#now i only hear a genuinely angry and irrational man when i listen to it.

[cultstatus]

can I be real and true I listened to Burn off the new Ty/Kanye album and cried a little bit because it sounded so much like old Kanye. I can't really bear to listen to the rest of the album but that being the one song I randomly clicked on when I was scrolling through the tracklist was. wow.

[blockgamepirate]

You know what, I’m gonna talk about the Red Festival AGAIN

And yes I’m going in full Techno apologist mode here, just skip this post if you don’t wanna hear it.

I just wanna point out that nobody seems to be recognising that the Red Festival as a traumatic event for Techno? I know, it was more traumatic to Tubbo and it was also really traumatic to Tommy, and probably also Wilbur. But are we seriously just gonna ignore Techno?

Yeah, he didn’t act like a traumatised person is “supposed” to act, he laughed and joked and brushed it off. But he was genuinely terrified on that podium, and he obviously felt powerless and alone and under an immense amount of pressure. And yeah he starts laughing when he notices that Sclatt and Quackity died too, but like... that’s such an understandable reaction, actually? (I mean it was also more of an irl reaction than a roleplay reaction but even within the roleplay it makes sense that he would just start laughing manically, because the situation is absurd, because the pressure is suddenly gone and because he’s realising that he has one of the most powerful weapons on the server in his hands.) So he takes the opportunity to shoot at the crowd and escape.

And he’s not dealing with what happened, he probably doesn’t even think much about it because he’s a warrior and he’s focusing on the task at hand and on getting back to his allies.

But then he gets to Pogtopia and is greeted with anger, fear and paranoia. And he has to deal with seeing Tubbo shaking and in shock. He reacts by getting defensive because he doesn’t want to deal with any of it. Not a good reaction to have, but it’s absolutely an understandable one, because now he’s being threatened with getting kicked out and losing his comrades. Wilbur is acting bizarre and egging Tommy against him while also claiming that he forgives him, but also implying that he thinks Techno is a traitor. Tommy is just angry. Niki is terrified. Tubbo is still in shock.

Finally Tubbo does forgive him, being the one reasonable person in the room (well, the ravine), which gives him some relief, but then Wilbur still pushes him and Tommy into dueling, and Techno thinks that maybe if he lets Tommy let out his anger, he’ll feel better and they can resolve the issue (he actually says as much on his next stream), since Tubbo already forgave him and Wilbur doesn’t seem to care. But of course that’s not how it goes, the pit doesn’t make anything better at all. And so Techno says the famous line.

And I feel like people ignore the context in which that line as said. And that maybe, JUST MAYBE, Techno wasn’t actually feeling his best at the time? And was maybe feeling angry, hurt and defensive and unwilling to deal with his own emotions?

I don’t think he was aware of that himself, I get the sense that he himself probably thought he was keeping a cool head while Tommy was being irrational and emotional. But he really just went full edgelord there and I don’t think it was because he was rationally voicing his beliefs.

He wasn’t the one who suggested the pit duel in the first place, he had been trying to explain himself with words and he wasn’t being heard.

And I don’t think this was intentional, but his next stream is him retreating into the nether to mine gold for golden apples for the entire stream, it’s the one where he says “There’s nothing good in the overworld. Only pain, misery and governments are in the overworld.“ Which I know is a joke, don’t get me wrong. But man does it hit hard all the same. He also talks about maybe having to fight the goverment alone in the end.

And the thing is, I kinda feel like maybe he didn’t even realise how hurt he felt about that whole thing until the Doomsday, literally right in the middle of the argument with Tommy. Even when Tommy brought it up, he kept trying to brush it off, didn’t seem to want to engage with it. But Tommy kept pushing the issue and accusing Techno. And that’s when Techno snaps and suddenly the feelings of betrayal come out, the fact that Wilbur and Tommy just watched in the sidelines as he was struggling to think of what to do. That they left him alone, surrounded by enemies, just like Tommy did again in the ruins of the Community House the day before.

Look, I’m not even blaming Tommy for the Red Festival thing, he was listening to Wilbur as Wilbur told him to stand back. And he was upset and emotional and not thinking straight when he attacked Techno. I don’t blame Tommy for that, even though he absolutely jumped into the wrong conclusions. I do blame Wilbur a bit more, although I think Wilbur was probably just assuming that Techno could handle himself and didn’t need help. And yeah yeah, he was already having a mental breakdown and everything, but he really did make the entire situation so much worse than it needed to be, and outright encouraged the discord between Tommy and Tubbo and Techno. (He also didn’t tell Techno about the TNT ahead of time which is pretty bad honestly.)

(With the Community House scene... it’s complicated because of all the conflicting needs and emotions, but Tommy really did just completely ditch Techno there.)

[sassooda]

Worlds Away / Chapter 40 - One in the Same 🔞

w/c - 6,476

               “Love…”.

As Satoru positions himself back on the bed with a heavy heart, he wonders how long he’ll be without her voice. Elska lies there unconscious, in her own queen-sized bed a few feet away from Naoya who is also in the same condition but in a separate bed. The room Satoru mentioned to everyone before has become their new quarters but with his own personal flare. The five walls are a deep blue-grey, the trim a dark red, all decorative furnishings either that same red or a bright light blue. The sheets both of the sleepers are wrapped in resemble the color of love. This was all designed and put together as a surprise but things haven’t exactly gone as planned.

               As he situates himself next to her, Gojo finds that he desires the comfort of her heartbeat. Laying his head on her chest, he relives the horrors of when he and Choso arrived to find them. He’s weighted with guilt, having become too distracted by his mother to focus that day. ‘What did they have to go through?’, he can only imagine having seen the scene himself. Although he wasn’t particularly bothered by the gore, Choso’s reaction said it all as normal people would easily have been mortified. Gojo’s heart also sinks from the sin of dealing with the woman who gave birth to him, even if she was monstrous herself.

               “My love…”, his voice is broken from emotion as he whispers to her caringly, “Please come back to me.”. He’s been informed by Nanami and the others that Toji once found her in this same state, taking 6 days to wake up previously. This information doesn’t comfort him however after perceiving the devastation her, Naoya and Toji must have experienced. ‘…and we still haven’t found him yet.’. Satoru knows for a fact that if she wasn’t mentally compromised from the attack, not having Toji will certainly destroy her.

               He positions her arms to lay over him, as if she’s wrapping them around his own. Gojo is still reeling from his own experiences that day on top of everything else. The heartache that dwells within him after killing his mother plagues him as if she still existed, only differently. “Love, I didn’t know it would hurt.”. A tear spills from each of his darkened eyes, remembering the vexation that woman caused him for his entire life. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between them but a piece of him died with her and he can’t explain why. In this moment, he only needs to be held by his love. As he listens to the rhythm in which her heart pumps, he feels like he’s brought to a point of necessary, although temporary ease. Bringing her even closer lowers him deeper into security, feeling safe and nurtured by her touch alone. Her and Naoya have only been out for roughly 18 hours at this point, leaving him to also dread how much time he’ll be without her.

               **KNOCK, KNOCK**

               Without moving at all, Satoru calls for them to enter and sighs as he feels close to losing his composure. He decides to not hide his despair for lack of current ability.

               Choso quietly strolls in and takes in Satoru’s depression. He’s apprehensive about how unstable Gojo’s been since coming back to the academy but appreciates how much the man is going through. A slight grin appears across Choso’s face though as he looks over Gojo’s clothes, they’re both wearing their group-matching pajamas. Upon approaching Naoya, Choso pulls back the covers to further evaluate him, wanting to be sure all wounds were healed. He says to his friend, “You are one fortunate man…”, and pulls the sheets up with a smile. He then takes Naoya’s hand with relief on mind, understanding that Naoya will likely be happy at the fact that he was turned. Choso has reservations about this but they’re not strong enough for him to speak on.

               Megumi now enters and walks straight over to Elska, on the opposite side from Gojo. He’s still in a state of shock after being filled in on the aftermath. He’s in a foul disposition not knowing where Toji is and is even further upset with how messed her and Naoya looked upon being retrieved. When he reaches out to take up Elska’s hand, his is swatted away, causing him to lower deeper into his anger.

               “Leave her alone.”, Gojo growls from Elska’s chest. He immediately feels bad for snapping at Megumi but that was the only warning he was capable of. The hurt displayed on his former student’s face that he catches out of the corner of his eyes prompts him to sit up a little. “I’m sorry Megs, I just… she’s mine.”.

               Megumi is feeling disheartened by his current fears on his father’s whereabouts and feels almost completely alone as he drowns in his thoughts. The territorial stance made on Elska causes him to snap, “She is her own person, you’re fucking delusional!”. As his breath catches in his throat, he waits for Satoru to respond maliciously but becomes confused when he doesn’t. ‘I just want to make sure she’s ok…’.

               Choso walks over to Megumi and speaks with purpose, “Please let Gojo have time with her, he’s been through a lot…”, and nods as if to reiterate there still are things Megumi is unaware of. Choso sees the discontent on Megumi’s face and can feel the boy’s presence fluctuating so he continues, “And we will find Toji, I promise you. He loves you, you know…”. He watches Megumi’s eyes become glossy as he tries to fend off the tears so Choso hugs him. “I’m sure he’s ok, we just have to get to him…”.

               Megumi usually wouldn’t accept the embrace but he feels so incredibly small and useless. He finds Choso’s need to comfort him endearing and wishes he’d been kinder to the being in the past, knowing now how well he means. “I…I miss my dad…”, he meant for it to be a statement but the clarification is muddled by the sorrow in his voice and it only strengthens as Choso continues to try and soothe him.

               “Just come back later Megs…I know you’re worried too…”, Satoru doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is genuine. “I just need to be with her right now…”. He now curls back up into Elska and sighs deeply. “She would be angry if I kept everyone from her…”, and Satoru knows this is a fact but is still not budging on the current meeting.

               Megumi wasn’t expecting Gojo to offer time up so he doesn’t know how to respond. With a fake scoff he replies, “I will then.”, and heads towards the door. Before leaving he stops and turns around to face them once more, “Shoko is awake now and she wants to see you Gojo.”, then shuts it behind him.

               Satoru is aware that they have a prisoner underneath the school and Shoko likely has important information to give to him, he just hasn’t the motivation to move. He buries his face into Elska further, wanting to escape his current duties and pretend they’re just napping together. “Please come back.”.

