#in the dream i looked up and met her eyes in the rearview mirror and just thought 'she knows' and this completw understanding washed over me

[jennay]

My Best Friend (4)

Noah Sebastian x reader

Master List

Summary: Noah and Jolly learn secrets about reader.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged 💜

1/2/3/4/5

Falling in your dreams from a high place had to be one of the worst feelings. But waking up to realize you had actually fallen off the back seat of the van you were sleeping on was even worse. Your face collided with the back of the passenger seat, sending a sharp pain through your nose. This was definitely not how you wanted to wake up.

“What the…?” you groaned, still feeling the jolt from Noah slamming on the brakes. Your nose throbbed, and you could already feel a bruise forming. You rubbed your face, trying to shake off the disorientation and the lingering remnants of your dream.

Noah pulled off to the side of the road, stopping and throwing the van into park. He turned around to face you, his short brown hair falling into his eyes, panic written all over his face. Jolly looked equally horrified.

You slowly scooped yourself off the ground, sitting back in the seat and gently rubbing your face. “What happened?!”

“That guy came out of nowhere,” Noah said, looking forward at the road, shakily putting his large tattooed hand back on the steering wheel. “Are you guys okay?”

You nodded, throwing your seat belt over your shoulder. “I think I prefer Jolly to drive,” you said with a soft yawn. “Where are we, what time is it?”

“Salem, Oregon…” Jolly said with a mischievous smile.

Your eyes widened in horror. “Why are we in SALEM, JOLLY, that’s not the route we agreed on?!”

Noah chuckled and pulled back onto the highway. “To see your family. Why else would we go there?” He paused, glancing at you in the rearview mirror, slightly surprised. “I thought you’d be happy? I know you’ve been missing them and it’s not like we really had a set plan.”

You shake your head, “I thought we were going to Washington??”

“I said one stop was in Washington besides I haven’t seen them in forever and I think seeing your sister would do you good, I already texted her and she’s excited to see us and meet Noah.” Jolly reminds you. “Why are you acting like this?”

“You text her!?” You almost scream. “Why?”

“Um…” He says sarcastically drawing out the m… “If it wasn’t for your sister we would’ve never met and you wouldn’t have your best friend Noah, which also offends me that Noah became your best friend!”

You lightly shake your head. “You do know she’s married?” You remind him. “Like a ring and kids married.” You feel your heart thud in your chest. Between laying down napping and watching movies you weren’t paying attention to the routes. The last thing you remembered seeing was Medford, Oregon.

Jolly shrugs his shoulders, “That’s fine it’s never been like that with her and me. We were always friends.” He turns to face you, “Now, explain why you’re being weird.”

You sighed, feeling a mix of emotions but mostly panic. “They only kind of know about Michael.”

Jolly laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“They knew I was dating someone… they just didn’t know it was him at least not the whole time. They met him on FaceTime a couple times, my mom hated him… told me he reminded her of my dad. And my sister nearly died when she saw how much I was going out and drinking… Everyone panicked, so I told them we broke up a while back. I don't even want to get started with what my brothers said.” You lean your head against the window attempting to breathe without distress. “So I made up a story and told them I was dating Noah and that we moved in together… I just wanted them to stop worrying,” you sheepishly admitted.

Noah nearly choked on his coffee. “Wait, what?!”

You shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, we live together now…”

“We don’t live together like that…” He shook his head. “We’ve never dated, now I’m your boyfriend?” He laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. “I guess I should feel honored.” He smiled again, “How long have you been lying to them and how the hell did you pull it off?”

You shrugged your shoulders, returning his gaze. “We take pictures together all the time, and I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t over at the house a lot even when Michael and I were together.” You rubbed your temples, regretting you said anything.

“Okay, but I’m gonna need some details… I don’t even know how long we’ve been dating.” He looked over at Jolly, “Can you believe her?”

You took a deep breath, “To them, I left Michael after three months, then I took a break… and I think we’ve been dating for, I don’t know, like six months?”

“Six months?!” Noah laughed, “That’s intimacy level.”

Jolly burst out laughing. “This trip just got a whole lot more interesting. Can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

“You guys fucking suck. Wake me up when we get there…and don’t kill us.” You say curling up in your seat.

Noah rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll do my best, babe.” he says winking in the rearview. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

__

You stood in front of your sister’s front door, feeling Noah and Jolly crowding your space. Taking a deep breath, you placed your hand on the doorknob and slowly twisted it open. “Stephanie?” you called, waiting for a response. “We’re here!” you announced as you stepped inside.

Within seconds, your sister came bolting around the corner, heading directly toward you. She squeezed you tight, holding you close and rocking you back and forth. “I’m so happy you're here!” she squealed, pulling back to look at you.

You laughed a little, spotting her husband Kyle coming to join you in the kitchen. He walked straight to Noah, extending his hand. “You must be Noah,” he said, shaking his hand firmly. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

Noah nodded, remembering the previous conversation. He tried his best not to laugh, thinking about how you had explained that he was now your pretend boyfriend. “I’m sure she exaggerated a bit,” he said, grinning.

He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. You stumbled a bit, moving closer to his side, and softly wrapped your arm around his waist. You felt him kiss the top of your head, and you smiled as you met your sister's gaze. Her eyes sparkled as she watched you and Noah, clearly happy and believing it all.

“Well, I feel out of place,” Jolly teased. “Everyone’s coupled up, and here I am.”

Stephanie giggled, pushing her straight long brown hair behind her shoulders. “You’ve always been the odd one out,” she joked.

Jolly shrugged. “Should we sit?”

As the crowd started moving to the living room, you realized your head was still resting on Noah’s chest, and you were still cradled in his arms. A small flip in your stomach happened, and you gently pulled away. Noah’s eyes caught yours, and you weakly smiled up at him, signaling you were okay.

“Go ahead,” you said, gesturing behind everyone. “I’ll catch up in a second. I just need to use the bathroom.”

You took a moment to steady yourself, feeling the warmth of Noah's embrace lingering. As you made your way to the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of the family photos lining the hallway. Each picture told a story, from Stephanie’s life, and childhood memories to recent celebrations. The nostalgia tugged at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of simpler times.

After freshening up, you returned to the living room where everyone was settling in. Noah was already engaged in a lively conversation with Kyle, and Jolly was making Stephanie laugh with one of his jokes. You felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that despite everything, you were not alone.

You joined them, taking a seat next to Noah. He glanced at you, his eyes filled with understanding and reassurance. You leaned into him slightly, feeling the comfort of his presence.

Your attention flung to your sister when she said, “How long has it been?” You didn’t notice how much you were zoning out until then.

“How long what?” you questioned, blinking away the haze of your thoughts.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” She paused, still smiling as she spoke. “I was so mad when you moved with Jolly. I could’ve killed you both.” She laughed, but there was an edge to her voice.

“I was just here like three years ago. You drama queen,” you said, smiling.

She took a sip of her wine, looking directly at Noah. You could tell she was mustering up her courage to say something. “Did you ever meet her ex?” she asked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Jolly and Noah both nodded their heads, not wanting to say anything to piss you off, knowing it was still a touchy subject.

“God, wasn’t he the worst?” Stephanie continued, her tone casual but her words cutting deep.

You felt your stomach twist and turn. This was not what you wanted to do right now. “We don’t need to talk about him,” you reminded her, your voice strained.

Kyle rubbed his hand down Stephanie’s back. “Maybe a conversation for you and your sister in private,” he whispered, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I kinda wanna talk about it now,” she said, her eyes darting to Jolly. “Because how did you of all people not see the signs of abuse?” She set her wine down on the table beside her. “And from what I heard, you two were pretty close before dating.” she points to Noah.

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her words. “Stephanie, not now.”

“Abuse?” Noah said, pulling his weight away from you. His curious brown eyes were full of sadness, watching you intently. How did he not see it? His arm was still draped around your waist as he waited for your answer.

“He didn’t abuse me,” you assured the two men, your voice trembling slightly.

“Maybe not physically, but there for a minute, I didn’t even know who you were. That man was manipulating the hell out of you and made you feel so bad all the time. I’m so glad you didn’t end up marrying him like you said you would.” She shook her head, her features turning angry. “You’d probably be dead within a year.”

Your mouth dropped. “That’s a messed up thing to say.”

“You swallowed a bunch of pills in April because you couldn’t handle all the shit, so don’t tell me you wouldn’t be dead nine months later,” she shot back, her voice rising with each word.

Noah’s grip tightened around you, his confusion and concern palpable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I could have helped.”

Jolly’s face was a mask of disbelief, his usual jovial expression replaced with a look of horror. 

“He didn’t even go with her to the hospital,” Stephanie said, shaking her head in disapproval.

You stood up quickly, shaking your head as you stared at her in disbelief. “That was an awful thing to tell them. If I wanted them to know, I would’ve told them myself.” You took in a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, before grabbing your bag and heading to the spare room.

You heard footsteps following close behind you, and before you could shut the door, it bounced back from Noah sticking his foot in the way. You turned around, guilty eyes watching Noah as he closed the door and walked towards you. He stared at the ground, trying to find the words to say to you but unsure of how to start the conversation.

You sat next to him but avoided making eye contact. “It didn’t feel important,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, his face turning to anger but still keeping his composure. “Not important? You almost died, and you think that’s not important?” His voice was low but filled with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I can’t believe you went through that alone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to hold back tears. “I didn’t want to burden anyone,” you said, your voice trembling. “I thought I could handle it on my own.”

Noah’s expression softened slightly, but the pain in his eyes remained. “You don’t have to handle everything by yourself. We’re here for you, always.” He reached out, gently taking your hand in his.

You nodded, agreeing with him. You didn’t want to argue; you were growing tired. “I think I need sleep. We can talk about this more in the morning if you want.”

He nodded in agreement and stood up, grabbing a pillow and a throw blanket from the floor. You watched him curiously, the soft rustling of fabric filling the quiet room. “What are you doing?”

“Making my bed,” he replied with a small smile, his voice gentle.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension. “The bed is big enough for both of us.”

He hesitated for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you. “It’s gonna look weird if you’re on the floor in the morning.” You faintly smile.

 He nods in agreement sitting up. He plays along with your game. You both settled into the bed, you felt the cool sheets against your skin, contrasting with the warmth of his body next to you. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh linen, creating a soothing atmosphere.

His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close and at first you think it’s weird but when he whispers, “I can’t believe I almost lost you and didn’t know.” You realize this is a friend trying to hold close what almost disappeared from him. 

The steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle rise and fall of his chest began to lull you into a peaceful sleep. You could hear the soft hum of the night outside, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The light barely peeked through the window casting a soft glow on Noah’s face.

“Goodnight,” he whispered softly.

The warmth of his embrace and the feeling of his heartbeat against your back made you feel safe and cared for. For the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace as you drifted off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Noah.”

[bokutosbabe]

omg i’m in love w ur writing 😭

if you can (ofc), for the bllk spotify match up my top artist was gracie abrams and her song “close to you” 💔 i saw your post and i think it’d give a super fun scenario

hiii!! tysm! ofc!

if your top artist was gracie abrams and your top song was close to you, i’d pair you with…

chigiri hyoma

જ⁀♡⊹｡° break my heart and start a fire

♡ a/n — part of my spotify wrapped event ♡

♡ content — chigiri hyoma x gn! reader, lowkey has no time frame but focused on chigiri after his injury, reader and chigiri drifting apart, best friends to...strangers?

♡ synopsis — you'd been by his side for everything, even when he got hurt, but after his passion for soccer is reignited; are you enough for him anymore?

you remember when it used to be easy with him. when the distance between you felt like nothing more than a passing breeze, a gap easily closed with a word, a laugh, a look.

but now, as you sit across the room from him, it feels like an entire ocean stretches between you.

hyoma’s always had a way of making everything seem effortless—the way he glides on the field, the way his hair catches the light, the way he looks at you with eyes that always seem to see right through you. but lately, his eyes don’t linger like they used to.

he’s here, but he’s not. not really.

“hyoma,” you say softly, testing the weight of his name on your tongue instead of one of the many nicknames you'd given him.

he looks up from where he’s lacing his cleats, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “yeah?”

you don’t know what you want to say, not exactly. there are a million things you want to tell him, but none of them feel like they’ll reach him. not the version of him who sits in front of you now, so focused, so unreachable.

“do you ever—” you stop yourself.

what were you going to say? consider quitting soccer for good? thinking about not joining blue lock? thinking about you for once?

no matter what you wanted to ask, this isn’t the time.

he tilts his head, waiting. for a moment, you see the boy he used to be—the one who would wait for you outside after class, who’d smile when you teased him, who’d let you in without question.

but it’s fleeting, like a ghost of someone you once knew.

“never mind,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “it’s not important.”

you wouldn't burden him with your hypotheticals.

he nods, already turning his attention back to his gear. it’s not his fault, you tell yourself. this is who he is—dedicated, driven, chasing something bigger than either of you. you knew that the day you met him.

but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

you watch him tie the last knot, the sharp, determined movements so distinctly him. and you wish, desperately, that you could be closer to him. not just physically, but truly close.

close enough to bridge the gap that seems to widen with every passing day.

but hyoma’s world is one of constant motion, a blur of goals and dreams that you’re not sure you can keep up with.

you’re terrified that one day, he’ll run so far ahead that you won’t even be a speck in his rearview mirror.

when he stands, hiking his bag over his shoulder, he pauses. “i’ll see you later, okay?” he says, his voice soft.

a reassurance that, maybe, just maybe, the boy you knew is still inside him somewhere.

you nod, but your chest aches. “yeah. see you later.”

he smiles, that same breathtaking smile that used to feel like it was meant just for you. but now, it feels like it belongs to someone else.

that smile belongs to his dreams, his ambitions, his future—one that you’re not sure you’re a part of anymore.

the door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with the silence.

you hate how much you miss him, even when he’s right in front of you.

you hate how far away he feels, even when he promises to come back.

but most of all, you hate that no matter how much you long to be close to him again, you know deep down that he’s already drifting too far away.

definitely went off of what i originally wanted to do lmao, but i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[sneak-pieck]

Part 1: Sometimes Life Turns Out Alright

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hange Zoe

Summary: Life simply seems to be absolutely perfect. Perhaps it really..just is.

Word count: 617

Part 1/? (Not sure how much I'll write,will edit later)

The blinding hospital lights had nothing against the relief one feels when the silent newborn they are offered suddenly bursts into loud and aggravated crying. When it begins slowly nudging its head around, searching for the comfort of its mother’s warm skin..it feels like life is truly complete. Hange personally may dare say they had never felt so alive.

Doctors muttering and shuffling around in the seemingly cramped room would, under any other circumstance, make the person’s head spin, make them dizzy. Yet not now. Not today. Not when the product of their and Levi’s love laid in their tired arms, nursing from their bosom. Not when their husband’s worried face came into view finally as the man laid their glasses back onto their sweaty face. Even taking the time to push some of the hair that had stuck to their cheeks and neck away. Levi’s worry, slowly melting into serenity as Hange passed the fruit of their love to him made the person relax even more- completely, in fact, unaware that they could even do such a thing.

And while the words coming from the black haired man before them were still but an amalgam of faint noises, the sound of his voice brought them so much peace. So much so that the pain they were experiencing was nearly nonexistent.

‘’ What shall we name her? Hange? We’ve got the most beautiful princess on our hands..’’

Levi’s words were met with momentary silence as the person laying on the hospital bed tried to think…tried to find a name that would in some way honour the woman that offered them this gem of a husband, this incredibly strong pillar they could lean onto in life.

‘’...Olympia. How about Olympia Kuchel?’’ they asked with a small, warm smile on their pale lips.

And at that, Levi could do nothing more but smile even brighter than he already had been, struggling to contain the tears that tried to come forth.

The hospitalization days passed fast. They tend to do so when one is tired, exhausted even, yet they don't mind. Not one bit, for truth be told Hange was overly excited to start just being a family. A happy family, like perhaps they’d always dreamed they’d be. Resting into the passenger seat of their car, tired eyes fixated on the rearview mirror, adjusted so they’d easily keep an eye on their precious pearl.

‘’She’s not going anywhere, Hange~’’ Levi teased his sweet lover as he drove them home carefully.

His eyes held so much love in them as the man paid close attention to the road ahead.

‘’ I- I know Levi, but she is just so impossibly tiny. She looks like she might slip out of the carrier!’’ They muttered, clearly embarrassed by their behavior. Even blushing slightly!

Once they reached home, Hange wouldn’t let their sweet Olympia out of their sight, not for a moment. Something that yet again caused Levi to lovingly bully them, immediately after making sure to reassure them he was in fact just joking.

And their days would continue to be full of laughter and love, with every little milestone their precious child hit. Oh, the hundreds of pictures Erwin and Miche had to see whenever something even remotely interesting happened regarding the baby. And her first steps? Hange and Levi fawned over Olympia for weeks, simply melting whenever the adorable child pushed herself up and waddled over.

As for when she first said ‘mama’ and ‘dada’? Tears flooded the eyes of the married couple, and tears would keep on coming for about two weeks. Every single time their child called upon one of them, it was a battle holding those loving tears back.

[spnhunter4life]

Familiar Chapter 2

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: little bit of canon typical violence

A/N: This story was originally meant to be a one shot. But then I decided, "You know what? I'm not really happy with this ending. I'll just write one more little chapter to wrap things up." 🙄 Well guess what? If you've been following my work, you know that things always turn out longer than expected. So my 'little' wrap up chapter ended up being kind of long and had to be brought to a stopping point. So here's chapter 2 for you, and you can expect a third chapter as well! That will definitely be the last chapter though (she says with way less confidence than she would like).

Thanks to everyone who has liked, commented on, or reblogged the first chapter! I'm completely blown away by how many notes it's gotten. If you missed the first chapter, read it here!

Summary: Y/N comes back from a walk one day only to realize she can't remember where she was or what she was doing. The new case she and the boys were working must be abandoned in order to recover her memory.

Masterlist

Two months had passed since the shapeshifter hunt, and despite Sam’s encouragement, I still hadn’t said anything to Dean. He was making it extremely difficult for me to ignore my feelings for the older brother the way I always used to. Between his constant pointed looks and making up excuses to leave us alone together, I was about ready to snap.

My dreams about Dean were becoming more frequent too. With thoughts of him almost always on the forefront of my mind, he regularly featured in my dreams. I still had dreams like the one the shapeshifter had taunted me with, but these dreams had branched out into more sweet versions of Dean that left me longing for him even more.

I woke up from one such dream – one where Dean and I were in our very own house, snuggled up together on the couch, a movie playing in the background as we talked – in the back of the Impala. I looked around and saw that we were still on the interstate. We were on our way to Nebraska to check out a new case Sam had found. Four teenagers had shown up dead, all apparently drowned, but their bodies nowhere near water.

“How much further is it?” I asked.

“About 20 miles,” Dean answered.

I sighed and leaned my head against the window. Sam met my eyes in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow in question. I just shook my head. He glanced at Dean and back at me, smiling at the small frown on my face this gesture caused. He was getting annoyingly good at figuring out when I had been dreaming about his brother.

