's a support group online for people who are in love with their best friends. Because I should join that.

"One time I've been wrong-"

"Phoenix." You say immediately.

Dean frowns at the memory. "Okay two times I've been-"

"Tallahassee."

"You're just listing state capitals." Dean sighs heavily.

"No, I am listing places in which you've been wrong. If you want I can call Sam to cross reference my sources."

"Don't call Sam." Dean pushes past you and begins to walk to the right with you following behind him.

"So are you going to tell me why you're dodging his calls?" You ask, sweeping the beam over the tombstones again to see if you can find the right person.

"I am not dodging his calls!" He shouts increasing his speed.

"Dean." You gently catch the back of his flannel.

He stops dead in his tracks, but does not turn around.

"I know you." You whisper. "I know when something is wrong. Come on."

There was something wrong, you knew it the moment you picked up the phone last night before you drove ten hours to get to him. Felt it in your bones. The hard part was just getting Dean to tell you.

"Come on what?" Dean half-turns to look at you. There's something lurking in his eyes, a flash of vulnerability that makes your heart break for him.

The shovel you have no longer seems important, so you lean it against a tombstone and tug on the bottom of Dean's shirt until he turns around to face you.

"It's just you and me here. There's no cameras, no canned audience, no one else. Talk to me." Your hand falls on the arm that Dean is carrying the gasoline in, smoothing the fabric of his leather jacket.

He hesitates for a moment, long enough that the wind picks up and rustles through his golden brown hair. It too seemed just a little longer than he usually kept it, and you fought the urge to run your fingers through it.

"I didn't want to bother him with all this." Dean mutters. "He's out there living his life, a real life, something that he's always wanted and he doesn't need me dragging him back into all of my shit."

"Dean-" You sigh. "He's your brother, you're not bothering him-"

This is so much worse than I thought.

"I am." Dean shakes his head. "He's moved on and I'm still here doing all of this and I-"

"Hey." Your hand moves up to cup his cheek before you can stop yourself. The prickle of stubble beneath your hand is familiar, reminds you of when you would wake up in the morning before he did and his chin would be resting on the top of your head while your face nudged into the space between his shoulder and his jaw. The little place against his throat where you always fit. "You're not going to bother Sam by telling him about what you're doing. He loves you and he's worried about you and I am too. And yes he's doing something different, but what you're doing is a life too. It might look different, but what you're doing matters."

Dean frowns a little, but doesn't answer.

"Dean." You say his name, this time bringing your other hand up to hold on to the other side of his face. "Just because you don't work in a fancy office or have a white picket fence does not mean your life isn't a life. It is. Everyone finds their own way. There isn't one carbon cut copy about what life is supposed to look like. No one can tell you how to live it, the only thing that you should care about is if it's a life that makes you happy." Your thumbs drift to his cheekbones gently brushing back and forth in a soothing movement.

"Does it make you happy?"

Dean's question catches you off guard. He hadn't asked you that in a long time and certainly not before he'd had at least one or two drinks. Dean's shovel leans next to yours and he reaches for your wrist, the warm roughness of his palm against the skin comforting.

You think about lying, but you know that Dean will only clock it. You hated how much Dean knew you.

Not really.

"I mean-" You clear your throat. "Lately not so much." Your hands drop from the sides of Dean's face, but he doesn't release your arm. His thumb gently smoothed over the skin on the inside of your wrist, comforting you the way you had comforted him. "But being here with you is making me feel a bit better. It always does."

Why did I say that? That’s way too much-

"Me too." Dean breathes.

Electricity dances between the two of you, curling up your arm where Dean still has his hand around your wrist gently cradling it between the two of you. And you see something flicker behind the warm, familiar gaze of your best friend, a ghost of something that you can't put a name to.

His words reverberate in your head, vibrating through your skin, bringing a warmth through your body and sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering.

Dean hasn't looked away from your face, his gaze focused as if he's waiting for something, watching for one of your ticks, but he won't find one. Not when Dean is looking at you the way you always wanted him to. You reach out to lay your hand against the front of his shirt, feeling the gentle beat of his heart beneath the palm of your hand.

Is this really happening?

Thunder rumbles in the distance over the sea, a storm brewing, the flash of lightning shattering the spell between the two of you.

"We better um- get this done." Dean clears his throat, releasing your wrist to find the shovel once more. "Don’t want to get caught in the rain."

"Yeah-" Your voice comes out a little high and squeaky. "Right."

The buzz of whatever the hell that was still thrums beneath your skin as you follow behind Dean, looking from tombstone to tombstone, trying to shake it off. And much to Dean's chagrin, his gut was correct, but he doesn't gloat, he just starts digging.

There's a part of you that wonders if it's because Dean is dwelling on what almost just happened- if there was an almost. You still were a little bit fuzzy about that. Your best friend was far from shy, when Dean wanted something he took it.

The silence grows between the two of you as you start to dig, so you decide to break it.

“How about after all this we drive out West and do some recon on Sam and Eileen?” You say, shoving the shovel deep into the hard earth.

“Really?” Dean asks with a grunt throwing a shovel of dirt over his shoulder.

“Yeah. We can stalk him when he goes to work, test out his security system at his house- just like how we used to when he was at Stanford.”

Dean and you had taken a few trips out West when Sam was at college. You'd always wanted to see the west coast and your dad was letting you go solo just as John let Dean solo. So naturally the two of you met up along the road and decided to cause some mischief.

It had been a nice trip, the feeling of the warm sun on your skin, the wind in your hair when Dean rolled down Baby's windows while the sound of classic rock pumped and hummed through the speakers. It was the closet you had come to a vacation, and something the two of you desperately needed. During the day you'd sit nestled in the front seat of Baby with a sketchpad perched on your lap that you didn’t have to hide from your dad, who told you that should be doing something else, something that mattered. At night Dean and you would share a motel room and when you'd woken up Dean was always on your side of the bed with his head buried in your hair, murmuring things in his sleep.

It was also nice to not worry about your dad for a while. He was as hard on you as John Winchester was on Dean, and you'd cut him out of your life a few years ago. Last time you heard from him was a voicemail two years ago telling you that he'd settled down somewhere in Texas and that he wanted to see you, but you couldn't.

Things hadn't ended well between the two of you and it was Dean who had blocked your father from getting closer to you while he shouted things over Dean's imposing figure that made you want to squeeze your eyes shut and turn away from him.

"That was a fun trip." Dean half-smiles.

"It was." His smile is encouraging. You noticed that in the time you'd been here Dean had been smiling more often, but you were still worried at him.

“You’d do that? Go with me?" He sounds hesitant.

"Of course I would do that for you Dean." You nudge him with your elbow. "I’d walk through fire for you, you’re my best friend. I would sing karaoke to 'Girls Just Want to Have Fun' for you." You hesitate. "Well maybe after a few drinks, but I would still do it."

He snorts. "I'd pay to see that sweetheart."

"Mhmm. And this time we'll be sure to bring sunscreen. Can't have you turning into a lobster again."

The only downside of the trip was that Dean had refused to wear sunscreen when the two of you stopped along the road at one of the beaches, and he'd turned the color of a tomato. Of course later when you were slathering him with aloe at the motel, dragging your hands down his arms and over his face, you could feel your own cheeks heating with your blush.

"How was I supposed to know that the sun was so damn powerful out there?!" Dean exclaims.

"Because I told you! You never listen to me."

"I do too listen to you!" He thrusts his shovel down into the earth with an increased enthusiasm, but instead of hitting the earth, there's a loud 'clunk.'

Guess we found it.

"No, you don't." You say as you crouch down to uncover the coffin with Dean.

"You know what? I'm not talking to you for five minutes."

"Toddler." You mutter under your breath. "You're a bit old for the silent treatment."

He doesn't answer and you roll your eyes again.

When the body is salted and burned, the warmth from the fire flares up from the grave, warming the chilled tips of your fingers, but you still shudder in the cold breeze. Dean's jacket comes down around your shoulders so fast you didn't realize that he noticed you shudder.

"Can't have you catching a cold Sweetheart." Dean flashes a signature grin that makes your knees weak. "Come on, let's get back to Baby. We can plan out where we're going on this road trip."

As the two of you make your way back through the cemetery, you see the beam of a flashlight on the other side of lot coupled with the high pitched squeal of laughter as it sweeps across the smooth weather beaten stones. Another rumble of thunder shakes the sky, rattling your teeth and vibrating against your skin.

Dean and you crouch down on instinct, and he makes a hand gesture.

You look at him confused.

The laughter gets closer, the people weaving through the graveyard, running after one another, oblivious to Dean and you.

He makes the hand gesture again.

"What?" You whisper.

He makes the gesture again.

"Dean, this isn't charades. Use your words. I can't understand what you're saying."

He sighs. "I was trying to tell you that it's okay, it's just kids." Dean whispers back.

"You could have just said that, you didn't have to make the gestures. Especially because you're the only person who understands them."

"I am not the only-" Dean huffs out a breath. He turns his head to watch two teenagers run by, giggling and laughing all the way as they do.

"Come on Shawn!" A girl shouts with a cackle lost on the wind, her blonde hair like a beacon, turning silver in the moonlight.

"I don't think we should be here!" The boy who you assume is Shawn shouts back, the beam from his flashlight flickers against his glasses.

"Don’t be such a wuss." The girl yells back over her shoulder. The lithe imprint of her form small and petite a contrast to the boy who stumbles behind.

Dean leans so close to you that his nose is pressed into your hair, his breath a warm exhale against your ear. "You wanna mess with them?"

A shiver travels down your spine with Dean's close proximity and you hope that he doesn't feel it. “You have to ask?”

“Come on.”

You leave your shovels and supplies behind, following behind the teenagers who laugh as they make their way through the lines of tombstones, but then something happens. They vanish.

"What?" You whisper in confusion, sweeping your eyes over the end of the cemetery. It came to an abrupt stop over a cliff that dropped off into the ocean over a thousand feet below. "Did they jump?"

The wind is harsher here, pulling and tugging at your clothes as if inviting you to fly with it, to jump into the darkness beyond and sink into the depths of the black sea below that writhes and splashes.

"This way." Dean tugs your elbow and turns you to a small set of steps that leads down the side of the cliff.

Okay. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Dean and you follow down the steps, unable to hear the laughter over the crashing of the waves against rock below, where the water rubs the stone smooth. And just when you think the steps will end, they twist and curve back into the cliff, depositing Dean and you in a cave.

"I still don't think this is a good idea Kayla." The boy, Shawn says. You can hear the tremor on the edge of his voice.

She obviously doesn't listen to him.

"Hey look at this!" You hear a girl's voice say. "I'm Queen of the world!"

Dean and you peer around the wet wall of the cave.

It's a crypt.

The walls further in are lined with bodies embalmed and wrapped in soft cloth, the musty smell of death wafting out to where the two of you are. Armor, chainmail, swords, and axes sit in neat piles to the left of the room, shining in the dull light of the beams. Various intricate designs are carved into the walls, semi-circles that entwine and tangle over the hewn stone, shining in the yellowed beam of the flashlights. 

The two kids from the graveyard are standing just a few feet in front of Dean and you, the boy has his back to you while the girl with the blonde hair who you guess is Kayla stands proudly on a rock wearing a crown.

You're sure that she must have found it a few moments ago, but something about it feels wrong. The crown is made of a silver metal, each point encrusted with emeralds that seem to absorb the light in the room rather than reflect it. Odder still is that for something sitting in a crypt, it doesn't look old, it looks brand new, not covered in the thick layer of dust like everything else in here.

Kayla wears it proudly, posing for an invisible camera. A low hum vibrates through the cave, hidden to the untrained ear beneath the distant rumble of thunder, and the crash of waves outside.

But you can.

"Dean." You mutter.

"I feel it too."

"I'm definitely wearing this to prom! Who cares about that plastic tiarra? This is a crown." Kayla giggles, taking it off to admire it in the light. "Oh look there's something written on it."

Oh no.

Before Dean and you can step forward to shut her up and stop her from pulling an Evil Dead, she begins to read the inscription. You have no idea what language it is, just that this is not good.

As soon as she finishes the last line, every single torch mounted on the walls flare to life without being lit.

Oh shit.

Kayla screams, throwing the crown down to the stone floor, clutching her hand. Her palm is seared a bright red, the imprint of the jewels forever etched into her skin.

"Kayla!" Shawn shouts rushing forward to see if she's okay.

"You just had to do it didn't you!" Dean says not bothering to hide as he comes out from teh mouth of the cave. "You just had to read the inscription off the creepy crown!"

"Who the fuck are you?!" Shawn stutters.

"Well I'd say I'm your worst nightmare, but I'm pretty sure we're about to meet whoever that is." Dean throws a knowing glance at you, but you're not focusing on that.

Because the entire room has gone silent. You can no longer hear the rumble of thunder, no longer feel the power of the storm brewing outside, no longer hear the sound of the crashing waves against the rocky cliff outside- there's nothing.

Just an eerie silence that hangs thick in the air.

The temperature in the room drops, sending a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps puckering against your skin while the hair at the back of your neck stands straight up."What the hell is going-" Kayla begins to sob, her ruined hand clutched to her chest, but Dean shushes her.

Shadows flicker and move around the edges of the cave, shifting into the forms of men and women running together like oil over water, rushing towards the crown that lies a few feet away.

The woman forms from the shades, born of darkness, of flesh and shadow as the dark imprints weave together, twisting and knotting, creating her from nothing.

Her skin is almost translucent white in the firelight, her hair a darkly woven web that tangles over her shoulders, while her eyes glow a menacing green. There is a necklace at the base of her throat, a strong mesh of iron to match the crown on her head and a collection of emeralds each one the size of your little finger.

The corpses that line the wall tremble in their cubbies, the rattle of bone and metal, and the stale smell of decayed flesh filling the room as they stir.

"Holy shit." Shawn gulps.

You can say that again.

Her robes are old fashioned, dark green, woven from strong fabric and imprinted with a twisted silver thread that forms sigils of stars and moons,  the garments flowing out behind her on some invisible wind that drifts through the crypt, but only seems to touch her. She makes no move towards you, only watches, her eyes piercing in the firelight.

The sound of the thunder outside is back, shaking the walls of the tomb and making the light from the torches flicker over the cold walls of the crypt.

Dean and you draw your guns at the same time, a reflex given you have no idea who or what she is.

You mentally go through the filo-fax in your head categorizing her into classes of what she could be. Comparing her to things you'd seen along the road. If not for the green robe she could be a woman in white. The way her skin is so sallow you can see the criss-cross of black veins beneath and the way her hair falls over her shoulders. But there's something about her you can't place, some throb of energy in the room that scuttles over your skin like a swarm of cockroaches, feels different than any other creature you've come along.

The woman's form flickers once as if she's not quite in the room with you, the motion sends a rustling through the bottom of her skirts, and the crypt fills with the smell of wet earth and dead leaves.

Dean pushes you behind him, a subconscious action that the woman clocks with a twitch of her bottom lip. Her head tilts just slightly, eyes narrowing a fraction.

We have to get the kids out of here.

"Look. We don't want any trouble-" You begin to say as calmly as possible.

Being diplomatic felt like a good idea right now or at least a good enough idea to buy you some time.

The woman moves faster than you thought possible. There's a terrible flash of green light and you feel an invisible force hit you in the center of your chest, propelling your body backwards through the cave. Dean shouts your name, but it sounds far away. Your stomach plummets with the few seconds of weightlessness, before your head hits the rock wall sending a jolt of pain through your body.

You lay there stunned, listening to the sound of the kids screaming, unable to move for a few seconds. Your mind is hazy, memories of the past slipping into these few moments.

The smell of the Impala, the soft scritch of a pencil against paper, the feeling of Dean's arm over your shoulders, the soothing motion of a paintbrush stroke-

You gasp as you come back to reality shaking your head once, twice to clear itself.

The kids are no longer in the crypt and you guess that the screaming you heard was them running for their lives, instead the woman floats in the center of the room, her hand clasped tightly around Dean's throat. She appears to be examining him, her eyes trace his features, unaffected by Dean struggle to get free.

A cold feeling of fear trickles down you spine, a raindrop in a thunderstorm finding the curves and plains of your back, melting snow against warm flesh.

"Put him down." Your voice is hard, the gun in your hand heavy as you train it on the woman.

She turns to look at you.

The rumble of thunder outside shifts to a higher pitch, a crisp sound, the clash of swords and the roar of a battle-cry merging into the howling of the wind.

"Now." You say.

Her mouth opens, and a language you don't know vibrates through the stale air, the sound of her voice is musical, a soft lullaby. The edge of her triumphant smirk curls back to reveal pearly white teeth, but she doesn't release Dean.

Your eyes flick to where Dean struggles in her grasp, his own emerald gaze focused on you. The fear you see in his eyes is not for himself, you know that. Years of hunting together, you knew that your best friend couldn't care less about himself, not if it meant you were hurt.

"Dean-" You whisper.

You didn't know what to do. You had a hunch that the rounds in your gun wouldn't do anything to her, and Dean and you had left the salt in the cemetery overhead, not to mention the iron knuckles you usually carried were still on the front seat of Baby where you'd left them.

And the lady was covered in iron so you doubted it would do anything to her.

"It doesn't have to be this way. We can talk this out. Just put him down. Please." You say it as calmly as you can, trying to think of something anything to do, but nothing comes.

The woman's smirk deepens. "No, more talking." Her voice slips into something harsher, speaking English through a thick accent.

The ground beneath her feet opens, the sharp sound of stone cracking while the crypt trembles around you, sending you stumbling to the right as the cave begins to tear itself apart.

Before you can do anything, the woman drops into the cavernous fissure dragging a struggling Dean with her.

"DEAN!" You shout, throwing your gun to the side and grabbing for his hand as he's pulled into the earth.

Dean gasps your name, his hand tight in yours, as the woman works her way down his body to hold tight on to his ankles. She hangs there in the space below, smile triumphant, as she playfully tugs on Dean's body as if it's a game.

"I'm not gonna let go okay?" You grunt, tightening your grip on his hand.

The weight of his body and the woman is too much, almost ripping your from it's socket, but you can't let him go. Not when Dean is the only person you have left. The ground beneath your body begins to crack, the stone flaking off to fall into the dark chasm below. You can't see the bottom, the cold hand of fear closing hard around your throat.

Dean says your name again. "It's gonna be okay."

"What?"

"I promise that it's going to be okay."

"I know it's going to be okay because I'm going to pull you up!" You struggle, tugging hard on his arm as you squirm to try and shuffle your body back on the ground, but it only makes more cracks spread and more earth fall into the chasm. "And then we're going to send her back to wherever the hell she came from."

His lips are pressed into a tight smile, eyes flashing with something melancholic you can't place. "Sweetheart. I promise that it's going to be okay. You just have to let go."

"No! I can do it!" You shout back, tears burning and falling from your eyes. "I-"

More of the bodies fall from the crypt into the chasm, disappearing into the darkness around Dean. The ground beneath your body shifts as more of it falls away. And you know at any moment you'll get dragged in too.

Dean looks down at the woman who hangs from his legs enjoying the scene in front of her, her dark eyes glinting as her green robes float out around her, then back up at you. The cold determined look in his eyes familiar.

"Dean please, I can't do this any of this- not without you!" You sob as you see the plan form in his mind. "So no to whatever you're thinking!"

"The only thing I'm thinking is how beautiful you are sweetheart." He flashes a signature smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "And that I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

He lets go, the final flash of his eyes the last thing you see before the darkness swallows him whole.

"No! DEAN!" You scream his name, prepared to dive in if that's what it takes, but the ground closes, shutting up the cavernous mouth that swallowed your friend, smoothing over so that there's nothing left but the cool stone floor of the cave.

Leaving you alone in the chill with the rumble of thunder and the crash of waves against stone, smoothing away the rough edges and taking them out to sea.

A/N: Please don't hate me for the cliffhanger 😅 Or for yah know, throwing Dean into a ravine... I promise that this one will have a happy ending. Eventually?

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think and the comments keep me going! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the next part please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies

@angrydragon90 @waynes-multiverse @kr804573 @maddie0101

[someprettyname]

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖑 & 𝕯𝖊𝖗𝖓

You mean the world to him, and he wouldn't hesitate in letting the world know. 

Characters : Isagi Yoichi

Contains : pro!isagi x childhood best friend!reader, no use of y/n if that helps, accidental/abrupt confession, pining except for you'll love it. No smut here but they're both aged up because that fits the story line. He basically kisses you in a full stadium, yes it's a hard launch fic. 

Moodboard : click here 

[ best viewed in dark mode ]

Silent anticipation buzzed through the loud cheers as you take your seat in the VIP stands, fingers fidgeting in your lap. You inhale deeply, eyes following him without a break as the whistle blows - marking the start of one of the most important match you know that he'll ever play. 

"Next match is the final." Your soft words echoed in the peacefully flowing air, fingers interlaced with his as you both walked back after his practice. The warm golden glow of the setting sun casting a shadow behind you.

"Yeah. It is." He replied softly, trying not to disturb the peace that your presence always bought him. 

You hum softly, eyes staring at a distance as you smile softly. "You'll win." You say as a matter of fact. So much that it takes even him aback. 

He chuckls softly, but of course he understands that feeling. He'd have said the same if he was in your place. "You have so much confidence in me huh?" His words dissipate in the air leaving behind an essence of gratitude, a smile playing at his lips as his thumb brush across your knuckles. 

You shake your head, finally turning to him. "I have a feeling. A premonition."

You tried telling yourself it was fine every time something went down in the match, but even so you couldn't really help the way your heart would sink. It wasn't rational at all, and that's annoying but heart wants what it wants. Isn't it? 

"Me?" You tilt your head, blinking as you look away. "I've been in love for years."

His heart skipped not one but a few beats. A few too many. A weird sense of relief but disappointment taking over him. "Years?" he repeated quietly, trying to process the information, wondering who it was you had been pining for all this time.

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." You justify, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to take apart time when he's a part of something as time taking as blue lock. Not that you mind. You can wait for him your whole life, what's a few years anyways? It's almost selfish in a way. Scary even, because what if he doesn't feel the same? He's the one for you, but are you the one for him? 

Jealousy bubbled up in his chest as his fingers squeezed your skin. It was something he did that he didn't even realise, but you did. Of course you did. You always did. 

He tried to push those feelings aside and feigned indifference, even though his heart was racing. "I see...and who's the lucky guy?"

"I can't tell you now." Your calm voice echoes in his anxious curiosity, piercing a hot burning hopelessness through it. 

His skin crawls in frustration. "There's no way he's good enough for her." He thinks silently but doesn't dare utter a word about it.

"Why not? Afraid i'll judge him or something?"

"No. I know you won't." You say easily, with lot of trust and self belief, "It's just not the right time."

Your unwavering trust in him makes his heart squeeze in his chest, eyes scanning your expression for any signs of deception, but you'd always been a honest person, hadn't you? 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But you'll tell me one day, right?"

You hum and smile softly, "Of course." Voice settling on oblivious ears. 

Who will tell him it's him that you've been in love with? 

He squeezed your hand lightly, a small comfort gesture. Was he trying to comfort himself or you, he didn't know. He tried to push down the feeling of jealousy that still lingered in his chest and feigned a smile back at you. 

"I'll hold you to that."

The crowd roars and the final whistle blows as the ball rolls down the net and within few seconds he had Hiori and others tackling him down. 

He had won. 

They had won. 

Japan had won the WORLD CUP. 

Yet. Yet all he could think of was you. Your words ringing in his ears, and this was not the first time that happened this evening. 

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." 

He parts from his teammates, eyes scanning intently through the crowd at the VIP stands, craving to be met with yours. Not only was he a pro player now but also a world champion.

"...successful and stable enough in our careers..."  

The wait was over. You already had a high paying job and your career was blooming, now he had caught up too. If you were to confess, this would be the moment right? 

No. 

Scratch that. He has had enough of that. 

The moment you're in front of him HE will lay out his heart clear and bare for you to take care of. And if you happen to step on it he'd swallow that pill with a smile too, it's better than this untold distance between you both anyways. 

"Yoichi?" 

"Yeah?" Your eyes pierce through him when he looks at you, as if you were calculating every of his reaction. Not that he minds, you were like this some times. 

"Am I being stupid?"

He frowns, "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that? What happened?"

You hum looking away, "You know....he doesn't know someone's been in love with him for YEARS now. But I'm here, hoping he won't go find any other girl..." You look down, a hint of hurt in your expression as you sigh, "...but how is he ever supposed to know? Am I stupid for hoping so much?"

He felt a pang in his chest as he saw the hurt expression on your face. One thing he just can't tolerate is seeing you sad or hurt. It's as if his system just has a resistance to it. His hand find it's place on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, "No, you're not stupid." He said firmly. And even if it is stupid - damn it, he wants someone to love him like that. Such deep faith in destinies. It makes him look at the flowers of trust you have made to bloom in your heart and mind with awe. Love is the most beautiful yet the most delicate flower isn't it? 

You are such a passionate lover, it's beautiful but oh does it hurt so much to think it might not be him that your heart aches for. 

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn to him almost immediately, his words catching your attention. No. You don't trust him with this one. He's just saying that to make you better isn't he? 

"Why not?"

He looked back at you, his gaze intense and sincere. "Because it takes courage to keep silent while carrying feelings this significant." He paused, trying to find the right words to express himself. Trying his best to not let the fear of the man you love so dearly not being him slip into his words. "You've been quietly waiting. Patiently hoping. That's not stupid. It's actually quite brave." He'd know afterall. He'd know better than anyone else. 

He's been doing the same thing afterall. 

Your expression softens, "Am I doing the right thing?"

Was he? 

He squeezes your shoulders again, "Sometimes, doing the right thing isn't always easy. Sometimes it requires patience. And belief." he paused again, his voice softening slightly. 

"Sometimes it requires just... faith." He breathes in, eyes closed as he takes in the fragrance of your trust flowers, imagining himself to be standing in the garden of your love. It's so beautiful that it almost makes him forget his fear, just like when you're in love. When you're in love all you care about is how your heart beats slightly more happily at the sight of them. When you're in love you don't care about being rejected and forgotten. When you're in love, all your focus goes into being in love. Maybe he's in love with the way you love, "Faith that your feelings will be returned one day."

You smile and look away, almost longingly "I've been loving him for so long. I think I'd be shattered if it's NOT reciprocated." You chuckle bitterly, your nightmares visibly slipping in your words. You don't know how he's so firm in his words... but they're somehow consoling. As if he's been through the same...but you were quick to push that doubt aside. 

"That's the risk we take when we love someone, isn't it? We open ourselves up to the possibility of heartbreak." he paused for a moment, his grip on your shoulder unconsciously tightening. "But... don't you think it's worth the risk?" 

You close yourself to pain, you close yourself to joy afterall. You were his joy and you were his pain. A pain he'd happily sink himself in. 

His mind reels back to your smile, the shine in your eyes, the way your voice sounds, the way your encouraging words echo in his head in the silence and loneliness of the night sometimes, helping him walk down to embrace of sleep, the way you hold him, the way you trust him, the way you console him...it's all so worth it. More than worth it, and he doesn't doubt that atleast. 

And you don't do either judging by the way you answer in a beat, "Oh. He's worth EVERYTHING."

He almost smiles but jealously was quick to spread it's thorns and constrict his heart. He was jealous that HE might not be the one you loved so deeply. He smiled, trying to hide the hint of envy in his eyes. "Looks like you've really fallen hard for this guy."

"Could be you." You glance at him, eyes gleaming playfully, a grin playing at your lips. Fuck. The words were out before you could control them. Shit. Why did you do that? To see his reaction? To keep the scope open, to let him know it could be him? Well, you did see doubt in his eyes just now but that's stupid. Who else would be the one for you? He had always been your type.

Always. 

Your words strike through his chest, spreading like cold ice through his whole body, mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He blinked a few times, trying to process what you had just said as his heart danced in his chest at the hope budding through his skin and bones like flowers. 

It could be him. 

He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. He had to remain composed and nonchalant, like he had been doing the whole conversation. He gave a light shrug, trying to hide the mixture of hope and fear in his eyes as he spoke. 

"Yeah, could be."

He frowns, scanning the crowd again. He knew you were here, you wished all the boys well before the match. Then why can't he find you? He looks down at his hand, warmth enveloping his skin at the memory of your touch, your voice echoing in his ears again. 

"Don't worry. Champions always win." He sighs, running the same hand through his hairs. You looked so assured, so sure just 2 hours ago, then where were you when he wanted to celebrate his biggest success with you? To have you in his arms? You weren't about to become his shadow now that he's in the face of glory after you've been his shield, standing firm in a protective stance through all his downs for so long were you? But before he could drown any further in the sea of questions and helpless uncertainty he feels a tap on his shoulder and the sight that adorns his eyes when he turns around makes his breathe hitch. 

You stood there panting, eyes shining the brightest he had even seen, face lit up with emotions making you look arguably the most gorgeous you'd ever been. Or maybe because he thinks so due to the bright glint of pride in your eyes. No. But that's not the only emotions dancing over your features right now. Determination, hope, anticipation, pride and happiness. He can see all of that. Joy, euphoria, ecstasy. 

The moment he turns to you, you instantly throw your arms around him, taking him in a strong, soul crushing hug. The force and speed even taking him aback, causing him to stumble backwards, but he recovers quick enough. 

You didn't care that he was all sweaty. You just were so SO happy. It's debatable, you were probably happier than him. You could technically feel happy hormones gushing through your veins. You didn't care if the cameras were on you both. All you cared about was that he had won.

"Have you ever been in love?" 

"Uh well..." Your abrupt question makes his heart skip a beat. He hadn't expected you to ask him that all of a sudden, but then again, you always had a way of surprising him. Didn't you? 

"Yeah. I have been."

You smile, a somber twinkle in your eyes, "What does it feel like?"

Your question was enough to hit him with a wave of strong emotions. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "It's... intense. Like, really intense. Your heart starts racing anytime you're around that person but it's somehow very comforting. Your mind always drifts off to them, no matter what you're doing." He paused, trying to articulate his feelings. "And you just... feel this overwhelming need to be close to that person. All the time. Because...it feels...warm. And they just make you happy."

"Right?" Your smile tilts with your head, "Their presence is just so comforting."

He couldn't help but agree. your words hit uncomfortably close to home. "Yeah...Their presence. It just... feels like home." He could feel longingness gush through his veins as he thinks back to everytime his eyes would automatically search for you in a room full of people. Your eyes a glowing warmth and your smile a sense of security. As if everything would be fine if you were happy and smiling. Maybe the thing he loved the most about you was how absolutely breathtaking you looked everytime your smile reached your eyes, sparking them up with a twinkle. 

"You're smiling." You muse playfully, the same smiling he was thinking about playing at your lips when he looks up at you, slightly taken aback. "Seems like you've fallen pretty hard too huh?" 

For some reason, the fact that you might not be the one he loves wasn't as bothering. You were just happy that he was as deeply loving and caring as you thought he'd be. 

"Still in love?"

"Yeah... I still am." He paused, looking down for a moment. Silently cursing how his heart would become the quick beats to the melody of your voice everytime you spoke. Your words have had this effect on him for so long he has stopped questioning it at this point. 

He wanted to say more, but he was afraid.

Afraid of revealing too much and making a fool of himself. Bringing down the castle of patience you'd both built together. Maybe he WANTED to. He wanted to destroy everything distancing you from him even if it was a beautifully comfortable castle, but he forces a reminder on himself. 

"Just a few more days." He thinks silently, promising himself to lay down his whole world at your feet when he wins that final match for you. 

He took a deep breath and continued in a low, almost whispered tone. 

"In fact... I think I'm even more in love than I was before."

"You did it." You squeeze him tighter as his his hands slide along your waist, his face buried in your hair and mind focused on holding your close and savouring the feeling of your body against his as your smell invades his senses. Yes. This is perfect. "YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU DID- FUUUCKKK. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, YO. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

And the world stops. 

He could feel the adrenaline in his blood turn ice cold at that. You....what? 

He pulled back slightly, looking down at you with an expression of awe and disbelief. "Did you just say... that you love me?"

You expressions falter slightly, your heart still beating out of your chest. You were in a frenzy - body high on emotions and adrenaline. You could barely think straight, any thoughts of your secret not being reciprocated thrown out of the window. But now that you see surprise etched on his expressions, doubts flood your system again. What if he doesn't...oh no.

"Is it a bad time?"

And before you could process what was happening you felt his lips crash on yours. Your eyes widen and your internal uproar at his touch was instantly mirrored by the crowd. But it barely took a second for the screams and cheers to die away as you found yourself settling into the kiss like the last piece of puzzle, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss. 

Shivers run up both your spines and sparks fly the moment your lips touch, charging up the air around as he holds you tighter, kissing you with a fierce need. How long had he waited for this? His fingers would probably fail him if he were to count but oh, were you the most gorgeous being he had EVER laid his eyes on. And now you were his. 

His lips move against yours with a desperate need to convey and pour out every emotion his heart couldn't hold, because damn well it'd most definitely burst open if he tried keeping all these feelings inside. This is beyond perfect. 