               After a few seconds, Choso exhales, “I’m glad Shoko’s alright.”. After being teleported to Elska’s location, he had to carry her back through his portal while Gojo grabbed Naoya. Choso immediately began to heal Naoya after they returned to the academy but they were soon met with Nanami who requested him to see to Shoko’s head injuries as well. Choso recalls that while he was navigating through his shadow realm that Elska’s energy once again lingered behind them and even seemed to stain some of the surroundings. He’s always been curious as to why hers behaves differently than everyone else. While lost in his thoughts, he’s jolted back to the present as Gojo begins to cry next to Elska.

               “Gojo…”, Choso was caught off guard but feels he needs to allow privacy as he doesn’t know what to do. The terrifying Silver Shaman condenses before him, leaving a new wave of misery within his very being. Choso’s still shaken up by the events that took place with everyone and has yet to properly deal with the emotions flowing through him. He glances over to Naoya for a second and then internally declares he will return later. He hears Gojo plead for him to wait so he turns around and utilizes patience as Satoru collects himself.

               “We…We have to find Toji.”, Satoru finds himself worried with the possibilities that could be his friend’s fate. Choso nods so he says, “Please, please search for him.”. Gojo looks down at Elska who has yet to show signs of waking, “For both of their sakes, we need to get him back.”. Now darting cold eyes to back to Choso, “I will kill whoever I need to. I will fucking explode every last one of them. This is what they deserve.”. Satoru’s eyes narrow as he thinks of who this Genghis is and how that man is likely responsible for organizing the horrific event. ‘He at least helped Getou…’.

               Choso felt a chill crawl down his spine while listening to Gojo. ‘He very well means it.’, crosses his mind but he’s actually reinforced by the statement because he has his own revenge that occupies the same goal. He straightens himself while looking at Satoru, “We will find them and we will end them.”. Choso now brings his gaze to Elska for the first time and finds his dark thoughts fading, beginning to feel consumed by irrational emotions that stem from her condition as well. He has this completely visceral knot that tells him to remain near her but he can’t justify why so he thinks its best not go far at least. “I’m going to try some mapping but I’ll be nearby if needed…”, Choso now reluctantly opens the door and leaves.

               Snuggling back into Elska, Satoru closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “Everything’s so fucked up, love.”, he regretfully informs her as she sleeps. Wanting to be even closer to her, he now takes her right leg and hoists it over himself. He pulls down the front of her slip but only so he can her skin against his cheek. “They will pay for this…”, he seethes as he thinks about the new trauma her and Naoya had to live through at the hands of the Titers. “Genghis and Getou…”, his partnered enemies. He opens his eyes to slight movement. “Love?”. Slowly she begins to stir more, moving her legs and arms to in an attempt to regain awareness. Satoru hurriedly sits up and looks down to her with endearing hope.

               Elska is coming to already and smiles sweetly once she opens her eyes to see Satoru. “My sweet Sati…”, she raises her arm to hold his cheek, only now detecting his anxieties. This realization triggers her though as the ominous memories play back in her mind. She instantly screams at the top of her lungs and is sent into a hysterical state once again. She doesn’t know that she’s flailing around during this until she feels Satoru anchor his body around her to prevent her from harming herself. She struggles against him though as she continues to wail. “THE CHILDREN!”, rips through the room and Satoru understands kids must have been present in the attack.

               Satoru whimpers regrettably and holds her while her heart breaks. As her cries echo the otherwise silent room, he feels his heart responding, “My love, I’m so sorry…”. He rests his chin above her head as she begins to settle, although her sobs are still incredibly fierce. Her breath can be felt against his chest and neck as she heaves air in this dismantled state. He squeezes her tighter and reminds her, “I’m here love, I’m here. You’re safe now…”. He begins to tear up too as her voice goes silent and strains to make a high-pitched, fading squeak, the fact that she’s as broken as he assumed absolutely wrecking his confidence on the matter but he repeats, “You’re safe now.”, and kisses the top of her head. Satoru notices how strong her presence is and thinks that the whole campus should be aware of her waking.

               Choso heard and felt her so he runs back into the room. “ELSKA!”, he continues his pace to the side of the bed where Megumi was and sits down. The sounds that leave her compel him to place a hand on her side as she’s still overlapped by Gojo. She seems to respond to him and calms down slightly but with wide and teary eyes he looks to Gojo who’s just as unnerved by the situation. He hears her say, “They made Toji…kill. They crushed…Getou…he crushed the children…”, and to these words, a tear falls from the beings face. ‘Getou has no qualms with killing innocents…’, but he keeps this information to himself while deciding he should share the tragedy of his brothers eventually.

               Elska is slowly comprehending that the horrible sights behind her eyes are of the past but is still riddled with mourning. Understanding that the men have no idea of what all happened she forces herself to compose the best she can and tries to sit up. Satoru only took a second to understand so he is soon helping her. She remembers everything from the attack, which is different than how it’s happened in the past. With weary and swollen eyes, she looks at the two before her and says, “They tried to kill Naoya…”, she glances between Satoru and Choso, “His heart actually stopped.”, the fear of her prince dying reclaims its stance. “He blocked the spear meant for me…”, she looks over and sees him there laying motionlessly and begins to panic.

               Choso can see her apprehension as her eyes drift to Naoya and says, “He’s right there Elska”, and grabs her hand as he can only imagine how awful that was, “He is stable and with new energy.”. Her eyes light up but then become watery again as she quietly speaks, “But they took Toji with t…them couldn’t protect both…”, and feels his lips quiver as she deteriorates before them again. Choso’s hand is now on her leg so he brushes the spot to provide additional security. “Knowing that helps, I will find him Elska.”.

               Satoru feels Megumi and Itadori approaching the room so he yells, “NOT RIGHT NOW!”, and becomes satisfied when they stop. Looking back to Elska he grabs her shoulders and kisses her forehead, “Love I am going to fix all of this.”. He lifts her chin to him and with complete determination radiating from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. I will show no mercy.”, and she seems to be consoled by the darkness exuding him. He kisses her cheek and whispers, “We will paint the city with their blood.”.

               Elska feels like his dark nature is nurturing her very soul. In a strange wave of reassurance, the calamity within her lessens so she finally begins to settle into him. While closing her eyes and taking a deep but jagged breath however, the familiar voice ricochets through her.

               ‘FEED FROM THE HYBRID’

               Her eyes jolt open and she slowly turns her head towards Choso who’s still sympathetically rubbing her leg. She questions if she should but understands there is a reason she’s being prompted to do so.

               ‘YOU WILL SOON BE WHOLE’

               With a mousey voice, “Sati?”, she feels through his chest, his “Yes my love?”, and pulls away from him, “I need to feed from Choso.”.

               “I don’t think that’s a good idea love, why would you say that?”, Satoru is afraid that she will repeat history and is adamant about making things better not worse. He looks over to Choso who shares his reluctance and eyes him in a way to warn that it isn’t going to happen. “Love what if you lose control?”, he doesn’t understand what she could be thinking but fears it doesn’t matter as her eyes begin to glow. “Love…”.

               Elska adjusts herself to her knees and holds her own body, “I think the other me is me.”. When she looks up to them both she can tell they’re confused by that but she proceeds, “I have to do it.”. She launches herself over top Choso and pins his arms down, “Choso I’m so sorry!”. She sees that Satoru has warped to that side of the bed in an attempt to reach her so she growls. He seems to be hurt by this so she adds, “JUST TRUST ME!”, and feels less anxious as he slowly pulls his hands away from her.

            ��  Choso’s in shock beneath her, not being sure as to why this is happening or if he should fight her or not. He darts his scared eyes to Gojo fearing that this won’t go over well but is confused as the Silver Shaman seems to retract. He now looks at Elska and can tell she’s not liking how she placed him in this position and suddenly feels at ease. ‘Was this why I wanted to stay?’. He nods to her and lays back down into the bed as her fangs pierce him shortly afterwards. Choso instantly moans and latches onto her, feeling one of his bent legs touching the floor kick out reflexively. She whimpers near his ear and it causes him to melt in place while she pulls from him. After a few seconds her left hand laces into his hair and grips the strands to pull his head more to the side, him closing his eyes and complying. She soon is grinding against him, exuding pleasurable noises which would have been his main focus if her presence wasn’t darkening so rapidly.

               Gojo is cautiously monitoring the situation and feels he should stop it when her gestures turn sexual. Hearing her moan seductively into Choso leaves a bad taste in his mouth but remembers he chose to trust her. He knows this is the other Elska now but her words haunt him, “I think the other me is me.”, bringing him into a new state of contradiction as he thinks about how he’ll handle this if shit hits the fan. As he watches her free hand sail from Choso’s chest to underneath her he can’t help himself, “LOVE!”.

               Elska grabs Choso’s member and squeezes it. She hears him quietly yelp and hums to his growing as she begins to fondle him further but eventually stops and closes the being’s puncture marks. ‘FOCUS’.  Sitting herself over him she inhales deeply before looking down, “It’s incredible, how arousing your blood is…”, and manically looks down to his flushed expression, “…but it makes sense.”. She can tell Satoru reaching out behind her so she quickly grabs his wrist and flings him overhead and onto the bed next to Choso. She relishes in the shaman’s surprise to her strength and chooses to say in the lowly voice, “My favorite human…”, and grinds on Choso again instinctively, meaning the gesticulation for Satoru. Before either of them can say anything she continues, “She is right, we are one in the same…”. Still feeling overcome with desire she takes Satoru’s left hand and forces it upon her breast and whimpers when he grabs it. ‘FOCUS’, cascading through her mind. “They took my beloved but I believe they were meaning for me. I became too confident and played with the Titers, I was having fun.”. She feels the anger race across her expression as the failure surges within her again. “When the mind was repressed, we split into two in order to salvage as much as possible.”, she looks to Satoru with devious eyes, “We would’ve slowly gone mad otherwise.”. Neither of them are speaking, giving her the floor so she turns her glowing gaze to Choso, “You and I are almost exact in product, we were just born differently…I am half curse as well.”.