By the time we got to a motel, I was irritated and in need of some time away from both brothers. I told them I was going to walk to the diner we saw about 10 blocks away and bring home food for everybody. It would give me time to clear my head. I really needed to find time to talk to Sam about stopping all the teasing and trying to be supportive. Even though it wasn’t his intention, it was only making things worse.

~~~~~

“There you are!” Dean’s relieved voice greeted me as soon as I walked in the door.

“Seriously, Y/N, what took you so long?” Sam chimed in. “We were getting worried. I think Dean was about ready to start a search party.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, not sure why they were so worked up. “I haven’t been gone that long.”

“It shouldn’t have taken you an hour and a half,” Dean argued. “Where’s the food?” He added almost as an afterthought.

“What food?”

“The whole reason you left was to get food,” Sam told me. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” I answered. Then I thought about it. What had I been doing? I was certain I hadn’t been gone for very long, but then, I realized that all I could remember was the walk back to the motel. “Just walking I guess? I don’t actually remember.”

“How can you not remember?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know!” I yelled, frustrated and confused.

“Ok, well what do you remember?” Sam asked.

“I remember… waking up in the Impala on the drive here. I guess I kind of remember getting to the motel. Other than that… I’ve got nothing.”

“Come here,” Dean said, gesturing for me to walk over to him. 

“Why?” I wondered.

“Just come here.”

I walked over to him and he immediately began feeling around my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for a lump or some other injury,” he said, continuing his search.

“I think I’d know if I hit my head,” I told him, backing out of his reach.

“Apparently you’ve lost your memory. How are you supposed to know what happened?”

“If I’d been hit on the head hard enough for it to affect my memory, don’t you think I’d have a horrible headache at the very least?” I reasoned.

“Point taken. But clearly something happened. We need to figure out what.”

“Let’s just all head towards the diner,” Sam suggested. “We still need to eat, and maybe something on the way will jog Y/N’s memory.”

Nobody had any better ideas and he was right, we did still need to eat. So we went outside and started walking towards the diner. We’d made it six blocks when Sam stopped us. This particular part of town was the area where commercial buildings started being replaced by residential. There were multiple small businesses scattered throughout the neighborhood. Some buildings were obviously both people’s place of work and their home. 

“Do you think you might have gone in there?” He asked, pointing at the music store across the street. Through the window I could see guitars spaced out on the wall, a row of pianos under them. I loved the piano. I grew up taking lessons and badly missed being able to play. It was an easy, surefire way for me to calm down and clear my head, a fact both brothers were aware of.

“You did seem stressed when you left,” Dean agreed. “I’d actually be surprised if you didn’t go in. And that would explain why you were gone for so long.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t explain my memory loss. Think about it. An hour and a half, just gone. What are the odds of me forgetting such a specific chunk of time? Someone had to have done this to me. We need to find out who. And why.”

“I agree. Which is why I think we should go in,” Dean said. “If we’re going to find answers, we need to retrace your steps. We have nothing else to go off of.”

We crossed the street and Sam led the way inside. A little bell above the door announced our arrival. I scanned the room, looking for anything familiar but coming up empty. I walked over to the line of pianos, lightly running my hand along the tops of each one I passed. I stopped at the fourth one in line. A blur of memories raced through my head, but nothing that would help solve my current memory loss problem. 

This piano was very similar to the one I grew up playing. I remembered the hours spent on it, favorite songs learned and played enough times to become annoying to my family. The very same songs forgotten about when they became too easy and a new favorite came along. I placed my hands on the keys and played a few chords.

“Anything?” Dean asked. I just shook my head.

“Oh! You’re back!” Exclaimed a balding man who appeared out of the back room. He was probably in his early 50s and had a very friendly, cheerful demeanor. “You decided to buy this lovely instrument after all?”

“Uh, no. Unfortunately I have nowhere to keep a piano. No, I was just… passing by again and couldn’t resist,” I told him.

“Well, if circumstances ever change, I’d love to help you out!” He said.

I thanked him and placed my hands back on the keys, playing the opening notes to an old favorite song.

“Have you had a lot of business today?” I heard Sam ask.

“No, it’s been pretty slow today. But then, Mondays usually are,” the man answered easily. 

“I figured it must be a slow day when you recognized Y/N so quickly,” Sam said, subtly fishing for information.

“Well she was the only one in the store at the time, but even if there had been 20 other people around, she plays so beautifully I could hardly have missed her.”

The conversation ended there. Or at least, I think it did. I lost myself in the song I was playing, and all other noise faded away. Once finished, I turned around to face the three men. The owner of the store was looking at me with the appreciation of a fellow musician. Sam looked impressed as he always did when he heard me play. Dean… I couldn’t quite read the look on his face. The closest word I could come up with to describe it is awe. But I knew that wasn’t right.

The store owner glanced at his watch and regretfully informed us it was closing time. He thanked us for coming in and I thanked him for letting me play. The three of us exited the store and started walking in the direction of the diner again. 

We stopped in a couple more stores we passed that I might have gone into in an effort to destress. A small little used bookstore that was absolutely packed from wall to wall with books and an antique store, the kind that always reminded me of my history loving father and the countless stores he took me to growing up. Neither of these places sparked any memories either though, and as far as we could tell, I hadn’t stopped inside earlier.

“Well we have some explanation for where you were at least,” Sam said when we’d been seated at the diner.

“Yeah, but we still have no idea what happened to me. How are we supposed to get my memory back when we don’t even know where to start?” 

“I don’t know yet. But we’ll figure it out. We always do,” Sam assured me. This wasn’t much of a comfort to me at the moment, and Dean seemed to realize that.

“We’re going to figure it out, Y/N. I promise. I’d never let anything happen to you. You’re our priority right now. Everything else gets dropped until we figure this out. You’re our new case. Have we ever not solved a case?” He asked.

I smiled, feeling more confident with my situation. He was right. There was nothing we couldn’t solve when we worked together. 

“What’s our next step, then?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Dean admitted. 

“Our next step is going to the motel and getting some sleep,” Sam answered. “It’s getting late and we have no leads. Our best bet is to sleep on it and get a fresh start tomorrow. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and your memories will be back in the morning.”

I didn’t really want to wait. I wanted to solve this now. But I knew Sam was right. We had nowhere to start, and being low on sleep wouldn’t help anybody, so I grudgingly agreed to this plan of action.

~~~~~

When I woke up the next morning, I kept my eyes closed and just laid there for a minute, working up the energy to actually get up. I heard the deep, even breathing of a sleeping person coming from the direction of the beds and the occasional shuffling of paper or clacking of a keyboard from the other side of the room. 

I rolled over so I wasn’t facing the back of the couch and was greeted by a rare sight when I opened my eyes. The unmistakable sounds of research I’d heard were coming not from Sam as I’d assumed, but Dean, up before his brother, the notorious early riser.

“What time is it?” I asked as I sat up. He looked up at me.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted. “It’s… almost seven.”

“And Sam’s still sleeping?” I asked around a yawn. Dean still picked up on the disbelief in my voice.

“I know, right? Lazy ass. Of all days to sleep in.”

I chuckled at his annoyed teasing and went to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. When I stepped back into the room, dressed and teeth brushed, I saw Sam up and rifling through his duffle.

“Hey,” he said. “I don’t suppose you remember anything?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I sighed.

“Ok. Well I guess we should go get some breakfast and discuss next steps.”

“No need,” Dean interjected. “I already came up with our next step while you two were catching up on your beauty sleep.”

“You did?” I asked, surprised.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” He answered. Before he could continue, Sam interrupted. 

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. Couple hours.” He took a drink from a to go cup of coffee that I hadn’t even noticed he had.

Sam glanced at me, the look on his face one that he reserved for times he wanted to say ‘You two are so meant to be together’ but couldn’t say it out loud because Dean was in the room. He had said it to me on more than one occasion when Dean wasn’t around, which is how I know what the look translated to. 

“Anyway,” Dean continued. He picked up a phone book that was laying open beside him. “I found this psychic in town that should be able to help us. I figured we’d stop by her place after breakfast.”

“A psychic? I don’t know, Dean.” The thought made me nervous. Most of the people who advertised themselves as psychics were phonies. And even if this one wasn’t – which I didn’t know how Dean could be sure of – what if she wasn’t able to help? What if she saw something I didn’t want her to see? I’m a pretty private person, and the thought of someone digging around in my head is incredibly unappealing.

“Hear me out,” he insisted. “I’ve done my research, ok? She’s the real deal.”

“How can you be sure?” Sam asked.

“Because. I’ve done my research,” Dean repeated. “Look,” he said, spinning the laptop to face us. It was open to a website for The Amazing Annabelle. “There are dozens of reviews on here, and every one of them says she was able to help. And look at this.”

He slowly scrolled down to the bottom of the page, showing off the dozens of symbols and sigils scattered throughout. A lot of them I recognized as protection from various supernatural beings. There were a lot that I didn’t recognize too. They clearly marked her as knowing about the world of supernatural creatures though. Unless she had just pulled together symbols she thought looked cool in order to give herself an air of authenticity.

“Alright, fine. But a few good reviews and a bunch of symbols used by hunters doesn’t exactly prove that she’s psychic,” Sam argued. I had to agree. I didn’t want to hurt Dean’s feelings since he’d clearly put some time into this and I knew he was just trying to help, but psychics made me nervous. There was no way I would agree to go unless we knew for sure she was legit.

“Yeah, I thought the same thing. Which is why I talked to Bobby,” Dean responded. So this was the reason he was so confident. Bobby was highly respected among the hunter community. If he gave his approval on this Amazing Annabelle, then we really couldn’t doubt her abilities. “He said he’s not super familiar with her, but he has heard of her. She’s good at what she does and someone who can be trusted.”

“Ok,” I agreed. “Breakfast and then a visit to the psychic. I suppose the worst that can happen is she isn’t able to help.”

~~~~~

The first thing I noticed about Annabelle was how… normal she was. With the exception of Missouri, all the other psychics I’d ever seen were dressed in over the top outfits, their places decked out with all sorts of nonsense that was supposedly necessary for them to do their job.

If I’d seen this girl on the street, I would never have guessed what her occupation was. She was about our age and short, standing a full head below my 5’ 6” frame. And she was very pretty. I noticed both Sam and Dean’s immediate appreciation of her beauty. She was wearing white leggings and a purple shirt, her night black hair was in a messy ponytail that suited her very well, and her golden brown skin was flawless.

“What can I do for you?” She asked when she opened the door. Dean cleared his throat before answering.

“I’m Dean. This is Sam and Y/N. We were hoping you could help us with something.”

“I gathered that much,” she smiled. She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Come in.”

We stepped inside and she led us to a room that had an armchair and a comfortable looking couch as well as a round table with four chairs. She sat in the armchair so the three of us settled ourselves on the couch, Sam and Dean on either end and me between them.

“So. What can I help you with?” She asked again. 

“Do you have any experience with trying to recover memories?” I asked.

“Some, yes,” she said. “It really depends on how the memories were lost. Some are easy to find. Some take work, but can still be found with patience. Some, like in the instance of an injury to the brain, can’t be recovered.”

“We don’t actually know what happened. That’s part of what I need to remember. Our assumption is that magic was involved though,” I informed her.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she assured me. “If you’ll come with me?” She stood and moved to the table, gesturing for me to sit across from her. The boys came and stood close by to watch.

“I’ll need some information from you in order to know where to look,” she said. “Give me as much detail as you can about these memories. How long ago was it? How much time are you missing? Is it relating to any specific object or person? Anything you can give me will help.”

“It was yesterday,” Sam explained. “She has an hour and a half chunk of time just missing and we have no clue why.”

“What were you doing when you lost your memory and how did you realize you’d lost it?” 

“I was just walking from our motel to a diner to get some food. I only realized what happened because I couldn’t actually remember why I left the room and I definitely didn’t think I was gone that long.”

“Ok,” she said, taking my hands in hers. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and instructed me to do the same. “I need you to concentrate as hard as you can on the moments from that walk that you can remember.” 

Then she chanted a couple lines of Latin and suddenly I was back on the sidewalk outside the music store. I was walking in the direction of the diner once again when I hit a block. It was like an invisible barrier I couldn’t pass. I tried to go around it and when that didn’t work, turned around to go the other way. No matter what I tried, I was stuck where I was.

And then I was back at the table with Annabelle, Sam and Dean hovering over my shoulders.

“Well?” Dean asked.

“I still don’t remember anything,” I told Annabelle.

“I know. Your memories were definitely blocked using magic. It’s a stronger magic than I was expecting. It’s up to you to decide how important it is that you get them back. If you want to continue, I’m going to have to put you into a trance in order to access them.”

“Is that dangerous?” Dean asked.

“It can be. But only if you don’t have a good anchor,” she answered.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“I’m going to have to send Y/N deep into her subconscious to find answers. Doing this requires an anchor, a tether to reality, someone to bring her back. Otherwise she could be stuck in her own subconscious with no way out."

“That’s not a problem. Both of them would be willing to do that,” I told her.

“I’m sure they would, but your anchor can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone with a very strong emotional connection. Normally I recommend close family members or significant others for this sort of process. I’m assuming they are neither?” 

I hesitated. The answer, of course, was no. But I didn’t see how I couldn’t have a strong enough connection with them for this to work. Living the way we did – being with each other 24/7, trusting each other with our lives – created a very strong bond. Not to mention the way I felt about Dean. But maybe if it was one sided it wouldn’t work. And I wasn’t about to say that Dean was the safer bet because I felt our connection was stronger.

“Dean can do it,” Sam announced.

Dean and I both whipped our heads to look at him. I was sure the shock, irritation, and minor panic I could see on Dean’s face was mirrored on my own. I knew we were panicking for entirely different reasons though. For Dean it was worry that he wouldn’t be a strong enough connection for me. He didn’t want to risk me not coming back. For me it was worry that Sam was going to rat me out. And boy would we have words if he did.

“What?” He snapped at the death glares we were both now fixing on him. “You know it’s true. You’ve known Dean longer than you’ve known me. You two get along so well and know each other so well that if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’d known each other your entire lives. I promise your emotional connection is more than strong enough to handle this. And I swear if either one of you tries to deny how close you are right now, I will not hesitate to punch you.”

I looked at Dean at the same moment he looked at me. There was uncertainty in his eyes, but his jaw and shoulders were set in determination.

“I can leave you alone to discuss it if you’d like,” Annabelle offered.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Dean said. “It’s up to you of course – you’re the one taking the risk – but I’ll do my best to bring you back if you’re willing to trust me to do it. Otherwise we can try to find another way.”

“Of course I trust you. That’s not even a question,” I told him.

He watched me for a minute, weighing the sincerity of my words.

“Ok,” he said. “What do you need us to do?”

Annabelle stood up and moved to a shelf full of drawers on the edge of the room, opening different ones and pulling things out as she explained.

“As I already said, I’ll be putting Y/N into a deep trance. The magic is blocking your memories on a conscious level. Sending you into your subconscious will allow you to access them, but only while you’re in the trance. Once you’re awake, you’ll forget everything again.”

“Then how does this help us?” Sam asked.

Annabelle set everything she’d grabbed down on the table and then opened a cabinet underneath, grabbing a clear glass ball and setting it in the middle of the table.

“It helps, because you and I will be able to see everything she’s seeing while she’s in the trance.”

“What about me?” Dean asked.

“Since you’re the anchor, you’ll be inside her head too. You’ll be able to see and hear everything. Sam and I will only be able to see, so you’ll need to pay particular attention to things you hear as you’ll be the only one who knows those details.”

She began combining her ingredients, crushing leaves and mixing together powders and liquids.

“While she’s out, I need the two of you to be absolutely silent,” she told Sam and Dean. “You’ll both be fully aware of the noises happening around you. It could be tricky getting to the hidden memories, and distractions won’t help. Once we’ve found the information you’re looking for, we’ll need your anchor. At that point I need Dean – and only Dean – to start talking to her.”

She now had a liquidy brown paste in front of her. She dipped her finger into it and began drawing symbols on my forehead.

“It doesn’t matter what you say. Your voice, as well as your physical connection, will lead her back into consciousness.”

“Our physical connection?” I asked.

“Yes. You’ll need to be holding hands during this,” she said. Done with my forehead, she quickly drew an intricate swirling knot on the palm of each of my hands. She drew the same design on both of Dean’s palms and then worked on his forehead as well. I assumed the design was identical to mine. “Dean, if you’ll sit across from her, we can get started.”

She sat in one of the two empty chairs and gestured for Sam to sit in the last one. 

“Alright. I need you to tell me everything you can remember from the time just before your memories disappeared. Once you’re under, you won’t be able to talk to me. The more details I have, the easier I can guide you to the missing time.”

“I already told you what I remember.”

“No. I need more. Tell me exactly what the last thing you remember is. Is it walking out the door? Did you get a ways before you forgot? What were you thinking? What were you feeling? What could you see, hear, smell? Give me everything you can remember.”

“Well… I don’t remember leaving the room. I kind of remember getting to the motel, but that’s a little hazy. I guess the clearest memory I have is waking up in the Impala about 15 minutes before we got to town.”

“Ok. Let’s start with that then. What details can you give me about that?” She prompted.

“I don’t know. Not much. We were in the car. On the interstate. Dean had Metallica playing. I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say,” I told her. If this is what it took to get my memories back then I was screwed. Coming up with little details from hazy memories wasn’t exactly easy.

“That’s ok. Don’t worry. How about how you were feeling? Can you remember that?”

I’d just had a dream about Dean. So a big mix of emotions. Happy, sad, longing, irritation. Irritation. Yeah. I definitely remembered being annoyed when we got to the motel.

“I was annoyed. When we got to the motel. I remember being annoyed. I imagine it’s why I left to get the food. And Dean said I seemed stressed.”

“Great!” Annabelle praised. “What else? Do you know why you were annoyed?”

“Um…” How to answer that truthfully but without giving anything away. I looked between Sam and Dean and remembered how Sam had picked up on what I’d dreamt about and silently teased me about it. “Just an argument with Sam.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“What argument?” Dean interjected. “You guys didn’t even talk to each other.” 

“No, but just because we’re not as close as you two are doesn’t mean we can’t communicate without having to say anything,” Sam said.

Dean looked shocked. No doubt he was wondering how often we’d had these silent conversations. Little did he know, they were always about him.

“Ok. Anything else you can give me?” Annabelle asked.

“I know I went into a music store and stopped to play one of the pianos. I don’t actually remember doing it though. Sorry, that’s all I’ve got.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got enough to work with. Remember, I need the two of you to stay quiet,” she told Sam and Dean. They both confirmed that they would. “Ok. Dean and Y/N, take each other’s hands and close your eyes.” 

She waited for us to follow her instruction before continuing. A stream of Latin, different from the first time, fell from her lips and I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into my subconscious. It felt a little like drifting off to sleep, so gradual that you’re somehow both aware and unaware of it at the same time.

~~~~~

Dean’s POV

As Annabelle’s chanting trailed off, a picture of my surroundings slowly began to take shape. I recognized it immediately. It was the inside of the Impala – from Y/N’s perspective. She was in the passenger side backseat, her usual place.

“Can you hear me Y/N?” Annabelle asked in a calm, soothing tone. “If you can hear me, I want you to get out of the car.”

I watched as my hand – No. Not mine. Y/N’s – reached for the handle and then she swung her legs out and stood up.

“Great. I’ll do my best to guide you to your forgotten memories, but this is mostly on you. If you seem stuck, I’ll help you figure out where to go, but otherwise I’ll stay quiet and let you figure things out for yourself. Now I need you to focus for me. I need you to think about the motel.”

The background around us flashed through a series of images. Different motels we’d stayed at over the years.

“The motel you’re staying at now,” Annabelle clarified. “The one you got to last night.” 

The flashing images slowed and came to rest on one. 

“That’s good, Y/N. Now I need you to focus on your emotions from last night. You got to the motel and were annoyed with Sam because you’d just had an argument.”

Y/N’s mind flashed back to the backseat of the Impala, Metallica’s Fade to Black playing through the speakers. She was looking at Sam in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows raised. I could tell by the view shifting back and forth that she was shaking her head. Sam looked quickly at me and then back to her, smiling. And then, memory over, we were back outside the motel. 

That’s it? That was their argument? No wonder I’d missed it. What did it even mean? I caught myself just before I actually asked these questions out loud, remembering Annabelle’s instruction to stay silent.

“You wanted to take a walk, so you offered to go get food for everyone,” Annabelle continued. I watched this memory version of Y/N walk out the door. “You stopped at a music store along the way. Did you stop anywhere else?”

We all sat in silence as we watched Y/N walk for several blocks, never stopping. She looked around as she walked, frequently turning her head to look at different things. I remembered Annabelle telling me I would be the only one with access to the sounds in her memory and started paying attention. I heard the chirping of birds, the occasional car driving by, a bell ringing inside a store as someone opened the door. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Y/N walked past a group of teenagers and I listened in to their conversation. They were discussing the loss of their friends. The information I got from them was useless as far as Y/N was concerned, but I memorized their faces so we could question them once we’d helped Y/N and were ready to work the case we actually came here for.