This is well beyond perfect. 

Your head was swirling. You couldn't believe this was happening. Consequences be fucked. You are about to enjoy this to your whole. Every coherent thought, every worry leaves as you kiss him back equally passionately. He wasn't any better, mind clouded with feeling of your lips against his and you in his arms. His hands come up to cradle the back of your head as yours slide to his chest and nape and he deepened the kiss. 

He didn't want it to end, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. But call it the protective instincts, his rational part kicks in reminding him of the cameras that must be on the two of you. He gives you one last slow kiss and you take the hint, pulling away. 

He pants, resting his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You love him. He loves you. You are his, he is yours. And there's nothing more he'd want. Nothing more. He'll die a happy man if he has you in his arms. That's just how much he'd yearned for you to be officially his. And now you were. He won 2 of the most important things he could have tonight. And right now he, without a doubt, was the HAPPIEST man on earth right now. 

You gasp for breathe, eyes still closed as you try and process everything. The way he holds you. The way he touches you. The fact that he was talking about you when he said he was in love. The whole world was watching you both. Fuck. AND he had won the World Cup. So much to process. So much. You almost felt dizzy, his protective embrace around you being the only thing which kept you grounded for now. 

Speechless. You were speechless. You didn't know what to say. There was so much to say yet nothing good enough. So you keep your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"I love you, yoichi."

He smiles softly, hands reaching up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin.

"I love you too. so much it hurts."

a/n : Hello lovely peoples. This is the first time I ever spent so much energy and effort in formatting a fic and making it look pretty. Am I down bad for him or am I down bad for him? Haters say I'm downbad for him, don't listen to them. I'm COMPLETELY normal about him. Yep.

I know hard launch is usually not the most realistic scenario with professional players, but a girl is allowed to dream 😔🎀

And if you see me screaming in the reblogs of my own fic....no you don't. <3

Tagging @zendersenders @sharkissm @thebestsetter @plsmarrymehioriyo because GASP can you believe it? I actually wrote i screamed about. Crazy.

[ dividers from cafekitsune ]

[foreignjaykay]

company (a jungkook fic)

part two - "better late than never, right?"

company - a jungkook fic

can we keep each other company?

their workplace was chaos, but jungkook made it fun. their camaraderie was effortless—until he decided to leave. no big deal. people quit all the time. so why does it feel like everything is about to change?

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: r18+ (angst, fluff) minors do not interact!

chapter warnings/misc: workplace!au, coworkers!au, event planner!jk, event planner!oc, jk is not famous, angst, fluff, sad, crack, event planner!mingyu, bts in event planning company, unserious friend group, they are so silly and unserious, , ANGST, IDIOTS both of them, OBLIVIOUSNESS LMAO, yeah you might feel like screaming at the screen i know, i know

notes: hello everyone!!! sorry for the delay. here you go with part 2, i really like this one! things will only get more interesting as we progress further -evil laugh- no but seriously this whole fic is just like justin bieber's believe album. heard that while writing this part lol. we also meet a lot of new characters who are so dear to me! anywho, hope you enjoy this one <3

also here is company!jk’s visual vibe

moodboard • playlist • series masterlist

The moment you finished the texts that morning, you knew the office was going to be a whirlwind of chaos. And you were right.

As soon as you punched into the system, and opened the door, you could already hear laughter coming from the cafeteria.

Oh brother!

The 'Survivors' gang was already huddled around a table, with Jungkook right in the center, laughter radiating from him like sunlight. His eyes lit up the second they met yours, and before you could even think about slipping away, Mingyu—Gyu, as you fondly called him—beckoned you over.

“_______! Get over here!” he grinned.

You smiled lightly, already dreading what was going to happen however you nodded your head, and made your way to them anyway.

As you join them, a familiar warmth settles over you. Around the table were all the familiar faces who had become your second family: Mingyu and Shane from CS team just like Jungkook and you, Yuna, Dae, So-hee, Jimin, and Taehyung from design, Namjoon and Jin from production, Hobi and Yoongi from accounts, and Iseul from the same team. Each one of them held a special place in your heart, but after Jungkook, it was Mingyu and Yuna you were closest to.

The conversation buzzed with excitement, actually no, shock, as everyone bombarded Jungkook with questions about his new job, his plans, and his time left at the office. 

“No cause what the fuck were you saying this morning?” Yuna asked, remembering the conversation from earlier this morning. 

“Are you really resigning, JK?” Hobi asked. Just like you, they all couldn't believe it. 

Jungkook nodded with a wistful smile, the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly, but his eyes conveyed a hint of sadness, suggesting a mix of melancholy and acceptance.

So,” So-hee started, leaning back in her chair. “You wanna explain?”

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah. It’s happening.”

“Where are you even going?” Namjoon asked, arms crossed. “You never said anything about leaving.”

Jungkook exhaled, his fingers tapping against the table. “I got an offer to work on live concerts. Big ones. A-list musicians, full production scale, global tours. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

Your chest tightened. You already knew this, but hearing him say it out loud made it real.

“You and _____ always talked about this,” Jimin murmured. You glanced at Jungkook as soon as you heard that and when you looked at him, you saw his eyes flickering to yours. An emotion you couldn’t describe passing briefly through his features.

“Yeah,” he said, softer now. “We did.” 

You noticed both Yuna and Mingyu glancing at you, and you knew exactly why. Yuna specifically was going to ask you about this later, and you mentally braced yourself for the impending interrogation.

“So you’re leaving because you finally got your dream job,” Yoongil summarized.

Jungkook nodded. “I didn’t want to do these luxury brand launches forever. The dinners, the red carpets… it’s cool, but it’s not my thing. Concerts? That’s different.”

“Shit, man.” Taehyung whistled. “I mean, I’m happy for you, but this sucks.”

“Who’s gonna get roasted in the GC now?” Shane joked, nudging Jungkook.

Jungkook laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll still be in the GC. I’ll be haunting you all from afar.”

Shane, Mingyu and you already knew. God, you still couldn't believe this news.

He was leaving.

You know it wasn’t supposed to be this dramatic but why did it feel so heavy?

You broke from your thoughts when your phone buzzed with calls and dozens of messages. 

“Guys, I gotta go,” you interrupted when you saw Jungkook animatedly describe his upcoming journey, holding up your phone. “Already getting calls.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to your phone and then back to you. “Oh, by the way,” he said casually, but his voice held that familiar teasing lilt, “Natasha asked me to shadow you for the Johnnie Walker Blue Label dinner tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the sudden pang in your chest.

“Maybe this could be our last adventure?” he said looking at you, voice dipping a little. “Gotta make the most of my final days, right?” He added. 

You could feel the rest of their eyes on you.

Your heart clenched when he said that, but sarcasm was your armor. “Jungkook, you leave in a month. We still have Cartier coming up.”

He chuckled, the sound effortlessly charming. “Oh yeah.”

And for a second—just a fraction of a second—you hesitated, watching him.

And he watched you back.

But the moment passed, and you rolled your eyes. “Drama queen.”

His laughter, carefree yet tinged with something unspoken, echoed through the cafeteria. Around you, the rest of the group exchanged glances, picking up on the subtle awkwardness in the air. It was brief, fleeting, but undeniable.

And then you were gone, walking away with your phone glued to your ear, pretending everything was perfectly fine.

The cafeteria slowly emptied after the morning chaos. You had already left, phone pressed to her ear as she dove headfirst into calls for the Johnnie Walker event. One by one, the rest of the ‘Survivors’ gang filtered out, leaving only Jungkook and Namjoon seated at the corner table.

Jungkook sat silently, fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup, eyes lost in thought.

“Thinking hard for someone who’s got a dream job lined up,” Namjoon teased gently, breaking the silence.

Jungkook blinked, pulled from his daze. “Huh? Oh... yeah. Just... a lot on my mind.”

Namjoon chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Right. ‘A lot.’ Or maybe... someone?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, then softened as he followed Namjoon’s gaze. Across the glass partition, you paced back and forth, phone glued to your ear, animatedly sorting out last-minute details.

You have always been like this. Dismissive. Untouchable. And yet, here Jungkook was, wishing you’d just–

Namjoon’s question broke Jungkook’s train of thought when he asked, “You gonna miss her?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, the question catching him off guard. He opened his mouth, then closed it, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Yeah... of course. She’s my best friend here. And... well... my saviour.”

He chuckled softly, pulling out his phone and flashing the contact name — ‘Saviour.’

Namjoon observed him for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing smile. He didn’t say much, but the silence between them felt weighty, charged with unspoken understanding.

Jungkook glanced at him, confused. “What?”

Namjoon shook his head with a small laugh. “Nothing, man.”

Jungkook, oblivious, ran a hand through his hair and stood up. “I should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replied, eyes still watching you through the glass. “You should.”

As Jungkook walked away, Namjoon sat back, sipping his coffee, a quiet smirk playing on his lips.

You sat alone in the bustling cafeteria, the clatter of trays and distant murmurs barely registering in your mind. December’s madness gripped the office, with Natasha’s vacation leaving the team drowning in work. Even Jake Peralta’s comedic chaos on your phone screen couldn’t compete with the storm of thoughts in your head. And that show single handedly was there for you after your 5473829018393th break up with San.

Oh San.

You didn't like thinking about him. At all.

You were glad you were not in that mess of a relationship anymore. So toxic. The constant lying, manipulation and chea-

Oh no. You are not thinking about that.

It had been 2 years since you were really with someone. Enough time to heal, right?  Funny to think that after  you broke up with San, you  got the job here and met Jungkook and the rest of the gang. Work had also consumed you then and still does. It helped distract you from the pain you felt then.

You were glad you did.

Met them, you mean.

Your fingers mindlessly pushed your food around as you stared at nothing in particular. Jungkook’s words from the morning replayed like a broken record in your head. The brightness in his eyes, the laughter, the ache that tugged at your heartstrings for reasons you couldn’t pinpoint.

It’s just a job. People leave all the time. Shane, Mingyu, Yuna, and the rest of them will still be here. Nothing’s changing. 

The weight in your chest whispered otherwise.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the spiral.

yuna (work) [2:05 pm]: babe where are you?

you [2:05 pm]: in the cafeteria. whats up?

yuna (work) [2:06 pm]: we need to talk!

You sighed. Here we go. 

you [2:06 pm]: about?

yuna (work) [2:07 pm]: meet me at conference room #2 once you are done with lunch?

you [2:07 pm]: sure

yuna (work) [2:07 pm]: see ya!

You were already bracing yourself.

After lunch, you found herself pacing outside the conference room before finally pushing the door open.

Yuna sat cross-legged on the table, her usual grin replaced with a softer, more curious expression. “Hey, you okay?”

You raised a brow. “Why is everyone suddenly asking me that?”

“Because we care,” Yuna replied simply. “And... because you seem off. Jungkook’s leaving is hitting you harder than you’re letting on.”

You scoffed lightly, though your posture stiffened. “It’s not that deep, Yuna. He’s a friend. People leave all the time. Shane, Mingyu, you... you’re all still here.”

You could feel Yuna study you for a moment. “So, you're fine?”

“Completely fine,” You said, and nodded.

Were you really trying to convince her or yourself?

“Right,” Yuna responded, her tone laced with an almost imperceptible amusement. “It’s just funny how ‘fine’ people don’t avoid eye contact every time someone brings up Jungkook.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m just... busy, okay? There’s so much going on, and—”

“And?”

You bit your lip, deflecting. “Look, I’ll miss him, sure. But I’m not losing him. He’s a text away. We’ll still talk,”

“Of course,” Yuna nodded, standing up and smoothing her shirt. “If you say so.”

You narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Yuna smiled slightly, walking to the door. She paused just before leaving, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “You’re so oblivious.”

“To what?” You asked confused.

“Exactly,” And with that Yuna is gone.

Your mouth opened to respond, but she was already gone. You stood there, confused and restless. Oblivious to what?

The office hummed with the quiet rhythm of the evening shift. The December chill seeped through the windows, blending with the glow of computer screens and the occasional click of keyboards. You returned to her desk after your client meeting, only to find Shane and Mingyu locked in a heated argument.

“Dude, I’m telling you, Die Hard is totally a Christmas movie!” Shane insisted, arms flailing dramatically.

Mingyu scoffed. “Just because it’s set during Christmas doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.”

“Next, you’ll tell me Harry Potter is a Halloween movie because there’s a troll in the dungeon,” You quipped, trying to suppress a smirk.

“Okay, but seriously,” Shane interjected, “___, back me up here. Christmas is all about family, redemption, and explosions—Die Hard fits!”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “You just like explosions.”

Their playful banter made you smile, but it didn’t fully erase the weight you felt inside. Your eyes drifted across the room, where Jungkook sat on the worn leather sofa, focused intensely on his laptop. The crease between his brows, the way his fingers moved with precision—there was something magnetic about him in moments like this.

Why does he make this so hard?

An hour slipped by. Mingyu and Shane finally gathered their things.

“Don’t stay too late, ______,” Mingyu called out. “And JK, take a break from being a workaholic, would you?”

Shane and you chuckled.

“Later losers,” Shane joked, shooting finger guns at Jungkook and you. You rolled your eyes while Jungkook chuckled and gave him a mock salute.

The door clicked shut, and the office felt quieter than ever. Jungkook stretched, shutting his laptop and walking towards your desk.

“Long day, huh?” he asked softly.

You nodded, your gaze drifting to his laptop. Curiosity morphed into something heavier.

“Wait... is that your handover sheet?” Your voice cracked slightly.

Jungkook chuckled, though his eyes reflected something bittersweet. “Yeah. Better to start now than rush later.”

“Look at you being all prepared huh?” You said as a joke.

“Isn’t it too soon?” you added, forcing a laugh that barely hid the lump in your throat.

“Maybe,” he replied. “But... better late than never, right?” His smile was soft, almost apologetic.

You nodded and felt a weight settle in your chest.

“You okay?” he asked you gently.

Were you seriously this obvious? Well since childhood, your emotions always showed on your face. You just can’t control it.

These days it feels like a flaw, more than usual.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just... you know, work. Event tomorrow and all,”

Jungkook didn’t seem to buy it, but nodded anyway. 

“Heading out? I can drop you home.” He asked as you saw him pack his bag and wait for your answer.

“No, I’ve got stuff to finish,” you said quickly.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he offered.

“No, really,” you insisted, eyes glued to your screen. “Go home, Jungkook.”

He hesitated. “If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure.” You said and gave him a smile. It wasn't sincere and he knew that. He didn't want to push it.

Things between the two of you have been a little awkward anyway. As he left, the emptiness felt overwhelming. Better late than never... you repeated in your mind, but it didn’t feel right at all.

The office was eerily quiet now, with only the hum of the air conditioner and the faint clicking of your keyboard filling the space. You leaned back in her chair, stretching, when your  gaze fell upon the corkboard in front of your desk.

Pinned right in the center was a Laneige-branded polaroid, its white sleeve bordered with the brand’s iconic blue. In the photo, you were  mid-laugh, eyes crinkling with joy, while Jungkook stood beside you, grinning mischievously as he held up bunny ears behind your head.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and before you knew it, you were  pulled into the memory.

The Laneige event was supposed to be smooth sailing, until it wasn’t.  Your eyes darted between your laptop and the large screen where the AV was supposed to play the brand’s latest product ad. Except, instead of the sleek, high-definition video, there was static. Then a black screen.

“Oh no, no, no,” you muttered, frantically searching your files. The sound team huddled around you, whispering about corrupted files and missing backups.

“I’m screwed,” you whispered under your breath, panic tightening your chest.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jungkook’s voice cut through the chaos. He crouched beside you, brows knitted with concern.

“The AV—it's all wrong. Somehow the final version is not playing even though we did the tech check this morning. It’s not working, and the event starts in fifteen minutes,” you rambled, barely breathing.

“Okay, hey, breathe,” he said softly. “We’ve got this.”

He turned to the sound team. “Check the codec settings and reload the player. Sometimes it freezes with large files. Do we have the original file on a backup drive?”

One of the techs nodded, scrambling to connect it.

“____, check if the client sent any last-minute updates.”

You nodded, fingers trembling as she searched. “Here! The client sent a backup this morning.”

“Perfect. Upload it to my drive,” Jungkook said, opening his laptop. Within moments, he transferred the file, reloaded the player, and the screen flickered back to life with the flawless Laneige ad.

You exhaled deeply, your heart still pounding. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Teamwork, remember?” he grinned.

After the event wrapped up successfully, the two of you found yourselves at the instant photobooth Laneige had set up for guests. Jungkook pulled you in, making funny faces while youburst out laughing.

“Smile!” he said just as the camera clicked.

The polaroid printed out, and before they could take another, Mingyu, Shane, Yuna, Namjoon and Jin jumped in, cramming into the frame, laughing uncontrollably.

Back in the present, your smile was bittersweet. You traced the edge of the polaroid with your finger, the weight of the impending goodbye settling heavily on your chest.

“Drama queen,” you whispered softly, echoing your teasing words to Jungkook earlier. But deep down, you knew—this goodbye wasn’t going to be easy.

Maybe he was the saviour all along.

© foreignjaykay

part 3

[mandaloriankait]

The Lady of the Swamp

A/N: This fic is for @gothcsz and @almostempty 's EAT!2025 writing challenge. I don't think either of you understand just how much fun I had writing this. I've never written anything like this before, and I can't wait to write my second one(I know I'm greedy af). This is Frankie Morales x Swamp Monster, and the reader was written as a bipoc!woman, along with being a curvy reader. Of course everyone is welcome to read. Hope you all enjoy!! Oh and the moodboard isn't mine, it was given with the prompt i received 💕

Warnings: unprotected pinv, oral(f!receiving), violence/horror aspects

Frankie pulls up to the boat dock, sighing as he puts his truck in park. Another day, another five boat tours, he thinks as he locks the vehicle. He wanders to the entrance of the touring building, taking his time even though he can see the small crowd of people waiting for him. He sighs before pasting a customer service smile onto his face and quickening his stride. “Good morning, folks! We'll get started in just a few minutes.”, he called as he jogged into the building. Frankie pulled the keys to the boat off the hook and went out the back door to the dock. A trail of people were following him as soon as he opened the back gate, and he suppressed an eyeroll when he saw some of his regulars. 

Yes, Frankie had regulars. The same few people would come back week after week to go on one of the tours and hear his stories. He would have thought that once would be enough, but clearly, he was wrong. He motioned for the first group to come forward, staring out into the murky waters as they got settled on the covered boat. Something caught his eye briefly, and his head snapped to the left, but he didn't see anything besides a few ripples in the water. One of his regulars tapped him on the shoulder, clearly impatient to get going. Frankie turned and clapped his hands once. “Alright, let's get going! I'm Frankie Morales, and I'll be your tour guide today. I see some familiar faces here, so y'all will have to bear with me as I go over a few things.”, he said, raising his voice to be heard over the murmurs in the group. 

Frankie went over the rules of the tour: keep all limbs inside the boat at all times and no standing up while the boat is in motion. “I don't want to have to fish anyone out of the swamp today.”, he finished, a few people giggling at the thought of it. Finally, he sat down and turned the boat on; it roared to life almost instantly. Again, something caught his eye in front of him, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary as he scrutinized the water. Shrugging lightly, he pulled the boat away from the dock, starting up his spiel about the wildlife in the swamp. He came to a stop about fifteen minutes later, turning and watching the group of small children as they watched the alligators swimming in the muck. Frankie smiled lightly as he watched them squeal in delight as their parents took photos, trying to get both their children and the animals in the same shot. This was the part of the job that he loved, watching the kids be absolutely enthralled by wild animals. 

Finally, he was able to move on deeper into the swamp, where he started up on the ghost stories. This was the highlight of the trip for a lot of people, as he always had different stories to tell, with the exception of one that he always told. The same story he told of you, day after day; the story of how you were murdered, your body dumped here in the swamp to be forgotten. “Now, this next one some of you may have heard already, so keep the heckling to a minimum.”, Frankie said, turning the boat off and swiveling around in his seat to face the group. The boat drifted in the murky waters as the slow, gentle current moved. He started the story, and some of the regulars did groan, but he waved a hand at them. His eyes were on the kids that were watching him, attention completely caught by how he weaved the tale. 

“Her family reported her missing the day after she was murdered; of course, they didn't know that yet. Authorities finally found a shoe and some DNA evidence that suggested she had been dumped out here and left for the animals to eat.They dragged the swamp for days, but never found a body. No one was ever charged for it either; no body, no crime, right?”, he chuckled, looking out over the water. “People swear that they can see her spirit out in the swamp right about this time of day, and sometimes at night too. That when the light catches just right, they see the spirit of a beautiful woman, drifting over the murky waters.” He paused for a moment before shrugging and clapping his hands, startling several of the people on board the boat. “So I've heard anyway, I've never seen her myself, so who's to say?”

Frankie watched as several people shuddered at the story, even some of his regulars. He continued on, waxing more poetic nonsense he didn't believe about the swamp as he continued to drive the boat through it. Stopping for some final photos of the wildlife, he looked out over the water, watching as the sun slowly rose higher in the sky. Then, he heard a splash close to the boat. He ignored it to start with, but then something hit the boat just enough that it started to rock in the gentle water. Frankie turned in his seat, looking over the edge of the boat. He reached back and grabbed an oar from behind his chair, lowering it into the water, searching for what could have hit the boat. As he leaned down, peering at the water, he caught a glimpse of you. Briefly, but just enough to know that something was in the swamp with them. 

It all happened so fast. One minute Frankie was in the boat, staring into the eyes of what he thought was a large gator, and the next minute you hit the boat again, throwing him off balance and into the water with you. He surfaced, trying not to breathe in the algae and other muck in the water as he turned, trying to see what was in the water with him. You swam under him, amber eyes glinting with satisfaction as you saw that this was indeed the man you were looking for. The one who told your story day after day but didn't believe. Well, you would make him believe. You reached out, a clawed hand grasping at his calf and pulling him under the surface. The onlookers still in the boat gasped in horror as Frankie went under. The dread mounted as he didn't resurface. Finally, after a few minutes, his hat popped up, several feet away from the boat. The group stared out into the water as several of the children started to cry from the shock of it all. Finally, one of the regulars dug a satellite phone out from under Frankie's seat, radioing in what had happened and that someone needed to be sent out to drag the swamp. 

Frankie gasped, his lungs finally filling with air. He turned on his side and spit water out of his mouth before looking around him. He was in some sort of cave system, with an entrance not far from where he was laying. If he was quick enough and quiet enough, he could probably get out without being noticed. He scrambled up onto his feet, groaning softly as his calf burned with the effort. He looked down, seeing dark, bloody scratches in his skin. Then, he heard you speak from deep within the cave, your sultry voice weaving into his ears.

“Leaving so soon?”, you asked; he turned and stared into the darkness, finding your amber eyes staring back at him, unblinking. Frankie swallowed, limping backward a bit as your eyes blinked slowly in the dark before you rose to your full height, coming out of the damp dark of the back of the cave. You stepped into a beam of light from above and his eyes widened as he took in your form. Your emerald scales around your face shone against your dark skin as you walked through the light beams. The ones curving down your body slowly changed from the bright emerald to a darker, more olive green until they reached your mud covered feet. Dried mud was in your dark curls, but it didn't weigh it down; if anything, it made it more textured. Your entire form was bare to him, and his eyes traced the swell of your voluptuous breasts down to your thick thighs and the patch of coarse hair between your legs. You seemed to be proud of the effect your form had on him, stalking ever closer, baring your teeth as your eyes flashed at him.

So entranced by you, Frankie stumbled over a loose rock and fell into the mud. Despite his obvious fear, he couldn't help but be lured in by your beauty. Frankie caught himself tracing the line of your scales down your body with his eyes. You let out a manic giggle and his eyes snapped back up to your face, now mere inches from his own. “Like what you see?”, you asked, leaning down into his space. He gulped before responding with a question of his own. “What do you want with me?” “I wanted you to see that I was real. That the story you tell every day on your little boat tours is very much alive and real.”, you responded with a hiss. Puzzled, he looked you up and down again before he remembered the last story he had told before you showed up. Frankie said your name softly, staring up at you with something akin to reverence. 

Your eyes widened before you turned away from him; you hadn't heard your name in years, always referred to as the woman who drowned, the woman who died and was left in the muck. You took a deep breath before turning back to him. Frankie was on his feet by then, but he had stopped trying to leave. Instead, he stepped closer, as if trying to see more of you. Your clawed hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and hauling him closer to you. You could see the tinge of fear in his eyes, but there was something else there too: sadness, curiosity, barely concealed lust. He looked down at you slightly, eyes roaming your face; he was taller than you'd expected, but not by too much. You turned away from him again, almost regretting your plan; you hadn't expected him to figure it out so soon, but he was smarter than you realized. “Why me?”, he asked softly, “Why not any of the other idiots that tell your story?” You growled low in your throat, snapping back to face him. “No one else gets to travel my waters without being touched, now do they?” Frankie's face twisted in confusion again; “Your waters?”, he asked. “The swamp made me who I am. It kept me alive all this time after I was supposed to be dead.”, you murmured, looking down at the water lapping at your feet. “I took an interest in you because you're different than the others. Because you don't believe. So I have to make you believe.” 

Your grip on his wrist tightened as you turned, pulling him further into the cave with you. Frankie came along willingly, if only not to anger you further than he already seemed to have done. You stopped suddenly, turning and pushing him back down into the mud before straddling him. Your lips curled back into a smile, showing off your sharp teeth before you kissed him roughly. His hands went up, not knowing what to do with them; after a brief moment, he surrendered to your kiss, matching the pace you set with ease. Your tongue pressed to the seam of his lips and he granted you access almost immediately, groaning into your mouth as your tongue slid against his. You broke the kiss before sliding your mouth down his jawline and finally to his throat, nipping at the soft skin there, drawing blood that you licked away a moment later. Frankie let out a strangled moan, his hands coming to rest on your waist as you continued to suck bruises onto his neck. Finally, you pulled back, satisfied with your handiwork. He stared up at you, breathing heavily as his hands tightened and loosened on your waist. His pupils were blown, black almost covering his pretty brown irises. 

You roughly pulled his shirt up, one clawed hand drawing blood as you did so. Frankie let you, leaning up a little to let you take his shirt all the way off. You ran one finger down his chest and torso, catching at the waistband of his cargo shorts. With one sharp twist, you cut through the belt and the waistband of his shorts all at once. He gulped, watching as you pulled his shorts and underwear down until he was completely bare under you. His cock was hard, flushed red at the tip and twitching. You grinned again, teeth flashing as you lowered your cunt down against him, gliding up and down smoothly. Frankie moaned, bucking his hips against you; you quickly caught them, digging your claws into his skin hard enough to draw blood. “Stop moving.”, you growled, leaning down to get in his face. He swallowed hard, then nodded. You continued to grind down against him, throwing your head back with a guttural moan as you did so. It felt so good, just like you knew it would with him, only him. 

Finally, you stopped moving your hips and slid up his body again, positioning your cunt over his face. You grabbed his hair roughly, pushing his face into your dripping pussy. His tongue immediately starting lapping at your folds, causing you to moan and start grinding against his face harshly, leaving almost no room for him to breathe. His nose bumped against your clit with every grind, and his scruff was creating the perfect friction for you. You ground down against his mouth faster and faster, and Frankie placed his hands on your hips, grounding you as he groaned into you. He dipped his tongue into your dripping hole, thrusting in and out rapidly; you keened, throwing your head back as you rapidly approached your high. Then, you pulled his hair again, forcing his mouth up to your clit. He pursed his lips, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his teeth and tongue before sucking hard. It was the last straw for you as you came hard on his face, grinding your hips down harshly, chasing every bit of that high. 

Your hips came to a stop and you lifted off him, staring down at his cum and mud covered face and chin. The lust in his eyes was still there, and you smirked, tapping his cheek lightly with a claw. “I'm not done with you yet, pretty boy.”, you snarled, sliding back down his body, scales catching his sensitive skin and cooling it. Frankie's eyes widened, then closed as you wrapped a hand around his cock, squeezing tightly enough to make him choke out a moan. He bucked into your hand as you smeared precum all over the tip, raking a single claw down his entire dick gently. Then, you lifted up off him, lining his cock up with your entrance before sinking down, taking him to the hilt. You cried out, claws digging into his chest and drawing blood as you adjusted to the size. It had been years since you had done this, and the stretch was almost too much; you could feel every vein pulsing against your walls. 

Frankie was in awe of you; he bucked his hips up into you, pushing himself impossibly deeper into your cunt. He reached up, dragging his fingers over the scales on your chest before pinching a nipple, rolling it between his fingers. You started to move, roughly sliding up and down his length causing you both to moan in tandem. His hands wandered to your hips, clenching them tightly as you quickened the pace, raking your claws down his chest as you did so. You saw him wince in pain, but it just made you dig your nails in harder. Frankie cried out in pain at that, but then his hips bucked uncontrollably and you laughed, a shrill hiss leaving your throat at the juxtaposition of it all. He was perfect, all thick and long and hitting all the right spots inside you. You leaned over him, catching his mouth in a surprisingly gentle kiss; he tangled his fingers in your curly hair as you pressed his hips further into the mud with every movement. 

As you broke the kiss, he looked up at you again and shuddered; your eyes and scales were lit up by a stray beam of light and you looked otherworldly, like something that didn't quite belong. Frankie was quickly pulled out of his fear by you clenching around him as you came with a groan. He bucked his hips once, then twice more and came with a loud shout of your name; you moaned at the sweet sound of it spilling from his lips. Your hand reached out, almost of its own accord, attaching itself to his neck and squeezing. His eyes bulged as you applied more pressure, claws sinking into the sides of his neck. Then, you pulled your hand away, ripping through his throat in the process. 

You watched the life drain from his eyes, gazing down at him unflinchingly. You slid him out of you with a soft grunt before pulling his body into the swamp, submerging him completely. You had made a deal with whatever gods there were, to bring you someone with whom you could spend the rest of your days. 

It took weeks for his body to heal, to become as yours was. You watched as law enforcement drug the swamp where you had taken Frankie, only to find nothing. Watched as people mourned him, watched as the boat tours were shuttered. Finally, it was time. You slipped a hand into his, willing him to awaken; his eyes, once brown, shot open to reveal bright amber. His face and body shone with bright, brand new brown and dark green scales that traced the length of his form. You smiled as he stared up at you, all sharp teeth. His hand flew to his throat as he coughed. “What did you do?”, he sputtered. You laughed before answering, “The gods gave a gift. Just like they gave me life, they did to you as well.” Frankie sat up, staring down at himself; he knew if he had a mirror, his eyes would be shining the same shade as yours. He rubbed his throat again, feeling the scar you had left on him. “Now, where were we?”, you asked, lifting yourself up to straddle his lap. His hands, now clawed, found your waist as you peered down at him through hooded eyes.

It took a long while for Frankie to come to terms with what you did. He missed his old life, the people and the livelihood he had. But, in time, and with uncharacteristic patience from you, he came around to the idea. Soon, he relished in his new form, joining you for hours, drifting through the murky swamp as you showed him all the things he could do now. 

And sometimes, when the light hit the water just right, people would swear they saw the spirit of you with Frankie Morales by your side. 

[joelalorian]

Wonder in Winterland - Part II

Hallmark!Joel x f!reader | wc: 5k | masterlist

Series Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy, with a occasional foul language and lots of banter in the AU style of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Matchmaker!Sarah. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie. Will post on Sundays throughout December.

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on this fun little series. It warms my heart like you wouldn't believe! I wrapped this part up early and couldn't wait until tomorrow, so here is Part II a day early. Also, if anyone is interested in creating a moodboard for this fic, you would have my undying love for eternity! Thank you brittmb115 for the perfect moodboard!

Series Masterlist

Part II

“I see you met Barkley,” Maria laughed as you and the pup made your way down the stairs. “He likes to make himself right at home.”

“He’s a great napping partner,” your replied with a broad grin. “How long have you had him?”

“Oh, Barkley’s not ours, he’s Joel’s dog. I think he’s had Barkley for about three years now. Just showed up one day, underfed and in dire need of grooming, and never left,” Maria explained, bending down to greet Barkley with enthusiastic belly rubs. “Joel checked with all the shelters and vets in the entire state hoping to find his owners, but no luck. Now he and Joel are best buds and he stays with us with sometimes.”

Gosh, as if you didn’t already find the man insanely attractive. Now you found out he’s a rescuer of lost dogs. Your heart melted into a puddle right there on the gorgeous hardwood floor.

“Joel and Sarah should be here any minute. Hope you’re hungry!”

The dining room at the Evergreen House was a picture-perfect holiday scene with a long wooden table polished to a deep mahogany, the chandelier above adorned with garlands of holly and fairy lights that cast a warm glow around the festive room. The table filled with delicious food and the scent of roasted turkey and baked cinnamon apples mingled with the faint fragrance of the artfully decorated tree in the corner.

“It smells heavenly in here,” you admitted, taking a seat at the large table.

