#i mean besides being covered in blood and shit i just thought he'd take care of that aspect

[citrine-elephant]

me: *trying to not go feral over tiny details, trying to play it cool and focus on that amazing ass story*

also me: they did my mans so dirty 

[dead-boys-club]

118 of kaku pleaseee

warnings:

a/n: good luck reading this, tbh

Slumped back against the wet brick wall, you couldn't help but groan at the ache that settled into your bones, it even took your mind off the grimey alley and blood that had ruined your attire. Your knuckles were raw and you were pretty sure seeing double wasn't a good thing but it hadn't been your first fight. You briefly wondered why you'd been jumped while on your date, glancing over to the two unfamiliar faces with furrowed brows.

Kakucho made his way over to slide down beside you, looking just as bad. 'Why did we make a 'no weapons during date night rule?' He mused before dropping his head back and looking over at you. You both looked pretty bad but you'd won none the less and he could still feel his heart beating in his throat, the sound of blood rushing in his ears along with some ringing. 'I love you, you know that?'

You rolled your eyes at the sudden confession, reaching over to weakly push at his arm. 'Great time to remind me,' you commented, head tilting to look over at him. Reaching out, you wiped away some of the blood at the corner of his lips, trying to take in the damage with your distorted view.

He hummed, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh, wincing at the slight pain in his chest. It wouldn't surprise you if a rib or two was out of place or fractured. 'I want to marry you,' he mumbled, his own hand raising to gingerly swat yours away, not wanting you to focus on how bruised up he was. It wasn't very often that Kakucho was bested, so he didn't want to make it a habit for you to see. He did find your confused expression and slow blinks amusing, however.

'Did you hit your head?' You asked, quite serious, trying to kneel up and check his head. Marriage wasn't exactly something that fit your lifestyle. Dating was fine, being together was fine but marriage? You'd also heard his musing about a family and the memory of that made your stomach drop a little. Did you really want to be raising a kid with your day to day jobs? You were getting ahead of yourself.

'What? No,' he began, catching your hands in his, not only to steady you but stop your little search mission, 'my head is fine and this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you.' The raven shifted around despite it not feeling all too great and felt around the pockets of his now ruined suit to eventually fish out a velvet box. Kakucho fumbled slightly but opened it, revealing the ring inside. 'That was.. kind of the point of going out tonight.. and, maybe sitting in an alleyway, covered in blood that isn't our own and sitting in God knows what isn't the best time but.. there's really no perfect time, is there?'

You were stunned silent. He was being serious and for a moment, you wanted to get up and disappear. It felt like you'd suddenly sobered up though your head and body still hurt but now you could see the flicker in his red gaze, hope and a lot of other emotions you couldn't name. 'You've.. You've been planning to do this..?' It wasn't an answer to his unspoken question but you couldn't help but overthink. Kakucho really wanted to marry you, he'd even gotten the ring and it wasn't adrenaline or a spur of the moment, stupid thought. He was sitting in front of you, waiting for you to answer.

Shit, he was waiting for your answer.

'I, uh..' You chuckled weakly, embarrassed at how long it had taken for it to even register, 'yes? I mean, yes! I'd.. I'd love to marry you, Kaku.' You wished you were feeling better, at least enough to tackle him to the ground and kiss him, but you'd save that for when it wasn't moist, nasty concrete beneath you. He smiled, the best be could, and took your hand to slide the ring on, careful of your bloodied knuckles.

'I love you,' he mumbled for the second time and as your lips parted to return it, your words were cut off by the sound of clapping.

'Congratulations, now get up before the cops get here.' It was a familiar tone and you both looked up to see Takeomi standing at the opening, gesturing you over. 'You can celebrate back at the penthouse.. these guys are going in for interrogation.' He pointed back to the car he'd arrived in, tipping his head. 'Go on. Should probably get checked out, too.'

You weren't too happy about being interrupted but you managed to get up none the less, ignoring the harsh popping sound of your knee and the way your bones felt like bricks. Kakucho followed, a few sounds just the same and you both hobbled to the car, climbing in with a few grunts and groans. You shot a 'thanks' out the window the older before settling down against the latter. 'Can we stay home for the next date night?' You asked, as playful as you could be, looking over to the raven.

'What? You didn't like getting our asses handed to us? You got a ring out of it,' he chuckled, reaching to weakly squeeze your thigh, 'indoor date night sounds fun.'

[tom-riddle-haunts-me]

Not a new chapter but a mini fic I felt like writing. I'm a little stuck with the "main story", so I hope you'll enjoy this little drabble. I'm warning you, this shit gets sad and ugly.

Abigail 🐍✨

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

Tw: angst, gore, blood

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

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

It Hurts

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean, Y/n? It's me, I'm... I'm Tom"

"I... I don't know you"

Tom stepped back. Locking eyes with you had never felt so terrifyingly unreal to him.

"Y/n..."

Why you? Anyone. Fate could've taken anyone away from him, but you?

"Oh, Mr Riddle!"

Dumbledore. He would've helped him.

"Professor! Y/n is actin-"

"-our biggest disappointment."

Another step back.

"Who is this, Professor?"

Your voice echoed heavily in his ears, crawling up to his brain and piercing through it like a long blade. A thin, cold metal string slowly lacerating his cerebral matter, a wicked torture that left behind nothing but an even colder nothingness and blood, too much blood. Tom could feel the thick crimson fluid run down his neck, anxiety taking hold of the sticky substance and guiding its goopy drips around his own throat, suffocating the tired wizard.

"Y/n, it's me, IT'S ME."

"Who are you?"

The sound that somehow managed to reach Tom was muffled and eerily calm, almost lifeless. It wasn't your voice. The figure standing in front of him, that was you, he knew it, but he was hearing something else rather than your voice. It was painful listening to such an abomination.

Grotesque. Putrid. Writhing. Cruel words pooling around him.

Far, far away.

"Who are you? Are you okay? You look pale"

As your hand reached his face, Tom couldn't bring himself to melt into your touch as he habitually would. Couldn't you see the blood?

"He's about to die, Y/n."

"Oh... Alone? Like this? I'm sorry"

"Y/n I'm... I'm not dying"

As the teacher withdrew your hand from his face, panic tightened the pressure around his neck. Oxygen was struggling to flow through his lungs, his organs protesting as they were starting to feel the lack of air.

It hurt.

"Can we save him?"

"Yes, but we won't"

"Okay"

Words were failing the usually composed wizard, hopelessly stuck in his guts. His eyes were fixated on his dearest friend, the only person in the entire world who could make him feel something else rather than just anger and bitterness. His loneliness felt a little warmer with her, his thirst for power a little less cruel, his fears a little more bearable. Sitting under their dead tree by the Black Lake was something that brought comfort to him in times of distress, still, it was hard to believe the ones staring at him were those same eyes, the e/c gems that he got used to see smile every time they were to meet with his. In the mean time, your hugs were crumbling into mere memories in the back of his mind and Tom felt powerless for the first time since forever. Now the orphanage would be cold and desolate again, silence would come back to fill his empty room and days.

He needed to stop. Stop thinking, feeling. He hated that. He hated you. He was embarrassed with himself for he shouldn't have perceived such stupid things.

His pale hand traveled to his petrified face.

Tears.

Rotten fury exploded in his stomach like an erupting volcano, resulting in an aberrant sickness disturbing his already devastated self. Now nothing had to matter, not anymore. Not your giggles, not you nervously playing with your hair. What would happen to your smile, the one you had promised was only his, had to be none of his business. Letting it go should've been easy, he knew far too well how to block out anything useless to his goal. His exhausted mind slipped to your now blank eyes, your toneless voice.

You body, barely covered by the white dress you were wearing, looked consumed by a melancholy he couldn't define, deep buried in your eyes, flat and washed-up as much as the pale fabric flowing around you.

His chest stung.

"Tom"

Dumbledore's skinny hand found its way to your shoulder, like a caring parent, yet it had an ugly something in it.

Tom thought about your tone, your real one. He thought about the times it had reassured him, soothed his nerves down. That one time it had slightly raised with boldness to defend him from Dumbledore himself. Your promises. They flowed back like a swollen river. The darkness in your eyes when you declared that you were to come for whoever ever dared to wrong him, now gone. How, how he would've liked to tell you about your beauty. Harmless to sight, dangerous to the reckless. Just like a rose.

His rose.

Twisted sparkles in your eyes, shadows that still felt warm and pure. Innocence.

Horror.

Terror drowned his heart, need overwhelming his confused mind.

Where were you?

Uncertainty danced under his skin.

Not enough. Was he? Evil could never bloom into a rose. Its fruits would rot and fall into darkness, dragging down every little drop of light they'd ever reach.

The hand that was touching you, he hated that. And now, now it was rotting, the meat melting right onto your oblivious self.

Bones.

"Yes, Y/n?"

His tears kept on running dow his face, the skin under the salty guilty stinging while stretching into the smallest, surrendered smile.

