#man who knew this one might wrack up trigger warnings

[nomsfaultau]

Daily ask №29!

Murder edition!

I was bored so here's my attempts at figuring out the fastest and easiest way to murder or disable the fault crew. And you can give me the chances of that actually working and what would your best bet be at killing them?

1. The first one is Phil cause he's the easiest one. I'm just gonna show him the fic and your shitposts and have him turn into words. Also I specifically do that in some isolated (as in no cracks and only one entrance) barn or something like that. And I also put some pine needles in the room and light them on fire. You'll see why.

2. The second problem would be Tubbo since they would absolutely already know about me turning Phil to words. Luckily they're a pacifist. I'm not sure how far that pacifism goes exactly, but if I pretend that I turned Phil to words on accident, I'd probably get at least some time. I pretend that it was an accident and run to Tubbo like omg what happened help. And lead them to the barn. In the barn, the pine needles already produced a shit ton of smoke. So I then go ahead and say that Phil is in there and then close the door behind Tubbo, and then light the barn on fire. Even if some bees do escape, the main body would be gone.

3. Wilbur. I do not remember how his connection to the void works exactly, but I also haven't said that I have to keep the world from being destroyed so I'd just probably give the void access to the real world. Which would probably destroy both worlds, actually. I wonder if that counts as killing the whole fault crew or not.

4. Tommy. I shoot him. Like, he's not that dangerous. Not really. I don't gotta touch him to kill him. Or, ideally, I shoot him with the neutralising dart and use him to defeat the Blade.

5. The Blade. Sigh. My only ideas on how to kill him include just not being seen. At all. So that he doesn't even know who's doing the thing. You can't fight someone if there's noone to fight or challenge. The plan is to kidnap Tommy and get him into some metal container on the bottom of the ocean. And then cause him to summon The Blade in one way or another. (Ex. Drug him with some bad mix of drugs causing great distress and fear, insert speakers into the metal box, potentially actually have someone lethal there with him.). The Blade would most likely just tear the walls of the container apart. That would be a mistake. Did you know that some boars can hold their breath up to 20 seconds? Yeah that ain't nearly long enough so technically he'd just doom both himself and Tommy. And also infect the ocean with the red so that's fun.

I enjoyed thinking and strategizing about this more than I thought I would. Concerning.

Had a great time with this one, an invited a special guest to add his insight.

1.Ah trying to safeguard against Tubbo I see. However, while I rag on Philza, I think just handing him a blog would not have the concrete proof enough to believe his entire existence isn’t real. He’s the most mentally stable of the group, and much like when someone is confronted with a conspiracy theorist talking about how reality is an illusion and we live in a simulation, Phil would just roll his eyes and move on with his day. The fic would un-nerve him a bit…but this is a world with anomalies. There’s a thousand possible explanations for someone with partial omniscient (say, Tubbo), and though I think the chapters from his perspective would very much creep him out, Philza is DEFINITELY not making that far into the fic before he sets it down and goes to figure out if Tommy is okay. He might not entirely believe the fic reflects real experiences and thoughts, but he will investigate it, and then will be way too busy dad-moding to die. 

What I would try: I think the fastest way to kill Philza is to grab one Wilbur and Redify it, as seen in Fault Whumptober prompt 5. Philza physically can’t fight back, and ultimately is assuming even if he dies he’ll reform in a few minutes. Only, Wilbur can devour conceptual souls and gain power, so chomp chomp lizard boi! 

Problems: Philza just simply leaving, waiting for the Red to wear off, though he may be trying to protect the others. Bathe everything in godflame and scooping up wilbur in dragon mode and just leave, not minding that his hand is getting eaten. When mentally stable he usually needs time to become a dragon though, so that might not work. 

What my partner would try: Amnestics! Force him to forget his beef with the Foundation, then introduce him to a new Foundation Approved™ family. Then one week systematically have all important people in his life leave/say they hate him in rapid succession until he takes so much emotional damage that pure angst murders him, since he takes psychic damage literally. Okay on second thought you pump Phil full of amnestics to erase all of human history to revert him back to a non-person. Like he went insane after only 15-25 years erased but im suuuure you can do it. In 5 year increments. Okay maybe just have him snort Ranboo like cocaine. The Foundation is sure to nail it this time. Then kill him and have the Dovahkiin absorb his soul (me: how do you kill dragon or true form Phil) don’t worrryyy bout it.

2.Assuming step 1 worked….hell no they don’t believe it was an accident. Tubbo could’ve been reading over Phil’s shoulder and knows that what you gave him melted that sucker’s brain, even on accident, so there is absolutely zero trust. None whatsoever. But they aren’t going to attack you about it; actually they will give you a bee high five for killing Phil, even if they disprove of the whole murder thing. They would also see the smoke that you made in the barn, or try to go in and fall asleep so know that way that it’s super duper a trap. Especially since they’d have no reason to go to Phil, since there’s like not a lot that can be done for a pile of words. Tubbo just flies up like 6 feet to stand over your head and give a whole spiel about murder bad. 

What I would try: Pesticide BABYYYYYYY. Specifically consumable, since things that are consumed are shared with the rest of the Hive. I think the first time a trick would work but past that they’d be hella cautious. But enough constant exposure could really strip down the population. As numbers dwindled they’d get more concentrated at the body since they need a set amount of bees to carry it, and just carpet bombing the area with pesticide and smoke bombs would…still likely not kill all of Tubbo, especially since they’d know it was coming and could prepare/try to escape. Even The Blood God couldn’t manage to kill Tubbo. But with luck you could maybe kill the queens? But then they’d raise new ones…arg. Tubbo is invincible. 

What my partner would try: Use a lot of bullets. There is definitely no other better than using a full army armed with muskets. It's the best strategy every I have no idea what you're talking about. Alternatively smoke one (1) cigarette in the general vicinity. Or acme brand dynamite?

3…How are you giving the void access to the real world? Like that would definitely count as killing all the Fault guys don’t get me wrong. I just don’t know how you would do that. Bringing real world objects wouldn’t necessarily give access, just make you a target. My best sketch of how the void gets to devour the real world is by first devouring all of Fault so that nothing stands between. Potentially a hole could be ripped in Fault to the world beyond, you shove Wilbur out it, then make peace with your short life? But I don’t know how a human could make that hole in the first place. If you have an idea feel free to shoot that in the comments, because it would be very very effective. Still I think it would be easier to walk up to me in real life and just…shoot me. Here’s a hint to help you on this quest: something published in Fault doxxed me. Gooood luck! 

What I would try: Midday. Unexpected flashbang. Wilbur goes into a trauma response, meanwhile flood the area with helicopters with spotlights, the kind banned for causing permanent eye damage. Catch him from every angle, then get him with a high voltage taser. You’ll want a lot of people armed with this, because at this point Wilbur’s going to be going crazy with the cannibalism. In the few seconds while the entire void is screaming in agony (wherein most people in the radius experience things like instantly going mad, ear drums/skulls bursting) it won’t be able to fight back and Wilbur won’t be in enough sense to devour the bombs being dropped. 

Problems: Wilbur noticing the helicopters coming and booking it. The void eating the flashbang. Eldritch voice being employed quickly enough to prevent tasers (it’s not extreme when not in agony, but still has some potential to keep distance). Wilbur eating a hole through the ground in order to escape light/attacks, at which point the darkness will be enough for the void to fully retaliate. Wilbur tends to get extremely dangerous when cornered and not holding back, though that could potentially be mitigated by having friends in the area it doesn’t want as collateral damage? Potentially Tommy since otherwise you now are fighting two+ overpowered anomalies. But past a certain point he would be far too pained/scared and even that wouldn’t dampen retaliation. 

What my partner would try: Flashbangs. Or to stop him from attacking, throw tommy at him (no! Then it’ll get Red’d and cause more problem!) Solution: get someone weak to throw Tommy. Or use a lightning bolt for extra traumatic damage. To do so, ally with Thor the god of Thunder, who is sure to help you on your brave quest. Or wait for him to sleep and use a sledge hammer (me: he has insomnia dude) yeah but he has to sleep eventually! Eventually… 

4.Yeah just shoot that man lmao. In his own words:

“Well, no, obviously, like I’m pretty sure a bullet through the head would be a greater weakness. Or like if you blew me up or something. Boom. No more Tommy.” He made exploding gestures with his hands. He figured it would take a fast death to get rid of him, but the Foundation had always preferred slow ones. The crimson was sunk to his elbows and racing up his biceps. “Who’d have guessed a nuclear bomb would’ve taken care of him? Shocker.”

Of course, I would argue that Tommy could be extremely dangerous if he chose to be, but he’s mostly contact based. Well. Unless he starts coating bullets in Red and fighting armies so thick even he can’t miss…anyway like he’s killed more than The Blade at the very least, so, 

What my partner would try: Kill him with a tommy gun

5.Well the not being seen thing won’t work since The Blood God is physically drawn to challengers and battle luck can affect people halfway across the globe if they decided to beef with The Blade through indirect means. So you would hella not survive, but that doesn’t exclude his death as well. I think the ocean thing would deffo work and be very apt considering the ‘sea of voices’. Now I will say, Tommy is extremely used to being tortured, and anything nonlethal with minimal long term damage you can think of the Foundation has done. And, crucially, Tommy values his friend’s happiness over his own wellbeing and has been suicidal in the past. Basically the perfect recipe for a martyr. There’s a good chance he’ll kill himself just to ensure you can’t hurt The Blade. Past that…I mean I know Philza doesn’t change forms in doors, but I don’t know if that’s sense or because magically one can’t create a form where there isn’t physical space? Not something I ever considered. Potentially The Blade could be sliced in half just by trying to be summoned into a too small space, but I figure that would also be something the Foundation tested? Idk man. But assuming he can be summoned, either due to space or suicidal prevention, The Blade would drown. 

What I would try: First, do it when he’s hibernating post large battle, since while The Blood God will destroy people via twisting the universe while asleep, it does limit reaction on his end. Second, a challenger has to be alive for The Blood God's battle luck to be in play. So a suicide bomber could definitely take him. Or a score of them. One of the worst injuries The Blade receives is actually from shrapnel that occurs the second after a battle ends when The Blood God can’t use supernatural luck to avoid it. AI drones could also potentially do a lot of damage, though remote control won’t work at all. Or, get an enemy that’s undead! That one comes up much later :)

Or wait. Potentially has already come up. HOLY HELL DOES TUBBO COUNT AS AN UNDEAD CONSTRUCT- I think Tubbo has double defense against The Blood God omg..

What my partner would try: I think the moment Tommy wakes up in a metal box, even without the claustrophobia, would be bad. You don’t need the drugs. He’s already panicking. (I reminded him of the torture thing and he changed his mind) Actually Tommy has already been in a small metal box for a long time. Just put Jeff the killer in there with him. And watch him say his iconic line ‘im going to jeff the kill you’ 

As for The Blade, all you need is Loony Tunes level unrealistic focus fire from comically large automated weapons. Like the comically large gun from Despicable Me, or an entire wall of machine guns. Oh! I know! Go back in time to when he was a normal pig before he became vessel for The Blood God and kill him then. Also go back in time before the concepts of anger and fire existed, be the first to create those, and then have tiny Philza in your hand and crush. EZ.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Astarion + Evie, Accidental Marriage + Time Travel, please!

Send Me 2 Prompts + A Ship

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

A/N: This one was tough, not gonna lie, but I think I got there.

My first thought is something happens to land Evie far into Astarion's past

This is the time he's a magistrate before Cazador

For Evie this all happens post game

She and Astarion are traveling together, they're in love, it's great

But they come across a temple where some ancient wizard was messing with chronomancy magic

Evie triggers a trap and it flings her back in time

Lost and unsure of what to do, she makes her way out of the temple and towards the nearest place she knows she has friends; Baldur's Gate

Of course, when she gets there, it's not the Baldur's Gate she knows and it quickly becomes apparent just how far back she went

Through some shenanigans and misunderstandings she ends up getting swept in a raid and brought before none other than magistrate Ancunin

Evie doesn't do herself any favors by instinctually calling him "Astarion" and not "your honor"

When put to the stand, Astarion barely glances at her case before passing judgement, but Evie isn't about to take it lying down

Astarion told her more than once that even before meeting Cazador he wasn't exactly a kind man, but Evie hadn't appreciated his true meaning until that moment; he was a fucking asshole

Evie then very thoroughly defends herself to the point Astarion is turning down right red in the face

As much as he would love to be petty, there is an audience and he's got more cases to get through so he lets her go with a fine

Evie leaves annoyed and suddenly faced with a dilemma; does she tell him?

Her instinct is to go back inside and warn him about Cazador, but would that mean changing the future?

If Astarion was never turned then he wouldn't have eventually been captured by the mindflayers, they wouldn't have met and there was a good chance the Absolute might have prevailed in the end without him

On the other hand, how could she live with herself if she didn't even try

Magistrate Astarion meanwhile is fuming

It shouldn't bother him so much; it wasn't the first time a defendant had gotten mouthy in the courtroom, but this one was different

It wasn't just that she was Gur, even if that did rub him the wrong way

It was the way she looked at him, the way she said his name; it was more than a passing familiarity, she *knew* him

He felt deeply seen by her in a way he never had experience with anyone, and he barely knew her name; who in the hells was she?

He ends up going to hunt her down in the city too plagued with unanswered questions to think rationally

Evie meanwhile has resolved to fine Astarion the next morning and try to warn him when she finds him bursting into the Elfsong demanding to talk with her

It's awkward, at first as once they're face to face with each other; neither of them know exactly what to say to each other

Astarion realizes how deranged it is to walk up to a stranger and ask them "why does it feels like you know me"

Meanwhile Evie is wracking her brain trying to figure out how to convince him she's not some raving lunatic

So they get a drink, then two, then three and start to talk

Astarion starts with the trial asking her how she game to Baldur's Gate, hoping that will give him some insight as to where he might have met her before

Of course, Evie is decidedly vague about the whole thing

Evie tries to warn him about Cazador, but Astarion can only think of the man as some noble recluse

The family does have a reputation though, so he can't see himself making a "deal" any time soon

Evie just gets frustrated because he's not fully grasping what she's trying to say

The deeper they get into their cups the more they're just talking past each other

All Astarion is really hearing that this point is that a beautiful woman traveled apparently a long way to make sure he was safe and cared for

Evie starts to see Astarion's pretension slip away as he turns more into the funny, slightly goofy man she fell in love with; it makes it easy to forget when exactly she is

At some point words are forgotten and they fall into each others arms; Evie missing her Astarion and this Astarion reveling in being loved

Neither of them knows when it happened or even how; but somewhere in their collective blackout state they walk up together in the court house with a ring on Evie's finger and a marriage certificate in Astarion's hand

Astarion is of course horrified and immediately wants the whole thing to disappear, but due to the type of certificate they signed it's not as easy as a simple divorce

Evie is frankly a little embarrassed by Astarion's reaction, but she has to remind herself that he's not *her* Astarion

*Her* Astarion is no doubt doing something stupid right now to get her back and if this Astarion isn't going to listen to her warnings she needs to start focusing on making her way back

Queue the pair of them trying to ignore each other and being utterly unable to

I'm not sure of all the details, but Evie would eventually make it back to her own timeline having determined that this world is separate from her own

She is able to successfully convince Magistrate Astarion that she's not crazy and while she can't be certain he won't meet Cazador, he is different than when they first met and could end up making very different choices

Of course her Astarion to relieved to have her back and absolutely will not live down the idea of her marrying another version of himself; he truly is irresistible in every universe

Evie counters that if anything she's the irresistible one; he's the one that proposed to her after all

Some part of Astarion is resentful at his other version getting to live a life he had stolen from him; on the other hand, six months with Evie somehow managed to counter balance 200 years of darkness and ruin, perhaps he got the better deal

[egcdeath]

hook, line, and sinker

summary: steve was never meant to be anything more to you than a check, a basic mission. but somewhere along the way, things had veered from that.

pairing: steve rogers x spy!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, bad decisions, betrayal, unhappy ending

author's note: it has been a minute since i've posted a fic! i hope you enjoy :)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Despite the different rooms you found yourself in, the harsh morning sun was always the first thing you saw in the morning. Its bright rays would peek through the room’s shades and land right onto your face, intruding on some of the more vulnerable moments of your life.

When you finally angled your face away from the beaming star, your tired eyes fell upon the man next to you. The man you should’ve never taken things this far with. A man on the run, who you were sent after.

You sighed softly as you became a bit more conscious, and a now slightly more awake Steve threw a large arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled softly against your ear. You nodded and relaxed further into the slightly stiff motel mattress, mentally snapshotting and framing this moment in time. Yet another to add in the five month scrapbook of your time with Steve. Time that you recognized was quickly running out.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes once more, to listen to Steve’s soft breaths as he inhaled the scent of you. It made your heart hurt knowing that within the next week you would no longer get to be in those arms. Knowing that you would have to wake up alone in a new apartment in a new country and wait for a new mission while the news on the television droned on about the nomadic Captain America being flushed out of hiding. That Steve was no more to you than a mission. That it was your fault that you had fallen so hard and so fast.

So you treasured it while you had it. Hummed contently as Steve massaged your side before peppering little kisses against your neck. Tried to absorb the stubborn tear that threatened to fall down your face at any moment.

“We have to leave today,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Natasha wants to meet you.”

Your eyes shot open and your brows momentarily furrowed, something you quickly attempted to play off with a wide smile. There was no way that she wouldn’t recognize who you were— despite being declared ‘dead’ years ago, you were one of the more esteemed spies in your community. What that also meant is that you had even less time with Steve than you’d expected.

