#if he'd only let her know that there's something there to wait for; something concrete they could be heading towards together

[mapis-putellas]

Trust in me

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 2418

Warnings: none that i know of

Summary: Natasha gets injured on a mission, and as a result, allows you to carry her for the first time.

It had been a complete accident. Something she knew could have been avoided had she only been paying attention. One second, her widow bite had attached itself to the metal grating, and she was falling with the knowledge she'd land safely on her feet. The next, she'd hit the concrete with a thump, and a cry of pain she didn't even know she was capable of emitting had slipped from her lips without permission as her hands clutched the gravel below.

It hurt. Oh god did it hurt. But she had no time to really take it in before she found herself being hauled to her feet by non other than Clint. He'd all but dragged her back to the quinjet, and Natasha had collapsed onto one of the seats doing everything possible to swallow back the sobs she knew were desperately trying to escape.

She didn't know what happened. She doesn't know what went wrong, even now after making it back to the Avengers compound. She'd fallen from further heights before. More times than she could even count and every single one of them she'd come out completely unscathed. Not a single bruise on her.

She stares down at the bruised and swollen appendage with a look of distaste on her face, eyes stinging with tears she refuses to let fall. How could she have been so stupid?

You rush into the compound slightly winded, skin clammy with sweat as you head straight towards the medbay. You'd been in the middle of dinner when a phone call from Clint had halted you mid task. It was Natasha. She'd fallen and had hurt herself in the process. She wouldn't let anyone near her, not even the doctor on call.

You hadn't waited for further details before you were grabbing your things and scrambling out of the house. Natasha was hurt. She was alone and you had to get to her. You were pretty sure you break several laws doing so in fact.

You hadn't been dating for long. A little over six months perhaps so the honeymoon phase was still very much in progress. You spent practically every waking moment together with the exception of missions and such, and you knew full well you'd never loved anyone as much as you'd loved her.

That very L word had yet to be spoken aloud however, because despite how much you clearly adored one another, she was still Natasha, and Natasha's walls were built so high you sometimes feared you'd never be able to tear them down. There were moments though. Moments when you see that soft gaze and hoped that one day, she'd let you have her completely.

When the medbay door comes into view, you hasten your pace slightly until your hand was pushing on the handle and you were stepping inside. The sight that greets you all but breaks your heart. There Natasha was, sat on the large medical bed clad in only her tactical suit that was half off and tied around her waist. Her leg was elevated in front of her, bruised and swollen beyond recognition and your stomach all but clenches at the sight.

What breaks you further was the look on her face. She looked small, so scared, and when those green irises meet your own, they immediately become shiny with tears. Instinct alone seemingly has her reaching for you, and you don't hesitate to comply with her silent plead. You cup her cheeks first, thumbs tenderly grazing over the soft skin. That seems to be permission enough alone for the dam to break, the first hot tear of what you suspect would be many streams down her cheek leaving a wet trail in its wake.

"Oh baby, it's okay." You murmur as you bring her into your arms, her hands immediately scrambling for purchase and clutching the material of your shirt at the small of your back. You cup the back of her head, pressing your lips against the slightly tangled and sweaty tresses. "You need to let them look at you okay?" You find yourself somewhat pleading as you run your hand up and down her back, but Natasha simply let's out a choked sob as she shakes her head.

Her hands tighten around you, almost as though she was terrified you were going to push her away. In a desperate attempt to sooth her fears, you tighten your arms around her trembling frame and take a small step closer to the bed. It was a few minutes later before you dare to speak again.

"Baby, you're hurt. Please." But Natasha's almost silent cries seem to grow slightly in volume, and you decide it would probably be best to give her a few moments. You continue with the gentle ministrations against her back, your lips pressing continues tender kisses against the top of her head and to any part of her body you could reach from your current position. Her body soon becomes still, and you crane your neck slightly to peek down at her.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot, nose tinged red and cheeks soaked with tears. Feeling your own throat constrict at the sight of seeing your girlfriend so upset, you give her hip a gentle pat to get her attention. In response, you get an almost timid hum of acknowledgment.

"Would you let them fix you up if I held you?" This wouldn't be the first time Natasha had allowed you to hold her. In fact, behind closed doors, she was quiet the snuggle bug contrary to popular belief. It had taken a while for her to get to the point though. When you first started dating, simply resting a hand on her arm without warning appeared to be too much, and she'd often flinch away without really meaning to.

She'd always apologise though, eyes shy as she'd cautiously reach for your hand to encourage it back to her body, and you'd comply with her silent implication, using the pad of your thumb to trace gentle circles on her skin making sure your hand remained within her line of sight at all times.

It took many months if trial and error, mainly on your side, to get her to the point of being comfortable enough with affection, and now, a part of her body always has to be touching your own, and she was always the little spoon when it came to cuddling.

Her favourite position, however, was laying completely on top of you with her head nestled just beneath your chin. Her legs would curl up on either side of your hips, and she'd spend hours in your arms if you let her, hands clinging to your shirt whilst your own would slip beneath her sweater and simply rest on the bare skin at the small of her back.

Outside closed doors however, she couldn't be more different. The most she accepted was hand holding and the occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead, and even then it wasn't often. It was why you were so wary of asking despite the fact you knew it was the only thing that would sooth her.

Natasha remains silent for a while, so long in fact you feared you may have said the wrong thing. But then you feel it. A timid nod against your chest, and you knew then she must be in some pretty horrific pain.

"Okay, hang on tight angel." You murmur after pressing another kiss to the top of her head, coaxing her arms to wrap around your neck as opposed to your waist. Once you were sure she was hanging on, you slip an arm beneath her legs and situate the other around her waist. You then, for the first time in your six month relationship, lift your girlfriends body up into your arms.

It was no secret that Natasha was petite, and it was also no secret that should she allow it, you could lift her with absolutely no issues. But Natasha wasn't the kind of person who lets herself be coddled to that extent, even behind closed doors, so you take a few moments to relish in the feeling of holding her like this knowing you may never get the chance to again.

She was lighter than you anticipated she'd be, and the way she clings to you has you falling all the more in love with her. A few quiet moments pass before you turn and gently ease yourself down onto the spot she'd just vacated, the red head sat comfortably on your lap with her legs sprawled out on the bed next to you. Her upper body twists slightly as her arms curl up in between both your chest, and she hides her face in the juncture of your neck before you could really get a good look at the current emotion on her face.

With the knowledge of how hard this must be for her, you allow her to remain hidden in her little safe space as you murmur gentle words of encouragement into her ear, one arm holding her close to you whilst the other rubs gentle circles across the length of her back.

It was only after her nod of consent a few minutes later do you finally allow the doctor into the room, and just like you had suspected, her ankle was well and truly broken. Natasha doesn't utter a single word as her ankle was casted, nor when asked about her pain on a scale of one to ten so you take it upon yourself to answer for her and listen to whatever instructions the doctor throws your way.

An hour later, it was all over, and it was just you and Natasha again. Your lips quirk up into a gentle smile when she finally peaks her head out of your neck, letting out a quiet huff at the sight of the massive, bulky cast on her leg. It went from her toes all the way up to just below her knee. She turns to you, a pout on her lips, and you tenderly lean up to kiss it away earning yourself a shy, yet genuine smile.

You secure both hands against her hip and give her a gentle squeeze before speaking.

"Are you ready to head home?" The pad of your thumb slips beneath her tank top, grazing gently against the bare skin of her hipbone.

Natasha doesn't hesitate to nod her head, a soft exhale slipping from her lips and hitting the skin of your neck leaving a pleasant sensation in its wake. You give her another soft squeeze before beginning to rise to your feet with her in your arms with the intention of grabbing a wheelchair.

"Me too. Let me to grab-"

Before you could even begin to lift your butt from the bed, a small no slips from Natasha's lips prompting you to look up at her up at her with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Baby, you can't walk." You regretfully inform, but Natasha shakes her head again. Her lips part, and you wait for her to tell you the problem but not a single syllable seems to want to escape her lips. She lets out a deep, slightly frustrated sigh before trying again, clutching the material of your shirt in her hands in what you knew was her attempt at keeping you sat. You comply, knowing that whatever she was trying to tell you must be important if it was so hard for her to say,

"I.." she trails off, letting out another sigh before shaking her head, "No wheelchair." She mumbles, her voice holding an air of finality despite its quiet tone.

"Nat," you try, but she cuts you off with another shake of the head.

"No. No wheelchair. I want...will you..."

"Will I what baby?" You soften your tone slightly, giving the side of her thigh an encouraging squeeze.

Natasha looks down at her lap, her quiet, almost bashful voice filling the room just moments later.

"Carry me."

It was said so unsurely, so hesitantly you feel your throat constrict with the onslaught of tears. Pushing them back, you reach up and cup both her cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just between her eyebrows.

"Of course I'll carry you, angel." You reassure, and Natasha flushes a light shade of red when your lips move down to meet her own in a tender kiss. That doesn't stop her from reciprocating however, and she does so without hesitation, her hands rising to cling to the shirt situated either side of your waist.

After a few moments, you force yourself to pull away knowing you'd never make it back home if this were to continue. Natasha pouts, and you can't help but playfully nip at her bottom lip as you rise to your feet with her cradled in your arms. That earns you a quiet giggle, and your stomach flutters at the sound as you somehow find it within you to temporarily set her down so you could pack up her things.

Once everything was stored away in her ops bag, you temporarily set it aside before heading back over to Natasha. You bend with the intention of lifting her up again the same way you had before, but before you could so do, she leans forward and wraps her arms around your neck.

Your hands rest on her sides for only a moment before her intentions become clear, and with a soft kiss to her neck in acknowledgment, you slip a hand beneath each of her thighs and lift her slight frame up into your arms. You bounce her up slightly before bringing both arms down to rest underneath her behind, easily supporting her weight in your arms as you bend to grab the discarded ops bag and throw it over your shoulder.

As silly as it sounded, she fit absolutely perfectly in your arms, and you knew for a fact  holding her like this was going to be your new favourite thing. Her chest was flush against your own, arms secure around your shoulders as she buries her face into your neck. You smile at the feeling of the tip of her nose grazing against your skin.

"Ready baby?" You give her behind a few soft pats, and all Natasha was able to give you was a sleepy hum of content.

Your heart melts at the sound.

"Okay, angel. Let's go home."

**

It took a little more time than intended but I finally got this finished. I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

[spaceclefairy]

Only You

You don't expect the Ghoul to hang around, but he comes creepin' back in around sundown every night. You're glad you remembered the Rad-Away.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Act V | Ao3 Compilation

You're stuck in Filly for the next few days while you sort out the raider issue with your agency. You assume “sorting it out” involves the agency terminating the raiders with characteristic violence and aplomb, but you don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.

There’s not a lot of lodging in Filly. In fact, there’s not much of anything. Ramshackle trader stalls, a few real stores if you squint, a radroach-infested motel, and a bar that most of the town seemed to frequent once the hour struck late no matter the day. At least the bar has enough open rooms to let you rent one for a few nights.

You hadn't expected the Ghoul to stick around, but so far, he continues to show up. He disappears during the day, then returns long after dark and crawls into the small barroom bed with you. You don't ask him what he gets up to during the day (you don't want to know), but you assume he's taking care of smaller contracts while he's out.

You've been spending your days at the agency hub taking down telegrams for contracts and sending out bids. It's mind numbing work when you're used to dealing with bounty hunters all day, but you've got to do something while you wait for the agency to give you the okay to go back home. You need money, and you’ll probably go nuts if you don’t keep yourself busy.

At least you've got the chance to see some old acquaintances at the agency hub. A couple of former bounty hunters who'd come through your office were now agents at the hub. They're alright, as far as wastelanders go; you hang around with them when you take breaks.

Today’s smoke break has more or less turned into gossip time. You’re happy to listen in on any and all gossip (it’s part of your job, after all) - it’s less enjoyable when the questions turn to you.

One of them, a woman whose teeth were file-sharpened into fangs (creatively named Fang), lives above the bar down the hall from you. She's good natured, if quite terrifying. She leans against the crumbling concrete wall of the hub, taking a drag on a little paper cylinder that smells suspiciously like burning catnip. “I saw that ghoul you came into town with last night. Is he staying with you?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

You’re not inclined to expound upon her question, but she lives down the hall from you. She’s obviously seen the Ghoul creeping into your room at night (he’s not exactly quiet, either), hence the question.

The other, an individual with - conversely - no teeth to speak of (again, creatively named Gums - fuckin’ wastelanders), chimes in. “You're staying with a ghoul?”

“Yeah-”

Fang interrupts you. “And not just a ghoul. The Ghoul.”

“The Ghoul? As in…” Gums raises a sparse, flakey eyebrow. You nod, and they whistle. “Nice. How'd you bag that?”

“Longtime client,” you reply simply. You don’t know Gums as well as you do Fang, but they seem harmless enough. “He got caught in the gunfight when the raiders showed up at my office.”

You neglect to tell them he'd started the gunfight. The less they know, the better.

“Not bad. You could do worse,” Fang observes. “Does his dick look like the rest of him?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Gums grins. “Cool.”

Your break turns into playing hooky the rest of the day, mostly because you don’t want to field any more questions from anyone who’d seen you walking around with the Ghoul. You make yourself scarce for the rest of the day, choosing to wander around town. You haven't been to Filly in years, not since you were a kid. It hasn't changed much. There's still the same derelict bars, saloons, and stores. There's more than one bounty agency here, too, though you don't know which ones. You're only concerned with yours.

Sundown slides over the town by the time you head back over to the bar for the night. Everyone’s locked down and boarded up their places of business, the street vendors have all scattered. You know that Filly after sundown is not a great place to be, but you can hold your own if the need arises.

You're in the mood for a drink tonight, and frankly, there's nothing else to do in Filly after dark that won’t get you shot. When you step into the dingy bar, you make your way up to the bartender and grab a beer. It’s watery and gross-looking, but it smells like beer and you can’t be picky out here in the wasteland.

When you turn around to find somewhere to sit, you spot the Ghoul watching you from a back corner of the bar. You're surprised he’s back by sundown - he’d been rolling in late into the night, long after the moon had risen into the sky. You take your beer and skirt around the chairs and tables littering the bar. 

He cocks his head and watches you approach. He's got a half-full beer mug in one hand - evidence he's been back for a while. He doesn't give you a chance to grab another chair when you reach him. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down into his lap. 

If you didn't know how much booze it takes to affect a ghoul, you'd assume your Ghoul was drunk, but he's not. He just doesn't seem to care that the few patrons of the bar have their eyes trained on the two of you. Of all the things you expect him to be, possessive is not one - or maybe he is possessive, and this is his warning to the other patrons. You don't care which, and you’re not inclined to give it further thought. Rather, you're distracted by his hand squeezing the top of your thigh.

The Ghoul takes a drink of his beer and rests the glass on your knee. “Any word on the raiders?”

“Other than, it's being handled, no,” you reply. You force your brain to focus away from his hand on your thigh. You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s all it takes for him to get you going. “My agency isn't exactly forthcoming about what goes on behind the scenes.”

“No, they're quiet about how dangerous they are, and they like to keep it that way,” he agrees. He pauses, and grins slightly. “Kind of like you. You're a hell of shot with that rifle.”

Compliments from him are few and far-between - forward compliments at least. He’s far more show than tell. You’re… flattered, actually, that he’s paid attention to you beyond just physically. You know he has, but it’s nice to hear it.

Again, you suspect you may actually like the Ghoul.

“Can't be a bounty agent if you haven't been a bounty hunter before,” you shrug. “I've had plenty of practice.”

He takes a drink of his beer, and says, so, so quietly, “Ditch the agency and come with me. Be a bounty hunter again.”

You raise an eyebrow. He's not serious, surely. 

“I like what I do now, Cooper,” you reply softly. “But my door's always open.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

The Ghoul returns to people-watching in silence, sipping on his beer and continuously making you more and more nervous with his hand on your thigh. He's taken to rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb, and he keeps getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. He's not being even remotely inconspicuous, either. More than one person in the bar has caught on to what’s going on in the back corner, if the odd looks you’re getting tell you anything.

You don't try to make him stop (you don’t think you’re capable of asking him to stop), but you do lean back against his shoulder and press your lips to his ear. “You're gonna do this here?”

He looks you dead in the eye. “I'll fuck you right here in this chair with every single person watchin’.”

Yeah, no, he's serious on that one. You can see it in his eyes. Actually, you can feel his dick pressed against the back of your leg, too. 

You blink. “We should probably go upstairs now.”

He chugs the rest of his beer, then pats your leg, motioning for you to stand up. “Should have already gone upstairs.”

You don't disagree. In fact, you don't think you could have stood up any faster. 

The Ghoul looks you up and down with that grin on his face before following you up the stairs. You don't quite make it back to your room before he’s grabbing at you by the waist and pulling you close. He traps you against the wall, body pressing down on you, completely irreverent of anyone walking down the hallway behind you. You grab his face and kiss him; his raw skin is chapped, but soft and cool against yours. The brim of his hat knocks against the top of your head, but you don’t care. 

You scramble to find your door key in your back pocket and only just manage to get your hands on it. You can’t quite manage to get the key in the lock, so he takes a break from what he’s doing (grabbing your tits under your shirt) to take it from you and jam it into the door.

The Ghoul kicks the doors closed behind him with the heel of his boot. The force shakes dust from the walls and kicks dirt up from the floor. With a single-mindedness that takes your breath away, he backs you up to the tiny bed shoved up against the back wall and drops down to his knees.

He strips your pants and underwear down your legs, then prompts you to sit down with a hand on your stomach. As much as you like when he tries to have a little patience, you like it this way more - sloppy, breathless, a little desperate for you. A starving man eating his first meal in days. 

With a tug, he drags your hips over to the edge of the bed and sets to work with his tongue. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and busy yourself picking open the buttons of your shirt with shaking fingers. You shrug out of your shirt, leaving yourself completely exposed. He hasn't even taken off his hat yet, but you take care of that for him and drop it onto your head.

The Ghoul looks up at you and pauses his ministrations, licking his lips in thought. 

You shrug. “The hat was in the way.”