               Choso’s eyes widen to this immensely as many pieces fall into place. Her energy that lingers, her ability to sense the darkness within him, the fact that his blood fuels her. He breaks his gaze with Elska to turn to Satoru who seems to be thinking but isn’t overly sharing his true feelings on the matter. Her presence increases rapidly again so he quickly looks back to her and becomes afraid as she licks her lips at him. She says, “If Sati wasn’t here, I’d take you right now…”, and he feels her hand caress the side of his face but holds his breath not knowing what that exactly meant. ‘Does she mean…’, and looks down at his lap as she sinks her weight into him. He cries out, “Elska NO!”, but feels himself being pinned by her again.

               “Elska…”, Satoru is not sure as to what is going on but knows he should tread lightly with his disgust of her harboring secret desires for Choso. She looks to him expressionlessly but the attention was enough, “…Love, I’m sorry for doing this to you.”, he feels the shame in his heart and almost as if she could read his mind she says, “This was a war waged far before you were born sweet Sati. My ancestors and those of the Zenin and Titer clans started this centuries ago. A tragic love story…”. While still remaining her eyes on Satoru, “A Zenin once loved a woman from the Oda clan but their union was rejected for her clan’s lack of status. Oda’s were not inherently shaman and suffered in servitude to the major clans for this and many other reasons. An intelligent and unusually empathetic curse heard their plight and decided to offer them a deal. The Oda’s would evolve, allowing them capabilities of harnessing cursed energy. The heartbroken woman accepted without understanding what would be waged allowing the curse to manifest itself into fragments to take form in every Oda. The Titers, who were then one of the major clans, saw this as a threat and manipulated the time continuum to relocate the Oda’s to a place where they would not have to fear their dark powers.” She exhales, “The curse’s stipulations were for the Oda’s to end humanity by turning them into similar but lesser beings which would eventually allow the curse to take physical form once again.”. Gojo is left in awe by this explanation. ‘A Zenin?’, and turns his head to Naoya and contemplates on the unexplainable connection Elska and Naoya have always had. He realizes something and tells her, “The Zenin’s want you apart of their clan this time…”, his eyes unfasten completely, “…The Titers do too now.”, he thinks of his mother’s words that confirmed they want to breed with her.

“Yes but they foolishly misunderstand their place. The Titers never have and never will be able to control me. Their thoughts otherwise on this are contrived.”. Elska now thinks of Suguru. “I drank from Getou and learned a great deal, he’s merely their powerful puppet. I believe I placed enough doubt in his mind though, if he’s worth anything he will realize his own will.”. Choso and Gojo both wear expressions of mortification that she ignores, “If he ends up agreeing with his clan then I’ll be forced to act however.”, She grins frenziedly, “They do not properly comprehend that their fate rests on my whims.” Her eerie smile fades, “What they’ve done however, I will require lives to pay for it.”. She looks over to Naoya and winces to the reminder that he suffered greatly, “My prince will soon awaken. His DNA synthesis rapidly took course and it was unlike anything we’ve ever seen…”. Merely gazing upon her blonde lover quells her strength, “He has an adverse effect on my existence, he drains me of my ability to stay in this form…”, she looks back to Choso, “…which is why I need to become whole. You can make this possible.”.

Gojo is trying to make sense of this new information and is categorizing his brain for this purpose. When her eyes meet his own again she grins and says, “I will have you too when the time is right. You’re a variable in all of this, the Gojo’s have never had a turned amongst their ranks and with your innate power, I am hesitant to expose you to this needlessly. In theory I will be your master but your soul particularly is already so darkened that I am forced to question what your nature will be.”. Satoru has never discussed becoming like her but a small part of his heart is mended knowing that he’s not left out of her collection. “Love, I would be willing if you saw fit.”, he removes his hand from her breast and brings it to her face. She seems to like being addressed this way which cements the fact for him that they really both are Elska. ‘She refers to me as Sati too.’.

               Elska abruptly dips back down into Choso’s neck and bites him again. His cursed blood reanimates through her veins and feels herself growing even stronger. The thought of wiping out the Titers and rescuing her beloved mix with the sensations the being gives her causing her to moan deeply. She feels him growing more underneath her again and smiles into him and wishes that she didn’t need his permission to turn him.

               ‘HE IS NOT READY YET’

               Despite her current ecstasy, she yanks her head up and huffs with annoyance before closing the wounds. “Sometimes I grow fucking tired of your voice.”.

               ‘Who is she talking to?’, Choso feels his brow furrow as he recalls the other times she seemed to speak to no one. He’s reading that she’s now agitated and wonders if he shouldn’t make a break for it soon. He thinks about Naoya and Toji, how they would be losing their shit if they were witnessing this and doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Gojo’s wrath either.

               “You need not run…”, Elska sighs to the obvious hesitation from Choso and maneuvers herself off of him and stands. “I will not turn either of you right now for our efforts should be placed into retrieving my beloved.”. Gojo warps behind her and spins her around and she feels his arms embrace her. With confusion she asks, “Do you not fear me, Sati?”.

               Satoru chuckles into her hair, “Oh I fear you…I just love you as well.”, and is surprised when this dark Elska relaxes into him. ‘She loves monsters because she is one too…’. He knows this thought would likely terrify anyone else but he feels a new bond has been created between them in this moment and reminds her, “I know you feared me but you also never let me go.”. He inhales her scent begins to sway them, “You’re my love.”. He wonders as well who she meant that random statement to but doesn’t feel the need to press her for more information as he’s still working through what was just laid out.

               Being so close to Satoru, feeling his body heat and breath brings Elska back to her arousal she’s been fighting for the sake of communication. She bites his chest through his shirt and rakes her nails down his back as he whimpers. She can taste his own excitement and decides that enough was said.

               Gojo feels himself being pushed onto the bed and watches Choso jump up to standing. Elska straddles him and tears her slip open before glaring down and demanding, “Remove your shirt.”. He hastily does as he’s told while admiring how frightening her mannerisms are. When she leans down to kiss him, she lifts her weight from his lap and growls, “Your clothing is still in the way.”, to which he shimmies the waistband to his thighs, allowing his hardened flesh to make contact with her bare skin. He quickly finds Choso who is standing a few feet away with his jaw slacked open, “Cho-…”, she covers his lips and aligns herself with Satoru’s erection and says, “Do not concern yourself with him whilst I fuck you.”. He then feels her wet warmth slide down his shaft and groans loudly into her palm as she felt amazing. She pins his arms over his head against the mattress and proceeds to thrust herself into him passionately. When she gasps to using him, he feels a long-forgotten desire to tame her. Suddenly Gojo experiences his own switch as she continues to bounce herself on him. He breaks an arm free and sends his hand to her throat, squeezing it as he pulls her face down to his. When she bites her lip with arrogant eyes, he understands that she’s hoping he’ll fight back for dominance and whispers into her lips, “I will have you begging me to stop.”.

               Elska grins to the confirmation but all of the sudden finds Satoru is no longer below her. “Try your best, you will not break me.”, she teases in her lowly voice as she recognizes his presence behind her. She hears Gojo say, “Choso, find me something to tie her up with.”. She looks to Choso who seems to not understand why so she smiles, “Do as he says.”. Satoru now wraps a hand around her throat again and pulls her back to where she’s on her knees and feels his erection rubbing against her. She tries to angle herself so she could feel him again but fails. She huffs disapprovingly but is soon met with his grith spreading her, leaving her crying out in lust. He leans down by her ear while he seats himself completely, “Love, is that what you wanted?”, and snickers as he rams her a few times.

               Choso is finding the request made of him to be completely outlandish. ‘She shouldn’t be tied up!’, he now hears Satoru thrusting into her and feels uncomfortable with witnessing it in person. What he cannot ignore though is his own throbbing while he scurries to find anything that can be used for restraints. While searching through the drawers he comes across a scarf and quickly throws it over to Gojo without looking at them. His eyes take to Naoya in the other bed and he frowns to the situation at hand but knows there’s nothing he can really do to stop Elska. It was clear to him that she initiated and wanted to further down this adventure with Satoru. He looks over to them finally and looses his breath as he’s met with her alluring eyes. ‘Does she want me to stay?’, he questions internally hoping he was wrong. “Elska?”, he asks in a small voice, becoming mesmerized with how she’s staring into him.

               Gojo pushes Elska down into the bed and brings her arms to fold neatly behind her back. “Like old times…”, he teases wantonly as he secures the scarf around her forearms and wrists. He nudges her body forward so he can sit on his knees behind her and admires her body as he postures himself over her legs. With his left hand he grabs himself up to rub into her folds, moaning to the visible evidence that he’s going to be able to go wild. He notices Choso run out of the room and chuckles while gliding into her fully, “I guess he didn’t want to watch. Smart move.”, and begins pound into her relentlessly as she moans into the sheets. He grabs her throat again with his right hand to pull her back towards him and says, “That’s right love, you will take this dick and you will fucking like it.”, and slaps her ass with his left. “I am going to conquer you all over again…”, he hisses as he pulls on her waist to make sure there’s not a single inch of him missing out. She cries out, “YES!”, which causes him to tighten his grasp on her throat from the rush it sent through him while he delivers deep thrusts. He whimpers to how she feels contracting around him and takes notice to her body’s response as he continues through her orgasm. “Already, huh?”, the accomplishment fills him with pride and he expresses it by still crashing into her as she falls apart.  After a harsh few minutes, he slows down in an attempt to caress her internally. “Mmmm…”, he hums to how slippery her walls have become as she pants in front of him. “Perhaps my love wants to be controlled?”, he slaps her rear again with his left hand before regaining his grip on her hip. She lowly gasps, “Please try!”, which makes him say, “I am going to destroy you…”. He decides to warp in front of her and watches her body fall into the mattress. He grabs her hair and assists her in lifting her head while tilting his chin to the side and mocking, “The scary little Elska…”, she opens her mouth so he sends himself down her throat, “…gagging on my dick.”. He works his hips into her as expected tears roll down her face. When he removes himself to allow her air, he sighs to her saliva coating her breasts, causing them to glisten every so often. To his surprise she seductively moans and challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”, which causes him to grunt as he traces her lips with his tip. He replies, “You should know me better than that.”, and proceeds to thrust into her mouth again. When she chokes on him, he throws his head back and furrows his brow while gasping, “My sexy little Elska…”.