“When are we leaving? Am I gonna have to get used to another time zone?”

“Probably a few. Nat’s already with Sam, but we heard there’s something weird going on in Scotland with Wanda and Vision.”

“Should I really be getting involved with this then? It sounds like some pretty intense Avenger business if the parts of the team you still communicate with are getting together. I can just stay here ‘till you guys are ready to come back.”

Steve gave you an ‘are you serious?’ look before breaking into soft laughter, “are you serious?” You nodded wordlessly in response. “Oh, you’re serious. I promise that you’ll be fine.”

“Well, things better not get weird,” you giggled right along with him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s face so that you could look into his eyes. You took another mental picture of him. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to be the last.

——

After you prepared yourself for the long car ride ahead of you, you slipped your second burner phone out of the hidden pocket of your suitcase, you were met with several missed messages by the man who sent you on the mission in the first place.

What is the wait?

I was referred to you for a reason

Have you even found him yet?

I’m not paying for you to sit around and go to brunch all day.

Do I need to send more money for a plane ticket or something??

No, I’ve got it. He’ll be in custody by tonight.

He better be. Or else you won’t be around to see tomorrow.

You swallowed thickly. You wouldn’t be dealing with this in the first place if you weren’t so irresponsible. And if word got out that you were falling in love with your targets, your reputation would be in shambles. You should’ve known from the start that this could never end well.

Steve stepped back into the bedroom area, a goofy smile on his face at the sight of you sprawled out on your back on top of the dingy motel bed. “You ready?” he asked, sounding chipper. You assumed he was ecstatic that you were finally going to be able to meet his friends, which made your heart hurt even more.

For a moment you considered the possibility of not going through with it. Of going along with Steve, work, prestige, and that hefty bounty be damned. You would still be living life on the run, but you’d have Steve, and everyone else on his side on your side too. You’d have some semblance of a family, and maybe someday you’d have a real family and someone to grow old with.

You chastised yourself for getting soft before sitting up, “I’m ready.”

——

You weren’t ready.

You knew you had to move quickly, the sun was going down, and you’d made a promise that needed to be fulfilled, or god knew what would happen to you.

You reached for the volume dial on the radio portion of the car, and turned down the song that Steve was currently humming along to.

“We should probably get off on the next exit that has a gas station,” you prompted, “the tank’s getting pretty low.”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to the dashboard and he nodded in agreement, “you’re right. Good catch.”

Steve pulled the car off and drove you to the nearest gas station, humming pleasantly along to the music once again. Your stomach was twisting and untwisting knots with every foot you got closer to the station, knowing exactly what you would have to do once you arrived.

Somehow, this was the most nerve wracking moment of your career. Not infiltrating secret government operations, not pulling the trigger on a mark, not even seeing the message from Tony Stark asking for you to find a way to bring Steve in.

You hurried into the main building of the station, making up an excuse on the spot to go inside. You made your way into a bathroom stall, and slipped the phone you hid away earlier out of the extra pocket in your pants.

Your hands shook as you dialed the first two numbers. You took one last deep breath as your finger hovered over the final number. You had one last chance to change your mind, to go back out to the car like nothing had happened because nothing had happened. You would drive a little longer before staying in another shitty hotel, and think about how you made the right decision as you curled up next to Steve’s warm body.

But you couldn’t. You were given this mission, and you needed to complete it.

You pressed the last nine, immediately connecting with an emergency service operator. You gave them the tip that you had seen Steve Rogers pumping gas into a black Honda Civic, and provided them with your location. With every word, your voice trembled a little more. You were grateful for your proximity to a toilet, as the lump inside of your throat threatened to force the contents of your stomach up with every passing moment.

You hung up the phone and looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You could barely recognize yourself now, and you weren’t sure if that was from the flagrant betrayal of your partner, or the undermining of your own personal rules for the past five months of your life.

After reflecting on what you’d done for a few minutes, you made your way back to the car. You sat down in the passenger seat, lip trembling as you thought about Steve, and the fact that you’d laid a trap for someone you had such strong feelings for.

Steve sat down just a few minutes later, a smile on his face, and snacks from the gas station in his arms. As he passed you a water bottle, he couldn’t help but notice the tears slipping down your face.

“Hey, what‘s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the rest of the items on his lap and leaning over the middle console to console you.

You began to full-on sob now, each tremble of your body filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Steve. I am so sorry,” you repeated.

“No, no, you’re okay. What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I- I had no other choice,” you wailed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased and he pulled away from you, betrayal evident in his features, “oh.”

You swallowed hard and shook your head.

“So this was the plan all along?” he questioned. Your lack of response seemed to answer the question for him. “Was any of this real?”

“All of it was, Steve,” you all but whimpered out.

He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn’t quite put together what he truly wanted to say. It was silent in the car for a moment, aside from your quiet sniffles.

“I loved you,” he finally said, hurt evident in his delivery. The admission shook you to your core. You almost couldn’t believe that the first time you were hearing it was after you had put him into such a terrible situation. After you turned in someone that you cared about for your own gain.

“I know,” you looked away from Steve in shame, the look of hurt on his face now permanently imprinted in your mind.

The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Not too long after, you noticed the unmissable blue and red of emergency vehicles approaching your own. It was time.

You unlocked your door and exited without another word. You refused to look back to the car, keeping your head down and your eyes squeezed shut, knowing that if you had to see Steve being taken away, you might never get over the permanent sick feeling you were currently in the midst of.

You walked right inside of the building, stopping in front of an aisle of chargers and finally looking back at the mess that you had made.

“What’s going on out there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter, peeking out the large glass windows.

“I don’t know,” you feigned ignorance and casually shrugged, ignoring the fact that the sight of about a dozen police and SWAT vehicles was tearing you up inside. What were they going to do to him?

You turned away from the scene once again, pretending to browse through the low quality electronics next to you. You heard some yelling, a bit of a struggle, then it was all over.

The coast was clear. Your mission was over.

You left the store without purchasing anything. You moved sluggishly as you got back inside of the now abandoned vehicle.

You started the car once again. This time without the radio playing overplayed pop songs, and without Steve happily humming along. You stared blankly ahead of you, feeling numb above anything else. Steve's words resonated in your mind, bouncing around in your head as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

Guilt was beginning to creep up on you in a way that you’d never experienced before. You immediately felt haunted by the ghosts of your memories with Steve. Of every entry in your mental scrapbook, of the final image of the hurt on Steve’s face as he confessed his true feelings for you. Of all, you were left with one terrifying thought.

You loved him too.

[hanatiny]

[4:04] Heart Not Found

a/n // disclaimer: I’d like to make it clear that I neither condone nor endorse any of the behavior described in this fic. Each of the characters acknowledges that it is beyond unacceptable and unjustified; this is merely meant to be an experimental look at the psychological processes within a yandere’s mind. Furthermore, this work is purely fictional and I do not claim to personally know exactly how any of the ateez members behave.

a/n: If there’s anything potentially triggering that I have forgotten to list in the warnings, please let me know and I’ll fix my mistake asap!! thank you <3

pairing: yandere!San x genderneutral!reader x pianist!boyfriend!Hongjoong

genre: angst

word count: 2602

warnings: non-idol AU, murder, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death, mentions of knives, San is highly obsessive in this, he threatens the reader but doesn’t actually hurt them, kidnapping, trespassing, swearing, I did my best to keep the violence as vague as possible

-----

It was around 3am and you had yet to return home, and to say San was unnerved about this fact would be a massive understatement.

It wasn’t unusual for you to get home when it was already dark outside but it was never after midnight, much less in the early morning hours it was approaching now.

San tapped his fingers against the glass of his window anxiously as he watched the streets below attentively. You had turned off your phone a while ago, or at least that was the conclusion he drew after he stopped getting a signal from the tracker he had secretly managed to install on your phone.

3:12... why weren't you home yet?

His jaw went tense when he finally caught sight of you a few excruciatingly long minutes later, and he absolutely fumed as he saw you holding hands with another man he had never seen before in his life- he paused.

He did recognize the man, as none other than the pianist Kim Hongjoong who had been gaining quite a bit of popularity in the recent months. Kim Hongjoong, who he had gone to high school with until the older dropped out to focus on his career instead.

San didn't care much for that though, because a pretty face and a talent like Hongjoong's didn't mean he could love and care for you like you deserved it.

San believed that only he could give you everything you needed and wanted, and everything beyond that. Which was exactly why he was seeing red, punching the wall next to himself angrily. It caused his knuckles to bleed from the force behind the action, but the rage he felt overshadowed his pain.

Why didn’t you realize you were destined to be his and his alone? That you shouldn’t go whoring yourself out to other men? That only he should be the one to hold you in his arms, the one to protect you from everyone and everything.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t feel his attraction to you, why you insisted on turning a blind eye to him and found him “weird.” That’s what he assumed to be the case, at the very least.

San loved you, why was that so damn difficult for you to understand?

His narrowed eyes flickered over to the knife resting on his bedside table, and he had it clutched tightly in his bleeding hand within the blink of an eye.

He darted down the stairs without a second thought, blinded by the rage he felt deep within himself.

Meanwhile, outside, you were hugging your boyfriend goodbye for the night. His dark eyes shone innocently as he kissed your nose affectionately, causing you to giggle while still having your hands intertwined.

“So I’ll pick you up at 10 tomorrow for brunch, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Hongjoongie~ I’ll see you then.” You playfully blew him a kiss before he turned and walked off into the night, rounding the corner shortly after.

It was San’s time to strike, using your distracted state of mind to creep up behind you and tightly wrap an arm around your torso while he held the knife to your throat in warning.

You didn’t recognize his voice at first when he whispered into your ear, your brain much too clouded from the feeling of fear filling you, “If you make any sound at all, I’ll personally slit your throat and cut your vocal cords. You don’t want to lose an angelic voice such as yours, do you~?”

Realizing your situation was hopeless due to the unexpected amount of strength the man holding you possessed, you stopped trying to kick him and wrestle yourself free. This was the only answer he needed, starting to take slow and deliberate steps backwards from your house over to his. His hold on you remained tight, borderline suffocating even, just in case you would dare to get bold and try something.

He had left his door slightly ajar, kicking it shut behind him once he had finally brought you inside of his living space.

You still found yourself unable to figure out the identity of the man who had burst into your comfort zone out of nowhere but you didn’t want to find out what he was capable of doing to you if you attempted to resist whatever he was in the process of doing and pinpoint who he was, considering the amount of ease with which he snuck up and took hold of you just a few minutes ago.

Casually dropping his knife onto a nearby cupboard, he led you down the hallway of his house to a spacious bedroom. It was then a figurative lightbulb went off in your head and the fog clouding your mind cleared, upon seeing certain pieces of furniture he had placed in the room.

You had been here before. You had been in this house before when he had just moved in and his furniture was all over the place, he was the ‘cute neighbor’ who had offered you some coffee and invited you over to ‘get to know each other a little.’ Now all you needed to do was remember his name- it clicked. You remembered.

His grip on you (probably purposely) loosening, you whirled around and took a few steps away from him. San didn’t seem all too fazed by it though, simply grinning knowingly at you and crossing his arms while you did your best to subtly gain proper awareness of your surroundings.

It seemed like he noticed, however, because that was when he finally spoke up again.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to recognize me, love. You know who I am, don’t you~?” His tone was so calm that it unsettled you to the point of having to avert your eyes, your head hanging low as you nodded hesitantly, hardly even noticing his use of the pet name.

“I knew it...~” San’s voice trailed off into a purr that you weren’t sure how to feel about, deciding that being wary was likely the smartest thing you could do in your current situation.

Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize he had stepped closer to you while you were internally debating with yourself, pleased that you seemed to remember what he said about speaking.

“Now, I have something to take care of for a little bit... I trust that you’ll be good and not leave this room.” Although a smile was painted on his features, it didn’t make his tone sound any less threatening. Not willing to find out what might happen if you didn’t react, you nodded once more.

“That’s my good dove~” All of it disgusted you - from the way he cooed at you, over the way his lips twitched upwards into a grin, to the way he looked at you like you were the only person in this twisted world.

You hated it and yet there you stood, in the middle of this sicko’s bedroom, frozen with uncertaintly and fear. You only scarcely resisted the urge to punch him in the face, watching closely as he left a few moments later and closed the door behind himself.

You heard him lock it as well, heaving a shaky sigh when you believed him to be out of earshot.

Your body shook with rage, how did he have the audacity to just kidnap you like that and walk away like he didn’t commit a goddamn felony? Your first instinct was to break something, and you figured that the window might be the first best thing - just in case it’d give you an opportunity to escape.

Looking around, you were quick to find a small hammer in a drawer. You swung it against the glass with every bit of force you could muster, only for the object in your hand to bounce back without leaving even so much as a crack. Dumbfounded by the fact that San had even reinforced his windows to keep you from leaving him, clearly having planned this for a while, you dropped the hammer next to you and sank to your knees.

You curled in on yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were forced to come to terms with the reality that you were trapped. Trapped in this room, trapped with your not-so-innocent-and-sweet neighbor.

Meanwhile, San’s steps were hurried as he sought out your boyfriend’s house, knife in hand while he occasionally glanced at his phone. It probably wasn’t very smart of Hongjoong to have his personal address publicized for fan mail purposes, considering how easily it could be exploited by people like San.

He should’ve been freezing out in the cold air at 3:35 in the very early morning, but the blood practically boiling in his veins kept him from being affected by it much. It was almost too easy for him to trespass onto the desired property when he finally reached it, breaking the lock on the door effortlessly with the blade of his knife.

Hongjoong had a habit of staying up as late as it was humanly possible, and it was rather common knowledge that he sometimes didn’t even sleep at all. As such, San was not the least bit surprised to faintly hear someone playing the piano when he stepped into the house as quietly as he could.

He followed the sound, eventually coming to a large room filled with a variety of instruments of different sizes. In the middle was, as San had to begrudgingly admit, a beautiful piano. Its seat was occupied by his very target, Hongjoong, who was aware of the younger man’s presence and let his fingers press against the black and white keys once more.

The sound the action produced was so disharmonious that it made San physically cringe as he stared the young pianist down, the latter of whom finally lifting his head with a deep, exasperated sigh.

“This is about y/n, isn’t it? I’ve noticed the way you look at-”

“You saw nothing! You know nothing! Do you have any fucking clue how painful it is to see the one you love with someone else, to not even have them spare you a single glance because of how little they care about you?” San was furious at this point, blinded by his rage, Hongjoong flinching and recoiling in his seat at the harsh tone employed by the other male as he continued, “I know you don’t. You were always the prodigy and excelled at what you did, got everything you wanted so easily... including the one thing I wanted too. I can’t live with that, and neither will you.”

“I-I didn’t- That’s not-” Hongjoong stammered, trying to defend himself before quickly realizing it was a futile endeavor when he saw San lunging at him with his knife clutched tightly in his hand. His reflexes were fast as he tried to reach for a nearby violin to whack the latter unconscious with but the crazed younger was, to his demise, much faster and pinned him to the surface of his piano while the keys beneath him produced another dissonant sound.

It didn’t exactly help that San was not only taller but also more muscular than Hongjoong, so the latter’s tries to wiggle and struggle free were for nothing. He groaned in pain as the wooden edges of his instrument forcefully dug into his skin; he clawed at it, but to no avail. He had no chance against San.

Despite knowing how hopeless it was for himself, Hongjoong refused to go down without a fight and proceeded kick and scream in San’s hold, “You’re making a huge m-mistake-”

His vision spun before going black, his pleas going silent while his body went limb. Everything stopped, except for San. He continued to stab and mutilate the older until he deemed it enough and was satisfied, stepping backwards after. He got what he came here for. Taking a quick picture with his phone to show to both you and the police what had taken place (although he’d come up with an alibi for the authorities, of course), he backtracked his steps and left the house as fast as his feet would take him.

Still under the safe and dark blanket of the night, he made his way back to his own house. Making sure to hide the bloody knife where no one would find it, he cleaned himself off briefly before he got an idea for how he could use the ‘souvenir’ he brought for you.

You jumped slightly in your spot on San’s bedroom, curled up and hiding your face behind your knees even now, when you heard him slam the front door shut which signalled you that he had returned from whatever he was out doing. You feared the worst as you listened carefully, presuming the noise he was making to be coming from his kitchen.

You looked up when the bedroom door clicked open and San entered, a smug and satisfied grin on his face as he moved to set a jar on the bedside table before crouching in front of you.

“I’m home, bunny. Did you miss me~?” His falsely innocent, sweet tone was still something you despised, although you felt genuine fear for what he could do to you simply by looking at the tiny smudge of blood lingering on his cheek, so you nodded obediently.

“Good. I just had to have a little chat with your pretty boy, and look what he gave me~!” San cheerfully nudged his head towards the bedside table, and the sight you were met with made you feel sick to your stomach.

What you assumed to be Hongjoong’s bloody heart. In a jar. You kept glancing back and forth between him and the object, gaping at him in both shock and disbelief of what he had done.

“What do you think of it, love? Pretty, isn’t it~? Go on, tell me.” He encouraged you softly, "You told him he had your heart right? Now you have his forever!” He chirped, and your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“Y-you monster!” You exclaimed, cursing yourself internally for your stuttering as you cursed at him, “You heartless bastard, you didn’t have to kill him!”

“I didn’t want to kill him,” he admitted softly, looking down as if he felt any sense of remorse for any of his actions within the last hour or so, “but he left me no choice. He refused to break up with you. He refused to let me love you without... all this.” He gestured vaguely, pulling out his phone to show you the photo he took, “He refused to let me have even one thing I wanted for myself, even though he always got whatever he wished for. Desperate times require desperate measures, I had no choice...”