He doesn't respond, choosing to set his mouth back to better purposes, but he keeps his eyes trained up on your face while he sticks his tongue in your cunt. He's sloppy about it, spreading your lips with his gloved thumbs so he can get better access to you. You buck up against his face, and he doesn't stop you - no, he buries his tongue deeper between your legs and lets you ride his face, all the while still looking up at you with those bright hazel eyes.

Finally, it hits you, and you grin like you've won the damn lottery. “You like me wearing your hat, Cooper?”

He nips your inner thigh with his teeth, making you jump, and sets back to sucking your clit. You take that as a warning not to tease him, but it's so much more fun to know his mouth is too full of you to tease you back.

You don't stop teasing him, knowing full well it's just going to rile him up. “Why don't you come up here so I can ride your face properly, cowboy? I've got the hat to fit the part.”

The Ghoul has had enough of the gloves obstructing his ability to feel your skin. He stops long enough to strip them off, stick a finger in his mouth to coat it with his spit, and press his finger deep into your entrance. You choke on the fullness, the sensation rough but not unwelcome.

“Well, don't get quiet on me now,” he says. 

You stutter, but he can absolutely understand you when you say, “I like riding your face when you're on your knees, too.”

He spreads you apart and licks you, slow and deep, chasing the path of his fingers. He watches you while he does it, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that right?”

You nod. “Sure is.”

You lean over where you sit, where he's still on his knees on the floor, and unbutton his shirt. You expect him to tell you to stop - there's more light in the room this time, after all - but he doesn't. He shrugs his duster and shirt down over his shoulders and lets them hit the floor. This time, you can really see what he looks like. Raw, pitted skin, mostly red but pink-white in places where old scars have healed over time and again, build slight but still muscular. He seems to be waiting for you to pull back, recoil away - stop in your tracks. You grab his face and kiss him, then pull him to his feet.

 You pull him closer by his belt before that comes off, too. Boots and pants next, dropped carelessly to the floor. You take a minute to look and touch, run your hands over exposed skin, and he sighs softly at your touch.

“Look at you, Cooper,” you say. “Aren’t you a sight?”

“You are fuckin’ strange,” the Ghoul comments, but it’s with affection. His version of affection, anyway.

“Yeah,” you shoot back with a grin, “but I don't hear you complaining.”

You take his cock in hand and run your tongue along the vein underneath, making him twitch. You swallow him down, fisting what doesn’t fit in your mouth, until he’s threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you off of him.

The Ghoul deems that to be the extent of what he can take from you. You’re on your back with him crawling over you before your brain registers that he’s moved. He smashes his lips down over yours while his hands creep up along your sides. He wastes no time reaching between your legs and running the head of his cock along your slit. Not for the first time, you marvel at how much you prefer the roughness over his attempts to be patient.

You’ve teased him long enough, you decide, so you wrap your legs around his waist and arch up against him. “Come on, Coop -”

He obliges and thrusts into you, planting one hand next to your head for leverage. The other hand catches your chin and holds you steady while he fucks you. You meet his eyes, and the way he watches you - like it’s a privilege to touch you - makes you ache.

You nudge him with your hip until he rolls on his back. You slide him back inside, hissing at the returning fullness, and grind down on him with your hands on his chest. He wraps his hands around your thighs, squeezing so hard you're sure you'll find new bruises come morning.

You like watching him from up here. The way his jaw clenches, when his head lolls back in response to whatever you're doing, the way his mouth parts in a semi-attempt to say your name or give you direction - it captivates you. You like when he’s speechless - when he can’t pull himself together long enough to tease you.

The Ghoul can feel your hips stutter when you move, grinding down harder each time for any little extra bit of friction. His thumb finds you clit and presses circles into you relentlessly, letting you use the palm of his hand to find the friction you need.

“Go ahead,” he says, breathless, “come on my cock, babydoll.”

You do, with a hand on his chest and the other hand on his wrist, holding him close and steady. It rolls down your back, down your thighs, all the way out to your fingertips, like the wasteland air burning underneath your skin. Your nails bite into his wrist, and that makes him smile - a real grin, not the smug skeleton grin you’re used to getting from him. You return it.

When the Ghoul comes, he wraps an arm around your back to keep you steady and holds you flush against his chest. You sigh at the touch of his skin against yours, his chest pressed against yours, your nipples prickling against him. You take it as he comes, grinding down on him when he fills you up. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, teeth grazing his raw skin. 

The usual question of radaway? doesn't come this time. You’re not concerned, and neither is he; the dose you took that morning would still be enough.

The Ghoul scoops you up into his side when he’s come back to his senses and rolls you onto your back. You wrap your arms around him and trail a finger down the back of his neck, just barely scratching at his skin with your nails. He burrows his face into your soft chest (the lack of nose is helpful in this regard) and closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, you say, “You know, I’ve liked you since the first time you walked into my office.”

The Ghoul glances up at you before closing his eyes again. “Can’t imagine why.”

“You were all business,” you reply. “I respect that.”

The Ghoul is quiet for a while, long enough you think he’s gone to sleep, but he answers. “Weird way to tell someone you like ‘em.”

You snort. “I’m trying to be nice, dickhead.”

You can feel him grinning against your skin. “Well, baby, that’s on you.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I’ll kick your ass out of this bed.”

“Sure you will,” he replies. “Just remember that when you roll over and grab me like you did this morning.”

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Hi dear can I request Ghost x Reader where Ghost is absolutely down for her and they are secretly in love with each other and are close to confessing, but on a mission y/n and another soldier are commanded to clear the buildings while the others stay put, but it’s a trap and they blow the building up and it collapses trapping reader from the ribs down, no one can get in and no one out and she knows it’s the end for her and ghost looses his shit. Thank you in advance ❤️

Thank you for this!!! The angsttttt I'm here for it😭😭 hopefully I did what you were looking for justice🙃❤️

You Can't Leave Me

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, crying, injury, swearing

The 141 was tasked with clearing out two buildings near Al Mazra to try and find their HVT. One of the members of AQ had taken the reigns since the death of Hassan, and you and the team needed to find him and take him out.

The boys were to secure building A, the larger building, while you and a stand-in member cleared building B, the smaller one.

Everything seemed to have gone according to plan, the team had found the HVT and took him out, and was able to gather some valuable intel along the way. Price, Gaz, Johnny and Ghost were all heading toward the exfil point, waiting for you and your partner to meet them. The team had gotten word that an influx of AQ soldiers were on their way to your location, so you were trying to get out as fast as you could.

The four of them had made it to the exfil point, when a loud explosion sounded from behind them.

"The hell was that?" Soap asked, whipping his head to the source.

"Oh my God, that's Y/N's building." Gaz said, a solemn expression taking over his face. "Was it..was it a trap?"

"No, no, no." Ghost turned on his comms. "Y/N, come in."

No response came from you, and Simon was starting to panic. This could not be happening. Not to you. "Y/N, are you there?"

Silence filled the other end of the comm, and Ghost felt his breathing quicken. The two of you were unbelievably close. Ever since you'd started in the 141, he'd taken you under his wing. As time progressed, the two of you developed a bond like no other. Simon let you in, in ways he'd never let anyone in before. You were his best friend, and he was yours. Both of you harbored deep, unspoken feelings for one another, feelings that were known to everyone else but the two of you.

"Y/N, ANSWER ME!" Ghost practically screamed into his comms. He broke out in a cold sweat, and his throat was starting to run dry.

"S-Simon. I'm here." You croaked out. The building had collapsed on you and your partner. Your partner was killed instantly by the blast, while a piece of concrete had landed in just the right angle for you to be trapped from the waist down.

"Where are you? I'll come get you. Tell me where you are."

"Simon, you can't get in here, and there's no way for me to get out. I'm trapped. It's..it's okay." You tried pulling yourself up again, to no avail. You were trapped with no way out. "It's okay."

"No its not fucking okay, Y/N tell me where you are, NOW." Simon started to make his way toward the rubble, only to be pushed back by Price.

"Simon, we can't. There's no way we can get to her. The AQ fighters will be here any minute in full force. I'm sorry. I wish there was something we could do. If it were possible, you know I would do what I could. " Price put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sorrowful look. Price was devastated himself. He pictured you as a daughter, but now was not the time to mourn. He had to get his team to safety.

"The fuck we can't! There's 4 of us, we can move the rubble, she just needs to tell us where she is!" Ghost shoved Price's arm off him. "I won't take that as an answer, John. We can not just leave her to die!"

In all the years of them working together, Simon had never talked back to Price, not once. Price knew better than to say anything, though. He knew this was tearing his lieutenant apart.

"Y/N, please. Please tell me where you are. I can't lose you. I'm begging you." Simon cried into the comms.

"I'm so sorry, Simon." You choked out a sob, not sure what to say to him. You didn't want to leave him. You didn't want to die. You could feel yourself growing weaker, as you started to inhale more and more dust from the debris. You wanted nothing more than for Simon to come and save you, but that was selfish. You couldn't bear the thought of him getting killed trying to save you. But God, what you wouldn't give to be in his arms, just one last time. "I am so thankful I had you in my life. I don't regret a second of it."

"Not like this, please. Sweetheart, there was so much I wanted to tell you." Simon pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

"Tell me now, Si. I'm here."

Simon hesitated before speaking. Part of him didn't want you to tell you right now. He wanted to hold on to hope that you'd make it out of this, that he could tell you in person. But that small part of him that knew this was likely the last time he'd ever get to tell you this, pushed him to tell you how he felt, finally.

"I was going to tell you that I love you, dammit. You're the best fucking part of my day, and that smile of yours, that goddamned smile is the only thing that keeps me going. I was going to ask you on a date when we got back. God, I want to make you mine so bad, YN." Simon's tears were flowing down his face as he struggled to get the words out. "You're my everything, kid."

Price and the others had turned their comms off and kept some distance from Simon to respect his and yours privacy. Johnny looked to his close friend, and his heart broke into a million pieces. He was watching Simon's whole being shatter before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do to help him. There was nothing he could do to save you, either. He'd never felt so helpless.

"Oh, Simon." You sobbed. "I love you too. I always have. I wish we'd had more time. I would have loved if you had been yours. I would've shown you the love you so deserve."

"So then tell me where you are, baby girl, please. We can have that. I can give you that. I can be whatever you want me to be, just let me come get you."

"Please, Si. There's no use. They will be here any minute. I won't let you risk your life for nothing."

"You're not NOTHING, Y/N." Simon shouted, his voice breaking. "I have to save you. I couldn't save them, but I can save you, please let me."

"I love you so much Simon Riley. I- I..." Your voice faded on the comms as your end of the line started to crackle.

"Y/N? Y/N!" Simon was screaming your name, to no avail. "No, no, no. No, this isn't happening. This isn't real."

He threw his gun to the ground, and started to charge at the collapsed building before Price and Johnny pulled him back.

"Simon, Simon, we can't. I'm so sorry." Price said as he stepped in front of the lieutenant.

"No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her!" He sobbed, pushing price away from him with the full force of his body.

Gaz and Johnny went to tackle Simon before he could get any further, and brought the masked man to his knees.

"Simon, we've got to go. I'm so sorry, mate." Johnny tried to meet his friend's eyes, but Simon was beyond hysterical.

"God DAMMIT, Y/N! I'm sorry, I failed you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Simon threw his head into his hands and sobbed, not caring who saw him. This couldn't be the end for you. He was finally ready to open himself up to you, finally ready to be with you. It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on him. It couldn't end like this….could it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 59)

Two more weeks had gone by, a new sense of normalcy beginning to take hold within the household. Uzi would wake up around 4 or 5 am, sometimes she would be dizzy enough to get sick, other times she was woken up by hunger pains or just a random ache in general.

Then N would be up soon after, either sensing something being wrong or just jostled awake by her movement and he would do his best to make her feel better, sweet nothings, kisses, cuddles, anything and everything.

The hunger was increasing, the silicone chips weren't enough and neither was the oil, but she didn't know what else to do.

She was having a dream…

She was… outside. Not just home, outside of the bunker, flitting between buildings, sniffing the air and feeling the rough concrete beneath her claws as she dug them in. Her stomach growled painfully and her tail swung low.

There was a worker walking through the desolate city streets, looking around, wary and scared. Their back was hunched over, looking up and to the side.

She slunk closer, the worker had blue eyes, glasses, and no hair… as far as she could tell, but it might have been hidden under his helmet. It didn't matter anyway. Her stomach growled louder.

She glided down further, perching in a peice of rebar as she readied herself, wings arching backward as they prepared to lunge her forward.

Then the wind was screaming down around her as she rocketed towards the ground at high speeds, tackling the drone from behind as he let out a terrified yelp, they both went skidding across the slick ground for a moment before they stopped, her claws dug into his back, through his clothes and deep into his casing.

“No! No- no! Don't kill me! Please!” He screamed and begged, but Uzi quickly shut him up, sinking her teeth deep into his neck, oil gushed into her mouth as her prey thrashed wildly, trying desperately to buck her off as his voice box gargled.

Her tail wrapped around him, holding him down as she sunk her teeth deeper, savoring the taste of fresh oil, she held him until the thrashing slowed to a stop, hands came up to try to pry her off but were quick to loose function, until he finally went limp.

She waited a few more seconds before releasing the body, letting it slump into a heap in front of her, she licked the oil off her lips, growling in delight as she looked over her kill.

Then, without another moments hesitation, used her claws to rip him open, exposing the tangle of wires, metal frame, and dead core to the world. The oil wasn't what she was after…

She sunk her open maw into the open chest cavity, and began to eat her meal…the titanium, the silicone, and rubber all mixing into a heavenly cocktail that had her closing her eyes, she was starving…

She woke up far more gently then she expected after a dream like that. She felt around in her mouth only to realize she was drooling and snapped up. N was sound asleep beside her, hand outstretched like he had been holding it in his sleep.

She was drooling? After having a dream about hunting and eating someone…

Hunger hit her fast and hard, harder then it ever had before and she doubled over, clutching her stomach. She hissed in pain, squirming helplessly against it. N was jostled awake, and he turned on the light before trying to comfort her.

“Uzi… what-?”

“Hungry.”

“W-what?”

“Hungry!” She yelled, not having the wherewithal to say anything else, N just blinked before running off into the kitchen, finding that the cabinets were all empty, Uzi had eaten everything in the house And he'd only bought more snacks a couple days ago.

She'd mentioned that the snacks were not working as well, but he hadn't expected how quickly he'd gone through them. Okay N, think, clearly snacks weren't working, what else could it be?

What had seemed to work to sort out her cravings before? Silicone chips, oil, rubber chews…

Wait…

What were drones made out of again?

Like a lightbulb that had gone off in his head, he sprinted out the door without bothering to change and made the trek to the nursery, scaring the life out of Mrs. Rayn, who looked like she'd just gotten there, which made sense… it was 5 am.

“N!? What are you doing here at this hour?” She yelped at him, looking from side to side.

“I'm sorry. Do you- do you have the material to print a body just… lying around?” He asked quickly, face flushed as Rayn looked at him suspiciously.

“If you're asking me to print a baby N, it would take a few days, and I'd need to have proof of Uzi carrying neural network code.”

“No! Uh, not that. I just need the raw material.” He explained, trying not to give away his immense fluster, or the fact she was carrying a neural network code.

She stared at him before sighing and going into the back, coming out with a roll of titanium, a little brick of silicone, and a ball of rubber. “Here, don't know what you need them for… but here.” She handed them off and he quickly said thank you before sprinting back through the hallway to his apartment and skidded inside the door.

“Uzi?! I’m back! I have something that might help!” He shouted, briskly walking into the bedroom with the items he'd acquired. But…

Uzi was gone.

[gravegroves]

Cleaning up my google docs and posting the stuff I think isn't entirely terrible. Enjoy.

Tags & warnings: horror themes, Karen is the Mindflayer, Karen is a warning all on her own, non-graphic references to injury, Billy and Heather friendship, blink and you'll miss it reference to possible future Steve/Billy and Robin/Heather

Rating: M for horror

There's something wrong with Karen Wheeler

*****

He fucked up.

Billy knows this.

Inviting her to the motel for private swimming lessons had been really fucking stupid in retrospect. Still, he'd sat there on that musty motel bed all dolled up and waited for a woman he knew he wouldn't be able to stay hard for and had gotten panicky because of it.

Not that she had shown up in the end. Thank god.

Barely five seconds past the arranged meeting time and Billy had slammed out of the room like the devil was on his ass. He'd sprinted to the Camaro and hightailed it out of there with the windows rolled down low and the night air drying the nervous sweat on his brow, bringing with it a little bit of clarity. He'd laughed around the unlit cigarette pinched between his lips and let the relief wash over him like a potent high. As the rush of adrenalin slowly drained from his system, it had left his hands shaky and clammy on the wheel but his foot heavy on the gas, eager to get home for once.

A bullet dodged.

Or so he had thought.

*****

The next morning Billy saunters out into the pool area in his usual red board shorts and immediately notices Mrs Wheeler lounging in her customary spot, nestled in amongst the row of other preening moms desperate for a scrap of his attention. The hungry stares usually fill him with a great sense of confidence — there's nothing quite as intoxicating as feeling wanted — but now they only make him feel nauseous.

Mrs. Wheeler is clothed from head to toe, making her stick out like a sore thumb next to her peers and situated in such a way that the umbrella above her is keeping her fully in the shade. Her gaze snaps to him the second his bare feet connect with the hot concrete and Billy feels a chill running up his spine out of fucking nowhere. His swagger stutters for a second, all the confidence lost in a moment of surprise. He catches himself easily enough, compliments Mrs Groyer on her new hat and power walks over to his chair, eager to pass by Mrs Wheeler without any kind of contact. He swears he can feel her eyes on his back the entire way over. Confirms it when he climbs up into his seat and looks back over to find her gaze still fixed on him, unblinking.

What the fuck has he gotten himself into?

*****

Morning passes into afternoon uneventfully, though Billy finds himself increasingly distracted. It's hard not to with Mrs Wheeler openly staring at him every time his gaze flits to her end of the pool and by the end of the day it's gone from weird and bewildering to downright creepy. He fully expects the woman to get up and walk up to the guard station at any second, so Billy spends his entire shift at the edge of his seat, waiting.

But she never moves.

All she does is stare.