Joel entered just as you settled a cloth napkin in your lap. Tall and broad, dressed in a fresh green flannel and dark jeans, his presence filled the room. His dark umber eyes lit up at seeing you, leaving your heart sparking to life like the first crackle of a fire in the hearth. A young girl bounded in behind him, an adorable ball of energy wrapped in a red sweater with snowflake patterns. Her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity when they landed on you, but her attention quickly veered toward the happy pup as Barkley sought her affections by spinning circles in front of her. A man with dark hair like Joel’s only longer entered the room last, slipping into the seat at the head of the table and flashed a welcoming grin in your direction.

Maria clapped her hands together once everyone was seated, her smile bright. “Everyone, this is our newest guest.” She went about introducing you by name to Tommy and Sarah, and you were instantly charmed by the knowledge that Sarah was Joel’s daughter. Still, you were curious about his marital status. Your eyes darted to Joel’s left hand to find the third finger bare before turning your focus back to Maria. “She’s here thanks to Joel and his, uh, interesting day on the highway.”

Sarah giggled, nudging her dad’s side as his cheeks flushed, a faint pink blooming beneath his scruffy beard. “Interesting, huh?” he muttered, pouty lips curving into a sheepish smile.

Taking pity on him, you chimed in. “Let’s just say his charm makes up for his ability to block a highway.”

Joel’s laugh came soft and low, the sound melting into the warmth of the room. His eyes caught yours, holding your gaze just a moment longer than necessary. Your heart gave an unexpected flutter, the kind that felt like the start of something magical. ‘Twas the season for it, after all. Right?

The dining room soon buzzed with the easy warmth of family chatter, laughter weaving its way around the table. Joel sat across from you, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp, flicking your way every so often as if drawn to you involuntarily. Beside him, Sarah eagerly loaded her plate, small hands working with the kind of determination that only a child could muster when mashed potatoes were involved. Judging by the size of the pile on her plate, Sarah’s eyes were three times the size of her stomach and you doubted she would finish even half of it.

Tommy leant back in his chair, his easy grin matching the sparkle in Maria’s eyes as they presided over the table like a pair of holiday hosts straight out of a Christmas card.

“So,” Sarah began, looking at you with wide-eyed curiosity. “Are you married?”

You nearly choked on your sip of cabernet, the question snowballing out of nowhere. Joel froze mid-reach for the breadbasket, his ears turning visibly pink. “Sarah,” he started, voice low with a gentle warning, “that’s not—”

“Nope,” you interjected, cutting him off with a good-natured smile. “Not married, you cheeky little thing. Why do you ask?”

Sarah shrugged, her mischievous grin giving away more than her casual tone. “I was just wondering, ‘cause you’re pretty and Daddy’s not married either. Isn’t that funny?”

Tommy sat back in his seat and barked out a laugh as his brother groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Well, I’ll be,” Tommy said, his voice thick with amusement. “Kids say the damnedest things, huh?” He ignored the scowl Joel sent his way.

“Sarah,” Joel muttered, the look he shot her equal parts exasperated and affectionate. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Like, oh, I don’t know… school?”

Sarah scoffed, clearly enjoying making her dad uncomfortable in front of you. “School’s boring, dad. This is way more interesting.”

“Smart kid,” Tommy quipped, raising his glass in her direction and flashing Joel a cheeky wink. “She’s not wrong, ya know.”

“Tommy! Stop encouraging her,” Maria hissed, hiding the grin that tugged at her lips behind her wine.

Joel’s gaze darted to you, his lips curving into a helpless smile that made your stomach flip. “Sorry about that,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the chatter from the other three Millers. “She’s got a knack for stirring up trouble.”

“Which she clearly learned from your brother,” you teased, leaning over the table just enough to meet his eyes fully and keep your conversation quiet. “But I don’t mind. She’s just curious and I’m utterly charmed by her. Besides,” you added, your eyes sparkling and tone playful, “she’s not the only charming Miller in the room.”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up slightly, a spark of surprise flickering across his handsome face. “Careful, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice like warm honey coating your skin. “My brother’s married, ya know, and his wife is sitting right next to you.”

You responded with a playful roll of your eyes, “He’s obviously not the Miller I was talking about, Joel.”

“Well, you keep talkin’ like that and I’ll start thinkin’ you like me.”

Tommy let out a low whistle, clearly eavesdropping. “Careful with this one, brother. Sounds like she’ll give you a run for your money.”

Joel shot his brother a look, but you didn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed, his confidence returning in spades. “Just tryin’ to make a good impression on the big city lady,” he said, gaze settling warmly back on you. “Not every day you meet someone who fits right in like they’ve been here all along.”

The words, simple as they were, carried a weight that made your cheeks warm. You glanced down at your plate, digging your toes under Barkley’s fur as he laid beneath the table to distract yourself, and fought the pull of your lips curving into a pleased smile. Maria’s knowing expression told you the fight was for naught.

“Alright, you rascals,” Tommy said, breaking the moment with a chuckle. “Let’s finish up and move onto dessert before Sarah starts planning a wedding.”

After dinner, you settled on a couch in front of the fire with Sarah, where the rest of the Millers insisted you stay while they cleaned up. Being a chatty and precocious young girl, Sarah regaled you with various tales of her and Joel’s life, often including embarrassingly cute details about her father and pausing to eye your reactions. She was a delightful storyteller.

“I meant it at dinner,” she said, suddenly changing subjects from how she taught Barkley to fetch pinecones yesterday. Her voice took on a hint of longing and wonder. “You really are pretty.”

You hummed in response, running your fingers over her hair. “Thank you. You are so pretty, too, Sarah. You have your dad’s eyes, like a little puppy dog’s when it’s begging for treats. I bet you get away with murder with eyes like that.”

Sarah shrugged with a giggle before her gaze sharpened. “So, I think that means you like my dad’s eyes. You said you’re not married. Do you have a boyfriend? Or a… a girlfriend?”

Goodness but this young girl was quick and, apparently, hyper-fixated on playing matchmaker for her dad. Your wide eyes softened as you realized how Joel was raising his daughter to be accepting and open-minded and your heart melted. He was a great dad.

“Nope, no boyfriends or girlfriends. I’ve been too focused on my work for a while,” you admitted. Before Sarah could pepper you with more questions, Joel entered the room, Barkley following right on his heels. Crinkles formed around his eyes with the brightness of his smile at the sight of the two of you huddled together on the couch.

“It’s stopped snowing. I promised Sarah we’d walk through town before we go home. Would you like to join us to see the town square all lit up?” he asked, hip propped against the arm of the sofa next to Sarah.

Reluctant at first, you gave in to the excitement in Sarah’s voice when she chimed in. “You must see the lights! And the tree! It’s so pretty!”

Bundled in borrowed mittens, coat, and scarf that carried the faint scent of fresh laundry, you followed Joel and Sarah outside into a winter wonderland. Barkley’s leash was clutched tightly in Sarah’s hand as he trotted beside her.

The town square looked like it had been plucked straight out of a holiday snow globe and you stared in awe. Strings of lights crisscrossed above the road, casting a warm glow over the dusting of snow remaining after the last plow went by. Shops selling hot cocoa and hand-knit scarves, pastries and baubles, lined the street, and a small choir sang carols by the towering Christmas tree adorned with ribbons, lights, and silver tinsel right in the heart of the square.

Sarah skipped ahead with Barkley, her boots making tiny impressions in the snow as she left the adults behind. Joel strolled beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched against the cold as his warm eyes tracked his daughter’s movements. Every so often, his arm brushed yours, the accidental contact sending a surprising jolt of warmth through you each time.

Watching as Sarah danced around the choir as Barkley stood guard, movements perfectly in sync with the melody, you smiled. “She’s really something,” you said softly.

“She is,” Joel agreed, his voice tinged with pride. His coffee-colored eyes, full of thoughtful vulnerability, met yours. “I hit the damn jackpot as far as daughters go. Her, uh, mom passed away during childbirth. It’s been me and her against the world ever since.”

An involuntary gasp left your lips, and you gazed at him somberly. Not knowing what to say, you finally settled on a soft, “That must have been so hard.”

Joel nodded, his attempt at a smile falling short. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There were so many days where I doubted myself, that I thought she’d be better off with someone else, someone who could give her everything she deserved, but… Tommy, the pain in the ass that he can be, was always there to help and talked sense into me. My parents too, while they were still alive. Soon enough, we found a rhythm and the rest is history. Now I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Goodness, but this man was something and you would fall for him head over tea kettle if you weren’t careful… “You’re an amazing dad, Joel. I could tell the moment I met Sarah and saw you two interact. She’s lucky to have you as a father.”

“Naw, I’m the lucky one. That girl made me a better man, one to be proud of.” A shine took to his eyes, and you glanced away to give him a moment. Before long, Joel cleared his throat. His gaze shifted to you, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t think I said it before, but I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You met his eyes, the soft light of the Christmas lights reflected in their warm brown depths. “Me, too,” you admitted, the barely whispered words carried by the gentle, crisp breeze between you.

“I don’t usually open up like that,” Joel confessed, suddenly bashful. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I find it really easy to talk to you.”

Warmth rushed your cheeks as you smiled back at him. “It’s all part of my mysterious charm. You Millers aren’t the only ones blessed with it.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he teased back with a bark of laughter.

The following morning, you woke early missing the extra warmth Barkley provided as Joel took him home last night. Once you were up and moving, Maria offered to make you breakfast – as their only guest at the moment, she and Tommy catered to your every need – but you graciously declined, wanting to explore the town during daylight hours after the tranquil beauty of last night.

“Well, you’ll have to stop by the diner then, if you want some breakfast while you explore,” Tommy said. “It’s called Mac’s, but a woman named Tess owns it now.”

“She’s a close friend of the family, so is the cook, Frank. Joel’s known them forever,” Maria added. “They’ll take good care of you.”

“Yeah, they’re good people.” Tommy paused, his gaze thoughtful for a moment. “There was a time when we thought Tess and—”

“You should get going if you want to beat the rush,” Maria cut her husband off with a sharp glance. “It’s the only diner in town and gets real busy around this time.”

You glanced back and forth between the couple, feeling like you were missing something important – you reckoned it might have something to do with Joel, whatever Tommy was about to say about Tess – but opted to shrug it off. Wasn’t your business anyway.

“Ok, I’ll head to the diner first, then explore the town. Thank you again for dinner last night.” Donning the borrowed coat and scarf Maria insisted you wear, you waved goodbye to the couple and ventured outside.

The morning was sharp and bracing as you stepped out of the Evergreen House, your breath puffing in miniature clouds in front of you. The sun hung low in the sky, barely breaking over the mountains in the distance, pale light shimmering off a few inches of fresh snow blanketing the landscape. Winterland held a quiet charm in the early hours, with the faint sound of wind chimes and the crunch of boots on the snow as the townspeople walked by.

Only a block down from the inn, the diner sat in a squat, brick building with frosted windows artfully decorated for the holidays and an old, hand-painted sign that read Mac’s. The moment you pushed through the door, a bell jingled overhead, and a cozy warmth wrapped its grip around you. The air was a mix of scents – freshly brewed coffee, sizzling bacon, and the cloying sweetness of maple syrup – and the low hum of morning conversation carried through the seating area.

An attractive, tall woman with long hair and a keen gaze stood behind the counter. Judging by the nametag on her retro diner uniform, the woman was none other than Tess. She greeted you with a welcoming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist. “Well, you must be the new gal Maria told me about. Welcome to Winterland. Find yourself a seat anywhere you’d like, and I’ll be right with you.”

You slid onto a seat at the counter, the red vinyl worn but comfortable. At a nearby table, a man with brown hair and a thick beard scowled at his coffee like it personally wronged him. His presence practically radiated grumpiness, but it was somehow endearing in this environment.

“That’s Bill,” Tess whispered conspiratorially across the counter when she caught you observing the man. “Don’t mind him. He’s all bark and no bite.”

While she spoke, the cook stepped out from behind the pass – an older man with a kind face and mischievous smile – and said, “Speak for yourself, Tess. Last time I told him we were out of pie; he about bit my head off!”

“Shut it, Frank,” Bill growled from his table without looking up, earning a peal of laughter from Tess.

Frank winked at you as he returned to his station. “What’ll it be, darlin’? I make a mean French toast if you’re hungry.”

Before you could respond, Tess leaned on the counter and added, “And don’t forget to try the coffee. Best in town.”

“It’s the only coffee in town,” Bill grumbled unhelpfully.

The warmth of the place and friendly banter between locals was contagious. You ordered eggs benedict, your favorite, but opted for a diet cola instead of coffee. You watched as Frank worked the grill with lazy efficiency, bopping to the music softly playing from the overhead speakers. Between the homey atmosphere of the inn and now the diner, you felt like you were on holiday and momentarily forgot about the inconvenience of your broken-down truck.

Bill muttered something under his breath as Tess refilled his coffee. “You should smile more, Bill. It makes you look pretty,” she teased, plunking the pot of hot liquid on his table with a flourish.

“I’ll give you pretty,” Bill grumbled in return, but you caught the ghost of a smirk on his lips as Tess walked away.

Your breakfast was ready a few minutes later, the eggs poached perfectly and drizzled with just the right of hollandaise. You dug in, savoring the mix of flavors. “This is amazing,” you said. You meant it, too. You’d ordered eggs benedict at many a restaurant over the years and Frank’s was among the best.

“Frank’s a wizard with a griddle,” Tess replied, coming around the counter to plop down on the seat next to yours. “Time for a break, I think. He’s been keepin’ this town fed for years, long before I took over this place. And Bill over there? He’s been keepin’ that seat warm just as long.” Leaning a little closer, her voice dipped as she added, “I think he comes by just to see Frank. They’ve been sweet on each other for ages.”

Unsuspectingly, Frank piped up again. “Don’t let Bill fool you. He acts grumbly and tough, but he always leaves a big tip.”

“I’ll bet he does,” you teased, winking at Tess. You loved getting this kind of insight to the small-town life. The lighthearted banter and how seamlessly they included you made you feel like you really belonged. Suddenly, you could picture your life in a town like Winterland…

Shaking away the thought as a pipe dream, you finished your meal and turned back to Tess. “So, if you own the place, why is it called Mac’s Diner?”

Tess spun on the stool and glanced around the place. “Ah, well, it was my uncle’s diner. I worked here as a teenager and came back to help him as he got older. He passed last year and left the place to me. I tried many times over the years to convince him to do some updates, but he never did. And now I’m not sure how to make it my own without losing the parts that remind us all of him.”

“I can help you with that! I’m in marketing and work for a big firm back in New York City,” you explained. “I can give you a few tips and small changes that will make a big difference without taking away any of the original charm, starting with changing the name to something that resembles you.”

The pair of you chatted for a while, the breakfast rush coming and going as you brainstormed ideas. Once Tess had a solid to-do list, the conversation switched directions.

“So, Ms. Marketing Guru, what brought you to our delightful little hole in the wall?” Tess’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

You told her about your cross-country trip, the fear of flying, the broken-down truck, and Joel’s help on the highway. At the mention of Joel, Tess’s expression turned dreamy, her smile almost knowing.

“Ah, Joel Miller,” she said, her tone full of hidden meaning. “He’s a good one. Lucky you ran into him.”

Having been completely enchanted by you, Frank chimed in from the grill with a cheeky grin. “Joel’s a real catch. The kind that would make you want to stick around if you hooked ‘em. No one’s been able to in a very long time, though many have tried.”

Warmth rushed your cheeks as you spluttered. “Oh no! It’s not like that.” Despite your insistence, it felt like an outright lie even to yourself.

“Uh huh,” Bill, Frank, and Tess all replied in perfect synchronicity.

The chill in the air deepened throughout the day and you were ready to defrost in front of a crackling fire after a thorough exploration of the quaint town. You arrived back at the inn to find a frazzled Maria staring at a slowly dying fire in the hearth, the rack for firewood next to her sat empty.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when Maria sighed dramatically.

“We’re completely out of firewood,” she said, gesturing toward the sad little fire. In a flustered ramble, she continued, “Joel’s been our go-to for years, and we usually stay well stocked, but it slipped our minds to get more this week. Now we have a new guest coming this evening and a million things to do and no wood left to keep the fireplaces going. I’d ask Joel to bring a load over, but he already does so much for us, I don’t want to burden him with this during the little free time he gets.”

“Oh, well, I can go,” you offered without hesitation, hating to see your new friend so stressed. “I mean, as long as you don’t mind me borrowing a truck, I’ve got plenty of free time and it’s not far, right?”

Maria’s face lit up with gratitude, warmth coming off her stronger than the dying fire. “Are you kiddin’? If you’re willing to help, of course you can borrow a truck. I’ll get you the keys.” She bounced off as you went up to your room to change into warmer clothes.

A few minutes later, you met at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re an angel, you know that? Just tell Joel I sent you over and he’ll know exactly what we need. Oh, and don’t let him talk you into lifting anything heavy!”

Bundled back into the loaner coat, scarf, and gloves, you set off toward the Millers’ farm in Tommy’s pickup. The heat took a while to kick in as you drove to the edge of the small town and turned onto a private road. The farmhouse and barn looked like something out of a storybook. Snow capped the red barn’s roof, and smoke curled in lazy whisps from the chimney of the house. The scent of woodsmoke and fresh hay filled the air when you opened the door, making the chill seem almost pleasant.

Joel was already outside by a neat stack of logs, axe in hand, splitting firewood with an ease that made the whole process look like second nature. Nearby, Sarah stood next to a preciously beautiful miniature horse, braiding its mane as her laughter rang out across the snow-covered fields. The little horse matched the girl’s laugh with a snort, and you smiled, completely enchanted with the entire scene.

“Hey darlin’,” Joel greeted with pleasant surprise as you approached, leaning on the handle of his axe. His dark eyes visibly warmed at the sight of you, and you felt a matching warmth pool deep in your belly.

“Hi Joel,” you replied softly. He looked good, really good, with flushed cheeks and wind-blown curls, brown eyes shining in the afternoon sunlight. You almost forgot why you were there. “Maria sent me to pick up some firewood. Guess we ran out?” you explained, gesturing toward the truck. “She said you’d know what to do.”

Joel huffed out a chuckle, setting the axe aside. “I reckon I do. Let me load up a pile for you. I’ll bring them another supply tomorrow morning.”

From the nearby pen, Sarah perked up, pausing mid-braid. “Wait! Don’t let her leave yet, Dad! We should give her a tour!”

Tilting his head in acquiescence toward Sarah, he turned to you with a playful grin. “What do you think, darlin’? Got a little time to spare?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, lips curved up in a broad smile. “To see more of this beautiful place? You bet!”

Sarah practically bounced with excitement, tugging your hand to lead you toward the barn while her dad took a few minutes to load a pile of firewood into the bed of the truck. Soon enough, Joel joined you, guiding the sweet mini horse along with him. The barn doors creaked open to reveal a cozy, well-kept space where a row of horses shifted in their stalls, soft snickers filling the air. The earthy scent of hay mixed with the faint aroma of saddle leather and horse feed.

“This is Moonbeam,” Sarah announced as Joel ushered the chestnut mini horse toward its stall. “She’s my favorite. She lets me braid her mane every day.”

“She’s a beauty,” you said, stepping closer to stroke the mini horse’s velvet-soft nose. Moonbeam huffed gently, her large eyes calm as she nudged your hand, seeking more gentle pets.

While Joel secured Moonbeam in her stall, Sarah steered you further down the line of stalls until you came to a large, sleek black horse. “This is Daddy’s horse. His name is Onyx.”

The large horse popped his head over the top of the stall, checking you out with unguarded curiosity. He was breathtakingly beautiful. You held out a hand, palm up, allowing Onyx to snuffle at your skin. He nudged your hand, urging you to pet him, which you gladly did.

“You’re a gorgeous boy,” you whispered to the horse. Much like your dad, echoed silently in your mind. As you stepped back from Onyx, ready to continue the tour, Barkley trotted into the barn and rushed over to greet you. Bending down, you ruffled the golden retriever’s ears, pressing your face against his soft fur. “Where’d you come from, huh? Were you on patrol, keeping an eye on the place?”

Joel leaned against the stall door, watching you with quiet wonder. “You’re good with animals,” he noted. “First my dog and now my horses are falling in love with you.”

You glanced at him, a little thrill sparking at the compliment. “It’s my animal magnetism,” you joked lightly.

Sarah stood beside you, her baby cow eyes darting back and forth between you and her dad, a secret smile curling her lips. Without a word, she began leading you out of the barn with the intention of continuing the tour. However, when you all exited the barn, the sun had dipped low behind the mountains, and the air turned even frostier than before.

“I think it’s time for me to get back to the inn with the firewood,” you said, the disappointment in your voice matched Sarah’s falling expression. “It’s getting late, and Maria said there are new guests coming. She’ll want to get the fireplaces sorted before they arrive.”

“But we haven’t finished the tour! There’s so much more to see!” Sarah exclaimed, one foot stomping on the ground in frustration.

“Sarah, mind your manners,” Joel reminded the young girl in a gently stern voice, watching as her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. Turning to you, he added, “We’ll walk you back to the truck.”

Joel led the way, and you looked over your shoulder, watching Barkley nudge Sarah as she scuffed her boots across the ground unhappily. You felt bad for the young girl, knowing how excited she was to show you everything.

“She really likes you,” Joel said, voice a deep rumble over the wind, when he caught you watching his daughter. “Hasn’t stopped talking about you since meeting you. In fact, it seems my whole family is quite taken with you.”

You quirked an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? And what about you, Joel Miller?”

He glanced away briefly, curls dancing in the wind, before meeting your gaze with a soft, vulnerable smile. “Oh, I’m definitely taken with you, too, darlin’.”

You reached the driver’s side of the truck before you could formulate a suitably charming response and settled for a simple, grateful goodbye. Sarah darted forward to hug you, Joel watching with a warm gaze.

“Thanks for the tour of the barn, little bug,” you spoke into her hair as you bent slightly to return the hug, and the girl beamed at the new nickname.

“Why don’t you come back again in the morning and we��ll finish the tour,” Joel suggested, suddenly feeling that same disappointment as his daughter at the idea of you leaving. “I’ll pick you up around eight when I drop off another load of firewood.”

Sarah bounced in place, hands pressed together and begging you to agree. You stood up straight, eyes darting between Joel’s dark coffee ones. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be in the way or interrupt your day.”

“I’m sure,” Joel insisted. “We’d love to have you over again. Maybe you could stay for lunch?”

“And maybe we can go sledding! There’s a big hill over there,” Sarah pointed to a slope in the distance eagerly. “Please?”

How could you possibly say no to not just one, but two sets of baby cow eyes staring pleadingly at you?

“Okay, if you’re both sure, I’d be happy to.”

After another round of goodbyes, the Millers watched as you climbed into the truck and drove off, waving with broad smiles the whole time.

tbc

tag list (i included anyone who previously commented, requested, or I thought might like to be added, but please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @abirdsnest @brittmb115 @harrysrosetatto @carolineesnell @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @lovely-vamp-princess @kyberblade

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox (5)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, swearing ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist Song used in this chapter: Ooh to be ah (Kajagoogoo)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

In the morning, she was woken from a deep sleep by Helaena saying that breakfast was ready and that if she felt like it, she could take a shower afterwards. She rubbed her eyes, not knowing for a moment where she was or what had happened.

She thanked her and swallowed loudly, remembering the scenes from the night before, wondering for a moment if it was real or if she had just dreamt it. She quickly unlocked her phone to see her message history and froze.

Oh fuck.

She pressed her lips together thinking only of how embarrassingly pleasurable what she had experienced with him was, a closeness that probably surprised both her and him.

He enjoyed it.

He wouldn't have done it if it had been any other way.

She thought she couldn't screw it up.

She felt something for him.

She was surprised to see that in the kitchen, besides their mother, was also their father, whom she saw extremely rarely, from what Helaena told her he was often away on long business trips.

"Good morning." She said softly, and he nodded with a smile, swallowing loudly a piece of bread roll he had just taken a bite of.

"Good morning."

She decided to eat something light and settled for cornflakes with milk. She almost choked on them when Aemond appeared out of the blue, apparently he had just taken a shower because his hair was still damp.

He sat down opposite her and gave her a meaningful glance that made her hot, then reached his hand for the pancakes, involuntarily running his tongue over his lower lip.

She remembered the touch of his lips on hers, how soft and firm they were, how well he kissed, and lowered her gaze, swallowing loudly as she continued eating, listening to the exchange between Aegon and his mother.

"Your tutor says you can't concentrate and you're constantly looking through your phone instead of listening to what the teachers are saying." She said lowly, apparently hoping her husband would pick up on the subject as well. Mr Targaryen looked at her surprised and grunted, glancing at his son.

"Is that true, Aegon?"

Aegon rolled his eyes, combing through his hair with an impatient hand gesture, and snorted.

"It's Sunday for goodness sake, can I have at least one day of peace?"

After breakfast she thanked their parents for their hospitality, grabbed her things and decided she would go home, not wanting to take up any more of their time, she had to study for a test on Monday anyway.

Helaena hugged her and thanked her again for the lovely time, she glanced out of the corner of her eye at her brother who was sitting at the table looking at her with an impenetrable gaze.

They had not written to each other.

She wanted to, was even dying over not having contact with him, but on the other hand she thought that she couldn't keep nagging him now, that she had promised herself that she would let it all go at a leisurely pace, that hurrying might only discourage him.

She wondered if he was also thinking about her and what had happened between them.

The next day she got up very early and ran to take a shower, excited to see him again at the bus stop, to talk again. She was afraid that it would be awkward and weird, but at the same time she couldn't get the smile off her face. She decided to wear her favourite black short-sleeved dress with a collar, fastened with big white buttons and topped it off with black trainers.

She showed up well ahead of schedule, however, she couldn't stand to be home anymore out of excitement. She could feel her legs bouncing with excitement as she sat on the bench.

She swallowed loudly when she saw him walking with his backpack thrown over his shoulder from across the street, earphones in his ears as usual. Not knowing why, she got up from her seat as he walked closer, looking at him with big eyes.

For a moment they stared at each other, not knowing how to act, she could feel her heart pounding hard.

He pressed his lips together and looked away, swallowing loudly, without even taking his earphones out of his ears.

Something was wrong.

She didn't know why she felt such a tight squeeze of disappointment when he didn't sit next to her on the bus, but somewhere in the back, sitting with his hood pulled over his head, his forehead pressed against the glass.

He took a few steps back for some reason.

She swallowed loudly, feeling tears under her eyelids, turning the other way, wondering what she had done wrong.

She wiped her cheek with a trembling hand, ashamed that he had broken her heart with such ease.

She didn't seek his gaze or his attention, subconsciously sensing that he didn't want it, trying to focus on the class but feeling only a tightness in her throat and discomfort in her stomach. She thought she wanted to maintain her dignity, that she wouldn't run after him and beg on her knees for an explanation.

If he wanted to move away and changed his mind, so be it.

She tried not to look at him while he and a few other people stood at the bus stop waiting for their bus to arrive. She shuddered, however, when she heard someone say his name, a low, feminine voice.

She turned over her shoulder and noticed how a college-looking girl, much older than them threw her arms around him, she had long, beautiful raven-black hair, she was dressed in a smart, light-coloured coat and long, black heeled boots.

She looked so mature.

"Why aren't you answering my messages? Are you angry with me?" She asked, touching his arm in a way that suggested she knew him very well.

She saw him give her a quick, frightened look, as if he was uncomfortable that she was watching the scene, and then swallowed loudly, tense.

"Not here, Alys." He replied so quietly that she barely heard it.

"Are you ashamed of me?" She giggled, a genuine smile on her lips, her eyes bright, intense green, beautiful.

She felt tears under her eyelids again and turned her back to them, quickly putting her earphones in her ears, not wanting to hear this discussion, turning on 'Ooh to Be Ah' by Kajagoogoo on her phone, feeling the tears run down her face.

She stared dully ahead, wondering if they were together, if she had miscalculated in thinking that he was inexperienced and lost just like her.

She imagined him the way she wanted to see him.

She boarded the bus first, not caring if he was still talking to her or not. She sat down in the first better available seat, and when she saw that he immediately sat next to her she pressed her lips together and stood up, wanting to change.

She felt him grab her arm, felt him say something to her, but she pulled away from him.

"Now do you want to talk?" She growled, not even taking her earphones out of her ears, not even caring what he had to say, walking to the other end of the bus, tired and frustrated by his behaviour, by the fact that he didn't know what he wanted, by deciding for himself when they were supposed to talk and when they weren't.

She wasn't a toy but a human being who felt.

She figured real friends didn't behave like that.

She waited until everyone had left before heading for the exit and saw through the window that he hadn't gone home but was waiting, his earphones hanging by his neck from under his sweatshirt. She squeezed her eyes shut, sighing heavily.

Fuck.

She stepped off the bus, pretending not to see him, but he immediately followed her, grabbing her by her arm, turning her violently in his direction, ripping her earphones from her ears.

"− what −"

"− can you fucking wait? − I'm talking to you −" He growled, and she pulled away from him, frowning her eyebrows, furious.

"Just an hour ago you were pretending you didn't know me, my friend." She said with a sneer, turning away from him again, his hand again on her arm, this time clenched much tighter.

"That hurts." She muttered as he turned her again violently, holding her wrist, his jaw clenched, fury in his eyes.

"− just − just stop for fucking second and listen − okay? −" He asked, and she sighed heavily, looking away, standing still, feeling like her heart was in her throat.

She didn't know if she wanted to hear what he had to say.

"My ex-girlfriend texted me last night saying she wanted to meet me. That she misses me. I couldn't recover from her for a long time. I didn't know anymore what or if I felt for her after everything that happened between us… you know. Fuck. I just wanted to think it all through. Alone. And instead of giving me time, like you did, she came to our school nagging me. Okay?" He asked lowly, leaning over her, and she looked at him with a pained expression.

"Whenever you have to think about something are you going to pretend you don't know me? Don't worry, from me you will never experience nagging. I don't want a friend who cares only about his comfort. I will not be your secondary solace. I regret everything that has happened between us." She said with pain and disappointment, pulling away from him and moving towards her house without looking at him.

It took me a long time to recover from her.

I didn't know how I felt.

He still loved her.

He still loved her, and yet he himself proposed that she stay with him, that she kiss him.

He wanted to see if it would feel good with another girl?

To feel better?

She threw herself down on her bed as soon as she got back into her room and burst into loud sobs.

She felt used.

She believed him.

She believed him to have pure, sincere intentions.

She pressed her lips together as she saw her display light up in the evening, the screen showing that she had received a new message from him.

She shook her head and went back to reading her textbook, not wanting to talk to him, not wanting to listen to his explanations, not wanting to be his friend or anyone else.

After half an hour, however, she got another message and then another and sighed heavily, heartbroken, wondering why he suddenly cared. She figured he wanted her now because she didn't need him, but if she just got his interest back then he would pretend not to know her again.

She reached for her phone and unlocked it, going into her messages with a pounding heart.

She pressed her lips together reading his last two messages and swallowed loudly, feeling hot in her stomach.

I told Alys I'm sorry, but for now I want to focus on a relationship with someone else and by that someone I mean you.

Oh shit.

What was she going to say to that?

She sat and looked at the display, panicked.

She herself no longer knew what she felt, what she wanted.

She shuddered when suddenly a new message appeared below previous ones.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

She decided she would do just that.

That she wouldn't answer him, she would just think about it.

Let him know what it was like.

The next day it was he who was already waiting at the bus stop when she left the house, as soon as he saw her he immediately pulled his earphones out of his ears, looking at her with wide eyes. She walked up to him and they stood like that for a while in silence.

"…did you get my messages?" He asked lowly, uncertainly, and she nodded. He swallowed loudly and hummed, as if he was thinking about something.

"Shall we go truant?"

____

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[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Prologue

Fool's Fare: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Death of parents, angst, talk of ghosts and the supernatural, Big Brother!Bradley...I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I couldn't help myself, so I went ahead and wrote this. I am just as interested as y'all to see where this fic goes lol As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are encouraged and appreciated! I'll be doing Drabble Sunday this weekend to celebrate my first 100 followers! So get your requests ready!! 18+ ONLY!! And you can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The ocean was a deep, terrifying swirl of forgotten pasts and harrowing mysteries. The vicious pull of the waves sending many sailors to their graves for thousands of years without mercy. No, the ocean was not kind. It was the source of life on the best of occasions and cruel and unforgiving on the worst.

Your father had been a sailor. Working for a large shipping company hauling various goods from one end of the sea to the other, he was often gone for long stretches of time. After months of being away, it was always a joyous reunion when he would return. He would swing you up in his arms, twirling you until your little giggles turned into full blown laughter. He would set you back down on your feet and greet your mother with an affectionate kiss to her temple before tugging you both into his arms.

“My best girls are always here to greet me when I get home,” he’d grin. Your mother would hum, running her hands through the beard he’d grow during his time away.