               Feeling his grip in her hair as he harshly stretches her throat fills her with exhilaration. There are reasons as to why he is so special to her and this depravity he harbors is one of them since it mirrors a part of her nature. She looks up to him the best she can as her muscles convulse to his motions and loves the dominating way in which he treats her. ‘Nobody has ever been so brave.’, she thinks as she gags. He removes himself from her mouth again but drags his member along her face which makes her whimper with anticipation. He says, “I can’t finish until I’ve opened everything.”, and she shivers to his voice as it was chilling, knowing he’s going to take her in every way he can. He warps behind her again but is maneuvering her to lay on her left side. She tries to adjust in a way that makes her arms more comfortable but he slaps her thigh and says, “Don’t squirm now love, it’s too late for that.”.

               Satoru bends her legs up towards her chest so he could have unobstructed access. Spreading his kneeing stance, he leans over her to grab her throat again while he begins to nudge her second entrance. “You are mine to fuck and so is this ass.”, and groans down to her as he feels himself slowly making progress. He loves how her face morphs into pleasure the deeper he goes and wonders, ‘Has she liked this all along?’, but is soon taken out of thought as she gasps to being further parted. He releases her throat to lean back and stabilize himself with her hip, wanting to watch himself submerge into her. “Look at you love, taking me so well…”, she cries out heatedly and he bites his lip as he backs out to start the process over. He drops some of his own saliva down where they meet and works himself in deeper, becoming completely swallowed by her. “Such a good girl…”, he breathlessly whines as their eyes meet. “…Take it all…”, and begins to set a rhythm. As he increases his force she cries out “YES SATI”, and smiles with parted lips as she’s forced to endure him. He’s watching her skin ripple and wave out from his impact and it nearly makes him come undone having the knowledge that she’s enjoying this. He pulls out of her to take in the sight of her mess and rolls her onto her stomach. After making his way back in, he leans his body to hover over hers while he continues to pound through her.

               Elska is completely under his control but is rather thrilled by how rough he is being. Through her moans she tries to tell him that it’s coming but before she can, the pheromones release into the room. She turns her head and sees Satoru’s face next to hers as he fills his lungs and moans, his motions halting while he does. She hears him say, “You must love it when I fuck you like this…”, and picks up his pace again. While gasping she’s able to say, “I want more!”, and her eyes roll back when gives her exactly that. She can tell by his breathing that he’s nearing his end so she arches her back underneath him as if to present she was ready to be a pretty display. His thrusts after that became full and deep with each stroke until she feels him twitch and begin to settle. He opens her legs to guide her onto her back while remaining inside of her. The look on his face is breathtaking and she can sense his relief as he slowly nudges through her a few more times.

               While holding her ankles and leaning his hips into her, he brings his gaze from her face to where they’re connected and grunts to how pleasing the sight is. He leans down to kiss her feverishly as he comes to terms with his affections for Elska as a whole and says, “I love all sides of you…”, into her lips. He leans back up so he can watch his contents spill from her after he pulls out and moans when it’s even more beautiful than he imagined. Rolling her back onto her stomach he reaches down to undo her binds and finds their lips meeting as soon as she was free.

               She slides her tongue into his mouth passionately and they moan into each other again. When she breaks away she says in her lowly voice, “I don’t have much time left like this but one day I will be whole. Let’s see if you can overpower me then.”, and brushes her thumbs across his cheeks. “I will be a blend of all attributes but I can promise I’ll want more of this.”. Her eyes feel heavy now as she feels her state diminishing, “I will have to sleep again but I will return to normal when I wake. Will you…”, she hesitates, “…will you bring me to sleep next to Naoya?”. She’s taken back by his kind smile as he lifts her up into his arms. They sway as he uses his knees to bring them to the edge of the bed and they nearly fall over as he works to swing his legs out to the floor.

               They laugh together as he awkwardly finds his balance but he feels her sincerity as he walks them over to Naoya. “You can rest easy love and I’ll clean you up…”, he tells her as he lowers her down next to the sleeping Zenin. Her eyes are quickly losing their glow as she lays there and wraps her arms around Naoya’s left one, so he knows she’s going to be out here soon. “Love?”, she brings her hazy gaze to him, “We will find Toji, I swear it’s my priority.”. She smiles and thanks him before saying, “I’m glad to know he’s important to you as well Sati. Please, locate my beloved…he needs me…”. While he was forming his next words she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantaneously. “Love, I will make this world work for you…”, and leans down to kiss her once more. He stands upright again to find something to wash their wonderful experience with. After wiping her down he crawls in the bed and uses the slightest bit of space given to make his own spot, wanting to be next to her. He ponders on what she said earlier about the curse’s will to replace humanity and smiles into her neck, “I don’t much care for humans either…whatever your endgame is, we will succeed.”.

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tagging : @angelofthorr

[softrozene]

Hellooo! I hope you're okay. Can I get a scenario for Benn Beckmann, Crocodile and Smoker with a female reader who confesses her feelings, please ?

I’m doing amazing Lovely. I hope you’re doing wonderful too! <3 I am such a sucker for requests like these. They feed into my love for fluff and cuteness, so I hope you enjoy this! Because of the theme requested and the characters personalities I gave the reader more of a shy girl kind of personality!

Benn, Crocodile, Smoker x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff to the max

Words: 1818

Benn Beckmann-

Benn has a bad feeling the second he saw your cute form go up to the captain. He always gets an uneasy feeling when you talk to Shanks and yes, he is aware he is jealous, and he does not hide it very well, but this time felt different. Mostly because Shanks is giggling like a girl and your face looks beyond flustered.

Normally, he would go to your rescue but the second he sees Shanks look at him he had the urge to run away from his captain’s idiocy. He could not do so after you turn as well and give him a look that makes his heart ache. Whatever is going on he does not like it but seeing that look you gave him, makes him stay in place.

Benn is usually a quiet man and one who definitely does not wear his heart on his sleeve but the crew members who he’s been with from the start of the Red Hair Pirates can see through him. They know how smitten he is with you just as you are with him. It is almost painful that the two of you are not together and that is why while Benn is keeping an eye on you and Shanks from afar, Shanks is trying to convince you to confess to Benn.

The thought terrifies you. Your face heats up like a fire and you feel dizzy just thinking about it. Shanks is making fun of you and you want to hit him but of course, you do not dare. It is all in good faith that he is teasing you anyway.

The worry practically paints your being and Shanks gives in to give you his captain talk.

“Listen (Name), you are a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman. I can promise you that Benn will reciprocate your feelings. On the highly slim chance that he does not I will owe you a date night to lather you up with the romance you deserve,” Shanks promises.

The thought makes you want to gag immediately since you are not interested in your captain and Shanks laughs since you did not hide that. His words did reach you though and you turn around yet again to see Benn staring at you.

It is now or never.

As you walk up to Benn, he kicks himself for staring for so long. Even more, he wishes he knew what Shanks said to you to make your face so flustered.

“Benn?” Ah. The way you say his name makes him smile as he hums in response.

You go for it. “I like you. A lot. I know I may not be the most confident of women but-“

This is really happening. Benn can’t hear your words as the smile on his face grows. He glances back towards his captain who in return gives him a thumbs up. He cuts your now stuttering sentence off as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I like you too, (Name). If you are sure you want to pursue a relationship with me then by all means I accept,” Benn says.

And that was how Benn accidentally killed a crewmember, his new partner, with Shanks as a witness when your body hit the ground and you went to cloud nine.

Crocodile-

“Do you know why you are here?” Crocodile questions.

You look a bit nervous but overall, pretty composed. He is impressed since anyone else would have usually pissed their pants by now. You do not answer him and even though that agitates him he lets it pass since you are one of his most valuable assets.

“You have been distracted. It is affecting your work. Would you like to tell me why?” He asks leaning into his hand.

Despite the way he asked it with a certain gentleness to it, his hook starts to carve into the desk leaving the silent threat. Any other person would be terrified, and it looks like you are, but you are just nervous. Your heart is racing wildly as you try to distract yourself from feeling a bit too hot from the threat of his hook.

“I have a perfectly reasonable explanation,” You start.

You want to tell him, but it may mean your death sentence. This man does not tolerate distractions. The only reason why he has not murdered you on the spot for your suddenly slow work is because your loyalty is as high, maybe even higher than Mr. 1’s loyalty. That is a great feat and one Crocodile appreciates even if he has no problems getting rid of his loyal followers.

He raises an eyebrow and you decide that saying your feelings for him would be worth it even if he decides to take your life.

“I like somebody… Romantically,” You begin.

Your eyes widen however when his hook crashes into the desk leaving a big and ugly scratch. The veins on his neck are prominent and for a moment you believe that he is jealous. It is a silly little thought but one that could bring you to tears with joy. It’s impossible though. You want to cry from embarrassment now. Crocodile is just angry that your romantic feelings got in the way of your work, you convince yourself this.

In reality, the second you admitted this, Crocodile saw red. You have feelings for someone? Nobody but he deserves your kind and loyal personality. You fit him perfectly and he would protect you no matter what. So, he is angry at whoever has your mind and heart right now.

He lost his composure for a second and he regrets it upon seeing your saddened face. Slight pride is in him for being able to get that reaction out of you though because that means you know your feelings for another are unacceptable.

Crocodile decides to go straight to the point. “Tell me who he is so I can destroy him. You are aware that feelings only cause distractions.”

The words sting and hard. He can see you flinch from this and your hesitation is strong. This is a first and he astounded that you out of everyone else may withhold this information. It almost makes him scoff. Of course, he should have known better. Even among the most loyal, they may betray him.

He is ready to crush all his feelings for you at this moment when you open your mouth and freeze. He allows you the moment to say the stupid name, but his eyes widen at what you do say.

“It is you. I like you romantically.”

He can sense your need to go run and hide and honestly? With what he does next he does not blame you. He laughs. Anyone would take this the wrong way which is why he is quick to compose himself and say, “This changes everything. Especially since I return your feelings. It would only make sense that we get involved with each other officially to avoid any more distractions, doesn’t it?”

He seems to have broken you as you stare at him awe that he really feels the same way. He accepts that as an answer.

“Prepare for a date tonight. Expect nothing but the best now that I can freely call you my woman.”

Smoker-

Today felt funny to Smoker for some odd reason. Usually, he is not this dense especially when his subordinates are involved which is why he is getting heavily annoyed that they are whispering amongst themselves while sending him glances.

He can’t recall what he did to warner these glances, but he suspects it has something to do with you as soon as he sees them glance your way. You, as always, are stuck in your head. It makes him stop as he thinks about you for a moment.