You had no idea who he was, didn't you?

Time slowed down in the most excruciating way right before Dumbledore's skin began to shed off of him like a used robe. Dirty, now useless, distressed.

Large wings spread through the thick air of the Dark Forest, Lady Death herself raising up behind Y/n, her delicate face was now painted with a content smile and peaceful tears, mimicking his own.

"It hurts"

Before Tom's mind could gave birth to any sort of though, the Hooded Dame slid back, his beloved rose obnoxiously secured to Her chest in a possessive way. And at the same time they backed away, the ground faded unhurried into nothingness. An abyss was now opening its jaws under Y/n's beaten body, and it started to swallow her whole in slow-motion.

Tom stood frozen, the cruelty of his condition giving him all the time in the universe to process Y/n's flesh breaking into bloody, gruesome chunks, her organs easily finding their way out of her abdomen, down, into the merciless void with a dreadful, wet moan.

Tom threw himself in the emptiness of your end, reaching for the parts of what his delirious mind hoped could be sewed up together again. Was is it losing you that drove him crazy?

Or did the seed of madness just finally bloom in his now blood covered hands?

When did they got stained with crimson?

"Why didn't you save me, Tom?"

"Tom?"

"Tom"

"Tom!"

<TOM!>

The Slytherin's dark eyes shot open only to find e/c ones stare right back at them, red and swollen by tears still freshly oozing down s/c skin.

<What the FUCK, Tom! I couldn't wake you up!>

You felt so broken to his ears. So stressed to his eyes. As your finally sweet tone caressed his hearing again, Tom still found it difficult to move. Reality was just starting to settle in, his brain still processing the gruesome images that'll be now forever carved in his mind. You were screaming at him, but he couldn't hear you.

He looked to the left.

His diary.

Tom was in his dorm room, again, his soulmate straddling him in the most innocent way.

Crying, shaking.

Were you angry at him?

<Malfoy came running in the common room and he was in panic and then I was in panic cause he told me that you wouldn't wake up and kept on screaming so I dashed here and I panicked again and what the fuck Tom, bloody hell I- >

Tom did not have sufficient energies to keep his cold act up. Time was not wasted, and his arms laced around you as fast as possible, bringing you as close to his chest as they could. He'd probably crush your bones at a certain point, still he knew none of you cared, not when you were squeezing him the same way.

<Don't you dare do it again, Riddle. You scared the life out of me.>

He was not aware of his muscles being that tense until that very moment. The second your skin collapsed into his, everything was swept away, like smoke in thin air. The room was empty, the clock on its wall claiming the dead of the night to be the time your scene was playing.

<Malfoy went to Black and Evergreen's room>

You didn't really need to say more. Your body just slipped on the mattress, right beside Tom, letting enough space for his worn out frame to curl up to it. Your fingers began to play with his locks, actually unusually sweaty and almost dry, nothing like his usually silky ones. You'd swear you could feel his shattered mind under your fingertips, if only it was possible you'd seek for its scars and heal them one by one.

If only it was possible.

<Y/n?>

Tom's breath slowed down gradually, just like his heart rate, lulled by the quiet tone you were humming.

<Yes, Tom?>

The clock was almost too loud, you were afraid its ticketing would disturb him. Was keep staring at it enough to silence the noise?

Drowsy murmurs left the young wizard's lips, falling in your lap like dead petals but failing to reach up to your ears.

<Come again?>

You bent over, just a little, at least enough to trace out his confused mutters. It reminded you of your days at the orphanage, when you both were too young and scared. It brought your mind back when Tom used to tell you his secrets, when you were his one and only. When he was still just Tom.

<What... What does it feel to jump into the void?>

H/c hair gently fell over your shoulders as your head found rest on the wall.

Air was cold against your now wet cheeks.

"Can we save him?"

"Yes, but we won't"

The steady rhythm of Tom's chest raising up and down told you he was finally long gone into a gentle slumber, safe from himself.

<It hurts>

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal

MASTERLIST

The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.

But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.

Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.

Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.

"What do you mean--"

"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."

He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.

"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."

Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.

"Why was Kohn even at her place?"

Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Or did you lure him there or something--"

"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."

"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."

Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.

"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.

"Help me get rid of him--"

"Jackson--"

"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."

Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.

"But--I--what about Cameron?"

"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.

She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.

But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.

Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.

Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.

"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.

Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.

"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.

"Okay--when do you need to do this?"

He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.

"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"

"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."

"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."

"And if Tara asks..."

A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.

"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."

Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.

She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.

And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.

This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.

Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.

He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.

"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."

Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.

"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."

"I'm gonna head home--"

"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.

Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.

"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."

Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.

"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"

"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."

Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.

Gemma just hummed, turning away.

She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.

"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."

"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.

That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.

Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.

But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.

"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."

Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."

"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."

"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.

Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.

"Gem?"

"Mhm?"

"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.

Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.

The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.

Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.

Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.

And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.

"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.

Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.

"You sound super Irish when you're mad."

"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.

Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.

She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"

"He was stalking Tara--"

"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."

"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"

"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."

His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.

"He was a bad guy. He had to die."

"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"

Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.

It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.

Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.

The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.

She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.

"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.

"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."

"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"

Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."

She was struggling to follow on.

It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.

"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"

"No. This is between us, and Tara."

Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.

"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."

Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.

"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.

The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.

Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.

But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.

"This is seriously fucked up."

"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.

Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."

She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."

He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.

Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.

Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.

"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"

"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."

"I know."

She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.

Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.

Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.

"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."

It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.

Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.

Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.

But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.

Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.

"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"

"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."

"Perfect."

It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.

Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.

She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.

They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.

It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.

He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.

"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.

She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.

Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.

"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"

She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.

Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.

Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.

She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.

And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.

It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.

Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.

"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"

She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.

"Isla--"

"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."

He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.

Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.

Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.

He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.

But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.

"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"

"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."

"Why would he hate you?"

"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."

In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.

"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.

She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.

"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"

"I wouldn't say you were sweet."

She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.

It was bittersweet.

Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.

Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.

Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.

Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.

"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.

Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.

"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."

Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.

Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.

The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.

But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.

"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."

[liibrii]

fem!Miya!reader x Ginjima Hitoshi & Akagi Michinari || part of the Third Miya series

Synopsis: It’s just a courage test. Just a nightly walk through a labyrinth of statues. Even the moon refuses to peek out from behind to clouds to witness your stupidity. Oh, did I mention there've been ghosts sighting here? There've been ghost sightings here.

Warnings: cursing, some spooky atmosphere, spooky things happen, some prime examples of sibling love

wc: 2.3k

a/n: should I post this chapter after the one establishing Reader's friendship with the team? Yeah, probably. also what I could do is write a little author's note that Reader is a friend with all the boys on the team and move on from there, ya know? 

In case you missed previous chapters, Twins call their sister San, while others simply refer to her as Miya. (I'm experimenting and trying to use y/n as little as possible. lemme know if you like it). 

if you wanna be tagged in future chapters lemme know and as always feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Nothing scared you.

Well, except Mr-No-Gaps Kita Shinsuke but you're pretty sure there isn't a being on this planet that wouldn't be afraid of him so that disqualifies him from this particular competition; or mom that one time she discovered nobody had taken the trash out even though she said to do it several times. And the dark sometimes. And ghosts! Ghosts are spooky. You can't punch a ghost

But other than that nothing scared you.

This nightly walk though is making you reconsider the statement. Maybe the time has come for you to put 'dark' and 'weird noises whose origin you can't see' to the top of the list. Shivers run up your spine and you step faster, closer to Ginjima beside you. He gives you a questioning glance but luckily doesn't say anything. You hope he won't mention it later either. The only thing worse than your brothers finding out what a scaredy cat you're being right now is... Well, nothing would be worse than that.

The Gallery Tangle is what this place is called and you find the name strangely fitting. Stone statues, some crumbling and all overgrown with moss, stand lined by the path going in twists and turns. No matter where you turn cold unseeing eyes watch you. If you were the one choosing the name for this place it would be something along the lines of 'that corner nobody in their right mind would ever go close too'. Some people believe it used to be a cemetery but really it's just a meadow where someone left an unwanted statue once, and then another, and before you knew crowds of curious tourists and stupid teenagers visited the place all the time. Even the moon refuses to peek out from behind to clouds to witness your stupidity. Oh, did I mention there've been ghosts sighting here? There've been ghost sightings here.

So naturally it's the perfect place for a courage test. The only one at fault for this entire situation is Osamu for daring Akagi and Ginjima to go visit the site, and you for falling for his trap when he turned to you and, with that annoyingly sweet voice pretending he's a caring older brother who's just looking out for his little sister, said: “Thank the heaven yer too much of a baby to go out of the house after sunset.“

Yeah well, maybe you are and he knows it, and he also knows the easiest way to get you to do something is to tell you you don't have the guts. It's all a well tested trap you keep falling into. Walking amongst countless silent statues you want to ponder how the mice traps are always so obvious and yet the mice keep falling for them like dummies, but that would be a silly thought to have in the middle of the night and taking your current circumstances into consideration also incredibly hypocritical.