“Come inside,” she’d say, leading you both into your modest, seaside home. Your father would sit at the table as your mother fixed him a plate. He would tell her that he was more than capable of fixing his own plate, but she would wave him off and place the food gently in front of him with a kiss to the top of his head.

One day, when you were a little over four years old, your father had come home from a voyage with a scraggly looking boy who looked to be about twice your age. Your father had been dragging the boy by the scruff of his collar when you and your mother had come out to greet him. The boy had dark brown hair that had been bleached from time in the sun and steady, brown eyes that held steady as he took in the house before him.

“Found this one on the coasts of the Carolinas,” your father had said with a grin, letting go of the boy’s shirt. He stumbled forward, almost falling headfirst onto the ground. He looked back at the older man with a scowl before turning to look at the two of you.

“My, don’t you look a sight?” your mother had said with a small smile as she took the boy in. He puffed out his chest in a bid to make himself seem bigger and your mother had laughed. You took the few, small steps up to him, taking his hand in yours excitedly.

“My name is y/n,” you chirped up at him. “What’s yours?”

The boy studied you with pursed lips.

“Bradley,” he muttered. Your father had let out a booming laugh, causing Bradley to jump.

“That’s the first answer we’ve been able to get out of him since we caught him rifling through our supplies on the ship!” he guffawed. “C’mon now, boy. Let’s go get us some supper.”

And so your family had taken in Bradley Bradshaw as one of your own, and he settled in fairly quickly amongst the rest of you. He would help your mother out with different chores around the house, and when your father was home, he would take you and Bradley down by the docks to teach you the ways of sailing.

“You want to tie it like this, sweetheart,” he’d say to you as he guided your hands on how to move the rope. “It’s one of the most important knots a sailor needs to know. It’s called the ‘bowline.’”

“Like this?” Bradley had asked, holding up his own rope for your father to inspect.

“Atta boy, Rooster!” your father had laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. Bradley had earned the nickname not too long after he had joined your little family. Your father had just gotten back from another transporting job. He had been woken from his sleep by sounds coming from the kitchen. When he had stumbled into the room, he had seen Bradley already working on feeding the fire for the day.

“The sun isn’t even up yet, Bradley,” your father had laughed as the boy shrunk in on himself. “I doubt even the rooster is awake! Looks like you’re gunnin’ for his job.”

And the name had stuck.

Now, Bradley was more confident in his place within your family. Now, Bradley was much taller and his form was filling out thanks to the many hours spent doing the heavy lifting around your home.

“Keep this up,” your father started, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, “and maybe I’ll take you with me on a job here soon.”

Bradley’s face lit up. “Do you mean it?”

“Let’s see, you're about, what, sixteen now?”

“Yes, sir,” Bradley nodded, a smile etched onto his face. Your father nodded thoughtfully.

“Yeah, you should be ready here soon.”

You looked down at the rope in your hands with a frown. “I’ll never get this. Why do I even have to learn this?”

“Because, my little minnow,” your father smiled, “it’s an important skill to know and have.”

“But Mama says that women aren’t even allowed on ships,” you muttered. Your father smoothed the hair out of your face with a thoughtful hum.

“It’s true, women were once considered bad luck to have on ships, and many men still consider them to be so,” he began. “But times are changing, and maybe one day soon you’ll get to set sail with us.”

“Really?” you asked him, eyes filled with hope. He laughed and nodded, turning to look at Bradley.

“C’mon you two. Let’s go see what Mother’s been cooking.”

The three of you trudged up the hill to your home where your mother was already standing outside to greet you. Greeting her with a tender kiss, your father ushed you and Bradley into the house.

When supper was finished and the table had been cleared, you all gathered around the small fireplace. Your father sat in his favorite chair while Bradley and your mother took up the other two. You sat by your fathers feet, resting your head against his knee. The smell from your father’s pipe permeated the room and left you with a sense of fond familiarity as he slowly stroked your hair.

“Papa,” you said, “will you tell us a story?”

“And what kind of story would you like to hear, little minnow?”

“An adventure!” Bradley had grinned. You shook your head.

“No,” you argued. “A ghost story.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, y/n,” the older boy scoffed. Your father hummed with a low chuckle.

“I wouldn’t be so sure o’ that, Rooster,” he smiled. Bradley fixed him with an incredulous look.

“Surely you can’t be serious?”

“As the dead, lad,” your father said solemnly, rubbing the bowl of his pipe. “Ghosts walk amongst the living, as real as you or I. Some even sail the seas, waiting for the day Davy Jones lets them pass into the great beyond.”

“What does Davy Jones even have to do with the dead,” Bradley huffed. Your father arched an eyebrow at him.

“He has everything to do with the dead at sea, Bradley,” he replied softly. “Davy Jones is a powerful man. Not quite human, not quite god. He’s as cruel and unforgiving as the sea, and some even think he was born from the waves that beat against the rocks by the shore. They say his very will controls the tides, and any man foolish enough to invoke his wrath is met with a gruesome fate.”

“Those are just superstitions,” Bradley countered with a scowl.

“You’re free to believe that,” your father began, “but you’d be a fool to. No sailor with a lick of sense is going to take that chance. Davy Jones will come for us all.”

“Why does Davy Jones stay at sea, Papa?” you chirped.

“No one is quite sure,” your father mused. “Perhaps he’s searching for treasure.”

“Would you ever go looking for treasure?” you questioned. Your father smiled.

“I’ve already found my treasure,” he said, casting a fond smile to your mother, who blushed under his gaze.

“Have you ever seen Davy Jones?” you prodded with wide eyes. Your father chuckled, patting your head in reassurance.

“No, little minnow. But those who have are few and far in between. Davy Jones isn’t in the business of letting witnesses stay alive.”

“That’s enough, Maverick,” your mother had chided. Your father had the good sense to look sheepish. Maverick was a name your father had earned during his time at sea, and your mother only called him that when she was cross. Usually, she called him by his given name; Peter or Pete.

“My apologies, Penny, my dear,” he said. Looking back down at you, he offered a smile. “Alright, y/n, it’s time for bed. You too, Bradley. I need you up bright and early tomorrow morning.”

You and Bradley bid your mother goodnight as your father followed you down the hall. When you had crawled under your blanket, he had made sure to tuck you in tight.

“I didn’t scare you too bad, did I, little minnow?” he asked. You shook your head vehemently.

“No, Papa. But, what if you meet Davy Jones one day?”

“That won’t be for a good, long while, sweetheart,” he said with a smile. You nodded, resting your head back down onto your pillow. Your father leaned over to peck your forehead before standing to walk out the door.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said. You smiled.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

A good, long while was not long enough in the end. It was six years later when you got the news that your father’s ship had gone down in a storm off the coast of the Caribbean. Your mother had been beside herself, crying all hours of the day as you and Bradley did your best to stay strong for her sake.

Bradley had caught you crying by the fireplace one night after you thought everyone had gone to bed. He sat next to you, and pulled you to his side as you cried into his shoulder.

“I miss him so much,” you sobbed.

“I know,” he said softly. “I do too.”

“He should be here.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “We didn’t even get to bury him.”

“I know, Guppy,” he sighed, hugging you tighter. Bradley wasn’t very good with words, and he sure as hell wasn’t good with emotions. “But he wouldn’t want us to dwell on this, you know that.”

“I know,” you sniffled, rubbing at your eyes. “He always loved the sea.”

“He loved being here, too,” Bradley countered. You looked up to see his own eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Your mother had followed your father not long after. She had stopped eating and barely took a sip when you begged her to drink some water. She would stay perched by the window in the bedroom she once shared with your father, just staring out at the sea as if willing him to return. It had ended up being a fever that had taken her one early, autumn morning. It was your turn to be inconsolable as you once again found yourself buried into Bradley’s shoulder as he held you tightly. You buried your mother on the hill that overlooked the sea, forever waiting for your father to return home.

You and Bradley had stayed by her grave until the sun began to set.

The following days were filled with familiar motions and quiet sobs hidden behind closed doors long after the stars began to shine in the night sky. One night, you had set a bowl of stew in front of Bradley after he had come home from working at the docks. The two of you sat in silence for a few more minutes before Bradley pulled you to your feet. You went to say something, but he motioned for you to be quiet as he pulled you through the front door and out of the house.

“Where are we going?” you hissed quietly.

“Just trust me,” he shot back, dragging you down to the beach. The cool sand rubbed against the soles of your feet as you followed him, and he stopped you when you both were standing at the edge of the water. The water felt like ice as it licked aginst your ankles, and you felt a shudder run up your spine.

“There!” he called out, gesturing towards the open sea. You looked, but saw nothing but the white caps of waves.

“I don’t see anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. Bradley offered you a smile.

“That’s because you aren’t looking hard enough,” he murmured. He bent down, pointing his finger so that it was directly in your line of sight. “There, do you see it now?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see what it was he was looking at. “Rooster, I don’t-”

“I see them,” he interrupted you, smiling confidantly. You fixed him with a puzzled look. “I see Mav and Penny just over there past the waves.”

Your heart stopped and hot tears licked at your eyes as you looked back at the churning waters. It was then that you saw what Bradley had been talking about. You saw your mother and your father with smiles on their faces, staring at each other with adoration clear as day on their faces. You wiped the tears away from your eyes as you looked back to see them waving at you. You huffed a laugh and smiled back at them with a wave of your own.

“Looks like Davy Jones let Mav come back for his treasure,” Bradley said. You threw yourself into his arms, holding him tightly.

“Thank you, Bradley.”

The sea could be cold and cruel, but you had the strength to weather the storm.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

CONGRATS ON 1.5K JESS!!! 🥳🥳 i'm literally obsessed with the moodboard + drabble you did for eugene and violet....could we get josephine/nixon plus "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway" ?? moodboard or fic, whatever you're feeling :) <33

Thank you so much for your ask lovely. It’s been so long since I made anything for Josie and Lewis so this one was a real treat.

The night was still and quiet when Josie crept from her bed, making her way over to the small window in the hallway. She peaked through the tapped up panes, wishing she could have a clearer view of the nights sky. The moon shone brightly over the sleepy town of Aldbourne tonight. There was no movement outside meaning the streets were unusually quiet, not even one drunken paratrooper returning to his billet.

Tomorrow was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life, and she truly couldn’t wait to become Mrs Nixon, but something kept her awake. It was a gnawing feeling in her stomach that just wouldn’t settle, and the more she thought about different scenarios of everything going wrong, the worse the feeling grew. Would Lewis really be at the alter tomorrow or would he have second thoughts? That was the worry that currently occupied her mind. Of course her friends had assured her that wouldn’t be the case, and Dick and Eugene were under strict instructions to have him at the church on time.

Josie sighed loudly, jumping at the light chuckle that came from behind her. She whipped around, tugging her dressing gown over herself quickly as she came face to face with the finger leaning against the door frame.

“Lewis, you scared me!” She scolded, raising her hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly from the sudden shock.

He smirked at her, sauntering over and placing his hands on her shoulders, “Sorry Josie,” he mumbled, placing a kiss to her cheek. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” she shrugged sadly, “I have too much to think about.”

“Not having second thoughts I hope,” he laughed, but Josie could see the concern floating in his brown eyes, the soft crinkle on his forehead making her smile.

“Not at all. I just… well I’m just worried that everything won’t go to plan,” she admitted, biting her lip sheepishly. “I keep worrying that you’ll change your mind”.

Lewis smiled, brushing the loose strands of dark hair away from her face. “I could never change my mind, Josie. I love you and I can’t wait to marry you.”

He bent down to kiss her, savouring the soft feeling of her lips against his until she pulled away.

“You haven’t had a drink?” She asked, it felt strange to not have the familiar taste of VAT-69 on her lips after kissing Lewis.

“Not a drop, I want to make sure I was up bright and early in the morning ready for our big day. Thought I might even surprise Dick and get up before he does,” he chuckled, “Although that’s probably why I can’t fall asleep.”

Josie smiled up at him, cupping his stubbly cheek in her small hand, “It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway either,” she assured him, pressing her lips to his once more. “And I don’t mind spending some quiet time together before the chaos of tomorrow.”

Lewis hummed in appreciation, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and turning her so they could both face the window, looking out into the night. The sun would soon beginto rise over the tree line, bringing forth a new day, the biggest day of Josie’s life and she couldn’t wait. But in the cover of darkness she could relish in the comforting feeling of Lewis’ arms, his breath tickling her ear as he promised her that everything would be alright.

Tags: @georgieluz @mads-weasley @samwinchesterslostshoe @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @xxluckystrike @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsenthal @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @1waveshortofashipwreck @sweetxvanixlla

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Part One

genre: fluff & Christmas to begin with; angst, catharsis, with healing later...and as always, love❤️💚

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC), established relationship

word count: approximately 3.1k

moodboard by the very generous @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

Stephen should have known that he had fallen in love with a Christmas person. Should have been prepared for what was in store for him come late November. Hope's enthusiasm for all things Yuletide was exactly in keeping with her nature--and of course, she had no way of knowing that when it came to Christmastime, his past had shaped him into a bit of a Grinch.

A week or so before Thanksgiving, she'd brought a mysterious shopping bag to the Sanctum and set it discretely in a corner of the living room portion of his suite. When he'd asked what was inside, she'd flashed him a pert smile and smiling eyes as she answered, "Darling, that's for me to know, and you to find out. Eventually." Then sashayed away, humming 'Good King Wenceslas'. Yup, he should've known then that Hope was...was very much a Who.

They had shared a quiet, homey Thanksgiving; Hope had eagerly prepared a little feast for them, along with far too many desserts prepped in a flurry of baking in the 48 hours ahead of time. "There's supposed to be an abundance of leftovers," she had insisted when Stephen groused that they could never finish it all, "And in my family tradition, the freezer was always stuffed with packages of turkey, potatoes, and what have you--enough for a meal a week 'til nearly Christmas." And she'd relished the sight of him digging into those leftovers--along with a healthy serving of her apple-ginger pie--as a midnight snack, looking every bit the adorable 'told ya so' when she grabbed a fork to help him polish off the pie.

When they'd finally settled into bed and snuggled close, Stephen was happy to tell Hope it had been his best Thanksgiving in decades--and that perhaps it could be the start of traditions of their own. "Good," she replied, kissing his neck and then resting her head on his shoulder, "There's more I'd love to share with you. If you don't mind...starting tomorrow."

Stephen's own family traditions always felt like dusty, ancient history now; memories he seldom allowed himself to dwell upon for the heartbreak of the losses of his sister Donna, and later his mother Beverly, who had never fully recovered emotionally from Donna's death. He sighed hard, not wishing to spoil the moment, but feeling he should give his love fair warning. "If it's Christmas related, Hope--I'm really not that guy..."

"Oh, Stephen..." she started to protest.

"I don't wanna disappoint you, honey, but I...I gave up Christmas a loooong time ago..."

"Gave up Christmas?" Hope tutted. "You don't strike me as a Scrooge..."

"I'm not. Of course I'm not," he countered gently, "There's just a lot of...baggage...that I gave up carrying. Decades ago." For my own peace of mind, he thought but didn't add. "I mean, I'll be happy to see how you embrace the season, Hope, but um..."

He felt more than heard her sigh, understanding that she would not be deterred--while well aware that as ever, whatever form her persuasion would take would be gentle. Patient. Quiet. Stephen couldn't help but love that about her.

"Alright," she told him, laying her palm above his heart, which he always found soothing. "I promise to be mindful of your...baggage...if you help me with just one tradition tomorrow."

Stephen's turn to quietly sigh with his intent to cooperate, "Just the one? Seems a fair bargain to make...if you can stick to it."

"Just the one--I promise," Hope laughed softly, "And after that, well...I'll go about my Christmasing without the sort of fuss that might bother you."

Though he could practically feel the wheels in her head turning to come up with a way to change his view of the season, he chuckled, "It's a deal then. So what will we be doing tomorrow?"

"Getting a tree, of course. That's my mom's thing. Tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving...and comes down on New Years Day. Although, since I've been on my own, I keep it up however long I want. It's an excellent remedy for the mid-winter doldrums."

"A tree it'll be, then," he promised, reaching to turn off his bedside lamp, "And then I'm out."

"Like a light", Hope assured him. "Now, do you wanna be the big spoon or little spoon tonight?"

"Big," he replied, flipping onto his side, then sliding his arm around her waist when she turned to fit herself against him. Stephen brushed his lips on her ear, "For what it's worth, honey, I hope you have some sugar plum dreams tonight."

"Thanks, Stephen," she murmured, clearly on her way to sleep, "Love you too."

By the time Hope awoke the next morning, Stephen had already worked out a plan to keep his promise. One which would involve him in as little Christmas fuss as possible. A quick online search had yielded a few spots in the Village itself where they could find fresh cut trees. After breakfast, he discreetly portaled the two of them to a side street off of Hudson Street, where they found a popular Christmas market adjacent to a city park.

Hope had been so delighted by his initiative that he had felt it necessary to remind her that this would be his sole contribution to the Christmas decorating. She had batted her eyes prettily with her reply, "As you wish," but to Stephen, it had felt more like she was saying, "We'll see about that."

They settled on a seven foot Balsam fir, which Stephen had insisted on paying for out of his Sanctum Master's monthly stipend. The warmth of the lingering kiss she pressed to his cheek in thanks was absolutely worth that investment, and Hope's happiness was a gift that thoroughly warmed his heart. Being quite pleased by how swiftly they'd accomplished their chore--and surprised that the task felt far more pleasant than he'd anticipated--Stephen arranged to have the tree delivered to Bleecker Street by mid-afternoon.

Hope had wandered over to a group of stalls featuring hand-crafted Christmas decorations, and by the time he joined her, she had a small brown shopping bag in hand. He offered her his arm, "Shall we?"

"Shall we what," she countered impishly.

"Head back home."

"Oh...well...", she bit her lip, mulling over her answer for a few moments, "You go on ahead, darling. There's just a few more things I'd like to pick up..."

Stephen hummed, studying her face for any sign that this was a coy play to get him to stay after all. Seeing only sincerity, he found himself offering to stick around anyway. "Thanks, but no, Stephen," she assured him, "I shouldn't be too long--and I did promise not to bother you beyond the tree. You won't even have time to miss me; I'm sure I'll get there before the tree even does."

Stephen hadn't expected her to be so easily accommodated. "Are you sure, honey? I can spare a while longer if...if you'd like me to."

Hope moved in close, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed his other cheek. "I appreciate the offer, darling," she husked, "But how about you get a nice fire going in the hearth in your quarters, so they'll be all toasty for when I decorate the tree this afternoon?" She backed away and beamed him a smile, then turned to explore the market further without a further word.

Stephen stood on the sidewalk, the relief at being let off the expected Christmas hook colored with the surprising disappointment that Hope hadn't even tried to ask for more beyond her promise. She's probably got other plans in mind, he decided; bet she's just softening me up for that. Hands tucked deep into his coat pockets against the growing chill in the air--they'd begun to ache in the way that told him snow was on the way--he headed back to the side street, and portaled back home.

The snow arrived before Hope did, with the tree being delivered about a half-hour later. By then, Stephen had a crackling fire going in the hearth and had even used magic to set up a tree stand before one of the front windows of the living room.

Rosy-cheeked from the cold and bearing two Balsam wreaths decked with red ribbons, sprigs of holly & berries, and mini white lights, Hope appeared to be the embodiment of Christmas cheer. "I figured now that it's no secret that a magical building is part of the neighborhood," she explained in answer to the question in his eyes, "You'd at least want the Sanctum to look a little festive..."

Stephen gave a heavy sigh as he conceded that point to her. And though she didn't ask, he cast a spell to keep the wreaths in place on the Sanctum's double doors, with reinforcement to keep them fresh and green for however long they hung there. He would go on to use the same spell for the Christmas tree awaiting decorating in his quarters.

After lunch, Hope practically shooed Stephen from the room when she began to string lights on the fragrant evergreen. With a vintage selection of Christmas carols playing in the background, she was determined to keep her promise to him. "Besides, I'd like to surprise you with the ornaments I've picked. So go keep busy with whatever wizarding stuff is on your agenda, and I'll come get you for the big reveal."

Lazy snowflakes continued to fall well past dusk, looking pretty and perfectly seasonal outside the Sanctum windows, though little stuck to the streets and pavements. Hope had finally popped her head past the door to his study several hours after she'd sent him away and invited Stephen to come check out the product of her efforts. Her excitement felt contagious--and once he spied the tree, Stephen knew she had good reason for her enthusiasm.

She had dimmed the lights for maximum effect, showing off the slow, steady twinkle of the white lights that graced every branch of the tree. The ornaments were a mix of dark blue and gold bells and balls, variously sized, and many of them sprinkled with golden glitter. Featured among them were larger, glassblown ornaments shaped as suns, moons, and stars, as well as other traditional celestial symbols. The total effect was breathtaking--and a telling reminder that Hope was an Artist, deep down to her soul.

Watching him take in the full picture, her eyes sparkled with joyful anticipation of his response. Stephen's jaw had dropped, and he remained speechless as he circled the tree before he came to stand at Hope's side, pulling her to him with one arm around her back. "This is...marvelous, honey. Fantastic. Beautiful...and...and..."

"And nearly perfect for a Master of the Mystic Arts," she replied, a slight tremor in her voice, "Don't you think so, anyway?

Stephen nodded and laid a kiss on top of her head. "I can't imagine anything more perfect, Hope," he agreed, his voice grown thick with emotion. "You were planning this for a while, weren't you?"

"Only since mid-September," she laughed, then pointed to a stained-glass disk depicting the zodiac circling a stylized sun. "I saw that one at a craft fair, and it just sort of...inspired...the whole thing."

"I should've expected something this..." Stephen searched for the perfect word to describe not only the tree, but the sentiment her gift had him feeling, "...grand...from you, honey. Grand. Grand and perfect."

"It's actually a little short of perfect, Stephen," she confessed difidently.

"No, Hope...honey...it's perfect for me," he insisted, "Both as a wizard and as a man."

"I don't mean in that way, darling. It's...it's unfinished," she sighed, motioning to the crowning branch. "It's in want of a star."

"Aaaaaaah." Stephen let the moment linger before smirking, "And is that by design, or just something you overlooked?"

"I just can't reach it," came her plaintive, honest reply.

"I see." Stephen could feel how hard she was trying not to ask for his help, in light of her promise to him. How dear that was to him! A simple yet lovely truth about this woman he loved. How could he not offer to help? "You know, I wouldn't mind adding the finishing touch, honey. If you'd allow me to, of course."

"I suppose that'll be alright, darling. If you wouldn't mind too terribly."

"Not at all," he told her, truthfully. "Do you have one, or shall I conjure something to match your theme?"

"Hold on," she replied, making a beeline to a dark pink box perched on the side table by the sofa. Hope removed an object swathed in tissue paper, unwrapping it very gingerly when she returned to his side. "This star is over a hundred years old. It came to America with my great-grandmother when she arrived from Ireland back in 1921. It passes to the eldest daughter in each generation..."

"And you're the lucky winner," Stephen observed in a hushed tone, immediately adopting the same reverence with which Hope handled the fragile antique.

"Yes," she sniffled softly. "Mom was the middle child, but her older sister didn't have any girls, so when she passed, it came to me. That was during The Snap years. Once she came back, my mother never really recovered from finding out her sister had died alone, without the comfort of family near."

Stephen's first thought was of his mother, Beverly, and of the colorless Christmases between Donna's death and her own. In the face of Hope's bittersweet revelation, he couldn't bring himself to express his observation; that grief had been his mother's cause of death as well.

Hope took note of the pain that briefly flickered across his features. "Stephen, are you alright? You looked so sad, all of a sudden."

"Oh, honey, I'm just...just so, so sorry for your loss. I know that grief doesn't take holidays, and there are times it hits so hard, it feels like the one we've lost...that it only happened yesterday." Mindful of the crystal star in his hands, he drew Hope into his arms, then rested his chin atop her head. "But the best comfort, I'm told, is remembering the best of times you shared with them."

The smallest voice in his head gave an ironic retort. Doctor, why don't you take your own advice and heal yourself for a change? Share your story with Hope, and by doing so, maybe you can put your own ghosts to rest.

Maybe so, he told himself. But not now; not tonight. I'm not ready to face that kind of pain just yet. And the small voice answered: of course you aren't. It seems you never are.

Stephen shook off that moment of weakness--as he always did. And with the gentlest charm he could manage, he floated Hope's star to the top of the tree and fixed it safely in place. That drew from Hope her prettiest smile, so that he dared a change of subject. "Well, in light of the heavy lifting I've just done, I think it's time we fix ourselves some turkey and gravy sandwiches and maybe watch 'The Grinch'. It's one of the few Christmas movies I actually enjoy."

"Jim Carey or the DreamWorks one," Hope asked as they headed, arm in arm, toward the closer of the two Sanctum kitchens.

"Jim Carey," he asserted with a grin, "The other is far too sentimental for my liking."

[to be continued🎄]

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist

tagging: @strangelock221b @mousedetective @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @ben-locked @hithertoundreamtof23 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @lorelei-lee @stewardofningishzida @thelostsmiles @mrs-cookie @paperclippedmime @groovyqueer

[camaro-and-smokes]

Little Bird Starts Nesting

Chapter 3: Morning after

Tags etc for this chapter: no warnings, domestic Harringrove, mentions of pregnancy

Author notes: Can you believe it: a new chapter after almost 8 months?! I didn't abandon this story (or any of the others), I was just hit by a burnout last year and I've just started to get better over the last few months. So, I guess there was that to be figured out first than continuing fics... But I'm more than excited to get back on track with the longer ones now! I know the chapter is short, hope you don't mind. I'll get to longer ones, just you wait 💜 Moodboard by the lovely @a-redharlequin 💜

Summary: Even though there's the weight of the news from the night before, Billy takes solace in the morning routines.

Read in full on AO3 >>

::::::::::

Billy's eyes snapped open at the assault of his alarm clock's relentless blaring, a sound that seemed to drill straight into his skull. "Fucking thing," he muttered, flinging an arm out to slap it off with more force than was probably necessary. He stretched languidly, tendons stretching and joints popping in protest. Suddenly, he hoped he wouldn't hurt himself while stretching. God, I'm getting old when I worry about that, he thought, chuckling.

He reached out his hand on Steve's side to run his fingers through Steve's hair and wake him up by kissing him silly, but found nothing but an empty pillow there.

He sat up, raking fingers through his hair, and scanned the confines of their room for signs of what Steve was up to. The room was under the gentle chaos of lived-in space, but Billy could tell from small signs a lot. Steve's clothes from yesterday weren't in the laundry basket, but in a pile on the chair next to the closet. His watch was still on the dresser and Steve never forgot to put it on unless he had something else in his mind.

The news from yesterday raced back to his mind, which immediately explained why Steve was up already. He couldn't sleep whenever something was bothering him and the situation they were in surely would keep him awake.

Shit.

The weight of worry settled on Billy's shoulders as he dragged himself out of bed. He needed yet another kid related issue to stress about like a hole in the head but there it was, whether or not he liked it.

Continue reading on AO3 >>

[navybrat817]

Finding Home

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve finds a home with you. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Fluff, brief angst, mention of trauma, mention of explicit sexual content, canon divergent, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: It has been difficult finding time to write, but I felt compelled to share something sweet for our lumberjack. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was a quiet morning when Steve realized he fell in love with you. 

The sun rays warmed his skin as they filtered in through the window, beckoning him to open his eyes. By now he would normally be out for a run before he got to work, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed today. Not when the weight of your head settled gently on his chest. Not after you soothed him through another nightmare. He didn't have them often, but he kept you up because of them.

You deserved to rest. 

And he didn't want you to leave his arms.

"Steve," you whined, burrowing your face further into his chest when he brushed the pads of his fingers up and down your back. "Still tired."

A soft smile formed on his face as he repeated the motion. "Sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. 

You tilted your head up as you opened your eyes and brought a hand to his cheek. The sleepy expression on your face was one he witnessed before, but he swore he saw into his future as you smiled. What he saw was beautiful and hopeful.

It was everything he thought he wouldn't have before. 

"You okay?" you asked.

Those were the first words you ever said to him. 

No one asked if he needed the opportunity to adjust to being in modern time after being pulled from the ice. Or if he needed the chance to process the grief of losing those closest to him. He went back into the fight without taking the time to do so. Suffering in silence was the new normal for the man out of time.

Especially when he saw the memories of his life on display at the Smithsonian. 

He asked himself time after time why he went back there. Each visit reopened a wound inside that he never let heal. Each photo, recording, and piece of memorabilia cut deep. Tears shed in his mind as everyone saw pieces of his life he never gave permission to show.

Seeing the hologram of himself holding the shield, he wasn't sure who that man was anymore.

He thought he'd feel normal again after the reversal of the snap. Bucky and Sam were back. Natasha was alive. Things were the way they were supposed to be, but the shield felt heavy in his hand. Maybe it wasn't meant for him anymore.

"I need to find myself again."

Bucky understood. He was the one who encouraged him to clear his head for however long he needed. Sam did, too. He also told him that he couldn't imagine a world without Captain America. He looked surprised when the shield was put in his hand. If anyone was worthy of it, it was Sam. Nomad suited him best.

Because he had no home to call his own anymore. 

Steve booked himself a cabin outside of the city. He couldn't explain why he felt the urge to take a break from his drive, but the property he stopped at was breathtaking. The lush trees and soft breeze soothed him. He had to take a moment to appreciate the beauty. 

Guilt ate at him the longer he stood there because people needed him. Bucky and Sam said they'd call, but it didn't ease the weight on his shoulders. They were trying to adjust and he-

"You okay?"

Steve looked beside him at the sound of your voice. You stood on your cabin porch with concern etched on your face. He didn't realize he was standing so close to your porch. If you recognized him as Captain America, you didn't let it show.

The beauty of the scenery was nothing compared to the sight of you. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Am I trespassing?"

"Not unless you try to break into my place."

You both smiled. He wouldn't dare, but he did worry at the thought of you being out there alone. Unless you had someone nearby. 

The thought made him a bit jealous and he just met you.

"I really am asking though," you said, taking a step toward him. "Are you okay?" 

You were a stranger, but it felt wrong to lie at the sincerity in your eyes.

"No," he said before he could stop himself. "I don't think I am."

"Is there anything I can do?"

When was the last time someone offered him kindness with no strings attached?

He practically heard Bucky in his ear encouraging him to take a chance. 

"Could use a cup of coffee if you have any."

To his surprise, you agreed.

"Just to warn you," you looked over your shoulder as you turned toward the door. "I have an axe if you try anything funny."

You made him laugh when you winked, the first genuine laugh he could remember in years. 

You told him over coffee that you were a writer. As much as you loved the city, being away from the noise helped inspire your stories. You were easy to talk and listen to, a comforting presence in a world filled with fear and uncertainty. Even after he finished his drink, he found himself wanting to carry on a conversation. You didn't seem to be in a hurry for him to leave either. 

Bucky was proud that he asked you to meet him again. 

Natasha assured him that you had a clean background, even though he didn't ask for her to check. 

"Can't be too careful, Rogers, but she's good."

Dealing in a world of spies, it was nice to speak to someone who was honest. 

It became a routine to stop by and see you for coffee. He always did so with your permission. He noticed that you kept a couple of his favorite treats stocked up that he mentioned in passing. You paid attention, but didn't make a show of it. 

Steve never once felt invisible with you. 

He found the axe you referenced and chopped some firewood as a small thank you for your kindness. It was the least he could do and you were thankful that you didn't have to do it yourself.

"You know, Steve, with your beard and the flannel, you'd make a good looking lumberjack."

He took your words to heart. 

It was a risky job at times, but he was used to danger. The tasks put him at ease and it gave him a chance to use some of his strength. It brought him back to the memory of Clint's farm, but without the inner turmoil. 

When he told you he liked to draw, too, you smiled and encouraged him to keep doing it. You stressed that he needed a healthy outlet. The longer he was around you, the more he wanted to take his stress out on your amazing body. 

Oh, the chemistry was there from the beginning. He sensed it when he was close. The racing of your heart, your pupils dilating, and even the subtle change in your scent. He picked up on thanks to the serum.

But you were a friend first when he needed it most.

When he told you he was going on a mission, as Nomad, you didn't try to talk him out of it. You understood the need for him to keep fighting. You only asked if he could let you know he was okay. 

Everyone noticed a visible difference in him because he had someone to come home to.

"Bring me back something good?" you smiled when he returned to you. 

He almost missed when he attempted your first kiss. At the end of the day, he was still the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. And you were the one who stole his heart. He just didn't know it at the time.

People called him a hero, but you saved him. 

I think I loved you the moment I met you. 

"Steve? You okay?" you asked again, bringing him back to the present.

"I'm okay," he promised.

"I lost you for a second," you said, blinking more of the sleep from your eyes. "You didn't have another nightmare and not wake me, did you?"

He hated being the cause of you not getting enough rest, but you never complained. Whether it was talking or letting him use you, you'd rather stay awake and soothe him than let him face his demons alone. While many followed his lead, very few chose to walk beside him. 

"You didn't lose me," he answered. You never would. "And no more nightmares."

Thanks to you. 