You are a strong and resilient woman. At first, he did not believe this with how much of an airhead you were but then he saw you in battle and honestly? He saw you more than a subordinate. He realized how compassionate you were for others. Seeing you in a different light alone made him angry but whenever you are around, he becomes fully aware of his body’s and emotion’s reactions to you. He becomes aware of how the subordinates treat you.

Getting a bit irritated with his feelings, he looks away from you and begins to glance over the ship. Though from the corner of his eye he can see Tashigi talking to you. He huffs more at the thought of you two being closer seeing as you both are the only females on this marine ship.

He looks away and grits his teeth as the irrational thoughts in his head begin to deepen.

“Sir? Sir!” You call out making him jump.

He immediately tries to fight off the blush trying to paint his cheeks as he realizes how close you are to him. You are trying to peer into his face to see if he is okay.

“Are you okay?” You ask genuinely concerned.

Smoker forces him to cough as he nods his head. “Yes. Fine. What is it you need, (Last Name)?”

“I, uh, it really is nothing. I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and that I actually find you really attractive and I know it’s against the rules since you are my superior and all but when I look at you I see a handsome man that I can really build a future with and I haven’t felt this way about anyone else before and I just can’t help admire the way you look and behavior sometimes and-”

Many ands later, Smoker’s face has turned beet red and he can feel the need to vanish into the smoke but from sheer happiness. You, you confessed to him? Even more, you gave a whole speech with your confession and somehow you manage to look adorable as you try and retract your confession. You seemed to realize that you ended up rambling and now became a mess as you try and backtrack the conversation to the original question of if he was okay.

He finally as enough. He can’t help it, especially when he finds out that your feelings are mutual. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching your cheeks as he makes you pucker your lips and he pushes his on top with ease.

It made you shut up… Oh… It made you almost pass out. He can feel the heat off your face as your brain sizzles from malfunctioning.

“Go finish your duties (Name)… I’ll request a night off for the two of us for a proper date,” Smoker whispers as he returns to his serious face.

Even if he does get serious again, you can’t help but notice the slight pink on his cheeks still that is proof you accomplished something with your confession.

[dystovian]

The Last Of Us: How to Disappear Completely

Chapter 4: The Shifting Tides

Summary: It’s been almost a decade, and the Burrowers were good at survival, impeccable at it, even. They’ve managed to keep most, if not all of their people alive, including you and Sawyer, but things are shifting, and you need to flee.

Pairing: Joel/Reader, Joel x Reader (next chap😏)

Warning(s): Violence, Talks of Murder, Cannibalism, Trafficking, Weapons, Standard Last of Us stuff😩

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for just now writing something, it’s been way too long but i promise to be more on this series than before! please enjoy! ALSO I PROMISE JOEL COMES NEXT CHAPTER PLS!!!!:!!:

Tags: @hrk-fic-recs

2032.

Illinois.

This fenced in community, that of the Burrowers, was welcoming. It became your home in no time — the rocky roads connecting streets filled with loving and strong people, to sturdy, multi-family homes that reminded you of your past.

There was a beach, just in view of your very own window. It was small, quaint, with rocks and shells that poked at the soles of your feet. And water, that crashed on the shore at night and jolted you awake. Jolted you into panic attacks that had you crying out for the father you haven’t seen in two decades. Crying out for his touch and his voice, that you pray to feel and hear again. That you’ve forgotten.

Yet, as you sit at your kitchen table, a record playing quietly from just near the couch in your very own living room, your brows furrowed from the onslaught of thoughts and feelings about the rumors and whispers coming from the residents lately.

It started last week, when Sawyer walked into the gated community, shouting and stomping their feet. Blood covering their arms and legs, profanities and threats launched toward Alex’s righthand man. They jumped at him, fingers grasping his throat. Hell broke loose, so people pulled them apart. You hadn’t a clue what was happening. You’d heard gossip that something came out of nowhere, which almost got Sawyer killed, and inadvertently; their partner slaughtered.

Since you arrived here almost a decade ago, you and Sawyer tended to avoid each other. Rarely speaking unless absolutely necessary, during meetings, or out on runs. So finding out what made them so angry was lost to the wind. Simply a game of telephone from what others heard, or rumors being spread.

The worst one? That Alex and Amy were trying to kill their own people.

You didn’t believe it, you couldn’t. Never would you have thought they would even attempt nor be capable of it. But when another group disappeared not even three days later, and one of them showed up at the front gates infected in less than 12 hours, you grew suspicious. You needed to talk to them, try to understand that perhaps it’s all some misunderstanding. Or, that it’s just someone framing them.

The leaves crunch at your feet when you step onto the road, and they seem to get even louder the closer you get to the makeshift courtroom, the one you know Amy stays in until the early hours of the morning. And your blood is rushing in your ears when that door opens and you’re face to face with Amy, who looks up from her work only momentarily with a cold glare. She knows, and you know she does.

“Come. Sit.” She says, sweetly. Still staring down at papers filled with content you will never see. You listen, sitting in a chair only about five feet away from the desk she sits behind.

“I...I wanted to speak with you? About...things. Whatever happened with Sawyer, and their partner. And with whatever these...rumors...are about.” You wrung your fingers together, staring intently at your nails as you struggle to get your words across. She sighs the second you stop speaking, and slides her pen and papers to the side.

“Y/N, you’re a great contributor to this community, and I can assure you there isn’t anything to worry about. Sawyer was just being irrational, and jumping to conclusions. That’s all you need to know, and will know about the situation. Capisce?” She huffed out. You were silent, hesitant, yet determined for some semblance of an answer. So you stared, and waited.

“There’s no budging you, is there?” Amy stood, hands sliding into the pockets of her pants, “I can put my trust in you, is that correct?” By now, she had walked around the wood desk and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“Ye- Uhm, yes. Yes you can. You know that, Amy.” Now, the nerves were setting in, she was about to tell you what’s been going on and you don’t know how you’ll react. If it’s bad, you just know you’ll either have to fight, or run for the hills. You can only hope and pray that whatever comes next is just some miscalculation.

“Alright, then. If that’s the case, me and Alex will talk to you tomorrow night. This is something I must discuss with him first, before I go around telling it to anybody, and yes, that means you.” She pushed herself off the desk, and grins. “I’ll see you then, okay?” You nod.

Tomorrow never came.

By the time you reached your home, Sawyer was already pacing back and forth on your porch, mumbling to themselves about who knows what. And the second your eyes connect, they’re running up to you and grabbing your arm, almost dragging you into your home. They breathe deeply, and their hands are shaking as they rant and rant on what happened, and what will happen.

“I’m fuckin’ next, okay?” They keep a low voice. “They got my fucking girlfriend, and then they’re gonna get me next run. And then, you’re gonna figure it out, and they’re gonna get you too.” Your arms are out, trying to slow down the pacing and calm them, but they slap you away. You simply sigh.

“Okay, okay, okay. Just breathe, alright? I don’t know what’s going on, and I need you to explain it to m-“

“They killed Agatha, and when they did; I hid, I found a place to hide and I stayed there. Those fucking monsters, talking about how they have some weird ass deal with the ‘Burrowers’ and ‘their people’, saying that Amy and Alex better keep up with their numbers next time, or they’re gonna fuckin’ shoot the place up! They’re fucking trafficking people, Y/N! Who knows what for, probably cannibalism!” Sawyer’s hand gestures get more and more rapid with each word that leaves their mouth, and next thing you know their hands are gripping and shaking your shoulders. “We have to leave. I’m not staying, and I need to leave with you, cause if I don’t, I’ll never be able to live with myself. So please. Get your fuckin’ shit.”

You have no chance to ask any questions, or stop them from doing this. But you listen, you get the bare essentials into your biggest backpack, and wait with every backup weapon hidden in the floorboard below your bed from almost 7 years ago.

Then you leave, you don’t know how long you walked, or how far. But you reach somewhere safe, and secluded, and take a breather. You rest, and feel sad for what you left behind, but a new emotion blooms in you at Sawyer’s back touching yours in some old rickety bed, for the first time in a decade.

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

Neither Lucy nor Natsu sat through the closing arguments, but according to Gajeel the defense stood firmly on their case for insanity. Touka’s attorney argued that his client suffered from a disorder that should put her in a hospital for treatment, not a jail cell, and not only that, but the so-called victims in the case drove her to do what she did. It was a very risky move to blame the victims. Of course, the prosecution countered that not only did Touka not suffer from any condition but that this was a simple case of jealousy gone wrong. Natsu and Lucy were innocent victims of a selfish woman who tried to kill them. Period, and for that she should go to prison for the maximum sentence allowed.

The prosecutor implored to the jurors heartstrings. “You saw the effects that Ms. Shiromajyo caused to her victims. The tears shed on the stand and the genuine fear in Ms. Heartfilia’s testimony as she recounted the events in question. Ladies and gentlemen, this young woman stared death in the face and watched her boyfriend almost get killed by the defendant. They had to fight to survive! Ms. Heartfilia and Mr. Dragneel have experienced something that no one should ever go through.” He gestured at the timeline board facing them. “Ms. Shiromajyo stalked multiple people over the course of several years to reach her goal, intimidating people that really had nothing to do with her. Ms. Shiromajyo paid a person to kill Ms. Strauss, threatening and intimidating her. And most of all, ultimately took this whole situation into her own hands when all of her efforts didn’t work out. She is a danger to society. I urge you, the jury to give her victims the peace of mind that she’ll be off the streets in a cell getting the treatment that she needs, and the punishment she deserves.”

It was a nerve wracking time for the victims as they waited outside of the court room for the jury to deliberate. Lucy and Natsu stayed in a side room with the prosecutor along with their closest friends and family there to support them. The prosecutor assured them that they’d done their best and the odds were in their favor. But of course, it only took one hold out to cause a mistrial, and Lucy didn’t know if she could go through this again. She was already unhappy that even if convicted, Japan’s sentencing structures were not as stringent as other countries.

The jury deliberated for four hours before reaching a verdict pronouncing Touka guilty of all charges. Upon hearing the guilty decision, Lucy and Natsu slipped back into the court room to hear the final disposition.

“Rise Ms. Shiromajyo.” The judge then read the decision to the standing defendant. “You have been found guilty by this court of two counts of attempted murder that caused injury. One count of kidnapping for profit. And three counts of intimidation. Do you have any last statement to make to the court before I render sentencing?”