*****

The rush of relief from the previous night has all but evaporated by closing time. A few stragglers are still hanging around and trying to squeeze in a few extra minutes in the water before Billy or Heather decide to kick them out. At the end of the pool, all alone, still as a statue, Karen Wheeler continues to lounge and watch him just as she has been all goddamn day.

Billy doesn't know what to do. He's had girls all over him for the past couple of years, but it's never been like this. He doesn't even know what this is.

Heather had caught on to his situation a few hours ago and while at first she had laughed at him from the shade of the front desk, now she shoots him worried looks between scooping pool noodles out of the water, trying to ask him without words what the hell is going on. Not that Mrs Wheeler ever seems to take her eyes off Billy long enough to notice Heather at all. Billy wouldn't even know how to answer the question anyway, so he just shrugs in response and ignores the prickling on his neck as he goes about checking the pool filter.

Half past eight and Billy kicks out the last two idiots he finds hiding behind the supply shed. He sneaks a last peak around the pool and feels a wave of relief wash over him when Mrs Wheeler's lounge chair is empty for the first time all day. A more thorough sweep of the area and Billy still doesn't catch sight of the woman.

Rushed by this sudden window of being unobserved, Billy quickly wipes down the guard chair and heads directly for the changing rooms, determined to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. He thinks he hears Heather calling out to him as the door swings shut, but Billy has tunnel-visioned in on his objective:

Get changed. Get out of there. Fuck the shower, he'll take one at home.

Except there's a Karen-sized problem standing between Billy and his locker and he freezes mid-step upon entering the changing room.

Under the fluorescent light Mrs Wheeler almost looks blue, her unusually pale skin taking to the light in an odd way. Her clothes are soaked and Billy notices a trail of water leading from the puddle at her feet and out into the showers. In her hand is a bottle of something that looks like the bleach they use for cleaning the floors.

Her eyes are dark and empty and so intently fixed on Billy that his skin begins to crawl as if a thousand spiders have suddenly made a home of his body. She takes a step forward and Billy feels absolutely pinned under her gaze, fight or flight abandoning his brain and leaving him absolutely petrified for some unknown reason.

The door swings open behind him and Heather barges through the door, looking wide-eyed but with a wide smile already plastered onto her face.

"Mrs Wheeler!" Heather's bright, fake-cheerful voice cuts through the silence of the locker room, almost making a mockery out of Billy's panicked state. God, what is wrong with him? "I'm so sorry to do this, but Billy and I really need to close the pool down now. If you wouldn't mind…" Heather steps back and gestures at the door with her whole hand, the same way they've been told to do by their boss time and time again. It's inviting, apparently. Billy never really got the memo, his pointer finger works just fine. But even with a gun to his head, Billy doesn't think he could have worked his muscles to point the way out in that moment, rooted to the spot as he is.

The woman's entire demeanour changes before their eyes. Her gaze fills somehow, feels less like a mannequin staring at you from a Sears storefront and more like somebody's at home in there somewhere.

"Oh, of course!" Mrs Wheeler places the bottle on the bench with the hollow thunk of an empty plastic container. "I just wanted to ask if Billy was still up for those private swimming lessons."

She says it without a hint of innuendo, but from the way Heather's brows climb her forehead she reads the meaning loud and clear. Not exactly Billy's best work.

"All booked out, sorry Mrs W," Billy grins, regaining some of the swagger he seems to have lost along with his balls.

"Well, you let me know if that changes." Mrs Wheeler smiles politely and moves towards the door.

"Sure thing," Billy promises, already sure he's never going to approach Karen Wheeler for anything ever again if he can help it. She walks past them, bringing with her a stinging odour of chemicals and something sickly sweet, like rotting meat.

The changing room door finally slams closed. Heather turns to him.

"For real?"

Billy smirks a little, despite himself.

"She stayed for your entire shift to ask about private swimming lessons?"

"Guess I'm just worth the wait," Billy licks his bottom lip and bites it suggestively.

She shoots him an unimpressed look with a muttered, "Sure, sure," and drops her duffle onto the bench, "You gonna drive me home for saving your ass, or what? Mrs Wheeler is probably hiding in a bush somewhere waiting to jump me for interrupting your little moment." 

He rolls his eyes, "In your wildest dreams, loser."

Heather gives him a pitying look. "Private. Swimming. lessons."

Billy chokes, "God, I fucking hate you."

She grins and wiggles her fingers at him mockingly, "No you don't."

He doesn't. Heather is the closest thing to a real friend Billy's ever had, truth be told, the only good thing about this shit-stinking, two-horse town in Billy's not so humble opinion.

"I'm getting changed in here. Whatever that was–" she waves her hand at the door, "–creeps me the hell out. Turn around so I don't scar you for life."

"Why? Still padding your bra with socks?"

She makes an insistent spinning gesture with her hand and Billy turns around and drops his pants without a second thought. "I've got bigger tits than you, doll. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"But if I see your cock I'll never forgive you, dickhead."

"Better not look at my head then."

Heather snorts.

When Billy leaves this awful place behind he's going to do his best to convince her to come with him, he'll miss the hell out of her if she decides to stay.

In the end Billy does drive her home, if only because the image of Karen Wheeler crouched in the bushes out along the road somewhere pops into his head and won't leave him alone.

Figures Billy would cross the craziest bitch in all of Hawkins.

Just his luck.

*****

Karen is right back in her lounge chair by the time Billy arrives for his shift the next day. Her clothes are the same ones from the day before and Billy briefly imagines the woman laid out on the chair all night, motionless, waiting for Billy to return.

But she doesn't approach him, she never even says a word. She lies in her lounge, covered from head to toe, tucked into the shade of her umbrella and stares and stares and stares.

*****

Heather arrives at noon to take over for Adam and immediately zeroes in on Mrs Wheeler.

"Your biggest fan is back," she says in lieu of a greeting, as if Billy isn't very fucking aware of the fact and doing his best to ignore it. "She really can't take her eyes off of you, huh?"

Billy can't even muster the energy to find something to say to that. He'd slept like shit the night before, nightmares of Karen hunting him through the woods and hiding in bushes waking him up in a cold sweat. Every time he'd tried to fall back asleep he'd sworn he could hear something scuttling around outside his window, keeping him wide awake way into the early hours of the morning.

All of this because of private swimming lessons? Billy can't help but feel like he dodged a bullet, only to take a dive into a pool of quicksand.

"Look what I made," Heather singsongs and pulls out two cardboard squares chequered into a five by five grid and wiggles them under his nose, "Maybe this will cheer you up."

Billy grins at her and accepts his square. It's become a bit of a tradition on Friday shifts to play this game of theirs. Billy already has his pen out and ready to go, desperately grateful for the distraction.

For the rest of the afternoon they sit on opposite sides of the pool, Billy in the chair, Heather at the hole-in-the-wall front desk and play Hawkins Community Pool Bingo. Billy almost inhales his whistle when he reads the square written in Heather's neat, precise handwriting that says: 'Mr Klaufeld's balls slip out of his speedo again', grimaces at the 'kid vomits in the pool' square, hoping that one doesn't get crossed today even if it means winning. He outright scowls when, instead of a free space in the centre, it says 'Mrs Wheeler creeps on Billy'. Billy immediately crosses that one off the board and flips the bird across the pool, only to receive a jolly wave in return.

By closing time not a single kid has drowned, which is a miracle in and of itself with Billy distracted on two fronts not related to his job. This time, however, as Billy and Heather herd out the last of the stragglers, there is no sign of Mrs Wheeler inside the community pool centre or outside of it.

Billy doesn't know when she left, but a quick peek out into the parking lot confirms that the only car left is his own.

"Maybe she gave up," Heather says and spins the bundle of keys around her finger. Billy is about to open his mouth to answer her when he catches sight of movement out among the trees past the fence and freezes.

The last light of the day may be fading fast, but there's enough of it for Billy to see half of Karen Wheeler's face poking out from behind a tree and staring right at him.

Billy doesn't know why — it's an almost hilariously absurd situation to find himself in; a fully grown woman playing hide and seek with him like a toddler — but the sight of her face slowly disappearing back behind the trunk of the tree immediately has all the hairs on his body standing on end and tears springing to his eyes.

Something is wrong with this picture.

Something is very wrong with Karen Wheeler.

"Heather," he whispers, and the terror in his voice must be so clearly audible, because she immediately snaps around to look at him and then off in the direction he's facing.

"What is it?" She whispers back, "What did you see?"

"There's someone behind that tree."

Someone. 

They stand there, frozen, like two deer catching the scent of a predator on the wind and waiting to hear the snap of a twig.

A full minute ticks by. Only the faint sound of wind rustling the treetops and the occasional gurgle from the pool filter disrupts the absolute silence that falls over them.

Heather shifts on the spot.

"Just wait," he begs, voice shaky. Eyes watering from trying not to blink, still fixated on that tree, "I swear I'm not fucking around."

It's too much. This is too much.

Eventually Heather takes a step away from him and makes a shushing motion when he opens his mouth to protest. He tenses his body, thinking that she's going to leave him there all alone, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the tree Billy keeps looking at while she moves away, trying to get a view from a different angle.

That turns out to be a huge mistake.

Heather reaches the other end of the fence and just as she does, she chokes on a sudden inhale of surprise just as Mrs Wheeler comes sprinting out from behind the tree, heading straight for Billy.

She eats up the distance in a matter of seconds, but her face is so dreadfully blank that for a moment Billy doesn't react at all, the absolute absurdity of what he's witnessing freezing him to the spot once again.

She's so fast, is all he can think as she nears the patch of grass leading up to the pool area, but before she reaches it Heather grabs onto his hand and yanks him toward the gate.

"Come ON!" She screams, just as Mrs Wheeler reaches the fence. And starts scaling it like a goddamn spider.

With the image of that burned into his mind, the pair of them sprint to the gate and reach it just as a sickening crunch of meat and bones landing on concrete rings out across the pool area. Billy barely has time to process the image of Mrs Wheeler snapping her ankles back into place as Heather frantically flicks through the keys to lock the gate behind them, her hands shaking too violently to guide it once she finds it.

"C'mon, c'mon, come, ON!" she says between gritted teeth and lets out a cry of frustration before Billy takes over and jams the key in to the tiny opening and locks the gate with a click.

"Run!" Billy calls out and this time he's the one to pull Heather along into the parking lot.

The clinking of chain link fence straining under added weight sounds out for the second time, but Billy doesn't dare waste any time witnessing that unnatural spider scrawl again, just puts all of his focus into getting to the Camaro and locking the doors with a decisive thunk once they're both safely inside.

Billy doesn't hesitate, jamming the key into the ignition and revving the engine with a roar before he backs the car out of the space with a screech of tires. There is a blur of a body rushing past the passenger side window, landing with another sickening thud and Heather presses herself back over the centre console, keening in terror as Mrs Wheeler slowly gets back up, hair wild, skin bruised and bloody, her face still a blank slate as she turns to look in through the window at them both.

"Billy, GO!" Heather pleads and Billy steps on the gas and speeds the Camaro out of the parking lot.

In the rearview mirror, Billy watches as a human form steps out onto the road to watch them speed away for just a moment before slinking to the edge of the forest and melting back into the darkness.

Heather is slumped in the passenger seat, shivering and panting. Billy's own hands are steady only because they're white knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, she turns to look at him with an uncertain smile, voice just this side of shrill.

"I think maybe it's time to find a job at the mall."

"Yeah," Billy laughs shakily, "I heard Scoops Ahoy is hiring."

.

.

.

[nuwanda24]

Take Me to Church - Merlin

Just realised how perfect Hozier's Take Me to Church fits Merlin:

"A fresh poison each week" - it's meant metaphorically, but we all know how literal that is in the context of Merlin. There's not a single week that goes by without some magical threat or someone trying to poison/otherwise assassinate Arthur

"We were born sick, you heard them say it" - Merlin was born with magic, he's magic incarnate; Arthur on the other hand only got conceived through magic, so they were both "born sick" from Uther's of view

"If I'm a pagan of the good times" - Merlin basically is a God of the Old Religion, a pagan belief that symbolises the "good time" in which magic was free

"My lover's the sunlight" - Arthur is, as is well established in the fandom, extremely sun-coded, not only visualy with his golden hair. He is the crown prince, later king, everybody looks up to him while noone dares to come too close (despite Merlin). He burns with an incredible brightness for his people, for Camelot, but in the end, he burns out, just as every sun will do eventually. Merlin, on the other hand, is the night or moon to Arthur's sun. He keeps in Arthur's shadow, never seeking attention or retribution for all that he has done. He has to work in the dark in order to ensure that Arthur and by extend Camelot can be safe. He hates it (remember his rant in S3E11 "I hate it, to be the most powerful person I know and to have to act like a shadow, to be special and to have to play the fool"), but he willingly and glady sacrifices his own light so that Arthur's can burn brighter.

"To keep the goddess on my side" - I don't remember if this is canon or just something that most of the fanfics I've read agreed on, but the Triple Goddess is presumably responsible for the whole prophecy regarding Emrys and the Once and Future King, and Merlin needs to keep her on his side, in order to fulfill his destiny.

"She demands a sacrifice" - this could either be the Cailleach in S4E1-2 The Darkest Hour who demands a life as sacrifice to close the veil between the world of the living and the dead; or it is about Arthur, who needs to die in order to be able to rise again in Albion's greatest time of need.

The Bridge is: "No masters or kings when the ritual begins / There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin / In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / Only then, I am human, only then, I am clean". - that part is less concret, but it still reminds me of Arthur's death scene - only Arthur and Merlin are left to witness it, there are no knights, no Gwen, no Camelot, no titles or rank, nothing but the two of them and their love for each other, the bond they share. And I think that in many instances Arthur was the one who kept Merlin in touch with his humanity. Yes, he was also the reason why Merlin crossed boundary after boundary, making him hate himself more and more and making him believe himself to be a monster, but I don't think he's ever felt as human (and as powerless) as the moment he felt Arthur die in his arms.

And then there's the chorus: "I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies" - Merlin worships Arthur, there's nothing he wouldn't do for that man, no matter how much he insults him or how hypocritical his actions might be. Arthur can break any promise, tell any lie (not that he does that very often), Merlin will still be there. And in the end, like Odysseus' dog Argus, he waited and waited on the shores of Avalon for the day that Arthur might finally come back to him.

"I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife" - I mean, that's literally what happens. Merlin tells Arthur about his powers, and you can't tell me that he wouldn't have allowed him (after he'd have forced him to get healed and ensured that Arthur would live) to put any punishment upon him, even death, that he wouldn't have preferred to die by Arthur's knife than to have to live without him.

"Offer me that deathless death, oh, good God, let me give you my life" - how often does Merlin offer his own life for Arthur's? From the very episode on, he throws himself between his prince and everything and everyone trying to harm him, from knives over curses, to drinking poison and Dorochas. And there were so many instances where he should have died but didn't, suffering (or surviving) a deathless death.

The song just perfectly depicts Merlin's (unhealthy) devotion to his king, and how that feeds on his soul.

[itsgrimeytime]

The Nurse (Part Four) || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Taglist: @strnqer @1985bitch @curlycarley @imaginemyfavoritefics @t-uroboros @crazytxgradstudent @addisonnie @whos6claire @taylvvrr @quicksilversg1rl @catt-leya @1tsk1tty @pascalshearts @hopefulatrocity @xoyouronlyamorrxo @fuseburner @idkseraphine @all-for-kpop @carlgrimeskisser @emo-potato-virgil

Summary: Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search of shelter, you run into a familiar face.

TWS: Blood, gore, mentions of death, gun violence (just violence in general), swearing, angst, angsty!Rick, hallucinations, and all things typical of TWD.

[[A/N: Thank you all so much for the outpour of support :))), I hope I can do right by you guys and this story. I kind of have a plan, but we'll see where it goes. Thanks for reading, and enjoy! This one is based loosely off Rick's hallucinations of Lori, etc. A short update for the girlies (gn). Expect some slowburn soon :)]]

"Y/N?" Beth spoke as you shifted around -Judith tied tight to your chest in a makeshift carrier (out of sheets for a few of the extra cells) so you could still do the rounds. She was under your care until further notice because of a cough she'd seemed to gather from someone.

"Beth, hey," you answered, relaxing slightly at the unrushed tone of her voice -you'd been waiting for the emergency to come. The one where your hands would shake and your breath would quicken, but you'd still remember exactly what to do.

It was a relaxing feeling, your body knowing better than your head -the stress of a life on your hands would make them shake, but your brain wouldn't stop the function.

Then, you looked at her.

"Beth? What's wrong?"

She frowned, biting at her bottom lip and you could see the shine of tears in her eyes, "Daryl saw Rick standing aimlessly in the yard. He said he was crying-"

"Okay, okay," you spoke, placing your hands on her shoulders, "-calm down. Did he seem lucid?"

"I don't- I don't know," she stuttered out, her tone shaky and just... scared, "-Daryl said he was getting too close to the fence. I mean, he can't be-"

"Alright," you took a deep breath, hoping to get her to match it, "-let's get you and Judith to Maggie, okay? And I'll go check on Rick."

Your steps were quick with a purpose, and it felt distantly like your life before. Instead of concrete and barbed wire fences, it was white hallways and the squeak of tennis shoes. It was nostalgic, almost, but it was short-lived.

"Maggie," you spoke, hushed, "-can you keep an eye on these two? I've got to-"

"I know," she answered, hugging Judith to her chest - eyes a bit fallen and a shine of fear as bright as you'd seen it. Your eyes flickered to behind her, where the big blue eyes you'd found familiar looked at you - Carl.

You nodded with your lips sealed, knowing Rick would've rather this be private. No one wanted their issues so plastered as his were. With a sensitive structure as the apocalypse could only create, seeing their leader in this state could only do harm.

Your steps echoed through the halls along the concrete as you made your way to the courtyard - which was still fenced in, but if you got too close...

Your feet sped up.

Daryl was along the outskirts of the fence, and probably the least composed you'd ever seen him, hands messing through his hair and fidgeting along his clothes.

"He's just-" his voice faltered, just slightly, "-just starin'."

Sure enough, Rick was in the courtyard -eyes distant as he faced away from you to, into an empty corner. He looked purposeful, though; his stance curved forward as his head hung ever so slightly -like it was resting against something but there was thin air in front of him.