Nothing much scared you, except for Kita Shinsuke, but if you were given a chance to get help from one person right now you'd chose him. As much as the mere thought of him makes you straighten up and check if your clothes are on point you're sure ghosts and demons and other creatures of the night would rethink once or twice before coming closer to bother you. Not to be rude but he'd probably be a better ghost repellent than trembling Ginjima beside you who at the moment is being more of a ghost attractor. Can ghosts sense fear? Apparently even horses can smell fear so why would ghosts be any different? Maybe better for that question to go unanswered.

“Are ya sure we're goin' in the right direction?“ asks Gin.

“Maybe.“

“Akagi-san ya do know that's not the answer we wanna hear right now, right?“

“I'm yer senpai so I can't lie to ya,“ answers Akagi and you wish he wasn't your senpai so you could give him the well deserved kick in the shin. As Osamu would put it, getting a straight answer out of him was sometimes harder than eating udon noodles with only one chopstick. Your smart-ass replied with 'Just drink them', which was a funny response at the time, a justifiable enough reason for Osamu to slap your head, but in the end this solution didn't really apply to the libero. “We're takin' a little detour to avoid inhabitants of this place,“ Akagi says and if you didn't know him better you'd think his words were meant to reassure you.

“Ya mean the statues? I don't think they really mind us trespassin'.“

“Ah no, not the statues.“ He turns and points his torch up to light up his face. “I meant ghosts.“

“Ha ha, very funny,“ you say pretending a shiver didn't just run up your spine. Your hold on your own torch tightens.

“Skepticism doesn't suit ya Miya. There's a ghost of a little boy hidin' round here. Ever since his old house was demolished he walks around lookin' for his parents.“

“Sure he does,“ you answer and quickly change the topic because if Akagi doesn't stop you're sure Gin will climb in your arms and the question if you're strong enough to carry him is another one you don't want to know the answer to. “Where did Samu say he left the scarf?“

When Ginjima answers his voice is strangely high pitched: “By the statue of an old lady with a cat.“

Akagi nods. “We should split up so-“

“No!“ you and Ginjima half yell.

“We could get lost,“ you add, feeling heat rise on your cheeks.

“Exactly,“ Ginjima agrees, “look how many statues there are! It's a labyrinth 'round here!“

Akagi gives in without much convincing with a gleam in his eyes you really don't like because it looks suspiciously similar to the gleam Atsumu has before blackmailing you with one of too many embarrassing things he knows. “Right, right, last time I was here the cat lady was on the other end.“

“Was?“ Ginjima follows close behind and you're just glad to have you back covered.

“Statues move sometimes. Usually when no one is lookin'.“

“Funny,“ is all you say.

Still, as you continue the expedition you don't let your gaze wander around. It's not like you could see anything anyway. It's too dark! At least that's what you keep telling yourself. Anything could hide out there.

You shudder. Why did you think it was a good idea to leave without taking a hoodie? As if summer nights aren't chilly. Or maybe you just walked past a cold spot where ghosts linger. Now that sounds like something Akagi would tell you.

You're acutely aware of how close Ginjima is walking and you're glad he is. His shoulder bumping into yours every now and then and the sound of his steps are the last things keeping you from letting your imagination run free.

That's the thing about imagination. It makes the pile of unfolded clothes look like a child crawling out of the floor. It makes sitting stone statues seem to blink and turn their heads when you pass by.

When you nervously glance over at Ginjima you notice he's clenching his jaw so hard you start fearing for his teeth. He puts you at ease. As much as that is possible while walking in the dead of night around seemingly endless line of statues. If he was as carefree as Akagi you would, all your foolish pride be damned, most likely burst into tears right then and there.

The nearby bushes rustle and maybe it's just the wind, or a cat on a nightly adventure, or maybe it's something entirely different, but whatever it is lures you into making the mistake of looking over at the statues, where you catch a pale face with unblinking eyes behind long, black hair staring back at you. You scream. Jump, trip over a stone and end in Ginjima's arms, your ears ringing from the high pitched shriek you presume is his.

Akagi jumps too and points his torch around to see what made both of you finally lose the brave facade. He searches around the statues but there's nothing to be found. “It's gone now.“

“Ya sure?“

“What was it?“

“A white face and... black hair.“

“So, a ghost?“ asks Akagi and you nod, holding tightly on Gin as if your life depended on it. A sly smile spreads across Akagi's face. “See, I told ya there's ghosts.“

“Not helpin' ,“ says Gin as Akagi's words make you shudder.

Only then does it hit you Ginjima is holding you bridal style and you swiftly climb back down, still shaken and now completely embarrassed as well. You don't even dare think how much bribing will take to convince Akagi to keep his mouth shut about this. Oh, if your brothers find out they will never let you live it down.

“Maybe we should go home,“ suggests Ginjima still holding you up because your knees turned to pudding.

“Like hell we are,“ you sneer, the blood rush turning fear into burning determination. If this is what it takes to shut Samu's annoying shit mouth, then so be it. “Cat lady, right? I bet she's this way.“ You pick up your torch light and head into the wrong direction.

“Miya, we have to go right,“ Akagi calls after you.

“I am goin' right!“

“The other right.“

You turn on your heels and head into the 'other right' direction. You think you hear Akagi snicker. Step by step your sudden burst of determination and fearlessness drains but like hell are you going to show it. It's just ghosts and spooky demons and maybe some cursed children, what are they going to do? Scare you? Joke's on them, you're already scared! And cold, and embarrassed, and you just want to find that damn scarf already and go home.

It waits neatly wrapped around the cat's neck. It's eyes have an almost mocking look. As if the stone is judging you for taking on this courage test in the first place. Well, you think, it ain't wrong.

“There, now we can go,“ you proclaim when your trembling fingers finally manage to unknot the silky fabric, and as if some cruel fate or inhabitants of this eerie place watched you only a few statues away something rustles.

All three of you freeze and listen. In the distance you can hear cars driving by. A late night train stops by the station.

“What was that?“ asks Gin.

You stuff the scarf into your pocket. “Doesn't matter, we got what we-“

“Let's go check it out!“

“O hell no,“ is the first thing that leaves your mouth but for some reason Akagi thinks it's a sunny Sunday afternoon and the perfect time for a stroll.

“Let's go,“ Gin nudges you to get you to follow Akagi but you don't budge.

“No.“

“He's our senpai Miya, we can't just let him wander off.“ He lowers his voice. “He might get in trouble.“

“Let him. I've had enough of this place,“ you say and head into the opposite direction. Ginjima hesitates, casts a few lost glances between you and Akagi before he decides the prospect of something happening to you would get him into much bigger trouble. “Are ya okay?“ he asks when he catches up.

You give a stiff nod. All you want is to get away from this place.

It doesn't take long for Akagi to come running back. “It was nothin',“ he says, out of breath and smiling as always but if you'd pay more attention you'd notice he's a bit paler.

And you are about to find out why.

A white figure appears from behind one of the statues, howling and shrieking, or maybe that's Akagi and Ginjima. Your heart stops for a mere moment before jumping into overdrive. You grip your torch, step back with one leg to gain momentum, and chuck your only source of light into what you guess is ghosts head.

“Aargh!“ shrieks the ghost before it starts screaming its lungs out at you, “Are ya stupid?! Ya could've hurt me ya shithead!“ It pulls the sheet off to reveal a very irritated Atsumu rubbing his forehead where the torchlight hit him. “OW!“ he shrieks again when you kick his shin. You'd probably kick him again for good measure if another figure, this one clad in black and with an oni mask, didn't jump from behind the statues and scare you into leaping in the air. The figure laughs and avoids the kick aimed at it's knee. “Samu!“ you shriek. “This isn't funny!“

“It is a little,“ says Akagi and to his luck he's your senpai and standing out of your reach. At least Ginjima doesn't look amused by your utter embarrassment.

In an effort to regain some of your pride you pull out the scarf and chuck it into Osamu's face. “Here, yer kitchen cloth.“

“San don't speak about mom's clothes like that,“ teases Atsumu who at the stare you send him immediately takes a careful step back.

Osamu pinches your cheeks and not even a death glare stops his teasing: “Maybe ya ain't such a baby after all. But ya do scream like one.“

“Absolutely hilarious,“ you deadpan. “Who was the white faced lady? Suna?“

“What white face?“

“Don't play with me ya shit pig. The one that almost gave Gin a heart attack!“

“Ya screamed louder than me-“

“That wasn't us,“ your brothers shake their head. You don't believe them because, why would you?

Akagi bursts into laughter. “Maybe ya saw a real ghost after all!“

A... a real... ghost. The rest of you exchange uncomfortable glances.

Gin is the first to speak. “It's gettin' a little chilly. Maybe we should,“ he gestures towards the path, and you nod, enthusiastically.