She walked for another block and then stopped outside the music store. She stopped for a moment to look at it, and the world around me disappeared as she relived a different memory. I saw a child’s hands on the keys of a piano. I heard the music being played, a simple melody of Jingle Bells that the child was singing along to. I heard a grown man singing with her. The song ended and she looked up into the smiling face of the man I knew to be her father.

She crossed the street and walked into the store, heading straight for the pianos and trailing her fingers over them as she walked by, much as she had her second time through with me and Sam. She stopped at the same piano she did with us. Having seen the childhood memory, I now understood the draw to this particular instrument. 

I listened as she played a complex set of chords that transitioned into a haunting melody. I was entranced, as I always was when she played. It was clear it was something she deeply enjoyed and missed. I was startled as Annabelle’s voice cut in over the music.

“What did you do next? What happened when you were done playing?” She asked. I suppose this part of the memory would be particularly boring to her and Sam, who couldn’t hear what I could. Not to mention it wasn’t exactly helping us find out what happened. We did need to keep moving, I supposed.

The memory jumped to the last few notes of what had to be a different song entirely. Then Y/N turned around and saw the store owner standing there, listening intently.

“You’re a wonderful pianist,” he told her. 

“Oh, that? I was just messing around,” she mumbled at the compliment. 

I listened closely to their conversation. While he was pretty low down on my suspect list, he was also technically the only person on that list as he was the only person we knew to have interacted with her. Nothing sparked my suspicions though.

He continued to praise her abilities, she continued to brush them aside, and he asked if she had any interest in buying the piano she’d been playing. 

“I would be very happy to sell it to you,” he told her. “It’s not often I get to sell an instrument with the confidence it will be used and well loved.”

She politely turned down his offer and then told him she needed to be going, that her friends were expecting her to be back soon.

She left the store and continued her walk. Although I couldn’t actually feel her emotions, I could tell that playing had calmed her down significantly. There was just something about the way the world looked to her now.

She made it another half a block before she stopped. I could discern no reason for this. She simply stopped walking. After a few minutes it became apparent that something wasn’t right.

“This is where you got stuck the first time we tried finding your memories, isn’t it?” I heard Annabelle ask. “Whatever happened to block your memories, this is where it happened. The magic is still putting up a fight. I need you to push back. It can’t stop you from seeing. It’s all in your head that you can’t go any further. Just keep walking.”

We all waited for a couple minutes as she struggled with pushing past whatever spell was holding her in place. 

“You can do it,” Annabelle encouraged. “You’re stronger than the magic is, I promise. Keep walking.”

Another minute passed and I knew she was winning because noises – which I hadn’t even realized had disappeared – started filtering through. It was like hearing something from underwater. Muffled, hard to make out, but definitely there. Then, all at once I could hear voices clearly and we were moving forward again.

I heard the sounds of a struggle coming from the alley in front of her. She quickly walked to it and then slowed to a stop just outside, listening. There was the unmistakable sound of chanting and underneath it, gurgling. 

“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. She reached into her boot to grab the silver knife she always had with her. “Wish I had my gun right about now.”

She peeked her head around and saw a teenage boy standing over another one. An endless stream of water was spewing out of the lips of the boy on the ground and he was choking on it. The chanting boy was facing her. The second she stepped into the alley she’d be spotted. But the drowning boy didn’t have time for her to find a better plan of attack.

She rushed in and the boy stopped his chanting when he saw her. He started a different chant, just a few words, and then he raised his arm, flinging her into the building beside her. The knife she’d been holding went flying out of her hand. I desperately wanted to run to help her, to make sure she was ok or to kill that boy. I didn’t know which desire was stronger, but I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. This was a memory. It was all in the past and I couldn’t change it now. I just had to watch and learn what I could. That’s how I would help her. Because now we had his face and we could track him down.

Hand still stretched out to hold her in place, he looked back to his original target, now desperately gasping for breath. He continued his chanting, and the poor boy on the ground only lasted a few more moments.

“Why are you doing this?” Y/N asked him. “What could he possibly have done to you to deserve that?”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” the boy snapped at her. “No one does.”

He started marching in her direction.

“You should have left it alone,” he snarled. “If you’d just kept walking, everything would be fine. But now you’ve seen too much. And you have to go too.”

He started up his chanting again, directing it at Y/N this time. I could hear water falling from her mouth and hitting the ground. I could hear the sound of her gurgling and choking. I couldn’t bear it. How had she gotten out of this?

“Thomas!” A sharp female voice called from the other end of the alley.

The chanting stopped as the boy looked in the direction of the voice. Y/N immediately started coughing the water out of her lungs and gasping for breath. She looked at the person who had spoken. She was a woman in her late 40s or early 50s at a guess and she was fuming.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked as she smacked him over the head. “Don’t you think you’ve left enough bodies behind? Do you want to attract the attention of a hunter?”

“She saw me! What was I supposed to do?” He protested.

“You were supposed to have not killed another person to begin with! We talked about this! I’ve covered your messes your whole life, but I can’t hide murdered teenagers. Especially when you’re as sloppy about it as you’ve been and especially when you don’t even tell me about it!”

The boy hung his head in shame. But not guilt. Apparently he’d been raised to do a better job of hiding his crimes. Witches. I hated them.

“Well I have to kill her now. She’s seen too much,” Thomas argued.

“No. We’re already far too at risk of hunters coming to town. You can’t add another person to the body count. Especially so close to your father’s store. Do you want him to find out it's you killing people? About the fact magic is real, and you use it? No. We’ll erase her memory and send her on her way. She won’t be a problem.”

The witch grabbed an already made hex bag out of her purse and placed it in Y/N’s immobilized hand, forcing her fingers to close around it. I knew that she would have been fighting to get free, but since she was completely stuck there were no visible indications of this. I had been in that position more than once and knew the frustration of being unable to move.

The boy’s mother started up her own chanting and the memory we were in started fading to black. It continued with Y/N standing just outside the music store. She seemed confused at first, looking around as if trying to get her bearings. Then she turned and headed back in the direction of the motel, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

“Ok,” Annabelle said. I’d forgotten she was even there. “It’s time to bring her back. Go ahead and talk to her, Dean.”

At the mention of my name, I saw my face flash through her mind. I was sitting beside her on a couch and smiling. I didn’t remember this particular day. It could have been on any given day at any random motel. 

I wasn’t really sure what to say, and just babbling whatever words came into my head seemed silly, but getting her back was more important than my discomfort.

“Y/N,” I said, pausing to think of my next words. The memory in her head changed. Now, rather than seeing from her perspective, I was in an outsider’s point of view. And I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. “What the hell is that?” I gasped out. 

With a mix of excitement, shock, and confusion, I watched a guy who looked remarkably like me – although it couldn’t have been because I knew this had never happened before – lift Y/N in the air, spin her around a couple of times, and then set her back on her feet before leaning down to kiss her.

“I thought we were in her memories,” I said.

“You are,” Annabelle answered.

“No we’re not. We can’t be. That never happened.” 

“Then it must be a memory of a dream. Focus, Dean,” Annabelle instructed. “Be her anchor. Bring her back.”

I tried to concentrate on my job, but all I could see was the image of us kissing playing over and over in my head. 

“Can you please think of something else?” I practically begged her.

I was grateful when the memory – or whatever it was – flickered and changed into something else. Only this was no better. We were kissing again, only this time sitting on a very nice couch in a very nice room. It changed again. Sitting in the front seat of the Impala together, just the two of us. Kissing. Another change. I had Y/N pressed up against a wall. We were really kissing in this one.

It changed again and I breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d pulled up a random memory of her in one of her college classes, back before she quit school.

“Ok,” I breathed out and then cleared my throat. “Ok.” If I thought I didn’t know what to say before, I was really stuck now. What was I supposed to say to her after seeing all of that?

“Ok,” I said yet again. “You need to come back now. You have to find your way back. Sam and I are waiting for you.”

“It’s not going to work,” Annabelle said. “She’s trying too hard to keep her memories in control to focus on finding her way out of the trance. Y/N, don’t worry about what memories surface during this. Your only job is to come out of it. Listen to Dean and don’t worry about anything else. And Dean. Don’t worry about finding the right words. Say whatever comes naturally. That’s what she needs.”

Say what comes naturally. This would be a lot easier if I didn’t know Sam was listening to my every word. But Y/N was counting on me. I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

I said her name again. The memory of the classroom flickered to one of me in the driver’s seat of the Impala, singing along to Led Zeppelin. Y/N was in the back, singing with me and Sam was smiling in the passenger seat, refusing to join in.

“If I’m being honest with you, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say right now. But you trusted me to get you out of this and I’ll be damned if I let you down. So I need you to do your part too. Find your way out of this. Come back to us.”

Memories flashed by as she searched for a way back into consciousness. I saw memories of real things, memories I shared. Us in the car, in motel rooms, on hunts. Her patching up a knife wound on my bicep, me holding her close and carrying her after her run in with that shapeshifter. There were more memories of things I didn’t recognize too. More dreams, I suppose. Us out on what could only be interpreted as a date. Us curled up together in bed, talking. Us dancing together in an empty parking lot, a slow song playing from Baby’s speakers. And more dreams of us kissing in various scenarios.

It would have been so easy to get lost in all of these memories, in seeing myself the way she saw me. And in wondering how she could apparently dream about me so much, apparently have feelings for me, without me ever knowing. But I made myself focus on being her anchor.

“Do you know how glad I am that you’re a part of my life? I sometimes wonder how I ever managed without you. And you know you can’t leave me and Sam on our own. We wouldn’t last without you. We’d probably kill each other.”

I watched as the countless swirling memories of us switched to ones of me and Sam. She remembered more than one instance that proved me wrong. She thought about all the times Sam and I had leaned on each other and kept the other going. She was essentially telling me that while she appreciated the sentiment, she knew we’d be fine without her.

“Alright, fine,” I said. “Maybe we’d get by fine on our own. That doesn’t mean either of us want to. You’re too important to us. So come back to us,” I repeated. 

She seemed to be flipping through her memories, as if looking for the right one to bring her back.

“Come back to me.”

I became the focus again, a memory of me standing outside on a bright sunny day and laughing at something she’d said flitting into her mind. But she pushed it away to start looking again.

“Don’t worry about the memories, remember?” I told her. “Just focus on me. Listen to my voice. Try to feel my hands,” I encouraged her. Different memories floated by again, pulled up at random by my words, or maybe the tone of my voice. I didn’t know. They almost all circled around just the two of us though. More dreams of us kissing flashed by.

The shock I felt at these images was lessening and I was beginning to be more comfortable with them. So, following Annabelle’s advice, I let myself respond naturally. I let go of the tight leash I usually kept on my natural inclination to flirt. It wasn’t something I’d ever done with her, not wanting to scare her away. If only I’d known how she really felt.

“You know,” I drawled, wishing I could flash her a smile. “If you wanted to kiss me so badly, you only had to say something. We can definitely do something about that. But only if you come back to me.”

There was a rush of memories flipping by so quickly I couldn’t make anything out in any of them. Then everything went black and I became aware of my own body again. I tentatively opened my eyes and saw Y/N sitting across from me, Sam and Annabelle on either side of us. 

I smiled a little. I wanted to know if she’d found her way out so suddenly out of embarrassment and a desire to escape or excitement and anticipation. 

“Don’t forget, she won’t remember any of what just happened,” Annabelle warned me. 

“I know,” I said. That wasn’t a problem. It was a lot easier to take a shot when you could see clearly. And I could finally see everything.

Chapter 3

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[zaynmirrors]

Fire on Fire: Part 20

A/N: Getting close to the end guys! Does anyone have any ideas for another series or blurbs? Open to suggestions.

Chapter 20

10k stayed in and out of consciousness, so much to the point I was starting to worry. Eventually, by luck, we met up with Warren and the others. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this” Warren spoke, glancing back at me in the rearview mirror. 

I shook my head, “All good” though I’m not sure it was. 

“How’s your little girl?” She smiled fondly at the memory of her. 

A small smile tugged on my lips, “She’s good, talking, being a menace” which earned a chuckle from Warren. 

“Where is your daughter now?” Hector, who I managed to learn they had beef with for a while but was now on our side. 

I winced, “it’s a long story, but she's with this couple that took us in. Very fortified place”

Hector nodded and mumbled something about that being nice as Doctor Sun Mei glanced back at 10k who slept, she said nothing but looked skeptical. 

“What can you tell us about Murphy town?” Warren asked. 

I shook my head. “Not much, there’s a lot of security, a zombie moat, and these people just listen to him”

“Now that’s odd” Warren grunted, I nodded. 

“That’s all I got before he knocked me out” I stated 

Hector raised an eyebrow “knocked you out?”

I nodded, “yeah, woke up in a psych ward, that’s how I met up with doc and 10k”

“Oh you’re gonna wanna hear this!” Doc piped up and went on to tell the whole story, I snorted, laughing at some of the funny parts. 

“Sounds like you guys have been up to quite a bit” Addy pipes up. I nod. The ride continued swapping stories of zombies, family before, and just what we wish the world was now. 

Warren pulled to a stop at a lookout that gave us a good view of Murphy's little village. If it came to a fight I don't know if I'd be able to go down swinging. I promised I'd make it back to Em. 

I sighed quietly, taking a look at 10k who was still passed out. Good, sleep it off. The more time I have to plan out this conversation the better. 

Warren decided to set up camp here, so we sat around a low-burning fire eating beans Maggie packed for me. I stood taking what was left of my bowl over to the opened trunk of the car where 10k lay. Though instead of asleep, his eyes were open staring at the roof of the car. His head turned my way. Fuck. 

“How long have you been here?” He asked, voice still groggy from sleep, or drugs, or Murphy, hell maybe a combo. 

I took a breath, “been here a while” he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the trunk. 

He looked at the bowl in my hand and then back up to my face. “Come to really put a knife in my chest?” He deadpanned. 

No emotion was shown in his eyes, I glanced over to see if anyone was listening, if they were they were doing a good job hiding it. 

“I came to apologize, and save your ass” I offered up the bowl of beans, he crossed his arms over his chest in rejection so I set it on the edge of the trunk beside him. 

He stayed silent, either not wanting to listen or telling me to continue. Regardless I continued. “I was selfish, I chose Emma over you and the mission and I’m sorry.”

He loosened the tightness of his arms but his face remained stoic so I just went on, “Every waking moment I think about you, about us. fuck you’re in my dreams too. I was stupid and you can hate me all you want, I deserve it.” 

He remained silent, as tears threatened to spill. Heat ran its way up from my cheeks to the tops of my ears. I could tell he was in contemplation, I knew him all too well. “I would’ve gone with you,” he said, firm and truthful. “You could’ve just said something, everything could’ve been okay. All you had to do was just fucking say something!” His fist hit the carpet inside but still made a loud enough noise that made me jump. 

He went on, “The little savior act isn’t going to fix things. I should’ve known you would’ve picked that thing over me. I was happier thinking you were dead” 

I couldn’t stop the tear that fell down my cheek but I wasn’t about to cry in earshot of everyone else. I simply nodded and walked away, noticing we had gathered an audience. 

My feet carried me past the group, ignoring Warren calling out for me. This is exactly how I figured it would go. I should’ve just stayed at the farm. Crawling into one of the tents we set up, I laid on the sleeping bag and sobbed, Not caring about anyone hearing me. 

I sobbed, knowing you fucked up was one guilt but hearing it was a whole other level. I almost hadn’t heard Addy enter the tent. “Y/N, you wanna talk?”

Shaking my head earned a sigh from her, then some rustling and a sudden warmth at my back. I didn’t stray from her touch when she wrapped around me.

Addy rested her nose on the top of my head. A hand in my hair, rubbing in soothing circles. “I don’t think he means what he said,” she said lowly. So they had heard. 

I shook my head but she just shushed me, “Give him time, it’s obvious he’s not in the right mind at the moment”. It didn’t matter to me, somewhere deep in his mind he meant that. She held me, soothing me as I cried. Even as I fell asleep. 

That morning I woke alone, not that it bothered me. I was becoming used to waking up alone. I didn’t want to leave the safety of the tent. Leaving meant facing the group. Facing 10k. I couldn’t do that, though there wasn’t much choice in that matter. I’d have to leave eventually. 

Before I could even think about getting up Warren made her way into the tent, biscuit in hand which she offered out to me. I took it with a small smile. 

“He ran off” was all she said, I knew though. I just nodded and so she continued “We’re gonna fight, it'll be messy. I know you got that little girl to take care of so if you wanted to leave” Did I want to leave? I felt indifferent about fighting.

“If you find yourselves out our way, stop by,” I said, she nodded. I’m sure she knew what my choice was going to be. I told her how to find us, “when 10K gets fixed-“

She smiled, “I’ll send him your way, give that little girl a hug for me” I nodded and smiled, turning on my heel to face the tent. 

I didn’t waste time gathering my stuff. When I was done, I went to say my goodbyes but saw Addie talking to Warren who held a sullen expression on her face. 

Doc grabbed my attention as he said “I hate to see you go again” I turned to look at him. 

“I know, I want to stay and make sure he’s okay but I can’t.” He held his hand up as if he understood, “If I would’ve just stayed-“

“Hey, don’t. None of us could’ve known that Murphy was going to do that.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Murphy set that whole thing up, he knew what he was doing, it wasn’t your fault”

It was like everything clicked together, he truly had planned it all out. Fucker. He deserves everything that’s coming. “You bring him home to me,” I said, pulling Doc into a tight hug.

“We’ll be right behind you kiddo,” he said into my hair, slowly loosening his hold on me. With that, I left. 

Chapter 21

Taglist:

@whenmypartysover @multifandomlesbianic @isimpfordanielpark

@ophelia-nightt @peezbabey @lizzardgreene @lizx13 @nohemi2500

@missricecrispy @nightowlgirl

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells (Flash) Soldier- Chapter 16

“Let me get this straight, you had a wet dream about Harrison Wells. Like the Harrison Wells.”

“Say it louder for the people in the back, Iris. I don’t think they heard.” You reply sarcastically.

Luckily, you were in her office.

“This is a surprise. I mean I get why you would crush on him. The whole boss-employee thing is the biggest troupe out there. But the fact that he’s actually a pretty decent guy helps. I fully approve.”

“What do you mean you approve! I’m not trying to date him. It was one stupid dream. I just let my guard down because I was drunk. That’s it.”

“I mean, if you think about it, you’re not exactly putting yourself out there. It was only a matter of time. Our bodies really are more honest.”

“You’re not helping.”

She’s still smiling.

“What’s so wrong about giving it a shot? I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Your body becomes tense.

“Oh, you thought I wouldn’t notice. I’m a detective. I’m trained to read body language. That day in the office when you realized he was in danger you went full on attack mode. I know there were a lot more people in danger, so your reaction was expected. But the way you looked at him it was..it was different.”

You stand abruptly.

“I have to get to work. I’ll talk to you later. “

Iris sighs.

“You can’t run from this forever. Please just..just consider it. Maybe you might actually be happy.”

“I am happy.”

That’s the last thing you say before you exit her office.

“That was no help.” You were hoping Iris would be the voice of reason. Instead she’d actually encouraged you to pursue it.

“Crazy.”

She was absolutely crazy. There was no way you could do that.

Driving back to Star Labs feels like too short a trip. When you pull your car around, your eyes glance at something in your rearview mirror. When you turn, the person you thought you’d just seen is gone.

“It couldn’t be..”

Justin Hainley was in prison.

“Damn it.”

You were really losing your edge. It might have something to do with the lack of sleep after that heated dream. The following day you were almost scared to fall asleep. You were a little worried that you might have an encore and the last thing you needed was to imagine your boss having his way with you.

“I wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant.”

You close your eyes, taking a breath to banish the image.

You take a moment to gather your wits, then head up to the office. The good thing is you've gotten very good at compartmentalizing. Letting something as foolish as a dream rule your actions was immature. You meet Allison in the hallway.