"No," you spoke, focusing on the hum you could hear, "-he's speaking too. Whispers."

"Whose he talkin' too?"

You started at the man, his open defeat, vulnerability, and the gentle whisper of his tone. He could trust them, or at least he had once. Just then, in the way the sun landed across the field, his wedding band glimmered.

"I think I know."

Daryl didn't say anything else as you stepped forward into the area, slow and precise. You carefully stepped among the grass -just to avoid startling him. It could only worsen what he'd been experiencing or what you assumed he was.

"Rick?" You questioned, so soft it was almost a whisper. The man didn't move an inch, head still tilted forward, and eyes trained ahead of himself. He stood a fair bit away from any oncoming walkers, so the danger wasn't immense. You could take this as slow as you needed.

"Rick?" You hummed again, gentle and barely a tone above the first one.

You were close enough to hear him now, his tone was quiet, but you could hear it -a desperate plea, "I'm sorry."

"Rick..." you whispered, as close as you felt he'd be comfortable with at the moment, "Rick, can you hear me?"

He didn't move toward you or move his head at the sound, yet he responded -tone just a hair above a whisper, gravelly and distraught, "Yes."

"Okay, good," you spoke in response, "-who are you talking to, Rick?"

You had an idea, but confirming it could only help. Assessing the situation calmly was the main key to talking someone down in any sort of situation -other than comfort and making sure no one was getting hurt.

"Lori," he spoke, not necessarily in response, but more so pleading, "-god, Lori, I'm so sorry. I couldn't- I didn't protect you and Carl."

He was gulping through air, breaths becoming shallower and the tears falling faster. Now, was the time to intervene, as the walkers stirred against the fences -thrashing and hopeless.

"Rick," you spoke, tone calm and settled, "-what's going on with Lori?"

"I just," he spoke, so quick after your question, you weren't sure it was an answer, "I just wanted to apologize. I could've-"

"Rick," you hummed, "-just breathe. Lori's not..."

"I know," he spoke, gravelly and direct. His tone was cold, and you felt a sort of unsettled chill down your spine, "-I know, she's not..."

He faltered off, eyes more lucid now -the fog you'd once seen not quite there now, but not exactly looking at you. His hands fidgeting at his sides, and his eyes stayed focused on the ground below him.

You didn't want to overstay or cross a boundary, so you stayed put. There was still an intimacy there, as you watched Rick curl into himself -hands moving at his eyes as if to wipe away tears that weren't there yet.

"Has Carl..." he started up, the whispery drawl low and almost... desperate, "-did he see me like this?"

"No," you answered, soft and reassured.

He laughed, a little bitterly, as he placed his head in his hands. His posture sinking, and his breaths becoming deeper -you stayed still, "Good."

You hummed, and your brain was distant with its constant worries, you felt your heart speak for a moment, "Rick?"

He spoke then, soft and quiet, barely a word. You took this as a notion to continue.

"I'm sorry. No one... no one deserves to have that pain. Especially you and Carl. You're-" you faltered, losing your words, "It's not your fault."

Rick stayed still, the hollow hum of his breaths being the only thing that really gave you the clue he was breathing. And you didn't even really know if he was listening, but you decided to take a chance on it.

"It'll be easier," you spoke, voice a little unsteady, "-eventually. I... I know."

He stayed quiet there, for a few more moments. The only noise was the distant wails of walkers, and the buzzing of some bugs around you. As you pushed on your heart, letting it seap through just to give someone comfort. You'd lost a lot, and you didn't think you'd ever talk about it. Not now, at least.

In your urge to comfort him, you'd joined him in the grass -almost unintentionally, you navigated to him. It was natural to you, comforting someone in a tough situation. Soft words, well wishes, hopeful promises.

Then, as your heart clenched in your chest and your eyes fogged up in just... grief, your hand was suddenly warmer than it had once been. Your eyes flicked to your hand in alarm, dispelling what had come on just before and-

There it was, he was holding your hand.

The gesture was innocent, really, a rock between the two of you -a sort of solidarity. The blades of grass under your fingertips just as grounding, but this was personal. An acknowledgement that despite not knowing each other that well... there was support there between the two of you.

With the shakiness of an inhaling breath, you murmured -just as low as the buzzing of the bugs, "Thank you."

Rick didn't respond, and he didn't really need to then. You understood enough.

[a-heart-attack-ow]

Stockholm Syndrome. Part One.

Warnings: Smut, NSFW Unedited

Summary: You're a singer who saw something you shouldn't have and now there's no going back.

Part One:

You hadn't meant to see it all. 

The blood, the bodies, and the unmasked culprits. 

The evidence that would be damning. 

You'd finished your set at the local bar, playing until closing, but when you emerged from your backstage dressing room that's when you saw it all. You froze, but it was too late. Too late to get away or run, because one of the culprits, a blonde with blue eyes, had you pinned to the ground. You didn't even have a chance to try and fight back before you'd been yanked to the ground. The blond pulled your hands behind your back and you could feel the rough sensation of the ropes entangling around your wrists. The sound of another set of footsteps comes from behind you, your body tenses up with cruel anticipation. Fear grips you. The second set of steps stops right next to you, but with your face still firmly planted in the ground you can't turn back to face them. Instead, all you can do is wait for whatever they're going to do next. 

"Put this one in the car. The boss will want to see her."

The voice is dripping with malice, but you know there's nothing you can do. You notice the blonde with blue eyes as he lifts you from the ground, he looks at you blankly as he hands the other man your purse and the guitar you'd been carrying. Without speaking a single word, you see the blue-eyed man reach for a hood that he uses to cover your face so you can't see a thing. You feel the panic rise within you as he lifts you over his shoulder, carrying you like you weigh nothing. You want to fight, but you also don't want to make it worse by doing something. Instead, you try to calm yourself and focus. This is all you can do as you feel the man carrying you from the bar, out a door, and into a car. From the muffled sound of cars moving down the street, you realize they must've been parked in the alleyway at the back of the building. Concealed away from any prying eyes that might've caught a glimpse of what was currently happening. No one speaks as they toss you into the back seat of the car, the man who'd been carrying you lazily strapping you into the seat. 

You were uncomfortable in your seat, it turns out sitting with your hands behind your back wasn't an ideal feeling. Once the car starts to move you try to focus on the direction the car turns, mentally attempting to remember how many lefts and rights there had been. You feel that you must've been keeping track, but are unsure if you're accurate. You jump when the men in the front of the car turn on music, so loud you can't hear yourself think. Something they must've been doing to keep you distracted from your mental tally of where the vehicle had been going. You try your best to not let the music deter you, but you can't deny that it was making it hard to focus as you had been. After a while, you just sit there and pray that no matter what happens it will all work out. You're afraid for your life, even more so when the car stops, the engine turns off, the music stops playing, and you hear the two men leave the front of the car. The slamming of their doors causes the car to shake, but you're only alone inside for a moment before you feel the same gruff hands that brought you to the car unbuckle you once again. He's just as rough throwing you over his shoulder as he'd been previously, the sharp pain of his shoulder causing you to tense up momentarily. 

Wherever you are, it's quiet. The air is still and there's a faint smell of the ocean. Upon smelling the ocean you can hear the waves crashing on the shore. The sound fades when you hear the sound of a metal door opening, your captor taking you inside of a building. The building echoes the sounds of the man's feet along the concrete. Your head is spinning as you hear him walk up some stairs, before opening another door. The second you're tucked inside, you feel the vibe instantly change. Without seeing a single thing, you know that wherever you are is different from before. You smell the smoke of a cigarette, and hear the floorboards creak underneath heavy footsteps. You hear the sound of a dark chuckle from across the room, a sound that causes a chill to move up your spine. 

"What's this? Did you bring me a gift, Sam?"

The man's voice is deep, and for some reason it causes you to clench your legs together. Your body seems to react for a reason you couldn't place. The man carrying you over his shoulder laughs as you feel him pull you from his shoulders and lay you down onto something soft. A couch from the feel of it. Suddenly you're aware of what is going on. You're in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline and it barely covers your body. You realize you're in a room with two, or more, men and you feel dread build within you. You couldn't help but worry about what their plans were with you and what that might mean. 

"The girl was performing tonight, we thought she'd left after her set, but she stumbled out when we were in the middle of finishing the job. Couldn't risk leaving her behind."

The blue-eyed man speaks to the other, repeating the events leading to now as if he were speaking to a drill sergeant. Whoever the other man was, he was clearly a man of great power. The other man chuckles again and I hear the sound of footsteps approaching the couch. 

"A singer huh? Well, let me unwrap the gift you so kindly brought me."

you feel my stomach drop when he says this, suddenly I'm frozen and any logical desire to fight back flees. I hear the man move closer to me, and wince when I feel his hand carefully trace over the mask that was still covering my face. When you feel the mask pull from over your head, it takes your eyes a few minutes to adjust. The room was dimly lit, with a few lamps randomly around the room, but it was still far brighter than it had been inside of the mask. Once your eyes do adjust you see the lamps, covered with light fabric, enough to dim the lights without putting them out. you dare to glance up and see the man you'd seen in the club staring back at you, his face unkind as he studies you. For a moment you refuse to look at the other man, you're too afraid to, but when you do you're met by one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen. He, like your captor, had blue eyes that stared directly into your soul. He sat in front of you on a coffee table, his dark hair in his face and a backward baseball cap on his head. A smirk meets his lips as he looks at you. Without asking, he reaches out to smooth out your long dark locks that had been messed up when the mask was pulled from your head. Once your hair is straightened out to his liking, he studies you closely. Noting your full lips before glancing down at your body. He bites down on the bottom of his lip as he sees the way you're practically spilling out of your low-cut dress. Seemingly happy with how full your bust is. 

"Well, aren't you a pretty little bird?"

He rasps this, his voice low as he glances over every single inch of your body. You aren't sure of what to think of the man in front of you. He's handsome, that much you can admit to yourself, but there's something about him that was off putting. You were afraid of whatever he was going to do next. 

"She sings like one too."

You hear the man called Sam rasp and you feel your stomach drop once more. Unable to shake the anxiety of being in the presence of two men who were staring at you like a piece of meat. The man in front of you smirks, he glances at Sam and practically growls. 

"I wonder how pretty she sounds when you're inside of her."

Something about the way he says it causes you to clench your legs together. Just like before, you were unaware of why your body was reacting the way that it was. You didn't know this man and you didn't know what he was going to do with you, but a part of you wanted to see what he had planned. Maybe it was because he was so attractive or maybe it was because it had been a minute since you felt aroused by someone. Either way, you were intrigued, even if it was against your better judgment. The man notices the way you clench your legs together, the way you peer back at him with honest intrigue dancing in your eyes. He bites his lip once more and turns his attention to Sam once more. 

"You can go Sam. I think my little bird wants to play."

You keep your eyes locked with the man in front of you, unable to look away. Neither one of you speaks until the sound of Sam leaving the room and closing the door behind him forces you to realize you are truly alone. The sound of the door locking behind Sam is further confirmation that you're all alone. 

"What's your name Sweetheart?"

The man asks, reaching into his pocket. You watch on as he pulls out a vape from his pocket and takes a hit. He breathes it in deeply before blowing the smoke into your face. His eyebrows raise expectedly after a moment of you not responding, and you decide not to keep him waiting.

"y/n. What's yours?

You ask quietly. Unsure of what he's going to do next. He takes another hit, blowing the smoke in your face once more as he tilts his head. He looks at you like you're his new favorite toy, like the possibilities of what he's going to do to you next are endless. A part of you wanted to know what he'd do. A part of you hoped he wouldn't keep you waiting too long to find out. 

"Colby."

You study Colby for a second, your eyes finally pulling away from his face. You notice the half-sleeve tattoo, you notice the black T-shirt, and the black leather pants. Every inch of him looked like it'd been picked from a magazine like he was a model. But from what you gathered from the sight at the bar, he was the man in charge of something that was highly illegal. The setting of his room seemed like an eclectic, mixing of random furniture that's been pulled off the streets. He leans forward, re-capturing your attention at his closer proximity. 

"Sam says you saw something you shouldn't have y/n and that makes you a liability to what operation I have going on here..."

He pauses, noticing the momentary look of fear that overtakes your face. 

"... Baby, I have other options for you. You don't need to be scared."

He speaks softly, putting his vape on the coffee table next to him. His blue eyes soften as he moves from the coffee table to the couch beside you. Carefully he uses his left hand to trace over your bound arms, before moving towards the rope holding you in place. You feel the goosebumps rise on your skin as he touches you and he notices. 

"y/n, if I untie this will you stay where you are? I hate seeing you look so uncomfortable." 

Would you run? No, you wouldn't run. You wouldn't dare when you knew he had men working for him. You were sure he had more than the two that had been at the club and you wouldn't be that stupid to run when he hadn't even harmed you yet. You shake your head 'no' which earns an amused nod from Colby. He wastes no time moving his hands to the knot, undoing it seamlessly. You feel him grab the rope from your body and hear it land on the floor from behind you. It's only when you feel the release of the ropes that you realize how tightly they've been. You feel the blood rush back into them, but you remain exactly where you were, not moving an inch. Colby's amusement grows when you don't move from your spot, remaining exactly how you were placed by Sam. The only difference now was that your hands were free. 

"Thank you."

You whisper shyly, daring to glance over at him. Now he's leaned back on the couch, your heel-clad feet inches from his lap. With his left arm draped over the side of the couch, he looked down at you contemplating what he was going to do next. 

"You're a polite little bird aren't you?"

His voice sounds deeper as he reaches to grasp your right arm. He pulls you up onto your knees, your face mere inches from his. 

"I don't wanna hurt you y/n. I think you might be of great use to me, but I need to know you're not going to say anything. If you say something, I'll have to do something I really, really don't wanna do..."

He pauses for a moment, pulling you onto his lap, your heals falling to the floor with the swift movement. With his hands holding you into place, you stare at him wide-eyed, your breathing uneven. The desire you'd felt tugging at you earlier was worse now that he was so close to you. There was a strange spark between you too and you felt it in your bones. Some strange connection that you'd never felt with anyone else. 

"... I've been thinking of hiring a lounge singer for when people come here to party. You work for me and I keep a close eye on you. After you prove your loyalty you can go."

It sounded simple enough, but you weren't sure you trusted Colby. How could he be so sure you wouldn't tell anyone, even after he let you go? 

"How do you know I won't go and say something after you decide I've proved my loyalty?"

You're unsure of why you ask the question, but you can't stop yourself from asking it. He smiles, with a look of cruel intent just beneath the surface of his handsome face. The hands that are holding you in place, move up slightly, finding either side of your exposed thighs. 

"I'll fuck the loyalty into you. When I'm through with you, you won't want to think about betraying me."

You swallow hard at his words, your lips parting slightly as you stare at the man before. No one had ever spoken to you that way, but you liked it. The way he spoke to you with such an assured tone. Like he knew what he could do to you and knew that you'd enjoy every second of it. He sees the spark his words stirred in you, the faint flicker of something in your eyes that hadn't been there before. 

And he likes it. 

“You sound confident in your skills if you think a single fuck is going to make me not betray you.” 

The words fall from your lips before you have a chance to stop yourself. You can tell that what you’ve said has intrigued him by the way he stares back at you, his jaw locked. His face is so close that his lips almost touch yours. You feel his hands move to the inside of your thighs, slowly spreading you open before him, your body balancing in his lap still. Your breathing hitches when you feel his fingers slowly graze over your thighs, the cold metal of his rings causing a chill to move up your spine. 

“Who said it was going to be a single fuck?”

He starts, his hands nearing your dripping sex. Your aching core wants nothing more than for him to touch you. You felt pathetic feeling so needy for the man you’d only just met, but it had been so fucking long since someone has touched you. He makes sure his eyes are locked with yours as he finds your lacy underwear, his fingers brushing the fabric to the side. Slowly, he sinks two fingers into you, curling them as he pumps them in and out of you. His lips part when he sees the look of pleasure overtake your face. His jawline is more defined as he pumps into you again and again. 

“I’m going to fuck you as many times as I need to to get the message across.”

He growls the words, curling his fingers once more. You look at him, your face softening as he slowly starts to draw your body closer to the edge. You feel your walls tightening around his fingers, you feel your nerves building in the pit of your stomach. He feels your walls tightening around him too and you can tell because he chuckles darkly in your ear, his lips so close it almost makes you dizzy. You feel him gently bite down on your earlobe, gently pulling.  A gasp escapes you when he does this causing him to chuckle once more.

“Aww, you sound so pretty with my fingers fucking you.”

He groans, fingers curling once again, earning a moan that you can’t contain. You dare to pull back to look at him, almost angry that he looks so sure of himself. That he was right about how your body would react to him. He looks at you expectedly, almost daring you to say something. Anything to make him push you over the edge, but you don’t. Instead, you move your lips to his, your hands finding his dark brown locks. He stills the pumping of his fingers for a moment, shocked that you’d made the first move to kiss him, but after a second he’s right back at it. He pushes his fingers deeper into you, adding a third finger as your tongue finds his. 

The addition of the third finger almost makes you feral, another moan brushing past your lips. 

“Cum on my fingers. I wanna lick them clean.”

His tone is commanding and your body is utterly at his mercy as he returns his lips to yours. He groans as his fingers thrust inside of you one final time and you allow your body come undone. Your lips slowly pull away from one another as you focus on your breathing. With a sick look of satisfaction, he pulls his fingers out of you, smirking at his cum slicked fingers. He keeps his blue eyes locked with yours as he licks himself clean, something that makes you feel wet all over again. After he licks your fluids from his fingers an awkward silence falls over the both of you. But only for a moment before he picked you up, his lips finding yours once more. You wrap your hands around his waist as he carries you from the couch you’d been on towards his bed. You hadn’t noticed the bed earlier, but you’d been too scared to properly take in your surroundings. Not when you’d been unmasked and threatened in the moments leading to this. He lays you down on the bed, his lips moving from yours to your neck. Underneath him, you felt your body arching into his. In desperate need for his body to be as close to yours as possible. He grinds against you when he feels how needy you are beneath him. 

“Fuck.” 