“It is gettin' late. We'll hear it if we come home past curfew,“ says Osamu.

Walking away you don't want to look back but something compels you to throw a quick glance over your shoulder. Wide unblinking eyes stare as you leave, face ghostly white and almost glowing in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's just your imagination.

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash @megumiisee @foxxtrot-116​

in case you’re curious, Gallery tangle is based on a real life Statue village in Japan.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

Author note: Mention of drugs, sickness and blood (if you're not comfortable with it don't read it) . It mighty be heart warming fluffyyyyyy.

You're his kitten. No matter the consequences you're. Cause even in his anger sometimes (which's rare and it's on the silly go-to's) he still sticks to that pet name because he met you like that under the bus stop's shelter in a heavy rain offered you an umbrella (while you were huffing and puffing like a kitten annoyed with the weather), walked you home, had a tea with you and some chocolate chip cookies. Been bestfriends from that year and there isn't a red light to your guys wild adventures—but he's been having a rough time recently. Had a cruel heart shattering breakup from a relationship that he thought was a never ending dream (she brought him happiness in a weird way he couldn't put into words) indeed it tightened your chest but his happiness's most important to you. To overcome it he's been scribbling notebooks over notebooks with lyrics that screams he miss her and the sex for the most part of it. It breaks your heart.

He's usually the one to melt all over you, give you forehead kisses, cuddles you when your periods are the bitchiest, makes you brekkie if he stays a night, runs you a bath and sometimes brings you pomegranate berried candles (he lies that he got them as a gift, he's one hell of a liar). He takes care of you with so much gentleness and helps you with study after wiping your tears and reassuring you telling you how proud he's of you. It made you guilty sometimes 'cos if you'd be in camille's place. . .you'd never be able not to get jealous. She was cool with it. Fills you with another curiosity that maybe she treated it like a fling.

He was devastated. Knocking on your door feebly. Then the moment your small confused body was under his weary gaze, boom!! It crashed upon him like a pitch storm and he fell to his knees tucking his head in your armpit crying his heart out. At that moment you felt his pain radiating to you and twisting your own stomach with a dagger, it was insufferable. He gave out no-deep scrapes but not to freak your bones muttered that he lost her. Eventually his bottled up emotions seeped into hues infront of you by passing week and to your littlest of information you got to know that they didn't ended up well in some perspectives so their relationship turned out to be a downfall. So As, you do with your girlie best-friend when she have a breakup you did it with Harry too. It didn't included feral clubbing (you left that part to his mates) but watching sappy movies that could fill your ice-cream bucket once you eat it whole, doing homemade face masks, playing drunk uno and knocking on your neighbours door to run way at last, dragging his arse to museum and in all of this you ended up convincing him to adopt a kitty (she lives with you thou).

The roles have been reversed completely!

He's been living at your flat for five weeks now. It's fading his usual cheekiness and the itch to annoy you every second he gets. Instead, it's just eating, spending bits of hours with you, going out with his mates and coming back to crash at your couch padding in your room in the wee of night demanding a warm coddle from you and that his back hurts from the cruelty of that single spring popping from the leather, staying with him when he'd wrench his stomach out in the morning. He's sensitive. His heart's soft that's one of the reason he gets hurt real quick, you admire that about him and reminds him that it's one of his qualities you're totally in love with. You're gentle with him. Giving him space and time to recover. Going with him at his friend's birthday little get together not drinking at all knowing one would have to stay sober as he chugged red wine staining his hawain shirt and when he clumsily poked his pink tongue out lazily to reach for the cigarette in her hand you tugged him back into you before he'd burn his tongue with sparkles announcing it's time to head back home and he'd be a pain in arse (a beautiful one though because his antics makes you all mushy) when he pretended to steal sandwiches from the table hiding them under his shirt saying that "'m pregnant with twins and it's hard to carry them" while you dragged him outside making him wear his coat like a stubborn toddler. Making him cupcakes sometimes, playing with his fluff of curls while he reads the book she gave him. It hurts. But, it subsides down with his single amiable glance that tells you he needs you. He always had. He always will. You give him extra forehead kisses and pecks on cheek while leaving for UNI, because it's irresistible to give dust to his pouty sulk.

It's seven in the morning when he tumbled through your door (has a key, you even brought his clothes and toothbrush from his house—he even uses your strawberry scented shampoo and body wash) his nose tip blushed matching his cheeks, eyes pooling with haze and hair poking in every direction. You were studying for a class you've in an hour. When you saw his irirses blown out you arched your brow putting the cup down beside your thick book, to mingle his sadness he's experimenting different fun wild things (told you bout it and you even called Mitch to take care of him).

"How many am I, pet?" You asked walking towards him seeing him struggle to get out of his vans and your giggles echoed into coldness when he peers down at your crouched state with his gold fish-y eyes, "dunno. . . but ye'r seem like. .like a-a sunflower floatin' in me head." His lips molding around his each word agonisingly slow drawl and his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You need rest, bambi." You got him out of his jeans and socks knowing he despises to sleep with layers on. "I'll be back with you in some hours. Hmm? Then we'll snuggle into blankets, you me and. . .salsa the pussy cat." You have to control your laugh everytime you take the kitty's name (Harry's worst at giving names you were horrified when he once joked that he loves chelsea boots so much he could name his daughter Chelsea) He whines at that nodding his head but not loosening his grip from around your wrist while you tucked him under your baby green patch work quilt. It's like his brain and heart can't decide how to choose.

On your way back you got Jeff's call asking why Harry isn't picking his phone his own voice resembling that of Harry's and you know he'd be looking shit at the time. Harry was still snoring out like a bulb in bright day on his tummy and you shook him gently at first but when he didn't woke up you had to be a bit harsher. "Harry wake up pet. . . Jeff's been calling ye for since." But, not even a hum in response so you placed your finger under his nose checking if he's even alive. Gratefully he was just sleeping like a literal corpse (he argues that he isn't that bad of a sleeper but in fact he is. Everything around him would burn down and he wouldn't even change a side).

It was seven in the evening when you were preparing for dinner when he woke up grumpy. His nose scrunched up, lips quirked up as if he tasted something yucky and his gait jello. You eyed him quietly even when he came in kitchen to drink water.

"Jeff was callin'. . ." You quipped stirring the veggies before pouring soup into a bowl and sliding it his way on the counter, "I know bombarded me phone with calls—" He gruffed spooning a mouthful and you flinched when he tried to cool it inside his mouth with "hawahhoohaha" little sounds (he knew it was hot, he's just an impatient leech).

"Stop being a gremlin. He told me ye' aren't writing, leaving everything like a cliffhanger neither you're attending the meetings he calls you at. . . I think you're done with your mourning it's time to do what you actually love and is there for you. Your music." You frown seriously trying to put some senses into his forever high brain. He drops the spoon back and dips his brows frustratedly, pinching his eyes shut.

"Fuckin' hell. Stop being my mama!" It's not the first time you guys are arguing and you're not gonna take it to heart. You stood up towering him and jabbing your finger to his chest, "you better stop filling your system with drugs before eighteen year olds come to you thinking you're a drug dealer—" He snickers at that a total mocking one (you know he's doing nothing hard it's just shrooms in the safe environment otherwise you'd have never never allowed him) but still you had to bring him back to his line so it was necessary. "Piss off." He mutters still slurping on his soup and you left him there with a loud smack on his head, "Wanker."

You care about him. Always did. Always will. He's the love of your life. Even your love has nourishment of just water and lacks sunshine from your sun it's still there into existence, how could you see him like this? Wasting his precious time and energy. It's impossible.

All you heard before going to deep slumber was the tinsy creak of your main door after that it was silent and darkness until now your phone buzzed under your pillow resonating Niall's tired words. You were a wreck havoc fumbling for your coat and wallet, covering pathway to tube with shivering legs hallucinating that everyone's eyeing your fiddly self with judgemental stare even though there're few.

You rushed to Niall's doorsteps knocking like a maniac, "where's he? Is he okay? told ye—" You pushed him aside marching inside to look for him. "He looked fine, he's a strong guy y/n they took him to hospital." You snaps your neck raising your brows.

"What the fuck, d'ya mean hospital!?" Your heart hammering in her ribcage overthinking the worst scenarios. "Take me there. right. fuckin' now." You tell him firmly not caring even if he's high too. Niall leads you to his car heating it up in the first beat taking glances of your petite body leaning against the glass with lips sucked in, eyes watered and legs constantly on bounce so placed his hand atop your knee giving you reassuring squeeze and a genial smile.