“Good morning.” She looks pretty chipper, so you have to ask.

“Plans with your hubby?”

She smiles shyly.

“It’s our anniversary. He refuses to tell me where he’s taking me. But it’s always something special. “

“That’s nice.”

Allison nods, then slows her pace to look at you.

“When we met I assumed you’d be unapproachable. But I was wrong. You’re very easy to talk to. Despite your constant monotone speech.”

“That felt like a compliment and an insult all wrapped up in one.”

“It might have been.” She smiles, and you open the door as she steps in. You follow.

“Good morning Dr. Wells.”

She’s already in work mode. She goes through his meetings and other updates that he needs to attend to. You just stand at the side. You don’t miss the fleeting glances he sends your way every now and then.

“Please set up a meeting with the Chairman immediately.” Harrison states. Allison nods, taking off.

“I’ll be back with the plans for the extension on the fifth floor. Please excuse me.” 

She’s gone with the clicking of heels. You adjust your sleeves. Harrison is still working on the documents in front of him, but he looks stiff.

“Why are you so unnerved? Is there something I should be aware of?”

Harrison tenses.

“I suppose it’s stupid to try and get anything past you.”

“Incredibly stupid.”

He lets out a short laugh.

“I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I basically held you hostage at my house. I got you wasted and then you still had to carry me up the stairs. Not my finest moment. “

“If you want to apologize for anything, it should be your lack of tolerance. You were buzzed after two drinks. “

“In my defense the alcoholic content was higher than most.”

“I survived it.” You say smugly.

“As I recall, your tolerance is through the roof.”

His statement makes you straighten.

“You remember that?”

He nods, opening a folder as he begins browsing through it.

“I remember quite a lot.”

You were really hoping he forgot that.

The look he sends you seems to mirror what you’d seen in your dreams. You shift in place.

“Please be more conscious of your drinking. “

That’s all you say, and he sends a little smile before he goes back to work. Your chest drops as you exhale discreetly.

It’s going to be a trying day. 

[j4xotto]

Despite what people might think, Valentine’s Day was actually one of Jax’s favourite days of the year. He loved all the cheesy conventions of the holiday, the string of romcoms he could always count to be on at the movies, the candy chocolate hearts, and even the sight of red roses lining every street corner in NYC, the price dropping the closer it got to February fourteenth. The fact that he wasn’t able to love his significant other openly never dampened his enthusiasm for the holiday. Sure, it stung a little that he couldn’t join in on the Instagram posts and parade his loved one in front of the world, but it never stopped him from splashing out on an armful of roses for his loved ones, whether that be his Mum or Annie.

Guilt washed over him as he thought of Annie, who’d been keeping him at arms length ever since the revelation he’d been spending their favourite holiday with another girl. No matter where Jax was in the world, he had always made a point of coming home to Annie so that he could spoil her rotten. They’d spend the holiday curled up under blankets, watching When Harry Met Sally, or his best friend would put on her prettiest red dress and he’d take her out. Jax knew, perhaps more than most, just how lonely Annie could get, and this time of year only seemed to exasperate it. Her Dad adored her but also sheltered her, which meant dating was generally a no-go. And because Annie was one of the most beautiful people he knew, inside and out, he never for a second wanted her to be lonely.

Scrolling through his Instagram, he was relieved, and a little tickled, to see Elias’ face plastered all over Annie’s feed, as well as her story. It alleviated a little bit of pressure on his chest to know Annie wasn’t alone.

“Didn’t think he had it in him.” Jax mumbled, his thumb double-tapping over Eli’s face. Although, if he knew Annie, he could almost be certain she had been the one to make the first move. Either way, he was sure Eli was over the moon to have the girl of his dreams on his arm.

“What was that?”

Lifting his head, Jax noticed his uber driver had his eyes trained on him in the rearview mirror, having mistaken Jax’s words as meant for him. The man flushed a little in embarrassment, shaking his head as his driver moved his eyes back to the road.

“Just talking to myself, sorry.” Jax apologised in his soft, Australian lilt. Running his clammy hands over the fabric of his jeans, Jax thought about Sephy. Lovely, agreeable, funny Sephy, who’d said she\d spend the day with him despite the fact he was certain she could have any man, any man at all as her Valentine. And why was he nervous? It would be funny, if it weren’t so pitiful, that the one Valentine he got to show off happened to be a woman he wasn’t even really dating.

For about the fourth time in their short drive, Jax felt the other man’s eyes on him.

“Sorry to ask, man. You look so familiar to me, are you Jax Otto?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

A high, nervous laugh fell from Jax’s lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets, fumbling around for his phone. Not for the first time, Jax wondered exactly what had given him away. Sometimes it was that people couldn’t recognise Jax outside of his race suit, outside of the car, even. Other times people heard the accent, the dark crop of hair, the too-nice clothes and made the connection, much to Jax’s dismay.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.” Jax stated, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. As Jax grew more nervous, however, the man behind the wheel grew even more animated.

“Oh, man! I can’t believe I’m driving Jax Otto, wait till my wife finds out - she loves you, Jax, just loves you.”

The city whooshed by as Jax nodded good-naturedly, tapping out a text to Sephy to let her know he wasn’t far now.

“Tell your Mrs I say hi then, won’t you?” Jax said, leaning forward to clap his driver on the shoulder. “Can you just pull over here? This is me.”

The uber screeched to a sudden stop outside of Sephy’s Brownstone. The whole thing was so new that Jax and Sephy had never stepped into one another’s apartments, the man was half afraid he’d get lost on the way there. Jax looked down his phone, as though to make sure this was the right address. He had half a mind to step out onto the street, walk up those steps and call for her himself.

“Jax, man, is that your girl?”

Lifting his head, Jax was filled with a sudden quiet reassurance at the blonde head of hair ducking out from behind the door. A small, pleased smile crossed his features as his hand found the car door handle, spilling out onto the street to greet her.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

[clockwork-fayz]

You’ll Ask For My Forgiveness (But You’ve Had It All Along)

A little Gastina Song Fic, for the song “Five Years From Now” by Taylor Thomas. If you don’t think this song just screams Gastina scenario, idk what to tell you. 

Find it on AO3

Five years from now, let me set up scene

I'll call you up and you'll say it's good to hear from me

“Nina?”

Her hand shaking, she took a deep breath. 

“Sí. Hola, Gastón…how are you?”

“Nina. Hi. I’m fine…I am good. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. I’m moved back to town and I saw online that you moved back a little bit ago as well. I was wondering if maybe, well maybe you would want to meet up and catch up?”

She didn’t tell him that she had known he had moved a year ago and had been keeping tabs on his profile since. She didn’t tell him how she meticulously planned on how she was going to see him again, and if it weren’t for pushing from her friends and the new anxiety medicine she was on, she wouldn’t have had the courage to call him. She didn’t tell him that she had spent nights dreaming about what it would be like seeing him again. 

“I would love that, Nina, it’s been what? Five years?”

“Yeah. I think about five years.”

She knew it had been five years. 

“I am so glad you called Nina. It’s good to hear from you.”

He said her name for the fourth time so far in the sixty second conversation. Not that she was counting, but everytime he said it sent a volt of electricity to her heart. 

I'll ask if we can meet at the café by your house

You'll say, "You know I don't like coffee"

I'll say, "I thought you might by now"

You'll suggest that since we're older let's go out for drinks

And I'll make a joke that this is the first time you've paid for me

“Do you want to meet for coffee? We could go to that café that’s near your parent’s house.” 

“We could do that, but you know I don’t like coffee,” Gastón laughed. Nina found herself smiling into the phone, his laugh bringing back  memories of 1950’s comedies and skating in the park. 

“I thought you might by now. You know three out of four adults drink it daily.”

“Well I am that fourth person, I will never grow out of orange juice. However, since we are older, I do like a good beer. Do you want to meet for drinks at the bar down on 6th? I’ll buy.”

“Sure, I have been there a couple of times. It’s nice.” Then she added “Especially if you are paying. There is a first time for everything I suppose.”

She could feel the smile in Gastón’s voice.

“I am pretty sure I paid for most of your drinks at the Jam & Roller. But okay. How does 8 sound?”

I'll arrive at the bar, you'll be waiting in your car

You'll get out and I'll run to you, straight to your arms

I can feel your heart racing but I won't say a thing

'Cause mine is doing the same just like it did when I was 18

She arrived in the parking lot at 7:55 and was surprised to see that Gastón’s car was already in the parking lot. He had always been notorious for being late to everything. She pulled into a spot opposite of him, turning her key to shut off the engine. Then she spotted him in her rearview mirror. 

A strangled noise came out. There he was, getting out of his car, wearing worn blue jeans, a red polo and shoes to match. She was afraid he would no longer look like her Gastón, but it was still him. The same face, the same warm brown eyes, the same walk. She could have stayed there, watching him in the tiny mirror, but he was heading towards her car and she forced herself to move.

He stopped in his tracks as she got out.  She shut the door and their eyes met. 

He smiled.

She ran. 

He caught her as she threw her arms around his neck. She breathed in the moment; how he smelled almost the same but with a hint of something new, how his arms were wrapped around her back, squeezing her gently, and how his heart was racing. 

But she wasn’t going to say anything about that. 

Because she knew hers was also beating out of her chest, just like it did when she was 18 and in love. 

“Nina.”

“Hi Gastón.”

Once we get past the awkward how are yous

You'll say you've been dying to know where I went to

I'll say that I've been working on my music in LA

But I won't tell you that my songs are still about you to this day

“How have you been?” he asks her. She shifted uncomfortably in the hard high top chair. She was dreading this part, the awkwardness that inevitably would come before they fell back into their old rhythm. 

“I am good,” she said, “Really good. I just moved back here a few weeks ago, living with my dad until I find my own place. Y tu?”

“Bien. I moved home about a year ago, after finishing my schooling in London. Now I am interning while going Law School.” 

Nina grinned. “Wow Gastón, that is amazing! What kind of cases do you work on?”

“Primarily for companies. I know, not very flashy. But you, you’ve been in L.A., right?”

“Si. I was working as a journalist. I got to review literature and interview amazing people. I loved it, but I was ready to come home and finish my novel.” 

Gastón grinned. “You still write your own stuff then? Poetry?”

Nina hoped he didn’t notice her cheeks tingeing pink as she replied that she did in fact still write poetry and have had some published. A few even have won awards. She didn’t tell him that every poem was about love or heartbreak. She didn’t tell him every poem was still about him. 

You'll say you're proud and you're happy for me

And you always knew I'd end up living my dream

“I am so proud of you Nina,” Gastón said, “I am so happy that you are doing what you love. I remember how you would talk about being a published author. I knew that you would follow your dreams.”

She was only living part of her dream. When she had pictured her life future when she was younger, Gastón was always by her side. 

And then you'll fill me in on what you've been up to

And I'll probably interrupt you, you know I always do

And we'll both laugh and it's like nothing's changed

When I look in your eyes you'll still make me feel the same

They chatted about the past few years. What living in London was like for Gastón and how it compared to Buenos Aires. 

“Nina you would love Europe,” Gastón gushed, ���Everywhere you go the history is just so rich, my mates would get annoyed because I would want to read every sign. They would want to go to the club and I would want to go to Hamstead Heath-”

“-and see John Keats’s home?”

“Sí! They have a museum of his letters and his engagement ring to Fanny Brawne and-”

“-his death mask?”

“Sí, his death mask,” Gastón chuckled.

Nina let out an embarrassed giggle, covering her face with her hands. 

“Perdón, I’m interrupting you aren’t I? I know I do that too much.”

Gastón reached out to touch her arm lightly. 

“No need to be sorry, I love that you still know exactly what I am going to say.”

Nina uncovered her eyes, meeting his. The sparkle showed that he was unbothered by her interruptions and Nina felt  butterflies in her stomach as if she was a teenager and was on her first date with him again. 

And I'll dread the part when you tell me about all the girls you've been with

I know they're all in your past but it'll still be hard for me to listen

On their second drink, Nina finally got the courage to ask. 

“Are you seeing anyone?”

She didn’t know she was holding her breath until he replied that he wasn’t. 

“I haven’t been seeing anyone seriously for awhile. My last girlfriend and I broke up a couple months before I moved here.”

Although she was in the past, Nina felt like it was a stab to the chest. She tried to act casual as she asked how long he saw her for, though she was dying to know every detail: who broke up with who, how serious they were, did he love her as much as he had loved Nina once upon a time. 

“About a year and half.”

That was a long time. 

“I’m sorry that it ended.”

Gastón shook her off. 

“Don’t be. There was something missing I think. We gave it a go, but in the end it was a mutual breakup. It’s a common theme in my past relationships, Mariana was the longest I had…I mean besides you of course.” 

Nina felt unsure how to respond. She gave a small nod, her eyes drifting down to the chip bowl in front of her, trying to come up with a response. But Gastón beat her to it. 

“What about you?”

'Cause after all this time you haven't left my mind

I never moved on, I looked for you in every guy

None. She went on dates, looking for someone to replace what she had with Gastón, but no one could.  

But I'll make up some story so you won't have a clue

That I've never put myself out there 'cause I've been waiting for you

“No, I am not seeing anyone. I had been focused on my career and my writing, too busy for serious boyfriends.”

It was a lie. She could have balanced work with personal relationships. But after a while she had given up on anyone but Gastón, dreaming for the day that she would find herself back in his arms again. 

“Maybe now that I have moved home, I will start dating again,” she said, silently adding that she would start dating again for him. She would put her life on hold for him.

We'll talk for hours and we won't even notice that the bar cleared out, 'cause it closed at ten

It'll be almost 11, and you'll say, "We should probably leave"

Then you walk me to my car and say, "Let's do this again"

The conversation turned to the books they had read and the movies they had seen and Nina felt like nothing had changed over these past few years except for their age. He made everything so easy. Drinks came and went and hours passed. Chips were ordered, and then another. People trickled in and out, but Nina couldn’t tell you what a single person looked like, not even the bartender. 

“We should probably leave,” Gastón said, looking down at his watch. Nina’s eyes went wide when she realized that it was almost 11. Nina grabbed her purse and the two walked out of the establishment. When they reached her car, Gastón wrapped his arms around her for a final hug. 

“Let’s do this again soon,” he said, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she sighed into his shoulder. He let go after a few beats.

“Have a good night Nina.”

“You too.”

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but turned around anyway to head back to his car. Nina slid into the passenger seat of her own, watching as Gastón turned around twice more to wave. When he finally disappeared inside the driver’s door, she put her car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. 

And I'll drive home feeling the happiest I've been since five years ago before our inescapable end

But that's water under the bridge

It's okay that you didn't want me

'Cause before I can even pull in my driveway you'll call me

She tried to focus on the road, but she felt like she was soaring through the air. Tears threatened her eyes as she giggled to herself at how unreal the whole situation felt. She ran through her head the entire night again from that first glimpse of his face to that last embrace. 

She was so happy. She hadn’t been this happy since five years ago, when he used to love her. 

She jumped when her phone started to buzz, froze for a second when she saw Gastón’s name appear on her car’s screen. She pulled over, nervous as she answered. 

“Gastón?”

“Nina.”

You'll say that you couldn't wait 'til the next time you saw me to tell me you're sorry

About all those years ago

He didn’t say anything at first. 

“Gastón, is something wrong or?”

“No-no nothing is wrong. Nina I just….I have something I need to tell you and I cannot wait until the next time I see you.” 

Her heart thrummed. 

“Yes?”

“....I’m so sorry.”

“...for what Gastón?”

“For leaving you five years ago.”

And that you were just stupid and young and the girls that you loved were fine

But, none of them ever felt like home

But I do

“I was so stupid, and I was so young and I thought that breaking up with you was best because spending years thousands of miles from you seemed impossible at the time and I thought I would find love elsewhere. That’s what everyone kept telling me, it was just a high school relationship, it wasn’t meant to last forever. But Nina, I tried dating other girls, I did. And they were pretty and kind but something was always missing. It didn’t feel right because they didn’t make me feel like I did when I was with you. When I held them, I didn’t feel like I was…like I was home. And tonight…tonight I realize that you do. You always have felt like home.” 

“Nina…can you forgive me?”

One day you'll ask for my forgiveness, but you've had it all along

'Cause it's always been you

Nina smiled. 

She would tell him one day that she had never stopped thinking about him. She would give him the poetry she wrote about him. But for now she just would tell him that she forgave him. 

Even though he had it all along.

[jazzy---j]

Daughter of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief

“even the gods have to bow to fate”

Chapter Summary: Everything finally comes to a head when a storm and a hulking figure in the distance force the siblings to flee into the night. Leaving them with a new home, no hope, and no mom.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (4/23)

Our Mother Teaches Us Bullfighting

We tore through the night along dark country roads. The wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. I’d never seen my mom drive like this.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I flinched. I didn’t know what was going on but I was freaking out.

Percy looked back at me from the front passenger seat, “Cassie hey,” he reached back and gripped my hand, “we’re gonna be ok, alright?” he said.

I nodded.

I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo— lanolin, like wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

"So, you and my mom... know each other?" Percy said.

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

"Watching us?" I questioned, “That sounds a little creepy.”

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."

"Urn... what are you, exactly?" Percy asked.

”Dude... rude!” I chided.

"That doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey—"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"Goat!" he cried.

"What?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter,” Percy questioned.

I rolled my eyes. Oh my god, this was not the time!

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you under hoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" I yelled.

"Of course,” Grover responded.

So, we weren’t crazy. Which is both liberating and concerning. We saw what we saw and it was real. Not just some fever dream.

"Then why—" Percy started.

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?" Percy said.

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you and your sister to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after us?" I said.

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!"

”What!?” I exclaimed.

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?" Grover said.

I tried to concentrate on what was happening but, I couldn’t focus. Who was chasing us? Why did they want us?

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want us to go,” Percy wondered aloud.

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn,” he asked.

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you.'"

"No, I didn't. I said 'someone.'"

"You meant 'you.' As in me."

"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."

"Boys!/Guys!” My mom and I said.

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid—a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where there was, but I gripped Percy’s hand tighter in anticipation.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness—the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill Percy and me.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner... and the spear he had thrown me. I gripped the bracelet and turned to Grover. But before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom! and our car exploded.

I screamed.

I remember feeling weightless like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and groaned, “uggghhh.”

Something... something wasn’t right.

I felt a growing pain and reached to the back of my head. I felt something wet, pulling my hand back I tried to focus on my thoughts but everything was all muddled. When my eyes finally focused I saw my hands covered in blood.

My eyes widened, that was my blood!

"Percy, Cassie!” my mom shouted.

"We’re ok...” Percy said.

I groaned again in confirmation.

I tried to shake off the daze. I wiped my bloodied hand on the seats. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Because that’s just how life works now, I guess.

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump.

"Grover!" Percy cried.

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half-goat, I don’t want you to die.

Grover was my brother’s best friend without him I would be his best friend. I love my brother but he needs his own friends.

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope.

"Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is—"

"Kids," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy grab your sister, you two have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?" He exclaimed.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too!” Percy said, eyes determined.

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. She didn't intend to come with us.

"No!" I shouted, “Mom please!”

"You are coming with us, “Percy said affirmed, “Help me carry Grover."

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head... was his head. And the points that looked like horns...

"He doesn't want me," my mother told me. "He wants you two. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But..."

"We don't have time, Percy. Grab your sister and go. Please."

Percy kicked the window out of the front passenger seat, “We're going together. Come on, Mom."

“I told you—"

"Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover."

He didn't wait for her answer and scrambled outside.

I climbed across Grover and pushed the passenger door open into the rain.  I climbed out, broken glass cutting my hands. I turned back around and helped Percy drag Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far with just Percy if mom hadn't come to our aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass. Mom guided us through.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear—I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

Oh god!

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real.

I blinked the rain out of my eyes.

"That's—" Percy started.

"Pasiphae's son," my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"But he's the Min—" I began.

"Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far—a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows—or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moaned.

"Shhh," Percy told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

Oops. I wonder if completely totaled counts.