San trailed off, your own face paling at the realization that Hongjoong had been murdered because of a petty rivalry of sorts from the past that San had yet to let go of.

Feeling lightheaded by the abundance of information swimming in your already aching head, you blacked out. When you came to your senses again, it appeared to be morning and San was making noise in another room.

Tears wet your face as you shakily reached for your phone, wishing you hadn’t because the very first notification you opened was a headline you had prayed wouldn’t be reality, accompanied by the very picture San had taken the previous night.

“Up and coming pianist Kim Hongjoong brutally murdered in his home last night; investigations still ongoing”

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[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

[3mmafr0st]

Remember Me - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3.5k (This is the longest thing I’ve ever written in one siting I think

Next Part->

Warnings: SMUT and everything that comes with it, Talk of death and murder, violence, guns, brainwashing

A/N: I had a really good time writing this so if you want this to be a series then say so because I will! Also I had to manually space this whole thing so sorry if the format is kinda weird 

 I hated that chair. It made me forget things, made me forget him. It never worked completely, I fought too hard, fought to remember him. Our last mission was one that I would fight the hardest I ever have to remember.

The minute I walked through the threshold, I saw him. If the black muzzle-like mask identical to mine, and the darkness in his eyes wasn't enough, then the silvery left arm with a familiar red star on the shoulder similar to the one on my knee sealed the deal. My body immediately relaxed the moment I saw him, but I didn’t know why. I wracked my brain for answers to the question. What was his name? Sadly, yet another thing that I couldn’t remember. Then again, I couldn't remember my own name, never mind someone else's. He looked me in the eyes and I could feel something in his stare, but I didn’t dwell on it, instead sitting myself down next to him to prepare myself for the briefing.

The two of us settled into our hotel room. The room was nice, the standard one bedroom with a bathroom connected and an attached balcony. The balcony overlooked the street, across from a well known cafe that the target frequented. The two of us were meant to stay at the hotel until one of us got the shot, and by one of us, they meant Soldat. We weren’t told who the target was, just a face and location. I didn't know why they sent me on this mission. I did have the eyes of a hawk, which might have been why, but I had no experience with long distance killing. He, Soldat, was the expert. The two of us sat on the balcony, as he fiddled with the gun, making sure that it was just the way he wanted it. I watched the cafe, searching for the target. The two of us sat like that for a while, I was his eyes, but he was my trigger, in more than one way.  Every time my eyes would drift over to him, a memory resurfaced, another mission that we were on in the past, or fleeting moments that I didn’t quite understand. It wasn't much at all, but it was something. He surprised me when he talked first.

“How much do you remember?” I quickly checked my person and the area around me. “Don’t worry, I've already scanned the area for bugs.”

“I have bits and pieces of old missions, but that’s it, nothing solid.: I had thought about lying, telling him that I didn't remember anything to save face, but the minute I looked into his eyes, I just knew I couldn't keep anything from him. I didn't know why, but just looking at him made me want to tell every single thing about me. “What about you?”

“Maybe it's because they’ve been doing it for so long that I’ve built up a tolerance or something like that, but the last few times it's gotten weaker and weaker.” I felt something, some sort of feeling that sat in my heart that I didn’t quite understand.

“Do you want to talk about it? If you don't, I get it, but then again it's not like we have anything else to do for a while.” He took a second to gather his thoughts, longer than expected. It worried me, what happened?“It was a reconnaissance mission, the two of us were sent as a couple, two oil tycoons that had shady business dealings. The middle gets fuzzy, but I remember something happened between us and that’s why we were sent to the chair, for extra conditioning.” What the hell did ‘something’ mean? I felt my heart race, my stomach twisting in knots. This was going to be a tough mission.

It had been 4 long and strenuous days, with a regular schedule of waking up an hour before the cafe opened, and then staking out together on the balcony until closing, when we finally got to do what we wanted like eating and sleeping.

The heat of his body had become familiar to me in the past few days. I always woke up first, his arm always slung over me, having done it in his sleep, and every morning I would move the arm and get myself ready before he would wake up.

The two of us met up on the balcony as the cafe opened, and that's when I spotted him, the target.  I looked down at the photo to double check, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was him. I tapped Soldat’s knee with my metal one and pointed to the target on the ground.

“He’s here,” I whispered. Once he got a clear view of the target, I heard two almost silent puffs of air, and the man fell to the ground, dead. Although the man sitting beside me intrigued me to no end, he was terrifying at the same time. The fact that I knew the second shot was only a precautionary measure and the fact that both of us could kill each other if we tried hard enough was enough of an idea to scare the hell out of me for some reason. At the same time though, it was sort of invigorating, to have someone who gets it, who understands what I’ve been through.

“I’m going to take a shower,” He said gruffly, and quickly packed up the gun and headed off to the bathroom. I sighed, disappointed that he was in that much of a hurry to leave me. I looked out onto the chaos that was happening. The “police” had arrived, but in reality, they were false officers, agents of Hydra sent to differ and obscure the investigation like normal. The man laced dead on the pavement, and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander, who was this man, was he a good person, or bad? Did he have a family? The thoughts pushed me even deeper. Who were we anyway? When were either of us born, what are our names, do we have families?

It was all too much to bear at that moment, so I decided the best course of action would be to get in some comfortable clothes, namely the large tee shirt that was given to me as pajamas, and relax.  I slid the glass door open, the cold and dry processed air of the hotel room hit me. I pulled the shirt out of my bag and changed into just the shirt and panties. I flooded onto the bed as hard as I could, metal hitting against the wood of the bed. It was so comfortable for the time that I was alone. I spread myself out on the bed, rolling around in the blankets and for a brief moment, just enjoyed myself. The feeling of cotton sheets against my leg made me smile contently, the cool of the metal contrasting with the warmth of the bed. The whole thing made me feel like I was off in another world, the life I would have had without Hydra.

Maybe I really was in my own world, because as I rolled to lay flat on my back, and opened my eyes there he was. He simply stood at the door of the bathroom, only a towel around his body, looking at me with a masked expression, hiding any reactions he might have had.  I immediately sat upright on the side of the bed, a blush starting to creep up over my face.

“You know, if I was an enemy combatant, you would be dead right now.” His face didn’t change, but he took a step closer to me, making me want to look down. It wasn’t just the fact that he had caught me in such a vulnerable position state, it was his too. Throughout the entire mission, and any mission that I had glimpses of, he had always stayed as dressed as possible, never even taking his shirt off before bed. I could see every muscle across the wide expanse of his chest all the way down to where his hips began to create a v-shape. The sight was almost mouthwatering and I honestly didn’t know how to handle the sight. He was a good spy, he could tell that I was clearly uncomfortable. I stared harder at the ground from my seat on the side of the bed, as he stepped even further towards me, settling right in front of me.

“What’s wrong, you’re upset?” He’s slightly confused but I still hid from his gaze. I felt his hand underneath my jaw, tilting my chin up so I was forced to look up at him.

The moment his skin hit mine, images, events began to flood my brain, his smile, the two of us together laughing, our hands intertwined. His hand moved back in shock, and stepped back a little. At that moment I knew that the same thing had happened to him.

“Did you just remember too?” I nodded, and he sat down on the bed next to me, trying to process.“What did you see?”

“The two of us, old missions, I don’t quite understand” My voice caught in my throat as an idea hit me. It was a bit of a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, it could work. “What if we’re triggering each other?”

“That makes sense, but why?”

“Maybe if we do more, we’ll find out.” My voice wavered, worried that he wouldn’t agree, that he would reject the idea immediately. Instead, he simply said nothing, looking at me intensely. Slowly, his hand cupped my cheek, his eyes scanning mine for any hint of regret or hesitation. Tentatively, he leaned in, my eyes fluttering closed as our lips finally met.

It was like an explosion, our lips moulded together perfectly as images and memories began to appear in my head. We had done this before, so many times before. I grasped onto him, trying to find something to anchor me. I threaded my hands in his still-damp hair, as his arm wrapped around my waist pulling me impossibly closer. The contact made me gasp, and he deepened the kiss, our tongues dancing together as more and more visions hit me. Other missions where this exact same set of events continued to happen over and over again. It was the strongest sense of deja vu that I had ever felt.

His body began to press closer to me, pushing me down into the bed. I finally broke the kiss so I could breathe. I looked up at him, his eyes had almost lost all of their blue, leaving only dark pits behind. I quickly pulled the large tee over my head with his elf, and his eyes followed to my chest. It was like I could read his mind, and I knew what he was trying to do. Although that sounded amazing, I had a different plan in mind.

Using my superstrength,  I flipped the two of us over so he was the one lying with his legs dangled over the edge of the bed. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t help but smirk as I raked my nails over his chest, eliciting a quiet groan from his lips. God, I never wanted him to stop making those sounds, I just wanted to make him feel good. I had no idea how the towel stayed around his waist, but it had. Kneeling down, I slowly undid the towel. It was huge to say the least. For a minute, I wondered how the hell I was going to get the whole thing in my mouth, but the minute the thought occurred, it was followed by memories of doing exactly that. I didn’t want to tease him, but I just couldn't help but enjoy the view in front of me, watch his chest heave, his body beginning to glisten with sweat, his dick resting on his stomach, going a little past his navel. The only words I could use to describe him in this very moment was perfect.

My hand rested on his stomach. I felt the muscles in his abdomen tense as my tongue hit his cock, licking one long strip up the shaft, before bringing the head into my mouth. I felt his hand wrap itself into my hair, pulling me even farther onto his dick. I slacked my jaw and hollowed my cheeks as best as possible as I slowly sank farther and farther until my nose hit the base of his dick. The groan he made as his cock hit the back of my throat made me begin to squeeze down around nothing, my panties already ruined at this point. I waited there for a minute, trying to make sure I would be ok for what happened next.

He immediately took control the minute I began to relinquish it, rutting his hips up and into my mouth, pushing my head down onto his dick. I looked up at him, watching as his head flew back, his mouth parted and groans and moans spilling from his mouth. His thrusts started shallow and slow, but began to pick up pace, as I could feel him get closer and closer, his moans louder and louder. His hips began to stutter, and I felt his cock twitch in my mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His hips slammed forward into my mouth, as I felt him spilling into my mouth. I pulled myself up, and swallowed.

Y/N, I knew what it had to be, but I was still in awe and shock. I hadn’t heard that in forever.  I must have remembered some time along and told him, archived in his memories.  I couldn’t help but hope that this would help me go even deeper into my past. My name had been lost to me for so long, it was nice to finally have an inkling as to who I was.

My eyes locked with his, as he sat up, pulling me up to my feet. He wasted no time, pulling me down on the bed and rolling me on my back.

Our lips met, the kiss passionate, and yet soft and gentle. He moved lower and lower, kissing his way down my body. I closed my eyes, simply enjoying the way that his mouth felt on me, but gasped as he latched onto my nipple, swirling around the peak while rolling the other in his metal fingers. I moaned out at the different sensations, but I pulled his head up, so he could look me in the eyes.

“Please, I need you inside me,” I was out of breath, but he got the point. My body was already clenching around nothing and  couldn’t wait any longer. A smirk spread over his face, his ego starting to form, a personality that I had never seen before, but his face jogged more and more memories. His fingers trailed down to my core, trailing his fingers through, collecting my wetness in his fingers. I gasped at the feeling of finally being touched, some sort of relief.

“Fuck, doll, all this for me?”

“Only you, no one else.” My rambles were cut off, a moan ripping through my throat as he pressed down on my clit, rubbing rough circles on the bud. His hand trailed downward, and eased two fingers into me, making sure I was ready for him. He pushed in and out a few times, before pulling them out of me, taking them into his own mouth. His face looked like he was eating the best thing he’d ever tasted.

My eyes were glued to him as he began to line himself up, bringing the tip of his cock up and down my pussy, just enjoying the way he looked standing like that. Slowly, he pushed into me, easing his way in until I felt his thighs hit my ass, my legs wrapping around his hips, trying to keep him in this place as I moaned out, the feeling of being so so full filling my senses. His dick snugly hit that special spot inside of me, causing my head to spin with pleasure.

He waited until he knew that I was absolutely ok, before pulling out just as slowly as he went in, almost completely out, before quickly slamming his hips back in, making me scream out. He kept a fast and brutal pace, no longer being able to control himself.

“Fuck, I didn’t know how much I missed this, doll. You’re squeezing my cock so good.” His words only made me clamp down more, egging me on. I bit down on my lip hard, but he leaned down and began to kiss me, pulling my lip out from between my lips. He broke the kiss, settling his face near my ear. “Don’t you dare stop makin’ those noises.”

I could feel my stomach begin to tighten, the familiar knot forming in my abdomen as he kept hitting the spot inside of me perfectly. He must have noticed I was trying to hold off for him

“Cum for me doll, I’m right behind you.” His thumb pressed against my clit and I was done for, my vision going black, as my body shook under him, as I felt his cum inside of me, filling me up.

A word, a name bubbled up to the front of my tongue, overflowing and pushing its way out of my mouth. “Bucky!”

I couldn't see for a minute, my vision cloudy and hazy, but I felt him slip out of me. I whined at the empty feeling in me, as he got up and went to the bathroom. A minute later, he came back, washcloth in hand. Silently, he cleaned me up, before casting the small towel aside, settling on the bed next to me.

“I missed you,Y/N”

“I missed you too, Bucky” The name felt right, the right sounds that fit perfectly with the way he looked and acted. His face softened, as the memories of the two of us hung heavy in the air.

“I know this might be a bit far, but I hate doing this,”

“Me too, doll. I want to remember you.”

“I say when they put us in the chair this time, we fight for the memories, and next mission, we run like hell.”

“That sounds like a perfect idea”

I had thought it out coming back to the facility, how they wouldn’t be able to overpower both of us at the same time, so if we gave no indication that we could remember again, they wouldn’t have any worry. The only problem was where the hell we were supposed to go. I was pretty sure that the facility was in America, the plane that we took was over a large body of water as we came back, and all of the people at the hotel had French accents, or spoke the language. I had no clue who I was, besides my name, and my love for Bucky, but damn if I wasn’t going to find out where the hell we came from.

I was strapped down to the chair, my limbs bound in tight leather to the seat, with a piece in my mouth, and the clamps on my head. They turned the machine on, and pain shot through every part of my body. I felt the memories wanting to fade away, but I shut my eyes, trying to push myself, will myself to remember. The pain was unbearable, so instead I made myself a room. A little room in my head where I would stay with my best memories away from the pain. The room had walls and doors made out of the metal in my leg, a metal I’ve never seen anyone break. I stood in the room, going through the memories, through everything that had ever happened between Bucky and I.

Finally, the machine eased off of its power, and my body relaxed, relieved that the torture was finally over. I searched my mind, and found my little room, intact. I wanted to jump up and down, celebrate my success over the machine that had been the bane of my existence for as long as I could remember, but I couldn't. I stayed strong faced, and yet blank, as I heard the door open and out walked the man, the one they called Pierce. He was our handler.

“Mission Report”

“The two of us arrived at the hotel, we waited for four days until the target arrived, which was when we executed the mission and were extracted.” My voice was monotone and dull, the way I would sound normally after I had been fully wiped, with only memories of how to maim, kill, and spy.

“Very good, you may go to your room now, you have a new mission for tomorrow.” His words were cold, and two of the people who worked here grabbed either of my arms, leading me to the place that I was left to sleep. I looked up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling through my head, did Bucky make it out ok? What did he remember? I could help with that though, the memories would come back. But that was just a part of this. We were going to get out of this hell hole, and no one could stop us.

[therenlover]

Red Nights In Jupiter (A Jimmy Darling/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Tags: Cuddling, Prostitution, Wound Care, Hurt/Comfort, Referenced Past Non-Con (it’s not Jimmy, don’t worry), Implied Sexual Content/Innuendo

Rating: 16+

Warnings*: Mentioned Police Officer Abusing Their Power, Referenced Non-Con, Jimmy Drinks A Beer, Non-Graphic Wound Care 

Word Count: 3000~

* - This fic includes a reader who is a prostitute and has recently been taken advantage of by a police officer in exchange for not going to jail. There are no graphic scenes and it's mentioned only a couple of times in passing, but the ending portion of the fic is Jimmy helping the reader recover from wounds (just bruises/scratches) they got during the incident. If this is potentially triggering, please steer clear!

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

--------

“How did the show go tonight?” You mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

“It wasn’t anything special,” Jimmy responded as you spit, “some dumb kids snuck in a couple of rotten tomatoes but their aim was shit. Nobody got hit, so I’ll consider it a success,”

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder over the tiny kitchen sink in his trailer, clumsily going through the motions to wind down from an exhausting day. Outside the sky was a deep red. The last of the sun’s dying light shimmered over the ferris wheel as it made its last run, cutting through the muggy Jupiter air. In the last weeks of July, everything was sweltering. Even the walls of the little trailer were hot enough to leave a burn in the full heat of the noontime sun. Thankfully for you, as the sun receded so did the worst of the scalding heat, leaving behind a hot, wet, and thick fog over the nighttime landscape.

Jimmy finished washing his face while you rinsed your toothbrush. “Elsa and I were thinking that maybe, in the next couple ‘a years, we should invest in another ride. Not a ‘coaster, nothing huge, just something other than the ferris wheel that would keep the kids busy while their parents watch the show,” As he spoke, he wet a washcloth under the tap before wringing it out and tossing it over his shoulders. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think-” you held your tongue, your biting reply dissolving into bitter acid in your mouth, “I think that if that’s what’s best for the show, we should start investing sooner rather than later. It’s always best to be prepared so we can figure it into the budget ASAP,” With a practiced hand you bundled up your toiletries and tucked them away in the drawer. The shake in your tired digits was barely perceptible in the dimly lit room. What was best for the troupe was what was best for you. Still, you couldn’t help but sneak a gaze at the half-full mason jar sitting on the counter by the door.