Your pink cheeks warming up with the heat of hospital radiating your way and loud growl left your chest when your blurry vision cleared to the sight of dishelved Harry sitting on the bench outside of ER, his irirses weary, mouth stuffed with cotton and has few scratches of rashes on his elbows otherwise he's fine. With each step of yours towards him something kept breaking inside you like you're walking on the nails and it's ripping you raw. He raised his head timidly hearing footsteps and when his eyes fell over your worried state panic flashed over his features and his only gaze turned you a puddling emitting heavy sobs within you before reaching towards him. The reality of situation dawning upon you because from what Niall told you in the car that they were high trying to have some fun, drove around neighbour hood and Harry jumped out of the window and bit his tongue between his teeth resulting in heavy bleeding a deep gnash (the fuckin' dumbstick he is).

"I hate you. I hate you so fuckin' much! you bastard." You tried to shout at him but the voice that came out of your mouth was that of mice as you threw harsh blows at his chest, bottom lip jutting wet and salty tears tricking down. He wraps his hand around your wrists ushering you closer down to his chest speaking muffled, "'orry." causing you to grunt angrily into the crook of his neck.

"Sorry my ass!" When you tried to pull back he tightened his hold round your neck snuggling you warmly to him with a hum. Jeff came back with medicines and when he parted his lips to speak in his defence you ignored him wiping your tears with the heel of your palms muttering a, "I hate you guys." The drive back was silent and the walk to your flat too, you passed by him to lock yourself into your room (you wouldn't because of the fact you wouldn't be able to sleep if not sure he's okay few feets away from you). When Harry attempted to roll his tongue to make some words nothing came out but a hiss making you spin, "'s okay we'll speak in the mornin'." Saying this you headed to bed and when you were bout to turn the lamp off he was lurking at the foot of your bed with a pillow in his arms smushing his face into it and squeezing it close to his chest gesticulating you that he wants a cuddle.

"Only 'cos y're adorable." You muttered moving your bum to make space for him suppressing your cooe when he grinned showing nothing but snow cotton, fuckin' hell being this cute should be illegal! He snapped his finger to call Salsa and she instantly galloped to shrink into his side while you spooned him. You woke up to the running tap and the time you were stretching under your quilt with yawns he padded out looking healed than last night.

He got a little lisp as he spoke, "can we talk?" You nodded knuckling at your sticky eyes criss-crossing your legs. "'Forgive me kitten." He continues, "sorry fo' mistreatin' ye' last night." You shake your head not realizing tears are dropping down your collarbones.

"Please. . .I don't wanna be a party-pooper in your life. you can live your life to finest but not at the sake of your life Harry– and. . . and if you're trying to invade the feelin' of sadness with all of this I don't approve it. What bout me? dunno what'll do if somethin' will happen to you, pet. S'not fair to me. is it? Just. . . love y—" your confessions cameflouging with sobs.

"Oh baby. ." He immediately cradled you in his embrace trying to soothe you with 'sorrys' and 'I'll never do somethin' like that again, promise'. Smooching slobery kisses all over your face and when you gazed up at him attracting him closer to your clean warm features all he did was peck the corner of your lips tenderly pulling away to pat your hair with a sigh.

"So. . .ye' love me." He teased you and you rolled your eyes grabbing his chin with your fingers, "show me your tongue." biting down your laugh when he retorted misheviously, "hmm. Wanna kiss it better?" Blowing him off with a remark that he's an utter pervert hiding the fact it splashed crimson to your neck.

"Mind makin' me poor self some brekkie?" He pouts and you giggled pecking the corner of his burgundy lips getting a timid smile in return, "in trade of?" He hip-checked you straddling Salsa over his shoulder and grabbing her little paws to expertise her in some dancey-dance moves.

"Mind bloggin' orgasm–ique dinner." He cackled loudly at the end when you shook your head in fake disappointment at him and he clinged by your side helping you to make some breakfast.

Think so you guys will figure it out.

[devinescribe]

Found You

Part 8 to '100 Promises'

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: swearing, I think that's it

"Oh shit... agh, brainfreeze," you cursed, holding your head. It was a hot summer afternoon, and you had decided to get ice cream with Niragi. "Dumbass," he laughed, watching you groan in pain. You glared at him, the pain going away. "Fuck off," you said, going back to slowly licking at the ice cream. He shook his head, laughing slightly.

He made his way through the hole in the wall. No, it wasn't a hallway, a literal hole in the wall. It went through and led into the kitchen. He had found out about it once when he saw Last Boss come out of it during one of his patrols. He followed it, and saw were it lead. By process of elimination he had narrowed down the other player of the game to be Last Boss. So, in a general assumption, he assumed you would be in the kitchen. It was dark as he made his way through it, hoping to get out of it as soon as possible. It gave him a bad feeling. Why was there a random hole in the wall leading to the kitchen? It seemed awfully strange to him. Like something out of a horror game when the monster jumps out to attack you. "Oh hell no, damn my thoughts straight to hell," he cursed, walking faster through the tunnel.

Finally, he was at the entrance to the kitchen. It was covered up by a couple things, but, he managed. When he did he heard you giggling about something.

"You know, I think this was a great idea," you giggled, nibbling on one of the cookies. "I know of quite a few places to hide if you ever need one. It can get... loud... hectic... and chaotic here," Last Boss responded. You smiled. You were about to bite the cookie again, before arms were around you. In the moment, you panicked, grabbing the person back and flipping them onto their back. You quickly grabbed the knife you'd picked up earlier, pointing it them, before noticing it was Niragi. You let out a relieved sigh. "Ow... that hurt," he groaned, sitting up, holding the back of his head "Sorry. Don't sneak up on me like that," you said. He smirked. "That makes 1,853 games of hide and seek in a row I've won. 8 year winning streak," he bragged, obviously over getting hurt. "Oh go fuck yourself, you whore," you insulted, flipping him off, sticking your tongue out. You turned to Last Boss and smiled. "It was nice hiding with you," you said. Said man was confused on how you kept switching between your emotions so quickly. "Oh... uh, it was nice... hiding with you too, I guess," he responded. You laughed, holding a hand out to Niragi. He grabbed onto you, and you helped him up. "See, I'm a bitch, but at least I'm just a bad bitch, not a heartless bitch," you laughed. He smiled a bit. Standing in the kitchen with you talking, the warmth. Even Last Boss was talking to you. Everything about it felt like home. Home felt like you. Home felt like the feeling he got whenever he was with you. Maybe it was because you were home.

He watched as you talked avidly with Last Boss. You two seemed to get along, which was good. "Shit, it's already 12 am? Don't we have a supply run thingy tomorrow?" You questioned, finally noticing the time. "Uh... yeah," Niragi responded. "At least were not drunk... then Aguni might have a problem," Last Boss said. Both men shuddered, remembering what had happened last time. "Ooh, spill!" You said, sitting on top of one of the counters. Last Boss shook his head, and Niragi looked away. "Was it that bad?" You asked, a smirk building it's way across your face. "One thing you'll notice about Aguni is... he's like... a military dad. He's strict, but also doesn't care at the same time? But there's rules. And since there's few rules, it's not like you can forget. So... yeah," Niragi explained. "Can't wait to actually meet this man and see if you guys are exaggerating," you giggled. "Alright, get off the counter so we can go to your room," Niragi sighed, stretching his arms. "Carry me?" You asked, hiding your laughter. "Last time you said that, we both fell down the stairs," he reminded, rolling his eyes. "That's because you have weak noodle arms you lanky bitch," you said, laughing. "Ahahahaha fuck you."

You three finally made your way up the stairs. "So, does everyone just... party the whole night?" You asked, seeing as there was no on really in the lobby, but you could still hear the heavy bass of the loud music playing outside. Niragi nodded. "Fun for them, annoying for those who actually try to sleep," Last Boss commented. It was really just a paradise for people. A safe haven for players. And why wouldn't it? There's protection, other people, food, supplies, electricity. Anything you could want or need was at the Beach. It was curious how they managed to put it all together. So well thought out.

"Well... goodnight," you said, opening the door to your new room. "I'll wake you up tomorrow. By any means necessary," he stated, disappearing into his room. You sighed, closing the door behind you. It felt the same, but it was different. You knew that it would be hard to adjust, but a part of you had already adjusted. Maybe it was the years of torture through your childhood, or the things you put up with in your day to day life, but this didn't feel weird at all. It felt... normal. Besides the games, no negatives were really made clear to you. So, what was so bad about being here? It seemed better than your normal life. You sighed, shaking your head. You shouldn't be thinking like that, your life before was just fine with Niragi. You thought you had lost him. But, then you found him here. So even in places of despair and chaos, you could find a silver lining. "Ick... that sounds cheesy," you muttered, getting under the covers of the bed. The second you laid down, all the pain in your body was alleviated. The pillows were cold under you, the bed soft. You let out a satisfied sigh. If this was what staying at the Beach was like, you wouldn't mind. But, you also couldn't let yourself fall into that mentality. Your eyes drooped slowly, sleep taking over your body.