You moan as he gently starts to suck on your collarbone. A sound that seems to echo off of the walls, his cock hard through his leather pants as he grinds against you once again, firmer this time. As if he’s trying to make you moan once again. 

“You like that baby?”

He asks you, lifting his head up from where he’s marked you on your collarbone. You feel your breath catch as you dare to look at him, the feeling of desire pulsating all over you. The truth was, you loved it. You loved the way he touched you and you wanted more. 

So much more. 

You can’t find the words to tell him how much you loved the way he touched you. You couldn’t try even if you wanted to. He’d not even properly fucked you yet. What were you doing to do when he did? You breathe, winded from everything that led you into this stranger’s bed. 

“Yes, I like it. I like all of it.”

Your response earns a look of amusement from Colby. Clearly impressed by how needy he’s made you without even trying. He pulls back, lifting his body from yours as he stands at the foot of the bed. You feel his eyes on you. 

“Strip and get down on all fours.” 

For a moment you’re frozen in place before you realize he’s being serious. Slowly you sit up in the bed, reaching to pull your dress over your head. He doesn’t stop looking at you as you take off all of your clothes. Watching you closely with each piece of fabric from your body. Not making a move until you are completely naked before him. It's only once you’re completely bare before him that you feel the weight of any insecurities you had bubbling beneath the surface. You can’t face his handsome face so you turn away, getting on all fours like he’d told you to. From behind you, with your eyes fixed on the mirror behind the bedframe. The mirror shows your reflection as Colby undresses from behind you. His shirt falls to the floor carelessly, his eyes finding yours in the mirror as he takes his pants off, sliding his underwear down with them. In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of his hardened cock, the size of him bigger than you’d ever had before. You watch on helplessly as he grips your hips and pulls you towards the edge of the bed. He takes his hands and rubs circles on your ass cheeks. In the mirror you see him lick his lips when he sees the slick of your needy sex. 

“I’m going to fuck you y/n.” 

He growls, aligning his cock with your sex. He keeps his eyes on yours as he slides in, pushing past your folds with ease, fitting inside of you like he was made for you. Feeling how full you are with him inside of you, you moan, eager for him to move. Seeming to sense what you’re thinking he starts to move, his hands holding you in place as he starts to fuck you from behind. He is relentless as he pounds into you, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room. He groans when he feels how tight you are, enjoying the sensation of sliding in and out of you, his cock buried as deep as you can take him. You feel his hands as he reaches around you, to grab your beasts as he continues his relentless pounding. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel your walls start to tighten around his cock. You didn’t want this to be over, but you also didn’t know how long you could keep up this pace. He roughly grasps your breasts, his fingertips toying with your nipples. Earning another mewl from your parted lips. 

“I’m going to cum inside of you y/n. And I want you to cum all over my cock.”

A faint ‘hmm’ of confirmation passes your lips as he quickens his pace. Each thrust sloppier and sloppier until you feel him cum inside of you. His cock shoots his seed deep inside of you. The feeling of him cuming is what pushes you over the edge, your body following his moments after he’s finished. You gasp as he holds you in place, his cock deep inside of you until he’s finished. He grabs your hips again, making sure to catch your attention in the mirror as he pulls out. His breathing is as ragged as yours but you’re the only one left weak after he pulls out. Your limbs are shaky as you lay down on the bed, unable to stay on all fours. 

“So how about it y/n. Do we have a deal? You work for me and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut? You do that and I don’t have to do anything to you that I don’t want to.”

You peer up at him in the mirror, exhaustion from the day suddenly washing over you. With heavy eyes you nod in agreement, deciding it was better to do what you were told rather than fight it. You slowly close your eyes as you feel a blanket fall over your body, mumbling a faint, 

“Deal.”

Before your entire world goes black and you lose consciousness,

** I don't know if I'll do more, this was just an idea that popped into my head. Let me know if you'd like to see more.

[thefallennightmare]

Noah Sebastian

One Night: One night. That's what Noah and Reader agreed to. No questions, no second thoughts, and no regrets. But will one night be enough to fill the hunger they both craved?[COMPLETE]

Miracle: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.[COMPLETE]

Just Pretend- “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.”

A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.[IN PROGRESS]

Mercy[FALLEN ANGEL AU]-"Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her. Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.[IN PROGRESS]

The Coyotes Cry-[MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian] Centered on the story of a young bride whose fairy-tale vision of the Concrete Jungle is shattered when her father, part of the Irish Crime Family; McManus strikes a marital peace deal with the mafia head of OMNS, Noah Sebastian. Scarlett is faced with rage and conflict, as she is forced to work alongside her new husband in his tattoo shop that fronts for his mafia dealings. Devastating events leave Scarlett with the realization that there is more to Noah than meets the eye. "I would willingly, lay down my life for you if I had to." The power of love is thicker than blood.[IN PROGRESS]

Masked[Stalker!Noah Sebastian] Readers' sex life had been anything but exciting for years. Curiosity peeks when she stumbles upon a website where people sign up to meet strangers for a wild night of sex based on similar kinks. She meets a masked man that opens up her eyes to a world of different sexual kinks and when the night is over, she's ready to move on. The masked man, however, is not. One imprint of her on his skin is enough to make him obsessed. He'll do whatever he can to make sure she is his; whether she agrees or not.[IN PROGRESS]

Let Me Be Yours- Reader was in an abusive relationship, and she ended up pushing away the one guy who never did her wrong. Noah refused to let her feel as if she wasn't worthy of love; especially when he had so much to give her.[ONE SHOT]

Bad Decisions- Noah realizes a little too late that he has a breeding kink.[DRABBLE]

Comfort- Reader suffers from really bad period cramps and Noah takes care of her the only way he knows how.[DRABBLE]

PAGE ONE

PAGE TWO

What It Cost- The darkness was all Reader ever knew and now that it was following her, closing in to devour her, she needed to chance to breathe. With one destination in mind, she set out only to stop when she noticed an attractive stranger on the side of the road; his own darkness making her give him a ride to where he needed to go. Both of them were desperate for something else but neither of them could change and it nearly cost them everything.

Caged In: Noah feels himself falling deeper into the darkness and only one person can pull him out.

Just For Tonight: Nicholas had been teasing you all night so to make up for it, he gives you something you secretly always wanted; just for tonight. And that something is Noah. PART ONE | PART TWO

Braids-Reader braiding Noah's hair during a movie marathon.

Eternally Grateful[Miracle Universe]- Reader refused to take the laptop Noah bought for her after she specifically asked him to stop spending his money on her. That was until he wore her down with his tongue.

Sparing Parter: You need a new sparring partner and Noah is the only one available. PART TWO

[dayeongi]

Four years and a day ago, my sister picked me up so we could go to the hospital for news about my father.

I didn't know he was interned. I didn't even know he was that sick. Last thing I heard from his own mouth was that he was recovering from an ear infection and was feeling better.

I'd moved out a few months ago after he tried to beat me up in March because I didnt shower exactly at the time he asked, and after a lifetime of neglect and 18 years of other types of abuse from him and my stepmother. I had tentatively invited him for lunch the Sunday that had just passed.

Yet, I went. And I waited outside for news. At 8 pm the doctor came out to tell us he was refusing intubation but was hanging on.

At midnight, we went back home to sleep.

Next morning, we headed to the hospital at 6 to wait outside again for news. And we waited. The doctor came out. He said we needed to bring them supplies. I hated my father, but I raced down the concrete stairs of the hospital to pick up the supplies from my aunt. She held them out the window of her car, and I snatched them like a purse thief.

By 8:27 am that morning, July 11, 2020,.my father had died.

I had experienced death before. An uncle, family friend, my paternal grandparents, one after another, my own mother. I was familiar with decay, sadness, awkwardness, sunny funerals, the silence of the cemetery around you as the sky collapses on itself, and the world that keeps on moving. Turning, even if you can't stay still.

But somehow it never occurred to me that my father would die that soon, or so young, still in his mid sixties.

I had prepared for every eventuality. How to explain to him I don't want my future children to be much in touch. How I don't want his wife to know them at all. Thinking of moving far away, where he cannot hurt me.

My sister had to repeat this information twice. That he had died, I mean.

She had to confirm that I understood. She cried, and held me, and said "now its just us two, alone." I held her. What was there to accept? He had died. Whether I accepted it or not. I didn't cry much, just a few tears, so she wouldn't get too worried.

They didn't let us see his body, even from afar. The military wanted us a block away. People who lived in front of the hospital opened their homes to us so we could look through the window. They held my sister and I, even though for all they knew, we were dangerous.

It wasn't until his wake, where only us immediate family were allowed to attend, that I finally realized; something is wrong.

My father wouldn't have wanted a funeral like this. He was a devout catholic, for better or for worse (usually for worse). He didn't want to be cremated. He would have wanted a mariachi band, and have a procession with us walkimg after the hearse. He would have wanted the songs that were sung for my grandparents' funerals to be sung for him.

I cried a lot then. Almost to the point of not breathing. To the point of throwing up. To the point where words stopped making sense anymore. I didn't want to get off the car. Then, the opportunity for him to repent, the opportunity for me to have a father would be truly gone forever.

At the time, I didn't know I still relished that hope. I thought it had died, lile a fire put out in a panic, slap after slap. But it smoldered even without my knowledge.

It went out in a blaze of grief, when I held the wooden box that was his urn and I realized, I was holding everything my father had ever been, and everything he could have been, and everything he'd never be, because he'd never be ever again.

There are songs I can't sing now.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Life in the Hands of the Enemy -- Villain reluctantly saves Hero's Life part 15

Warnings: captivity whump, cruel Villain whumper, forced living weapon, Hero whumpee

Excitement danced in his eyes, and Amber could tell he was eager to play around with her powers some more.

"...All right," he eventually sighed, caving. "I'll let that be enough for today. Follow me back to your room, and I'll get you some food once you're properly contained."

Amber snorted in disgust. The audacity to call her prison cell a 'room'.... unbelievable.

Zack cut her a sharp look and she quickly glanced away submissively, getting the hint. She needed to be more careful with how she acted.

Even if she hated Zack with every fiber of her being, at least he was good to his word. He decided to leave Amber with only one wrist cuffed and chained, allowing her at least some range of motion. And he brought her a much larger meal this time, and Amber took her time indulging in the perfectly-cooked steak and veggies. He was decent at cooking, she had to admit.

But Zack returned before she was finished, making her stiffen apprehensively mid-bite. "A small reward for your cooperation today," he announced, and tossed something on the ground next to her before briskly leaving.

Amber waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore before glancing down in confusion -- that turned into surprise. It was... a cookie? She peered closer, wondering if her eyes were tricking her, but yup. Wrapped in plastic, was a single, full chocolate chip cookie. All for her.

Once I know you won't act up, you can earn certain amenities, Zack's words echoed in her mind. She'd thought he was lying at the time, but now... maybe cooperating wouldn't be as bad as she expected. He was good to his word, if nothing else. She was slowly beginning to realize that more and more.

It was strange, really, how cold and cruel Zack could be, yet still treat her with basic kindness and dignity… if she earned it.

Amber hungrily devoured the rest of the meal and only hesitated for a heartbeat before digging into the moist cookie. It could be drugged, but she couldn't care less because it was the best thing she'd ever tasted in this awful place.

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

That night she slept better than the nights before. She woke up refreshed and ready for whatever challenge Zack would force her to overcome next. She waited for the villain to bring breakfast, but she must have woken up earlier than she thought, because she counted roughly half an hour that passed with no sign of him. But it was hard to tell for sure how much time truly passed with no clock in her cage.

Amber stood up and did some stretches to wake up her muscles, which were still a tad sore from sleeping on the hard concrete. Then she took to restless pacing, as far as the chain on her wrist cuff would allow, which was only a few meters. It was better than nothing, and she made the most of it. The silence was unbearable, aside from her own footsteps, and she thought she might go crazy when Zack finally showed up.

"About time," Amber grouched.

Zack smiled charismatically, carrying a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Dang. He really put effort into it. Amber tried not to look grateful or relieved when he set it on the floor for her and backed up to leave.

"I'll leave you to eat in peace, but once you're finished, I have something new for you today," he announced chipperly. She'd never seen him in such a good mood before. Was this all because of how well she'd done yesterday?

Amber decided not to question the miracle, and quickly wolfed down the breakfast. Zack returned the instant she was done, an uncharacteristic eagerness in his face that put her on edge. He wasted no time taking the cuff off and leading her out, and Amber's stomach sank with dread when she realized they were heading toward the medical area where he'd pulled bits of shrapnel from her body previously. Her anxiety worsened with every step, and it was a conscious effort to force herself to follow Zack all the way in.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

[bonny-kookoo]

I NEEED a part two to that snowball angst

Does Jungkook come back and find her missing?

Do Namjoon and Yoongi come back and find her missing?

Do they go and look for her?

Does she get hurt?

I NEED ANSWERS BONNY!

Something buzzes on your wrist, catching you off guard on the small spot you sit on near the colorfully lightened pond.

[Tag Alert] blinks on the small display of the watch-like hybrid safety device you remember getting when you were given into the care of the company and simultaneously the boys. You know what it means- someone's trying to locate you right now. But who? And why?

Does it matter?

You swing your legs back and forth on the bench, heels hitting the concrete slab beneath every now and then while you drink your sugary sweet drink in your hand. Hoseok would always get that exact one every time he'd go see a doctor for anything needing to be done as a treat of sorts- but you're a big dog now. You can get these all you want now.

You can make up your own treats.

You can hear the soles of someone's shoes scratch over something, before a person drops down the wall behind you, almost slipping a little. "There you are!" Jungkook's familiar voice asks, the only thing apart from his sense that you could identify him by since he's covered by facemask and dark bucket hat. "What're you doing all on your own, hm? Did something happen?" He worries a little, squatting down in front of you with his hands on your knees to look up at your face.

You shake your head. "No." You shrug. "Just wanted to go out. S' all." You say, and he lowers his brows into a frown, visibly not convinced. "How was your date?..was she nice?" You ask, and he seems confused now.

"What date- you mean my physical exam? Same as always, just a bit taller than last year. And yeah, the nurse was nice?" He wonders, until he seems to realize. "Wait- you thought I went on an actual date?" He asks, and you look down into the cup in your hands.

"Doesn't concern me anyway.." you mumble. "You deserve a nice girlfriend and all that." You say, but he shakes his head.

"But I've got you?" He wonders, palms running over your thighs in an attempt to reassure. "I don't need anyone else." The idol tries to clarify.

"I'm on my own." You tell him. "I finished gathering all documents.. n stuff for independent living. I'm pretty sure I'll get it approved." You say, trying to seem excited about it.

"If you.. truly want that, I won't say no. I've got no right to decide that for you." Jungkook offers in a tone that's surprisingly serious. "But don't do it because you think that's needed so we can be happy. I know I'm happiest when you're with me." He explains, and you lower your head.

"I.. you know, maybe, but when you have a girlfriend one day-" you argue, and he chuckles.

"But why a girlfriend?" He wonders.

"Boyfriend, who cares what you wanna go for-" you sigh, and he still smiles with his eyes.

"I wanna go for you." He shrugs softly. "I wanna go out with you. Have you as my girlfriend. I thought I made that pretty obvious?" He smiles, leaning his head to the side.

"I- but I'm a-" you start, though he won't let you finish properly.

"-a very sweet and funny and caring and pretty and lovable little being that I want to have around me all the time." He talks over you. "I don't care about anything but you. Being with you. Just the idea makes me all warm inside." He says. "Do you want that too?" He asks, and you squirm. You do- but at the end you know you can't have what you want. "No, don't think of an answer that'll be what's best for me. I want that answer." He says, poking your heart. "I wanna know what that wants."

"That thing is running on nothing but daydreams and wishful thinking." You sigh. "So that thing is useless."

"Definitely not." He disagrees. "Cause mine beats just as fast as yours does right now. And I think I know why." He cheekily comments.

"Thats all the sugar." You try and avoid it, before he leans closer, pulls down his mask to place a short peck just close to the edge of your lips.

"Hm no, that's not the sugar." He laughs at your scandalized face.

"Jung-" you force yourself to hiss a but quieter. "Jungkook, what if someone sees?!" You worry, and he laughs.

"Then let me take you back home, where you belong." He offers kindly. "Where it's just us, where no one's looking, where you're safe and sound. Please, puppy- don't shut us out like that just because you're scared. Don't shut me out." He says now a bit upset, and you can see the way his eyes shimmer, all round and pleading as they watch you. "I love you."

"I love you too but-" you start, but he instead begins to visibly light up, getting up to grab your hand.

"No buts." He shakes his head, squeezing your hand as he leads you back to his place. "None of that. I love you, you love me too-" he says, swinging your hands a bit,

"-and I won't let anything ruin that for us."

[mjnight06]

First Kisses are Overrated

Chapter 1/2

Chapter 1: Testing a Friendship

“Stupid Jeff,” Shoutout complained, running in the direction she thought she’d heard the criminal last.

“I don’t know about you,” Brainstorm kept pace beside her, “but I’d rather be chasing Jeff than Drex.”

The heroin rolled her eyes, “yes, but if it weren’t for Jeff, we’d all be out hunting Drex.” Shoutout slowed to a stop, the other teen matching her. “Instead, we have to waste our energy hunting down the stupidest criminal in Swellview in this ridiculous warehouse,” she gestured at the dozens of hallways and steel roller doors spanning every direction, “while the rest of our team could be out there getting hurt.”

“They’ll be fine, Meeks,” Brainstorm patted her shoulder.

“It’s Shoutout,” she pursed her lips, brushing his hand away. “How many times have we said-”

“No real names when wearing the masks, yeah yeah,” Bose rolled his eyes with a lazy smirk.

“Come on, we should start opening doors. Even Jeff isn’t stupid enough to just hang out in the hallways.”

The pair went to work opening each shutter around them, waiting for the sensor lights to activate, doing a quick survey, and moving on to the next.

“This is gonna take forever,” Bose bemoaned, as he closed his fourth container. “There has gotta be a better way to do this.”

“If you have any brilliant ideas, I’m all ears,” Mika huffed, moving on.

“Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mika tilted her head and listened.

A rustle.

Mika held her finger to Bose’s lips, warning him to stay quiet. No need to alert the runaway, if they had found him.