“You sure?” Jimmy asked. He was down in the mini-fridge now, pulling out a can of some cheap beer. You closed your eyes and offered a curt nod. There was no need to argue over an impossible dream. If Elsa wanted a new ride, she would get a new ride.

“I’m sure, Jimmy. I’m just tired,”

Thankfully, he accepted your excuse with a shrug, settling in at the pull-down table. “Whatever you say, sweet thing,” he cooed, “now get over here. I missed you today,”

You gave in to his request easily. After everything you’d been through over the last 12 hours, you weren’t about to turn down a little affection and attention from the man you loved. Your sunburnt shoulders stung as you clambered into Jimmy’s arms and allowed your face to settle into his sweet, sweaty embrace. His heart thudded under your ear, a steady quarter-note rhythm guiding your own soaring staccato down to normalcy.

Somewhere out in the field, probably in one of the other rusted-out trailers where your friends were settling down in their own nighttime routines, a radio buzzed to life. The sweet sounds of Paul Anka crooning his newest hit loosened your nerves. Over your shoulder, Jimmy took a long swig from his can.

“How was work?” you whispered. Jimmy set down his drink with a little more force than usual. One of his fused hands found its way into his hair. You both knew you weren’t asking about the show.

“I didn’t make much today, but I’m almost fully booked for Thursday. That’s the last party until next week unless the ladies want to throw something after church on Sunday. Wednesday we don’t have a show, so I’m all yours,”

His voice was tired, a departure from his usual confidence. This wasn’t Jimmy Darling the leader and performer, it was your Jimmy boy, the man who held your broken heart together with his unusual hands. You relished in the vulnerability, letting yourself nuzzle closer to his skin. He smelled like sweat and grease and cheap cologne but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It was him. That’s what mattered.

“I could take Wednesday off, Wednesday is never that busy,” you mused.

“Then we’ll go out on Wednesday,” Jimmy was jovial but not loud, dropping his hand down from his hair to rub abstract patterns into your back above the starchy cotton of your day dress, “I’ll take us down to the beach on my bike and we can have a picnic lunch by the ocean. I know a spot off the road that nobody would ever think to go to, it’s like a private beach we’ll have all to ourselves, and the guy at the deli owes me a favor so I can pick up sandwich stuff for cheap when I run in tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even spend a little extra a grab a bottle of that white wine you like. How does that sound, doll face?”

You hummed out an affirmative, far too deep into your newfound relaxation to form words. Your boneless, half-lucid state made Jimmy laugh. His smile only fell when he found a fresh bruise on your back, making you wince.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, pulling his hand away. You whined at the loss of contact. It was rare for you to have the time to wind down together these days, every second of attention was something to cherish.

“It’s just a bad bruise,”

In an instant, Jimmy had you straddling his lap to face him with your face in his large hands. “Did somebody hurt you?” he asked, running a thumb over your cheek to check for concealer or any small cuts and bruises he might have missed, “‘cause if somebody hit my girl I’m gonna have to show them what’s what. I don’t care if they paid, they don’t get to do that shit to you,”

You couldn’t help but avert your eyes, letting your gaze linger on the veins bulging in Jimmy’s neck instead of his face. It would be too difficult to risk seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “It was a cop, Jimmy. I got busted,”

He groaned. “Those bastards…”

“Thankfully this time he just took what he wanted and let me off with a warning. He’ll be back, though, they always are. I’m sorry, Jimmy, I’m just so tired,” A shudder wracked your shoulders, a silent sob you couldn’t quite choke down. You had to take a minute to remind yourself that you were safe. Jimmy had you. You were tucked away from the world in his arms, and he’d kill someone before he let them do anything to hurt you. Nothing and no one could touch you as long as he was there. When he wasn’t, though…

You gripped his thin, white undershirt a little tighter.

Jimmy was with you, not some stranger who had picked you up off the streets for a little fun. You were at home in your caravan with Jimmy and he was holding you and nothing else mattered. There was no reason to be afraid.

He gritted his teeth. Obviously, your distress wasn’t as invisible as you wished it was. “Don't be sorry, doll, this isn't your fault. You know what? You don’t have to go back out there. There are plenty of other ways we can make the money, sweetheart, just say the word and I’ll make it happen. You never have to deal with them again,”

“But the new ride-”

“To hell with the new ride!” Jimmy was shouting in earnest now, but you weren’t afraid, pushing yourself further into his touch. Part of you liked watching him come to your defense. It was something he would only do for someone he loved, someone who was a part of his family, not just any horny housewife that used him to chase their own desires. “Your safety is so much more important than a new ride a couple years down the line! I’ll go tell Elsa to scrap the idea right now if that means you feel better. You’re the most important thing to me, Y/N. You say jump and I say how high. I’m not gonna force you to do anything, if you choose to keep working I have no right to stand up all high and mighty and tell you not to, but if you do wanna stop… I guess what I’m sayin’ is that I want you to be happy, and if I have to pick up the slack for you to do that then so be it,”

You were cradled against his chest again by the end of his schpiel. Your anxiety wasn’t quite as bad as it had been before, and the newly fallen darkness added a sort of buffer to your feelings. Everything was fuzzier in the dark. In that place past dusk where the problems of the word lost their sharp edges you let yourself abandon everything that scared you during the day. Children were afraid of the things they couldn’t see by moonlight but you relished in the anonymity of the night. Life was much scarier by the light of the sun.

“Thank you, Jimmy, I mean it,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before pulling away from his touch, “but we both know I can’t quit,”

“But doll, I-”

“No buts. I bring in more in a week than the troupe makes in a month, not to mention that I get half the essentials for the mess tent at a discount from customers who are sweet on me. Someday, and that day can’t come soon enough, we’ll have enough saved up to get out of here, but until then we both just have to do whatever we can to make that future a reality,”

Jimmy nodded, draining the last warm dregs from his beer and tossing the empty can into the trash. “I just hate thinkin’ about you standing out there alone while those assholes look at you like a piece of meat,”

“I get by well enough,”

“I know you do, but you can’t blame me for worrying,” In a moment of drowsy bliss, you let a soft yawn escape your lips. Jimmy grinned. “Are you fallin’ asleep on me?”

You offered him a loose, gummy smile. “Maybe a little,”

He was quick to sweep a well-muscled arm up under your knees, lifting you up bridal style. You let out a small shriek of surprise. Jimmy didn’t let that distract him, though, as he carried your wriggling form over to your shared bed before setting you down with a low chuckle. “Now dollface,” he said, pulling off his sweat-damp undershirt and the washcloth that had been resting on his shoulders, “you up for a little bit of the Jimmy Darlin’ magic tonight, or would you rather just cuddle?”

“Can we just cuddle tonight? I’m still sore as hell. That asshole cop had me up against a brick wall and didn’t exactly take the time to lighten up his grip when I started to bruise,”

Jimmy nodded. “I tell you what,” he said, running a fused digit over the top button of your dress, “first let’s get that dress off you, then I can rub on some of that arnica gel we got as a gift from the new girl last month, alright? She said it helps with bruises. Once you’re all taken care of, then we can cuddle,”

“That sounds heavenly,” You smiled up at Jimmy as you unbuttoned the front of your dress, easily sliding out and discarding it as he changed out of his work jeans and into some thin cotton pajama pants. Your bra came off last, and much to your surprise your beau didn’t spend much time ogling you, instead turning quickly to go recover the ointment from the shelf in the bathroom.

From your viewpoint on the bed, Jimmy looked like Adonis. He was always handsome, sure, but you loved how the moonlight hit his bare back, revealing each plane of thick, workers muscle as it caressed his skin. As your eyes fluttered closed, you could almost feel the ghost of his body above yours. The radio across the field was still droning on outside the window. In your bed, watching Jimmy putter around the trailer and listening to the fuzzy music that drifted in from the outside, you felt complete for the first time in a long time. There was only one thing left to do that could make you feel better.

“Jimmy,” you asked, “tell me about the future?”

He turned to you with a sigh, the glass jar of arnica gel in hand, “Doll, I’m no Dr. Seuss...”

“Pleeeease, Jimmy,” you whined, “for me?”

It didn’t take anything more for Jimmy to give in. “How could I ever say no when you ask so nicely,” He sat down at your side on the bed, nudging you to roll onto your stomach and give him access to your bruised and scraped back. As he began his gentle probing of your wounds, he started to talk.

“Once we save up enough money,” he whispered, scooping up some gel from the jar before rubbing it into a particularly tender purple spot, “we’re gonna get out of here. You and Ma and me will find a nice little house somewhere with some land, and we’ll be happy there. When we get there, I’ll find a job somewhere where people won’t gawk at me. I can work construction or grow produce in the yard, and you… you, doll, will finally get to rest. You can stay home with Ma, cook, sew, read; you’ll never have to sell yourself on the streets again,”

You squirmed under his touch. “Now tell me about the kids,”

Jimmy groaned. “Really?”

“They’re the best part!”

“Alright, alright, because you won’t stop buggin’ me I’ll talk about the kids, but next time I’m down and out after a fight you’d better return the favor. I expect you to talk my ear off about all the sinful things I wanna hear while you’re busy holding a steak to my eye,”

You grinned. “Since when have I ever let you down, Mr. Darling?”

“Not once, sweet thing,” he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before going back to focusing on your flesh, now doing more of a massage on the less marred areas than anything else. “Now where were we?”

“The kids, Jimmy,”

“Oh right, the kids!” You let your eyes drift closed as he spoke, relishing in the feeling of his hands against your skin. Every moment in his arms was heaven. It was a real shame the rest of society didn’t see him the way you did, but it kept any potential competition away, and for that you were grateful. Life without Jimmy would be like baking with no sugar; just plain wrong. “Once we have our own place and the money is coming in, I won’t have to waste my pocket change on rubbers anymore. I’ll get you nice and pregnant and then, after nine months of getting looked after by yours truly, you’ll finally have your own little Darling, yours an’ mine. Won’t that be a sight? A little Jimmy Jr. runnin’ around in the yard, absolutely spoiled rotten by his grandma. I dunno much about bein’ a good dad, but I sure as hell know what not to do. No matter what the child ends up looking like, I’ll be there every step of the way. Who knows, if you and I get real busy we may have a whole brood of Darling children before long,”

You wanted to offer up some sort of placation, a witty reply, but you found that your tongue was too heavy and your eyes were drooping lower by the second. It was cooler now that the moon had started her ascent into the night sky, cool enough to stay comfortable with the little air conditioning unit in the window running full blast. Suddenly, the bed shifted next to you as Jimmy screwed the top back onto the jar and got up to return it to its shelf.

“Hey, Jimmy?” you called, voice thick with exhaustion. He was quick to respond, slotting the jar into its place and stepping out of the dimly lit bathroom to check on you.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your back and getting comfortable on top of the sheets, “I just wanted to say I love you, so much,”

Jimmy was back at your side in an instant. “I love you too, doll. I dunno what I ever did to deserve you-”

“Oh stop!” your words were slurred now, dripping from your lips as you watched Jimmy climb into bed. You found your place at his side quickly. It was muscle memory to link your leg with his and set your head on his chest no matter how tired you were. "You're the most handsome, wonderful, perfect man I could have ever asked for Jimmy Darling, and don't you forget it!"

“It’s time for sleep now, doll,” he whispered, burying his face in your hair and wrapping his arms around you, “There’s plenty of time to talk about how wonderful you think I am in the morning,” The smile on his face was clear from the tone of his voice, but you heeded his words, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep while he protected you from the rest of the world.

Things weren’t perfect. You would still wake up the next day and watch the man you loved leave as both of you sold your very bodies in search of an impossible dream for the future, but that was okay. As long as Jimmy was by your side, everything would be.

--------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this fic! I intended for it to be a short drabble where I could practice writing for jimmy, but in the end I’m really happy with how it turned out. This is, genuinely, something I’m really proud of, so please let me know if you liked it. Thank you so much for supporting me!!!

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

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

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

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

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

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A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

I Don’t Wanna Do This Anymore - Bucky Barnes

Um, idk. All I can say is I love this man.

Warning: Suicidal and depressing thoughts throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't that long since you'd been saved from Hydra.

A task to kill an Avenger didn't pan out to be so simple, especially when said Avenger recognized you, forcing everyone else to refrain from killing you no matter what.

It didn't take a lot of work to get you to remember Steve, he was your best friend once.

Thankfully, Hydra hadn't completely turned your brain to mush and you could quickly control yourself enough to not kill everyone you saw.

Yeah, you were saved.

But ever since, you haven't been doing well, mentally, at least.

You felt homesick, as fucked up as that was. Hydra was your home for years, and now you had to find a new normal, if that was even possible. But living in the Avenger's tower when you were rescued proved to be a bit difficult...

Everyone greeted you with a weary smile, often, obviously aware of your reputation. You found yourself annoyed, not even by the people, but how little your kill count was compared to others. Although, you were a bit more creative with your kills, that was probably it. It was hard to blame them for being scared of you, even you were scared of yourself.

Steve trying to reassure you was no help, even though you knew he meant well. There was nothing in the world that could reassure you, not when you could feel the fear and disapproval boring in the back of your skull when you walked through the halls of the busy tower. Even walking the halls at night, you felt your whole existence cringe at the thought of being someplace you knew you didn't belong.

You almost wished someone had killed you back when you were under Hydra's control. Maybe things would be easier if you had just been killed, then maybe you wouldn't feel how you felt every waking moment.

The only thing keeping you going was knowing that Bucky was alive.

Steve told you about Bucky when he thought you didn't remember anything back then, but you knew, you knew too much. You knew Steve probably wouldn't want to hear about how you remembered hearing his screams when Hydra first started their Winter Soldier experiments, about how he slowly started forgetting who you were. But, so did you.

Everything about being controlled by Hydra was agonizing, but the one thing that pained you to no end, even after regaining your memories? Being forced to forget Bucky, even if it was temporary, even if it was just for a second. That was absolute hell.

Lagos happened, causing the Sokovia Accords.

From your perspective, you weren't even an official Avenger and the government was already trying to control you. You'd been controlled enough, so the thought of signing your rights away wasn't appealing. Then again, you didn't do much anyway. And the one time you tried to help out, people died, even though it wasn't your fault.

So, you signed, immediately feeling like you had betrayed Steve.

Then the UN meeting in Vienna was bombed, and Bucky was being blamed for it. Steve thought he didn't, and frankly, neither did you. But Bucky was taken anyway.

Even with him in custody, you couldn't see him, which was a blessing and a curse.

You didn't know Bucky anymore. The feelings that you had for him back in the 40s seemed to fade away along with your mental state every time Hydra blended your brain. You still felt something for him, that much you did know, but you felt so detached from your emotions that you had no way to know what you were actually feeling anymore.

When Bucky broke out, you recognized all the signs that he was back to the Winter Soldier. He had a dead expression, not even hesitating to beat you down when you were in his way trying to stop him.

You felt guilty for not wanting to see him, even when Steve told you that he was himself again. You stayed in the building with Tony and Nat, listening in to Ross telling them they needed to capture Bucky and Steve. Of course, you had to let Steve know, ultimately choosing the side against Tony.

You might not have known him anymore, the both of you going through too much trauma to be as close as you were back then. But he was still Bucky, one of your best friends. So was Steve.

But during the fight in Germany, you kept your distance from Bucky. It might've seemed like you were afraid of him, afraid of confronting him after he hurt everyone in his path when he tried to escape.

It was sort of true, you were afraid, but not specifically because of him. You weren't afraid of getting hurt. It was a lot of things.

When Zemo used his trigger words, you felt guilty for being thankful it wasn't you he tried to use. You couldn't try to talk to your old friend when you had that thought initially. It was an awful, awful thing to think. But now, you were paying for it.

You were forced to hide out with Steve and the rest of his team that sided with him in Germany, but you never felt more alone.

You had nightmares every night, and they only seemed to get worse.

You were afraid of yourself, afraid that someone like Zemo would find you and say your trigger words, causing you to hurt the people you've come to care about. Meeting and getting to know all these people, you'd rather die than hurt them, especially Steve.

He tried to help you realize that Zemo was locked up, that nobody would be able to find you guys, but you couldn't help but feel scared, constantly looking over your shoulder. Knowing about Wanda's powers, you even went to her to see if she could do something to help you, to no avail.

You always avoided the mirrors in your room. You didn't like looking at yourself, you hated your face, you hated every part of yourself. When you looked in the mirror, all you saw was a disgusting broken creature undeserving of love. All you saw was every innocent person you've killed, your nightmares reminding you constantly of that. You didn't know how much longer you could go on being afraid of yourself.

Steve wanted to help you as much as he wanted to help Bucky, so it wasn't that much of a shock to everyone else that he wanted to send you to Wakanda.

You didn't know much about the place, you always thought it was a third world country, but your ignorance was definitely crushed when Steve told you about how technologically advanced the country actually was.

The first thing you asked was, "Will they be able to fix me?"

So you were shipped off to Wakanda, king T'Challa greeting you with a warm welcome along with his sister. The word "deprogram" came out of Shuri's mouth a lot, but you tried not to let it scare you. You knew this needed to happen.