Touka hung her head as if resigned to her fate. “Yes...” Surprisingly, to all those in the courtroom, she apologized for her actions. “I see now how much pain I caused to everyone because I couldn’t control myself and I hope one day they’ll forgive me for it.”

But her words of contrition were too little, too late. The judge sentenced Touka to the maximum of the highest offense, which was 15 years with work, but instead of the work condition, imposed a special circumstance that Touka be ordered to undergo mandatory psychological treatment while in custody and to adhere to any treatments and medications prescribed for her own good.

“Ms. Shiromajyo,” the judge spoke directly to the woman. “You’ve apologized at the end, but I hope you truly feel that way. Based on all of the evidence presented in court, your actions were clearly towards a one-sided love affair with a man who wanted nothing to do with you, and for that you tried to punish an innocent woman who got in your way. I do not believe, and the jury agreed, that you do not suffer from a legal defense of mental defect, however you should spend the time in prison to get your mind right again, so that when you re-enter society in the future, you’ll no longer suffer from whatever emotional problems brought you here in the first place. You are very lucky that I cannot under the law sentence you to concurrent sentences for every single charge. Bailiff, take custody of the prisoner. This case is adjourned.”

As the final gavel bang echoed in the court room, Natsu and Lucy who’d made it in time to hear it all, broke down in tears and elation as the court room erupted in cheers around them. A rarity for the poised population. This case was certainly anything but common for Japan, especially because the perpetrator was a woman and journalists had kept the public up to date with its progress. A lot of people were affected by this case personally, but the fear of what Touka had done rang cold for onlookers too. For the public, the idea that someone you may know could harbor ill will and do something this heinous was a scary proposition.

While the case was now over, Lucy knew her own struggles with anxiety were not, despite the tiny relief she’d felt in hearing the words guilty. She’d made it through the trial by sheer determination, but the experience had set her back in her progress. Reliving all the worst events and being grilled by the defense had re-traumatized her. Not all the way regressed, but the nightmares were back anew, starting immediately after her recall testimony.

It wasn’t just the old memories that haunted Lucy, but a new, troubling thought brought out during that testimony. When the defense attorney tried to make her think she was just as bad as Touka, there was a point when she thought... was it true? And the more she pondered, the worst the correlation became despite her loved ones conviction that she was nothing like the woman. Because... why not? If Touka’s deluded mind really believed she was protecting what was hers, well isn’t that the same logic Lucy used to defend herself and Natsu? Then there was the rage she’d felt. Was the attorney, right? If Natsu hadn’t stopped her from beating the woman, would she have killed Touka? Did that mean she had a killer instinct too?

All the publicity surrounding the trial didn’t help one bit. Just trying to get out of the court room after the verdict had been a complete circus of cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in the couples faces wanting their opinions of the verdict. Oh, how Lucy wanted to scream in their faces! How do they think they’d feel?! Yes, it felt great to be vindicated, but 15 years for almost killing them? Where were their assurances that when Touka was released, she wouldn’t pick right back up where she’d left off and hunt them down?

All these irrational thoughts fueling the new regression were different from before. Lucy didn’t feel as anxious. She was a little depressed, but now she was also— angry.

When she arrived at her therapy session without Natsu, Lucy sat on the couch facing the woman with her arms crossed. The therapist was quick to note the way in which she was holding her poise because it wasn’t a comforting arm cross, but a firm one. The muscles in her forearms were tense along with the tight lipped and brows furrowed expression gracing Lucy’s face.

“Well, this is certainly new,” the woman put her notebook down as she spoke. “Something has changed, shall we talk about it?”

Lucy’s hands clenched firmly as her eyes look away slightly. “I had a small argument with Natsu this morning.”

“I get the impression it wasn’t small.”

“Okay! It was a big fight! Happy?!” Lucy’s arms unfurled and gesticulated. “I don’t even know why it got out of hand, but it did.”

“Tell me what happened and let’s figure it out together.”

“Tch,” Lucy crossed her arms again and looked away. “I woke up from a nightmare. He started comforting me like he al—ways does, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t.”

“Why’d you tell him to stop?”

“I don’t know... I was just, irritated.”

“With him?”

“Yes... No— both, I don’t fucking know! Just pissed off, okay?! I was just angry and didn’t wanna be bothered!”

“I see... and how did Natsu react?”

“He, well, um,” Lucy’s shoulders dropped a bit. “He just said okay, I’ll give you space if you want it and left the bedroom. And we haven’t spoken since then.”

“It sounds like Natsu respected your wishes to back off. But why is that making you so angry?”

The therapists question brought instant tears pooling in Lucy’s eyes. She knew why, but she didn’t know why, and holding it in was tearing her apart. But she also didn’t know how to articulate all of the random thoughts plaguing her in a way that made sense. So, at that moment she just broke. Through fitful sobs the cacophony of broken, fragmented thoughts spewed out in no logical manner. Lucy just spoke every word and sentence that came to mind as the therapist sat quietly listening.

This was her first session since the trial had ended, so all of the wounds were painfully fresh. Shouldn’t she be happy it was over? They were free for now and it was time to move forward but all she could think about were the things the attorney had said. And that made her angry with herself. Lucy’s always thought she was so much stronger, yet this experience or rather the effects left her feeling lost and broken, and weak. Even more infuriating for her, she knew these thoughts were completely irrational! It’s one thing to not understand, it’s another to know how stupid it sounded and not be able to fight back against it. Weak. That’s what it made her feel. Stupid and weak for losing herself. They may have won against Touka, but Touka had taken something away and Lucy feared she’d lost it forever.

Who she was.

The therapist moved over to the couch and hugged tightly to a sobbing Lucy, stroking her hair and cradling her head. Comforting in silence allowed the blonde to just cry, as hard as she needed to and release everything that had been held inside where it shouldn’t stay. When the tears slowed, and Lucy’s breathing had the normalized, the therapist spoke softly.

“You’re not broken, Lucy, and you’re not dumb. You’re rightfully in pain after everything you’ve experienced, and that’s okay too.”

“How is that okay?” Lucy sniffled. “It shouldn’t be okay!”

“It’s not fair what you had to endure but being upset and feeling pain because of it means you’re human. Even the anger is a good feeling right now.”

Lucy snorts an annoyed laugh at such a ridiculous sounding statement. Anger being, okay?!

“There are positives we can take from this.”

Again, Lucy huffs. “Yeah, right. That makes a lot of sense.”

The therapist pulls back and settles into a more professional pose to continue. “Your anger means you care. Think about it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get angry, right?”

“I guess...”

“In all these months, this is the first time I am seeing a deep passion coming from you. Lucy you aren’t really lost, and this anger are those feelings screaming ‘I’m still here!’ You can use that same energy to push forward.”

“But what about Natsu?” Lucy’s eyes cloud up. “I think I really made him mad a-and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Did he come with you today?”

“Yeah, he’s in the waiting room.” Lucy mumbled through a frown. “But I think he just came cause he felt obligated.”

The therapists eyes softened along with her tone. “I have a feeling that’s not the case. He might feel hurt and confused right now, but I’m sure he still loves you deeply. Maybe we should bring him in here and talk things over? That way I can help you through it.”

Lucy paused for a moment before nodding weakly. “I’d like that.”

The therapist brought Natsu into the room and as soon as he saw the puffy red eyes and Lucy’s disheveled appearance immediately stumbled over and hugged onto her with tears of his own flowing down, apologizing over and over for upsetting her that morning.

Although Lucy stiffened up at first when he’d hugged her in fear of what he might say, his words instead stunned her. All along she’d felt the fight was her fault, not his. She’d been the bitch to him and now his pain brought her tears back along with a loss of her anger. “It’s not your fault,” she hugged him back. “I was angry with myself and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“But I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“No,” Lucy exhaled, “you did the right thing. I... I needed something to wake me up.”

Natsu pulled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lucy smiled weakly. “Coming here mad, I couldn’t hide it so she made me talk about it. Now I see how that needed that to happen and I feel a lot better because of it. I was just worried you’d hate me for the way I acted.”

“I could never hate you,” Natsu smiled and cupped Lucy’s cheeks. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

By that point, the therapist had gone back to her own chair and with the session almost over for that day, addressed the couple together. “Lucy right now I think you are at a very good point in your progress. Your anxiety had gotten better, the depression is still there, but it’s not as debilitating as it was before, so now it’s time to take the next step in the healing process. You’d mentioned wanting going back to school and the next semester starts in a month. Perhaps it’s time to consider going back?”

“I-I don’t know if I could handle full time...”

“Maybe reach out to the school and see if they’ll work with you on a modified schedule?”

“I guess I could...”

“And I’ll help you,” Natsu added on as he squeezed Lucy’s hand. “They’ve been really supportive so far.”

Lucy let out a long exhale. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ve got another suggestion too,” Natsu added. “If you get angry, you could take it out with a physical sport or something.”

“That’s actually a good outlet,” the therapist agreed. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“Um...” Lucy thought about for a couple minutes. “I thought about taking self-defense classes.”

“That would be cool! Maybe we can go together?”

“I’d really, really like that.” And first time in a long time, Lucy truly meant it.

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Chapter 4

Chapter Notes: I’d like to give a shoutout to @elegiesofemptiness for throwing suggestions my way for this chapter and helping me out of a rut.

We’re really in it now, boys. Scary-oke this time around, and the next chapter following this one takes  place in my favorite episode in season two. >:)

AO3

“You have to promise me you’ll only use the journal for self-defense, and won’t go sniffing around for trouble.” 

Dipper crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, but only if you promise that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town”.

“Promise” Stan replies, placing one hand against his heart and the other crossed behind his back. Dipper squints at him for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Promise”, Dipper echoes, and his tone doesn’t sound any more genuine than his own. 

Maybe he should just hide all the black lights in the house so the kid doesn’t get any big ideas. For now, though…

“Oof, we have a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan pokes at his recliner with his foot. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?” 

As if on cue, the zombified Soos wanders into the room from the kitchen, arms outstretched and eyes glossed over. 

“Holy Moses!” Stan yelps, instinctively grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture to smash it over Soos’s head, before Dipper stops him, placing a hand on his arm. 

“Wait! It says here there’s a cure for zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde” 

“Ooh, and cinnamon!” Mabel beams, popping her head over Dipper’s shoulder. 