"Kids," my mom said "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way— directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?" I shouted.

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me."

"Keeping us near you? But—"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover away from my grip. "Go, Percy! Cassie! Separate! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. Percy looked at me, grabbing my hand tightly and we started sprinting to the right, turned and saw the creature bearing down on us. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

We stopped in from of a tree as he lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at us.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So we held our ground, and at the last moment, we dove in opposite directions. I apparently didn’t move fast enough because as the monster barreled past its horn clipped my side.

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then drove right into a tree. He tried to pull back but his horn was stuck in the trunk.

As the bull thingy struggled Percy crawled over to me.

At this point, I am crying a little bit and gritting my teeth in pain. I gripped the gash in my side to stop the bleeding.

Percy reached me and gripped my shoulders firmly, “Cassie, Cassie look at me,” with teary eyes I looked at his rain soaked face, “I want you to run to the hill, ok? Just like mom said,” He exclaimed.

“No- Percy don’t!” I groaned.

”I’ll hold it off, ok? Don’t worry I’ll be right behind you,” he said firmly.

I was so dazed from blood loss I nodded dumbly. He helped me up and pushed me toward the hill.

“Run Cassie! Go!” He yelled. I started running toward the hill. My side and head were throbbing, I could barely breathe even as I tried to gulp down big breaths of air. Halfway up the hill I stopped and turned, trying to catch my breath.

I saw the bull creature finally pull itself free leaving the horn in the side bark of the tree. It bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward Percy this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

I'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side, I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

Percy stared frozen.

"Run, Percy!" she told him. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

I watched from that hill as she tried to sidestep, as she'd told us to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

“Mom!" Percy screamed.

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash and she was simply... gone.

"NOOOOOOO!" I screamed.

My voice echoed through the forest, the ground started trembling, trees were shaking, and pine needles fell to the ground.

Anger replaced my fear. With so much adrenaline pumping through me, the pain in my side was forgotten. Newfound strength burned in my limbs— as I raced back down the hill.

I just lost my mom I was not gonna lose Percy too!

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, sniffing him as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

Percy stripped off his red rain jacket.

"Hey!" He screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward Percy, shaking his meaty fists.

I was running as fast as I could down the hill. I had to reach them before Percy got himself killed with some stupidly heroic idea.

Percy put his back to the big pine tree and waved the red jacket in front of the bull-man.

Oh, ok he gonna jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't exactly happen like that. Of course.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab him whichever way he tried to dodge.

Time seemed to slow down just as I reached the edge of the forest.

Percy couldn't jump sideways, so he leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How the hell did he do that? I didn't have time to figure it out.  A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into another tree and the impact threw Percy around like a rag doll. I stood watching, trying to think of a plan.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake my brother. As he was being jerked around, Percy saw me standing there, his eyes widened.

Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. I scanned the forest looking for anything to help my brother. Next to me was the tree where the monster left his horn lodged in the side. I got an idea as I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, as I gripped the horn and pulled it out of the tree.

"Food!" Grover moaned.

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. But, Percy got both hands around the remaining horn and pulled backward. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap!

The bull-man screamed and flung him through the air. He landed flat on his back on the ground. When he sat up he had the horn in his hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife, twin to mine.

The monster charged me, but I was ready and charged back.

Percy rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, he drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

I ran, kicking off a nearby tree, and flew through the air stabbing the creature straight in the neck.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open, my side throbbing in pain. I was weak and terrified. I wanted to lie down and cry, but Percy needed my help carrying Grover. He couldn’t do it by himself.

I managed to stagger over to both of them. Percy gripped my shoulder tightly as we picked Grover up and dragged ourselves up the hill and down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse. I was sobbing, calling for my mother, I even called for Percy in confusion.

But I held on to Percy—I held onto him for dear life.

The last thing I remember is us collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man, a girl with blonde braids, and a brown-eyed boy. The boy just stared blankly down at me, and the girl said, "That one is the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "They are still conscious. Markus would you please bring them inside."

Then everything went dark.

chapter 5 >>>

[benjaminalphabet]

i had dreams when i met you,

fantastical and open.

i used to dream of an avant-garde;

street lights, neon, highway robbery,

bleach stains, playing cards,

cleaning dirty sneakers,

two keychains, one driver.

i should say i had fantasies.

knowing you was a hit and run,

over before i'd realized it happened.

what i remember in blinding detail does not hold up in justice, you left no evidence.

i had an empty backseat and half full box of latex gloves, but nothing to prove you were real.

these days i only dream of release.

my fantasies are of freedom,

solitude without loneliness.

i dream about what it would feel like

to not want anyone, to not need anything.

i dream about life free of this pit you left in my stomach.

i live a life with my hands tied behind my back.

plea deal, sore bruised eye, internal bleeding.

i'd take the fall for you a hundred times over,

again and again,

knowing you'll never come back.

i spend my days in front of a mirror getting my story straight;

i work your innocence into the smallest details, no one will notice.

you were sweet, emotional. i was cold like running water,

the gun was yours, but who couldn't understand?

cold white moonlight engulfed in my sun.

she took the money, but you were just driving.

i needed an excuse for my bad attitude,

you'll get away with it, and maybe i'll get time off for good behavior.

i stand in the witness box and ask for survival alone;

i'll spend my life behind bars, i need the time to work through it.

these days i walk around inside my body like it is an empty house.

in each room a new memory, something you left behind. i remember this version of you - what we became in the end-

but i feel like a trespasser.

you were just an accidental thief, the most pathetic kind. one last job, she had the liquor and the blueprints. it was foolproof, you saw it.

you understood.

i did not mean to be the thing that brought you two together, or what tore you apart.

it’s true i dug my head into the sand.

it’s true that when the engine stalled, i took off on foot.

i heard the sirens, saw the lights. i left you for dead with a duffle bag and a loaded gun.

i did everything i could to run away, but i never got far.

i could never outrun you.

i thought it was mine, but the plot twist was her's,

the switch at the end, and the joke was on me.

she knew where i'd go, and she brought the hounds with her.

when i lost the game, it was like novocain.

how many times can i be convinced of happy endings, how many times will i walk away empty?

it's true that the grieving is filling, and will keep me sustained and alive,

but the numbness is visceral and will echo in this cell long after i'm gone.

i count the bricks in the wall, and the epiphanies come one by one,

they slither down through the bars in my window, moments of quick and dirty true colors, all those things i saw and ignored.

i should've known, i saw it coming, i should've planned,

i should've made a move.

the caravan drove by my childhood home on the way to the courthouse,

there is something so exhausting about innocence and trust.

i think of the barrel of your amethyst pistol more often than i think of that look in your eyes.

calm and collected, you stood dead center double yellow,

potholed paved road, i knew it was over long before you reached for your waist.

i saw the headlights, checked the rearview mirror.

i made my last choice in a moment of weakness.

even though you're gone i won't tell them your name.

yours, or her's.

i do not want to give up anything else.

i have nothing to lose,

nothing of my own;

but you were both mine for a moment.

the betrayal is bitter,

but i still can't let go of those saccharine nights.

i’m not sure if i have any honor left.

it left with my dignity, somewhere with you toward Mexico City.

it escaped in the trunk of your unmarked car that night hope died on the road, bloody and screaming.

now my naive wide eyes stare back at me from bulletproof glass.

my conscience sits next to me somewhere in the prison basement, tennis ball and concrete,

and we count the drips from the ceiling,

while i go over it again,

again and again,

from the first night in April- to the moment i lost you.

i have one act of good faith left, i have one final devotion.

i fall into hiding like most people fall asleep.

breathe the stale air like saltwater, or counterfeit oxygen.

inhale, choke, exhale, cough.

inhale, us, exhale, me.

my lungs burn, but i cannot stop.

false hope only costs two contraband cigarettes and the time it takes to build a tiny paper city.

i think of uneven diner booths, cheap gin, and black coffee.

i think of nights in the lounge, racing down the stairs,

i think of how simple it was before we started treating each other like foxes. dishonest and guarded, but i am not a good liar.

i was your fool in the end, and you made off with the money,

but i heard she left you weeks later in a motel bed, deep night or early morning,

with mud on your clothes, and a big bill to pay.

i wonder if the devil will laugh in my face.

if you listen i’ll tell you that you’ll have it all one day.

we'll pay back our debts, and karma will grant all your wishes in time,

but by then you won’t want them anymore.

we'll run into each other on some southern street corner, and i will seem so familiar but so out of place.

by then you’ll have made peace with the emptiness.

we'll have different names, you’ll be the best at what you do, and i will have taken my vows and left it all on an alter for something grand and unreachable.

i don’t put stock into much for now.

i cry when i can, i sing when i’m allowed.

mostly i walk quietly, i work so hard to not make any noise.

mostly i practice removing myself.

i've had a bad habit of running away only to come back.

this time i might not come back.

i won't have the choice to.

this time i might stay gone forever.

i’m not sure i’m ready to look God in the face,

whether by death or by worship,

i still have too much anger, too much violence.

i still think too hard and too often about the nights you and i spent tangled in bedsheets, and backseats, and bars.

i’ll cause a scene in the threshold of heaven and the archangels will have to carry me out.

no, if i don’t make it out of this alive i will not rush towards the light.

i think i have done this too many times.

my soul aches, and it is tired of this life of crime.

it's always the last time, the last job,

the last bullet, last minute,

the second before the end.

my soul begs for the summer off so it can finally have a moment to think.

my soul begs for its own bedroom so it can finally be alone, so it can finally hear the silence.

i am just along for this ride. the getaway car was never mine,

i am in the backseat but what i am forced to carry is so heavy.

since you've been gone i have not heard true silence.

even in the middle of the deadliest nights,

i can still hear the ringing in my ears,

my shackles and chains scream out when i move,

the bed creaks, the wind scratches its claws on my window,

i can still hear the blood rushing through my skull.

i want to consult the infirmary doctors, but they will not see me.

i want them to open me up and run my thoughts under cold water.

i want to scrub out the mold that i swear has been growing inside of me.

this death is quiet and slow.

a sweet helpless purgatory, it feels just like you, i’m not sure i’ll ever reach a finish line.

the only confession i have when the chaplain comes to my door is that i’m tired and bored,

and i'm ready to go.

the same days over and over, the same routines, same thoughts, same rows of beds that are not mine.

these memories and clothes that all stay the same color no matter how many times i wash them.

this life that does not really feel like it’s mine.

i have nothing, not even myself.

i push onward because i have no choice.

i am alone because it is all i can think of to do.

i have carved out my ribcage, built fires and homes,

i have spent years plucking feathers to help flightless birds fly.

i have never been able to give them enough.

i have been no parasail, these wings have been clipped.

i do not know where the end is,

i’m tired of looking for it.

it never matters how much i sleep,

i wake up exhausted either way.

it does not matter how many times i walk through it, deep in my mind. i have explained all the details, the clues and the fingerprints.

it does not matter how much sense i can make, down here in the dungeon,

there is no one to explain it to, no one to understand.

in the end, when i can, i will retire to the sea.

i will stand on the rocks by the shore willing the biggest waves to take me away.

they will listen, they will grant me one final wish.

by the time i am finished drowning,

they will have written me a list

of all the reasons why

i have made the wrong decision.

they will write me a list

of all the things i did not understand.

i will reach the breaking point at the same time it starts to make sense.

i will die ashamed, embarrassed,

enlightened,

feeling like i have lost so much.

by then it will all be over, by then it will be too late.

8.18.24 || hit and run

[purgatored]

CHERRY CAN'T HELP BUT GIVE HIM AN EXASPERATED LOOK AT THE COMMENT . it's truly more amusing than she would like to admit, and a flicker of that amusement might glint in her eyes for a bit but cherry tries to cover it up with another drag from her cigarette as she mumbles, " yeah, yeah ..." she smokes for a beat in silence . it's almost enough to compose her again . if she ignores the carnage outside, and the details of her company, and this whole fucking place, than for a moment cherry almost feels relaxed . but then he goes on, and cherry can't help but blink . " you think this place is hell ?" her brow arches with the question . cherry finds herself studying him anew . looking at him from his toes to the tips of his hair and trying to picture him as an alter boy or something . it's a hard image to mesh with the one she already has of him but even that one is unstable as all hell, so what cherry know, really ? after all, she wasn't particularly gung ho on god and yet the thought had passed her mind too . cherry's pretty sure anyone who got even a sniff of the bible would consider as much upon getting here . her expression is almost thoughtful as she considers him before his next question startles her out of contemplation . cherry blinks once but doesn't hesitate , " my baby ." an arch of her brow . " she was an impala ." the cigarette is at her lips . she takes a drag before looking down at it to gauge how much she's got until she gets to the filter . after all, waste not want not and all that . " she was gorgeous . red and sleek and sexy ." cherry licks the seam of her lips then shrugging almost casually . " i named her chevvy, cause, y'know . she was a chevvy ." cherry's eyes roll a bit at the obviousness of the explanation but then her gaze becomes intent again as she points to him with the cig to add, "but also cause i'm cherry, so we were chevvy and cherry ." cherry nods decisively before bringing the cigarette back to her lips with an almost conversational, " it was cute ." the lie slides off her tongue easy because there's more than half a bit of truth in it, really . after all, she did lose her car . it was just what was inside it that gut her open more .

but cherry decides not to focus on that . instead she holds her cigarette between her lips and brings two hands up as if she's gripping something vaguely above her head . " i had these two giant fuzzy dice hangin' off the rearview mirror ." cherry's eyes glint a bit at the description even as she mumbles around the cigarette before pulling it out to add, " and fuzzy leopard seats . she was a dream . drove like one too ." a wistful sigh as cherry looks down at the smoke streaming from her cigarette . she really was quite fond of that damn car . " she was a birthday gift ." what's almost a pout crosses cherry's features . " and now she's gone all cause of some idiots with badges ." cherry falls into a moment of nostalgia then . into memories of driving that car windows down, hollerin' and feeling free with the open road before her . now she can only road she can drive will lead her in circles . it's almost painfully ironic . adam's voice brings her back to the present and cherry comes to it with a roll of her eyes and what's nearly a snort . " yeah ? and i bet you're real torn up about it, huh ?" the words are almost teasing . cherry can't help but shake her head, the slightest of curves to her lips as she scoffs and swings her legs from where they dangle over the motel desk . " i've never met a guy who wanted me for anything but my body ." the words are dry more than anything . cherry's not really all that torn up about it either, truly . it's not like she was going around expecting random guys to appreciate her for her great intellect . so instead of answering as adam continues she merely snorts, eyes twinkling even as she turns her head to look at him, to meet his eyes as she bluntly says, " i don't believe you . but alright ." the liquor is making her accent as thick of molasses . the drawl of it is comfortable on her tongue . she blinks at his offer, arching a brow at it for a moment as she considers before ultimately shrugging and saying, " sure, why not ." cherry rests her cigarette between her lips as she moves to push herself to sit up, reaching a hand out for the gun casually .

"Dunno, I'm a cop -- not a psychologist." truthfully he wasn't either. He was a drug dealer gone rogue and a pretty shit one at that. Only thing Adam was ever good at his entire life was high-school football and he couldn't even keep his grades up enough to stay good at that. Granted, he had family to take care of and two extra jobs to help him do that, so it's not like he had the time to self-actualise, chase dreams, pursue hobbies. Sometimes, late at night, he did imagine himself doing something creative. He pictured himself being good at photography, liking it even. Animals were fascinating too, being a vet was a dream, wasn't it? But none of his thoughts ever went further than that. -- Adam never pictured himself being a cop, it was an opportunity that simply...presented itself. And it's much easier for general population to trust a cop than a criminal in the back of ones car.

But it seemed not everyone shared in that belief. As he listened to her talk, Adam felt a strange sort of kinship. If he could drop his guard down, just for a second -- to let himself admit the truth of who he was, how he got here, what his life was like, she would surely have understood. But people could not be trusted, and beyond selfish desire to be seen and heard and accepted for who he was, there was this deep fear that one day he would do something, or say something wrong, and she would take those secrets and set them free.

"Maybe that's why I'm here then." he reads between the lines, he understands what they took was someone who could not be replaced. And he fucking hated the cops. He hated a government-backed gang. But he would rather be hated for being one of them, than himself. "I mean, if this is some kind of hell for all of us then...wouldn't it make sense someone like me would be a part of yours? And someone like you...a part of mine?" but it wasn't far. Jus as she'd put it, none of it was fair -- because he wasn't who he seemed to be, and without knowing much more than what she'd said, he was certain neither was she. "Who'd they take?" he shuts out the cigarette now, relaxing back into the chair as his eyes remained firmly on her features. He was greedy to know more, to see her beyond the words.

"I don't shoot many shots actually, I know -- shocker, can't help but feel like girls just want me for my body." it's cheeky, the comment, but not entirely untrue. From the moment his growth sprout took a hold of him, Adam knew he was good-lookin. Aunties loved to squeeze his cheeks, tell him how he'd be breaking hearts soon enough. Girls loved to give him attention, to get some back -- but it was all...shallow. He couldn't recall the last time he genuinely met a real fucking person. "I wasn't trying to fuck you, I was messin' around -- you're not the only one who's bored." and then her reason, for not liking him, plan and simple but the irony was not lost on him, so he chuckles at the words. "You wanna hold my gun?"

[ambercoloredfox]

Crown of Curses II

Summary: It's like a bad horror movie, but is Fawney Rig really haunted? Or have her troubles only just begun?

Pairing: Morpheus x f!Reader/OC

Rating: Teen. Maybe Mature for cursing (ha).

Notes: Content warning for mentions of child abuse. Nothing descriptive. Mentions of comic spoilers (Overture). Morpheus has no mouth and he must scream.

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There was a creak directly above his head. He could feel her enter the confines of the binding circle, though far above. Just as quickly her presence vanished.

Dream watched the ceiling with absent eyes.

He listened to her footsteps. Tried to deny that they came closer. Then there was silence.

A question arose in him. Why was the woman here?

She certainly walked around like she owned this place, making enough noise after so long of silence that it could surely wake the dead--

BANG.

The noise echoed through his confines like a gunshot. His eyes watched where he knew the iron door to be.

There was a pause. Then, footsteps on stone. She was coming down the stairs.

"You mean Fawney Rig?" The driver turned in his seat to look me in the eye.

Surprise. Distrust. The acrid taste of fear.

"If you're going there just ta have a laugh I ain't takin' you." He sneered.

I kept my face neutral and gripped the handle on my bag tighter. The chatter of the crowd was silenced as I shut the cab door with a defiant click.

"Do people come fly all the way to the UK to 'have a laugh' at Fawney Rig?"

His eyes finally slid from my face as he glanced back at the airport. The weight of the ruby hung like a noose under my clothes.

"'Suppose not." He muttered, starting up the car.

I stared out the window as we made our way to Wych Cross, thankful for the silence. My mind whirled with possibilities, each more unpleasant than the last. After finding this accursed jewel and living with it for nearly half a year, I wasn't sure if I wanted answers anymore.

I mean, I certainly wanted the curse lifted.

But I had lost hope that it was even a possibility at this point. Everything had only gotten worse since I started digging.

Now I wasn't just unlucky. Now I had a damn manifestation of the curse chained around my neck.

One that made emotions that weren't my own rise up inside me each time I looked someone in the eye. Like some useless knock-off psychic.

I rested my temple against the cool glass and sighed. I had stopped looking for answers only to have this now fall into my damn lap. My curse was the world's shittiest rollercoaster.

"So." The cabby said curtly, snapping me from my thoughts. "What had you comin' all the way here just to get to a place like Fawney Rig?"

He spat the name out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. It piqued my interest.

"Long story." One I wasn't about to share. "Why? Is the place famous or something?"

His eyes met mine through the rearview mirror.

Concern.

"You mean ya don't know?"

All I knew was some long lost uncle had paid the best private investigator a lot of money to find me-- only to leave me Fawney Rig in his will. On the condition I never sold it.

And made sure no one entered the property.

So, naturally, I booked the first flight over to see it for myself.