"And how was your date?" You asked as soon as he walked into through the door. "We never speak of her again," was all he said with a groan. "Goddamn, that bad? What did she do?" You questioned, as he walked over to the couch, sitting besides you. "Well, at first, she was ok. Then she immediately went into the topic of money, which like big red flag, but I didn't care. Right after we started talking about friends and family. I brought you up, and she was all like 'no, you see, that's not going to work because I have to be the only special girl in your life' and I was like, well... jealous much? I don't know who hurt her but it's... ugh," he groaned. Niragi had never been interested I'm dating per se. He didn't have any interest in anyone all throughout high school, which was one of the reasons people thought you two were together. "What about you? How'd it go?" He asked. "Not great. He was narcissistic, misogynistic, and rude. Like... 'women belong in the kitchen' kind of misogyny. God it was horrible. A total incel of a boy," you explained, shaking your head. "Looks like we both have trouble with dating, hm?" He said, leaning his head back, staring up at the ceiling, following the cracks in them. He'd always suggested you two move, especially with the occupation both of you had, you could afford to move somewhere else. You'd always tell him to wait a couple years because you never know what could happen. You had always said, "What if you meet the person of your dreams and decide to move in with them?" He never thought much about having someone else. It was always (Y/N) and Niragi against the world. It seemed weird to his mother last time she had called to ask about that. He'd told her the same thing. "No one really... interests me. No one ever has."

Now, his mother was a person who changed herself for the better. She had never had the courage to leave her husband, his father, however. She observed her son's behavior, and asked him something that really made his mind question itself. "Do you think no one interests you... because you like (Y/N)? In a more than friend way, I mean." He had never thought about that. At all. He had only ever known kindness from you, and his mother later in life. So, did he? He couldn't have. It would be wrong, wouldn't it? To insinuate such a thing to you?

Screaming, heat, fires, crumbling debris all around you fell. The smoke and ash heavy in the air. " 'Ragi?! What's going on?!"

Shattered glass stuck onto your arms, blood dripping onto the asphalt. "You can't leave me... you can't, not again!"

Wake up.

"(Y/N), you can't leave me now..."

"I can! What the hell made you think that was ok!"

Wake up.

"You're bleeding!"

"No shit Sherlock. It's called getting shot. Somehow, I just can't seem to die."

"Don't fucking say that!''

Wake up.

"Oi! Wake up!"

"Don't leave me-! What the hell? What's going on?"

"It's time to wake up. We have a supply run to do.''

[b-lissfulthinking]

makeshift truce [ jacob seed ] | 1,520 words

"Judging by your face, I'd say your day was just as bad as mine." Rook laughed humorlessly, as she pushed open the heavy cabin door to see none other than Jacob Seed sitting at the small table with a bloody rag tightly wrapped around his leg.

“Maybe worse. Sit down.”

Rook limped forward to the table as she held her arm, falling into the seat across from Jacob with a groan of pain. Rook watched silently with a careful eye as they fell into the same old routine, Jacob pulling supplies from the small first aid kit seemingly at home on the table, this being the fifth time the two had descended on the small abandoned building in the last few weeks.

The first time Rook burst through the door, bullet wound in her leg bleeding and wind knocked from her lungs, she was like a deer in headlights. Patching up his own injuries at the kitchen table, she thought that Jacob had found her little hiding spot away from both the chosen and the Whitetails, and was there to finish the job his soldiers couldn't over the past month Rook had been running around the mountains.

But when she saw the blood seeping through the green camo of his shirt, she knew that killing her wasn't the first thing on his mind, for now.

She doesn't know what drives her, apart from the searing pain in her leg, to sit down beside the man who's been playing sadistic cat and mouse with her for weeks, but despite her better judgment, she collapses unceremoniously into the dining chair beside him anyway.

Ignoring her own injuries, Rook eyes Jacob almost as closely as he eyes her, both of them silent as they assessed the threat level they were both facing.

Jacob had seen Rook in action, up close and from a distance, both being experiences that made him proud of his little prodigy. Rook however had only ever heard stories of the great Jacob Seed, mostly from his brother John as she sat tied up in his bunker with a tattoo machine near drowning him out.

Rook knew the bullet went straight through the graze in her leg, but looking at Jacob as he faded from consciousness, she knew he hadn't been so lucky.

She was almost insulted looking at him, with his own eyes beginning to sway as his condition worsened.

After all of the stories, all of the conditioning, the tormenting, and one little bullet from someone else's gun was gonna be the thing to take him out?

Rook kept an eye on him as she rolled up the leg of her pants, throwing her foot up on another seat to try and help the blood flow slow slightly as she snatched the first aid kit from his side of the table, taking the antiseptic, bandage, and fasteners, and treating her own injuries first.

But, once the graze was cleaned and secured, Rook scooted her seat around to sit in front of Jacob, a line of confusion creasing between his eyebrows.

Eyes watching his the whole time, looking for any sign of hostility, Rook wrapped her hand around Jacob's wrist, pulling his hand that had been applying pressure away and letting it drop to his lap.

Taking a fresh rag and some antiseptic to the wound, Jacob took a sharp breath in between his teeth, watching as Rook pulled tweezers from the bag and looked to him for a moment before hesitating, grabbing the roll of bandage from the table after a second thought and handing it to him.

"Bite." She says quietly, not quiet expecting him to listen to her.

After a moment of consideration, Jacob takes the bandage and puts it between his teeth, Rook immediately digging into his shoulder as she looks away from his face for a moment to find the bullet lodged inside him.

Even more surprisingly, he barely makes a sound as she digs through his flesh, carefully pulling out the bullet and throwing it over her shoulder before taking the roll of bandage from his mouth, knowing she'd have to tie it because the six fasteners were on her leg.

She couldn't be too nice to him, after all.

Jacob knew pain like the back of his hand, but at the feather light touch of Rook moving his shirt to wrap the bandage around the quite frankly awkwardly placed injury, and ghosting across his skin, he held his breath.

That was, until she pulled back, throwing what was left back into the first aid kit.

"Why?" Jacob asked simply and quietly, as Rook stood on shaky legs.

"If anyone's killing you, it's gonna be me." She said plainly, grabbing a bag of gear from under the bed in the corner and leaving Jacob slumped at the table, silently disappearing into the hills.

Now, they sat at that table once again, Room's arm sitting on the table between them as Jacob's steady hands pierced the needle through her skin once again, expertly sewing up the wound that she sustained from one of the Chosen who had caught her with his blade.

Not many words were exchanged between the two in these situations, but with the makeshift truce in place, Rook spoke quietly.

"You sew better than the last person that fixed me up."

Jacob's eyes stay focused on his work, moving her arm slightly to better position her.

"Must'a been a shit nurse, huh." He responds, more as a statement than a question.

"He tried his best, still got the scars to prove it though. He's a better pilot than a nurse." Rook explained shortly, flinching as yet another knot was tied.

"Pilot?"

"Former air force. Him and I both left at the same time to join the police."

She sat there silently, waiting for him to put the pieces together as he moved three more stitches down her arm.

"I would kill Peaches if he tried stitching me up."

Rook can't help herself, sending a small smirk in his direction as she recalled sewing up a knife wound on his leg two meetings prior.

"That your way of saying I'm special?"

"It explains how you stole my plane." Rook finches as Jacob ties a knot extra tight compared to the others, pulling the subject away from the jokingly flirtatious wink she sent his way.

"Ah, your plane was step one." Rook smiles teasingly, remembering the look on Nick's face as she and Sharky pulled up at his airstrip in the shining red Pack Hunter, "Step two is stealing your heart."

"You know," Jacob raised his eyes from her arm to stare straight into hers, Rook's breath catching because of the close proximity and the intensity of his gaze, "if you were actually smart, you would shut up."

"Maybe you should include some studying in the next conditioning session cause I'm about as smart as a rock." Rook laughed, before rasing her eyebrow as she nodded towards him. "I mean obviously I'm not that bright, I saved you after all."

Jacob's hands stopped for a moment, before finally finishing the row of thirteen stitches running down the length of Rook's forearm. Throwing the materials back into the first aid kit, Jacob sat back in his seat, eyeballing Rook as she rolled her eyes and organised the items inside before shutting the lid.

"You never actually told me why you help me, even though I told you when you asked." She says quietly.

Standing up and walking to pick up her pack from beside the couch, Rook scoffed as she slung the strap over her shoulder.

"Eli said you'd taken a shining to me when he first pulled me outta that hotel, but don't worry, I know that isn't the case."

Jacob bit his tongue, unaware that anyone apart from John knew anything about his early intrigue around the Deputy, who's name he'd still yet to find out. Of all people, he'd think Eli would be the last to know. Meanwhile, Rook choked down the feeling of disappointment bubbling in her throat at her own words, a feeling she was yet to understand the meaning behind as her thoughts clouded her mind every time she tried to figure it out.

Forcing the memories of feeling her careful touch across his skin, and the soft words she spoke to him that would sooth the pain he would feel from the Whitetail attacks, one's that he would let himself react to a second too late just so he could hobble over to the cabin on Cedar Lake and see her again, Jacob replied as coldly as possible.