“C’mon, Soos, let’s fix you up” 

Mabel picks up one of the dining chairs off the floor and prods Soos in the stomach back towards the kitchen. Dipper’s about to follow her into the kitchen, but Stan places a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. 

“Not so fast, little man,” he scolds. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I saw that zombie pick you up”

“Are you...accusing me of being a zombie?” Dipper turns to face him, and Stan almost laughs that he looks more baffled than he does angry.  “Wouldn’t my head have exploded while we were singing together if that were true?”  He asks, and visibly cringes at the mental image. 

“Well, yeah. Maybe you weren’t infected as quickly as Soos, but zombies don’t always gotta bite you to infect you. It’s about direct contact.” Stan grins. “Matter of fact, most zombies only bite cause they’re hungry! If they’re just looking to infect, they’re more likely to leave a nasty scratch” he offers out his hand. “Lemme see” 

Dipper places his hand in Stan’s, and Stan tugs him a bit closer so he can get a better look at Dipper’s arm. His shoulder looks fine, which means it isn’t spreading as quickly as Stan expected it to. That’s a relief. He turns Dipper’s hand to inspect the other side of his wrist, and sure enough, there are three large gashes right on the spot where the zombie had grabbed him. It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding, but the skin surrounding the gashes are already turning a sickening grayish green.

Dipper’s face goes white as a ghost at the sight of it, and if Stan weren’t holding his wrist he’s almost sure the poor kid would pass out right then and there. Stan squeezes his hand, just to give the kid a grounding gesture to prevent him from passing out a second time. “Whoa, whoa. Deep breaths, kid. You said it yourself! There’s a cure for this. We just gotta follow your sister into the kitchen before she uses it all on Soos, okay?” 

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay” he replies, and he takes three steps forward before he stops. Stan’s afraid he’s going to pass out again, but he turns back around and points a finger at him. 

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?” 

Dipper’s rubbing at his infected wrist, and the sound it’s making is akin to someone walking through a pile of dead leaves. “How did you know that zombies can infect someone without biting someone? All Journal 3 talked about was how to cure a bite”

...Shit. That must’ve been the first journal that talked about home remedies for monster attacks.

“W-Well I’ve lived here for over thirty years, y’see? You have to learn these things pretty quickly.” Stan straightens out his posture to better sell his lie, and gestures vaguely towards Dipper. “Look at you, kiddo. You’ve had the journal for...what, two months? And I see you going around every day like you own the place” 

Dipper blushes. “I guess that makes sense”

Stan rolls his shoulders. “Of course it makes sense. I’m older and wiser, and all that” 

Dipper chuckles quietly, mumbling something under his breath about I don’t know about wiser, but Stan’s too distracted by the fact that Dipper keeps scratching at his infection to bite back. “And speaking about older and wiser, I of all people would know that all scratching at that thing is gonna do is make it worse” 

Dipper’s hand drops to his side immediately. “Right, right” he murmurs. Stan rolls his eyes, and places a hand on Dipper’s back to gently shove him towards the kitchen.

“Hup to. The last thing we need around here is a zombie with an irrational fear of himself” Stan slaps Dipper on the back and roars in laughter, who only responds with a roll of his eyes. When they step into the kitchen, Mabel and a dezombified Soos are sitting at the table chatting casually. Soos has an ice pack on his head.

“Oh, hey dood!” Soos grins. “Hey Mr. Pines! Sorry about the whole trying to eat your brains thing. I got like, way too into the character.” 

“Uh, water under the bridge” Stan waves him off before he turns his attention to Mabel. “Listen, sweetie, you got any more of the formula?” He exchanges a quick glance with Dipper, who’s hiding his arm from his sister behind his back. “I, uh, wanna toss some of it around the yard. See if it doubles as a free fertilizer for the...dead flowers” 

Mabel gasps, her eyes going wide. “Those poor zombified flower pixies!” She yelps, and gestures to a pot bubbling with oil on the stove. “Take as much as you need. I accidentally made, like, ten batches too many anyway, so if it works you could sell bottles of it in the gift shop and tell ‘em Mabel sent ya” 

Stan laughs, and takes a moment to muss up her hair. “Ah, I knew my swindling skills would rub off on one of ya! Atta girl” he grins, and she grins back in equal measure before returning to her conversation with Soos. As soon as she has her back turned to him, Stan grabs the entire pot and walks as fast as he can towards the back porch without spilling any of the oil.

“Follow me”, he whispers to Dipper once he’s sure he’s out of Mabel’s earshot, and Dipper doesn’t hesitate to trail closely behind. He places the pot of oil on the ground beside the porch couch, and pats at the armrest. Dipper wordlessly complies and takes a seat, and Stan takes one last peek through the window to make sure Mabel hadn’t followed them out to watch him “revive the pixies” or whatever it is she’d said. Once he’s sure that she’s too engrossed in her conversation with Soos to notice they were gone, he takes a knee beside Dipper.

“Alright, lemme see it again” Stan says, and Dipper spreads his arm across the armrest. The infection seems to have spread to the base of his elbow, and the skin surrounding the initial gash in his arm has withered to a faded gray color. Stan sighs, and dips both of his hands up to his wrists into the pot of oil. 

The smell of it makes Stan sick. It’s far from his first time dealing with formaldehyde, and a tiny little demon at the back of his head is screaming at him that Dipper could’ve been coming into contact with it for much, much worse reasons if he came up from the basement to help him just ten seconds later. 

No. He squashes that thought down before it can get any worse, and begins rubbing the oil into the worst of the infection on Dipper’s wrist. It makes him flinch, and Stan’s not sure if it’s because of the smell or the burning sensation.

“Y’see, this is exactly why I tried keeping you and your sister away from the supernatural.” He flicks the excess oil off of his hands, but it’s a redundant gesture because he’s right back to sticking his hands in the pot anyway. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t heard you in time? Or if I’d looked anywhere else in the Shack for you first? I would’ve been forced to assume the worst”

He’s trying to sound strict, but damn these kids for tearing him down so much that it hurts his chest to even think about it. “I can’t have the people I care about aimlessly running around and throwing themselves into danger”

“I’m not being aimless!” Dipper whines, but hisses in pain when Stan accidentally rubs some of the oil directly into the gashes in his wrist. 

“Mhm,” Stan hums. “And I’ve never spent a year in a Colombian prison”

“I’m not!” he squeaks. “Look, Grunkle Stan, I’m not just running around trying to hunt and capture every monster in the journal for fun, or anything! I’m so close to discovering the identity of the author that I have to follow leads when they present themselves! Nobody can really just...disappear out of thin air, right? He has to be around here somewhere”

Every nerve in Stan’s body freezes up at once. 

I’ve been telling myself that for thirty years, kid.

“Look, kid…” he pauses. What can he say? You’re never gonna find him cause I accidentally pushed him through an interdimensional portal? Oh, and by the way, he’s my twin brother and your other Grunkle and he would probably love you and your sister to bits if he were still here? “...I get it. I do. But you have to understand that I’d never forgive myself if anything horrible happened to you or your sister.” He waves a defensive hand in the air. “I don’t mean to say that you can never go anywhere, ‘cause even I know that tryin’a strap you down and make you sit still would be like caging a rabid animal.” He wipes the rest of the excess oil on his pant leg, and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I just can’t have ya gettin’ hurt on my watch, ya hear?” 

Stan can’t help but drift his gaze towards his wrist,

More than you already have, anyway.

“It’s not like that. Mabel and I can take care of ourselves”

“Watch it.” Stan points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re twelve. The last thing you need is a hero complex”

“What?” Dipper shakes his head. “No, Grunkle Stan, I mean, Mabel and I’ve already fought half of the monsters in the journal and won. You don’t need to worry about anything happening to us”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Kid, didn’t I just rescue you two from a hoard of zombies?”

“That’s just the thing! We’ve been chasing after monsters all summer, and this is the first time you’ve ever had to get involved!” Dipper’s beaming, and okay, someone better tell this kid to stop being a picture perfect replica of his brother before he finds out it’s his biggest weakness. “You saw Gideon’s giant robot the other day, didn’t you?” 

Stan blinks. “You mean that giant pile of metal scraps everyone was crowding around?”

“Yeah!” Dipper backtracks. “Okay, well, before that, it was a giant robot.”

“You’re losing me” Stan huffs. “What could Gideon’s broken robot have anything to do with why I should trust you running off on your own?

Dipper blinks, like he’s in disbelief that Stan hadn’t already connected the pieces together himself. “We’re the ones who broke it”

If Stan had a drink in his mouth, he’d be spit-taking all over the place right now. “You two? Wasn’t that thing twice the size of the shack?” 

“Oh, it was. As soon as the bus you put us on to go home pulled away from the bus stop, he tried chasing after us in it because he insisted that we still had something that he wanted”

Stan snorts. “Was he goin’ off about Mabel’s hand in marriage again?” 

Dipper laughs, but then he shakes his head. “No, he just kept rambling on about Journal 1 and how bringing the journals together could, I dunno, end the world or something? And he wanted to bring them together so he could hold the world hostage, or something.” He shrugs. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I know the author’s missing, but I just assumed he’d been kidnapped by some...thing that didn’t like being recorded. I didn’t think it was some kind of superweapon”  

Stan swears he can feel his blood turn cold. He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, and hopes Dipper assumes it’s because of the mid-summer heat.

“...But we didn’t have it!” Dipper throws his arms up in the air. “We tried telling him we had no idea what he was talking about, but he just kept getting angrier and calling liars. He had both of us in his...giant robot hands at some point, but then he decided there was nothing else he wanted from me and literally tossed me away”

Dipper’s hands are balling up into tiny, shaking fists. “He tried taking Mabel hostage. I wouldn’t have cared how much he insulted me, but...we’ve never been separated like that before”. He glances down at his shaky hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been the braver one between us. But next thing I know, I’m flinging myself off the train tracks” 

“Train tracks?” Stan blinks. “Y’mean the ones up on the cliff?”

Dipper nods, blushing. “I just...went for it. I probably got a ton of cuts from the broken glass when I smashed through the eye of the robot,” he muses, pausing to give his own arm a look over. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline in my life”

Stan snorts. “You’re trying to tell me you punched the robot so hard that you knocked it off the cliff?”