Following Shuri to her lab that was in a more remote part of Wakanda along with a couple Dora Milaje, you found yourself looking around in search of a certain someone. You knew he was here, somewhere. You didn't know if he was "deprogramed" yet. You didn't even know if he was going to be in the building. You didn't know why you were so anxious to know if he was nearby, you'd most likely run the other way.

Shuri noticed how you twitched and squirmed nervously while getting ready to go through the first procedure, your eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Don't worry. If we can help White Wolf, we can help you."

Your brows seemed to furrow more in confusion. "White Wolf?"

"Oh, sorry. That's how we refer to Sergeant Barnes."

Huh.

"So, what it this treatment suppose to do?"

"It'll remove the response to the words Hydra used to control you."

"That's it?" You frowned slightly.

Shuri sighed, taking a seat next to you. "It's what's safest. I know what you're going through is painful, but if it'll be impossible to take away all of your emotional trauma without taking away everything about you that makes you you. Do you understand?"

Your gaze fell to the tiled floor, tears involuntarily welling up in your eyes. "At least I won't be able to hurt anyone..."

Shuri gave you a weak smile. "That's the plan. Shall we get on with it?"

You took a deep breath, and nodded.

Thankfully, any pain that might've been felt during the procedure didn't happen, as you were put under. A part of you wished you could've been wide awake, the control freak part of you wanting to know what happened, but you trusted Shuri enough to let her do her job.

You felt exhausted, but couldn't help but wonder what exactly the little genius did to you, but she stayed silent and gave you a cheeky smirk when you asked, which only frustrated you.

Shuri soon led you to where you would be stayed to recover. A small hut in an area that had a few more huts that you were able to call your own. It was a secluded place, far away from central Wakanda, the next closest village being only a mile north. So, you weren't going to be entirely alone, Shuri would often visit you to see how you were mentally, and you had to stay and meditate with a couple elders that would be staying in the vicinity.

All that was missing was one person, but Shuri already told you that it would be a couple weeks of daily check ins before you would be allowed to wander around freely, T'Challa's orders. You understood, it was good that he wouldn't take any chances. But you were stuck for now.

Before she left, Shuri gave you a box but you hadn't opened it until later that same night.

You tried not to scoff when you saw what the box held. Self help books? Give me a break...

You felt too broken for any sort of book to help you, no matter how many people would say it would actually be helpful. Perhaps you were too pessimistic, that's all you ever were these days. It had been so long, you couldn’t even remember if you were optimistic in the days before Hydra. It would be a bummer if you were like this all the time.

You thought, maybe, just maybe, if you saw Bucky again, things might be different. And finally, after a couple weeks, T’Challa gave you permission to roam about freely within the area he granted you, which happened to be the same area Bucky was in.

You wracked your brain over and over again if going to see Bucky was a good idea. Your heart wanted to badly to see him, but your brain always gave you excuses to doubt everything. What if Bucky didn’t want to see you? What if he’s afraid of you just like you’re afraid of yourself? The one thing that gave you that push was thinking another what if, what if Bucky missed you too? That what if question was something you had to find out for yourself, even if you didn’t like the answer.

You had to know.

Plus, you knew you had to face him eventually. You didn’t know it at first, but seeing him again in Germany made you feel a rush of emotions for him that you didn’t entirely understand. But now you knew, and you didn’t want to be away from him any longer.

You trekked towards him slowly, still not confident in yourself enough to actually go through with it, you wanted the chance to run away if you felt like you needed to.

You couldn’t help but lightly smile when you saw him. He helping a few little kids gather up hay for what you could only assume was for the rhinos that you saw, purposefully tossing bits and pieces of hay towards them playfully. You knew Bucky was always good with kids, you even imagined what it might be like to be a mother from time to time, but circumstances you found yourself in persuaded you to think it could never happen. But still, it was like a breath of fresh air to see Bucky still had that side to him.

You convinced yourself that you’d confront him another time, when he wasn’t busy. But it was too late for that, Bucky had seen you on the hill leading down to him. He thought about letting you go when you started to turn the other way, but he couldn’t control the sudden urge to call out to you.

“Hey.”

You froze dead in your tracks, slightly biting your lip in hesitation before you turned back to face him. You smiled weakly when you saw his slightly hopeful gaze. He stretched the corner of his mouth into a soft smirk, inviting you to meet him all the way with his eyes.

“Y/N.” He greeted, a bit nervously, when you finally made it down the grassy slope.

“Bucky.” You replied, your nerves coming across very clear in the waver in your voice. He furrowed his brows slightly. “What?”

“You never call me Bucky.”

You shrugged. “Then what should I call you?”

“You used to call me James.”

You nodded with a breathless chuckle. “That was mostly to annoy you.”

“Well, I didn’t really mind when you said it.” He smirked, but it fell when he quickly noticed your covert face of discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost amused at how well Bucky was able to read you like a book after all this time. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not...used to it anymore, I guess.”

Bucky frowned. He knew what you meant. All this time not being able to have a normal conversation, one that wasn’t barking orders or advising on when would be the right time to kill whenever you two were on missions together. He understood your usual banter from before wasn’t something that you could just jump back in to. It took a while, but he eventually learned how you worked, especially when it came to talking to people.

Bucky looked over you subtly, taking in all your nervous ticks that you still had the habit of doing, ones that he always thought were adorable in their own way. He could tell you weren’t the same, both of you changed, but seeing you act in a way that you did even before Hydra, it was refreshing.

“You also used to call me doll dizzy.” Bucky smiled fondly.

You mirrored his smile, remembering how annoyed he’d get. “You were quite a ladies’ man back then. But I don’t think calling you that now would suit the time we’re in.”

“Since when have you ever followed social pressures? You’re the one who wanted to join the army right along little Steve. I was so pissed when you got assigned to our mission.”

“Ah, you were just mad that I could beat you in a fight.”

“Could you now? I have no memory of that ever happening.”

“Well, I’ve always said you have selective memory.”

“Don’t recall that either.”

“Like I said.”

Bucky smiles, chuckling. “I do remember I could beat you at an arm wrestle.”

“No way that ever happened.”

“Now who has the selective memory?” He teased. You chuckled, looking down to the ground as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re also wrong about me being a ladies’ man.” He said, making your raise your brow. “You were the only dame I had eyes for.”

You felt like the blood in your body went straight to your cheeks, you could probably slap an egg on your face and it would cook from how hot your face felt. Damn him, he was always good at making your blush, that was always something you missed, but you hated how scared it made you now. “Bucky...I-” You sighed, not knowing how to respond, if you should respond at all. You didn’t know how to do this, you didn’t know how he could just go back to the way things were, you didn’t know how you could keep up with him.

“I’m sorry, I keep doing that.” He huffed. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore either, if that makes you feel any better.” He laughed sadly.

“I’ve thought about this, for a long time.” You started softly. “I knew it would be hard. I don’t...I don’t even know how to live anymore, much less have a playful banter with someone. It’s like I have two separate lives, both fighting for control and I-” Your voice wavered, stopping your spiel as you tried to fight off tears.

“Y/N...” Bucky moved closer to you, cautiously, the last thing he wanted to do was spook you.

“I don’t know how to do this...I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” You admitted tearfully.

You let Bucky envelop you in a warm hug, even with one arm he made you feel safe. “You’ll get through this. We both will. With Shuri’s help, we don’t have to hurt people anymore.” He whispered, pulling you closer. “We’ll get through this together.”

“I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to leave you, Bucky.” You cried into his shirt, holding him close.

“You won’t have to, ever again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ha, I’m sad 🤙🏻

[purple-dahlias]

recovering- chapter 1

word count: 1854

trigger warnings: eating disorders, disordered eating, mental health

this is the beginnings of me turning recovering!au into a multi-chapter fic, something i’ve been planning on doing for quite a while now. enjoy <3

She knew it was a problem, even before she had started medical school. Long before she knew about the intricacies of health and disease and diagnostic criteria. Knew it was something that wasn’t quite normal; that having these thoughts and plans wasn’t in the usual remit of a high school girl. It certainly seemed it wasn’t something any of her few friends had to deal with. But then again, even if it wasn’t normal, it wasn’t really like they’d noticed that anything was wrong. So maybe it wasn’t so bad. In any case, if she was questioned, she peppered them with excuses, ranging from not being hungry to needing to go to the library or not wanting to spit out the gum she’d just put in. It seemed to work. They didn’t bother her about it any further. Just a nod and a smile before carrying on.  

Yes, she hid it well, under layers and layers of clothing and her thinly veiled excuses. But it would have been nice for someone to really notice. Because to be noticed would have meant being known, which would have meant someone cared enough. Her own mother was hardly ever about, out being a big shot lawyer or whatever, and her father... well. That was something she didn’t want to talk about at all. Ever.

Days slipped by and so did the pounds off the scales. School became college and Sarah found herself in pre-med. It had always been her plan. She loved the order that science bought. The lack of messiness. The way there was an explanation to everything. It suited her just fine. Gave her something to channel her energy into. Something to focus on, even when things got tough. Which for her, unfortunately, seemed to be pretty often.

It was an unhealthy habit, she knew. Destructive, even. But it was something that she had control over, that she could manage. The one thing that was constant, because she could make it so. Monitoring portions and her proportions obsessively. It became a habit, something ingrained into her, second nature.

And so, it continued, unnoticed. Perhaps to many, it seemed there never really was an issue, how could there be? She looked fine. Mostly. It was only if you looked closer, beyond the façade and the walls and the excuses, that it could be seen. But that was hardly often. In fact, it was rare. Sarah Reese was good at keeping her guard up. It also didn’t help that her circle of people was so completely, incredibly small, which meant that really, most of the time, there was hardly anyone who could notice.

She also knew just how to manage things (so she thought). She’d take her vitamin supplements to ward off deficiencies, anything that might look like something was wrong. Continued to cover up in long sleeves and high necks. Perhaps it was a blessing when she was accepted to study medicine in Chicago. Certainly, the cold weather there warranted layers amply enough that no one would question it, no one would be able to tell.

There was a point, perhaps when this had first all started, although it’s hard to put a definitive moment or timescale on when all this began, it had become such a fundamental part of her, that she had wanted, hoped even at times, that someone would discover what she was doing, would say something, would tell her, help her, show her it was wrong. If that had happened early enough, things just might have turned out differently for her. Better.

It had, earlier, been a secret hope of hers, that maybe her mother would see, would call her to her, bring her in close, help her. That had never happened. Their relationship just wasn’t one where one could talk about such things. Confess to not be doing well. It was just expected of Sarah to carry on. To get on and excel with school and her work. And for her mother to know actively how Sarah really was, well, that wouldn’t go down well at all. Because from Sarah’s mother’s point of view, Sarah was fine. She had a good life, a roof over her head, was more than provided for, her grades were good, there was nothing she could complain about. Nothing that would warrant her not doing well, not mentally. Not her daughter.

And sometimes she still hopes for someone to discover it all. Thinks of doing something ever so much more reckless in order to be noticed, for someone to be concerned enough to do something. But she also doesn’twant that. Because that would mean stopping. And when a thing like this has been a part of you for so long that it’s become a crutch, a way to handle everything, it’s terrifying to think about who you would be without it.

Occasionally, though, there were moments where she’s wracked with guilt and regret, all because she knows this is all so wrong. Things shouldn’t be this way. She shouldn’t be this way. At those times, it’s a struggle. For a time, common sense will overrule and for a few days, maybe weeks, there’s a sort of clarity for her, and things go back to being as close to a ‘normal’ as Sarah can get. But there’s always a slip. With her there’s always a slip.

Medical school was proving to be lonely. Sure, there were people around, girls Sarah would want to know, to be friends with. People who probably would also want to be friends with her. Somehow, that had never happened. Yes, there were the occasional people who would invite her out for coffee or a study session or to the movies. But she always felt like she seemed to push everyone away. To her, it seemed she was to forever be the person on the peripheries, the one who walked through the outskirts of others’ lives, who would be easily forgotten. That she could never really be one to maintain any kind of relationship, evident in the way that as time went on, those offers and invitations to meet up became scarce. And perhaps that had something to do with the way she was bought up, the introspective part of her thought. The way her mother had always been different. The way her father had left. How, if her mother ever did speak of her father, she always said he was someone who could never maintain a relationship for long, always had a habit of burning bridges. Could that be a genetic trait? Something Sarah had inherited? Sarah pushes those thoughts down deep inside of her. She never wants to be like either of her parents. Hates that it is a very strong possibility, one that she’s not quite sure she has the power to overrule, especially if you looked at her track record. Instead, she goes back to what she can control. Restrict. Measure. Count. It goes on in cycles. Worse when she was on a downward spiral, slightly better when things felt clearer.

So, it was surprising to her, on her rotation in the ED at Gaffney Chicago Med, that everyone (almost) seemed to like her. That there was genuine care and concern for her. How Maggie and Dr Manning would, for wont of a better word, mother her. How Dr Choi and April and Dr Rhodes and Dr Halstead were always so kind to her, so helpful and patient. How they would all look out for her. It was certainly a far cry from what she was used to.

Family. That was what Dr Choi had called her.

It had left Sarah feeling stumped, but warmed inside, knowing that there were people who cared about her. And for the first time in a long while, she found she could breathe a little easier. That maybe, maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was.

Sure, when she started in the ED, it was only because it was mandatory, just a check box exercise and then she would be done, ready to work down in the labs. Exactly where she had wanted to be. But now she wasn’t so sure. The messiness of life and people in the ED had got to her, and not in a bad way. Yes, it was trying. But it had grown on her. She had learnt to love it.

But that left her now with a dilemma.

For as long as she had thought about a career in medicine, it was with no intention to be patient-facing. She knew she would be perfectly happy with a career tucked away down in pathology, somewhere she could hone her logic and scientific skill. And of course, there was Joey, who had supported her in her decision, and alongside everything else. (Although now she’s not quite exactly sure where things stand with him).

She just can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s doing something wrong. And Sarah knows that’s dangerous, because whatever decision she makes will stand to influence the rest of her career. Not to mention that signing off on a residency post was a legally binding contract. Pathology was what she wanted though, wasn’t it? Even after all the time she had spent with everyone in the emergency department? And all that self-doubt just comes creeping back in, settling deep in her bones, filling every corner of her, making it just so easy for things to return to how they were. To slip again.

Perhaps at first it doesn’t accelerate intentionally. Mainly it’s just that she’s trying to keep herself busy, push herself, that she forgets meals. But then she finds she’s not missing out on anything, really. That she likes how it feels. It doesn’t help that she is so good at being able to conceal things now, underneath her scrubs, which were ill-fitting on anyone to begin with, anyway. Her shifts in the ED give her an easy excuse for missed meals, because of course, she has patients to be seeing. It’s a perfectly reasonable way to mask it all.

So she continues, unnoticed. And maybe, it makes her think, in those moments where she’s left solely alone with her thoughts, they never really did care. That it was because it was their professional duty to look out for her that they did. But other parts of her think that no, this is good. Them not noticing. It means she can continue on. Because that was the plan, wasn’t it?

Even when she practically faints in front of Will. But it’s just so simple to go with the excuse that seems most likely. She fainted because she was stressed. She was stressed because of match day. A vasovagal syncope. And because, at least to Will’s work-up, everything seems fine, no more is said. It’s deemed a one-off episode and she’s fit to continue. He doesn’t seem to be concerned about the way she hardly drinks the orange juice he gave her. So she shouldn’t be, right? There was clearly no reason to be. It was all just business as usual: she wasn’t sick.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents. 

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?" 

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach. 

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple." 

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience." 

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?" 

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level." 

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully. 

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly. 

Everything was going according to plan. 

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all. 

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised. 

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious. 

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised. 

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted. 

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look. 

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled. 

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you." 

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…" 

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!" 

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No." 

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue. 

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck. 

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock. 

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit. 

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled. 

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment. 

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit. 

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second. 

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-" 

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner." 

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine." 

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow. 

"Is someone a little sensitive there?" 

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight. 

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock. 

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful. 

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing. 

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go. 

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was. 

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down. 

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off. 

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious. 

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around. 

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards. 

Jack swallowed roughly, confused. 

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you." 

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth. 

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this-- 

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair. 

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that." 

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!" 

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning." 

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing. 

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again. 

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

[shyinadarkplace]

Bucky are you still there?

Summary: When their Soul bond is broken, the reader unable to bear the pain tries to end it all. The only question is will Bucky make in time to save her?  (Please be kind this is my very first time publishing a work)

Pairing: Bucky x reader. *I do not own Bucky Barnes or Sebastian Stan or any of his works*

Word count: 5k (I am sorry I might have gotten carried away)

Back ground info: This is an AU where there are Soulmates. If the connection between soul mates is somehow broken the mates have usually at max four years before everything gets unbearable. Also Tony is alive.

Prompt: Mountains/Forest and the song “Jealous” by Labyrinth. I also included another song “Dark side of me” by Coheed and Cambria. There is also an original poem by me in there.  *I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE ANY OF MY WORK AS A WHOLE OR IN PART, IN ANYWAY, ON ANY PLATFORM. *

Warnings: Proceed with caution. TRIGGER WARNING: There is mention of blood, extreme depression, suicidal thought and tendencies. That’s all I can think of, but please if you need help with any of the above mentioned things https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  1-800-273-8255.  Please please reach out.

Title: Bucky are you still there?

Outside a winter storm raged deep in the Taiga, and while you were warm physically inside you felt just like that storm. You felt like the swirling mass of ice and snow, like the -54° C that currently raged outside your home. The added fire that sat blazing in front of you did little to assuage the pain that wracked through your chest. The ring on your hand glinted in the firelight. A familiar wave of heartbreak began crashing through you, even after all this time. When the much too familiar tears fell, another layer of ice layered around your heart. You stared into the fire and let your mind wander where it would, allowing your grief take its course.