"I've put too much time, and effort, into you to let you die before you serve your purpose. If it wasn't for Joseph, I would have killed you a long time ago."

Sensing the slight edge to his voice, Rook throws a smile over her shoulder as she opens the cabin door.

"Keep telling yourself that." Rook laughed, holding the door as she hesitated to leave, upon seeing Jacob trying to hide the smile threatening to cover his face at the attitude she never failed to throw at him.

"Trust me, it's better for both of us if I do, Little Wolf."

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

The Girl Out of Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader and Sam x Reader

Background: Willow Roffe was born and raised in Brooklyn. She lived her life as happily as she could with her two childhood best friends Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. When they both left her to join the military she tried to continue with life but that didn't get to happen for her for the simple fact that she meant something to James Buchanan Barnes.

Rating: Story will be overall MATURE but not every chapter. There will be strong language, talk of both mental and physical abuse, some good ole angst, and smut. There will be a warning at the beginning of the chapter when it includes smut.

Chapter 28

"It's that doctor. This was all him." I said as we ran.

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

I looked over to Steve but he was concentrating on where we were going.

"I just do. It's all way too coincidental. Everything that happened led to that doctor being alone with James." I explained.

My heart was pounding furiously as we ran around a corner. Steve slowed in front of us at the sight of a body on the floor.

"Help me" a voice croaked.

Steve slowly moved closer. In the next room bodies were all over the place. What the hell happened?

"Help" the voice croaked again.

I stepped around Steve to see the doctor on the floor. A red hot rage filled me instantly.

"Get up" Steve ordered.

Before the guy had a chance I grabbed his shirt jerking him to his feet. I slammed him hard into the wall.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Steve asked harshly from beside me.

The man smiled sinisterly.

"To see an empire fall." He spat.

I didn't even get to retort when Sam was suddenly slammed into the wall next to me. I jumped turning around. Steve tried to subdue Bucky but he swung hard.

"Shit" I breathed out.

I grabbed Sam trying to help him to his feet but he was out cold. The two super soldiers moved into the next room. All thoughts of the doctor flew out of my mind as I ran to catch up with my friends. When I reached them Bucky threw Steve door the elevator shaft.

"Steve!" I shouted making Bucky turn towards me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him harshly.

"Stay out of my way doll." He snapped.

He wasn't Bucky. The look in his eyes was the same one as the first time Steve and I had seen him as the Winter Soldier. Somehow the switch got flipped again.

I chased after him. I couldn't let him disappear again. He didn't know what he was doing. He needed help.

I got down into the main lobby to find James in the middle of fighting several agents. None of them stood a chance against him.

"James!" I shouted trying to get his attention.

I ran towards him just as Tony came around the corner. A sonic wave hit me making me crumbled to my knees. My ears rang from it. I covered my eyes as a bright flash filled the room. When I could see and hear again Bucky had both Sharon and Nat on him. He knocked Sharon off then grabbed Nat by the throat. He slammed her on top a table.

"You could at least recognize me." Nat said through clenched teeth.

I stumbled to my feet as T'Challa jumped out kicking Bucky in the chest. I checked on Nat quickly as the two men started to fight. She was panting from lack of oxygen but otherwise okay.

Bucky knocked off T'Challa then ran up the stairs. I moved to follow him but someone grabbed my wrist pulling me back.

"You can't help him." Tony said sharply.

"I have to try." I said softly.

Tony tightened his hold on my wrist but I could still get out of it. I ripped my hand away from him. Bucky was no longer on the stairs. I turned and ran as quickly as I could. I followed my instincts running out the side door. A few feet in front of me James was running full speed. He shoved open a heavy metal door that led to a helicopter pad. He ripped something off the door of the helicopter then opened the door. I hurried to the other side doing the same and climbing inside.

"What the hell are you doing?" James asked harshly.

"If you're leaving then so am I." I told him.

"Are you out of your mind?" He glared at me.

"Better get going before we get caught again." I stated simply.

He growled but did as I said. He started flipping switches making the copter roar to life.

"I don't understand what you're doing." He said as he started to lift us off the pad.

"I've lost you too many times already. I'll be damned if I let it happen again." I said sternly.

The metal door leading to the pad flew open as Steve ran out. His eyes locked with both mine and Bucky's. He ran full speed then jumped grabbing hold of the helicopter. With his insane strength he kept us from getting too far. When Bucky tried to get him off Steve grabbed a hold of the edge of the pad.

"He can't seriously being doing this." I said in disbelief.

Bucky tried to make him let go but ended up crashing us into the pad.

"Shit! Hold on doll!" James shouted as we went down.

I closed my eyes for only a second. When I opened them we were falling into the water. I looked over to James to see blood trickling down the window his head was laying against.

"Jamie!" I shouted right before my head went under water.

I had to kick at my door a few times to get it open. When I got to Jamie's side Steve was already there ripping the door open. I helped him pull him out then drag him up to the surface. I gasped for air as soon as I could.

"Have you lost your mind?" Steve shouted at me as we swam to the shore.

I knew he was mad but he was scared more than anything. He could have just lost both his best friends in one moment. All I had selfishly thought about was James and how I couldn't loose him again.

"You scared the absolute hell out of me Willow." He chided as we drug James out of the water.

"I'm sorry" I said softly.

I fell to my knees next to Jamie. His chest was rising and falling normally which eased my worries a bit.

"What if you got killed? Did you even stop to think about me or Sam? What would we do without you?" Steve asked as he kneeled beside me.

Tears fell down my cheeks as I looked down at James.

"I couldn't risk loosing him again." I choked out.

Steve's arms were instantly around me. I cried harder the instant my head was against his chest.

"Cap!" Sam's voice brought me back to reality.

I quickly sat up wiping my eyes. I wasn't sure I could explain to Sam why I was crying. Steve knew me well enough to know why. I was overwhelmed. Too much going on around me and in my head.

"He still breathing?" Sam asked coming to a stop in front of us.

"That's not funny." I grumbled.

I didn't give Steve a chance to do anything. I bent down picking up Bucky's unconscious body. I positioned him over my shoulders so I held one arm and one leg to keep him in place.

"Willow I can carry him." Steve chided.

"So can I." I said simply.

Steve sighed but nodded. He knew I wasn't going to let him take James from me. I followed behind the two men towards our "getaway car". I chuckled to myself at the sight of the small dark blue beetle. Sam opened the door then moved up the seat so I could sit James in the back seat. I climbed in to sit next to him. The car ride was silent but the air was tense. I knew both men wanted to say something. Most likely two completely different things.

Steve pulled the car into an old run down warehouse. I pulled James out then carried him to the other side of the room where I gently sat him against the wall.

"Sam, give me a hand." Steve said.

I watched as Steve raised up part of an old wench then nodded for Sam to do something. I stepped forward when Sam grabbed Bucky's metal arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned harshly.

"When he wakes up he could still be the Winter Soldier. It's just a safety precaution." Steve told me.

I scoffed turning away as Steve tightened it down on his friend's arm. When he was done he excused himself out of the room.

"Care to explain why you ran off like that?" Sam asked quietly.

"I didn't want us to loose track of him again." I told him.

He sighed.

"Will, you promised to be honest with me." He said in exasperation.

"How can I be honest if I don't know what the hell is going on myself?" I asked a bit harsher than I meant to.

"What does that mean?" Sam questioned.

I was the one to sigh this time.

"Ever since we found him things have started to change. The more I talk to him. The longer I'm near him I can feel every emotion I use to have coming back to the surface. They're not just memories anymore." I explained softly.

I felt so bad. I didn't understand it at first. I thought I was just caring about him more because I could remember him. In reality, every second around him brought me closer to loving him again. I didn't want to hurt Sam. He was a great guy and he'd been there for me through so much since we met but I can't stop these feelings from resurfacing.

"You're falling in love with him again aren't you?" Sam asked.

"I don't know if you'd call it falling." I muttered.

"Willow" Sam huffed.

I walked over to Sam then leaned my head against his chest. His arms wrapped around me as he rested his chin on top my head.

"Just give me some time to figure out exactly what I'm feeling. Please." I spoke into his chest.

I stepped back not paying much attention to the groaning behind me. Sam grabbed each side of my face then kissed me softly. Another groan behind me made Sam and I both turned around to see James awake and watching us with a look of either pain or disgust.

—

[cleem123]

Can I request a future fic where Kevin finds out the truth and Joaquin is trying to win him back by showing Kevin how much of their relationship was real. Like how he remembers the food he likes and doesn't like and how he likes the way he smells and all these small details. I would like to see how far he'd go to win him back 🙂

Never More Than I You

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of tattoos, gangs, blood, and a very mild attempt at self harm (that’s not really what it is, but I don’t know how else to describe it)

Read on AO3

For the above anon, and for everyone in the tags asking for some angsty kevin/joaquin fanfic. Here you go.