He placed his hand over yours and imagined what it would feel like to have a ring on your finger. 

In time, he'd get you the perfect ring. 

You smiled before you glanced at the clock on the end table with wide eyes. "You're missing your run," you said. 

When you attempted to sit up, he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He smirked as he recalled the first time he used his strength on you. The way you chanted his name like a prayer and worshiped him like a god, it was the closest he'd get to heaven on earth. 

"We're staying here," he said, his lips brushing against yours as he caged you in. "That's an order."

"Are you ever not bossy?" you asked as he settled between your thighs. 

"You like it when I'm a little bossy," he reminded you. It always got a reaction out of you. "So stay here."

"You know what will happen if we stay here," you smirked as you rolled your hips up, causing him to groan. Your smirk fell away as your gaze softened. "But we can spend all day in bed as long as you're okay."

Steve traced his finger along your cheek, like he was drawing you on the sketchpad you bought for him. You constantly did thoughtful things for him. Seeing you like this, with the same sincerity in your eyes as the day you met, he couldn't waste another second. 

"I love you," he whispered. 

His finger stopped at your lips when you sharply inhaled, tracing them, before he pulled it away to kiss you. If you didn't say it back, it was okay. He would wait as long as he had to. 

"I love you, too."

You breathed the words into his mouth and everything felt right. He didn't do his run or get any work done that day. You didn't get a single word written. It didn't matter because Steve was a man in love. 

And Nomad found a home.

*****

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[summerofsnowflakes]

Graduation Night

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 20.5K (I cannot believe how long this is, sorry...)

Summary: Getting engaged is supposed to be a happy affair and with Bucky's family it is, for the most part. But before you can truly celebrate, you have to make it through the initiation.

Warnings: 18+ MDI, swearing, violence, bodily harm, blood, knives, knife play, smut, oral (f receiving), hints of a sub/dom relationship with Bucky and reader, pet names (Bucky refers to reader as Princess.)

A/n: I feel like I have been working on this fic for the longest time and I am so proud of it. I really hope you guys enjoy it!! Also I have tagged all the characters that appear in the story, they all have a significant role to play.

Here's the link to the moodboard for this fic!

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

3:03am

The thick, dusty air clogged your tormented lungs, each breath becoming more laboured as you pulled yourself upwards.

Dust irritated the open wounds on your body, small droplets of fresh blood dribbled down your chest.

You’d been so close to getting caught and you knew if Tony got his hands on you, you wouldn’t be lucky enough to escape another round of torture just yet.

You were crammed so tightly into the crawl space and yet. You strained your neck just to catch a glimpse of the lonely darkness that fell behind you.

Sticky cobwebs clung to your damp skin, tiny insects crawled over your exposed shoulders and nipped at your ankles. It made your stomach turn. You were in agony, every part of your body screamed at you to stop moving. It didn’t matter, you had to keep moving away from Tony’s office.

Stay alive!

It was the only thought echoing through your mind. It throbbed round and round in  your mind like a broken record, beating in time with your heavy heart.

The lack of oxygen in the small tunnel made your stomach turn, dizziness taunted you. Exhaustion threatened to pull you under its current and drag you back down into the arms of the people who would be all too thrilled to get their hands on you.

You had no idea where in the house you’d made it to, but you were getting closer to a dim orange light ahead.

You prayed to yourself that the inviting light up would bring some sort of safety, but you weren’t so naive anymore. You knew it was easier to prepare for the worst.

That way you couldn't be disappointed when the next member of the family tried to kill you; at this point you’d just be content to breathe clean air.

You crawled out of the tunnel, a mess of elbows and knees thudded against the damp exposed floorboards and flopped onto your back. A harsh breath ripped through your sore chest, sharp pains shot down your body.

The soft amber light was a painful contrast to the total darkness of the tunnel, your eyes clamped shut from overwhelming shock to your retinas. Speckles of dust settled in the corners of your eyes.

You laid against the floor, catching your breath when heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, coming out from the shadows to loom over you.

You froze, your breath faltered entirely, a dark figure shrouded the light that illuminated your closed lids. Reluctant to open your eyes yet, you heaved yourself up. A piercing pain shot through you as your broken ribs ground against one another.

Your irritated eyes fluttered open, immediately met with the sight of thick thighs covered by black suit trousers that you were well acquainted with.

Your gazed trailed up past his perfectly tailored suit, meeting his disgruntled pale blue eyes and taut stubble covered jaw.

“As much as I love seeing you in this position,” He grunted, his fingers wrapped around your upper arm and yanked you up from the floor.

You hissed at his roughness, usually you didn’t have a problem when he was rough, but right now it highlighted all the pain you were experiencing.

“I thought I told you to stay away from the attic, Princess.” Bucky snarled, throwing your body backwards into the structural beam. You remained silent, leaning against the beam to stay upright. He stomped towards you, fury burning in his eyes, confliction etched into his features. “You’ve given me no choice. I’m going to have to kill you now.”

9:30pm

Bucky Barnes was a wreck; he was on edge, skittish and highly strung. Any word similar to nervous would perfectly describe your fiancé.

He hadn’t managed to utter more than a few words to you all day. He’d barely looked at you, keeping at least two metres aways from you all day. Everywhere you went in the house, he’d made it his mission to be elsewhere.

When you’d been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him, he was visibly tense. Mustering up a pained grimace and something resembling guilt in his eyes.

Even when the car arrived to take you to Tony’s mansion he was acting particularly strange. He huddled up against the car door, leaving as much space between your bodies as humanly possible.

He was ghostly pale, his whole body steadily vibrating with anxiety. He fidgeted in his seat every thirty seconds, his hands alternating between rubbing his hands over his short stubble shaikly, or raking through his silky hair. He looked like he might jump out of the moving car at any given second.

You’d been engaged no more than thirty six hours when you received the invite for tonight from Tony and Steve. A gold encrusted piece of paper and a large gift box, filled with a beautiful white A-line dress with a tulle skirt.

Tonight was supposed to be a celebration with his family and yet, Bucky looked more nervous now, than he had moments before he got down on one knee. You’d met the family on multiple occasions over the past 18 months, been welcomed in with open arms.

You were privy to the business, Bucky had told you not long after you started dating and although it was a shock it didn’t bother you.

So it didn’t make any sense why he was more nervous now than he’d been the first time he’d introduced you.

You just couldn’t pinpoint a solid reason and Bucky looked like he was more likely to vomit on your pretty white dress than share his thoughts and feelings.

His whole demeanour had set the tone for the evening, you were feeding off of the energy he exuded. You didn’t dare ask him too many questions, terrified that there’d be a Bucky shaped hole in the door if you probed too hard.

When the car pulled up at the end of the long, secluded driveway, your breath caught in your throat. It always did, Tony and Steve’s house was magnificent.

From the clean off-white brick work, to the archaic water fountain, to the intricately carved stone pillars. It was a breathtaking sight. It resembled something straight out of the roman empire, or at least you imagined it did.

Bucky swiftly excited the car, throwing his door shut and leaving you alone for a matter of moments.You released a shaky breath, your shoulders sagged.

This should be a time of pure excitement. You’d just gotten engaged to the love of your life, but his frightful energy made your stomach bubble, your fingers tingle and your heart race unevenly.

Another beat of silence passed with you making no attempts to move from the backseat, worry held you firmly strapped in against the expensive leather chair.

Bucky reappeared at your side of the car just as your mind was descending into a complete spiral. He opened the door for you carefully, offering you his hand.

It was the first sign of love that he’d offered up to you all day, it instantly melted away the worry that was building in your chest. You smiled up at him, slipping your hand into his and allowed him to pull you out of the car. Your heart swelled in your chest as the ring sparkled brightly under the night’s sky.

When you were safely out of the car he tried to pull his hand away from yours, but you tightened your grip.

“Where you running off to Barnes?” You chuckled nervously, attempting to ease his tension.

It didn’t work.

“Sorry, princess.” Bucky grumbled, staring intently at the steady stream shooting out of the water fountain.

The closer you got to the mansion, the smaller Bucky’s steps became. He was dawdling, trying desperately to keep you from entering the house. It took nearly ten full minutes to walk from the car to the front door.

Bucky’s free hand hovered over the door handle. One side of his brain willing him to open it, the other screaming at him to haul you over his shoulder and make a run for it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tuning into the soft circled you rubbed into his flesh. When he opened his eyes again, he turned away from the door facing you.

His heart almost gave out on him as he finally took in your appearance. He’d been so consumed by his own anxiety that he hadn’t noticed how perfect you looked in your dress.

Tony had an eye for picking out the perfect dress. He licked his lips involuntarily as his eyes flitted from your face along your bare neck. He followed the thin spaghetti strap down to your corseted chest. It was a shame such a pretty dress would be totaled by the end of the night.

“You look…” He breathed heavily, running his hands up your arms gently awakening a trail of goosebumps. “Wow.”

Your eyes swept down to the floor, smiling bashfully, but his fingers caught your chin. He tipped your head upwards, the fear that had lived in his eyes momentarily replaced with adoration.

“How did I get so lucky?” He muttered, leaning in and placing a kiss to your willing lips.

You melted into his kiss right away, your hands pawing softly at his jacket lapels. His hands held your waist, losing himself in you and then suddenly his whole body stiffened.

He pulled away from your lips, completely breathless, pressing his forehead to yours and breathed in the sweet scent of your perfume.

“Princess, please know that whatever happens tonight-” his breath faltered, his lips quaking. “I just… I just need you to know that I love you so much.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as you peered up at him through your thick eyelashes. “What do you mean Buck?”

“I’m just really sorry.” He whispered.

You didn’t understand, you couldn’t pinpoint why he was acting like this. You felt the dread settling in your stomach but you pushed it down and ignored it. One of you had to remain calm.

“James Barnes, I think you’re being a complete drama queen. I’ve met your family a thousand times before, what could possibly be so scary about tonight?” You smiled, softly laughing.

You didn’t wait for him to respond, moving past him you opened the door and stepped into the foyer of the mansion.

“You’ve got no idea, Princess.” Bucky muttered under his breath.

The foyer of Tony and Steve’s home was equally as extravagant as the outside. You were certain you could fit your whole apartment into this room twice.

The luxuriousness of the outside of the house, didn’t do justice to the extravagance of the inside.

White marble was solid under your feet, your eyes overwhelmed by the white and gold wallpaper. Opposite the door stood the grand red stained oak staircase,each step covered with rich scarlett wool carpet.

It bled money and screamed opulence.

You closed the door behind you, practically having to force Bucky’s beefy form into the room.

Steve and Tony, your not-so-humble hosts, were on the stairs awaiting your arrival. Jarvis stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding a silver serving tray with four glasses of champagne.

You smiled up at them both, offering an over-excited wave as they descended the stairs down to your level.

They were a picture of polar opposites, Steve dressed in his signature navy suit, whilst Tony sported something resembling an expensive pair of burgundy silk pyjamas.

“Ahh the guests of honour have arrived!” Tony rejoiced, “it’s so wonderful to have you here.” He pulled you into a hug with surprising force. “Now let me see the rock!”

Tony didn’t give you a chance to respond, simply letting go of your body, he held your left hand out in the middle of the group, inspecting the ring.

“Could have gone bigger Barnes,” he jibed, shooting Bucky a playful wink, “but all in all very impressive. It suits you my dear.”

He took two of the champagne flutes from the tray Jarvis held, handing one to you and clinked the glasses together. He didn’t bother handing out the other two their drinks, far too seemingly wrapped up in eying up your form in the dress he’d picked out.

“You look like a bridal dream in that dress!” He mused, eyes raking over your form proudly once more. “Didn’t I pick out the perfect dress for her, Steve?”

It was an odd feeling, having someone talk about your appearance in front of you but as if you weren’t there at all. You felt over exposed, like you were standing naked on a podium being inspected by strangers.

“You always do.” Steve muttered, smiling warmly at you before offering you a welcoming hug.

“You look stunning, you really do.” He mumbled in your ear, regret teasing its way into his voice. His body was rigid and stiff, holding almost identical tension to Bucky.

“Thanks Steve, thank you for having us tonight too.” You smiled, gently falling back you leant against Bucky’s solid chest, enjoying the warmth he radiated as his arm snaked around your waist protectively.

“Nonsense! This is a right of passage in our family. Right boys?” Tony smirked.

Steve managed to plaster an artificial smile onto his, a simple yes slipping through gritted teeth.

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes piercing a burning at Tony. His arm tightened around you, squeezing the curve of your hip reassuringly.

Silence lingered in the air for another beat, Tony’s beady eyes analysed the pair of you. And then a wide, wicked smile spread across his lips. “Come, come! Everyone else has already arrived. No sense in keeping them waiting any longer.”

The dinner party was wonderful; you’d enjoyed a fabulous three course meal, made up of foods that you’d never even heard of and every bite tasted beautiful. Everyone around the table indulged themselves, with all the food and wine imaginable.

It really was a full family event, everyone had turned up to celebrate your engagement. Steve and Tony sat at either end of the table, their right hand men, Sam and Rhoady sitting to their left.

Natasha and Wanda sat to your left, joining in on the festivities when necessary but mostly kept to themselves as they always did. Whispering and giggling with one another, they resembled pre-school best friends. Thick as thieves and speaking an entirely different language to everyone else.

Thor and Loki, the family heads of midwest had travelled in to make a special appearance for the party. They were notorious for their brutality, they ran their faction with an iron fist. Tonight was the first time you’d met.

Peter sat opposite you, offering gentle, friendly smiles but mostly keeping to himself throughout the dinner.

He was originally meant to sit beside you according to the name cards on the table, but Bucky had seen to changing that immediately. He was firm in the position that he was staying by your side, no matter what.

Unlike the rest of the day, his presence beside you was comforting. He was always touching you; whether it was playing footsie carefully under the table, intertwining your fingertips or him rubbing soothing circles into your bare shoulders. He was always in the forefront of your mind, grounding you when things started to feel too intense.

There was a growing air of excitement buzzing through the family as the night moved on. Little comments and jokes were made as the family grew more intoxicated and loosely lipped. None of it made any sense to you, but that would come with time.

Tony’s staff made light work of collecting the last of the dessert plates, leaving the just eleven of you and your drinks around the beautifully carved mahogany table.

Tony watched you from the end of the table, swirling his scotch around in his crystal glass. He felt Steve’s eyes on him, begging him to leave the night as it was; Tony couldn’t do that, he was just sticking to his family’s traditions.

He stood up, the chair legs letting out a distressed screech and held his glass up to gain everyone’s attention.

“I’d like to propose a toast!” He announced, swaying slightly. “Thank you all for coming tonight, I think I speak for all of us when I say it’s been great to get together properly.”

He staggered from his chair and wedged himself between you and Bucky, forcing you apart.

“And my you my dear, we’re all enthralled by the news of your engagement to this grumpy old cat.”  He teased, patting Bucky on the shoulder with noticed force.

Laughs erupted around the table from everyone. Even Bucky cracked a smile, his eyes remained firmly on you as Tony spoke.

“Now, I hope you’ll forgive us all but before we can enjoy any more of the night, we’ve got some business to attend to that includes you.”

“Me?” You tore your gaze away from Bucky’s eyes and stared up at Tony with furrowed brows.

Tony nodded his head excitedly, “yes you. You see we’re ecstatic that you want to be a part of this family and we want to welcome you in with open arms.” He pushed himself off the table and circled the back of your chair, creeping slowly back to his own.

Your eyes followed him impatiently, he had you wrapped around his finger, waiting for more.

“But we are a family that has rules, traditions are very important to us and tonight you need to engage in one of said traditions. Think of it as an initiation of sorts.” He smiled wickedly in your direction, his eyes darkening in the most menacing way.

“Would you be so kind as to indulge us, my dear?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, everyone squashed up next to you with their overbearing smiles beating down on you, their eyes filled with manic enthusiasm.

The vultures had begun to circle you, their evil grins armed with missiles, ready to fire straight at you.

Your mind raced at what that could mean for you, you wanted to ask. The words teased your tongue but fear held you back. It felt like the heating had been geared up to two hundred degrees, like the heating was being supplied straight out of hell.

Bucky sensed the panic rising from your pores, he took your hand in his, offering it a gentle squeeze. He leant in and pressed his lips to your forehead, his other hand smoothing over the back of your head.

“It’s gonna be okay, Princess.” He whispered in your ear, the soft vibrations of his voice in your ear settled the rapid beat of your heart.

You took a deep breath, embarrassed by the way your body trembled nervously as you exhaled. You met Bucky’s encouraging eyes, the corners of your lips turning upwards.

“Of course I will.” You replied meekly.

“Wonderful!” Tony clapped his hands excitedly, “Now in the box that my husband has in his hands, holds the name of a game that we’d like to play tonight.”

Steve placed an eloquent but weathered looking, jewellery box in front of you. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to make any eye contact with you as he paced back to his seat solemnly.

You pulled the lid open, holding your breath as you reached inside, your fingertips brushing against the soft satin lining as you pulled a folded piece of paper out from the bottom of the box.

“Hide and Seek.” You read out loud, peering up from the unfolded paper and looking back around the group.

An inadvertent snicker slipped from Natasha, but Bucky’s fury burnt eyes shot in her direction and her wicked glee died immediately.

“Oh this is going to be so much fun!” Tony sang, “I’m sure this won’t be your first time playing, but we have a few rules to set out.”

You nodded at him, allowing him to continue speaking, “the game begins when the first bell rings throughout the estate and ends when that same bell rings twice.

‘In this game, you will be the one hiding whilst the rest of us try to find you. There will be one member of the family not trying to catch you, they will be allowed to intervene once during the game to assist you, should you need it.

‘Quite simply, don’t get caught and if you do get caught you must try to escape. There are a number of hidden passageways in our home and I’d suggest making use of as many of them as you can.

‘The aim of the game is to ensure you’re not brought back to this room before the game is over. If you’re brought back here, you lose and if you lose you won’t be able to marry Bucky. And that’s it. Those are the rules. Do you accept?”

You mind spun at the vast information you’d received in under a minute, you slumped back in your chair attempting to process everything.

If you lose you won’t be able to marry Bucky.

You were caught on that condition, this game had really high stakes and you stood to lose so much. It didn’t seem fair, having your soulmate potentially ripped away from you over a child’s game.

You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, you could play the game and lose or you could bow out and break both of your hearts right now. The section option wasn’t really something you’d ever consider, you had to at least try.

Bucky’s hand slid over your thigh over your dress and gently squeezed your flesh. You must've been quiet for far too long, Bucky was trying to pull you back into reality.

Your eyes flickered from the table to his face, you saw the guilt in his eyes. You watched the way he gulped down a shaky breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing unevenly.

“Whaddya say, Princess?”

“I’ll play,”

“Wonderful!” Tony cried, “A toast then! To the happy couple and a night of fun and games.”

“Cheers!” You downed your drink in one go in the name of dutch courage.

“Buck, why don’t you walk her out to the starting place?” Steve suggested softly.

Tony shot him harsh daggers from across the table. “It’ll give us a bit more time to work out where everyone will be situated for the game.” Steve continued trying to appease his husband.

Bucky sent a curt nod to Steve, standing up from the table, he offered you his hand. He led you out of the room and you stopped short, turning back to face the group before you exited.

“I hope not to see any of you until the game is over.”  You chuckled nervously and followed Bucky out of the room.

He led you down the hallway in the direction of the kitchen, his hand wrapped around yours in an iron grip. You almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. You entered the clinical looking kitchen, surprised to see it was a complete ghosttown, not a single staff member in sight.

You were truly alone with the family now, you’d agreed to this and there was no turning back. Bucky moved through the kitchen, not stopping for a moment, you had absolutely no idea where he was taking you.

“So… this why you’ve been so quiet and tense all day?” You asked softly, tugging on his hand.

A defeated sigh slipped past his lips as he nodded gently, not bothering to look back at you as he stomped into another hallway.

You were shocked coming out the other side of the kitchen, dust covered the peeling wallpaper, mould collected in pockets and spread out over every surface. The floorboard squelched under your feet, the damp smell stung your nostrils. It was like you’d stepped into another house, no sign of Tony’s signature grandeur style anywhere.

At the end of the hallway you came to an opening in the middle of the wall, where a silver door sat. Bucky opened the door, revealing a rickety looking serving hatch.

“This is probably the best place for you to start.”

“But Bucky, you’ll know where I am.” You chuckled lightly, the angelic sound rippled through the tense air. You spoke with a gentleness he’d never quite been able to replicate himself, it was one of the many reasons he loved you. He was desperate to keep hold of you for as long as possible.

He pulled your body into his, crushing you in his arms and pressed a kiss to your head. You were taken back by the sudden, almost fervent need to hold you, but relaxed into him nonetheless.

His head dipped into the crook of your neck, peppering chaste kisses against your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut as his nose and stubble brushed against the column of your neck. “I have a few rules of my own that I need you to follow.”

“Okay,” you gasped, stretching your neck and exposing more of yourself to him. You could hardly think with his lips moving against your skin, you almost forgot where you were.

“I need you to be vigilant and keep moving. Don’t stay in one place for too long if you can help it.” He pushed your body up against the wall, his lips and teeth trailing along your jawline. “When that bell sounds off, I can’t help you so you’ve got to do your best to stay hidden.”

He pulled back, meeting your doe-eyed expression. “James, you’re going a little overboard, it’s just a game.” You muttered, tucking a stray piece of his hair behind her ear.

“This is very serious, Princess.” He declared, a string of distress seeping into his tone. “You have your knife right?”

“Yeah I have it,” You muttered, placing his hand through the slit in your skirt. His fingertips ran over the leather strap that clung to your bare thigh, he pressed the cold metal blade into your skin. “Right here, just where you told me you want it kept.”

“This the holster I bought you for your birthday?” He asked, the hint of a dark grin dancing over his lips. You nodded slowly, mimicking the smile on his face.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, memories of your birthday weekend flitted through your mind. He had you tied to the bed for hours, wrists and ankles bound to the bedpost. He kept you completely naked except the black leather holster wrapped proudly on your thigh as he ate you out like a starved man.

“Atta girl.” He groaned, his fingers slipped up your leg, teasing the edge of your lace panties. “One more thing, and it’s the most important rule. Stay away from the attic. Can you do that for me, Princess?”

“Yeah I’ll do my best, Buck.” You smiled up at him, you tilted your head upwards, capturing his plump lips. He sighed into your mouth, moving his lips against yours. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his torso. You were trapped between the wall and his firm body.

You poured all your emotions into the kiss, hoping he could feel how much love you had for him. This was the most bittersweet kiss you’d ever shared. The possibility of everything ending tonight made you want to make this moment memorable even as it dampened the mood.

“Buck, I need you…” You whined against his lips, grinding your hips into his.

Bucky chuckled against your lips, kneading your ass softly. “We don’t have time, I need you to start moving.” You whispered against your lips, reluctantly dropping you down to the floor again.

His words offered sobriety to your mood, like a train running at full speed, hitting you. “I’m scared I can’t do this.”

“Listen to me, you’re a fighter.” His blue eyes stared into yours. “You’re going to win this, now you need to get going before I change my mind and whisk you away from this madness.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” You laughed as he helped you into the serving hatch. It was incredibly cramped trying to fit through the hole but you managed to get in, squashing the netting of your dress in every available space.

“I love you.” You both spoke at the same time, before offering him a final wave before he shut the door on you.

Bucky lent against the little metal door. His head fell back against the wall with a harsh thud, a sad sigh escaped his lips.

“I’m really sorry, Princess.” He muttered before walking slowly back the way he bought you in.

You sat for a moment, taking in the gravity of the situation once more, before you pulled on the rope and began to descend downwards towards the basement. About halfway down a shrill bell chimed throughout the house, a chill ran down your spin in time with noise.

The game finally begun.

12:23am

Just keep moving.

Those three words circled through your mind, it was your mantra as you descended down into the unknown. You passed two hatch doors that looked identical to the one you crawled into, but something in your gut told you to keep moving downward.

Bucky’s stern rules floated over your head in a thought bubble that troubled your mind. You held your breath the whole way down, your chest sucked in tightly as you anticipated the snap of the ropes tied that held your weight.

You pulled at the rope again and again, a roaring ache buzzed in your arm muscles, your hands were blistering against the rough rope.

You were relieved when you finally pulled the serving tray into its last stop. You pushed against the silver hatch open.

You so desperately wanted to pop your head out first to survey your surroundings. To be vigilant, but the space you were stuffed too far into a really small place. You’d only end up tumbling out and hitting the ground head first.

That would be an awful start to the game.

You stretched your leg out in front of you, legs moving through the space and you shimmed forwards until your tiptoes grazed the floor. You pulled the rest of your body through, your cramped up legs felt like jelly under your weight.

The first thing you noticed was the heat, it was stifling. Damp air attacked your exposed skin, little beads of sweat formed along your hairline.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, almost blinded by a sea of white bed linen hanging in the air. The washing lines strung out from wall to wall clutching onto the drab, humid walls.

The loud thrash of a hidden washing machine beat savagely against the floor. You jumped back against the wall, startled by the noise and clutched at the sticky walls.

You had turned into a wreck in a matter of moments, your nerves dialled up to ten. A shaky breath expelled from your lungs, your eyes fluttered shut as your heartbeat matched the erratic thump of the washing machine drum.

The familiar sound of expensive Italian soled shoes echoed through the hallway as the machine died down.

Shit.

You threw your body away from the wall, scrambling through the flurry of soft, damp sheets, hiding in the corner of the room. In your panic to hide, you’d left the serving hatch open.

The two sets of steps grew closer, but quieter. The machine chugged and spewed beside you. A fresh wave of hot air blew from the air vent, the sheets billowed around you softly.

You pressed your ear close to the damp cotton as your body quivered in fear and then the room fell completely silent.

The white sheet that shielded you was ripped from the wire line and before you stood Sam, his face offering nothing but dark emotion. You’d only seen this look on his face twice before and both times it was directed at his enemies.

“Hi, Princess.” He spat, a smirk forming on his lips as Bucky’s nickname passed his forked tongue. He stepped towards you, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. You followed his movement trying to keep a safe distance between your bodies but you were pressed against the wall.

“Sam, I-” You began but the words died before your brain could process them.

“Please, let me go.” You muttered so softly that it almost pierced through his icy heart. “Please, the game’s just started. I can’t lose yet. Please.”

“Oh Bucky was right, you do sound like an angel when you’re begging.” His smirk changed into a sadistic grin, his pearly white teeth bared to you. “Please keep going, I might just show some mercy.”

“You’re an ass.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at him. You pushed yourself off the wall, determined to make a run for it down the hall, but Sam was quicker than you. He anticipated your movements.

His large hand wrapped around your neck and he threw you back against the wall. You were pinned and gasping for air, Sam lifted you off the ground, his face inches from yours.

“I said beg.” He snarled, spit flew venomously over your face.

A string of words and syllables spluttered from your lips and Sam grinned once again. His hand loosened enough allowing a breath of oxygen to return to your lungs, but you remained suspended in the air in his fierce hold.

“You know, I really tried. Tried to be so nice because I just assumed you were one of the many he was using to get over-” his voice wavered, a sharp breath blew through gritted teeth.

His grip tightened around your neck again, he held you so firmly against the wall that were close to breaking through the plaster. “I don’t know how you did it!”

“Did what?” You choked, the lack of oxygen made your head pound. The blood rushing around your body thumped at with uneasy vigour.

“Tricked him into falling in love with you. I don’t know how you did but I know you did!” Sam’s chocolate brown eyes welled up, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. His head bowed, no longer able to keep his eyes on your face. “You must’ve tricked him, because there’s no way you could’ve replaced her so quickly otherwise.”

Confusion clouded your mind, you stopped fighting against him. You were only wasting the little breath you had by trying to pry your neck from his grasp.

“Who?” You pleaded, tears spilled down your cheeks, you mascara running with it.

“He hasn’t told you?” Sam’s eyes widened, his mouth agape. The tidal wave of shock that washed over him ebbed back immediately, a dark grin rested on his lips.

“You see, Princess.” He hissed, “a few years ago, almost exactly, Bucky brought my baby sister to a celebration just like this one. The day after they became engaged, just like you.”

His words echoed in your oxygen starved brain as you tried to make sense of the truth bomb. Bucky had never mentioned being engaged to someone else, let alone it being Sam’s sister.

Sam watched you closely as the information knocked you for six with a weighted blow to your heart. You looked up at him, seeing the enjoyment he got from inflicting pain on your heart.

“So you see, this game is a little bit more personal for me than the others.” He threw your body against the wall again, with more force. The force knocked the final molecules of air from your body and you went limp.

It was too painful to think any more, you allowed the pain to take hold of your body as Sam continued talking at you. “I can’t say I’m that surprised he didn’t tell you. After all, it was his fault that she was killed. I begged him to leave her alone, but what Bucky wants, he gets.”

His hand tapped your heavy, lulling head, “stay with me Princess. Got a few more truths to share with you before I kill you.”

“Sam… Please.” You muttered breathlessly, your hands lazily tried to pull his hand from your neck.

“Aw what a sweet little sound that is. Knew I could get you begging again.” He snarled.

“Sammy! Where did you run off?” Rhoady's voice reverberated throughout the swampy air as he closed in on you and Sam. “Not having all the fun without me, are you?”

The intrusion of Rhoady’s voice snapped Sam’s attention up, pulling him from his murderous rage. His hand dropped from your body and you fell to the floor in a gasping heap. Oxygen burned your lungs like cleaning alcohol trickling down your throat.

Sam turned on his heel, using his thick legs to shield your crumpled body from Rhoady. “Nah, I was just explaining a few things to Sarah’s replacement.”

“Sam, she’s basically passed out.” Rhoady raised his voice and your ears pricked up in hope that you may have some help thrown your way. “You know you can’t kill her in the first hour, Tony will have a fit.”

“I wasn’t going to kill her just yet.” Sam rolled his eyes at the other man, “but I want to be the one that does kill her.”

‘This is meant to be a fun night for the family, it's a bonding experience. A little bit of torture and blood spilled and if the prey dies, oh well.  The point is we all get to have our fun.”

Sam stepped forwards towering over Rhoady and bared his teeth. “And I was just in the middle of having my fun until you ruined it.”

“Choking her out in the first hour.” Rhoady drawled with squinted eyes. He didn’t back down or away from Sam’s anger, instead he leant forwards until they were a hair’s breadth apart. “This game wasn’t set up for your revenge fantasy man. I knew Steve shouldn’t have let you be a part of this one.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam seethed, his fists curling in jittery anger.

“We’ve all lost people to this game Sam. It’s not just you. I’m sorry about Sar-”

Sam cut Rhoady’s words off before they fully left his mouth, landing a swift bone crunching punch to his cheek. “Don’t you dare say her name!” He roared as a full on brawl broke out between them and they forgot that you lay on the floor.

Sam lunged forwards, tackling Rhoady by the stomach and launching them backwards through the maze of white linen. Grunts and punches were the only sound that filled the room now.

As long as those noises continued, you had a small window of opportunity to escape.

You had been reduced to a complete mess so easily and had only come up against one person. Your lungs burned, each breath hurt more than the last. The pulse of your blood pumping through your neck ached dully as your head pounded.

It would be so easy to remain here and let them win, but something deep within you told you to get back up. To run whilst you had the chance, you couldn’t miss it.

You pulled yourself up with a heavy sigh and pained breath. Your eyes flickered to where the two men had disappeared amongst the sheets, the sounds of their fighting had slowed but they were still going.

Run!

Your brain screamed at you and you listened, not caring that your heels were incredibly loud against the bare concrete floor. You ran out of the room and down the hallway away from them.

You ran as fast as your feet would take you. The only thing that mattered was to get away from Sam and Rhoady as fast as you could.

Your feet didn’t stop until you reached the end of the long hallway, met with a crossroads. You could go left or right, right took you to the staff quarters, left took you out to the garden.

Your eyes flickered from left to right and then to the left and once more to the right, until you heard their voices approaching the other end of the hall. You checked back over your shoulder, they weren’t in sight yet but you didn’t have long.

“We’re coming to find you, don’t worry Princess.” Sam called out menacingly.

You cast your eyes over the directions one more time before finally turning left towards the gardens. You could only hope that your dress had fallen out of sight before they’d entered the hallway.

For now, that didn’t matter, you just needed to find a new place to hide.

12:47am

The late November air stung your wheezing lungs with each sharp breath you took. Your feet ached more as they pounded against the uneven mud. The dark forest blurred your vision as you ran with determination.

You didn’t have time to focus on where you were headed, the gardens were just as large and extravagant as the house itself. It was terribly easy to get lost when you didn’t know where you were headed to begin with.

Sam’s words echoed through the woods as you sprinted forwards into the unknown.

Bucky had always preferred to keep some of his past private. He’d shared little pieces of his life before you met, but you knew you weren’t privy to everything and you accepted that. You had to earn the right to the family secrets, it was part and parcel of marrying into his lifestyle.

But Sarah seemed like a big and important part to miss out and her name had never been mentioned to you before tonight. It was even worse finding out from Sam as he was trying to kill you.