Memory of your first meeting:

There was a pull in deepest part of your being. A tingling in the back of your mind. He was close. You could feel him brush across your consciousness like a gentle rain, and you returned the gesture. The room seemed to full of people why did Stark tower feel so crowded today? All you could do was stand frozen where you were running up a metaphorical flag screaming here I am. Your eyes quested searching desperately for someone doing the same, for the one who turned your spark into a firestorm. Suddenly there he was. Your eyes met and suddenly it was like you were falling, but gently, into warm blue eyes, into dark strands of hair and stubbly jawline. In man and muscle. Falling into him. Your feet were moving before you even realized it. Standing face to face with him, you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest “Hello, I’m (y/n). I have been waiting for you.) Your voice barely above a whisper almost afraid that if you spoke to loud it would somehow be just a dream. “Hello doll, my name is James Buchanan Barnes. I am so glad you waited.” Thus began your world wind love affair with the Winter Soldier, Bucky, White Wolf. And it was perfect. You two were perfect for each other been through so many of the same things. It was like you had discovered the theory of everything right then and there.

“6 years ago. Can you believe it Benji. Just six years ago Earth was upside down as a planet, but personally I was in heaven. I had met my soul mate.” The big wolf hound/wolf mix just laid his big black head on your lap, offering the silent comfort he always did. “We were married for three years. It was like magic.” A fresh batch of tears ran down your face. It had been 3 excruciating years. 3 years of feeling utterly alone. You had heard what it was like when someone lost their soulmate, it was like they were a zombie. They lost some of their humanity. It was like when a clinically depressed person masked, they looked and sounded fine for the most part but something was just off. Most of the time when one lost their soul mate they died too, unable to carry on without them or unwilling too. So many times you had been tempted to walk out in weather like this and let the Taiga take you. So many times you sat staring into the flames and thought about ending it all. After all there were thousands of ways to die. It had been 6 years since what the world came to call the Endgame. Since something had snapped inside Bucky during that battle and he had vanished. The end of the third long and bitter year was coming up, a person can only take so much.

Memory: You were probably 100 yards away from him when it happened. You could feel something wrong with Bucky, you had to get to him and help him. You got distracted next thing you knew a long thick metal rod had you staked to the ground. You couldn’t move it was embedded too far in the ground behind you. So you fought on like that, on the ground taking blasters and weapons from anything you fought with as the Super serum running through your veins kept you alive, easing the bleeding. You kept fighting hoping somehow you would be able to get up to get to Bucky. Hot tears streamed down your face and a scream ripped savagely from your throat as suddenly the constant connection that you had with Bucky was gone. It was like it had never existed. All you could feel was an iron wall. Utterly impenetrable. You couldn’t tell if it was just the limit of your consciousness or if it was him somehow cutting you off. Or if the worst had happened. Then the world went black.

When Steve found you, you had passed out from blood loss. You were in a coma for a week due to the severity of the wound but you remembered your dreams and they were sweet.

In your dreams it was just after you and Bucky had gotten married. A week to the day actually. You had curled up beside him and asked you could read him something you wrote. He didn’t need to say anything. All of his attention focused on you. A blush crept up your neck as you read what you had written.

“You always looked like trouble but the very best kind.

Even before I knew what you looked like.

You looked like everything I wanted at 16.18.20.26.

You looked like whiskey and smoke before I even knew the taste.

You looked like a hot rod idling at a stop light.

You looked like my addiction before it developed. Like my favorite kind of pain.

I don’t know how but I always just knew, that your eyes where blue. Blue. Such a cool tone. The kind that reminds you glaciers or ice cubes against passion heated skin. Like Blue flames, that seemed to sear clothes off with a glance, and pool fire in my belly. And when you smiled I really knew you were trouble then. But the best kind. The kind I couldn’t live without. The kind that kept me breathing. When you smiled at me the first time, I was yours.

The first time with you…oh god it was like nothing before. I had spent so many hours over the years before I met you, day dreaming about my fingers in your hair, your hands blazing trails of fire against my skin. Your lips crushed against mine…

By the time you placed your hand against my cheek and started kissing me, it was like you had kissed me a thousand times before. By the time your hands caressed my skin in expectant reverence (a shock to my system) it was as though your hands had always known my skin.

When I touched your skin, I was in awe at the newness of the sensation and yet it was so familiar. As I felt like your hands had always known my skin, I felt I had always known yours.

That first time didn’t feel like the first time. It felt like we had been together since the beginning of time. I didn’t need to question anything, because we knew each other so intimately words were not needed.

No need for words because I knew where to kiss you, as if some instinct worked within me. Knew where to touch. Knew how to kiss you wherever my lips landed. Knew when to bite and when to soothe. I knew it because you had always been mine. I was made for you.

No need for words because you knew, knew when to be gentle, when to be firm, knew everything you needed to get me high. With you it was natural as breathing. You brought me back to life the way a smith does a cold forge. With you it was the first time but it felt as though we had been there a thousand, thousand times before.

When I first saw you it all became real, I had already spent years falling in love with the idea of being with you. In the ease and comfort and debauchery of your presence. Suddenly every dream I had ever had about my soul mate blazed into existence.

You looked like my addiction when it formed, like my favorite kind of pain. You looked like someone I had loved a thousand, thousand times. “

You two had been so tangled up in each other it was hard to tell where he ended and you began, the line between him and you blurred. You were in complete bliss. At least while you were sleeping.

Steve was there when you woke up. As soon as you saw him and not Bucky your heart began to fracture. It looked like he had been crying, like he had not been to slept. Everything inside you went cold. Your mind reached out for Bucky, for the comfort of your soulmate and touched…nothing it was like he was dead. But he couldn’t be right? Even though you felt like you were dead, with the only sign that you were alive being the beeping of the monitors in the room, he couldn’t be, right? But that is what it felt like because there was just…nothing like the connection had never been. You tried again and again to push past whatever was stopping you but it was no use because there was nothing for you to grab on to. “(y/n) you have to stop pushing against that wall. It won’t help.” Steve’s voice broke and he took your hands. “It won’t help, he’s gone and…and we don’t know where he is or if he is gonna come back. So you…you have to stop pushing and focus on you right now.” He wiped the tears from your face and gave his best smile, though it did little to ease the pain “You have to be stronger than ever. I know that I am asking a lot. But you’re his best girl and you gotta be ready to kick his ass when he comes back.” All you could muster was a small twitch at the side of your mouth. “If …I was his best girl…why’d he leave me Stevie?” you whispered so softly he could barely hear but damn if it didn’t break his heart.

Then it was dark again. This time there were no comforting dreams. Steve sat there by your bed and let his chest heave as he cried quitely. He cried for a lot of reasons. After a while he stood up, and left the room for the first time in days. He knew he would have to be there for you if you were gonna make it so it was time to get cleaned up and eat something, maybe try to catch some sleep. There was a long road ahead.

It was a whole day later when you woke up again. Steve was sitting in the window of your hospital room. “Hey Stevie… see anything good out there?” He jumped at the sound of your voice and grinned at you. “Hey there sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he said softly coming to sit next you once again. He took your hand and when he squeezed gently, you squeezed back. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Honestly? I feel like my insides have been scrubbed with sandpaper. I feel raw and bloody…I feel the most incredible pain and yet completely numb. But…” You paused trying to steady the sick feeling in your gut. You looked directly in Steve’s soft blue eyes and they offered a little comfort in their familiarity. “But…” you continued “I know I need to get out of this hospital bed. I need to regain my strength and take care of myself, because I know he is out there. I have to find him Stevie. Now I need you to tell me everything.” Steve nodded a slight grin coming to his face “I knew there was a reason you were meant for that punk. I will tell you everything but how about you shower, get changed and we get you some food first huh?” You sighed, it bothered you to put off the inevitable but you knew you probably smelled like a trash truck and you were hungry. So you did what Steve asked and you two had lunch together. For a couple hours you both pretended like all was right in the world.

When Steve finally started talking it sounded more like a debriefing and less like his best friend was missing, honestly though it was almost easier that way. Thinking of it like another mission rather than losing your soulmate. “Well, to be honest I can’t tell you a whole lot. All I know is that Buck and I were maybe 10 feet apart. Everything was fine. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. I can’t say what happened, one second I looked over and he was fine. He was Bucky. The next he was Winter Soldat. Then Tony snapped and the fighting stopped, but I lost sight of him. I guess once there was no enemy he just took off. We do know that he stole a Wakandan air ship, but he must have damaged enough of the important components to make it untraceable. We don’t know where he is. I can guarantee though that he learned from last time, we won’t be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found.”

You took a deep breath eyes closed. The urge to just give up right then and there was almost overwhelming. You knew there were ways to kill a super soldier. Hell you had come pretty close to it in the past. “Sweetheart, don’t go there. We both know it won’t it won’t work.” Steve’s voice yanked you sharply from the dark thoughts that crept into your mind. You sighed “Yeah, I guess you are right Stevie.” There was nothing either of you could do, except move on. Survive.

After that you and Steve were as close as could be. When you couldn’t sleep you it always seemed like Steve was up to. If you needed comfort he was there. You did everything together. Both of you knew it wasn’t really healthy but at the same time it helped with the healing. You went to therapy and got mental help. You stayed combat ready. You continued blowing minds working with Tony and Shuri on tech. You picked up new hobbies like gardening, and painting and drawing. You did everything you could to keep yourself somewhat distracted from the hollowness that ate at you.

You never cried in front of anyone but Steve, but everyone knew. Even if they couldn’t hear the crying they could hear the music that came from your room. No matter the tune no one knocked when the soft static of your record player was on. You were living in the past, trying to cope the best way you could dancing alone to songs that you and Bucky loved. Listening to your past and his with every pop of the speaker. Sometimes Steve would stand outside your room with his head pressed against the door and just listen. He’d sway along with the music because it brought back memories for him too. Eventually he would feel guilty because he wanted nothing more than to go in and take you in his arms. Kiss you. Comfort you. Part of him believed that Bucky really was gone. Part of him didn’t think he even had a soul mate and he was so fucking lonely. But he never did. If anyone ever noticed, they never said anything.

A year had passed since Bucky left.  A year you spent in therapy, spent pretending every god damn day that you didn’t want to just die so the pain would stop, clinging to Steve like a fucking life raft and Steve clung back. You both knew it wasn’t healthy but you needed each other in ways that other people couldn’t understand. Steve was the only other person who really knew Bucky. Who could understand the things that you had went through. Who was just as lonely as you. Steve was your best friend. The day after the one year Painaversary, something incredible happened. Steve finally met his Soulmate. It hit you like a slap in the face from Hulk. You had already lost your Soulmate but now you had to lose your best friend too.

Steve sat on the edge of your bed staring daggers in to the floor. He kept his eyes down when you came out of the bathroom. “Hey there (y/n/n). You wanna tell me why you have what’s the word ‘ghosted’ me for the past week.” His voice was cold and harsh. Not what you expected. Not that you had been expecting Steve to be sitting on your bed when you came out of the shower but the tone he used was the more shocking thing at the moment. “You know why Stevie.” You said moving quietly to get dressed, unable to bring your voice above a whisper. He didn’t look up until he heard a soft sob. You were standing fully clothed in Bucky’s sweats and a worn t-shirt, with your head against Bucky’s dresser. “You know why. Just because Soulmates can’t be unfaithful doesn’t mean this is okay, Stevie.” In his heart he knew you were right but it killed him, gently he picked you up, turned off the lights and tucked you into bed. Then like most every night before he climbed in behind you. His body heat a silent invitation more of a pull like a magnet, one that you couldn’t resist right now. So you snuggled into his arms your back against his chest. As he wrapped his arms around you, he whispered voice rough with emotion, “This doesn’t have to end (y/n/n). “You knew what he was trying to do. “Stevie. It’s okay. We’ve been holding on to each other so tightly because we both were drowning. You can’t make Janey hurt. It’s okay. We will still hang out, but no more late nights like this.” It hurt to say. If it was possible he pulled you closer and held you closer. His heat wrapped you up like another blanket. You sighed. He just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He could feel your tears on his arm as he held you. Why did it feel like his heart was getting shredded? For a while there was silence. “Stevie?” “Yeah sweetheart.” “I miss him so much, this hurts so fucking bad. Why did he leave me? I wish I would have just died there. It would better than this.” You curled up in a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping somehow it would help. Steve sat up, propped all the pillows behind him, picked you up like you were a child and tucked you safely against his chest. The sobs and half screams that tore from your throat brought tears to his eyes. All he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, kiss the top of your head and whisper “I know sweetheart. I know. I’m here. I got ya. We’ll find him I promise. We will make all of this right. I promise.” Eventually there were no more tears to cry and you relaxed. Your voice was hoarse when you whispered “I was to move to the Taiga.” “Alright sweetheart we will make it happen.”

            A month later you had everything you needed to move. Tony had help you engineer a sort of mini arc reactor that supplied your home with 100% clean energy, and all of the wood used to build your house and furniture (which admittedly was a lot) was sustainably farmed, all of the pipes that brought water to the house from the lake had all been lain with minimal disruption to the landscape.

Stevie was the one who came along and helped you actually build the little house. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and living room. It was a cozy little place, all the modern amenities but an old time feel. Plus you had your 1945 Jeep and a snowmobile. You had everything you needed.

You and Steve held hands as you stood back admiring the house one last time.

“Looks good sweet heart. You sure you are gonna be okay out here?” His voice was light but the concern was evident by the gentle squeeze he gave your hand.

You heaved a deep sigh “Yeah. Yeah. I think I will be fine. I feel better here and now than I have since he left. I promise I will keep in contact. I mean how could I not according to Tony I have my own satellite.” You returned the squeeze of his hand to reassure him. Gently he pulled you into a great bear of a hug. You were pretty sure if you hadn’t been a super soldier he probably would have broken you, you just laughed and hugged him back. “I want you to know I love you (y/n/n) and hell I’m going to miss you. So please be safe and if you need anything call, okay?”

“I love you too Stevie, I will miss you too. I promise I will call okay. Hey you better get going you got places to be.” He held you for a moment longer, kissed the top of your head and said “Yeah you are probably right. But before I do I have one more thing for you.” He goes over to his jeep and pulls out a box with holes in it. As soon as he sets it down you open it, to be greeted by the most adorable ball cute you had ever seen in your life. You picked it up finding that it was a puppy. “Janey picked him out for you. He is probably going to be huge, but she thought he would be perfect to keep you company out here.”

“Tell her I said thank you. I think this is just what I needed.” You said cuddling the sleeping puppy to your chest. Steve nodded and smiled. You watched as he went and started his jeep and drove away. You felt as close to content as you could with your heart in ribbons.

Present

By the time you snapped back to the present the fire was low. Benji was asleep at your feet and the howling outside had stopped. You decided to grab some coffee, bundle up and go outside to watch the night sky. It was breath taking. The Northern Lights danced and swayed shifting colors as they went. The stars shone brilliantly uninhibited by light pollution. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly started to hum as you watched the night.

No one knew you could sing. All evidence destroyed from your operative days, no one knew except Bucky. Your heart swelled and your eyes closed. You lifted your face toward the sky and started to sing and you thought it was fitting when the words only came to you in Russian, while the one person you wanted to hear was god knows where. Still he was the one you sang for…or perhaps you sang for the memory of him.

“Я завидую дождю. (I envy the rain)

Он падает на вашу кожу (It falls on your skin)

Он ближе, чем мои руки.(It’s closer than my hands)

Я завидую дождю.(I envy the rain)

Я завидую ветру (I envy the wind)

Она течет сквозь твою одежду (it flows through your clothes)

Он ближе, чем твоя тень. (it’s closer than your shadow)

О, я завидую ветру(oh I envy the wind)

Я завидую ночам. (I envy the nights)

Которые я не провожу с тобой (which I can’t spend with you)

Интересно, с кем ты лежишь рядом? (I wonder who you lay next to)

О, я завидую ночам. (oh I envy the nights)

Я завидую этой любви (I envy this love)

Любовь, которая была здесь. (this love that was here)

Осталось поделиться с кем - то еще (left to share with someone else)

О, я завидую этой любви (oh I envy this love)

Потому что я пожелал тебе всего самого лучшего. (Because I wished you all the best)

Все, что может дать этот мир.(all this world can give)

и все же ты меня бросил. (still you left me)

но мне нечего прощать.(but there’s nothing to forgive)

Но я всегда думал, что ты вернешься и скажешь мне, что все, что ты нашел, это ...

(but I always thought you would come back and tell me all you found was…)

Горе и страдания(grief and suffering)

Мне трудно сказать, я завидую этому пути.(its hard for me to say, I envy the way)

Ты счастлива без меня (you are happy without me)”

Your voice broke as the last note sounded. Subconsciously you reached for ghost of the connection you shared with Bucky. For a moment you almost thought you felt something brush back. Tears welled up as you fell to your knees in the snow. You couldn’t take it anymore. A scream of pure anguish ripped through your body.

After a moment you collect yourself and took the knife you always carried from its sheath. You stripped off your coat and laid it on the ground. Rolling up your sleeves you smiled softly thinking that maybe once you were gone in a way you would be with Bucky again.

There was no hesitation as you drove the knife blade into the pulse point of your wrist and slashed up, not waiting to repeat the process to the other side. You lay on your back and gaze up at the sky. In the distance you hear a motor. No it couldn’t be. Felt something brush against your mind. You smiled at the thought of your brain trying to make you fight. You knew it was going to take a bit longer to bleed out since it was so cold. You didn’t mind it would be over soon anyway.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but your eyes started to feel heavy. Black started creeping into the edge of your vision. You let out a sigh finally.