"Nope." I popped the 'p' sound with an air of nonchalance I didn't feel.

"That place is haunted. Like properly, bloody haunted."

I raised an eyebrow and met him with a deadpan stare. The taste of deception was absent, but that didn't mean I trusted him.

"My brother used to work there," The cabby continued, licking his lips. "As a security guard. Wouldn't talk about it. Said they made him sign a bunch of shi- stuff. So he couldn't talk about it."

"So? That doesn't mean it's haunted."

"Maybe not, maybe not." He nodded. "But then there's the rumors."

"Rumors?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "They say there used to be a cult that met there. In the 1920s. Led by a bloke named Roderick Burgess."

Burgess? That name sounded familiar. My foot tapped against my pack which had the copy of the will and the deed to Fawney Rig. I'd have to check it later.

"The Burgess fella was rumored to be some knock off Crowley. Ya know, like Alistair Crowley? Right crazies, the lot of them."

I nodded along, hoping my silence would encourage him to continue.

"Well, this cult-- Order of Ancient Mysteries, they called 'em-- they did some real magic. Like they was some fu- messed up occult devil worshippers."

I tried not to roll my eyes. One thing I knew for sure, being raised in a Catholic orphanage, was all that religious crap was complete bullshit. Just another tool the powerful used to oppress the powerless.

The disbelief must have shown on my face.

"It's true, miss! They say the cult summoned the devil and locked 'im away in the basement there!"

I couldn't help but scoff. "Sounds like a bad ghost story. If the literal devil was locked up in some random basement, wouldn't that mean there'd be no more sin, no more temptation?"

The cabby looked a bit like a dry drowning goldfish as his 'O' shaped mouth flapped, before he finally recovered and shook his head.

"Look, all's I know is that my brother never slept right after he took that job. Always looked over his shoulder like he was expecting ta find somethin'."

He twisted in his seat to meet my eye again, an act to emphasize his seriousness.

The stomach rotting curl of sharp anxiety.

"If I was you, I'd stay far away from that place, miss. Better off a crumblin' ruin, I say."

A crumbling ruin that, for some god awful reason, I now own, I thought to myself.

It wasn't as much of a crumbled ruin as I had expected. Or maybe my reoccurring dreams about that ghostly palace had changed my expectations on what 'ruin' meant.

Fawney Rig did look like a stereo typical haunted mansion, though. Even in broad daylight.

I readjusted the strap of my pack and took a deep breath. I let the teeth of the key bite into the palm of my hand in an attempt to ground myself.

Even if I didn't believe the rumor about a devil being locked in the basement, I knew most lies were coated in a sprinkle of truth. Maybe there had been some cult here. Maybe there had been some magic.

Maybe this building held the answers to why I was cursed.

Only one way to find out.

The lock opened with a poignant click and I let the door swing open without removing the key. The squeaking of the hinges were so stereotypical of a bad horror movie I might've laughed.

Instead I just really really didn't want to go inside.

I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the dim light. It looked like the place had truly been abandoned. Like pictures of those ghost towns where dinner was still left out on the table. Nothing had been touched.

Floor boards creaked beneath my feet. It wasn't as dusty as I had expected it to be. Then again my uncle hadn't died all that long ago.

I turned down the east hall to find it was lined with glass display shelves holding an array of antiques and taxidermied animals. So much so that the displays crowded into the walk way, demanding attention and giving me a sense of acute claustrophobia.

Whoever designed this place was obnoxious. Like modern rich assholes who decided everything they owned had to be completely white or plated in gold.

I guess the rich never fucking change.

My eyes stopped their wandering when they found a grey stone bust behind a glass case, set directly in the middle of the hall.

Roderick Burgess, the gold plaque read.

"You even look like a prick." I muttered to myself, flicking the glass.

I dropped my pack on the floor with a careless thump. Time to figure out why that name seemed familiar. I sat cross legged and pulled out all the paperwork I had for Fawney Rig.

"You're shitting me."

The name of my long lost uncle, my father's brother, was Alex Burgess.

I glanced back up at the bust. "Please tell me it's only through marriage. I will lose my shit if I'm related by blood--"

The blood running through your veins was spilled in an ancient rite, upsetting the balance of the universe.

Air caught in my chest like a stab wound at the memory.

"Fuck." I muttered, blinking away tears. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I pressed the heel of my palms into my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself. Panicking wasn't going to help. Leaning my head against the bottom of the case, I sucked in long even breaths.

When my heart finally slowed to an acceptable speed, I raised my head and looked up into cold stone eyes.

"What the fuck did you do?"

Like most old mansions, it wasn't as big as you expected it to be. Of course, it was big for a victorian era home, especially one in Europe. But thanks to my particular path in life, I had been in much bigger mansions.

I passed the door in the east wing with a keypad lock for what must have been the hundredth time. A room with a secret important enough to be guarded. I kept my eyes forward.

Just like a coward.

Behind door number 12 or so, was a fairly bare and small guest bedroom. Or maybe it had been a servants bedroom. A four poster bed, a dresser, and two chairs next to a small fireplace, were the only things inside.

It felt much more like my shitty little Brooklyn studio apartment than any of the other bedrooms. Plus it had the bonus of being on the first floor. Easier to hear a break in that way.

I tossed my pack onto the bed and sat down after it. Absent mindedly, my fingers traced where the ruby sat under my shirt. It seemed like answers were going to find me, whether I wanted them or not. I sighed and placed my head in my hands.

No use delaying the inevitable.

Taking a screwdriver and wire cutters from my pack, I pocketed them and left my cowardice in the bedroom.

The keypad came off the wall with little effort. It was an older model, likely not updated since the 90s.

Why did the rich always skimp out on the most important stuff?

I cut the wires to the lock and heard the magnets disengage with a quiet whir. The door was so old that the physical lock on the handle could be jammed open with the screwdriver.

It swung open and hit the wall with an echoing bang. I stared at the stone steps that led down to into the darkness.

If there was the devil down there, he was sure to be awake now.

The lights flickered when I turned them on. Cautiously, I decended. My feet touched the bottom step. I turned, heart racing in my chest.

I didn't know what I expected. But it certainly hadn't been this.

It had been far, far too long, Dream decided. Since his captor's death and the absence of his daily pleadings, time seemed to blur together ceaselessly. He was left in complete darkness without even the mindless chatter of the guards to distract him.

Everything felt so... empty.

Yet it had not been long enough. How many more years would he have to suffer this oppressive silence, the numbing cold, the black that had seemed to manifest itself in his very being?

How long before the building gave way and he could finally return home?

Dream had long since given up the hope that someone would free him.

That hope had died with his raven.

Even his siblings had not been bothered by his absence. Dream would not lower himself to beg for their help. He had done so before, eons ago.

It had not ended well.

Dream was not a being that forgot. Nor did he make the same mistake twice.

A noise cut through the quiet. The creaking of wood.

He dismissed it as noises of an old house adjusting to its own weight. Yet some deep dark part of him wished it to be the beginning of something.

The beginning of collapse.

Before long he heard it again.

Creak.

Dream focused intently on the sound, expecting nothing, but still feeling the start of some long lost emotion stoke to life within him. He tried to smoother the seething embers.

There was nothing here but dust. His imagination was getting carried away.

Or perhaps he was falling apart. Changing, irreversibly, like his sister had.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Was that it? Was he going mad?

Or were those truly footsteps he was hearing?

A woman's voice drifted to him, so quietly that he could not make out the words. No, that was impossible. He must be going mad.

Thump.

Dream's head snapped up. The noise echoed off the stone walls, making a hallucination seem improbable. Then came a woman's voice again.

The same woman.

Hope roared to life inside him like a wildfire. Dream desperately tried to douse the flames.

Though he may not be alone, it did not mean he was going to be freed. After all, how many had seen him trapped and had done nothing?

Humanity had proven their cruelty knew no bounds.

He did not know how long he listened to the woman walk around above him, her quiet voice occasionally finding it's way to him. It mattered not.

She was not here to free him.

Perhaps it would be better if she did not find him at all. He much prefered the absence of their petty demands.

Even if it meant a hundred more years in this empty darkness.

There was a creak directly above his head. He could feel her enter the confines of the binding circle, though far above. Just as quickly her presence vanished.

Dream watched the ceiling with absent eyes.

He listened to her footsteps. Tried to deny that they came closer. Then there was silence.

A question arose in him. Why was the woman here?

She certainly walked around like she owned this place, making enough noise after so long of silence that it could surely wake the dead--

BANG.

The noise echoed through his confines like a gunshot. His eyes watched where he knew the iron door to be.

There was a pause. Then, footsteps on stone. She was coming down the stairs.

Dream felt his body tense, as if his limbs were vipers preparing to strike. The wildfire had become a supernova, consuming him from the inside and drawing all the breath from his lungs.

And yet.

And yet...

He heard the woman let out a huff.

"This is what I get, listening to goddamn ghost stories. A cellar full of--" There was the clinking of glass. "--pickled eggs? Gross."

All at once, the light within him was snuffed out. The darkness had never felt more suffocating. Dream let his head fall back down.

How could she be expected to know that he lay just beyond the brick wall? One that had been built to hide his prison?

You're never getting out of there...

Perhaps Roderick Burgess had been right.

"This is hopeless." Her voice could have been his echo. "What am I even fucking doing here?"

Dream felt the woman's sigh somewhere deep in his soul. As she grew quiet, he felt the silence companionable, like the ghost of an old friend. They sat together in the same darkness, separated only by the illusion of a wall.

Too quickly, her footsteps proceeded back up the stairs. Once again, he was alone. It shouldn't matter, and yet he felt the truth of it like a weight upon his shoulders.

I think you're lonely.

Some strange part of him even missed his reflection in the cold glass cage. He did not know whether it was because it simply reminded him he existed, or if his mind had decided to pretend his reflection had been company. Someone to share in his suffering.

Proof that his suffering existed. That he was not the nothing they had made him to feel.

Another creak above his head. The woman's presence entered his awareness, inside the binding circle once more. Dream felt completely powerless. And yet.

If he stretched his mind far enough...

The act was akin to holding a heavy weight on an outstretched arm.

She was so far away and he was nearly completely depleted; drained of his power after the assault of time, the absence of his tools, and the great act that had made him susceptible to such a spell in the first place. Still, he continued onward, stretching the bounds of his power.

The woman felt so tired. Some journey had left her weary. Dream nursed that feeling, beckoning her mind to enter his realm.

It would not be enough to free him, not in his state. He may not even be able to manifest himself properly in her dream. None the less, it was some small scrap of power, of control, that he would not soon give up.

Invisible hands forced her under the warm blanket of sleep, fingers digging into her brain. As he slipped into her dream, he discovered why she was there.

And who she was.

His heart sank. The Fates were surely mocking him.

It felt like being back in that storage room, surrounded by too much junk and not knowing where to start. Answers were right at my fingertips, yet hidden like a needle in a pile of needles. I sighed and collapsed back on the bed, letting my uncle's will fall to the floor.

God, I was just so tired of it all. Forever getting no where. What was the point of it all? My unfocused gaze stared at the ceiling.

A yawn caused my eyes to tear up. Then another.

Maybe a nap would reset my brain. Give me some idea on what to do. When was the last time I had had a decent night's sleep, anyway?

I felt myself begin to drift... then I startled back awake with force.

Sitting up, I blinked at the darkness of the room. When had the sun set? I must've been asleep for a while.

Shadows danced across the wallpaper from the lit fireplace. Surprised, I turned towards it.

Gleaming eyes met my own.

I yelped and shot to my feet, backing into the dresser but not daring to take my eyes off what I saw.

A dark silhouette of a figure, flames flickering behind him to cast him in shadow. No, he seemed to be made of shadow, save for two pinpricks of bright light that glowed like a predator in the night. The edges of him wavered and twisted, made of smoke. His eyes watched me and emotions rose like bile up my throat.

Fury. Disgust. Contempt.

Whatever this thing was, it hated me with such ashy depth that I felt I might choke on it. My hands shook. There was no where to run. I tried to swallow everything back down, including my own fear.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

The shadow man said nothing, but his eyes continued to burn into my own.

Despair. Anguish. Longing.

It ached like a fish hook in my throat, the bone deep sense of longing ringing in my ears. He needed something, to the point of desperation and the exclusion of all else.

"What, what do you want?" Tears stung my eyes as I stuttered.

He didn't move. Smudged blackness twisted around him. Pain throbbed in my mouth as I looked into his eyes. He looked like some dark ghost.

"Look, I can't..." I tapped into some strange well of courage I didn't know I had. "I can't help you if you won't even talk to me!"

The shadow's rage pushed into me, a physical force shoving my backwards in it's intensity. I gasped and struggled to breathe, falling to my knees as his anger knocked the wind out of me. He glided towards me, lower part of him moving like a poor mimic of normal walking. The darkness of his form ate up my vision.

My tears finally broke the confines of my lashes. "Just, just tell me. Please, I don't know what you want." I choked. "Just tell me wh-what to do."

We watched each other for a moment, both of us equally uncertain. Then he raised his arm and I flinched, a learned child-like instinct preparing me for the blow I knew would come.

Nothing happened.

I peaked over my raised, shaking arms.

His hand was stretched out towards me, palm up as if waiting for something. Glimmering lights were frozen on me.

Surprise. Curiosity. Pity.

His emotions went down like a bitter pill I had to swallow. I could no longer look the shadow man in the eye, feeling strangely exposed, despite being the one who read his emotions.

A hand still reached towards me. It was held out like he expected me to give him something. His fingers curled slowly, beckoning me with a new found gentleness.

I still didn't understand what he wanted. So I did the only thing I could think to do. Slowly, I placed my hand in his.

Cold shadows curled around my hand, not quite fingers, only the poor approximation of them. It felt like the memory of touch, long since faded. I hesitated. He did not. The shadow man pulled me to my feet, my legs wobbling like a newborn deer's as they took my weight again.

He dropped my hand and I avoided his gaze. Pity was a taste I couldn't seem to get out of my mouth. Without a second glance, he turned and glided towards the door.

"H-hey!" I called as he disappeared out to the hallway. "Wait! Where are you..."

I bit the inside of my cheek as if that would somehow calm my nerves. A smarter person would've left well enough alone and been glad to see the entity leave.

So of course I followed the shadow man.

Just as I entered a room, he would slip into the next, trailing me along with his starlit eyes. The taste of encouragement and anticipation mixed on my tongue like melting spun sugar. It clashed harshly with my own growing anxiety, the sweetness making me feel sick as I began to suspect where he was leading me.

I froze when my worst fears were realized. His dark figure watched me from the door to the basement. My hesitation didn't bother him. As soon as he was sure I had seen him, he disappeared inside.

Memories of the rumors roared in my ears. Was this the devil? Or a ghost? Both seemed equally unlikely.

In the end, I decided it didn't matter. I couldn't get any more cursed.

Right?

Numb stiff legs carried me to the doorway. He looked up at me from the bottom of the stairs, his eyes the only things visible in the dark. When I flicked on the light switch he was gone.

I took a deep breath, remembering the oppressive sorrow I had felt coming from within the shadow man. For something akin to an eldritch entity, he seemed to have downright human emotions. Maybe he was a ghost.

As I took my first step down the stairs, I prayed this was more of a Lovely Bones situation than an episode of Supernatural. When I reached the landing, he was no where to be found. The same musty cellar as before met me. Even the shelf of dusty wine bottles was exactly as it had been the first time.

Confused, I stepped deeper inside, turning my back on the shelf of wine and the red brick wall. Further in the cellar were more shelves with forgotten jars and crates of junk. My eyes caught sight of a particularly colorful jar and an idea struck me.

Weren't djinn beings made of smoke? Maybe he was neither a devil nor a ghost.

Maybe he was a genie, trapped in a bottle.

My hand pressed the skin warmed ruby into my chest, still hidden under my clothes. I could wish for the curse to be lifted, couldn't I? Would that really work?

It was worth a shot.

But as my hands reached for the colorful jar, I felt his gaze return. His eyes were a physical presence, sucking the oxygen out of the room like a fire to burn a blistering hole in the back of my head. I spun around, lungs aching, forgetting how to breathe.

Our eyes met.

Urgency.

His unspoken demand evaporated all the moisture from my mouth. It seared into me like a white hot brand. A black mirage of a head nodded imperceptibly.

Then he stepped back and vanished into the brick wall behind him.

"Wait!" I started after him. "I don't under--"

I woke with a start, forcefully, pushed into consciousness. Dusty air settled into my lungs and cemented the fear in my gut. My eyes blinked at the darkness. I was no longer in the room I had fallen asleep in.

Sleepwalking. I had been sleepwalking. I had never done that before.

What was far worse was where I had ended up. The only light came from the open door at the top of the stairs. But it was enough for me to recognize.

I was in the fucking basement.

[clownbasedintrigue]

nothing like getting a coherent life lesson from an elderly person in a hyper-realistic dream and then immediately waking up in a cold sweat

[paisholotus]

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ OᑎE

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ᵀʳᵘˢᵗ ᴵⁿ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢʰⁱᵖ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

Percy's Pov

We tore through the night along the. dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed on the wind-shield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo.

The smell of a wet barnyard animal.All I could think to say was, "So, you and my mom... know each other?"Grover eye's flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you." "Watching me?" I asked, confused. "Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking about being your friend," he added, hastily. "I am your friend.""Urn ... what are you, exactly?" I asked, cautiously.

That doesn't matter right now."he said, dismissing me. "It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a donkey-" I yelled at him. Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!" I scrunched up my face. I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated sound. "Goat!" he cried. Turning to look at me. "What?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I'm a goat from the waist down." He said, slowly. "You just said it didn't matter." I said. Looking at him suspiciously. "Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!" He yelled, at me offended. My face dropped, as I looked back down at his bottom half. "Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?" I asked, him slowly.

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?" He asked, me mockingly. "So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!" I said, yelling at him. Finally he admits it. "Of course." He says, calmly.

"Then why-" I begin to ask him, but he cuts me off. "The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like it's a normal everyday thing. "We put Mist over the humans eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are." He said, sadly. "Who I-wait a minute, what do you mean?" I asked, him confused. What in the world was going on here? The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

Whatever was happening, it didn't feel good. All these secrets just come out of no where and blow up in my face. My best friend is a goat, I watched my teacher turn into a monster. And there's someone or something chasing us. I felt like I was going to pass out soon.

"Percy," my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety." She said, fearfully. "Safety from what? Who's after me?" I asked, looking out the back window. "Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions." He said, in a matter of fact tone.

"Grover!" Sally yelled, at Grover glaring at him.

"Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?" Grover said, with worry in his voice.

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't a dream. This had to be real. I could never dream up something this weird. My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and 'PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES' signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked, asked for the millionth time. "The summer camp I told you about." My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be

scared. "The place your father wanted to send you." She said, with her voice breaking. "The place you didn't want me to go." I smartly pointed out. "Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger." She said, with urgency.

"Because some old ladies cut yarn." I asked them, still confused. "Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what that means? When they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... when someone's about to die." He said, dangerously low. "Whoa. You said 'you.'" I yelled to him. "No I didn't. I said 'someone.'" He argued back. "You meant 'you.' As in me." I questioned him. "I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you." He huffed. "Boys!" my mom yelled sternly.

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid-a dark

flutter-ing shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked looking out the window This was officially now freaking me out.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please." She quietly begged. I didn't know where there was, but I found myself lean-ing forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leath-ery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She reallyhadn't been human.

She'd meant to kill me.Then I thought about Mr. Brunner ... and the sword he had thrown at me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car

exploded. I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow." I groaned. "Percy!" my mom shouted. "I'm okay... ." I said, slowly in pain.

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in. And Lightning striking the dark sky. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big and emotionless. "Grover!" I yelled. He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're still my best friend and I don't want you to die!

Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope. "Percy," my mother said, "we have to ..." Her voice faltered. I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top

half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is-" I asked, but was cut off by my mom. "Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car." Her face held with fear. My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine, but it was stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were

sizzling and smoking. "Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Percy-you have to run. Do you see that big tree?" She asked me. "What?" I asked her.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant. A huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door." She said, carefully to me. "Mom, you're coming too." I said. Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" I shouted. "You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover." I told her. "Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder. The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands were huge and meaty

Swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big

to be his head ... was his head. And the points that looked like horns ...