You were baffled that he could keep something that important from you. It only made you wonder what else he was hiding.

Lost deep within your own thoughts, with your vision completely impaired by the nighttime, you didn't notice the dip in the ground.

It happened so quickly, one moment you were upright and then you were tumbling headfirst, down into the darkness. You had nothing to stop your movement, to slow you down, nothing to reach out and grab onto. You were just falling.

Branches tried their best to grab ahold of you, but instead they kicked and punched your body. Leaves and moss stuck to the bodice of your dress, broken twigs ripped holes through your mesh skirt. Grass and dried mud bloodied your exposed skin.

It was never ending.

When you finally slowed down enough, you held your arms out and clawed at the dirt by your sides until you came to a clumsy stop.

You stopped at a clearing, your back flat against the ground as heavy breaths tore through you. The world above spun around, the bright stars above swirled in your vision. The night had only just begun and you already felt like it could get any worse.

You sighed deeply, pulling yourself up onto your wobbly feet. You dusted the dried mud from your ruined dress and carefully slipped your heels off your feet. They were a lost cause, one heel completely broken and the other was very loose.

You whipped around, surveying the dark area. You couldn’t make out much, but it felt familiar. You’d been to this part of the gardens before, only last time it was lit up but a myriad of fairy lights.

You stepped carefully back into the unwelcoming group of trees. Your ankles were weak underneath you, threatening to give out under your weight. You held onto the bark for support as you surveyed your surroundings. You noticed the tall, perfectly trimmed green hedges in front of you.

You had made it to the curved maze, Tony’s prize possession. It was a hundred metres long, with hedges sitting at eight foot tall. He managed to bring it up in conversation every single time you’d visited the mansion.

You’d only seen it in person once before and Bucky had made sure that you only remembered the blind spots.

He’d kissed you in all the hidden corners he could find, he’d made you cum with his head buried between your legs and your back thrown against the thorny bushes. You were covered in thorn cuts for a week, but it didn’t matter. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off one another that night, everything was so new and you’d been so sure of one another.

Everything felt so different now as you stared at the opening of the maze. The happy memories that resurfaced were conflicting. The thought of Bucky and the lies he’d told you hurt so much, you felt the crack in your heart.

You stepped towards the entrance with trepidation, holding your breath as you stepped over the threshold slowly.

You treaded carefully against the cold, damp soil, you ran your fingers along the sharp hedges. You were hoping to find that one spot that you’d shared with Bucky, but you were working on memory alone and your head still felt dizzy.

You hit a number of deadends, winding through the curvy hedges with deteriorating focus. The cold air wrapped you in a blanket of ice, your irritated skin felt hot to touch.

You were stuck, going round in circles but never getting closer to the middle or the exit. You had definitely hit the same dead end at least three times. You were completely losing hope.

“Fuck!” You huffed, throwing yourself back against the shrubbery and falling into a small hidden crack in between the thicket. It was a total accident but you’d found it.

You knew by the way your body slotted into the space so easily, it was perfect. You remembered thinking that last time.

You knew you couldn’t stay here too long, if someone didn’t find you, the elements would get to you instead. Wind whipped through the maze, carrying the sounds of a  melodic laugh to your ears.

Heavy footsteps stomped against the ground from the other side of the hedges. You inhaled sharply, your heart stopping. You peered carefully through the cracks in your green armour.

“Brother, we’ve been out here for an hour, if she were to venture this far out of the house don’t you think we would have seen her by now.” Thor reasoned, standing in front of your hidden figure.

“I thought you liked a challenge?” Loki mocked, bumping his brother’s shoulder softly and pushing him towards your hiding place. Your hand flew up covering your mouth and stopping any sounds from slipping through.

“Standing out in the cold all night isn’t a challenge, it’s boring.” Thor growled, his cold fists curled up angrily. “We could be inside with the others chasing the girl down.”

Loki stood facing his brother, offering a challenging look, but remained silent. It was too quiet, at least when they were speaking they weren’t listening out for you.

“And how do you know she’s definitely not out here?” A half smile appeared on Loki’s face, it was so dark you almost believed you imagined it.

A lump formed in your throat, it was difficult to breathe. He couldn’t possibly know where you were hiding, he couldn’t. Could he?

You’d been completely alone when you entered the maze. Hadn’t you?

His mischievous question made you uncertain about everything; it was exactly what he wanted. You’d heard the rumblings of Loki’s torturous ways, he loved to use is victim’s mind against them, pratically got off on it.

Thor and Loki scared you more than other members of the family, especially now you knew this wasn’t a mere child’s game.

You understood why Sam was involved in this, he was fuelled by rage and revenge. The brothers had no real stake in this game, they were here purely for the fun of the game and you weren’t exactly chomping at the bit to find out what they had in store for you.

Thor rolled his eyes, gesturing around him childishly, “we’ve been out here for an hour with no sign of her.”

Thor kicked at the ground, kicking his foot against Loki’s emerald green cane and knocking it from his hand.

An involuntary gasp slipped from your covered lips as the cane flew in the direction of the hedge. You weren’t certain how loud you’d been, you could only hope your hand provided enough sound proofing.

You stepped back away from the bushes, attempting to put a safer distance between you and them, but a leaf crunched under your bare feet.

You continued backward, your eyes glued to Loki’s face as he bent down to pick up his cane with an unmissable smirk resting on his lips. He stopped when he was at your eye level, searching for his prey through the gaps in the hedges.

You were staring right at one another, the dark glint in his light eyes told you he could see you.

“What is it Loki? What do you see?”

“Oh nothing.” He purred in response, breaking eye contact with you and straightening his back up slowly. “Just a little bird moving amongst the bushes.”

Your shoulders sagged with relief, maybe it was all in your head. “But I think it’d be prudent to give the maze a once over before heading back inside.”

Your breathing stuttered through the gaps in your fingertips. You didn’t wait to hear Thor’s response, jumping out of the hiding space, you retraced your steps from earlier avoiding the way back to the entrance as best as you could.

You turned left and ran down a winding pathway, then left again and ran down an identical curved path. You took a right halfway through that row, but it led to a dead end.

You were even more lost than before, only this time you were being hunted by two ruthless men. The air grew eerily quiet, nothing could be heard for miles, except the sound of your soft pants.

You poked your head out between the opening in the path, relieved to find it was still empty.

You followed the path to the end and took yet another left, it was the only option. You walked slower, back up in the direction you’d come from minutes ago, everything looked identical. It was impossible to know where you were.

At the end of the dirt track, you turned right and then left only to find another dead end. You stopped at the end, closing your eyes in defeat, your head dropped sullenly, you were never going to get out of this.

“It seems like you may be lost, little bird.” A dark, seductive voice called from behind you, your heart stopped. “Would you like some directions?”

“I’m okay actually.” You tried to think of a way out of this one, but there was none.

A merry laugh erupted from behind you, “silly girl, it wasn’t a question.”

Thor’s heavy footsteps charged towards you with Loki’s cane in his hand as you turned to face them. With a swift swing of his bulky arm, the cane collided with the side of your face. The sheer force of the hit knocked you unconscious. Loki caught your limp body in his arms.

“You oaf!” He seethed at his brother, “You nearly killed her! You could've ruined the fun completely.”

“Oh she’ll be fine.”

“Hand me my cane.” Loki sent him a glare.

Loki lowered your body to the floor with unusual care, resting you against the ground. He opened the gold crowned head of his staff and pulled a small vial of clear liquid out. He pinched your cold cheeks between his fingertips, parting your limp lips and poured the liquid down your throat.

“Pick her up, we’ve got work to do before she wakes up.” He ordered his brother, sauntering off towards the exit.

X———————————————————————————X

The soft sounds of the birds cooing their young to sleep was almost enough to trick you into believing you were safe.

The unforgiving breeze encased your body like an icy glove and shocked your brain back into consciousness. Your eyelids were heavy, hardly opened as your head lulled deliriously.

A razor-sharp pain seared through your head, your cheek throbbed. The pressure in your head was intense, the pain increased with each beat of your heart.

“It’s time to wake up, little bird.” Loki spoke sweetly, inches away from your face. Pieces of the night floated back to you in fragments; the maze, falling down, dinner with Bucky’s family, the initiation.

Oh no.

Your eyes finally open, your vision completely blurred. Lights on the ground below flooded the blur, a swarm of different colours formed hazy silhouettes before you. The figure of the person standing before you was the clearest thing you could make out.

Instinctively you tried to reach out and see with your fingertips, but your hands were constricted. Thick brown ropes encased your wrists and held them above your head. You were hanging in the air, failing helplessly, your arms burned from the stretch and tingled from the lack of blood pumping around them.

“Ahh she’s awake!” The same sultry voice called, “don’t worry little bird, your vision will return just a minor side effect of the drugs.”

“The what?!”

“I fear that my dear brother may have hit you a little too hard and mixed with the DMT, you may experience some hallucinations.” He continued speaking, ignoring your alarm. “But don’t worry, we’re right here to get you through it, little bird.” His thumb caressed your sore cheek carefully, it was almost as if he cared.

“You may even be feeling the effects up until the moment we kill you.” He pressed his nose against the base of your neck, breathing in your scent. Your hazy mind screamed for Bucky, this wasn’t him. Bucky wasn’t coming to save you, you had to save yourself.

The closeness of his mouth to your body made your stomach churn, a shiver rippled over your body violently. “Stop. Please.” You choked, turning your face away from him, it was useless.

You thrashed your body against the ropes and kicked your legs out at the man.

“Feisty little thing aren’t you?” He caught your ankle, chuckling menacingly. “Barnes is a lucky, lucky man. Well he was.”

The world came into focus rather suddenly, the colours still distorted from the drug. Loki’s face formed angelically before you, painted with flecks of green, gold and blue.

Your eyes flickered frantically around, taking in the rainbow coloured ruins you dangled in. You’d never seen this part of the estate before, it could have been a different property for all you knew. It was worlds away from Tony’s current style.

It looked like this used to be a house, but the white bricks were crumbling like limestone in rain, moss and ivy covered the walls that were still standing.

Even in its current state it was enchanting to look at, shame about the circumstances.

You tilted your head backwards, glancing up at the tree you were tied to. It was majestic looking, its branches spanned as high and as far as your eyes could see. It hugged the ruins like a protector, casting a reddish hue over the white stones.

Loki watched you with quiet admiration as you drank in the beautiful ruins of his parent’s resting place. He was perfectly content allowing you a moment of peace before he released his unrelenting wrath onto you.

Thor on the other hand was far more impatient, he strutted over you with purpose, a brutal smugness etched into his features.

You looked away from the tree, eyes flitting from one smirk to the other and scoffed loudly. “What’s the deal here then? The brains of the operation is the good cop and the brawn is the bad cop?”

“Careful girl. I won’t hesitate to slit your throat and leave your body to paint the fallen leaves with your spilled blood.” He spat at you angrily. “By the time Barnes’ finds you, the bugs will be festering off your flesh.”

It was a sobering comment, any fight in your body subdued by the mental image of Bucky finding you out here dead.

Your eyes searched for any sign of jest in him, but there was only cold blooded murder screaming from his dilated pupils. It was no joke, that could be your reality if you didn’t find a way to break free.

“Leaving her to be discovered the same way as the last one.” Loki’s laugh cut through the thick air, his long fingers wrapped around his brother’s shoulder and pulled him away from you. “Now that really would be evil, brother. I must say I’m impressed.”

“You’re not going to kill me.” The words came out of your mouth before your brain could stop them. It wasn't true, they’d kill you without hesitation if you pushed your luck too hard, but you were determined to remain calm and collected, on the outside at least. They wanted a scared little girl, they weren’t going to get it.

“And why is that?” Loki raised a questioning eyebrow at you.

“You’re Thor and Loki, your reputation precedes you. You’re not killers, you’re torturers.” The brothers shared a look, wickedness travelled between four eyes, no words exchanged. You’d hit the nail on the head.

“She’s a smart one, I like her.” Loki smiled, looking directly at you as he spoke to Thor.

“If by some miracle you survive tonight, we shall have a drink together.” Thor grinned, pointing at you.

The wind blew by you gently, the whole world surrounding you warped. The wind resembled water but you remained dry, dust from the ruins swirled around like specks of glitter glistening in the air waves.

You were so enthralled by the world that you barely noticed the moonlight bouncing off of a silver object pulled from Thor’s jacket pocket. He threw a large silver dagger through the air in your direction, cutting through the waves as it hurtled towards you.

Everything slowed down, you saw the knife too late. Your gasp seemed to suck up all the air around you as the cool blade skimmed your face. It sliced your unmarked cheek smoothly.

You breathed out sharply, hissing at the sharp contact. You tried to push down the pain that rose to your surface, but it was all too sudden.

“You missed.” You sneered, cold beads of blood trickled down from your cheek into your mouth, the metallic taste soured on your tongue.

Your words cut Thor as deeply as he’d cut your cheek. He stomped toward you in a fit of rage, his fist curled tightly and landed a gut wrenching blow to your stomach. You felt your ribs shake and threaten to shatter as the punch rippled through your insides like a tsunami.

“Clearly you don’t… like girls that talk b-back.” You wheezed, the wind had been stolen from your lungs.

His face was bright red with anger, he raised his fist again and pulled it back, but Loki’s voice stopped him. “That’s enough, get the other knives.”

Your head drooped sluggishly as Thor retreated but Loki stepped into your vision, smiling at you. ”We’re going to play a little game, little bird.”

He wandered towards you, pulling a gold tipped dagger from inside his long green coat. He ran the tip along the base of your neck. He tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I’m going to tell you the tale of how the tree you’re tied to came to be, all you’ll need to do is listen and avoid Thor’s knives.”

He traced the pointed edge along your jawline, up to tickle your earlobe and nicked your neck right beneath your ear.

“Oops,” he hummed, running his tongue along his bottom lip, his face offering no signs of sincerity. Loki ran the blade along your neck, over the curve of your shoulder and it hooked under your spaghetti strap. He pulled the knife backward, slicing through the fabric.

He pressed the knife into your shoulder, cutting you deeply. Your jaw tightened, but your eyes remained firmly on his, determined not to show him an ounce of your discomfort.

In your peripheral vision, Thor was juggling three blurred blobs. The sharp blades tore through layer after colourful layer of the air. Loki stepped back, as Thor stepped forwards, still juggling his knives.

You watched as he gauged his aim, squinting his eyes, he held the knife in your direction. He launched the knife straight in your direction just as he had with the first one.

Fear gripped your body, frozen like a statue while the first knife flew at you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could barely keep your eyes open. It missed for the most part, tearing a hole through your tulle skirt.

You studied Thor’s smirk, it was no accident that you remained unscathed. That was the foreplay.

Nostalgia fed Loki’s presence as he opened his mouth to speak, a distant longing in his eyes. “Many moons ago, before Thor or myself were born, our mother planted this very tree on the Stark estate.

‘It was only meant to grow twenty feet high, but there must’ve been some of our mother’s personal magic planted with it.

‘She had an affinity for nature you see, it was a joke among the old families that if she were to touch a dying plant it would repair itself overnight. No one could explain it, it was just magic.

‘The tree grew in every way possible, to this day it’s the largest tree on this estate. Our mother named this tree Yggdrasil, after the Norse tree of life. The mythological tree was a mighty ash, it was beautiful, perfect and by far the largest of all trees in the nine realms.”

Your eyes were trained on Thor as Loki recounted his tale. The blonde haired man readied his next knife, teasing you with a few pretend throws. Your fingers wrapped around the ropes holding your weight steady, ready for him to strike.

Loki paused as Thor threw the second knife, you pulled your body up, flinging your weight left as the knife went right.

The fall back down was so slow and yet the pain came on so quickly. A loud click rippled through the air as your limp body landed back in your original place. A cry escaped your lips, the rope pulling on your shoulder. You were certain you’d dislocated it.

Tears sprang from your eyes involuntarily as you groaned through the pain. Though your vision was blurred once again from tears that streamed from your eyes, you could see the satisfaction radiating off their bodies; you’d played into their hands perfectly, hurt yourself worse before either of them had had the chance to.

Loki paced behind his brother, continuing his story, “the tops of Yggdrasil's branches grew way above the sky, the roots deep into the underworld. It was even more fitting to have named this tree as such, because its roots grew so deep that it ruined the structural integrity of the quarters you stand in, well hover over. This building was brought to its knees because of the strength of this tree; bit of poetic justice for man versus nature.

‘The namesake tree was named the God's gallows because Odin hung himself on its branches so that he could become the all father. It’s where our father killed himself after the tragic death of our mother. He believed that if he died near one of her treasures he’d be reunited with her in the next life.”

Thor lined up his final knife and your head lulled desperately, you didn’t have the strength to move yourself again and the excruciating pain searing through your dislocated shoulder was the only thing you could truly focus on.

He launched the final knife, aiming straight for your stomach. Though it took your last ounce of energy you pulled your legs up to your stomach to protect your internal organs.

The metal blade sliced deeply into your ankle, cutting much deeper than any of the other lacerations you’d endured, but at least your stomach was intact. Blood spilled from the wound instantly as the knife clattered to the floor.

“Wh-w-why a-are you telling me all of this?” You trembled painfully, struggling to get your words out.

Loki glared at you intensely, watching as you struggled to hide the amount of pain you were in. He sauntered towards you, never taking his eyes off you, “well my Dear, Yggdrasil was known as the tree that connected all life forms for the vikings, but for our families it represents nothing but death.

‘And if I’m being honest, I have a tiny flair for the dramatic and just wanted to have you on the edge of your seat for the very moment I take your life.”

He raised his hand, his knife ready to strike you in the heart, just as a loud set of whistles tore through the silent air. His movements stilled instantly and all three of you looked up to the sky as four blood red fireworks exploded in the sky.

“Go and check on that.” Loki ordered Thor, nodding in the direction of the fireworks as another set went off. “And just when I was about to have my fun.” He muttered to himself more than to you.

Three whizzing fireworks went off in a different direction, much closer to the setting of your torture. These ones pulled Loki’s attention from you completely as he began to survey the darkness.

You did the same, noticing a shadow flicker behind the trees, closing in on you and Loki.

The excitement of the loud fireworks stopped abruptly and silence fell over the air. You could only hear your ragged breathing in the quiet, as you waited.

The sound of a gunshot rippled through the air in Loki’s direction, cutting the air in half; a howl erupted from his chest. The figure in the trees fumbled to their feet and ran towards you.

It was Peter.

A wild, worried look was etched into his features as he scanned your body. “Wow, that gun was a lot heavier than I expected. ” He muttered wildly, “I’m gonna get you down okay, just need to work out how.”

“Quickly.” You agreed. “Please!”

Loki cleared his throat from behind Peter, grabbing your attention. He was resting up against the ruined wall, a trail of blood on the floor from where he’d dragged his body.

Peter had managed to shoot him in the leg. You were sure it was a total accident and not where he was aiming at all, but he’d taken Loki out enough so that you could be freed.

“Have to say Parker, I’m impressed.” Loki sneered as he drew his knife from his pocket once more. You tensed, ready for the final strike, but it never came.

Instead he cut a long strip of cloth from his emerald coat and carefully wrapped it round his leg. “Honestly, didn’t think you had it in you to save her.”

Peter ignored Loki’s snarky comments as he followed the rope that held you in the air, finding the end tied around another tree.

“I’m gonna cut the rope okay, but I promise I’ll catch the rope before you fall.” Peter called out to you, you weren’t convinced he was going to catch you, but you had no choice but to believe him.

Peter sawed through the rope at an agonisingly slow pace until it finally snapped. You were falling fast but true to his word, Peter caught the rope before you hit the ground and lowered you down slowly.

“Whoa, I can’t believe I actually caught you in time!” Peter raced back over to you, “Are you okay?”

You searched his face frantically, checking for any signs of malice but you couldn’t find any. You pulled him into a bone crushing hug, “thank you.” You muttered, a few stray tears rolled over your cheeks.

“Just doing my job.” He hugged you back, rubbing his hands over your bare, ice cold arms carefully. “We gotta get you to a good hiding place.”

“If I may…” Loki interjected, “did you kill my brother? Just need to check whether I have to go to war with Stark after tonight or not.”

“I trapped him in a rope snare a couple yards west, he was still very much alive when I ran over here.” He replied, still holding onto you.

“C’mon, we need to go.” He urged, pulling you away from the ruins and back towards the mansion. Pure adrenaline surged for your veins, you couldn’t feel any of your injuries that you’d raked up.

“I thought it may be too early to intervene, but when I saw that they’d tied you up, I didn’t see a way for you to get out there on your own.”

‘Once we get back to the mansion you’ll be on your own for the night. I won’t be able to help again but you’ve faced the worst of them now.” You remained silent as Peter spoke, barely registering his words.

Peter let go of your wrist, stomping on ahead towards the house, but as it came into view fear struck your body, you couldn’t move. You weren’t going back in there.

You lent up against a tree, frozen in place as all your senses kicked back in. Your body burned in agony. Peter had walked another twenty metres ahead of you, muttering to himself quietly before he realised you were nowhere to be seen.

He ran back in your direction, “we gotta keep moving, it’s not safe out here for you.”

“I can’t… can’t go back in. My an-nkle.” You pointed down at your bleeding wound.

“Shit, I didn’t notice that before, Bucky’s gonna kill me.” Fear crept into his voice as he tried to remain calm for your sake. “Kay, I’m gonna rip some of your skirt and tie it round your ankle. That okay?”

You nodded frantically, your mouth unable to force any words past your lips. Peter pulled a small pocket knife from his pocket and cut through some of the tulle.

He gingerly wrapped the material round your ankle and tied it as tightly as he could. He mumbled an apology when you winced and grunted, fighting the urge to cry out in agony.

“You need to hide, we need to get you inside.”

“I can’t, I just wanna go home.” You cried quietly, falling back against the stump of the tree. “I can’t do this, i-i never asked for this. I just need to go to bed.”

“You’re gonna be okay.” Peter grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “I know it’s scary, you just get thrown into this shit without any warning. But I survived it and so can you.”

“I know it’s terrifying, but Bucky wouldn’t have asked you to marry him and brought you here tonight if he didn’t think you couldn’t handle it.” He encouraged, “you can do this.”

You laughed quietly at his words, wiping away your tears. The thought of Bucky at the moment brought conflicting feelings, you were dying to see him to have him comfort you but at the same time you were so incredibly angry with him.

You didn’t have time to work through that right now, the alarm in Peter’s features told you you were on borrowed time.

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I can do this.” You whispered quietly, encouraging yourself.

“Yes you can, now let’s go.” He wrapped his clammy fingertips around yours, making sure you stayed with him this time as he walked towards the dining room.

Peter pressed his forehead against the window pane of the dining room, he pushed the window open and poked his head into the room checking for signs of life.

“The coast is clear, I’m gonna give you a boost inside. Make sure you use the foot that’s not injured, you won’t be able to push off that one.”

You nodded, placing your dirty foot into his hands. You pushed off the ground as he lifted you off the ground with ease and pushed you up to the height of the window.

You grasped onto the window seal, your skirt engulfed Peter’s face, blinding him completely and he wobbled, falling backwards just as you pulled yourself into the room.

He followed your actions, pulling himself into the room, “sorry, your skirt got in the way and I lost my footing.”

“S’okay.”

He led you over to the bookcase in the far corner of the room, pulling it forwards and revealing a small compartment door. “Here’s your ticket to survival, there’s a tunnel system throughout the house. You should be able to hide in here for the rest of the night.”

A sweat broke out over your body as your teeth chattered slowly. “Thank you for all your help Peter.” You breathed shakily, pulling him into another tight hug before crawling into the tight tunnel.

“Good luck.” He replied, closing the door behind you and leaving you in the dark.

2:36am

The further you crawled through the tunnel the hotter you grew, but you felt colder, uncomfortable goosebumps rested on your skin.

This tunnel was a living nightmare filled with God knows what, dust flew down your windpipe and clogged your lungs with each break you took.

The hallucinations from the drugs had finally stopped so at least the darkness remained dark. However, your head still felt light and fuzzy and you knew you weren’t fully sober yet.

It was near impossible to pull your body up properly with one working arm. In the panic and rush to get in the crawl space, you had forgotten to ask Peter to reset your shoulder.

Your body was throbbing in time with your heartbeat, you could only pray that this night was almost over. You were already dreaming of the moment the second bell chimes and this whole night is over.

Despite your better judgement, you desperately wanted Bucky. You wanted him to wrap you up in his big protective arms and hold you till you fell asleep.

You were kidding yourself of course, you were ready to kill him after what he had thrown you into tonight. You were a mouse in a lion’s den.

You were crawling closer to a small light up ahead. The light was an unwelcome intrusion on your eyes, but it at least helped you see what was ahead.

After ten minutes of crawling upwards, you came to a crossroads in the tunnels. You were filled with a choice,  you could go left, right or up.

Peter had mentioned you could get around the majority of the house using the tunnel system, but you hadn’t expected so much choice along the way.

You took a moment to catch your breath, a searing pain shot down your abdomen. You inspected all three ways, using the limited light to gauge which way would work better for you.

Going sideways made the most sense for your aching body, you’d been pulling yourself up for ten minutes and you were completely exhausted. There was also a very large cobweb covering the tunnel that went up. Of course you’d been through worse tonight than spiders, but that wasn’t really the point.

You curled your body round the tunnel,  groaning as you moved to the right. Once you’d made it so you were moving that it was easier, slowly you crawled towards a light up ahead. At the end of the tunnel was an opened hatch, similar to the one you’d crawled into down in the dining room.

You peaked through the open door, checking to make sure the room on the other side was unoccupied.

The office you had found was decorated with ruby red wallpaper, with gold trimming. In front of you was a brown stained mahogany desk, on it sat an antique green oil lamp and gold framed photograph of Tony and Steve on their wedding day.

They weren’t looking at the camera, instead staring long into one another's eyes, smiles splitting their cheeks. Bucky and Sam stood at Steve’s side, with Rhoady beside Tony. Everyone looked so happy in the photo, you couldn’t help but smile.

Muffled voices rumbled outside the office and you scrambled to pull the hatch door back to its original place. The door swung open with force, crashing into the wall unapologetically.

“What's the real issue here Stevie? Because the door to my office isn’t the problem.” Tony mocked his husband, as he sauntered into his office behind Steve.

“I just think showboating your torture devices to the Nat and Wanda seems a little distasteful. This is a hard night for so many people, why do you need to act like this?”

“Ahh ha!” Tony’s loud exclamation tensed your muscles more. “So this is about Barnes.”

“And just how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Because it’s always about him.”

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

They continued to argue like children, shooting silly remarks back and forth. You held a scoff in, it made sense that they’d turned a child’s game into a potential homicide scene when they acted like this.

“This is about how barbaric this game gets. It grows more and more sadistic each time.” Steve pointed out, stopping the childish back and forth.

“Well, you didn’t seem too bothered about sadism, when you were mercilessly torturing Peter Parker…” Tony paused allowing Steve to interject but he remained silent, the air between them soured further. “So as I said, it’s about Barnes.”

“Don’t you think he’s been through enough?” Steve bellowed, “I had to deal with the aftermath of Sarah’s death, not You. I don’t think he’ll survive if she dies too!”

Tony slammed his fist onto the mahogany, “This is the only way to know she’s right for the family, it's the way it’s always worked. My father explained that to you years ago after your graduation night.”

Dust particles crept up your nose and you felt a sneeze building in your nose, but you held your fingers over your nose.

“Can you smell that?” Tony asked, sniffing around the room. Your eyes widened as you inched backwards, careful not to breathe too loud.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Sweet scents of vanilla and cherry blossom.” Tony paused, “our innocent little victim has been in my office.” Sinisticicm dripped from his lips, but you didn’t care to listen anymore, you were back at the crossroads.

You didn’t have time to think and went right, through the giant sticky cobweb and pulled your body upwards. You heard the hatch door creak open and Tony popped his head in to find that tunnel clean of dust. Clear evidence that you’d been there recently.

A glimmer of white fabric shone from the crossroad and he smiled to himself. “Looks like Barnes may be the one to end it all for his precious little princess anyway…” He muttered to himself, trying not to cackle evilly.

“What was that?” Steve asked, trying to hide his disdain towards his husband.

“I said, I’m going to head down to the dining room and wait for her to return. You coming with me?”

Steve shook his head, barely able to spare Tony a glance as he continued to mull over the night, worried for his best friend. “I need a breather, I'll be down shortly.” He replied, they both knew full well he was lying, he had no intention of joining in tonight.

3:10am

You threw your hands up helplessly, wheezing harshly, “wait… Bucky, p-please stop.” His hard shell faltered completely upon hearing the gentle way your voice broke. His blue eyes scanned over your battered and bruised body and he gritted his teeth, knowing this was all his fault.

It was the exhausted look on your face that truly broke him. He knew he couldn’t hurt you, when you’d clearly suffered so much tonight already.

He rushed towards you, ready to pull you into his arms but as soon as he got close enough, you raised your hand and slapped him full force across his cheek.

He grunted as your hand connected with his face. “That’s for letting me walk into this shitshow of a night, without so much as a hint of what was happening!”

He held his cheek, watching as you raised your other hand to him but he caught your wrist with his vibranium fingertips, stopping you hitting him again.

“You had one free slap Princess, you don’t get another.” He warned, holding you in place as he began to check over your wounds.

He knew from the slices on your skin that you’d been caught by Thor and Loki, they loved using knives. All of the wounds had stopped bleeding, except the one on your foot, you had bled through the thin material and it had been irritating the wound since Peter had tied it up.

“I’m gonna let you go so I can wrap that up properly,” he pointed down at your ankle. “No slapping.” He ordered, releasing your arm.

Slowly he undid the buttons on his white shirt, revealing his toned stomach. Your eyes flickered from his face to his chest and visibly gulped down the drool that threatened to spill from your mouth.

You tried to keep your face neutral, but you weren’t doing a very good job. “Like what you see, Princess?” He smirked, forcing your gaze back up to his smirking face.

“Fuck you.”

“That could be arranged.” He grinned, shrugging his shirt off and pulling his knife from his pocket. He cut through the fabric, cutting off the sleeve of the shirt.

He pushed your body backwards against the wall and dropped to his knees before you. He lifted your ankle from the ground and rested your foot on his thigh. He dipped his head down and pressed his lips against your soft, cold skin.

Your eyes fluttered closed as the sensation, it was heavenly having him on him after such a brutal night on your body.

He carefully unwrapped the material, whispering a soft, “I know baby, I’m sorry,” when you cried out, the material rubbing against the wound uncomfortably.

He wrapped his shirt sleeve around the wound, he tied it tighter than Peter had previously but the pressure felt good on the wound. He pressed another gentle kiss to your leg before standing before you.

He noticed the limp way your shoulder hung from the socket. “Going to need to reset your arm, okay?”

You knew it was coming, you were planning on doing it yourself when you’d found your next hiding place. It was probably easier this way, but it didn’t stop your stomach from dropping harshly, bile rising in your throat. You closed your eyes, releasing a shaky breath, nodding to him.

He wrapped both his hands around your wrist and slowly lifted your arm straight up to your chest.

Bucky studied your face, as your breathing evened out, he admired your beauty under all the mud and dust covering your body. He admired the tenacity you’d shown in the hours you had fought for your life and he was incredibly turned on by that fiery look that burned in your eyes when you slapped him.

You waited an eternity for him to guide your arm backwards into its socket. “On three, one-”

He didn’t count further, moving your arm back immediately and guiding the ball of your arm back into the shoulder socket.

“-two, three.”

“Fuck.” It was one of the worst pain’s you’d experienced all night, but at least you weren’t carrying dead weight anymore. “You’ve got some explaining to do Barnes.” You muttered, pulling your arm away and slowly rolling your shoulder back and forth.

Bucky sighed, hanging his head in shame, he wandered over to the attic window and looked out into the gardens.

“You want a drink?” He asked, not waiting for a response. Instead he poured out two glasses of Tony’s top shelf Scotch. He offered one of the glasses to you.

You stepped towards him, gingerly grabbing the glass from him and inhaled the flavour. You raised it to your lips, but stopped right as the liquid met your lips. “You haven’t spiked this right?”

Bucky laughed, falling back against the window and knocked back his whole glass in one go. “No princess, I’ve not spiked you.”

“Can’t blame me for checking.” You muttered, sipping on the brown liquor.

He allowed another beat to pass before finally opening his mouth to speak, walking back over to you. “I wasn’t allowed to warn you about tonight, believe me-”

“Who’s Sarah?”

You watched as the colour drained from his face. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Well, let’s see shall we? Sam dropped her name a few times, whilst he had his hands wrapped around my neck. He was trying to avenge the death of his baby sister.

‘Oh, and Thor mentioned her name in passing when he threatened to kill me in the same way she died.

“Steve let her name slip once too. So I suggest you start talking.” You poked your finger into his chest, pushing him backwards.

Anger bubbled and boiled inside of you, you were barely containing it. Hours of torture had led to this moment, you weren’t going to let Bucky off the hook no matter how good he looked without his shirt on.