“(Y/N/N)!!!!!!!! NOOOOOO (Y/N/N) PLEEAASSEEE!!!”

You could see a blurry figure coming toward you.  You knew that voice. It was like they were moving in slow motion and talking underwater. But that couldn’t be right.

Suddenly you heard that stupid motor again. Then something touched your skin. For a moment you felt fireworks. You opened your eyes. “Fuck (y/n/n) please hold on. I am so sorry doll. I’m so sorry, please don’t go. Please.” Bucky’s voice rang in your ears like a call to prayer. “Baby girl please.” His voice was hoarse and choked up. Barely able to speak through the lump in his throat at the sight of you.

You forced your eyes open and took in the sight of him for what would probably be the last time and whispered “Buck?” Then the world went dark as a scream that was like the torture of a thousand hells ripped and tore through the landscape.

In the aftermath a melody played 

"In those discouraging days

I always missed the mark When we were comfort and close I would neglect to keep

Oh, you safe and unexposed A portrait of time repeats This moment now replaced With an empty wish to give I give, I gave

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Now in your absence I wade Through the coursing, lonely, lost And in this tragic dismay I never could believe what I became

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This welcomed war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me

Oh, I couldn't give you What you needed It's all my fault Too coward to believe I lost it all

I gave my everything For all the wrong things In this cold reality I made This selfish war machine

Oh, this has become hell How can I share this life With someone else? I promise you There is no weight that can bury us Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt

Here in the dark side of me Here in the dark side of me"

 "Buck are you still there? I don't want to die."

[sbtlns]

Invisible String

Warnings: description of panic attack, mentions of death

A/N: Sorry for not posting in a while, school’s been crazy! As always, my requests are open. I hope yall enjoy (◕ᴗ◕✿)

“Y/N it’s for your own good,” Castiel said in a pained voice. Your heart clenched as he took another step towards you. You shook your head, too terrified to respond, taking another step back until your back hit the wall behind you. The pain was clear in Castiel’s eyes, not wanting to do this but knowing that he had to in order to keep you safe. He spent billions of years alone and when he met you everything changed. Ever since the Winchesters introduced you to him, he was drawn to you, as if there were an invisible string pulling him to you. When you finally revealed that you could see his wings, it all clicked for him. You were his soulmate, indefinitely and irrefutably. Unfortunately for Castiel, nothing good came without a cost.

Shortly after the two of you made your relationship official, heaven caught word of it and immediately made attempts to break it off. You had been kidnapped more than once and each time Castiel and the Winchesters barely made it to you in time. Castiel knew that this was starting to take a toll on you, but he also knew he wasn’t strong enough to leave you. He finally made his decision after exhausting all of his options, all except one. He knew it was to protect you, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“Cas,” you gasped, a sob threatening to wrack over you. “Don’t do this. Please,” you begged as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Castiel kept his glassy eyes locked on yours as he closed the gap between you. “There isn’t another way, my love,” he said, voice ladened with heartbreak. “I’m sorry, Y/N, truly,” he said, reaching his hand out to your forehead. You tried to move away from his hand, but there was nowhere to go. You shivered as you felt his fingers press against your forehead, your surroundings suddenly spinning around you. 

When the spinning stopped, you found yourself on a sidewalk outside of a storefront. You looked up to see a stranger with dark hair and the bluest eyes you had ever seen. A breeze ruffled through his trenchcoat as he stared at you with a pained expression. Drawing your jacket closer around your body, you hesitantly asked, “um, can I help you sir?” You saw his throat bob and his jaw clench before he muttered a quiet “no” and turned to walk away from you. For some reason, you felt inclined to walk after him, as if there was something pulling you towards him. You started walking to catch up with him as he neared the crosswalk and turned to look at you one last time. The pain in his eyes made your heart clench, but you couldn’t explain why. You picked up your pace to meet him but he had already crossed the street. You were about to cross as well, but a few cars came speeding through. After they had passed you went to cross but the man was gone. 

You stared down the street bewildered. Slowly you began to realize that you didn’t recognize any of your surroundings. Panic started to settle over you when you couldn’t remember where you were or how you got there. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember anything, not your family, not your friends, not your job, not where you lived, hell-not even your name. You felt your chest tightening and it got harder to breathe. Trying to snap out of the impending panic attack, you realized that you might have some form of identification on you that could trigger some memories. You quickly pat your jacket pockets before moving down to your jean pockets, sighing with relief when you felt a lump in your back pocket.

You took the wallet out of your jeans and quickly thumbed through to find an ID. “Y/N L/N,” you muttered to yourself. Maybe my phone has more information you thought to yourself. More panic washed over you with the realization that you didn’t have a phone on you and it was starting to get dark. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself before making a plan. Shelter, you heard your instincts screaming at you. You took in your current surroundings, spotting a 24/7 diner further up the street. You started towards it, deciding that the staff would probably be able to point you in the direction of a motel in town for you to stay until you figured out what the hell was going on. A familiar feeling washed over you as you walked into the diner, a comforting and nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t place. 

The woman at the counter had given you the name of a motel not too far away, so you set off to get a room. Once in your room, you realized just how exhausted you were and passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. In your sleep you dreamed of those piercing blue eyes and the unknown pain behind them. When you woke up, you decided to hit up the library you had passed on your way to the motel last night. You made a beeline to the computers to see if you could figure out anymore about yourself. After typing in your name, you clicked on the top result, “Eighteen Year-Old Sole Survivor of Animal Attack.” You read in horror as the article described a camping trip you had taken with your family that had ended abruptly with an unexplained animal attack, you were the only one who had made it out. You felt a familiar wave of grief reading the names of your deceased parents and siblings even though you couldn’t place them in your memories. After coming up with little other information on yourself, you came to the conclusion that you were on your own with no one else to go to. 

The sound of your stomach growling pulled you away from your thoughts. Not knowing a lot about this town, you decided to go back to the diner from last night. As you were eating your food, one of the waitresses stormed out of the kitchen screaming “I quit!” behind her. Your waitress, who was just about to top off your coffee, looked to the door she had stormed out of and back to you. “Need a job?” she asked jokingly. “Actually,” you started, wheels turning in your head. “I do.”

You started working at the diner, using your paycheck to pay for your semi-permanent stay at the motel while trying to also save up to get an apartment. You made friends with the other waitresses there and you reluctantly told them your story. Suddenly in a foreign place, no memory of how or why you ended up there. The girls helped you through it, offering spare clothes, money, and good company. 

One day, you were refilling a customer’s coffee when out of the corner of your eye, you saw a tan trenchcoat passing by the storefront. You immediately whipped your head around to get a better look, but it was gone. You kept your stare out of the window until you realized you were spilling coffee on the table. You quickly wiped it up, apologizing profusely. You gave one more longing glance out of the window before getting back to your other tables.

This wasn’t the only time you were reminded of the stranger. You still dreamt of his piercing eyes, waking up in a cold sweat every time. A few times, you could’ve sworn you saw the trenchcoat in a crowd of people walking past the diner’s storefront, your heartbeat speeding up every time. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months of you stuck with unanswered questions.

You were ringing in a table’s order one day when your friend came up behind you. “Don’t look now, but there’s a total hottie checking you out.” You laughed, not looking up from the register. “If he’s such a hottie, why don’t you go take his order?” you asked. She scoffed before replying, “I would but..he’s not even at a table he’s just staring from outside.” This piqued your interest. You looked up from the register with a cocked eyebrow, trying to follow her line of vision. Your breath caught in your throat when you met his piercing blue stare. Keeping eye contact, your legs started numbly carrying you towards the door. This seemed to startle the stranger, as his eyes widened and he abruptly turned to walk away. You ignored your name being called by your friend and kept walking towards the door, picking up your pace determined not to lose him again. 

Your friend yelled your name as you swung the door of the diner open, eyes frantically searching for the tan trenchcoat. You ignored your name being called for the third time as you spotted the trenchcoat and started sprinting towards it, feeling like an invisible string was pulling you towards him. You finally caught up to him when another group of people cut him off from crossing the street. “Hey!” you yelled as you got closer to him. He stiffened, before slowly turning around. 

You stared into those blue eyes, swimming with a mixture of pain and guilt. You suddenly realized that you had no plan on what to say to him, figuring you wouldn’t get this far. “Um,” you started, not really knowing where to go from there. “I’m Y/N,” you said, sticking out your hand for him to shake. He looked down at it hesitantly before looking back up to you. An awkward moment passed before you said, “this is the part where you shake my hand and tell me your name,” you laughed, pushing your hand closer to him. With a shaky breath, he took your hand and said, “I’m-”

Suddenly thousands of memories flooded your brain with the contact. You remembered two tall men introducing you to the stranger with huge black wings spread behind him, Sam..Dean you thought. You remembered a hunt going wrong and a werewolf pinning you against a tree before your stranger smote it, saving your life. You remembered sitting with Sam, Dean and your stranger in a diner booth, laughing at the way Dean shoved half of his burger in his mouth with one bite. You remembered shooting up in bed from a nightmare with your stranger sitting on the edge of your bed ready to soothe you back to sleep. You remembered sitting in the backseat of the Impala with your stranger, singing loudly to an old Bob Segar song off one of Dean’s cassettes. More memories flashed before your eyes before suddenly they stopped and your vision was clear. Your grip on his hand tightened and you looked up at him with wide eyes. You took a shaky breath before finishing his sentence.

“Castiel.”

[stormkrigeren]

Whumptober Day 4!

Link to the Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/85303615

Title: Hostage - Clark

Prompt: No. 4 ‘Trust Fall’ - “Do you trust me?”, taken hostage, pushed

Trigger Warnings: threats

Word Count: 1763

Dinner-dates with Lois were always nice - good food, stimulating conversation, and excellent company were all a man could ask for, and she certainly made it interesting. Tonight they had picked out a local Italian restaurant in the university district and talked about… well, everything. How his mom was doing, what books the other was currently reading, the subway construction, Clark’s latest article, Lois’ most recent investigation - drug smugglers bringing in goods from Gotham, of all things - and whether lasagna was better with red sauce or alfredo. The discussion moved towards housing prices after Black Zero over a shared dessert of cannolis, and developed into a playful debate over whether the high taxi fare was worth it considering that it was twice as fast as the subway when they finally walked out of the restaurant.

Lois’ apartment wasn’t too far away and the weather was good, so they opted to walk hand-in-hand, simply enjoying each other’s company while they explained whatever articles they were currently working on. Clark was just beginning a short series assigned to him by Perry on recent changes made to libraries in the district and what sort of effects the changes might have on schools and poorer neighborhoods - a bit fluffy, not necessarily investigative but enough to get his wheels turning as he fit all the pieces together. Some of the Metropolis city council members were recommending closing the libraries a bit earlier in the afternoon, which Clark - bookish nerd that he was - was strongly against, and he proceeded to rattle off a list of statistics and arguments that pointed out the issue with shortening library hours while Lois bounced the ideas right back at him with a bit of journalistic review. She herself was currently in the thick of a story revolving around a smuggling ring that was gradually importing narcotics and other illegal items into Metropolis - from what she could tell, the drugs were coming from all over but a majority were ferried over from Gotham. Lois explained in a low voice as they walked that a tentative lead had pointed her towards Mal Sharpe, the owner of a few small businesses in the downtown of both cities, who seemed to have his hands in many pies… including drug trafficking. There was a low-priority warrant out for Mal’s arrest, but that warrant would soon be at the top of everyone’s list if Lois had anything to say about it.

Clark grinned at that, knowing full well that with his girlfriend on the case, it was sure to be resolved within the week. Gently steering the topic towards where they should go for dinner next week, he looped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek just as Lois turned to do the same. But instead of her arms slipping beneath his open coat to pull him close, Clark instead felt a sharp tug on his shirt collar, abruptly ending the kiss as it was followed by a kick to the back of his knees.

He hardly felt the blow, but it still caught him by surprise and Clark inwardly cursed when he realized that he had been so focused on Lois, he hadn’t noticed the two men sneaking up behind them - and when one of them pulled out a gun to press it against his head, Clark reconsidered fighting back and silently complied when he was once again shoved to his knees.

Lois’ eyes widened at the sight of the two criminals shoving her boyfriend to the ground, then narrowed dangerously when she spotted the gun in one’s hand and the knife in the other’s.

“What do you want?” she asked slowly, gaze flitting between the knife now pointed at her - a sure threat of what would happen if she screamed for help - and Clark calmly putting his hands on his head in surrender as they waited to be told to hand over their wallets. They both knew that a gun against Clark’s head wouldn’t do him a bit of harm, but their captors didn’t know that and if this was just your common-or-garden hold-up, they would simply comply and Superman or the police could get back whatever was stolen as soon as they were let go. But therein lay the issue: Lois was getting the feeling that this wasn’t just a robbery. It, unfortunately, looked an awful lot like a goddamned hostage situation, and her suspicions were only confirmed when the man holding the knife spoke up.

“Boss heard that you were sticking your nose where it isn’t wanted, writing a story about some stuff he brought over from Gotham,” he answered, “So Boss has decided to send you a very clear message: drop the story, or your boyfriend here is gonna go to bed tonight in a body bag.”

Clark winced as the gun was shoved against his skull, emphasizing his captors’ point, but Lois, instead of looking downright terrified, happened to look downright pissed.

“Alright, you’re Mal’s boys, aren’t you? I imagine that he’ll be pretty pissed when he hears that your hostage plan fell through.”

One look at her face, and Clark’s already-a-bit-dismayed spirits dropped - she was going to try something, and he wasn’t sure if it would end well. He knew for a fact that the gun currently pressed against his temple wouldn’t do him much harm, but it was still a little nerve-wracking to keep up the act of being scared while actually, genuinely scared and making sure said gun wasn’t pointed at Lois.

Clark was… well, Clark was a farmboy. He had grown up in the middle of Kansas where just about everyone’s pa owned a rifle of some sort, so it wasn’t as if he had never seen a gun before, it was just that he wasn’t used to having one pointed at him. Duck season had made him plenty familiar with what guns could do, and even though he knew it couldn’t hurt him, that did not mean that he was completely comfortable with it and to be perfectly honest, it made him just a little bit sick to his stomach.

“It ain’t gonna fall through,” one of Clark’s captors glowered suspiciously, breaking his train of thought, and Lois almost snorted in derision at the claim, hands on her hips as she snarled.

“Look, dumbass, anyone who's read the Daily Planet knows the sort of people I go after, and they also know that said people almost always end up behind bars. I’m not your cocky, everyday journalist who happened to dig up some dirt on your operation - nah, I’m ‘Mad Dog’ Lane, Pulitzer Prize investigator, queen of the front page - and if you think pointing a gun at my boyfriend’s head will get me to drop a story once I’ve got it in my teeth, than you’d better fucking think again!”

Clark felt both men stiffen behind him, clearly rethinking having messed with someone as well-known as Lois, but their fear of Boss Mal’s wrath was just the littlest bit stronger than that of a tall red-headed journalist cussing them out.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Lane,” the man with the knife said decidedly, working up the courage to take a threatening step towards her, “But if you don’t want to do this here, we could easily take both of you along and get this whole thing cleared up in front of the Bo-”

Clark should have expected her to know at least some basic self-defense moves, considering her history of going into dangerous warzones and offices only to walk right back out with the info she wanted and a few bruises on her otherwise flawless figure, but seeing her in action was admittedly a little surprising. Lois Joanne Lane was an army brat through and through, so it was honestly no trouble to knock the knife out his grip with a simple wrist chop and the same ferocious elegance she used to mix her coffee. A moment later, she had kicked the weapon out of the man’s reach, sending it skittering across the asphalt, and promptly disabled her would-be attacker with a sharp knee to the crotch.

While his friend was groaning on the ground, the man holding Clark hostage fumbled with his gun, suddenly caught off-guard and having to decide between threatening his captive and pointing the weapon at Lois before Clark made the decision for him. Remembering the few moves Darcie had managed to drill into his head during one of her failed attempts to teach him the proper way to hit someone, he shoved his elbow back to make contact with the man’s nose, careful to limit the amount of force he used so that the bone was only broken and not the entire face. It worked better than he had expected, and before he knew it, both of the attackers were lying on the ground, one squirming uncomfortably and the other trying to stem the flow of blood suddenly rushing from his nose.

Clark hardly noticed their screaming as he jumped to his feet, absently rubbing the spot where the gun had been pressed against his head as he caught Lois’ arm to ask, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” she all but laughed, her good mood not disturbed one bit by the whole situation, “Damn, this will make for an excellent follow-up piece to the article on Mal and his gang’s activities. What about you, babe - are you feeling okay?”

“Me? Yeah… I’m fine too,” he answered slowly, even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. Having a gun to his head had shaken him up more than a little, despite the fact that they both knew it couldn’t do him any harm.

It’d been frightening, knowing that both him and Lois were in danger and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, yet her ecstatic mood - over a hostage situation, he had to remind himself - was more than a little infectious, and he was already feeling a little bit better by the time she had managed to get ahold of the police to report the incident. By the time they had given their statements to the two officers that arrived to the scene and finally reached Lois’ apartment, his anxiety was finally beginning to lose its clenching hold around his lungs and a hot cup of tea diminished it further - it was only when his hands finally stopped shaking that the hilarity of the whole situation finally dawned on him. Clark couldn’t wait to see Darcie’s face when she heard.