Once she was sure the boy wouldn’t speak, she let him go, nodding her head towards the still open door she had thought she’d checked a few moments prior.

The two heroes in training crept into the storage container, a large, full unit. Mika had only checked this room a few minutes prior, but she supposed Jeff could have been hiding under or behind something. The sensor light was still on, which she did find admittedly odd.

The pair was less than a few feet away from the door when the roller creaked. The teens spun, catching a flash of Jeff standing in the doorway before the steel door slammed shut, trapping them.

“Hey!” Mika cried, rushing forward and making a dive to try and pull the shutter up before the stupid criminal had the chance to lock it. “Help me lift this,” she called to Bose, who had yet to move.

The pair tugged at the bottom of the shutter but struggled to fit their hands under the steel, the doors not being made to open from the inside.

What a stupid design, Mika thought. Why would something ever be made to lock from the outside?

Her eyes widened. Oh no. The lock.

She tugged harder, scraping her hands against the concrete, but to no avail. Even if she could lift it, Jeff would have definitely secured the padlock by now. They were stuck.

“Woah, are your hands okay, Shoutout?” Bose asked, lightly touching one of Mika’s hands to inspect the damage she’d done. At least he'd had the foresight to use her hero name. Who knew if Jeff was still standing on the other side, listening, or not?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, not meeting his eyes, a little embarrassed about her now bleeding hands. She supposed she went a little overboard.

Mika rose from the floor and faced the door front on. “Stand back,” she warned the other hero.

Once Bose backed up safely behind her, Shoutout opened her mouth and screamed. Only to watch the concentrated soundwaves absorb harmlessly into the steel.

“Shit,” she cursed. A second attempt headed the same result. What kind of storage unit used pure steel for their doors? She’d been confident they would be mixed with all sorts of metals that she would be able to crumble, but pure steel?

Mika sat back with a huff. Done in by stupid Jeff of all people. She couldn’t wait to tell Ray and deal with all the unsufferable gloating.

“Should we call Captain Man?” Bose voiced her thoughts.

“I guess there’s no point delaying the inevitable mockery.” He tilted his head “Sure, honey. Give him a call.”

Brainstorm fished his phone out of his blue-tipped, pant pockets. “Oh, oh.”

“Oh, oh? What oh?” Shoutout leaned over to look at the device. “Oh, oh,” she repeated, seeing the problem in the form of the four grey bars with a line through them in the top corner.

Pulling out her own phone confirmed the same thing. They were in a dead zone. No service meant no rescue call.

Mika tried not to panic, as she opened her call log and tried anyway. It didn’t even ring.

“The call cannot be completed as dialled,” the automated voice spoke.

“Have you tried?” She asked the other teen.

“No luck. Try the Swellview police? SOS calls should still go through.”

Mika dialled the number, a creeping dread crawling up her throat. The SPD weren’t the best people to have to rely on in an emergency, she knew that first-hand. Even before things with her aunt got messy, with the revealed identities and betrayal, she’d never want to count on the woman or her colleagues when it really mattered. Hell, even before she had superpowers the police wouldn't be in her top 5 of whom to call when in danger.

“You’ve reached the Swellview Police Department, how can I help you?”

“Yes, hello? This is Shoutout of Dangerforce, I’m calling because-”

She was cut off by the man on the other line laughing. “Dangerforce wouldn’t be calling us, hun. God, kids these days and their ridiculous pranks,” he chuckled.

“No, wait! This is really-” dial tone. The SPD had just hung up on her.

“Did… they just hang up on you?” Bose asked, reading her eye-twitch. “Hold on, let me try.”

Mika took a deep breath, then a second, and a third. How was it possible that the very people that citizens were supposed to rely on for help were so useless and uncooperative? She knew that Captain Man and Kid Danger’s presence over the years had made them slack, but this was ridiculous.

“Hello, this is Brainstorm,” Bose spoke as soon as his call was picked up, “please don’t hang up! Shoutout and I are trapped in the storage unit on East 34th, and really need help!”

Mika couldn’t hear the other half of the conversation, but she assumed the other teen’s eyeroll didn’t mean anything good.

“I understand why you might not believe me, but I swear-” he stopped, listening. “Don’t you think if we could call Captain Man, we would be? No, no, no, wait!”

Mika faced the wall and screamed again, only partially to see if it would do any damage this time.

“What do we do now? Sit here and wait, and hope someone finds us?” Bose tucked his phone away.

Mika pursed her lips, “best case scenario, Captain Man realises something is up and comes to check on us,” she leant against the wall close to the door, sliding down into a sitting position with her knees up. “Worst case, we're here till the cleaners come through, whenever that might be.”

Mike figured it best to stay near the door and listen for footsteps, so they could at least call for help, should some random citizen be wandering around a storage facility at- she tapped her phone screen- ten at night.

“So, what do we do while we wait?” Bose joined her on the floor, spreading his legs out. “We could play questions! Get to know each other better!”

Mika rolled her eyes, “Bose, we’ve known each other for three years, I think we know each other well enough.”

“Well, I’m bored. So, unless you want me to sit here poking you,” he demonstrated, digging his finger into her side, forcing a giggle and for the heroin to squirm away, “you’ll play.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, pushing his hand away. “What’s your first question?”

“Why do I have to go first?”

“You’re the one who suggested we play!”

“Yeah, but maybe that’s because I want you to ask about me!”

Mika laughed again, rolling her eyes fondly. “Ask your questions, Brainstorm, before I decide I don’t want to play anymore.

“Okay, fine,” he put a finger to his chin, in the classic exaggerated thinking pose. “I know! If you could choose any superpower, besides your screaming obviously, what would you want?”

“Ooh, good one, hmm.” Mika had to be honest, she’d not put much thought into it as of recent. Obviously, when she was a kid, watching Kid Danger and Captain Man on the news, she always imagined what she would want, but no serious consideration had ever gone into it. And since she’d discovered her own power, she could never imagine having anything else.

“Come on, Meeks, it’s not a hard question,” Bose taunted her.

“Hey! I’m thinking, jeez!” She shoved his shoulder with a huff.

Mika had to admit, she was glad it was Bose she was stuck here with. Miles would have been freaking out (assuming he was unable to simply teleport them out), and Chapa would beat her fists to a pulp trying to break out and then sulk in silence when it didn’t work. At least Bose was trying to keep the situation light. He knew as well as she did, they couldn’t do anything to speed up their inevitable rescue.

“I think shapeshifting would be the most useful,” she finally concluded.

“Well?” Bose raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sure you’ve got a ten-page thesis on why it’s the best power. Let’s hear it. The short version at least.”

She hated how right he was about her. “Think about it, any situation you get yourself stuck-” she gestured around them, “-in, there’s something you could turn into that would fix it. Like if one of us could turn into a whale and take the roof off. Done.”

He nodded, “you know what, that makes sense.”

“Exactly. You know that saying about the jack of all trades?”

“You know I don’t but carry on.”

She laughed. “The popular saying is ‘Jack of all trades, master of none,’ implying that being kind of good at a lot of things is useless because you’re not amazing at any of them. In original English, the full saying was actually ‘Jake of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.’ Society cut the latter half off and a lot of people forgot what the saying originally stood for.”

Bose nodded slowly, “I think I get it. Like having a bit of strength, a bit of speed, a bit of swimming and all that is better than only having one power.”

“Exactly! Need to be strong, a t-rex isn’t as strong as someone like Thunderman but could still be crazily useful in the short term.”

“Okay, but that’s what you’d find most useful, not the one you want the most. Ignore the logic for a second, pretend you’re not a crime-fighter, what’s something you always wished you could do?”

“That,” she tapped him on the nose, “is a whole other question, and I believe it’s my turn.”

Bose chuckled, shaking his head before waving for her to go on.

“Where’s the place you want to visit most in the world?”

Bose hummed, thinking. “To be honest, I’m happy in Swellview. I like it here,” he held Mika’s eye for a second too long before clearing his throat. “Besides, mum and I have moved a few times, and been on vacation a bunch. Swellview is home now.”

“Awwe!” Mika had to resist singing the genuine moments theme. That was such a sweet answer and something that was just so very Bose.

“Okay, same question as before. Power you’d want more than anything else,” Bose repeated his previous ask.

“I don’t know. I feel like talking to animals would be really fun?” Mika tried not to give it too much thought, as he wanted. “I’ve always wondered what my dog would say to me if we could understand each other.”

“Probably, ‘Oh Mika, your friend Bose is so cool! He gives the best pats!’” Bose grumbled in a low voice.

Mika laughed, “why did you make her sound like that?”

“Wait, Sergeant Snuggles is a she?”

Mika broke down, clutching her stomach. Leave it to Bose to completely miss the obvious.

“Okay, okay, be quiet,” he grumbled, shoving her, but his eyes shone with amusement. “Next question, come on.”

The game continued, the pair going back and forth on whatever random topics came to mind, with (usually Mike) going off on tangents when they were passionate about a particular subject.

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do, but are too scared to try?” She didn’t know where the question came from, but now she wanted to know.

Bose always seemed so carefree, never really thinking too hard about whatever was in front of him, just rushing in headlong. He was less thick-headed than Chapa, but still far less cautious than herself or her brother, so she couldn’t help but wonder what actually scared him.

Bose blinked, clearly not expecting the deeper question. Everything asked so far had been fairly light.

“I dunno,” his eyes darted around the room.

Mika tilted her head, waving her hand in encouragement for him to continue.

“I guess, stand up to my stepdad?” He eventually muttered, picking at his shoelace.

Mika’s eyes softened. She knew what a bad relationship her friend had with the Vice-Mayor, with the older man making it clear how much he detested him. Mika still would likely never forgive him for insulting Bose to his face (well, Brainstorm’s face, but still. Bose had to hear it), back when Danger Force was hired to protect him from his own selfish schemes.

“I get that. Standing up to authority is really hard,” Mika sympathised, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Things are still weird with Aunt Didi. I just can’t look at her anymore without thinking about how she betrayed me. Us.”

Bose nodded. “Yeah. My mum came around after we saved her and the other mums, but she still hasn’t told my stepdad.”

Mika blinked. That was news to her, she had no idea her friend was still having to hide half of who he was at home. No wonder he spent so much time at her house or in the man’s nest.

“I’m sorry, that must be hard,” she rubbed his arm again.

She felt the moment his walls went back up, as he lightly shrugged her off. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Okay, next question. What’s the worst prank you’ve ever pulled.”

Mika let him get away with the abrupt change in both topic and tone. Understanding that he didn’t want to get into his daddy issues while stuck in a room with no escape. Speaking of, she tapped her phone screen. They’d already been in here for almost two hours now.

A few more rounds passed of light and breezy questions, before, “why haven’t you asked any guys at school out, yet?”

Mika started. That was the last thing she’d expected Bose of all people to be asking her about. He always seemed so put off by the talk about her romantic life. Chapa would ask questions and grill her, while Bose and Miles would roll their eyes and tune the two out.

“You mean Micah? Or Jordan? Or Tyler? Or-”

“Yeah, yeah, whoever,” he cut her off with an eyeroll. “Whichever boy of the week you’re obsessed with. You’ve never asked any of them out.”

It wasn’t a question, it was an observation, she noticed.

Mika pursed her lips, unsure of exactly how vulnerable she wanted to be here. Talking to Chapa was easy. She judged Mika sometimes sure, but when it came down to it, the other girl was just as clueless as she was. Bose, meanwhile, had been on over a thousand dates last year. He had way more experience than her in matters of the heart.

“I don’t know,” she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “It just always doesn’t feel right. I don’t have much… experience with this stuff.”

Bose was quiet for a minute, just observing her. “Have you ever been on a date before?”

Mika buried her head in her knees and groaned. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

“I’m not making fun of you, I swear!” She heard him shift, likely raising his hands in defence.

“I’m just not comfortable talking to guys like that.”

Bose barely heard the muffled words past her knees, as she kept her face buried. “You talk to me all the time, what’s different?”

Mika thought about it. Bose was always different. She knew he’d never see her in a romantic light, so she wasn’t worried about looking cool or impressing him. He’d seen her in some of her most embarrassing and uncool moments.

“It just is. I don’t have to impress you.”

“Meeks, you’re awesome. You’d impress anyone just by being you.”

Mika turned her head to the side. He was already looking at her. His eyes were intense, like he truly believed what he was saying, and was trying to convince her of her own worth.

“I just feel like-” she stopped, trying to find the words to articulate what she wanted to say. “There’s just so much pressure about first romances, the first date, the perfect first kiss. Like the movies build it up to this huge thing. I wish I could just skip all that, completely.”

Bose bobbled his head in agreement. “I get what you mean. By the pressure and all that. You just gotta get out of your own head and go for it.”

“Who was your first kiss?” Mika asked before she could stop herself.

She knew that the one thousand dates didn’t wind up going anywhere, what with it being so many short interactions, with his alter-ego no-less, but it was clear that Bose had already had his first real relationship. Whether it was before she met him, or he just didn’t talk about it, she didn’t know.

“Vivian Helen, in the seventh grade,” he rattled off immediately.

So, two years ago, Mika did the math in her head. The early days of Danger Force.

She couldn’t imagine trying to juggle a relationship on top of getting superpowers and joining a team of people he barely knew. Absently, she wondered if that was why they broke up, assuming they ever officially dated.

“Was it serious?” She couldn’t help but want to know. It was kind of nice to have someone else to talk about all this stuff to.

“I mean, as serious as it can be when you’re twelve,” he laughed, pushing his hair back, a nervous habit. “I don’t think either of us ever thought we’d get married or anything. I guess that took a lot of the pressure off.”

Mika supposed that made sense. She just didn’t understand how someone could see someone they found attractive and just waltz up to them, with no prepping and no practice.

“If you want,” she looked back at Bose as he spoke, “we could… I mean I could help you… After all, we’ve already pretended…” He trailed off over and over, clearly struggling with the words.

Mika tilted her head to the side, giving him a quizzical look. Then she got it. Her eyes widened; her back snapping taught. Was he offering what she thought he was offering?

“Bose, what are you saying?” She must have been misreading things. Surely. There was no way he was actually saying-

“We could kiss.”

That.

“For like practice or something!” He rushed out, shifting uncomfortably, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. “You know, no pressure, no commitment...” he trailed off. “Never mind, it was stupid. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey, woah, it’s okay!” She tried to reassure him. “That wasn’t a no. I guess I’m just… thinking.” She also couldn’t bear if this made things awkward between them.

As it was, she felt bad about the whole pretend kissing thing to protect their identity (not that it worked). Her mum still wouldn’t let Mika close the door when Bose came over to watch Dog Bachelor every Sunday, even after she’d explained the lie to her.

She'd always make it so awkward with her glares and wild gestures, bursting into the room at random intervals, as if trying to “catch” them doing supposed they weren't supposed to be doing. Ha. As if that'd ever happen.

“What if it makes things weird between us?” She eventually voiced her biggest concern. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let this happen, and it ruined their bond.

Her friendship with Bose had always been different, deeper, than with the other members of their team. Miles was her brother, but they were just so different. And Chapa was her confidant, but it still wasn't the same. Bose was her support system. She went to him for almost everything. She relied on him, told him her secrets. He was always there. She couldn't lose that. Not over something as silly as a kiss.

Bose shrugged, “it’s not like we’re going anywhere. Things can’t possibly get weird if we’re stuck together.”

Mika’s eyes darted around the room, unsure of where to look. Eye contact felt weird. “You mean like here? Right now?”

She wasn’t sure how much she agreed with his sentiment. Wouldn’t it just mean trapping them in the awkwardness if it did get weird? Taking away any chance at escape? Although, she supposed they wouldn't be able to run away, and would have to talk about it, if it did get weird.

Mika felt trapped. Part of her wanted to shrug it off, say something witty and pretend the conversation had never happened, but she had a feeling that would leave them in just as awkward of a spot- if not more so- than if they went through with it.

“Okay.”

Bose’s head shot up, “okay?”

“Okay. Let's do it,” she took a breath. “Let's kiss.”

“Okay, cool.”

For both of their sakes, she was going to pretend she didn't hear his voice crack.

Neither teen moved, clearly unsure of how to proceed, for a few thick moments. Eventually, Bose swallowed, shuffling to face her fully.

“We don't have to do this, you know?” His eyes darted between hers and the floor, as he struggled to hold eye contact.

“I want to,” her response was quick. Too quick. Mika felt her face heat up. “I mean, I want to get it over with,” she amended, which sounded bad for a different reason. “Not that this is like a chore, just in the sense that-”

Bose let out a breathy laugh, “it's cool, Meeks. I get it.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Mika turned her shoulders and leant forward. “Well?”

“Well?”

She rolled her eyes, “you're the experienced one here. Isn't that the whole point of this?”

“Oh. Right,” Bose coughed.

“Well?”

“Right,” Bose shifted forward further.

Mika spoke a big game, trying to hide how nervous she really was, especially now that she could feel his breath on her face.

Bose’s eyes darted between hers and her lips, which made her even more nervous as he leant forward. Only a few more inches.

Mika let herself get caught up in the moment. It was finally happening. Her first real kiss… and it was with Bose of all people.

She didn't want to admit how that seemed to make the moment even more special. She'd unpack that later. Or never. Never worked too.

He was taking too long, she decided.

Just as she leant in the last few centimetres, the wall next to them produced an odd noise, before crumbling.

The two startled teens leapt away from both each other and the now gaping hole in the wall they'd just been leaning against. And faced their boss.

“There you kids are! How long does it take to track down Jeff?” The adult man huffed, looking around the room. “Where is he anyway?”

Mike blinked, trying to clear her head. “Uh, he’s not here,” she admittedly lamely. “He kind of got away.”

“WHAT?”

“It's not our fault!” She jumped on the defence immediately, happy to take the distraction from what almost just happened. And sadly, didn't happen. “He locked us in when we came to investigate!” She stubbornly refused to look at her still-silent teammate.

“Locked you in? What do you mean he locked you in? How do you let the stupidest criminal in Swellview lock you anywhere?”

Mika's face burned. What a horrible end to a horrible night.

Well, a mostly horrible night.

She finally peaked at Bose from the corner of her eye.

He was already looking at her.

“ANYWAY,” she burst, making both guys jump, “where’s the rest of the team? How did fighting Drex go?”