Bucky moved towards you again, an apology teasing his tongue. You pulled your knife from its leather holster and held it to his neck. You dropped the glass of Scotch to the floor, the glass clattered against the floorboards, splashes of liquid clung to your bare legs.

“Still have the knife I gave you, I see.” He growled, a smirk teetering on his mouth. Pride swelled in his chest, he may not have been able to prepare you for the night by being honest, but you’d been listening to him.

The feel of the cool blade against his hot neck made his head spin. His chest tightened with anticipation, as his suit trousers grew tighter at the sight of you.

You looked powerful and sexy, despite your dishevelled appearance.

The metal blade dug harshly into his skin as he swallowed a breath, threatening to pierce his skin. “I’m sorry for not telling you about Sarah, it was wrong to leave you in the dark about her.

“I didn't have the words to speak them out loud to you, it was too hard. I still don’t have the words, but I’m gonna try because you deserve that.” His eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

‘Sarah and I were together for a year before I asked her to marry me. Sam had graduated a few years before and when I started dating his sister he wasn’t happy. When I got down on one knee, he begged me to call it off.

‘He didn’t think she had what it took to make it through the night, she was a soft soul unlike him. He didn’t want her to go through this whole night.

‘I understood it, but I was too wrapped up in my infatuation to bow out. I was selfish, even though I have participated in twelve graduation nights. I know how awful things can get.

‘I wish I could go back in time and take it all back, because I lost so much that night. I lost my fiance and my best friend all in one night, the rug was pulled out from under me and it was all my fault.

‘I was sent hurtling down a rabbit hole that I didn’t ever think I was going to crawl out from. It was the darkest time in my life, I drank myself into a stupor. I drank myself sober on most days. I did some pretty awful things during that time, I look back on that now and I’m disgusted with myself.

‘And then, on a rare occasion that I wasn’t drunk as a skunk, I met you at that shitty little diner. You were a beacon of light that shone over me, it was the first breath of fresh air I’d breathed in a long time.

‘You sat down at my table with two cups of coffee and told me to drink up Buttercup. You noticed my dark cloud when you walked in and decided to try and brighten my day. Believe me it worked.

“You met me at that diner every day for a week, you never expected me to speak.  We sat quietly, drank that burnt tasting coffee, ate the shitty food and just sat there. It was a kindness I have never experienced before.

‘By the seventh day we finally spoke, I heard your angelic voice and knew right there that I was going to spend the rest of my life trying to hear you speak again.

‘The more time we spent together, the smaller the loss felt. I still miss her every day, but it’s manageable now. I should have told you, but you never asked me to speak about the past and it was too hard to get the words out. So I didn’t tell you.

‘I was wrong about that and I’m so sorry.”

The knife remained wedged against his throat the whole time he spoke, but he barely noticed it. Too busy taking his stroll down memory lane, tears welled in his eyes as his voice broke unevenly,“I’m really fucking sorry. Please…”

Your heart broke at the story. That kind of pain under usual circumstances was difficult, but in Bucky’s case it was so much more unbearable because his family had a hand in his misery.

However, he’d still kept this from you. You were meant to marry this man and he’d left you in the dark. He allowed you to walk into this night with nothing except his love to protect you and you’d nearly died twice.

“That was a nice little story and if you’d told me this a year ago I would've understood. It's just too little, too late.” As difficult as it was, you resolve hardened. ���So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

“Oh Princess, you’re not going to kill me. You wouldn’t be able to go through with it.” Bucky’s eyes darkened, a charred laugh erupted from his chest. “I can see through this little act y’know.”

You narrowed your eyes, involuntarily puffing your chest to display your anger. Bucky smirked down at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I can see that you’re trying to be angry and it’s adorable, really it is. But I would bet my left arm that you’re soaking those gorgeous little lace panties you’re wearing.”

You gasped quietly, “You’re despicable.”

He lurched forward, forcing the knife into his own skin but he didn’t even flinch. You eyes flickered from his face to the wound, you watched as blood trickled from slowly down the base of his neck.

Slick pooled in your panties, soaking the thin material in a way that made you curse him for being right. His hand slipped through the slit of your dress, easing his fingers between your trembling thighs and swiping along your lace covered folds. Your lips quivered at his touch, your eyes fluttered shut.

“‘M not wrong though.” He muttered, pushing your panties to the side and gathering your slick between his thick digits.

An involuntary whimper fell from your lips as his fingers grazed over the hood of your clit. Your hips followed his hand, chasing more of his touch and he crashed his lips into yours.

Your mouths moved in sync with each other desperately as you poured everything you craved into the kiss. You took his lip between your teeth and bit down harshly, tugging his mouth open roughly to slip your tongue into his mouth.

His fingertips continued to tease at your clit but he never quite gave you what you were craving. You knew it was on purpose, he was trying to get you to beg for him. Any other day you would have, but not today.

His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw and down your neck. He lips covered the shell of your ear, nipping at your earlobe gently, his breath filled your ear and intoxicated your brain.

“I bet you’re just aching to lap up the blood trickling down my neck.” He hummed into your ear. “Go on Princess, be a good girl and clean up my mess.”

Your head spun at his words, you smiled wickedly as he pulled back and waited. You tipped his chin upwards with the edge of the knife, revealing the bleeding wound once again.

You stepped close to him, kissing gently along his jawline, his stubble scratched against your lips. Your tongue swirled over the wet wound, lapping up the crimson metallic liquid.

You brought your lips back to his, allowing him to taste himself on your lips. He moaned softly into your mouth. You held the knife between your bodies, softly swiping the knife down his chest. He shuddered under you as the knife passed his stomach.

“I’m really proud of you, you know Princess.” He murmured against your lips. You hummed against him, hooking the knife under his belt and cut through the leather with ease.

“Oh yeah?” You peered up at him innocently through your thick lashes.

“So proud.” He affirmed, as your fingertips ran down his happy trail and fumbled with his button and zipper. His trousers dropped to the floor with a thud.

Your hand dipped under the waistband of his boxers and wrapped your hands around his long thick length tightly. He keened under your touch, “and y-your so close to graduating now.”

You ran your hand up and down his length at a tantalising rate, squeezing him gently with each movement. His head dropped down into the crook of your neck as he moaned needily.

He peppered sweet kisses along the curve of your neck, whispering praises into your skin. His hand wrapped around yours and slowly, carefully he pried the knife from your fingers.

Carefully he shuffled you backwards, until your back hit the wooden beam. For the second time that night he dropped to his knees before you, admiring his view.

“My perfect princess.” He uttered softly.

He traced the edge of the knife along your calves, slowly pushing the fabric of your skirt up into your willing hands until your lace panties were exposed.

The knife crept higher and higher up your thighs until it hit your panties. You held in a sharp breath as he slipped the cold blade underneath them, he was mesmerised by the shining metal under the mesh.

You realised how easily you had walked into this dangerous situation, how easy it would be for Bucky to plunge the knife into your stomach and end it all in a matter of minutes.

And yet, you weren’t scared at all, because despite the game, you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

You wiggled over him impatiently, “Bucky please.” You whined, desperate for him to do something. He grinned up at you as the knife cut through the fabric with complete ease and he peeled it away from your soaking core.

He dropped the knife to the floor, right by your foot and kissed along your legs, just as he had done earlier. He lifted your wounded ankle from the floor and placed it over his shoulder so that he had a better view of your pussy.

You held onto the beam for support, mewling as his tongue teased itself along your thighs. His mouth hovered over your heat as you waited and whined for him all over again.

He chuckled at your impatience and swiped his tongue along your slit and hummed. “Such a sweet little pussy.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his voice sent shockwaves through you.

He wasted no more time taking your bundle of nerves between his lips,  swirling his tongue over the hooded pearl again and again while you writhed on top of him.

He flattened his tongue and ran it along your slit, dipping his tongue into your entrance.

It felt like heaven, you ground your hips into his face and your fingers found their way into his long brown locks. You used his face to drive yourself closer to your high.

He latched onto your clit again, sucking and flicking it in his mouth. His vibranium fingertips were ice cold against your heat, he unexpectedly thrust two fingers inside your aching entrance.

“I’m gonna, Buck I’m…” You stuttered as his fingers thrust deeper, finding that spongy spot inside you over and over. Your walls contracted around his fingers as your orgasm washed over you, your body tightened in his hold as stars erupted behind your eyes.

As you came back down, Bucky removed his lips from your clit, but his fingers pumped in and out of you slowly. You whimpered above him, your sensitive walls continued to suck him in greedily.

“Wish I could spend the rest of the night between your legs.” He grunted, blowing cold air over your sensitive clit.

“Why don’t you?” Your head fell back against the scratchy wood, heavy breaths tore through your lungs.

“And let you miss out on the rest of the fun?” He chuckled loudly, pressing a kiss to your mound. “Not a chance, Princess.”

He stood up from the floor, turned your body away from him and placed your hand against the damp beam.

He lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly buried his thick cock inside you. No matter how many times he fucked you, you could never get over how good he managed to stretch you out every single time.

“Fuck, you feel like a dream, Princess.” He groaned, kissing along your shoulder as you swallowed him all up to the hilt.

He pulled out all the way, driving his hips back into you all over again. He set a brutal pace on your core, sending your head reeling.

“I’m going to ruin your perfect little pussy just like this on our wedding night.” He growled into your ear, his fingertips dug into your hips leaving a fresh litany of possessive purple bruises on your body. “‘M gonna fuck you till there’s nothing in the pretty head of yours.”

“Just without the killer children’s games though right?” You whined, pushing your hips back onto his as you felt your second orgasm nearing too quickly.

He groaned as you tightened around him, he could feel how close you were, you just needed a little push. He snaked his hand around your body, fingers fighting through the netting and found your clit.

He rubbed in harsh, continuous circles until you were practically sobbing for him to stop, you were too sensitive. Your second orgasm was even more intense than the last, your body sagged under his as you came back down.

“I promise no killer children’s games.” He chuckled, removing his hand from your sensitive pearl and raising it above your head and linking your fingers together.

As he rammed into you chasing his own high, you slipped your free hand below your skirt, carefully unbuckling the leather strap from around your thigh.

Bucky’s hips began to stutter as he neared his own end, he was so lost in his own pleasure that he didn’t notice your movements.

His eyes screwed shut and his teeth sunk into your shoulder as he spilled his seed inside you. You continued to move your hips backwards, prolonging his high by grinding down on his cock.

You slipped the pliant leather around his wrist and the beam, unlinking your hands from his and clipping it closed. You pulled away from him, feeling empty as his cock slipped from you, his seed dribbled down your leg.

“Wait Princess, what are you doing?” He grunted, his eyes flickering open with alarm. It was already too late. You had tied him to the beam tight, he wasn’t going anywhere for now. He tugged his wrist against the strap aggressively as you slipped out of his reach.

“Unbuckle me, now.” He snarled, as you offered him your most innocent, doe-eyed look you could muster up.

“Nah, I think you’re good there.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Sorry baby,, but it’s every man for themselves tonight.” You pressed your lips to his gently, but he caught your lip between his teeth and bit down harshly.

“Plus, I know you were planning something to keep me here too. I know you too well.” You giggled, softly cupping his stubble covered cheeks with your hands as you lapped up the blood that spilled from your lip.

You saw the anger subside in his eyes, pride replaced it. “You clever little minx.”

“Well I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a game to win.” You smiled at him again, pressing one last kiss to his cheek before stepping away from him. You picked up your knife from the floor on your way out, “I love you Bucky, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Wait Princess, please you can’t leave me like this.” He hollered, begging you to come back, but you were already gone. You left him standing there quite literally with his pants down and nowhere to run.

4:45am

The adrenaline of running into Bucky wore off almost immediately as you stumbled down the empty hallways, hiding in the shadows and hobbling down the stairs. Tiredness threatened your eyelids as you clung to walls to keep yourself upright.

Paranoia stepped in tow with you, every creek in the house set your teeth on edge. A cool draft drifted through the corridor, pushing you onwards into the unknown.

You had no idea how to get back into the tunnels so you were stuck wandering the halls. You were too exposed, you had to find somewhere to hide, but it just seemed impossible. All the doors you’d tried to open were locked up.

You were beginning to give up hope, when you finally came across open double doors, it was far more luxurious than any of the other doors on this floor. The red stain oak doors ran from floor to ceiling, with intricate swirls carved into them.

You peeked your head in through the gap, your eye met with the image of another maze. Only this maze was formed by dozens of bookcases, filled with hundreds of stories, tales of heroines and victims, love and science fiction.

You knew it was a risk walking into the only open room you could find, but you had to hide somewhere. It was too dangerous being out in the hallway for too long.

You stepped lightly through the tall towers of books upon books, stopping at the first clearing to look around for danger. You waited for someone to jump out of the shadows, but there was no one there.

Your eyes scanned over the comfy looking armchairs dotted around the clearing, it would be so easy to plonk yourself down on the one closest and curl up for a nap. The low light of amber lamps dotted around the clearing only made it more inviting.

As much as you wanted to, there was only one way in and out of the library to your knowledge. This clearing would be the first place any of the family would come across should they check in here and the risk of being caught seemed too high.

You wandered past the clearing, walking along a few more rows of bookcases, the scent of dusty books filled your nostrils.

The size of Tony and Steve’s library could match that of a public library, you had never seen so many books in someone’s house before. It was quite amazing.

You came across a second clearing as you reached the end of the rows of books, you couldn’t go any further now. You scanned over the empty area, it looked even more cosy than the last clearing.

In the corner was a crackling burning fire. A purple velvet chaise longue sat in front of it, a plush faux fur blanket hung over the chair.

Your feet had led you over to the couch without thinking the warmth of the fire pulled you in closer. You ran your hand over the fur blanket, eyes fluttering shut as the soft material enveloped your skin.

A soft breeze blew in from the window, sweeping through the room, it was a jarring contrast to the fire that burned in front of you.

You pottered over to the window and pulled it shut. The sound of it slamming echoed through the quiet room.

Pain throbbed through your body as you plonked down onto the sofa, the fur blanket covered your body like a warm hug.

Exhaustion swept over you, trying to pull you under its current. You were grateful for the reprieve from all the chaos, the quiet was a welcomed change.

Your eyes flickered over your body, taking in all the visible cuts and bruises that covered you from head to toe. You were a total mess, dried mud and dust particles clung to your skin.

Your shoulders sagged, sinking into the sofa and the blanket further. Your heavy eyelids fought to stay open, each time your eyes shut you shocked yourself awake again.

The sounds of female voices drifted to your ears as you began to fall down sleep’s rabbit hole. This time when you forced your eyes back open, alarm bells rang loudly through your mind.

You weren’t alone anymore, it was time to hide again.

You jumped up from the chaise longue, grabbing the iron poker that laid on the floor next to the fire and slipped in between the bookcases, hiding at the end of the row.

“Can’t see any sign of her, Nat.” Wanda uttered, “but the window is closed. So maybe she’s still here.”

Nat studied the clearing, everything looked in order, the closed window was the only indication that you’d been there recently. Wanda opened her mouth to speak again, but Natasha held her hand up to stop her.

Your scent was weak in the air but Natasha had the nose of a bloodhound, she was certain you were still there and she wanted her chance to play with you.

“Oh Princess…” She sang quietly, her voice carried through the gaps in the stacked books. “Come out, come out and play.”

Your body frozen, your tired muscles tensed as her voice sent chills down your spine. Wanda and Natasha stalked around the room, searching for their prey.

You’d done your best to hide, you’d done your best not to move or breath. You didn’t anticipate how difficult it was to hide with such a puffy skirt. The edges of your skirt poked out from behind the bookcase.

Natasha grinned menacingly when the hints of white fabric called out to her from the other end of the row. She silently beckoned Wanda over to her, nodding in your direction.

Wanda matched her friend’s evil smirk and crept off down the aisle towards you. Your heart thumped in your chest, your eyes flickered from side to side as you readied yourself to run for the doors.

Wanda inched into your personal space and jumped out in front of you. “Boo!” she cooed seductively, raising her fist to your face and smashing it into your cheek.

The force of her fist knocked your head back into the wooden bookcase and you swore you could see stars swirling round above your head. The impact of the hit loosened one of your teeth, blood dribbled from your slackened mouth.

You kicked your uninjured foot into her knee to disarm her. You pushed her backwards slamming her into the wall and watched the air leave her lungs.

She hit her fists out at you erratically, trying to hurt you in any way she could. You both struggled against each other, fighting to over power the other.

You managed to slip your fingers into her long flowing red hair and yanked hard. She grunted through gritted teeth as you pulled her by her hair from the wall and threw her to the floor.

She couldn’t hold back her pained cry as she landed on the floor with a loud thud that reverberated through the floorboards. You grabbed the iron poker from the floor, raised it over your head and hit her over and over to disorientate her.

Natasha waited in the wings for her chance to hurt you. She ran at you with a knife drawn, you held the poker up to your chest and the two metals clashed against one another.

The scraping sound of the two objects set your teeth on edge as she ran the knife along the poker, desperately trying to push the knife into your heart.

You pushed back against her, careful not to get too close to the knife. She was stronger than you though and you couldn’t hold her off much longer. You took a deep breath and counted.

One. Two. Three.

You fell backwards, catching yourself before you fell as Natasha flew past you and tumbled to the ground similarly to the way Wanda had.

You dropped the poker and climbed on top of her, straddling her waist to hold her down. You beat your fists into her body, swinging left and right, ignoring the numbing pain that spread across your knuckles with each punch.

Wanda pulled herself to her feet, stumbling from side to side as she staggered towards you. She picked up the poker and held it against your neck, pushing on the bruises that had formed and cut off your air supply.

She pulled you backwards off of Natasha as you flailed underneath her gasping for air. Natasha rolled onto her side, groaning painfully and tried to pull herself together.

Your eyes bulged from their sockets as all oxygen drained from your lungs, you frantically reached out for the discarded knife that lay just out of your reach. You hooked your fingertips around the handle and threw it backwards, jamming it deep in Wanda’s thigh. She let go of the poker, a sharp scream pierced your ears.

You jumped up from the floor, your head swimming with confusion and ran behind one of the bookcases. You rested your back against it and it wobbled under your weight. You didn’t have time to think, only act and Wanda was directly behind the bookcase.

You threw your weight, full force into frame. It dislodged and flew forwards right towards her. It fell to the floor in slow motion, a dust cloud erupted in the air like a smoke bomb, books crashed to ground one by one, pages tore from hundred year old books.

The heavy wood landed against the ground, the sound of bones snapping was unmistakable, the sound of Wanda’s scream followed immediately.

She was completely stuck under its weight, her whimpering sobs filled the air. Guilt wracked you from the inside out, you were frozen in place.

In the corner of your eye you saw Natash rise to her feet, her punch drunk form wobbling. She pulled a new knife from her thigh holster and ran at you quicker this time, you had no time to react.

“Fuck that hurt!” You cried as she stabbed you in the shoulder and ripped the knife from your wound immediately, ready to strike you again.

“Wait! Romanoff, stop!!” Peter hollered, running into the clearing.

He diverted Natasha’s attention from you onto him. She grinned darkly at the man, moving past you and bumping into the shoulder that she’d just driven her knife into seconds ago. You hissed as blood oozed from the stab wound.

She pulled a third knife from her bodysuit and threw both at Peter, one after the other. The first knife clipped his shirt and pinned him to the wall. The second one landed between his spread legs, inches away from his crotch.

You and Peter winced as the second knife landed in the wall. His wide blue eyes met yours, nodding subtly to the exit of the door as Natasha stalked closer to him.

“You’ve already helped her tonight little spider, you’re not allowed to step in again.” She sneered, closing in on his space and pulling the knife from the wall between his legs.

You didn’t bother sticking around to hear anymore, you had to get out. Now. You limped as fast as you could toward the exit.

Natasha noticed your missing presence just as you slipped through the open doors. She held the knife to his throat, “I’ll be telling Stark about what you did tonight.”

You stumbled out into the hallway and ran down the steps on the ground floor and back to the front of the house.

You noticed a door hidden under the staircase and tried the handle, you were surprised when it opened and relieved when you saw the cleaning supplies.

You slipped inside the cupboard and stood waiting for the footsteps to follow after you, but they never came.

The blood from your shoulder was flowing freely, spilling onto the white fabric. You ripped another piece of tulle from your dress and carefully wrapped the material around your shoulder. Involuntary tears slipped from your eyes as you tightened the dressing around your wound.

You lent back against the shelves, tears rolled over your cheeks and you let out a shaky breath. You were done, you had no more fight left in you and it was time to fold.

You were going back to the place where it all began.

5:21am

You didn’t care anymore, that last fight had drained you of all your energy. You stepped out of the cleaning cupboard.

You limped slowly towards the dining room, your feet ached with each step you took. The floor felt spongy under your feet, your head was light and fuzzy from the blood you had lost from your shoulder.

You stood in front of the closed dining room doors, taking deep breaths as you prepared yourself for what you may find on the other side of the doors.

It took all of your energy to push open the heavy doors, it swung slowly, creaking uncomfortably.

You surveyed the dark room, it looked empty except for a single dinner candle that was burning in the middle of the dinner table.

Daylight had broken over the sky, the early morning orange sunlight peeked through the cloud, streaming softly into the room.

The world outside looked so peaceful, only birds had woken up, ignorant to the horrors that had taken place on this estate whilst they were sleeping.

You wandered over the open window, breathing in nature’s calm and allowing the breeze to wash over you and refresh your sleepy senses.

You felt as though you had aged ten years over the course of one night. This night had been a big lesson on Bucky’s world.

“You know, you really should check a room more thoroughly for threats before you enter a room.”

The deep voice startled you, you whipped around squinting and searching the dark corners of the room. Tony stepped forwards into the soft morning light. “Though Barnes would’ve taught you better than that.”

“There’s a lot of things Bucky should’ve taught me before tonight. “ You narrowed your eyes at him as he walked towards the table.

“Perhaps…” He staggered slightly, almost toppling over his own feet and spilling some of the whiskey over his hand.

“But why ruin the surprise?” He mustered up a smile that barely reached his misery ridden eyes. You watched him curiously as he drunkenly dragged a chair out from under the table and plonked himself down, his limbs sprawled out sleepily.

“Well a surprise usually implies that something good happens.” You lent back against the window frame, your eyes never leaving him, just in case he tried to pounce on you.

“I suppose, but if you look at it from my perspective, something good has happened.” He sighed, taking a long swig of drink and emptying the glass. “Barnes has found his perfect match and there’s been no real casualties tonight.”

“So is this the part where you try to kill me too?”

“Usually, yes, but the game will be over in two minutes.” Tony looked up from his watch, meeting your gaze, “and if i’m being honest, I’d rather not deal with Steve’s wrath for killing you like I killed Sarah.”

“That was you?” You gasped loudly, your jaw hanging open.

“Yep and I don’t think Steve has ever really forgiven me for it. I think it would end us completely if I killed you too.”

The bell chimed three times, stopping the snarky comeback that stung your tongue.

“I did it.” You muttered to yourself, a wave of relief washed over you and you released a breath that you’d been holding in all night. A breath that had kept you alive.

“Come on, you’ve got a graduation ceremony to attend.” Tony dragged his intoxicated body from the table and held his hand out to you.

Your feet remained rooted on the ground, refusing to move towards him. Your brain screamed at you, telling you it was a trap.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, promise. The game is over.” Tony reasoned, noticing the uncertainty etched into your features.

You closed the distance between you, taking his arm and allowed him to lead you out to the pool where the family were all gathered. You were met with cheers and smiles as you came face to face with the very people who had spent the night hunting you.

Although he was hidden in the back of the group, your eyes found Sam’s brown eyes, they were glistening in the morning light and offered you sad remorse.

You pushed past the happy faces and threw your arms around his waist despite the pain that twinged in your shoulder. You felt his whole body tense and relaxed under your touch and finally he wrapped his arms around you too.

Neither of you uttered a word, you didn’t need to, he knew what you were communicating without exchanging any words.

When you finally pulled away, you looked up into his eyes offering him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry Sam.” You mumbled loud enough that only he could hear. He didn’t respond but offered you a real smile that met his eyes this time.

A very bruised Natasha wandered over with Wanda hobbling in tow. “Welcome to the family.” Wanda smiled, offering you a bottle of unopened champagne.

“Yeah, not bad for a princess.” Natasha laughed, taking the bottle from your hands and popped it open for you and  handed it back to you. You chugged down the first mouthful, the fizziness burned your lips but you drank on anyway.

You eyes scanned the group, searching for Bucky, but he’d been pulled into a conversation with Peter. You hadn’t noticed that Natasha and Wanda had sloped off back into their own conversation.

“You know that’s about the highest compliment you can receive from Nat.” Steve uttered as he came up beside you.

“Yeah I kinda figured, I gave her a pretty good fight.” You chuckled softly.

“Yeah I found them in the library not long after you left.” He laughed, “congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks...” You muttered as Tony quietened down the family, drawing your attention back to him as he swayed steadily from side to side.

Bucky gingerly walked up beside you, he’d cleaned up since the last time you’d seen him. He had a new shirt, courtesy of Steve. He noticed the way you quietly shivered, the effects of the night clear on your body. He shrugged his jacket off and carefully placed it over your shoulders.

The warmth was a welcomed comfort and his cologne smelt like home. You watched as Tony’s lips moved, but you couldn’t hear a thing, the erratic beat of your heart thumped too loudly.

You slipped your hand into Bucky’s, but your eyes remained on Tony. You felt the way he moved beside you, checking that he hadn’t made up the feel on your fingers interlocked with his.

Your ears tuned back into your surroundings, it was like resurfacing from underwater.

“So I now declare this graduation ceremony complete! My dear, welcome to the family!” Tony cheered, raising his own personal bottle of champagne in your direction.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say we can’t wait for the wedding.” Steve chimed in as everyone cheersed your graduation.

Slowly you brought the bottle to your lips again, chugging down as much as you could take as it burned your throat.

Steve watched you closely, his eyes met  Bucky’s and they shared a look above your head. “Well it’s your graduation night, is there anything you’d like to say?”

Silence fell over the group, all eyes turned to you once again. A nervous laugh bubbled in your throat, “you’re all fucking insane…”

The silence that hung in the air turned from curiosity to awkward, they were stunned by your honesty. Bucky turned to you, worry evident in his eyes, his vibranium fingertips ran up and down your arm to soothe you.

“Does that mean the wedding’s off?” He mumbled, you could see the way his lips trembled as the words left his lips. He was terrified of the answer.

The next words that you uttered would determine how you walked out of this estate tonight, if you walked out at all.

“It means…” You paused, running your hands over his chest, barely able to contain your smile as you stared up into his cerulean orbs.

“That I’m looking forward to the next game night, when I’m not the one being hunted for sport.” You smiled wickedly as the Bucky’s tensed muscles relaxed under your touch.

He took your face in his hands, crashing his lips down on yours. You melted into his touch, allowing him to intoxicate your senses. You were faintly aware of the family’s cheers as your lips moved against his softly.

He pulled away from you reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He breathed.

“I love you too.” You muttered, “and I already have some positively wicked ideas for the next poor soul that wants in on the family.”

You didn’t think it was possible for his smile to widen anymore and somehow it did. His eyes lit up, he looked down at you as if you’d hung the moon.

“Princess, I think we’re going to make an excellent team when the time comes.”

Tags: @theselilwonders @elemenhoepe @delaber @ramp-it-up @nikole-witha-k @lonelydance @mkirk12776 @turbolisedcomet @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @aquariusbarnes @ysmmsy @anxiousgirlsarehotter

[taegularities]

Hello lovely Rid 💕💕

So 👉👈 I might have been inspired to make a moodboard for c&f too, since I liked making the cmi one. I had been thinking about it for a while and kept casually adding images to pinterest boards but I finally sat down and did it. And since I couldn't decide on a colour scheme I ended up making two lol. Here they are!

They're a little bit more traditional? not like the one for cmi where the pictures were more spaced out. I decided to use pics of JK in his photofolio since they fit both colour schemes so well, even though c&f Jungkook obviously doesn't have the piercings and tattoos lol. Creating these gave me a lot more grief this time ngl, but this is what I settled on since my perfectionist ass always thinks it could be better.

Anyway, I made them just for fun but I hope you still like them. Love you lots, Rid 💞💞💞

IVI 😭 love, i still am not over the cmi moodboard and think of it every now and then, and now you gave me more to fall in love with?! 😭 honestly, both colour schemes fit so well, i feel like they embody the ambiguity of this fic and their love. pure and tender on one side, wild and dangerous on the other.

ALSO OC BEING WATER/ICE AND JK BEING FIRE !!!!! no but seriously – all those candles, the corsets, the jks. him opening said corset or them standing in that room seconds before that kiss. this is fkn perfect, i am speechless... i adore you, thank you so damn much, i love this so sososo much :(( <3333

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Chapter 1: Somethings Go Better Together

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Summary: When Santiago feels his "biological clock" ticking, he turns to his best friend and asks the life changing question: "Will you have my baby?"

Warnings: This is going to be a hell of a ride. I have angst planned. I have smut planned. I have Fluff planned. and as always because I have the vocabulary of a sailor, explicit language. This is an 18+ fic. Minors DNI.

A/N: Shout out to @mylifeisactuallyamess for my beautiful moodboard. Thanks a bunch, doll 😘 Gosh. This has been gnawing at me for a little over a month now? And I am so nervous excited to share the first chapter.

Santiago always thought that the "biological clock" was a woman thing. One where their hormones flared anytime they were around a baby or child or they would get "baby fever". He never imagined finding himself that way. Seeing Frankie all grown up and married with 2.5 kids, made Santi yearn for something more than the bachelor life he had been living. Hell, even Will had a kid on the way. It left him thinking, maybe he could have that, too.

You had given up on being a married woman. After two failed engagements and one too many boyfriends that went nowhere, you started to think the problem was you. So, you swore off relationships, sticking to hanging out with your best friends. Unfortunately for you, those best friends were unfairly attractive. There was Benny, your bestest friend. The one who you told everything to, the one who was right there when your engagements fell apart. Then you had Santiago. There was your trouble. You always harbored a crush for the man, ever since Benny introduced you 7 years ago. He was your rock. The person you went to when you wanted to forget about life, or if you needed a drinking buddy.

Benny was proposing to his long term girlfriend, Kayla. You had helped him find the ring, plan the moment, everything a best friend should do. So, when everything went off without a hitch, and he slid the ring onto her slender finger as she sobbed out a "yes" without ruining her mascara, you couldn't help but feel sad. Benny, your Benny; your sweet, wonderful, golden retriever in a human body, Benny was getting married. That's how you found yourself at the bar with Santi, knocking back tequila shots like they were water.

"It's not that I don't like her. God, I do. She is perfect for him. And she has never questioned our friendship. It's just not fair." You whined to the curly headed man next to you as you licked away the drop of tequila that escaped.

He nodded in agreement as he threw back his next shot. "No. No. I get it. I mean, of all people to get hitched before me? Benny? Next thing you know, there will be another tiny Miller on the way." Santi scoffed. Was he jealous? Yes, he was. Was he aware that jealousy did not look good on him? No, because everything looks good on him.

You groaned, laying your head on the bar top. "Does this make us bad friends?" You hiccuped, looking up into Santi's amber brown eyes. The usual hardened exterior was gone, and he looked at you with such softness.

“No, querida. It doesn’t make us bad friends. We just want to be happy, too.” You felt his large hand splay over your back as he rubbed gentle circles. The tequila started to take over and your eyes grew weary. “Come on, sweetheart, Let’s get you home.”

The days following, Santi couldn't get the idea of having a family out of his head. The thought of having a small version of himself, of a woman he loved, lived rent free in his head. He was more than ready to settle down.

The unfortunate problem was he didn't want to wait. His impatience was eating him alive. There was no way he would find someone who would want to immediately have a baby with him.

He laid in bed, imagining laying there with his wife, and it's one of those few minutes they get alone together before the baby wakes. Stealing sweet kisses, holding her close, telling her how he could never thank her enough for bringing a miracle into the world.

He sighed, as he threw the cover off his body, groaning as his knees popped when he stood; just another sign of his impending old age. He had to meet you for breakfast in 15 minutes. You. He knew you were backing off the dating scene. He also knew that you longed for a family just like him. Maybe, just maybe, you would go on this journey with him.

You were already at the diner, seated, when Santi walked in. You waved him over to your table. He greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, like always.

"You're late. You are never late to our breakfasts." You sipped your coffee, as you looked at him accusingly.

Santiago pouted, "I know. I lost track of time. I got caught up in my own head.” He took a seat across from you. “I have something to ask you." Santi said, tapping his fingers nervously. He was about to ask you to carry his child. How he even thought asking something so big of you was a good idea, he didn't know, but he was going to anyway.

"Sure, what's up? You seem nervous." You knew his tells like the back of your hand. That's how you always beat him at poker.

Santiago sat up straight, taking your hand in his. "What I am about to ask you is crazy, even for me. But you should know that I have thought about this for weeks." He paused, giving you time to catch up with him. When you nodded for him to continue, bringing your coffee back to your lips. he took a deep breath. "Will you have my baby?"