[indiemick]

The Seduction of the Duke of Suffolk || Part 7, The Nightmare

This takes place somewhere between season 3 and 4 of the Tudors. Read these first Trigger Warning: age gap, sex, affair

Francis paced his quarters for hours after the feast. He couldn’t shake the feeling Colette was hiding something from him. Why would she feel the need to lie about talking with the Duchess? What could be so damning that a lie was warranted? He wasn’t ignorant to the rumors that circulated around about his bride-to-be and the Duke of Suffolk. He inquired about them with her father and he was reassured that the rumors were just that, rumors. Perhaps, it was time he asked Colette.

In the morning he set out to locate Colette. She was among a group of other women when Francis approached. “Ladies,” he greeted them with a respectful nod.

“Francis,” Colette cooed at the sight of him. He was certainly a good-looking man. He grew into his awkwardness from their youth. Colette blushed thinking about what might lie beneath the layers of his finery.

“Would you ladies mind if I borrowed Colette?” His accent made half of them blush and the low timber of his voice made the other half shutter.

“They don’t mind,” Colette added with a chuckle. “I will see you all later,” and she took Francis’ arm.

Francis took a deep breath. It was nerve-wracking to pull the words together to ask the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with if she was having an elicit affair with another man. He didn’t want to anger her with an accusation. He didn’t want for it to be true. He really didn’t want to ask. However, not asking would leave the rumor hanging in the back of his mind until the end of his days.

They approached a small bench and Francis motioned for Colette to sit. “Francis, are you alright?”

Francis ran his palms over his thighs and exhaled. “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Colette let her face wear the worry building inside her. She dug around in her mind for something. Charles did come to mind but he couldn’t have seen anything from the feast. They stopped before he saw her.

“Are you…” he paused as the words were caught in his throat, “… are you intimate with Charles Brandon?”

Colette controlled her reaction. One wrong facial expression and she would give it all away. “Where is this coming from?”

“Answer the question, Colette,” Francis didn’t stop the frustration from coming out.

“No.”                                                          

“Then why did you lie about talking to the Duchess?” Her brows furrowed. How did he know it was a lie? “She was back at the feast talking to your parents when I saw you.”

Colette pursed her lips as she tried to think of something. Francis watched her carefully, waiting for an answer. “I didn’t want you to think I was up to something devious.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Walking alone.”

“Why?”

“We had just become formally engaged. Everyone was asking me about it. The comments about my age and how lucky I was someone was still interested in marrying me.” She frowned. “I needed air.”

Francis cupped her face and held her gaze, “I am the one who is lucky.” Colette laughed softly. “They just don’t know you like I do.”

“You really feel that way?” Francis nodded. Guilt settled in Colette’s heart. She truly didn’t deserve him. She needed to end the affair with Charles. She knew that before but looking into Francis’ eyes made that even more pressing. She would end it even if it made her heart ache.

“I can’t wait for when we can be husband and wife.” He placed a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose.

“When might that be?”

“I will know once I receive word from my father.”

Their conversation was disrupted as the King as his men came down the corridor. Francis and Colette rose to their feet and waited for them to pass. Charles was in attendance and his eyes met Colette’s. Francis caught the quick smirk from the Duke and the rouge in his fiancée’s cheeks. Any reassurance he had prior to was lost. Something was going on between Colette and Charles. He knew it.

#

Charles Brandon was heading down the corridor when he made eye contact with Colette. Her widened eyes and panicked expression led him to believe that she was avoiding him. He had suspicions that she was since every time he spotted her, she magically vanished. He didn’t want to assume but her face said it all.

“Lady Gilles,” he approached her. She couldn’t sprint away in a crowded corridor. He needed to know why there was a sudden change in her reception of him.

“My lord,” her eyes stayed focused on the ground.

“May we speak?”

“Is that not what we are doing?”

“With less prying ears?”

“I would prefer it not…”

Charles hooked her arm with his elbow and lead her for a walk. “Why do you suddenly not wish to talk with me?”

The young woman grumbled as she tried to keep up with his long strides.

They made a quick turn and he spun to face her. “Answer me,” his commanding tone made her quiver. She damned him for having such an effect on her. It was going to make ending things so much harder. “Colette…”

She looked around before speaking, “Francis asked me if we were having an affair.” Charles pursed his lips and ran a hand over his beard. “Precisely. We cannot meet anymore.”

The rational man that Charles had become knew that their time was over. He knew it was over when she accepted Francis’ proposal for marriage. It was the youthful ignorance Colette ignited in him that hoped it would continue.

His lips pressed to her forehead with a sigh, “Goodbye, Colette.” Something about his goodbye felt like it was forever. It made tears prick the corner of her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they broke free and rolled down her cheeks. Charles heard a soft sob and lifted her chin to look at him.

The world seemed to slow. Their lips hovered over one another begging for the other to break the stalemate. Charles caressed her cheek.

He felt as if he was drowning and she was the surface. How he wanted to breathe that sweet air. All he needed to do was bring his lips closer. Although, he knew it would be fleeting. He would have to slip beneath the surf and let the ocean of his heart break take him under for good.

A hand slipped to the small of her back, as her fist gripped the collar of his coat. The tension hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.

The sudden clearing of a throat caused the two to part. Colette quickly whisked her tears away and looked at Charles who looked as if he had seen a ghost.

Colette turned around slowly and was met with the familiar eyes of her father. His face was taught with anger. The Earl moved with heavy steps toward the pair and stared down at his daughter, “go.”

“Father…”

“Go. Lord Brandon and I have to have a word.” Colette stared up at her father with tears in her eyes, but it didn’t ebb his fury. “Go.”

With the click of Colette’s shoes fading, her father narrowed his gaze on the man before him. Charles was a large man, which meant the Earl had to crane his neck to look at the other square in the eyes. “I have one child on this Earth. One. The Lord has blessed me with a witty and beautiful daughter. I will not have her reputation sullied by the likes of you.”

Charles chose his words cautiously as if not to offend or enrage Lord Gilles. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I beg for your forgiveness. I assure you, what you saw was as far as it goes.”

Lord Gilles studied Charles for a minute before speaking, “stay away from her and my forgiveness is yours.”

Charles gave the other a quick nod, “you have my word.”

#

Colette was running down a long corridor. Her chest heaved against the tight corset bound around her as her lungs burned for more air. The echo of her heels hitting the floor was drowned out by the sound of her blood thumping in her ears. She came to an end and made a sharp turn. Then, she kept running.

Finally, she arrived at a weathered door. She tried to steady herself before entering. Breathe, she thought to herself. Just breathe.

Her fingers trembled as the latch on the door gave way. Her nerves tingled with anxiety as it slowly creaked open.

“Colette?” She heard a familiar voice call from the darkness.

“Yes,” she rushed in to meet the man who waited for her. “Where are you?” She searched around the darkness before she felt the familiar form beneath her fingers.

It was like nothing had changed. If anything, Charles’ lips hastily exploring hers was more impassioned because they were treading into dangerous water. Even his touch seemed hotter. It singed her flesh as his palms found their ways to her most tender flesh. He breathed against her neck as a small moan left her lips.

“Why, Colette?” Her eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the question. Rathe, it was the voice that made her stark with fear. “Why?” She knew the accent anywhere.

“Francis?” She shoved him away and scurried away.

“Why are you doing this to me?” She didn’t have to see his face to know the sadness that tugged at the corners of his mouth. She knew the look of sorrow was of her doing.

“I’m sorry, Francis. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?!” Then his tone changed from sadness to rage.

“I don’t know!” Colette felt the words leave her mouth like hot coals raking across dry earth. She felt the tears prickle in the corners of her eyes.

“Why?!” He screamed one more time.

As she drew the breath in, Colette shot up in her bed. Her mother came rushing in followed by her father. “Colette?!” The young woman was trying to catch her breath as her eyes met the others’ worried expressions.

“You screamed,” the Earl added.

“It was a bad dream.”

“Good. Now, go back to bed.”

[eatsleepandsupernatural]

Saved - Chapter Six

Pairings: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Some mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 2000ish

Tags: @goddessofmischiefs @akshi8278 @flutistbyday2020

A/N: Hi Guys! Hope you’re all staying safe! Here’s chapter 6 for you to enjoy. I kept it light (changed the ending a little) because I’m not sure when I’ll next get to posting. As of next Wednesday, I start back with online classes. I’ll keep writing in my spare time (please send me request, I love to fill them!). Once I have worked out how much time I need to put aside for class, I’ll see if I can add an uploading schedule for Saved. 

Saved Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

   "I want to take you out tonight." 

   You whipped your head away from the dishes you washing and spun around to meet your Alpha's lazy gaze. He looked as handsome as always, leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest, accentuating his strong muscles. The sight of him made your stomach flip.

   You were shocked, to say the least. It had been over a month since Dean had brought you back to the bunker and with the exception of the short daily stroll he would take you on, you hadn't stepped out the front door since. Not to mention the intense dominating behaviour he had been exhibiting. For the first few days after you arrived back at the bunker, Dean kept you in his room, surrounded by his scent, barely letting you leave his side. Half the time he spent scenting you, his head buried in your neck to make sure you were still there. You understood his need to be close to you, so you didn't complain, but you certainly weren't use to the constant contact and were relieved when the Alpha's anxiety eased. The second week you were allowed out of his room, and you spent a lot of time watching movies with Jack in Sam's bedroom. You weren't sure if you were amused or frustrated when Dean's head would appear around the doorframe every twenty minutes. 

   You deserved the Alpha's distrust after the stunt you pulled, and you didn't think he was going to change his attitude anytime soon. You narrowed your eyes as you attempted to read his mind, you were curious as to why the sudden change in plans. Despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, you could see fear and curiosity in his eyes that he failed to hide. Scared that you might run away again, curious to find out if you would maybe? You wouldn't. 

   "Um, sure." You remembered to reply and turned back to the plate you were washing. "Where are we going?" 

   A warm hand grabbed your hip, and you were all too aware of his presence, he chest flush against your back, his warm scent full of leather and wood cascading over you, "I have a few ideas in mind. Dress casually, we'll leave around seven." 

   Dean didn't move straight away, the hand on your hip slowly easing up higher, sneaking under your shirt and over your stomach, leaving a trail of shocks. Your body responded without permission, and you leaned into his chest, your heart beating erratically. 

   A gasp escaped your lips when Dean pulled his hand away abruptly, you turned around just in time to catch his teasing grin as he walked off. 

   The rest of the day passed slowly, you spent most of it curled up in an armchair reading. Jack and the three Alphas spent most of the day sitting around the map table muttering amongst themselves. At one point, you had gotten up to find out what they were talking about, but Dean stiffened at the sound of your approach and gave you a warning growl. You assumed that whatever they were talking about was monster related and clearly "none of your business". You would have been offended if it hadn't been for Sam's friendly smile as you made your way back to your favourite chair. You lost yourself in the story of The Catcher in the Rye, wishing you were living back then in simpler times, without secondary genders. Before you knew it, the clock was hitting six o'clock, and you desperately wanted to shower before your date with Dean.  

   Once back in your room, picking out your clothes became the hardest thing you had to do. You were well aware that Dean had told you to dress casual, but you felt none of your clothes were suitable. Your frustration grew, you had never been in this situation before, and you were growing impatient with yourself. You took a deep breath and decided on some worn jeans, a simple t-shirt and a denim jacket that had been amongst the clothes Sam had brought back for the second time. 

   A quick knock on the door was immediately followed by Dean's head poking through the gap. 

   "You ready to go?" He asked, eyeing you up and down. You felt yourself calm down immediately in his presence, and you fought down the instinct to wrap your arms around him and snug into his chest. 

   "Yep." You replied, smiling back up at him. 

   "Alright! Let's roll!" Dean's grin widened, and your nerves started to diminish as his excitement and joy filled the room and followed him out to the car. 

     Dean pulled up in front of a bar a little outside of town, he threw you a cheeky grin before hopping out of Baby and walking around the bonnet to open your door. 

   "C'mon, let's go have some fun." He smiled down at you, hand outstretched waiting to embrace your own. You mustered up whatever courage you could find and placed your small hand in his large one.

   You were unsurprised to find the placed chock full of Alpha's and your anxiety rose quickly with the quiet thud of the door closing shut. Dean's grip on your hand tightened, and you breathed in the calming pheromones that your Alpha was immersing you in.  

   "Don't worry, everyone knows everyone here. No one will hurt you, I promise." Dean reassured you, meeting you worried gaze. As if to prove he was lying, he began naming the people who were scattered around the bar. "See that's Dave over there, has a mate at home. That's Ben, great guy. Terrible at pool." He smirked at that last part, and you couldn't help but laugh when a stocky guy sitting at the bar called out "I heard that!"

   Dean laughed, sending the man a wink, "You were supposed to." 

   You found yourself relaxing into Dean's side, feeling much more comfortable in your environment than before. You knew deep down that your Alpha would never put you in harm's way and the light and humourous atmosphere reinforced that. 

   Dean's hand cupping your cheek pulled you out of your thoughts, and you met his joyful eyes looking down at you. "You up for a game of pool?" 

   Your cheeks flushed red at the thought of playing pool against Dean. You were well aware that he and Sam were decent players, Dean had told you a few stories that left you in awe of his skills. The only thing was that you had never played a game of pool in your life. 

   "I don't know how to play." 

   Dean's eyes lit up in a way that made you think he had won the lottery, and a broad smile spread across his face. "Well, I guess I'll just have to teach you." 

   You were dragged over to a free table, and you stood watching as Dean began to expertly set up the table. He grabbed two pool cues, one much smaller than the other and came to a stop in front of you. 

   "So, do you know any basic rules?" 

    You wracked your brain for any information you had on 8-ball pool. 

    "Just that you have to use the white ball to hit the other balls and that one person has solids, and the other has stripes, but that's about it."  

   Dean gave you an encouraging smile, noticing your unease. "That's a good start. Alright, well as you know, I am the pool champion. But I'll go easy on you this first game." 

   "You're getting a bit cocky, I mean who knows. Maybe I'll be a natural?"  The words flowed with ease, and the confidence in your voice surprised you. You didn't get much time to ponder your new-found confidence though, because your words seem to trigger a primal instinct in Dean and your eyes are glued to him as he makes his way towards you. You could see the lust flickering in his eyes and the smirk growing on his face. 

   Dean bent down to your height, his lips grazing against your own before moving towards your ear. "Are you willing to bet on it, sweetheart?" 

   You lurched back to look him straight in the eye, contemplating his question. 

   You knew the odds of actually winning a game of pool were lower than being eaten by a shark in the next three minutes, but the confidence from before had left you in a pickle, and there was no way you could back out now, your pride wouldn't let you. 

   "What are the stakes?" 

    Dean's eyes widened in shock before a full-blown smile broke out on his face. You could see the pride and pure joy he felt as if it was written on his forehead for all to read. 

   "I win we spend the rest of the night in bed." His eyes were full of mischief, and he wiggled his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

   Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and your thoughts were filled with all the things you wanted to do with him. Your cheeks warmed at the images of Dean that filled your mind. 

   The sound of Dean clearing his throat almost sent you running out the door with embarrassment, no doubt he was able to sense the desire you were feeling for him. You lifted your head to face him, and his cocky smirk was enough to break you out of your trance, the need to slap the look off of his and teach him a lesson was real. 

   "I can see you have no rejections. What would you like if you win, milady?" 

   "New clothes." You muttered, glancing down at the only decent clothes you had. It's not as if you were desperate for name-brand items so that you could show off how spoilt you were. But you had never had nice clothes, and for once you were in a position to get some. You had blown your last chance by making the biggest mistake of your life. You weren't going to do that again. 

   Dean's eyes flashed briefly with an emotion you could only describe as sadness, and you cursed yourself for bringing up such a touchy subject. 

   "You're right, and some shoes too. I think those might be a size too big." He replied, his voice light and carefree as he gestured down at your feet. 

   "Well, let's get this party started." Dean passed me the smaller pool cue and led me toward the end of the table, letting me go only to take the first shot and break the triangle. One ball flew into a pocket on the opposite end of the table. "Okay, that means you're going to be aiming for the stripes, and I'm solids." He spoke straightening up. 

   You frowned at the table then up at him, "I thought you were supposed to be some sort of pool champion. Surely you could have gotten more than one in. You going easy on me?" 

   "Sweetheart, (Y/N). If I play at full strength, you won't even get a shot in. How am I supposed to teach you if you don't get a turn?" His eyebrow raised, as he leant against the pool table. Dean was oozing confidence, and you were dying to take him down a notch. 

   "Do you worst, Alpha." 

   You grin as his eyes flashed, but on the inside, your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. 

   Dean moved away from the table and came chest to chest, eyes trained on your face. "Be careful what you wish for, Omega." 

   And just like that, he turns away, his focus on the game in front of him. You watch as he hits three balls into pockets in a row before you make your move. Moving to stand behind him, you run your hand up his spine just as he moves to shoot. You smirked at the tension that was quick to form, and laughter filled the room when Dean missed his shot. 

   Dean turned around so quickly you didn't have time to register before he had you sitting on the edge of the pool table, his hands gripping your thighs. 

   "That was not very nice, you're going to have to make it up to me." His voice was deep with desire, and suddenly you weren't sure if you had succeeded in taking down his ego or just provided him with an opportunity to boost it even more.

   "What about the game?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly. 

   "I think it’s fair to say that I won." 

   Dean leant in had your lips against his before you could stop him. His hands moving from your thighs to your hips, holding you close you happily let the kiss consume you, forgetting the very public setting you were currently in. Your lips melded against his perfectly, and it was mesmerising. It was a feeling you never wanted to let go of. 

Chapter 7