Captain Man rolled his eyes, reading right through the misdirect, but letting her get away with it. “We'll debrief on both missions,” he paused to glare at the two teens, “tomorrow morning. AWOL and Volt are both in bed. Like you kids should be. It's after three in the morning, I've been looking for you guys for hours.”

Mika blinked. Three am? That wasn't possible. She'd just checked the time like twenty minutes ago, and it had only been midnight. She pulled out her phone, the light blinking at her. 3:16am. they'd spent over 5 hours locked in this room together.

“How did you find us?” She jumped when Bose finally spoke, looking away when he raised an eyebrow at her jumpiness.

“Don't worry about that,” Captain Man brushed it off.

Mika looked past him, at the fresh hole in the wall. And the next one. And the next one. Instead of opening doors and searching, their boss had apparently decided it was a better idea to break a hole into every room in the corridor. And who knew how many corridors he’d gone through before he got to theirs? Oh, god. They were going to owe the mayor’s office so many apology letters… which she would almost definitely have to write.

“Let’s just get you two back home.”

The teens didn't say anything or look at each other for the whole trip.

If Captain Man noticed, past his humming of the Drake and Josh theme song, he didn't comment.

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: PTAcule free space. Collective date night? Unusual combinations of battle couples? Formal vote to refuse Icicle’s application even though he promises he won’t be evil and/or creepy this time? (Everybody Lives AU encouraged)

"Remember," Crusher said, the joking tone suddenly gone from his voice, "You promised, no judging."

"None," Barb said, just as seriously, adjusting the gloves on her hands awkwardly. They still felt too tight. Paula's fingers were longer than her own, but the gloves had been a gift, weeks ago. Like the crossbow, Barb had left them in the box. She'd never thought she'd need them.  

That was how all of the Crock's gifts were. She was glad to have them now. 

"Leave them alone," Paula said. "You won't get used to them if you don't let them be. We have bigger things to worry about right now."

"I know." Barb took a breath. "I...you're sure this is the right place?"

The tall, plate-glass windowed office building towered above them, twinkling with ambient light from the streetlamps, taillights, and other city pollution. Funny, all those years of living in southern California suburbs, and under a dozen months in small-town Nebraska had broken the part of her mind that accepted Skyscrapers as normal. In Blue Valley, only the hospital and the clocktower  stood higher than four stories. Twenty was unthinkable.  

"You were expecting a warehouse?" Crusher asked. "Maybe dilapidated, a couple rusting shipping crates outside?"

"Something like that," Barb said, still stunned. "This is where...?"

"This is where the last signal from baby Midnight's goggles came from. Either they're here, or someone in here knows where they are. Ready for your first heist?" Paula  put a hand, haltingly comforting, on her shoulder. "Let's go get our Pat and the kids," Crusher whooped, shrill, and slammed his bat hard through a window. It shattered. Suddenly all Barb could see was the glass on the pitstop floor, what was left of Stripe...

"Barb, we need to move," Paula said, tugging her along. "Stay close. We'll take care of everything."

Security must have been anticipating something. a line of them were waiting in the hall. Crusher reached for an explosive, sending it sliding down the polished linoleum with a perfect kick.   The blast was contained, but Barb still felt the heat of it on her face. She expected a surge of guilt, watching people die. 

They'd taken her kids. They'd left Mike's bike mangled on the side of the road. She felt, exactly as promised, no judgement towards Crusher, and no pity. 

Paula put the tip of her crossbow bolt below the eye of a survivor.

"Where did your boss put Stripesy and the children?" she asked conversationally.  

"I--"

"Think carefully. If you tell us, maybe I'll let Stripesy decide if you live. He's the kind that might show mercy.  We aren't. "

"He's on the 15th floor.  the kids are in the basement. I don't have access--"

"Who does?" Barb asked, shouldering past Crusher, who let her. He was already using the end of his bat to poke and corpses for security passes.

"Soray."

"Oh, you're going to be Sorry," Paula said, pressing the sharp point close enough it drew blood.

"Wait, no, please, Franklin Soray, he--right there." he gave a feeble twitch. Crusher retrieved the badge. Paula looked at Barb. 

"Your call," she said, quiet.

"Leave him," Barb said. She told herself it wasn't about mercy. It was about priorities. 

They split up. Paula squeezed both they hands, and then vanished up the elevator shaft Crusher pried open for them.  Barb held the crossbow she'd been given tightly. She'd never ventured into the tunnels below Blue Valley, but somehow, she imagined they'd be a lot like the twisting maze of concrete Crusher slammed through like a jaguar through forest undergrowth. 

"After, we're going to work on Cardio," he said with a grin unmarred by the splatter of blood on his face when he'd broken at least a guard's nose. Barb hadn't looked at the man long enough to judge if the angle of his neck was natural or not, and again told her heart not to care.  

"Sure," she panted. "Absolutely. Where...?"

Another door, this one labeled a stomach clenching "Special Collections/ New Acquisitions" opened under the badge Crusher held. Another corridor of doors stretched out.

Crusher pointed to a scuff on the frame of one door. "Artie left that. C'mon."

Alarms started to blare, but Crusher wasted no time. "Hey ducklings! Gonna have these open real quick. everyone away from the doors, kay?"

"Dad!" Artemis yelped from behind her door. A muffled "Mr Crock?" sounded like Beth from the one behind it. 

"Yup," he turned to Barb, offering her the detonator to the explosives she hadn't even seen him rig. "Wanna do the honors?" She very much did. 

17 stories up, Paula slunk through the halls, careful of the after-hours lighting. It provided such nice shadows. Two more near silent interrogations led her to a very locked office door, one with the blinds hastily installed on the outsides of the windows. Amateur move, really. Anyone with half a brain would know something was different here, and anyone who knew to be looking for a hostage would find them easily enough. 

She opened the door.

"I need more time," Pat's voice croaked from where he was hunched over a desk. Her eyes caught, in the single bulb of lamplight, the sight of bruises, of a chain around his ankle. "It's not done, please--."

"Halftime," she said easily, dropping to the floor and trading lockpicks for her crossbow. "Easy, Patrick."

"Paula?" he said, like it was a question.

"Mm," she agreed. "Barb and Crusher are getting the children. They should be getting them--" The building swayed slightly. Distantly, an alarm sounded. "Now." she looked at the papers he'd been working on Blueprints for something. "We taking these or trashing them?"

"Trashing," Pat said hoarsely. Paula handed him a harness pulled from her backpack, and set to work filling the metal trash can that stood in the office with papers and a lit match.

"We're taking the long way down. Hope you're better with heights these days." 

The window took a few blows to break, but crashed to the ground far below. Paula lifted her crossbow from the floor, setting a bolt with a long cable attached and firing. the other end secured, she smiled. Smoke was filling the hall, which would prevent any other security from reaching them in anything resembling enough time for recapture.

"Shall we?" she clipped into the zipline. Pat followed. Far below, the light of the Cosmic staff lit the figures of the rest of the family, booking it for the minivan obtained for the rescue.

[piracytheorist]

What Follows (1/1)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Mentions of torture, blood, maiming, and attempted suicide.

Summary: Twilight is exposed and captured. Among the tortures, he loses himself, not knowing which part of him to grasp onto.

AO3

~

A/N: This is my first fanfic for this fandom. It's quite graphic and angsty, so make sure you are okay with the warnings mentioned. Though I was accidentally spoiled for something from the manga that I put in this fic, I am not currently reading it, so I'd appreciate it if you don't add any manga spoilers in the tags/replies/comments.

~

Agent Twilight had gone by many names.

So many names indeed, that he could no longer say he even had a "real" name.

And before, he was okay with that. Peace was more important than one name.

He couldn't say anything when he found out about Anya. The only thought on his mind was that all along she had been helping him and he had no idea. He didn't doubt her for a second - it was himself whom he doubted. How could he call himself a spy, a father, and not notice that something was going on with her?

He'd never forget how his body sagged when he found out about Yor too - when he found out that she also knew about Anya, and Anya about her.

Within the shock, the doubt in his mind, and the worry of how things would develop, he barely had the strength to think.

In the three days that followed, he was plagued by the impulse to leave everything behind; his mission, his spy life, and his life with the Forger family altogether.

What would he be then?

He didn't get the time to make a decision - the secret police did for him.

Hearing the word "Twilight" from the chief as his subordinates were cuffing him, he knew that name was over for him too.

Interrogations followed. Offers that held no meaning to a man with nothing to lose. Attempts at negotiations. Threats.

And when they finally accepted that he'd never speak, they started making an example out of him.

He had expected the tortures, of course. Canes, lashes, chains, branding irons. Electric shocks and near drownings and entire days of starving him. What he hadn't expected was for them to take pictures at the end of every session, to let people know what they did to traitors.

But then the photos proved to not suffice. They decided to send him back to WISE… piece by piece.

First they took his right index finger. He could still shoot a gun with other fingers or his left hand, but the meaning behind the gesture was clear. As it was when they took his left ring finger, even though he'd never worn a wedding ring on it during his time as Loid Forger.

Lying in his dark concrete cell, he occupied his mind with any kind of thought that would take his mind off of wondering what other part of him they'd take. They waited for a few days, as if to tease him, to leave him simmering in his thoughts of terror, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When they grabbed him by the hair and pushed him face up on a table, he first thought they'd simply carve another slash across his face. But when he saw the round tool in his tormentor's hand, he started thrashing so hard it took five men to hold his body down and three more to hold his head steady.

Considering how many times he'd come so close to losing his eye, he hadn't expected to lose his grip on reality when it was finally gone.

They left him alone; his entire head hurt so bad that even keeping it up was a struggle. He raised a trembling hand, as if it could ease the pain somehow. It rested on his cheek, and of all things, it was the dried blood on his growing beard that triggered the hysteria. With almost animalistic growls leaving his mouth, he started poking his wounds open, hoping that the infection that would follow would kill him.

Instead, what followed was crude but effective medical care, a straitjacket, and a padded cell.

He didn't want to imagine what else they'd cut off of him, but the pain in his skull was too intense to forget what they'd done to him, even for one second. His panic overwhelmed him, nightmares plagued him and he found himself glad to wake up in the same room, in one piece - or as much of it as he was before the dream.

He hadn't seen the sky since his capture, and after the first days of starvation his internal clock had lost count.

He didn't know how long the padded cell lasted, but once he'd stopped thrashing for most of the entire day, they strapped him down on a bed, and when his resolve finally left him, they took him back to the concrete cell.

It couldn't have been more than a couple months, and he was already broken.

So much for Westalis' best spy. Twilight was now truly gone, and what was left was a husk of a man without so much as having a name to call himself.

He'd gone by many names. So many that the one he was raised with didn't matter to him anymore. None of his aliases had been important to him; he'd simply trained himself to turn his head every time he'd hear his occasionally current name. He never grew used to any of them.

Except one.

Now he could hear it being screamed from outside, and he could feel the muscles in his neck tensing, struggling to lift his head. His throat was so raw that calling out to her was out of the question, and he wouldn't even entertain the thought that Anya was there too to find him by hearing his thoughts...

It didn't take long for the door to swing open.

He couldn't see her clearly; his remaining eye was almost perpetually used to darkness now, and it was filled with gunk. But her voice, oh her voice, calling out his name…

Stop that, he wanted to tell her. You know that's not my real name.

But she wouldn't stop calling him that, and he couldn't deny how the sound of it felt like a balm to his wounded soul. His body fell limp on hers, but he wasn't surprised by the agility with which she carried him outside. He'd seen her in full-on assassin mode only once, but it was enough.

It could give him the strength to walk on his own legs, one weak from malnutrition and one almost broken, to take some of the weight off of her. She said it was okay and that he could rest, but before the relief could settle in him he spotted it; a barrel of a gun aimed straight at her.

He found the strength then. He pulled off, standing in front of her just in time for two bullets to pierce his chest and not hers.

He couldn't register much after that. He heard Yor grunt in effort; half a second later, the man who had shot him was now choking on his own blood.

Yor was screaming again. Stay with me, stay with me!

He couldn't stop his lips from smiling, even as he felt blood drip from them. There were so many ways Anya had saved him. The one he hadn't counted yet was choosing an assassin for her mother…

No. There was still one more way.

It pulled at his heart now, with every time they called at him.

He could sense a warm, soft mattress underneath him, a stark contrast to the cold concrete he'd been sleeping on for the past weeks, or even the padded cell. A thick blanket over him, new and clean bandages covering his multiple wounds.

Yet he felt like he was drowning, within all the lies he'd said, all the fake hims he had assumed, all the false names. He'd been telling himself it was for peace. But now, lying broken and lost within his nightmares, he couldn't figure out who of all his selves wanted that, and why.

Lucas from the terrorist organization was certainly the kind of guy who'd strive for the opposite. Robert, who worked for a corrupt politician and dated said politician's daughter would not care as much. Lawrence's black market deals were more beneficial the more upset there was. Many wouldn't care, and the rest would just say it was for the best.

He hadn't forgotten his purpose. But it was buried so deep within him that he was scared to trudge through all his selves, the good and the bad. He hadn't been that one in so long, and he would never be him again.

But maybe… it was finally time to come to terms with him.

His past, fake selves were glaring at him as he passed through them; he told himself he deserved it.

And there, at the end of the line, stood him; in his small form, clutching at his torn shirt, weeping as he stood in front of the ruins that had become his first family's graves.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal you."

The boy looked at him, though his sobs had barely eased.

The biggest lie he'd told himself in all those years was that there was nothing he was personally hoping to gain. Now here he stood, looking at the part of him he'd secretly wished to mend, still as broken as he always was.

He'd secretly wished that, with every child's innocence he could protect, maybe the pain of his past would ease a little.

Was it that wrong of him? To have such a selfish desire hidden in his dedication to his spy work?

He could see it now. He could never fix something in him that would cause a chain reaction of happiness to his present self.

But maybe that was okay.

He reached his arms for the boy. He could see his missing fingers, and he quickly wondered if the scars on his face, especially the one of his missing eye, would scare him. Instead, the boy ran into his arms.

He now knew he couldn't chase that part of him away, no matter the agony ripping at him whenever he thought of it. He had to accept it, carry it... and let it guide him for once.

He'd fought all these years for no-one else to bear such a pain in their hearts, treating it like the example he didn't want for others.

But that part had ached with him all along. It had hoped and it had yearned.

He was never going to be that boy again. But he would let him lead him into what he knew they both wished for now.

He picked the boy up as he raised to his feet. He looked ahead and started walking towards the sounds he'd almost lost hope of ever hearing again.

There was one name he didn't need to train himself to anymore. A name he'd turn to by feeling, and not by conscious thought.

Loid.

The only title he'd strived for until now was the title of agent. Not for the glory it would never award him with, but for the doors it would open. Since becoming that, he'd never cared for another title.

Yet now he found himself responding to a title by pure instinct; a title he'd fight to the ends of time to be worthy of.

Papa.

He opened his one eye, slowly focusing on the two figures standing above him. Pink hair pulled in a ponytail, green eyes shining with tears. Black messy hair, ruby eyes over bags and dark circles.

They smiled at him, and he managed a smile back.

He didn't know who he was; but he knew who he wanted to be.

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Seventeen

Jalen couldn't stand losing. A game, a bet, the love of his life, didn't matter. He hated it, and when it rained, it poured. He didn't just lose one thing. He lost everything.

LA was a mistake, looking for a job there, suggesting he and Nayeli move, all of it the worst decision he ever made. It actively started the demise of the only relationship that ever meant anything to him, and subsequently, his life. He never recognized how much easier his days were thanks to her.

Minuscule things she did made a big difference, like her words of encouragement that kept him going when he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, her attention to detail and organization skills that kept him in line and made their household run smoothly, her unfaltering support that allowed him the freedom to do things that made him happy. Things he'd never done for or given to her.

He was a shit boyfriend, but he wouldn't be a shit husband. He couldn't be, otherwise all the effort he was making would be for nothing. He rapidly tapped his foot on the pavement as he attempted to map out his next moves while he waited outside of a coffee shop. Ten more minutes, and he was going to say fuck it.

Not his best idea either, but he was running out of options. Everything was going wrong. His job didn't pan out the way he wanted, and he was depleting his savings trying to look for another one in the meantime. The jewelry store across the street was set to burn another large hole in his wallet. Nayeli was worth it. He would deal with packs of ramen for lunch and dinner if it meant getting her back.

Jalen checked his watch, foot tapping unchanged. The noise in combination with his loud exhaling annoyed the couple at the table next to him so much they took their cups and abandoned the outdoor seating all together. He'd lost faith, metal chair legs scraping the concrete as he stood up and tossed the remainder of his black coffee in the nearby trashcan.

The wind was unforgiving, and his jacket did little to prevent him from feeling it. Heading to the corner, he hit the button to cross the street and looked up. Familiar eyes glared at him. He stood rooted to the spot until she reached him, "Hey," he said.

"Hm."

"Thank you for meeting me."

"Let's make this shit quick. Why am I here?" Maxine asked, tucking a three-strand mini twist behind her left ear.

"I need help."

"Tell me something I don't already know."

Jalen didn't expect her to be kind. Out of the three Gallagher women, her lips were the loosest. She could say whatever, whenever, and she was never shy when she didn't like something or someone. He unfortunately found himself on that list after avoiding it for years, "I get that I'm not someone you care for, but can we put that aside for a minute?" He was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures. His last chance could easily slip through his fingers if he wasn't careful.

"Hell no. You broke my little sister's heart. It's up every time I see you. I shouldn't even be here. I just wanted to hear whatever lame ass excuse you had." She also wanted to tell him how stupid he was for it afterward.

"I'm trying to make things right."

"You're way past being able to do that."

"I have no choice but to try. Nayeli is my whole world."

"Time to find a new one. She's not worried about you."

"Maxine, please. I know I fucked up, but you gotta help me," Jalen begged. She was his only option. Leticia barely tolerated him, and he couldn't face their parents yet.

"With what? You lied to her for years. You knew what she wanted, you know what she's worth and you still felt like it was okay to manipulate her because a marriage license is too much commitment for you."

"That's not what happened."

"That's exactly what happened. There's nothing you can say to justify the way you treated her, so if we're done here-"

"It's not a commitment issue. I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life with her. That's what I want," he argued.