You heard the words, you saw his lips move, yet you couldn't comprehend what he said. "M'sorry, what?" You choked on the sip of coffee you had just taken.

"Will you have my baby?" He repeated. You felt your throat dry up, unable to respond. Did he understand what he just asked? He wanted you to have his baby? Santi's palms started sweating and his stomach began flipping. "Please say something." He begged.

A million thoughts ran through your head. You reached for your water, taking a sip, trying to get your voice back. Could you have his baby? What would happen after? You didn't know what to feel. It all felt like a dream. "Santi, I don't-- I-- That is a very loaded question." You finally managed to say.

Santiago nodded, "You're right. I'm sorry, forget I said anything." He apologized as he went to stand.

"Wait!" You reached out to him. Were you really about to say this? "Let's talk about it." Santi's face brightened with a smile as he settled back into his seat. You couldn't believe yourself. A baby?! That's a lot of responsibility. A lot of sleepless nights. Motherhood was never anything you considered, given your relationship history.

"Look, I know it's crazy, but I want a baby. And I couldn't just walk up to a stranger and say 'hey, have my baby.'" Was he serious right now? Literally any woman would jump at the chance, so why weren't you?

You sat there, the thoughts going miles a minute. There were so many things that could go wrong between the two of you, not to mention everything that could go wrong with the pregnancy. Did he really think all of this through? "Why?" Was the only thing you could say. It's really the only thing you wanted to know.

"Because, I'm almost forty. I'm tired of being a bachelor, I'm ready for something more. I babysit for Frankie and Brooke every other weekend, and when I look at Mateo and Izzie, my heart yearns for my own. I love being uncle Santi, but I'm ready to be daddy." The sincerity on his face as he revealed this secret to you, made your heart melt, made you believe him.

You were ready to jump on this crazy train, but there was one more answer you needed. "Why me?" You asked. You had never been so nervous sitting in front of Santi. This was a man you have bared your soul to, a man you trusted with your life. Santi pulled his chair closer to you. He whispered your name, pulling you back from your thoughts.

"You are the strongest woman I know. You are my best friend. There isn't a woman I trust more in this world to carry my baby. Plus we'd make a cute kid." He winked, trying to lighten the tension with a joke. He laced his fingers with yours, "You have seen me at my best and at my worst. There isn't anyone who knows me better than you. No one knows you better than me, minus Benny. You would be the best mom in the world." He squeezed your hands in comfort, before releasing you.

You were drowning in your thoughts. "Can I-- Can I think about it? Like you don't need my answer right now do you?" You stuttered, unsure of what to do. You were unsure of what to say, though your heart was screaming yes.

"No, no. Of course, think about it. It's a life changing decision. I'll go pay for breakfast." He beamed, happy that you were even considering thinking about it. You watched as he walked to the register. You immediately pulled out your phone, texting Benny.

I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. ASAP.

You waited for a reply that never came.

Chapter 2

[the-fangirls-desk]

Summer Daze (Usnavi x F!Reader)

Summary: When Usnavi's allergies start acting up, he tries taking something for it; unfortunately, he ends up taking the wrong stuff.

A/N: This is a mini fic as part of my limited time "Sleepy Intimacy Requests" from the list here (x)

Prompt Request: #11 with Usnavi "I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil on accident and now I'm about to pass out."

Requested by: @feathersandfoxtails

(Threw in a custom moodboard for you!)

The first thing you could feel when coming to your senses, was the warm embrace of your smooth sheets and big fluffy duvet. The bedding felt so comforting as it kept yours and Usnavi's body heat locked in from all last night, and into the morning. Even though the month was already four days into summer, the waking hours in your apartment still seemed a bit cool. Probably only because the summer heat hasn't had a chance to settle in yet.

By some miracle this morning, you woke up before your alarm. Not to say you normally jumped out of bed or anything like that---couldn't have been more of the opposite, especially since you weren't a morning person. Usnavi, on the other hand, pretty much had his internal clock locked into a solid routine of rising earlier than the birds. Your routine was a completely different story.

You needed time to slowly rise and ease into your morning; it seemed to be the only proven method that could make dealing with the rest of the day easier. On normal occasions, since he slept on the side of the bed closest to the clock, Usnavi would hit the alarm as quickly as his reflexes would allow him to. That way you could take your time, and wouldn't have to suffer through all that buzzing.

Yes, buzzing. The bedside alarm clock you two used was a completely outdated model all the way back from the year of 2004, so it had that really loud obnoxious buzzing alarm sound. It also happened to be a Christmas gift to Usnavi from the now late Abuela Claudia.

That year he complained non-stop about how his previous one was acting up in the form of going off when it wasn't supposed to, as well as not doing a thing when a time had been set on it.

He could've bought that for himself a long time ago, but was usually kept on his toes by the store, as well as making sure Sonny was taken care of.

Now that exact clock that was the godsend he needed continued to faithfully go off on the dot every morning. Even though it got the job done, you wished for a more modern, "sleek" alarm; kinda like the default ones you could find on your phone. Sure those alerts were annoying too, but at least they didn't sound like someone was using an electric pencil sharpener right over your head.

However, the conversation about that closed long ago. You basically asked Usnavi if you could just use your phones to wake you up but he really didn't want to do that. It took a bit of poking and probing, but he eventually came clean to you about why he kept the crappy thing around.

It was about a year ago, on a warm day. You two were having this discussion while doing some spring cleaning and Usnavi found the clock in a box he kept under the bed. He was supposed to have this set up months ago, but he let it get away from him due to trying to handle all the daily responsiblilites of an adult, per the norm:

"Why are yout tastes so old?" You chuckled, while dusting.

"Hey, they ain't old, they're retro. Classy, some might say. Matter a fact, you may as well call me Richie Valens."

"Yeah, Classy alright. Class of 1950."

"I know, I know, I'm just messing with you. But seriously, why keep that old one when we can just use the built in alarms on our phones? Saves space on the nightstand and we can even make our own custom ones. The sounds on that thing would be like a police siren going off every morning.

"You know it wasn't made that long ago."

"Yeah, Babe, I know. It's just that..."

His trailing off told you that he really didn't wanna finish his admission. Damn near impossible to overlook his lips tightening as if trying to keep his voice from having the slightest crack in it.

"Usnavi, what?" you asked, voice becoming softer.

"Abuela. She gave this to me, you were there 'member?"

"Yeah. Handful of years ago."

You could still remember how proud she was to give that to Usnavi. Abuela was practically beaming at seeing him open his gift and smile. Why shouldn't she smile with him? Although jobless, she managed to scrape together enough money to get something he both needed and wanted. Knowing her, she probably sold something of hers or maybe even did some cleaning, sewing work etc. to afford it.

When you asked her later in the kitchen how she got it, she simply gave you a warm smile, and went about her business cleaning everything up. Not the clearest response, but it told you she proudly earned the money.

Honestly, Abuela was sweetest lady on earth and it still hurt to this day that she was gone.

"I know it's been a while since she passed, but...tossin' it aside would feel like I'm tossin' her aside. Yeah yeah, I think of her every day and kept all her things, tell her legacy. I just can't abandon her, so I really want us to use this to get us up every morning. Could be like she's starti' the day for us."

Abuela was always super gentle when waking Usnavi, but you understood his sentiment.

He was looking at the clock the entire time his heart was being poured out; it wasn't until he finished speaking that he looked up from where he was sitting on the floor and made eye contact again.

"I'm sorry, is that weird?"

"No! no no no, Usnavi."

You settled yourself next to him.

"I completely understand. She was like my Abuela too, you know?"

"Yeah. It's a big fuss to make about a clock, but---"

"Really?"

"No buts. The sentimental value behind an ordinary item can be a very powerful thing. If it really means that much to you, then we'll plug it in right next to our bed immediately if you want."

"Really."

BZZT BZZT BZZ

You were still so caught in between awake and asleep, that it might have given you a frickin' mini heart attack when the alarm went off for real this time, pulling you foggy mind away from its thoughts. As per usual, you continued to lay there, waiting for Usnavi to sit up and hit the snooze.

Normally it buzzed about four times before he reacted, but this time he seemed to just be letting go off. Maybe he was just in an extra deep sleep this time. Heaven knows how much rest he really needed to catch up on.

"Mmmnngg...Usnavi..."

No response.

"Usnavi..." you groaned.

Still not a peep out of him.

Confusion hit, and you flipped over on your other side, only to be greeted with his back to you.

BZZT BZZT BZZT

Ugh that damn noise! How could he not hear that? It would have been more trouble to reach across him and do it yourself. Finally taking control of the situation your hand grabbed his shoulder and firmly shook it.

"Usnavi!"

He finally stirred a bit, barely lifting his head but somehow still unaware of the audible assault still going on.

"Hmm?"

"The alarm's going off!" you whined, trying to block the noise by pulling your pillow over your head.

"Th-the alarm, wha--?"

"Ugh, I'll do it myself!"

His head dropped back down to the pillow, complete dead weight.

Despite the rude awakening, your body still felt like a cinder block as you forced yourself to scoot closer and reach over his form only for your index and middle finger to barely hit the button since the clock sat on the farther side of his nightstand.

By some miracle, it worked.

Ahhh...golden silence.

Still leaning over Usnavi, you looked down and noticed he seemed to already be fading back to sleep.

"Usnavi." Shook him again.

"What?" he moaned.

"Didn't you hear the alarm go off? It's time to get up."

"It's morning already?" he almost sounded like a kid when they wake up with a cold.

"Yes. Are you okay? You seem off."

"Ugh my allergies, they started back up again yesterday and kept me awake all night. Just kept sneezing and couldn't breathe through one nostril. I just got back to sleep like a couple of hours ago."

"Two hours?! Why didn't you take something for it? Or least wake me up?"

"I thought it would go away on its own. They're usually not this bad, plus I didn't wanna wake you up."

Sigh, this stupidly sweet man. Like a lot of people, Usnavi was known to suffer from hay fever every year when spring transitioned into summer. Yours tended to kick in around early spring and it was a bitch to deal with. Seems like his returned with a vengeance this time around.

"Here, turn over and lemme see."

He did as he was told, and upon seeing each other face to face, it's clear he wasn't kidding. The tip of his nose and rims of his eyes were reddened; and the breath coming from both his nose and slightly parted lips sounded a bit congested.

Yeah, this was a familiar sight.

"Do I look as bad as I feel?"

"Yeah, you really do. Maybe the store should stay closed today?"

He was bad at pretending to consider it and it was annoying to no end, but that was Usnavi for you; a complete workaholic. Unless he literally couldn't drag himself out of bed, the day was going to go as planned.

"Well--"

"Don't. I can see you're gonna go to work any way, but at least take some of that DayQuil we have in the bathroom."

"Good idea. Here, I'll get your coffee first."

"No that's alright. You go on and take that medicine so you can at least function today. I'll make the coffee for us this morning."

"Aw, I don't deserve you (Y/N). Dame un beso."

Your hand kept him pushed back a bit.

"Ah. Maybe after the DayQuil."

"Right. I'll go take care of that; see you in the kitchen?"

"It's a date."

After he disappeared to the bathroom, you could hear him rummaging in the medicine cabinet for the DayQuil. When he didn't return after you assumed he completed the ten second task of measuring the right amount and downing it, the sound of running water could be heard.

It was coming from the sink. He was probably getting ready for the day---washing his face, brushing his teeth and whatnot.

Ugh, better get up and start the coffee before he was done. Being his girl meant you had the honor of learning how to remake the special blend he gave the customers every morning.

Something seemed to be telling you it was going to be quite a bit of an off day, so not really caring about looking perfect right now, you grabbed the first shirt and pair of pants from your half of the bedroom closet.

Usnavi came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and into the kitchen while buttoning up his favorite red overshirt with the little twisty white pattern on the front.

"Hey, right on time. Feeling any better?"

You were just finishing up pouring coffee for the two of you.

"Not yet," he sighed, congestion still very audible. "I guess it needs a bit of time to work."

"Are you sure you wanna run the store today? You've been getting a bit behind in having any decent sleep."

He took the little carton of milk off the counter and poured a generous amount into his mug.

"I'll be fine. It'll pass, it always does."

There was just no stopping him no matter what you tried when it came to work.

"If you say so..."

As you were finishing up, he took a look at his watch.

"Gotta get going. The doors are supposed to open in about twenty minutes."

"Alright."

He leaned in for a kiss, but then stopped himself and relocated it from your lips to your forehead instead. With the symptoms he had at the moment, he knew the kiss wouldn't be that great for the either of you.

It made you laugh.

"I'll see you later, I love you."

"Love you too."

Usnavi was only a foot out the door when he rushed back in.

"Hey (Y/N) have you seen my---?"

"It's on the coffee table." You said, back turned towards him as you tried to enjoy the morning sun in your kitchen.

His hat. He never left anywhere without it.

"Got it. Thanks."

May as well enjoy the peace while it was there. Today was definitely going to be odd, you could feel it.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON...

"Wow, all this pollen is kicking my ass." Usnavi muttered to himself.

He was wiping down the counter for about the tenth time that day when he felt yet another wave of fatigue make him wobble where he stood. Still wasn't feeling great; the symptoms eased a bit, but he was so tired and couldn't figure out why.

Honestly, he would've dropped like a sack of potatoes if he didn't have the counter to lean against. Surprised he was even able to hold himself up by sheer willpower since gravity certainly wasn't going to help.

The only thing he wanted to do was lock up and go sleep at home. the very thought caused him to bury his face in his hands as he miserably groaned. Whhyyy why couldn't he shake this drowsiness?

More than once, the coffee machine called to him like a siren as it gave him the idea of using caffeine to wake him up. But he didn't wanna risk burning himself in this drunk-like state.

If only Sonny was here to pick up the slack; normally he was, but him and his mom were currently out of town spending some quality time off the grid.

Half comatose and it was only noon. Hurry up, five 'o clock...

Just then the little bell at the entrance rang, bringing him back somewhat.

"Hey, Lil Homie!"

Uh oh.

"Benny, hi." Usnavi did his best to steady himself and stand up straight but he couldn't keep from sniffling at the irritation in his nose.

"I just came to get---woah, what happened to you?"

Great.

"What do you mean?" he feigned, taking out a Milky Way from one of the candy shelves nearby since Benny always dropped in for a little pick me up this time of day.

"Don't try that. You're not drunk, are you?"

"Benny, come on, you know I don't drink during the day."

"Then why are your eyes all red and glassy?"

Oh shut up, why was he grilling him so badly? He really wasn't in the mood for it right now.

"It's just my allergies. They kept me up all night, so I didn't get any sleep, that's all."

As Usnavi rang up the candy bar, Benny looked relieved at the statement. He knew Usnavi wasn't one to get drunk during work hours, but it wasn't like him to be so 'unprofessional looking' while he worked.

"Oh. Well why don't you take something for it? You literally got shelves and shelves for this kinda issue."

"I did. I took some DayQuil this morning, and it hasn't done anything so far. Been using all my strength just to stay standing and I can't stop feelin' so sleepy."

"Sit down for a minute, then. Business seems slow today."

Oh if only he could. He really wanted to lie down, but it wasn't worth the risk of getting robbed.

"If I sit, I'll zonk out. I just want this stuff to do its job."

Benny handed over his due amount and began to unwrap the Milky Way, taking a generous bite once the wrapper was off.

"So take another dose."

"I would, but the instructions said clear as day not to take more until six hours have passed."

Usnavi felt it again; that dizzying head rush. He firmly planted his palm on the register to steady himself.

"Are you sure that's what the instructions said? The way you are right now, it couldn't hurt to try again."

"Benny, the instructions said six hours, so if the little blue bottle tells me to wait that long, I'm gonna wait that long!"

The taxi dispatcher rolled his eyes. Usnavi was always one to take rules too seriously. After taking another bite, his mind rewound something he just heard.

"Hold on, blue bottle?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I thought you said you took DayQuil."

"I did."

Something wasn't adding up here.

"Bro, DayQuil doesn't come in blue bottles, it comes in orange bottles."

"No no wait, because---"

He was right. Oh no, he was right. That wasn't DayQuil he took this morning! No wonder he couldn't wake up. His head fell into his hands again.

"Oh no, Bennyyyy. I think I took NyQuil instead!"

"Yeah, ya think so?? Sit down right now before you fall and crack your head open. Honestly, how could you do something so dumb?"

"I don't know, I was feeling awful, trying to get ready in a hurry, and when I caught a glance of the word 'quil' on the closest bottle, I just thought it---oh Benny, why me?"

Back at the apartment, you were currently kicked back on the couch. With it being your day off and all, the only thing you'd been doing since Usnavi went to work was watching Netflix and drinking coffee while giving social media a bit too much attention since you had your laptop out.

It was a not so guilty pleasure.

You had absolutely no idea how many episodes of Golden Girls you sat through by this point, but nothing was gonna stop you from watching another ten episodes.

Maybe nothing except a bathroom trip. Didn't even realize how many cups of coffee and how many hours you spent sitting on the couch without a bathroom break.

You groaned in annoyance since your lazy day persona didn't wanna get up. Obviously it was a necessary trip, though.

With much reluctance, you moved the laptop aside and went down the hall.

It wasn't until after you washed your hands and dried them off that you noticed Usnavi left the sink in a bit of a state. Nothing terrible, and it wasn't worth scolding him over since he wasn't the sharpest this morning.

Again, nothing terrible; toothpaste still laying out, face wash without the lid put back on, bottle of NyQuil---wait, what?

NyQuil? Didn't you tell him to take the day stuff? Did he--? Nah, he wouldn't. Before leaving the bathroom, your gut told you to be more thorough. So after digging through the storage under the sink, sure enough, in the third drawer, you found a completely sealed bottle of DayQuil.

Oh, Usnavi. Yep you called it; weird day.

You were rushing through the bodega doors within under ten minutes. Thankfully the apartment was next door to the business.

"Usnavi! Usnavi! You didn't take DayQuil this morning, you---"

He was sitting behind the register, a bit slumped over in his seat with his head on Benny's shoulder, who was sitting by his side. Probably to keep him from crashing to the floor.

His speech was practically slurring by now.

"Yeah, Benny here explained everything to me. I took NyQuil instead of DayQuil on accident and now I'm about to pass out."

"Alright that's it, we're going home because you are in no condition to work and you're not fighting me on this."

"Pfft. Couldn't fight you on it if I tried."

"Benny, would you please walk him over to the apartment, and I'll lock up?"

"Sure. Better yet, I'll do ya one better."

With one fell swoop, Benny scooped up his little friend into his arms. Had he been more lucid, Usnavi would've been kicking and fighting, saying he could walk perfectly fine.

Benny could be trusted. He was Usnavi's best friend and practically a big brother to you.

Once everyone was outside, you promptly locked the door behind and turned to see Benny already heading up the building stairs. Even though you'd known him for quite some time now, it never ceased to amaze you what a good friend he was to you and Usnavi.

Now there was a guy you could trust with your life.

Only minutes later, you were unlocking the apartment door and letting the guys in.

"On the couch?" He asked.

"No, put him in the bedroom. He'll be more comfortable."

You and Benny made sure to get Usnavi as comfortable as possible. Taking off his shoes and putting his hat to the side should make a world of difference. By the time you were done, he was only in those oversized pants he wore and undershirt. Whatever strength he had left, he used to adjust the pillow and roll over on his side.

He looked like he was drowning under that big duvet.

What a relief. While the bodega had yet to befall any kind of victimhood to robbery, just imagine what could have happened if he were in this state at the same time a couple of punks came in...

"Here, you gimme the keys and I'll take care of pulling down the grate and lock it up."

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver."

Handing him the keys, you noticed a humble smile.

"Ah, nah it's not a big deal."

"Really Benny, we owe you one."

"Hey, that's my best friend in the whole world, and you're like the little sister I never wanted."

"Ha ha." You flatly responded.

Benny chuckled and ruffled your hair.

"Alright, call if you need anything. I'll just give these back tomorrow."

"Sounds good. I know you'll take care of them."

"Well, I'll leave you two to relax now."

"Thanks Benny.

Tending to Usnavi in this state was like taking care of a sleepy drunk while he was under the NyQuil's influence. Thankfully this drunk didn't have any more will to even try to stand.

Honestly you were still feeling sleepy yourself from this morning, so the only logical thing to do was to go ahead and slide under the covers with him.

It wasn't crazy to think the medicine would keep him completely out, but apparently your own attempts to adjust and get comfortable made him realize you were in bed too. Instinctively, he ended up scooting as close as possible and slung a heavy arm over your stomach.

Almost like a kid sleepily reaching for a teddy bear at bedtime.

His eyes were locked shut, but he was definitely somewhat awake.

"Usnavi? I thought you were asleep already."

"Mmm...wanna hol' you firs..."

"Yeah? You like cuddling with me?"

"Mhmm. You're warm...smell good."

Oh he was too cute. So sappy.

"That's a relief. I thought I needed a shower today."

His arm slid back over you and found its way to your hand where his fingers intertwined with yours. He was so cute when he was sleepy; it wasn't even the NyQuil talking, because this is normally what he did when he was tired and wanted to cuddle.

"No...don' go."

You kissed the tip of his reddened nose, feeling the slight warmth it radiating from the slight ailment it was going through. To hopefully soothe him a bit more, you took your hand back and gently stroked his hair.

"It's okay, Mi Amor. I'm not going anywhere."

His eyebrows furrowed, making sure he heard that correctly.

"No?"

"No. Now go to sleep. You need some rest."

"I love you." He mumbled, finally drifting off. He wanted to say more, but his mind and mouth just couldn't seem to form the words through all the fog in his brain.

Finally, he gave in and let go. Allowing himself to succumb to the heaviness in his mind and body. And it was for real this time, because the most peaceful light snore came out of him. Hopefully he'd feel better when he woke. Those allergies were being merciless.

There was something perfect about this moment. The simplest parts of seemed to completely capture your attention in the best ways.

By now it was only one in the afternoon, but the peacefulness of it would have you believe it was closer to five in the evening.

As you soaked in the ambience, you noticed the bedroom was cloaked in this relaxed grey lighting. Only a bit of sunlight peeked its way through the partially opened blinds, creating this sleepy aesthetic you could take a picture of. Unfortunately, this Dominican koala wrapped around you wouldn't have liked it, as he was snoring away so peacefully.

Oh well, maybe another time. His scent was so comforting and you wished you were able to describe it. It wasn't like anything in particular. Not fruity, not spicy, he was just...Usnavi. And the scent of Usnavi combined with the bedding was so heavenly.

The covers had been recently laundered, so they still had that fresh cotton-y smell. Why couldn't this day last forever? Sure it may have been weird like you predicted, but it ended on a pretty good note.

Your body seemed to understand everything was okay now. At last, you closed your eyes and drifted off to the sound of the fan blowing and Usnavi snoring on you.

Six hours later, you woke to the warm lighting of Usnavi's bedside lamp glowing over your back. No telling how late it was, but your little nap lasted longer than expected. Ugh, probably be best to wake Usnavi up and get him to eat something.

But when you looked over to his side of the bed, he was gone. The spot he slept in earlier was cold now. How long had he been awake? You must have rolled away from him while sleeping.

He must've somehow heard your thoughts, because a few moments later, Usnavi entered the bedroom with a pizza box in hand. It was just delievered judging by the way the aroma wafted all over the room.

"Hey Sleepin' Beauty." he teased, absolutely loving how you looked just waking up; so sleepy and dazed.

"Sure that's not what I should start calling you?"

"Okay hardy-har, punches thrown."

He placed the pizza box down on the bed, opening it up and allowing you to take first pick. It smelled so good! All your favorite toppings and everything.

"So, feeling any better?" you asked.

He took a bite of his slice, shrugging a bit.

"Still kinda groggy but my allergies feel better. Still can't believe I took the wrong stuff."

"It's one for the scrapbook for sure."

"You're not wrong. What about you? Feeling rested?"

You nodded, trying to quickly chew your pizza to give a clearer answer.

"I guess so. Our sleep schedule was all kinds of messed up from today."

He couldn't argue with that one.

On the bright side, the bodega wouldn't be open tomorrow due to the weekend.

"Well I don't have to work tomorrow. How 'bout we eat pizza and watch Netflix till we pass out again?"

"Sounds good to me. What should we watch?"

"Actually, I was hoping we could do Hulu instead? I was having a Golden Girls marathon today."

"That the one with the old ladies?" He eyed suspiciously.

"Yeah...?"

"Sure, why not? I haven't even watched it yet."

"Oh it's so funny! Trust me, you're gonna love it."

He sat on the bed next you, grabbing another slice of pizza to enjoy as you fired up the TV. Once the theme song began to play, Usnavi leaned back, putting his arms around you and enjoying the moment.

Yeah, this was a pretty good day.

THE END

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 9 | February 21st –February 27th

Welcome to week 9 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 10»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week:

Run To You Moodboard » I made a moodboard for my friend's ongoing Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader story Run To You

Can I Have This Dance? » Steve Rogers x Reader — 4 times the reader asked Steve to dance with her, and one time Steve her.

Mr. FBI Agent Jimmy Woo Playlist » All he ever wanted was to belong, and now he does, alongside Monica Rambeau and Dr. Darcy Lewis. Karaoke is now 10x’s better.

You’ve Been Everything » Steve Rogers x OFC!Orchid Black — They haven’t shared a bed in months; the snap has changed them both. There is no one to blame.

Sam Wilson

One-Shots:

Great Day To Build A Treehouse by @bestofbucky » Sam Wilson x Reader — Sam Wilson sets off to build your guys sons a treehouse while determined to make you lose your guys bet who can go the longest without sex. Will he win or will you? After all, who can deny a shirtless Sam? | This was adorable yet sexy all at once and I want more please. There just isn’t enough Sam content on here. Thanks lovely for feeding my Sam side, along with some really good smut!

Skinny Jeans, Action Figures, and Baby Shark by @callmeluna » Sam Wilson x Reader ft. Alpine — You, Sam, and boredom are a dangerous combination. No Avenger is safe. | If you need a laugh, you have to read this, because I couldn't stop laughing while reading.

Stucky

One-Shots:

*Proud Popsicle by @firefly-in-darkness » Dad!Stucky x Daughter!Reader (platonic) — Y/N visits her Dads after her holiday with her partner. | This was honestly so adorable and Daisy, you made me tear up. I sort of wish it had never ended and I had more to read.

Serves You Right to Suffer by @mypoisonedvine » dark!Bucky Barnes & dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — a little fresh air never hurt anyone, right? | The smut in this is so good while remaining a really good dark plot to it. I got shivers quite a few times while reading this and I can’t help but wonder just where is reader and the boys now...

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems. | My third time reading this and it probably won’t be my last. The smut in this is just so intense and well written. Also it’s Mob!Stucky.

(Mini)Series:

Terrigenisis by @tuiccim » Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Inhuman!Reader — After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever? | This story has everything in it, animals, angst, fluff and smut. So it’s like the perfect story all wrapped up with a neat little bow.

Steve Rogers

One-Shots:

Points of Authority by @river-soul » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — After failing the required self-defense class Captain Rogers offers to give you one on one lessons. His methods are not what you expect and an impromptu session reveals his true intentions. [Violence, dubcon, bullying and fat shaming, 18+] | I felt personally attacked. 😉 As a plus-size girl all I could think was come at me sir, but at the same time I was like I just wanted to stay in bed and the reader was getting my vibes. So good!

(Mini)Series:

Just Say It And I’m Yours by @whisperlullaby » Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve is considering retiring from being Captain America. He feels like he lost himself through all the fighting and wants to get back to his roots. In comes Y/N who seems to be everything he needs in his life. They are fierce and dynamic but what happens when they get caught up in trying to be what everyone else want them to be? | This story is so good and unique. Becca you deserve all the gold stars for this seriously. I look forward to reading more.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

Answer Me by @fuel-joy » Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You get a scary phone call. You ‘re forced to play a game to win your freedom. Can you beat the game or will he win in the end. | Read the notes before reading, this is a little darker than I usually read, but I still really enjoyed this. I’m just glad I didn’t read this before bed. 😂

*To Love And Be Loved By Me @sunflowerxbarnes » Eros! Bucky x Psyche! Reader — The story of Eros and Psyche was quite literally the stuff of legends. When he lost her to the perils of mortality, Eros too lost himself. He wandered the world, lost and alone until fate gave them another chance. Will things be different this time around? Can Eros find a way to save his love before it’s too late? | This will make you cry tears of sadness and tears of joy. I fell so madly in love with this and I knew it needed to be shared with you all. Keep tissues close by.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. | If there is someone I get excited about seeing post mob!bucky content it’s @angrythingstarlight and this one-shot was so good and the smut was hot! We are blessed with a part 2.

*Let Me Show You by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into show then tell. | Hi, yeah I needed to seriously cool down after reading this one. The smut is just really hot and I just don’t think I’ll ever be over this.

Drabbles:

*My Little Girl by @buckysnumberonegirl » Bucky Barnes x Mom!Reader — Bucky is the best man he could ever be not just for the woman he loves but for the little girl who captured her heart, and she has a big question to ask him. | This is just so fluffy and by the end I may or may not have shed a couple tears. Hormones y’all!

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky alway said, “ask and its yours” | This was so adorable and loving, I would highly recommend it. Fluffy!MafiaBoss!Bucky Barnes FTW 🙌🏻

(Mini) Series:

Run To You 🪙 Ch. 7 by @bestofbucky » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. | This keeps getting better and better, chapter 7, hit me in the feel whole the smut was just *chefs kiss* perfect.

Warm, Beating, and Frantic 🌸 Ch. 5 by @river-soul » Bucky Barnes x Reader — On vacation in Europe you’re kidnapped by a stranger who thinks only he can protect you from an unseen enemy known as Hydra. After months on the run, you finally escape. Years later you’re just starting to get your life back together when you accept a job at Stark Tower. The last thing you expect to see is your kidnapper, a part of the Avengers and going by the name Bucky Barnes. [PTSD and stalking] | You can’t help but feel so proud for the reader for going back to work and Bucky for going to therapy. Sam, he is just the best in this, so level headed. We could all use a Sam in our life. Please go read this!

Watch Out For The Quiet Ones Pt. 3 by @eurynome827 » Sub!CollegeJock!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Things have been going good with Bucky and you, so why put a label on it? Also been Bucky has been so good for you that you decide to reward him for his good behavior | I know not the best summery ever done by me but I love this series Eury had blessed us with. (it has a masterlist!)

Synonyms For Hate by @rebeccccccaaa » Bucky Barnes x Reader — A true enemies to lovers ;) | I don’t think you can find a better enemies to lovers stories than this one. It’s got both you angst and just a little bit of fluff. (I can’t make a link so here’s the big click through!)

Lee Bodecker

One-Shots:

Watching You by @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog » Lee Bodecker x Reader — Fresh to town opening your own café across from the police town, you peak the interst of Sheriff Lee Bodecker, who knows you are just hiding something, he will find out just what it is. | I loved this, especially the readers' take no shit attitude.

Chris Beck

One-Shots:

Dorothea by @tinymalscoffee » Chris Beck x Reader — In which Y/N reassured Chris he can always come back home to her. | You can never get enough of Chris Beck or Taylor Swift, so when you put them together, you get this beautiful masterpiece. I can’t help but hope we might see them again for another song, if not their story ended just perfectly.

*Constellations All Around by @hannahshattuck » Chris Beck x Gender Neutral Reader — The freckles on your back make constellations that always guide Chris home to you. | The smut and the plot in this were just too good not to share.

Chris Evans

Drabbles:

The Word by @hangonimwriting » Chris Evans x Mom!Reader — Married for now for six months your daughter calls Chris, Dad for the first time, how does he take it, and how does he take the big surprise you have for him? | This was short and sweet. Just what I needed after a very long day.

Ransom Drysdale

(Mini)Series:

Murder, He Wrote by @what-is-your-backupplan-today and @/southerngracela » Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader — You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… | I’ve had this on my need to read list for a while, I did read it and I just want more. The smut in this is good, you feel bad for Ransom, while still containing that dark fic feel throughout the fic so far.

Andy Barber

One-Shots:

To Build a Home by @river-soul » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader | Dreaming of becoming a mother through adoption, you finally concede defeat after a long two years. Devastated and alone, you let your guard down once your lawyer drops by to console you. [Stealthing, breeding, alcohol use and explicit sex, 18+] | If you are looking for something that will give you chills and has really good smut, this is the one for you. I sort of hope we get a follow up.

This Is A Shout To My...

Firefly’s Movie Challenge by @firefly-in-darkness — Due Date is August 31st, using characters from Marvel, Supernatural, The Witcher, Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, and Henry Cavill, prompts a are a list of movies and rules are in the link with the list.

Kinky Charlie Writing Challenge! Hosted by @hotdamnhunnam — Due Date is April 1st, using a multitude of Charlie Hunnam characters and different types of kinks in the list provided. Check out the link for all the details! Congrats hun on the 1K! You deserve it all! 💗