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line." She said, solemnly. "But...we don't have time, Percy. Go. Please." She pleaded.

I got mad, then angry at my mother, then at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull. I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Mom."

"I told you-" She started to tell me the same thing about not being able to enter. But being fed up, I didn't want to hear it. I'm not leaving my mother. "Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover." I didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if my mom hadn't come to my aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet wais thigh grass. Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear, I mean bright white Fruit of the Looms-which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary.

Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns-enormous black and white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real. I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's-" I stuttered, getting off again by my mom."Pasiphae's son," my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you."

"But he's the Min-" She cupped my mouth. "Don't say his name," she warned. "Names have power."The pine tree was still way too far-a hundred yards uphill at least. I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the win-dows-or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away."Food?" Grover moaned. "Shhh," I told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?" I asked. "His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough." She said, quietly.

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not even a scratch."Percy," my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?" She asked sternly. "How do you know all this?" I asked her.

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me." She said, looking at me with guilt. "Keeping me near you? But another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill. He'd smelled us.The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us. My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said." She said, running the opposite direction. I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right-it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left and turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest. The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bel-lowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass. We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!" I yelled to the hideous monster.

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.I had an stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment. But it didn't happen like that.The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck. How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out. The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off. "Food!" Grover moaned.The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then-snap! The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock.

When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.The monster charged.Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate-not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart. The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farm-house. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover-I wasn't going to let him go.

The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me,

moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar looking bearded man and a pretty girl. She had long blonde braids, and honey brown eyes.. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, "He's the one. He must be." But she frowned, "should take him to Goddess Clio, he's hurt." She asked the man. He hummed scratching his beard. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside." He said.

I slowly closed my eyes thinking about my mother.

-Time Skip-

Narrative

Chiron and Annabeth helped Grover and the boy into the Cabin. Sat at the large round table was the Sun Goddess and her Daughter. As they sat and watched the two carefully place the boys down. The Sun Goddess stood up and walked over to the three, her daughter close behind.

Selene Elias

"What has become of them?" She inquired of Chiron. The Goddess looked at the two boys with a heavy heart after he told her what he saw. "So the boy's mother was taken or killed?" She asked, sadly. Bending down and touching their brows.

Selene, the Goddesse's daughter, knelt and took the boy's hand in hers. His expression was one of devastation and exhaustion. "Will You help them, mama?" She asked, with concern.

"Of course, my love." Her Mother said, softly. The Sun Goddess placed her hand on the boy's body, her eyes turned gold, and a bright shimmering light emanated from her hand. As the Goddess withdrew her hand, the boy's body glowed brightly, then gradually dimmed.

She went over to Grover, and when she was finished, she stood up. Her daughter was still squeezing the boy's hand. "Let us take them to the infirmary, Annabeth." Chiron told her.

He went over to get Grover, and took him out his Cabin. Annabeth bowed down to pick up the dark-haired boy, and Selene looked at her sad that he was being taken away. "Don't worry, you'll see him tomorrow." Annabeth said, gently.

The sun Goddess took her daughter in her arms and kissed the side of her head. "Are you certain you want to remain here, Darling? Your father could provide you with additional pets to keep you company." Little Selene was playing with her mothers necklace, which her papa had given to her mother.

"You do realize this is a place for half-bloods, don't you? And if you aren't one, this isn't the place for you. " the Sun Goddess, told her daughter. Selene smiled as she looked up at her mother.

"I know mama. But I don't need anymore pets, toys, or presents. I'd like to play with other kids my age. I wanna make friends mama. She said, sincerely. "Okay, my little love." The Sun Goddess said, with a smile and a nod.

After some time Chiron came back in and walked towards the Goddess and her child. "He'll, be fine in the morning. Your help is very much appreciated Clio." She smiled and gave a nod, "I'm glad I could help them, I can tell they've been through much today." Chiron nodded and walked towards the Godly pair, "Are, you sure you want to stay here, Little one." He asked, Selene. Who eagerly nodded, "It's lonely being the only child." She said, giving a toothy grin.

Chiron chuckled and looked to Clio who smiled sweetly at her little girl. "Alright, my flower, if you're going to stay here, you're going to have some guard you at all times, okay? And when you feel like it you can come home anytime. You know how to send for me."

Chiron thanked Clio again as he walked them out. Selene had fallen asleep on her mother's shoulder, as they walked to thalia's tree that kept them all safe. The Sun Goddess smiled softly again at Chiron, and raised her hand into the air letting down a bright gold light around them, that takes them home.

[hotdamnhunnam]

The Pick-Up Line

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of Jax having a big crush on the reader, who is Abel’s daycare teacher, and finally getting his chance with her! This fic is also my next entry for @band--psycho’s Bingo Challenge!

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, good teacher falling for that bad cock, sex in a daycare center but obvi ain’t no kids around when you actually fuck Request: This anon request Bingo Square Filled: “Give me a chance”

Word Count: ~1.8k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

He’s good when he’s looking at you.

Eyes shine a different kind of blue. Blaze bright and new. As if the picture of your face, caught in the mirror of his gaze, colors his world another hue. As if he’s lived his life a lie and suddenly something is true.

Here alone with him now, you think of all the times you had forgotten just how bad he was supposed to be somehow. The countless days he’d ride on through. As if it really was that easy breaking free from all the crime in the rearview. 

Smile so warm, taking his son up in his arms. Sorry for always running late, making you wait. Not knowing you would wait forever till he comes. You’d shoot the shit, for a few minutes—just a few—and you’d feel more connected to this criminal than anyone respectable who’d ever wasted hours boring you out of your mind on a blind date.

Jax wasn’t always as he is. In those blue eyes of his, to you an open book, are written all the roads he never took, and all the chances that he missed. The talk is small; he doesn’t speak of that at all. But bares his soul with just a look. You wonder often just how different it’d have been if you had met before all this. Been young and innocent when you gave him a chance. Saved the last dance. Shared your first kiss.

You reminisce. It never happened yet it feels like in some other life it did, because the dream is so damn vivid, that you may as well have lived it. Any memory is only worth the way it makes you feel. And this feels real. And so it is.

Give me a chance, he’d asked.

You’ll give him more than that. You’ll give him all the chances that he never had. Without a backward glance, you’ll hold his heart within your hands and take him down the many roads he thought he’d passed—take them at last and take them fast—until the good outruns the bad.

Jax came today to pick you up. But he’s the one who’s fallen down, beneath the dead weight of his crown. His broken club. The loss of love that turned his life around. And you don’t need a pick-up line to lift him up off of the ground.

You don’t need anything; his heart is lifting, living just to take the chance you’re giving. Lost for years and now he’s finally fucking found.

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

It just so happens that you’re in a daycare center, in this first real heartfelt moment that you and Jax Teller get to share together. Fucking daycare. Toddler-scrawled sketches adorn the walls and toys are scattered everywhere. Just outside the wide glass window is a little kiddie playground.

Standing right beside a table where you teach these little kids including Abel and it’s maybe not the best surface for Jax to claim your cunt as his to pound—

The raspy rumble of his voice cuts in, all of a sudden; you almost let out a slutty little whimper at the sound. “Guess this is when I ask to take you out to dinner?”

Swoon. He’s still all anxious and uneasy like you’re not already wrapped around his finger. Like you’re not already ruined. Still has no clue what he’s doing. He’s so cute it’s fucking rude but all the thoughts you’re having are so fucking lewd and you’re a total fucking sinner... 

“So is that a yes?” again he interrupts your train of thought, because you haven’t said a word after he poured his nervous heart out of his chest. Of course this piece of shit can take a wild guess. He’s usually too confident to ask for reassurances, and yet with you he’s not. “Or something else getting you hot?”

Ugh God. You’re too aroused to even nod. Even when he’s so shy around you, Jax is still a cocky son of a bitch too. The smug smirk tugging on his sinfully pink lips has your guts tangled up in knots. You’re struggling to summon all the little self-restraint you’ve got.

You want to grab his kutte and beg this man to fuck you like a slut but not when you’re surrounded by a sea of toys for tots.

“Why don’t you take me to your office,” Jax suggests, reading your mind as if your thought process is so painfully obvious. It probably is. “Away from all of... this.”

Oh. Oh yes, that would be best. You should’ve thought of that before. You were too busy heavy breathing like a whore. Still riding high off of the feelings he’d confessed. “Y-yes!”

He made you stutter, and that makes the motherfucker smile smooth and slick as butter. “Oh, she speaks,” he chuckles.

Fuck, you’re weak. He catches you as your knees buckle.

And the touch of those big hands against your sides through the thin fabric of your dress has you a motherfucking mess.

Now he can tell exactly how badly you want him and he doesn’t have to guess. Just like your heart your body screams a wild yes.

Thankfully your office is close by and the door is open; Jax quickly flings it shut behind him as you guide him in and shove him up against the wall because you need to have him right this fucking moment. Crash your lips hard against his. Both seeing stars at the first kiss. It’s even more than you were hoping.

Through the fireworks, your breath escapes you in a downright pornographic moan of bliss, and you can feel his luscious lips curve in a smirk. Ugh, what a cocky little jerk.

He’s getting off on the effect that he so clearly has on you and you wish you could hate this idiot for being such an asshole. But you don’t hate it at all. You love the way you’re falling hard ‘cause you know he’ll be there to catch you when you fall.

As heavenly as it feels with your body pressing his into the wall, true heaven would be in submitting to this man so beautiful and big and tall. Jax really digs the fact that you made the first move and took control. But he can read your mind and all your body’s signals; he can tell for you that level of aggression is unusual.

Knows you’d rather have him use you as his filthy little fuckdoll.

So, next thing you know, you’re spread out on your office desk, and Jax Teller is literally ripping off your dress. You hear it rip; that’s how he strips. Fabric in shreds. Surely instead, he could’ve simply pushed it up your hips, to reach into your wetness. Could’ve pulled it down your shoulders to get his hands on your breasts. He could’ve done a lot of things, but he’s a motherfucking monster of a king, and this is how he does it best.

He’s just as quick with your lace underwear and bra because he needs you all undressed. It’s really not fair that you’re naked now while he’s still in his jeans and tee and hoodie and that goddamn leather vest. The kutte is hot as hell, a whole kink in itself, but you’ve spent countless nights alone dreaming of witnessing his godliness. Having him here with you clothed like this is torture to be honest—

Yet as ever Jackson Teller reads your mind and in a few seconds his leather and his other layers end up on the floor, his icy blue gaze locked on yours, now as you finally set your eyes upon the bare skin of his broad shoulders and chiseled abs and sculpted chest...

This absolute god of a man standing before you—you cannot believe he has it bad for you. For such a while he’s been harboring a big huge crush on you and now at last he is about to fuck you and you’ve never felt so blessed.

Jax bends down over you to kiss your parted lips, the both of you so breathless. One of his hands works his belt and jeans to slide them down his hips, grinding his denim-covered crotch against your pussy as it drips; his other hand squeezes the soft flesh of your tits in an affectionate caress. 

Yes, there’s affection even in the midst of all of this aggression. Tenderness to all the tension. Purity powering through this primal passion.

You’re so much more than just another fuck for Jackson. Sure, there’s that feral attraction. But he sees far past the surface, just as you have always seen through his; he wants to fucking do this. You deserve this, nothing less. Having you gives him hope of some kind of a chance at happiness, and even if he only ever gets a fraction... even that’s more than he’d ever dreamt of asking. More than enough, ‘cause he can see himself falling in fucking love, and every second in your presence is perfection.

Jax is perfection to you too—you see your future in that gaze of blazing blue—you really do—but right now all that you can think about is how you want to build your whole damn future on his huge fucking erection.

He’s still passionately kissing you; you want him to continue. Yet now that his cock has been set free from his jeans, you feel the length and girth of it against your skin and it’s obscene. You can’t survive another instant on this earth without that massive dick in you.

You want to suck it and he wants to eat you out. Thankfully you can spend the rest of your lives going down on one another every night, but now you simply need to fuck it and your man is here to give it to you right, no fucking doubt.

He pulls back from the kiss for just a second now to catch his breath. Align the head of his dick with your soaking wetness, just before he rails your juicy cunt to death. Seeking your wide eyes for that sacred yes. No hope of speaking when you’re such a fucking mess. Your hands have found your way down to the firm globes of his ass to pull him in right where you want him so he doesn’t have to guess.

And when he enters—when he enters—hoooly fuck it feels like all the host of heaven and the heat of hell at once have come to bless and curse this humble little daycare center.

Your fate is sealed then as a fucking whore for Jax Teller and you will gladly fill this role forever. Hope and pray that you’ll be spending all your fucking lives together.

The sex—the love—it fucking wrecks, the way it’s rough and yet so soft. So good it’s bad. The best and worst you’ve ever had.

He didn’t need a line to pick you up at all. The hope of love, sent from the fucking stars above, lifts you both up higher the harder that you fall.

The hope of love... and the hope of spending forever with Jax Teller as his filthy little fuckdoll.

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

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did!! 🤗❤️

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[cherienymphe]

Fallen Angels (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Bucky, mentions of kidnapping, NON-CON, trusting reader

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

This takes place in the same universe as Protect & Serve. You don’t need to read Protect & Serve to follow along as this takes place before Protect & Serve

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  Bucky thinks you’re the sweetest thing to grace this earth, and he’ll do the unspeakable to get what he wants

~

You heaved another sigh as you made your way up the steps to the police station. It was warm out, a soft breeze ruffling the bottom of your dress. The sun beat down on your face, making you squint, the heat only adding to your annoyance. You didn’t even know why you got annoyed anymore. It wasn’t as if this was exactly new for you.

“Y/N!”

You threw the woman behind the counter a small strained smile, shoulders sagging as you approached her.

“Hi, Jane,” you sadly said. “I’m here for my sister.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, nodding while returning your strained smile.

“Of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away as she disappeared into the back. You swallowed, briefly reaching up to rub your forehead and resisted the urge to a sigh again. You couldn’t believe that you had to leave work yet again to come and deal with your sister’s neverending drama. 

You turned as soon as you heard a door open, watching a familiar face bring another familiar face into the room, his large frame making her look small. Officer Barnes greeted you with his usual smile while you returned it with a sheepish one. How many times had you watched him carry her through that door? How many times had you felt sheer embarrassment at her behavior? 

“Where was she?” you quietly asked.

“Stumbling through the park,” he said with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you breathed, genuinely meaning it. “I can never thank you enough.”

How many times had you thanked him?

“Hey,” your sister slurred, eyes bleary as she struggled in his firm hold, legs trembling. “Don’t talk about me...like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, and she rolled her eyes, head falling back.

You reached for her, but Officer Barnes shook his head.

“Let me help her to your car. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

You started to argue, but decided against it and swallowed your words. You led him outside, the mumblings of your drunk sister reaching your ears. He was gentle as he placed her into the passenger seat, and you frowned at her as she laid her head on the dashboard.

“Really, thank you,” you said, looking to him as soon as he shut the door.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against your car as he gazed at you with a look you couldn’t place. He did that a lot.

“I can’t keep letting her off the hook forever, you know,” he told you, making your heart drop.

You knew that. You had known it for a while, probably since the second time. You didn’t know why Officer Barnes, and the station by extension, always let your sister off easy every time she was found drunk somewhere, but you were grateful nonetheless. You couldn’t keep taking advantage of his generosity though.

“How is Officer Wilson?” you asked, changing the subject.

The blue-eyed man smirked at the mention of his roommate and colleague.

“Still as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” he answered, making you chuckle.

“You know, as much as you insult him, I think you’d really miss him if something ever happened to him,” you said with a grin.

Officer Barnes joined you, eventually nodding with a smile of his own.

“You’re probably right. He’s still a pain though,” he agreed, walking with you to your side of the car.

You paused when you placed your hand on the door, swallowing with your eyes to the ground before looking to him again. You really couldn’t appreciate him enough, but like he said, you knew he couldn’t continue to let your sister off of the hook.

“I really hope this will be the last time,” you whispered.

Officer Barnes frowned, dark brows lowering as he heaved a sigh, sounding as tired as you felt.

“Did you ever think…”

He paused, shifting on his feet before continuing.

“Maybe a few days in jail will do her some good. I mean, what kind of lesson can she learn if you keep bailing her out?”

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t considered it, but you sadly shook your head.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s family,” you quietly replied.

He studied you for a bit before nodding, running his eyes over you with a soft hum.

“No, of course not. You’re too sweet for that,” he said.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so you simply thanked him again and said your goodbyes. He didn’t move as you got in and drove off, his stare piercing your rearview mirror until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

When you finally arrived home, your sister was barely able to stand at all. You got her as far as the living room before your arms gave out, depositing her onto the couch. After placing a small trash can beside her, you went into the kitchen to make some coffee and put together a little hangover concoction that you’d been using for years.

As she slept off the alcohol, you couldn’t help but to think about Officer Barnes’ words. Not just him admitting that this couldn’t go on forever, something you already knew, but his proposal to let your sister spend a few nights in jail. You had thought about it. That wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t think it’d do any good. It wasn’t that simple. Your sister needed professional help.

You wondered if you could get Officer Barnes or even Officer Wilson to help you out with that. You didn’t think that your sister would react too kindly to an intervention. You suddenly shook your head, telling yourself that you needed to stop relying on them so much. Especially Officer Barnes. 

You’d known them both for years, ever since they moved to the city during your 3rd year of college. They’d been mere officers in training then. You remembered even having a slight crush on Officer Wilson, but that had died the minute they found your sister the first time, wandering around the city drunk and belligerent. You had been so embarrassed, telling yourself that no one in their right mind would get mixed up with a family like yours, no matter how small it was.

Officer Barnes was always the one to find her. He never judged her nor did he ever hint that he was even thinking any kind of negative thoughts. He’d always been much nicer than either of you deserved, and you mentally reminded yourself to bake him some cookies. You suspected that his love for your food was the main reason he let your sister off the hook time and time again.

It was hours later, when you were taking the fresh cookies out of the oven, when you heard your sister stir. You turned just as she stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to open her eyes. You grabbed her a cup.

“I made coffee. It’s not as fresh as I would like it to be but…”

You trailed off, handing it to her. Her eyes were wide open now, and she gratefully took it, gulping it down.

“Thank you,” she breathed as soon as she was done.

The silence was awkward, and the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. It was an odd picture.

“So,” you started, playing with your fingers. “What was it this time?”

Your sister heaved a sigh, setting her mug down as she leaned against the counter.

“I got fired today.”

Your face fell, shoulders dropping as sympathy tore through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it.

“Don’t be. It beats sleeping with my decrepit former boss,” she scoffed.

Your eyes widened as you registered the implication behind her words, and your heart clenched. You stepped towards her, reaching out.

“Are you serious? T, we should tell someone. File a lawsuit or something-.”

Her laugh cut you off, and you frowned at her.

“Have you met the guy? He has more money than either of us could ever dream of. It’d be a waste of time,” she sneered.

You shook your head.

“You don’t know that. You’re probably not the only woman he’s done this to. I’m sure with the right lawyer-.”

“This is the real world, Y/N? Where those in power take advantage of the rest of us as they see fit,” she told you, making your frown deepen.

Your bit your lip, not exactly agreeing with her but opting to swallow your words. You watched as she neared the pan of cooling cookies and ran her eyes over them with a light scoff.

“Who is this for? Officer Barnes?” she mockingly wondered, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, actually,” you said, ignoring her tone and reaching to get a plate. “Do you want one?”

“You should really stay away from him, you know.”

“Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you keep getting arrested for public intoxication,” you threw back.

You immediately cringed, turning to face her, surprised to find not an offended look on her face, but merely a shocked one. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… He’s a nice man, T. A good man. Much more than we deserve. Anyone else would have put you before a judge a long time ago.”

She chuckled, reaching past you to grab a cookie.