"Then why didn't your stupid ass get down on one knee like a man and ask her to marry you?"

He wasn't prepared to share that. He hadn't discussed his reasoning with anyone because he never wanted an outside opinion on his views, but he was running out of time, "Marriage destroyed my parents. They were together, unmarried and happy for most of my childhood and when I started middle school, they decided to just go through the legal process because they'd been together for so long. That slip of paper changed everything about their relationship. It made them hate each other. They fought all the time, and their shit trickled down to me and my sister when they got divorced three years later. Between child support and other bullshit, none of us knew peace. It got so bad that my dad stopped coming around for years. My mom is still bitter to this day. I couldn't let that happen to me and Nayeli."

"Lame ass excuse, exactly like I thought. You're a coward. Nothing more, nothing less. Nayeli is not your mother, and you are not your father. Or shit, maybe you are and you did us all a favor by fucking up so much you removed yourself from our lives. Either way, when shit like that happens, you have the opportunity to make different choices. You could've gone to therapy, you could've talked to Nayeli about that and come up with a compromise together. You chose to take the easy route instead and lost out on the best woman you're ever gonna get. You didn't even want to try, and my sister deserves better."

"I know that."

"Knowing is clearly not enough, otherwise you wouldn't be further irking my already irked nerves. Why am I here, Jalen? I'm not putting a bug in her ear for you," Maxine spat, extra irritated that she was nosy enough to let the idiot waste the second half of her Sunday morning. If she wanted to be that annoyed, she would've stayed at home with her mean ass wife.

"I need you to help me pick out a ring. You're right, I was a coward. I've always been afraid that if I got married, it would go to shit just like it did for my parents, but I want to be with Nayeli, so if I have to get married to do that, I will. I'm going to ask her to marry me, and I'd really appreciate it if you would help me," he explained, anger beginning to boil like water in a tea kettle when she cackled in his face. She was dramatic with it, bending over, clutching her sides and pretending to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, "What the fuck is so funny?"

"Oh, you weren't joking? I thought you were because the only other explanation I can come up with for why you just said that dumb shit is because you're delusional. She's done. You'll be lucky if she looks at you again."

"Why, because she has EJ now?" He tried to ignore the thought of Nayeli with another man in general, but knowing who she spent her time with made his stomach and chest burn. That nigga swooped in while they were on the rocks and snatched Nayeli right out from underneath him. It couldn't be a coincidence that she was so ready to leave once EJ entered the picture.

"Nope. Don't do that. Her life is no longer your business," Max said, but he didn't care. Nayeli would always be his business. They were each other's first love. She would never forget about him, and no one would be better than her.

"Ten weeks is nothing compared to six years. We have a bond they'll never have."

"You don't even know......" Max laughed again, this time cold and humorless, "I hate to be the one to tell you-actually, I take that back. Nothing would bring me greater joy than bursting your arrogant ass bubble. EJ loves my sister. On some Disney movie happily ever after shit, like he'd marry her today if she said yes and pop out a kid tomorrow if they could shit. Whatever bond you thought you had disintegrated the second she found out you lied. A ring two months after the fact isn't going to change that. You lost. Move on."

"That'll never happen."

"Prepare to get your feelings hurt repeatedly then. She has no plausible reason to go back to you."

"If he's out of the picture, she will." He was confident that EJ was simply standing in his way. Remove the block and he could figure the rest out himself. He was already working on it. Nayeli broke up with him because she thought he didn't want to marry her. If they got married, that solved the problem, but his proposal had to be perfect. He wasn't sure how he would make that happen now that it was clear Maxine wouldn't provide an assist.

"Now you sound crazy. The only way he'd leave her is if she told him to, and I guarantee you, that's not happening. You harping on the amount of time y'all were together when he's done more for her in two months than you did in six years. That man is not afraid of shit and will knock you on your ass faster than you can fix your mouth to yell HELP, but you knew that."

"He can try."

"And you'd do what? You're not beating him in a fight."

"I don't need to. That's what a lawsuit is for." Jalen did his due diligence and was gearing up for war. EJ was someone that liked to stay out of the way and live quietly. The lack of personal information online about him said as much. Even at the height of his boxing career, most news articles were ones he gave personally or summaries of them. He had a perfectly curated image and reputation, untarnished by scandal, but not for long. And once the train wreck started, it would be hard to stop. A few tabloids posted rumors in the past, nothing that stuck out or gained a lot of traction. His baby momma was mentioned a couple of times, and that only made Jalen want to work harder. No way did he want Nayeli settling for being a stepmom to an urchin when they could have kids of their own. Soil the man's public persona, take his money, and the rest of the job would do itself.

"You have shit for brains. I'm convinced. Instigating a fight then taking it to court not only makes you look pussy, but a judge won't side with you."

"I already got shit on him."

"You mean that night you showed up at Nayeli's unannounced and found out what was what? That won't help you. You tried to rush your way into my sister's house and got handled. That was your fault. If you wanted to do something about it, you should've fought back then." Had he done what he wanted to do, neither of them would end up with Nayeli, "You were escorted off the property by the police instead. Whatever plan you're trying to cook up won't make Nayeli change her mind. Nothing will. You need to move on. If you really love her like you say, let her be happy."

She would be happy. With him. It was the only option he would accept.

☼☼☼

The streets were busy. Last minute shoppers and incoming travelers crowded the roads and sent many disappointed people Nayeli's way given that she was technically closed. Her front door remained unlocked for the people coming in to pick up their early dessert orders and kits. She rested at a table near the windows so she could see who was coming and stood when her second to last customer of the day walked in.

"Good morning, Rose," she chirped happily at the woman with blue eyes and freshly toned platinum hair. Nayeli provided her desserts for every holiday, the two becoming well acquainted over the years.

"I don't know about good, but morning."

"Uh oh. Who did it?"

"My mother-in-law. I'll be glad when this holiday is over and she goes back to Tempe," Rose said with a slight attitude, "Anyway, how's it going? I've never seen this place empty. You're sold out already?"

"Technically, we're closed today. It's my birthday, and I have plans, but I didn't want cancel anyone's preorders. I have one more pick up after you, and then I'm out of here."

"Happy birthday! Are you doing something fun?"

"Thank you. I think so, but I'm not sure. The man I'm dating is taking care of everything. I'm just getting in the car."

"Love that for you!" Rose clapped her hands and smiled. Nayeli walked into the kitchen and picked up the four boxes, checking the list one last time make sure she had everything on it and returning to the front.

"Pecan pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, and chocolate turtles," she said, setting the boxes on the counter and ringing up the items. Rose handed over her debit card and slid some cash into one of the tip jars.

"Thank you so much, Nayeli. You never disappoint."

"You're welcome."

"Enjoy your day!"

"I will." She waved as Rose left, glanced at the clock and jogged into her office to use the restroom. One order left for pick up, she had about half an hour to relax and text Ezra that he was all right to start driving back her way so they could head out. Anticipation was killing her. She couldn't wait to see what they were going to do.

As she responded to a few messages from family and friends, she walked out of her office and felt that she wasn't alone. She looked up and stopped walking, tempted to go back into her office, lock the door and wait for Ezra to get there.

"Happy birthday, Nye," Jalen said, holding a silver gift bag and a black and silver box.

"Thank you. The sign in the window says we're closed."

"You're never closed on your birthday."

"I couldn't afford to do it in the past. I can now. Is there a reason you're here?" she asked, keeping space between them as she moved around him and walked behind the counter. She was wary of his presence after the phone call she got from Max. According to her sister, Jalen wasn't all there. Her index finger hovered over the silent alarm button.

"Yeah, there is. Can we sit down?"

"For what, exactly? I feel like everything that needed to be said between us has already been said." And then some. She didn't forget about him trying to call her a hoe on the sly.

"I have a few more things to get off my chest."

"You're gonna need to make it quick. One more person is coming to pick up their order, and I'm leaving."

Jalen set her gifts on the counter after he realized that she wasn't going to come any closer to him, wiping his nervous, sweaty hands on his pants as he cleared his throat, "I apologize for not being honest with you from the beginning. I see the damage I've caused, and that was never my intention. I wanted to be with you. I still do, and I thought that was the only way you'd give me a fair shot. I've tried to make excuses to justify why I lied, but wrong is wrong. I know that, and I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"I'm not finished," he said and pulled a crumpled paper out of his pocket, flattening it as much as he could and looking up at her with shifty eyes as he read off of it, "Nayeli, people say that there's someone out there for everyone, plenty of fish in the sea, and a lid for every pot, but none of those people are you. You are a beautiful woman with undeniable confidence, and you always pushed me to be my best self, even when I pushed back. I'm sorry that I didn't do right by you the first time around, but I promise if you give me a second chance, I won't disappoint you again. I'll do everything in my power to make up for my mistakes because I love you more than my last breath." He set the paper down and picked up the box, pulling back the top and revealing an oval half-carat diamond ring with a rose gold band as he got down on one knee and looked up at her, "Will you marry me?"

For a second, Nayeli thought she might've been in a dream turned nightmare because there was no way that was real life, "No," she answered firmly after pinching herself to make sure that she was awake.

"No?"

"Absolutely not." Neither of them moved. He looked stunned at her answer, blinking as though he didn't completely understand what she said, "Jalen, get up."

"I thought this is what you wanted."

"When I wanted you, yes, but I don't anymore, and I don't understand why you think I would when you insulted me the last time we saw each other. No matter how upset you've made me, I've never disrespected you. I was not shown the same courtesy. When I said we were done, I meant it."

"I was out of line because I was pissed off."

"That makes it right?"

"No, but how did you think I would feel seeing another man come out of our house? One I asked you about before we broke up at that. Why was he even there?"

"My house. I won't remind you again. It's not your business why he was there, just like it wasn't that night. You couldn't have actually thought that I would sit around twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to come to your senses."

"Yeah, I did. We've fought before. We always found a way to work it out," he said, finally rising to his feet.

"There was nothing to work out. You're a liar. I don't know what the truth is and isn't when it comes to you anymore. How could I ever believe anything you say going forward? It was about more than marriage. I always made sure you were good, that you were happy and had whatever you wanted or needed. You never once put my happiness first, and you would've let me suffer if it meant you could keep siphoning my energy and denying me a chance to find real love. You're so selfish that you thought asking me to marry you on my birthday after what you've done would be a romantic gesture. It's like you don't know me at all. Why would I want to be married to someone like that?"

"What we have is real, Nye. I love you, and I'll change. I'll see a therapist. I n-"

Nayeli held up her hand to silence him and shook her head, "I do not want to be with you now or ever again. I don't know how much clearer I can be. Go back to LA and live your life. I'm positive there are plenty of beautiful women out there that don't believe in marriage just like you. Find one and flourish."

"None of this is worth it without you." His eyes were watering, but they didn't faze her. He was like a slow fly on its last leg that refused to go down and die peacefully. She needed a swatter.

"I'm sorry, but that's not my problem. You have to figure it out and leave me be. I don't want to have to call the cops on you again. Please go," she told him, praying that her phone was vibrating in her pocket because Ezra was parking or getting ready to walk in.

"How can you be so cold towards me?"

"You haven't seen cold, Jalen. To be honest, I've been too nice. I'm always too nice. No more. Not for someone that doesn't respect me. Get out. You have 60 seconds before I call the police." He used every second, silently pleading for another chance she wasn't willing to give. There were no feelings left for him, save for some fear because he could be capable of anything, and Max's warning wasn't one to take lightly. He left the gift bag in front of her along with the ring box, chin tucked as he walked out. She let out a long sigh of relief, and her eyes slid closed, popping back open when she heard the door. She was ready to curse until she saw Ezra and let out another relieved sigh, "Oh, thank God." She hopped over the counter instead of going around it and ran to him, burying her face in his black knit pull over.

"Are you okay?" he asked, rubbing between her shoulders.

"Jalen was just here."

"I know. I saw him leave." The men had made brief eye contact before Jalen got into his car. The latter had a lot to say, but none of it was said directly, "He stopped by to wish you a happy birthday?"

"To ask me to marry him like an idiot. I should've known he was going to pop up."

"Why would you know something like that?"

"Max called me a couple of days ago to warn me. He asked her to meet to help him pick out a ring and plan a proposal. This was his Hail Mary. On my damn birthday. I've only met one person in the world that's less considerate."

"Forget about him. Today is your day." Ezra smoothed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead until he felt the stiffness in her body soften out. He had half a mind to find Jalen and crack his jaw for upsetting her. She was obviously shaken up, and that pissed him off. She shouldn't be anything but ecstatic on her birthday.

"It absolutely is. I'm just waiting for the last person to come pick up her pumpkin pie cupcakes and pumpkin cheesecake. She should be here soon. Can I get you something?"

"I'm alright, just ready to get you out of here."

"Believe me, I'm ready to leave." Standing on her toes, she draped her arms over his shoulders and pecked his lips, "Where are we going?"

"Santa Barbara."

"SB is pretty. I'm excited." There was plenty to do out there, and it would be cool to experience a different city for the day. She got ready to go into the kitchen and froze when she saw the bag and box Jalen left, "Fuck."

"What?"

"Asshole left the ring." She'd forgotten about both items and wasn't sure what to do with them. She didn't want to keep them, though. That much she knew.

"He probably did it on purpose."

"I know he did. It's his way of making sure he has to see me again. He wants me to give it back so he has another opportunity to plead his case. Would I be wrong if I sold it and gave the money to a homeless shelter?" she asked, picking up the ring box and dropping it into the bag. No idea what else was inside, she wanted it to stay that way.

"Giving back to the less fortunate is never wrong."

"It's settled then. I'll sell it and drop off the check when I take the next round of clothes over."

Ezra loved her. There was no denying it, although he didn't try to. He'd never been so sure about anything in his 37 years on Earth. Everyday, she did something that made him love her more. Maxine's statement about her being too pure for the world popped up in his head often, and she always proved why that statement was true, "When you look up the word saint in the dictionary, your picture has to be next to it."

"That's sweet, but I'm nothing close to a saint."

"You're closer than majority of the population. Most people in your shoes would pocket the money."

"I don't need it, so why keep it?"

"Not everybody thinks like you, baby." He wanted to give her the world. She would never ask him for it, and that was more than enough incentive. She deserved everything, and he'd be damned if she didn't get it from him.

He waited for her to finish up, eager to get on the road and show her all he had set up for them. They were making three stops, each one better than the next. Well, he hoped she would think so. As she was locking up, he swore he saw a familiar car roll by, but the person didn't stop or slow down enough to catch who was inside. He put the thought in the back of his head and kissed Nayeli all the way to his SUV.

"What's in Santa Barbara?" she asked, tapping the button for her seat warmer and pushing one of the vents to blow heat on her directly.

"Everything I have planned for the day."

"Detailed answer," she quipped and squeezed his fingers when they slipped into hers.

"Brandy and Trinity want to take you out for drinks sometime this week." Ezra changed the subject because there was something more pressing that he wanted to talk to her about. His mother was bugging him, but he had an agenda of his own.

"That sounds fun. I'm down."

"Are you down to bring your family to my house on Sunday?" he asked, glancing over at her to gauge her reaction.

"My family?" Nayeli gave him a confused look.

"Your parents, your grandparents, your brothers and sisters, everybody."

"I could ask them, but aren't your people still going to be here?"

"That's why I'm asking. I don't know when everyone is gonna be together again, and I want them to meet. If you're not comfortable, it's cool."

"You want our families to meet," she said slowly, trying to wrap her head around what he was asking her and what it meant.

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't expecting it. I'll talk to them on Thanksgiving." She didn't know how she was going to explain the situation or herself. A list of questions she would have to answer started to form in her head. She chewed her lip as her stomach began to flutter and turn.

"It's alright if you don't want to. You look freaked out."

"I am, a little. That doesn't mean I don't want to, but I'd like to know why."

"I don't think you're ready to hear it." He was probably right, but not knowing would allow her mind to roam, and her imagination was very active left to its own devices. Whether she was ready or not, she decided she didn't want to be in the dark.

"You'd be surprised."

"......Okay. I was gonna wait until I gave you your gift to tell you this, or longer probably, but I'll tell you now." She wasn't under the impression that she was getting a gift from him. She thought him taking her out for the day was her gift, so more anticipation gnawed at her on top of all that she was already feeling. She turned her body toward Ezra's and covered the top of her hand with his free one. He looked as nervous as she felt, "November 21st is special for more than one reason. A year ago today, I prayed for the kind of woman I want to be my wife. I asked for patience. I asked for understanding. I asked for loyalty. I asked for love that ran so deep, it would never waver, only transform. That night, I dreamt about you for the first time."

"On my birthday," she whispered in shock, her heart awkwardly slowing down then going into overdrive. A wave of dizziness crashed down on her, and the car spun.

"On your birthday. This is a whole lot bigger than us, Shortcake. Bigger than either of us thought, but I'm ready. I want your people to get to know me and see where I come from, and I want them to know that you're safe with me. I want our families to meet because at some point, they'll be one, and they should know each other well when that happens. Is that okay? Because if it's not, tell me and we don't have to do anything." he said. When he looked over at her, he thought she might be sick. Her eyes were closed, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She appeared to be holding her breath, as well.

Once again, Nayeli thought she might've been dreaming. She pinched herself for the second time that day, and nope. She was very much awake and floating. Words were just words, but Ezra put action behind his. Every time.

He asked for a wife and dreamt of her. Then he found her and pursued her. Morgan's slip came to mind. The day she almost kicked Savannah's ass, he told his friends they were coming over to meet his wife. It all made sense, the way he treated her, the things he said, why he thought they didn't need boundaries. He already saw her as his spouse. He was trying to take the proper steps, but he was too far gone. So was she.

"Everyone's going to think we're crazy," she said once she found her breath and wits.

"I really don't give a shit what anybody thinks. You are who I prayed for." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, grateful that she didn't outright say no or tell him to pull over the car so she could hop out. He was worried about telling her too much so early on, but he remembered that his pops told his mom he loved her after ten days. They'd been married longer than he'd been alive.

Love didn't know time. The same way he prayed for a wife, he prayed Nayeli would love him as much as he loved her because he was already deeper than the bottom of the ocean.