“Joaquin?Joaquin? Joaquin!” Joaquin groaned, but made his way up the stairs of the barinto FP’s office.

“Yes?” He said, any façade of happiness orrespect having walked out the door with Kevin.

“Wow.” FP laughed. It vividly remindedJoaquin of when he first knew he was screwed, of when he confessed to thegang-leader that ‘he likes me, for real.’ “You need to get over him, kid. Didyou really think it was gonna work out? He’s the sheriff’s son. And you’re agang-banger, trailer trash.” Joaquin didn’t believe it. What he and Kevin hadwas special. Or, what he and Kevin usedto have had been special.

“Is there something you want?” Joaquindeadpanned

“Yeah. I want you to get your head out ofyour ass and start helping out around here again.” FP spewed angrily. “Sure,the Keller kid broke it off, but that doesn’t mean that your job is over. Wearen’t in the clear yet, Joaquin.” He softened slightly. “Come on, we all needyou. Your family needs you. So, what do you say?” Joaquin nodded dumbly andleft the room. He left the bar. It was raining, he didn’t notice.

“Yourfamily needs you.” The words replayed themselves over andover in his head. Were the serpents his family? Was this his life now? Spyingon cops and ‘helping’ teenagers with their shady drug deals. Two years ago,Joaquin would have been thrilled to be included in the family of the serpents.But now, all Joaquin could think of was the way Kevin looked at him. The wayKevin laughed. The way Kevin cried. Joaquin didn’t know much about family, butif asked when he had felt the most at home and loved, he wouldn’t say with theserpents or even with his brother. He would say the Kevin Keller, the sheriff’sson, was his home.

Joaquin wasn’t sure when he reached thetrailer. He wasn’t sure when the rain became the water of his shower. He wasn’tsure when the tears started to stream down his face. All Joaquin was sure of,in that moment, was the damned snake tattoo on his arm. “Fuck.” His broken cryechoed through the empty trailer. Joaquin dropped to the floor of his shower.“Get off, get off of me.” He screamed, viciously scrapping at the tattoo. Heclawed at it, tried to rub off the skin stained by the black pigment. He couldhear strangled sounds, grunts, and cries, but he had no idea where they werecoming from. Snot dripped down his face. His tears collected at the end of hisnose and chin. He kept clawing, but still, that damned snake remained. Joaquindidn’t stop when the arm started bleeding. He didn’t stop when the water becameicy. He didn’t stop.

“Wasany of it real?”

“Kev,you don’t understand. This is important to me. You are important to me.”

“No!I’m fucking not.” Kevin laughed, but it wasn’t the happy go lucky laugh thatJoaquin had grown to know, to love. “What’s important to you is helping you’restupid gang. God, Joaquin!” Kevin tried to blink away the tears. “Really it’smy fault, I should’ve known this wasn’t real. I should’ve known that no one inRiverdale gets a happy ending.” With that, Kevin stormed away, and two younghearts shattered.

Maybe he cried himself to sleep, maybe hisbrother had gotten home and taken him to bed, maybe he sleep-walked to his bed.Joaquin didn’t know how he ended up in his bed the next morning, but he didn’tcare. However, he did know why he had woken up with tears in his eyes. As if onautopilot, he got up. He got dressed, pulling his jacket on to hide the tattooand the bloody scars and scrapes covering it. He left the trailer and startedto walk north.

Joaquin didn’t know what he expected tohappen on his walk from the Southside trailer park to the Keller residence, buthe didn’t expect to have company. And he really didn’t expect that company tobe Jughead Jones.

“Joaquin.” Jughead said solemnly. Everyinteraction they had ever had was solemn. Even when Joaquin and Kevin weretogether, Joaquin and Jughead were never very friendly.

“Jughead.” Joaquin responded. The walkcontinued in silence until the two reached the line. The line between south andnorth. There wasn’t a literal line, no, Riverdale was much too vague for that.But it seemed like the air changed, the actual oxygen breathed in wasdifferent. They both just stood there, as if crossing this line was somethinglife-changing and not something they had done millions of times before. Jugheadbroke the silence.

“Joaquin, what are you doing? You know mydad’ll be pissed.” Jughead seemed broken, more than usual. He seemed like themention of his dad and all that had recently happened physically hurt him.

“What do you think I’m doing? At thispoint, I couldn’t give a shit about your dad, about the serpents, aboutanything there.” Joaquin gestured angrily towards the Southside. “The one thingI have ever cared about is gone. And I’m gonna do whatever the hell it takes tosalvage the only good thing about the last year of my life.” Joaquin’s voiceprogressively got louder until he was yelling at Jughead.

“Um, okay. That’s great and all, but Romeooh Romeo, all that won’t save you from the wrath of the Gang you’re leavingbehind. Or the wrath of Keller.” He scoffed, a smirk appearing on his face.“I’m not really sure which one is worse.”

Joaquin stopped. The reality of what hewas about to do finally sinking in. “I don’t want to be a gangbanger all of mylife.” He could feel tears well up in his eyes, but the discipline driven intohim from childhood was still present and prevented him from showing emotion.“Kevin is the only good thing I’ve ever known. I need him. I- I love him.” Atthat admission, Joaquin felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. Likewise,Jughead took a step back.

“Betty said you did.”

“Said I did what?” Joaquin asked, alarmed.

“Loved Kevin.”

“What? How did she..? I didn’t even…”

“She just knew. Girl thing I guess. Heloves you too.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Well, yeah I heard you. But I mean. Whatdo you mean?” Joaquin couldn’t process what was being said. His handimmediately reached to cover his arm. To cover the mark that was already hidingbeneath his leather jacket and the bloody scrapes.

Jughead smirked, “If you are going where I think you’re going, then you already know what it means.”

The sentence hadn’t fully left Jughead’smouth before Joaquin started running. He crossed the line. His lungs filledwith the new air, and he ran. He ran because Kevin loved him. He ran because heloved Kevin. And, maybe the most important reason, Joaquin ran because KevinKeller was heartbroken, and it was his fault.

When Joaquin approached the Kellerresidence, his body began to move without conscious thought. He masterfullyscaled the tree and knocked on Kevin’s window with no thought besides ‘whatwill he think? Will he take me back?’ Joaquin looked into the window, and therehe was. Kevin Keller, an angel in human’s clothing, was lying on his bed, facingaway from the window and Joaquin. He knocked again. When Kevin didn’t move,Joaquin attempted to open the window from the outside and was slightlysurprised when the window moved, granting him entry.

“Kevin. Um, it’s me. Joaquin.” Joaquin wassuddenly shy. It felt weird to be shy around someone he was used to being comfortablewith.

Kevin didn’t move.

“Look, Kev,” The boy flinched at the soundof the nickname. “Uh, sorry.” Joaquin quickly apologized, rubbing the back ofhis neck. “Look, really I came here to apologize. To explain that I nevershould have let you go. I never should have let fucking FP and the serpentsmanipulate me. And, I’m not trying to shift the blame, I know I’m at faulthere. And I’m not expecting you to take me back. I understand, what I did is…unforgivable.

“But you asked me if any of it was real.And that is a question that deserves an answer. Less than two years ago, I wasworthless. I was a shell of a kid, trying to find someplace where he could fitin. But now, well now I’m worth something.” Joaquin drew his fingers throughhis hair, taking a breath and preparing for what he had to say.

“It’s not because of anything I’ve done.Actually it’s all because of you. I’m worth something because now I know. Iknow that you only eat fries if they have ketchup and mustard on them. I know that your shampoo smells likesandalwood and your body wash smells like freshly cut grass. I know that, eventhough he gets on your nerves, you thank the world for your dad every singleday. You have amazing taste in fashion, specifically shoes. You could neverkeep a secret from Betty, not even us. I know that sometimes you think that allanyone wants is to use you to figure out their sexuality or for a quip.

“And because I know all of that, because Iknow you, I am worth something. Or Iwas. But then I hurt you. I hurt you, and I don’t deserve to be worth somethinganymore. I don’t deserve to know what I do about you anymore.” Kevin still hadn’tmoved. Joaquin knew that he shouldn’t expect him to. He had no right to expectanything from Kevin Keller. “I don’t expect anything to come from this, but youhave the right to know.” Joaquin gathered his courage. Here goes nothing.

“Kevin Keller, I love you.” The room wassilent. No one moved. It was seconds, but Joaquin could have sworn he stoodthere for years.

There were tears in his eyes as he beganto leave the room. Joaquin wasn’t sure what he was going to do know. He waslost. But for a moment, for a single second, Joaquin knew that everything wouldbe okay. As he made his way down the old oak, he heard it.

“Never more than I love you, Joaquin.Never more.”

Yay! So that was that, I will be writing more for the other prompts I have already received and any others that come my way. Hit me up if you have ideas, want to beta, or would like to be tagged in my future Kevin/Joaquin fanfics.

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