“Gee, I wonder why that is.”

Her tone confused you, and she shook her head at you.

“The guy’s a creep. No amount of friendly smiles can hide that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

You frowned at her words before shaking your head and sliding the cookies onto a plate.

A week later, you were thankful that your sister seemed to be doing better. Normally she needed a month to really get herself together to at least try and get back on her feet again, but her uncharacteristic behavior both shocked you and made you proud. However, when your doorbell rang at almost 1 in the morning, you realized that you had spoken too soon.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

You had swung the door open and come face to face with none other than Officer Barnes and your sister, the latter almost keeled over. She would have been face first into the ground if it wasn’t for the man holding her up.

“Her room is this way,” you told him as soon as you let him in.

She mumbled a few times as he followed your lead, quieting altogether when he placed her on her bed. He made sure that she was on her side, and you heaved a tired sigh as he followed you down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you.

You turned to face him, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, much quieter this time.

Officer Barnes just stared at you, brows drawn together as he rubbed your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

“It’s okay-.”

“No, it’s not. I really...I really thought this time would be different. I did.”

“I know you did-.”

“...and there are actual criminals out there who need to be dealt with but instead you’re here dealing with me and my sister again.”

You placed your hands over your face as your voice cracked, and your shoulders trembled as you held in all of the emotions threatening to spill.

“God, all of the cookies in the world can’t make up for what we put you through,” you sighed.

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you looked away from him.

“Hey…”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he let go of one of your hands to place it under your chin. He made you look at him, and his blue eyes searched your face as he smiled at you.

“This is my job. I’m not going out of my way to do anything here, okay? It’s okay.”

You reluctantly nodded before your eyes found the floor again.

“She needs help,” you said, finally admitting it outloud. “Professional help. The 12 steps kind.”

There was a brief silence before the dark-haired man spoke.

“I can help with that, get her into some meetings,” he offered.

“Would you? I...I didn’t want to ask because you do so much for us already, but…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head at you with a slight frown.

“Now, Y/N… How long have I known you and your sister? I’m always happy to help you two out in any way I can. You know that,” he told you, lips quirking up just a tad. 

“More than we deserve,” you murmured

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but you continued before he could. 

“Do you want something to drink before you go? I usually make her some coffee,” you offered.

His smile widened as he looked at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t name.

“I’d love to.” 

His steps were light as he followed you into the kitchen, and you wondered if his stealth was just part of the job or if he was always that way. He didn’t say much as you moved throughout the kitchen, opting instead to watch you as you turned on the coffee pot.

“I think I have some leftovers from last night,” you told him.

“I’d love some.”

As you made to fix him some food to take with him, you found yourself humming a bit, a habit. So immersed in your tasks, you’d almost forgotten that he was there until he spoke again.

“You’re going to make some man a very happy husband one day.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder.

“You sound like my dad,” you complained, thinking of the man who you hadn’t seen in years.

“A harmless compliment, I promise. You’re just so sweet...and you can cook better than any chef in the city,” he elaborated.

“Well, we’ll see what the future holds,” was all you said as you handed him a container of food.

You moved to get his coffee for him when he spoke again.

“Any man would be crazy not to snatch you up and beg you to have his children,” he said with a chuckle.

You joined him, shrugging as you handed him a to-go cup full of steaming coffee.

“That would be nice, but I can’t have kids,” you said.

Officer Barnes’ smile fell, eyes widening just a bit as he blinked. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve dropped his coffee.

“What?” he murmured.

You shrugged again, throwing him a small smile.

“I can’t have kids.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to say, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you told him, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m not bothered by it anymore. I used to be, but… I figured that some people just aren’t meant to have children, and that’s ok.”

You turned away from him, moving to clean up your mess. You could still feel his eyes on you.

“It’s why I work at a nursery. I love it, and sometimes I think to myself that if I had children of my own, I wouldn’t have time for the dozens I see every day.”

You leaned your back against the counter, facing him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I like to believe that everything happens for a reason.”

Officer Barnes smirked at you, a light chuckle escaping him, face pinched as if he was thinking hard about what you said, dark hair curling around his ear.

“That’s a nice way of looking at things.”

You shrugged, leading him to the door.

“My sister doesn’t exactly share my sentiments, so it’s nice to hear that you do,” you confessed, opening the door for him. “Thank you again, Officer Barnes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“How many times must I tell you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with a groan. “Bucky. It’s a force of habit.”

“Well, I’m kindly asking you to kick it,” he lightly replied as he stepped outside.

“Drive safe.”

He paused, blinking at you before nodding.

“I will, and I’ll talk to someone about getting your sister into some meetings.”

You waved him off, a slight frown overtaking as you heard your sister retching from down the hall. With a sigh, you closed the door and turned to go tend to her like you always did.

The weeks that followed were better, the best you’d had in a long time. True to his word, Bucky got information on some meetings, and surprisingly, your sister agreed that she needed more help than you alone could provide. You drove her to, and picked her up, from every one. You’d always felt like the older sister despite the opposite being true, but it was glaring now more than ever.

Her behavior was improving, and you constantly prayed that it would last. You knew that recovery wasn’t always a smooth journey, plenty of people relapsing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for your sister. She had gotten another job, was keeping up with her meetings, and hadn’t even looked at a bottle of alcohol in weeks. She was just her normal cynical self...until she wasn’t.

You tapped your finger on the steering wheel, watching as the last person left the building. You waited a few moments, hoping that she would be the last person, but she never came out. Hurriedly stepping out of your car, you made your way to someone who hadn’t driven off yet. You could tell that you had startled them by knocking on their window, and you apologized the minute they cracked it. You asked them if your sister was still inside, and your heart sank at their answer.

“She never showed up.”

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered their words. Unsure of how to respond, you simply took a step back, allowing them to drive off. It was late in the evening, and the parking lot was now empty, and you felt helpless as you looked around, as if waiting for your sister to appear.

She had never showed up?

You had dropped her off yourself. You had seen her walk into the building with your own eyes. You wondered if something had happened, something to send her over the edge again, and with a heavy heart, you got back into your car and headed home. You waited up most of the night, expecting a call from the police station or even a knock on your door, but your phone never rang and your door was undisturbed. You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Your notifications were just as empty when you woke up the next morning, and your stomach churned as you sat there alone. You had the most awful feeling in your gut, and despite the fact that this should seem like a normal act for your sister, you couldn’t help but feeling like it wasn’t.

Later that day, you drove to the police station. For someone who swore not to rely on Bucky as much anymore, you were doing a poor job of it. He was happy to see you, and that made you feel even worse. Bucky was always happy to help you, and you constantly felt like you were taking advantage of it.

Your worry must have been written on your face though because his smile soon fell. He walked you outside of the station, and you quietly followed.

“It’s my sister,” you immediately said. “She’s missing.”

He eyed you for a bit, eyes narrowing just a tad as he thought. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure?”

You knew what he wasn’t saying. Your sister wasn’t exactly the most reliable, and absences weren’t unusual for her. He was right to be skeptical.

“They said she never showed up at her meeting. I dropped her off myself, and even if she wasn’t really going, she’d at least pretend like she was. She wouldn’t want me to worry and...and that’s all I seem to be doing,” you murmured.

Bucky placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them as he attempted to console you.

“Alright. Have you called her?”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” you told him. “She can never keep a job long enough to.”

He nodded at that.

“I know that for adults, they need to be missing for at least 48 hours to be treated as a missing persons case. I know that, but…”

You trailed off, and Bucky understood, nodding.

“Hey?”

Your eyes met his, and he sent you a small smile.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m going to find her, alright?”

You gave a shaky nod. He told you to go home and let him handle everything. And thats what you did. The house felt too quiet, and uncomfortable, you started cleaning and cooking. In the midst of all of that, you called your father to tell him what was going on, but it was in vain. As usual, he didn’t answer his phone, and you found yourself wondering if your family was cursed. Your father was too indifferent, your sister too cynical, and you were too nice.

Despite the fact that you felt like you shouldn’t, you went to work. Was it to distract yourself? Oh definitely, but what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t worry until the 4th day had passed and you’d heard nothing from Bucky. He said that he would handle everything, and you trusted him, but you were tempted to go back to the station. However, a knock came on your door one night before you could.

You knew it was him, and you didn’t hesitate to open the door.

“Well?” you anxiously asked, letting him inside.

Bucky’s face was solemn, and you feared the worst, but he simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he sadly told you.

Your frown deepened, and you frantically blinked away tears.

“Hey,” he quietly said. ‘Hey, none of that, doll.”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe I pushed her too soon. Maybe-.”

“...and maybe it was all her and had nothing to do with you,” he said, lips pressed together as he looked at you.

You slowly nodded at what he said, not quite believing it.

“Maybe,” you murmured, turning away. “I feel like I should be out there, doing something.”

You heard Bucky approach you, and he tsk’d. 

“No, absolutely not. This city is dangerous, and I can’t look for her properly if I’m worrying about you, now can I?” he said, hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his soft expression, his baby blues resting on you. You reluctantly shook your head.

“No, I can’t. So the best thing for you to do is sit tight while I try to find your sister.”

“It’s hard. The house...it’s so quiet now. It’s so obvious that she isn’t here, and I hate it,” you whispered. “I’ve never lived alone.”

He hummed, glancing around.

“I don’t have to leave right away. My shift is over, and I could stick around for as long as you want,” he offered, making your heart soar.

“You would do that? I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep me company.”

He grinned at you.

“Never. You just kick me out whenever you get tired of me,” he told you.

You didn’t kick him out. Bucky slept on your couch that night and the night after that and the night after that. His presence was welcoming, comforting, and you found yourself growing used to it. Having known Bucky for years, it was easy to get into a familiar groove with him. He started occupying your couch more and more, and feeling so bad about inconveniencing him all because you couldn’t handle being alone, you usually cooked him breakfast before he had to go to work. 

When he wasn’t at work looking for your sister, he was at home with you. Sometimes he cooked with you, or sometimes he fixed something that had been broken for months. He made missing your sister a little easier. You had faith that he would find her, that he’d bring her through that door, drunk and on the verge of sleep like before.

Still, sometimes, you couldn’t help the dark thoughts that assaulted your mind. What if she never came through that door? What if he never found her? Or worse… What if he did? What if he found her in a ditch somewhere, body maimed and ruined from being dead for so long? Despite how much you tried to remain positive, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise, what if she was gone? 

This was what woke you up out of your sleep one night, on the verge of a panic attack. Your breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused as you fought to calm yourself. You were startled, a shriek leaving you as you felt something brush your arm. Light flooded your room, and your eyes immediately met Bucky’s as he stood beside your bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, doll,” he whispered, kneeling beside you. “ I could hear you all the way in the living room.”

“Sorry,” you weakly said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting beside you, facing you as he pulled you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that you were shaking, and Bucky tightened his arms around you.

“What if she’s never coming back? What if she’s dead?” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, rocking you. “Don’t think the worst.”

“But-.”

He shushed you, cutting you off, and you couldn’t fight the tears as they spilled over. His hand brushed over your back, and you closed your eyes as he held you, not taking note of what was happening until his lips met yours. Your eyes flew open as confusion filled you.

You struggled to pull away, but Bucky’s hold was firm. His mouth moved over yours, and your eyes were wide as he kissed you. He only pulled away when you struggled to breathe, and you pressed your hands to his chest immediately.

“Bucky what-?”

“It’s alright. Let me make you feel better. Help you forget,” he murmured, leaning in again, but you turned away.

“No!”

You got out of his grip, scooting back against the headboard, looking at him as if he was a stranger. Bucky was frowning at you like you were in the wrong, and your mind was muddled with so many conflicting thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes at you like you had offended him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You smile and bat those eyelashes at me-.”

“I-.”

“You invite me into your home. You allow me to stay for as long as I want. You cook me breakfast, hell, we cook together like an old married couple. Are you telling me you intended to just play house forever?”

You were floored, and you flinched as you remembered your sister’s constant words, telling you that you were too nice, too trusting. You stared at Bucky, and you felt like an idiot. More tears sprung forth, and you dug your nails into the palm of your hands. 

“Bucky I…”

You looked down, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that...that there was more to this, but that was never my intention. I’m really sorry.”

You heard him heave a long sigh, shrinking in on yourself as he moved closer to you.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

You looked up at him, and he reached out to touch your chin. The blue of his eyes was a tad darker, colder than you’d ever seen them. 

“I keep forgetting how sweet you are. Too sweet. It’s my fault really, but let me explain how things will work from now on, just so there’s no confusion…”

Your brows drew together, dread swirling in your chest.

“You treat me nice, you be as sweet to me as you always are, and I’ll do everything in my power to find your sister. You don’t...and it’s classified as a simple runaway case.”

You sharply inhaled, mouth dropping open as you registered his words.

“What-?”

“Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond, pressing his lips to yours again. Your mind was screaming at you to do something, to fight him, get out and go get help. But what if he was telling the truth? Would he really give up on finding your sister if you didn’t sleep with him? Besides, even if you could get away, who could you go to for help? The police was currently pushing you onto your back, lips tasting every inch of you.

Still, you couldn’t help but to fight against him, and Bucky huffed. He paid your trembling hands no mind as he pushed your t-shirt up, fingers trailing over your skin as he did so. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You almost felt like you were looking down on yourself as he undressed, and you barely fought him as he did the same to you. Your breathing was shallow, and you were certain that you were going to pass out.

“Bucky,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

He simply lowered himself, attaching his mouth to you, making you forget your train of thought for a second. He was like a man starved, tasting you until he was more than satisfied. You hadn’t had sex many times, the few times you did it was great, but this surpassed all of those times, something you never thought possible.

Your legs trembled around him, toes curling, and you reached down to press your hands against his head, trying and failing to push him away. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding them in place while he had his fill of you. Your chest arched upwards, and one of your hands pressed against the headboard, attempting to ground yourself, but Bucky seemed determined to make your head spin.

“Bucky, stop,” you begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Your next words were lost, the only thing climbing out of your throat being a moan. You tried your best to swallow it down as you came, but Bucky’s tongue and mouth didn’t rest, lapping up your juices as you clenched around the pink muscle. You were still coming down when he climbed over you, and you opened your mouth to stop him, beg him, but he pushed into you without warning. 

A gasp escaped you, a groan of his own leaving Bucky as he immediately began to thrust into you. You placed your hands on his chest, lips trembling as he slid into you over and over again. He kissed you again, taking you by surprise, and you stared up at him in something akin to disbelief.

How did you get here? Bucky was your friend, and somehow, here he was on top of you, forcing pleasure onto you that you never asked for.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“Bucky,” you quietly begged.

“I always knew you’d be sweet in bed, making the cutest little noises, all soft skin and soft smiles.”

His words confused you, and it occurred to you that this behavior did not come out of nowhere.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to take you in the back of my cruiser, right there in the station, but you deserved better. You deserved to be kissed like a princess in between your sheets-.”

“Stop,” you begged. 

You wanted him to stop talking. You didn’t want to face how unbelievably stupid and trusting you had been. It hurt too much. He pressed his hips against yours again, his thick cock dragging along your slick walls.

“Your sister wasn’t good for you, doll.”

Your eyes widened as they met his, his brows furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat on his forehead as his hair hung over his face.

“She was nothing but trouble, always bringing nothing but her problems into your life. You were far too nice to do anything about it...so I did,” he told you, not a hint of humor in his blue eyes.

A horrified gasp escaped you, and you continued your struggle. You felt like you’d been punched in the chest, and your vision was completely blurry from your tears now. You were full on sobbing, but Bucky paid it no mind as he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down above your head. Every thrust was a brush against that little bundle of nerves, and you felt yourself clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he purred. “Come around my cock.”

“No, no, no,” you cried, bucking against him, but only making it worse for you.

Your second climax crashed over you like a wave, and like you were drowning, you struggled to breathe. Bucky’s lips felt like they were everywhere, and soon after, you felt him twitch inside of you, coating your walls as he came too. You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the walls of your room closing in.

“I’m the only one who knows where your sister is,” he murmured after catching his breath. “I’m the only one who knows if she’s even okay.”

Your chest was heaving, and you kept thinking to yourself that not enough air was getting in. Bucky wiped the sweat from your hairline, running his eyes over your spent frame as he caged you in even further.

“So if you want to see her again, you know what you need to do.”

The world finally caved in on you.

Even though you couldn’t have kids, it seemed like Bucky was determined to try. Or maybe he just couldn’t get enough of you. Despite the fact that he had a place of his own, he spent all of his free time at your house. His hands never strayed from you, and it seemed like he was kissing you any chance he got. At night, and sometimes in the morning, he enjoyed the feel of you wrapped around him, milking him as he groaned in your ear.

And what could you do but let him? Now knowing the truth, you wondered if you ever knew Bucky at all. How was it possible to hide one’s true self for years? Constantly? You remembered your sister’s last words about him, calling him a creep, and you wondered if he was that good or if you were simply that trusting? 

He acted as if you were a normal couple. He cooked with you, ate with you, watched tv with you, and even bathed with you. Bucky brought you flowers and gifts and pretty dresses he thought you’d look good in. Every time, you thanked him with a smile and could do nothing but accept it as he undressed you. Every time you asked about your sister, every time you built up the courage to, he always dodged the question, and you wondered how long this would go on.

As it turns out, not long at all.

He came to the house one day, angry and frantic and his eyes were searching for you. The minute he spotted you, he pounced. He was rougher than he had ever been, pinning you to the wall as he thrust into you, hand fisting your hair while the other pressed his fingers into your thigh. You felt like he was going to break you, but Bucky paid no mind to your tears. 

You had made your way to the floor when he finally came inside of you, sweaty and angry and gripping you like he’d lose you. You were trembling in his arms when he lifted his head, and you stared at him like he was going to hurt you some more. You watched as he swallowed, running his eyes over you as he reached up to brush his thumb along your lip.

“Sam and I gotta leave,” he breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning.

“It’s all so sudden, but they found some things, and we have to leave.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you stared at him in confusion.

“...but when it’s safe, I’m coming back for you,” he told you, making your heart sink.

“B-Bucky...my-.”

“You want to see her again, don’t you?”

You nodded, and he nodded with you. 

“Okay. Then you’ll wait for me. You don’t tell anybody what you know, and you wait for me. Tell me.”

Scared to say anything else, and scared that you’d never see your sister again, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered through trembling lips..

He kissed you, and that was the last time he kissed you for a long time. You didn’t know how many years had passed. 4? 5? 6? You couldn’t keep track and they all blended together. With Bucky gone, you felt more alone than you ever had before. Had your body grown used to his? Grown to crave his even? The man was your rapist. Was that normal?

The house was too painful for you to remain in, so you moved a couple of blocks over. Every day that passed, you wondered how your sister was doing. You wondered where she was. Some days you missed her more than others, and some days you were angry. Why couldn’t she have told you outright what Bucky was like. Surely, she must have known, known better than you.

Some days you were angry at Bucky, and on more than one occasion, you had even been tempted to tell someone what you knew. You hated him for what he did to you, what he’d done to your sister, putting you both through torment. Most days though, you were just angry with yourself. You felt like you deserved some blame in all of this, for being so naive, so trusting, for having faith in everyone until they proved otherwise. 

Work only distracted you for a short time, and the lonely nights came quicker than you liked. Provided that you were able to find sleep, it was normally after a crying fit. It all felt like a strange sort of limbo, and you wondered how long you were meant to endure it. You started to think that Bucky would never come back, you’d never see your sister again, and once again, you’d be an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did you have?

It was one early morning, the sun still yet to rise, when there was a knock on your door. You were riddled with sleep and practically stumbling to the door, but when you opened it, all of your fatigue was gone. Your wide eyes met familiar blue ones, and you felt like the air was sucked out of you.

His hair was shorter, but he otherwise looked the same. He was dressed darkly, as bulky as ever, and you took a step back when he took a step forward. An unfamiliar car was behind him, and you squinted, recognizing Officer Wilson in the passenger seat. Your eyes fell to Bucky again, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Hi, doll.”

~

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