“What? No, Gideon was inside of it. He was wearing one of those weird...motion control suit...things. The robot only lost its balance because I punched him in the face.”

Stan roars in laughter. “You punched Gideon in the face?” 

“Yep!” Dipper beams. “Quite a few times, actually. I think with everyone treating him like he’s a god he tends to forget that Mabel and I are three years older than him.” He flexes an arm to show off his nonexistent muscle. “Remember that trick you taught me about punching someone in the face with their own fist?” 

“Hah!” Stan grins. “That worked?” 

“Knocked the robot’s head clean off!” Dipper grins back. “Or, well, it probably would’ve, if that wasn’t what pushed the robot over the edge” 

Stan’s keeling over in laughter. He can’t believe how casually Dipper’s talking about this. Just a month ago, if Dipper had told him the same story detail for detail, Stan would’ve been sure that Dipper was describing a movie he’d watched the previous night. 

“Not bad, kid!” he grabs Dipper into a gentle headlock, messing up his hair. “But what about your sister, huh? Don’t think I don’t see you trying to take all the credit” 

“Oh, not at all!” He’s beaming again. “That’s the best part. Mabel’s the one who saved us from falling to our deaths. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I think the grappling hook is the best thing she’s ever owned”

Stan nudges him with his elbow. “Yeah, last thing we need around here is both of you having giant heads”. Dipper glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder. 

Stan wipes a tear from his eye with his wrist. “Alright, kid. You convinced me. If you two can come out of fighting a giant sci-fi monster without so much as a scratch, I trust that you and your sister know what you’re doing”.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. “Really?” 

Stan nods. “Really. But you have to promise me you’ll still be careful, okay? I can go back on my word and hide that book away from you faster than you can say journal. Got it?” 

Dipper nods. “Got it.” and then, after a short pause, “I promise”. 

[amelink66world]

Love of my Life

Heyyy guys!! Checks out the new chapter! Kinda steamy ;)

Patience...or not?

It's been exactly 2 weeks since their date. They had gone on four more dates each one ending just like the first one, though the feeling of need only intensified with the next. Even the slightest touch ignited a fire inside them.

This going slow thing is too much!! I can't bear it anymore. I have to talk to her! I mean, she's killing me here. Ughh but I need to wait. This is what she wants and I can do anything for her. Sooo, suck it up, Atticus Lincoln. He groaned thinking why in the world did he agree to take things slow when he knew it would be too hard to control himself in her presence, especially when she looked sooo sexy all the time! It's like she was doing it on purpose!!! He walked towards the coffee cart, waiting for Amelia as usual. He chuckled, she's always late.

Meredith and Maggie tried their level best to mind their own business but Amelia was making it really very hard. This whole past week, she was in a pretty bad mood. You could hear her soft groans and grunts from time to time. Some head banging on the table was involved too. One time, Meredith had to cover Bailey's ear when his dearest Aunty Amelia came down the stairs cursing. Of course, she hadn't noticed the child in the living room before muttering those horrendous words not suitable for a child to hear.

Maggie probed and prodded her occasionally but she just wouldn't budge. Meredith finally snapped. "WHAT?!" They were carpooling to the hospital, as usual. Amelia looked up from her usual seat at the back, astonished. She was continuously sighing which annoyed the crap out of Meredith. Amelia asked, " What? What did I do? "

" Obviously something's bothering you, Amelia. We can't see you like this anymore. What is it? Just spit it out now! ," Meredith said indignantly.

" It's nothing," she muttered.

Maggie sighed. Curiosity was turning into exasperation. " You know, you can talk to us, right? We're here for you," she smiled. Amelia returned her smile and told her genuinely, " I'm just not ready to tell y'all about it. I'll tell you two at the right time. Don't worry about me." Meredith seemed convinced with her answer too and nodded before continuing driving.

SHIT! I'm late again. Link must be waiting for me. Ugghh, she groans way too loudly. Amelia rushed to the attendings' lounge and quickly changed into her scrubs. She hurried towards the coffee cart and could not spot Link anywhere. He didn't wait for me?! Oh yeah right,who am I kidding? I'm 20 minutes late! He can't wait for me forever. He has patients to see, Amelia thought sadly. Dejectedly she stood in line which was moving way too slow adding to her frustration.

What she didn't know was that Link had noticed her almost dashing towards the coffee cart and wanted to tease her a little bit. He just moved a few steps back and his behind a tree until she got in the line. This was his favourite pastime now, to rile Amelia up so much that she would be forced to break that "going slow" deal and crack under the pressure. He would always pull away just in the nick of time before things got too far, making her mad. He just loved it when she got mad. Her cheeks flushed deep red and her eyes burned with such fire and desire when she got angry that he had a hard time keeping himself in check. Obviously what he was trying to do had consequences too. He always had to adjust his clothing to get rid of the sudden tightness he felt after such nuances.

Amelia suddenly felt the oh so familiar fingers sliding up her arm and her back being pressed to a sturdy chest. " You like to make me wait, don't you?", he breathed in her ear. The obvious innuendo was not lost on her. She shivered. Okay. That's enough! Do I really need to hold on for soooo long?! I'll jump him RIGHT NOW! Uggghhh...but he turned it into a competition now. No backing out now, Amelia Shepherd.

Link very well knew what effect he had on her. He wanted her to know the ridiculousness of the deal. Deciding to play dirty, he started peppering her exposed neck with feather light kisses driving her mad. They were in the middle of the park, for crying out loud!! Amelia clutched his arms wrapped around her waist for support. She was trying so hard not to moan that it seemed to physically hurt her. Her nails dug into his skin but he didn't seem to mind. Finally satisfied with his work, he pulled back before softly kissing her cheek from her behind.

Breathless, Amelia opened her eyes and smiled at his goofy face. She then mock glared at him and whispered fiercely, " You'll pay for this, mister."

His face gleamed with a dazzling smile, "Oh, that's the whole plan all along. I'll definitely wait for it." He winked at her. She blushed deep red and hit his arm. Both of them laughed. They engaged in a deep conversation about their surgeries for the day and planned to watch movies together after their shifts.

As usual, Link ordered her coffee and paid. Amelia didn't even bother to protest, he just never listened.

Their hands were constantly bumping while walking towards the hospital. Neither of them noticed who held whose hand first. It just kept happening again and again. It became like a routine. Meeting each other first thing in the morning after reaching the hospital, walking back together, having lunch in the cafeteria, making out in the on-call room for several moments between surgeries and then occasionally him dropping her off to Mer's place after their shifts. This became like a routine. THEIR routine.

The elevator was partly empty by the time they entered. They were standing next to each other with his hand on her back when suddenly a large group of people entered the elevator together. It had suddenly become very crowded. To shield Amelia from the occasional bumping, he pulled her behind him at the back of the elevator and stood stoically in front of her. She stared at him with adoration for several long moments. She was utterly grateful for this man in her life. He is so damn thoughtful! I've never had someone thinking so selflessly about me. God, I love him.

Link always wanted to protect her from everything in the world. He had decided he would always be her shield and keep her away from ever getting hurt. She could always lean on him and find him in her corner. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt her soft fingers gently wrapped around his waist from behind and she hugged him. Link felt his heart burst with emotion and a gleeful smile framed his face. He slightly leaned back to reciprocate the hug and caressed her fingers with one hand.

They were locked into a tight embrace till the elevator cleared out and they reached the Neuro floor. Link pulled her from behind him and towards his body. He kissed her deeply before whispering, "Have a great day." Amelia sighed with delight and kissed his cheek before pulling back. "You too!" She then playfully ordered after getting out, "Miss mee!!" She heard his laughter as the doors closed. She was highly enjoying the hospital nowadays.

Four hours and two craniotomies later, Amelia was starving. She missed Link terribly and had texted him immediately after her surgery but there was no reply. Maybe he's in surgery. Pcchhhh. She wanted to meet Link. She loved having him around. She loved their conversations, their silences, their routine. She was content and didn't want to lose all of this. She knew it was too soon to feel like this, yet she had never felt like this in her entire life! This was not irrational and impulsive Tumor Amelia. This was new. Wait, love? Is it really love? It's too soon. Nope.

She went to the cafeteria and suddenly found her eyes wandering aimlessly. Where IS everybody?! Suddenly quite surprisingly there was no one in this freaking hospital for her to talk to. There was always someone. ALWAYS. People never seemed to mind their own business here. Everyone knew about everyone and everything. Privacy actually is a thing of the past here. Groaning she grabbed a cookie and went to the pit to look for some interesting. A surgery always helps, doesn't it?

Going to the pit proved to be fruitful. Well not like thaaat, if you know what I mean. Not that I want people to have injuries. Her patient needed an ortho consult stat before going into surgery. Luckily, Nico took over for him in the OR and he came for the consult. Amelia was really glad.

Accustomed with Link's plan of action, she had already ordered an MRI. She was trying to read the scans in the room when Link suddenly brushed past her moving to the screen just next to hers. Obviously, it was intentional. Amelia hid her smile and acted nonchalant. In reality, her skin was tingling where his skin brushed hers. A devious plan popped up in her head and she smirked. No one messed with Amelia Shepherd.

Acting serious, she deliberately brushed past his body and moved to his left. Link worked an eyebrow and looked down at where her skin touched his. He shrugged and concentrated on the scans. This happened again. And again. He smirked and tilted his head towards her. " What are you doing, Amelia? Is this your weird version of Tit for Tat, huh?," he asked with amusement.

Amelia feigned offence, " Hey! First of all, it's not weird. Second, what are you talking about?," she asked with innocence and blinked. He just squinted his eyes accusingly and looked down at her, trying to break her facade but she just shrugged and moved. AGAIN. This time, the scan Link was looking at suddenly interested her too much.

Unabashedly she moved to stand right in front of him and leaned back slightly. Link's breath hitched and his hand involuntarily moved towards her. But he stopped them just in time. He wanted to see how far she'd go even if that meant taking a very cold shower in the lounge afterwards. He could practically see her smirk from the back of her head! Oh this woman will be the death of me! She knows what she does to me. Everytime. He held in a breath.

Feigning interest in the upper part of the scan, she stood her tip toes and leaned back furthermore to trace her finger on the scan. This movement pushed her ass right into his groin. Notwithstanding any of this anymore, Link groaned and grabbed her waist tightly. He pulled her body snug towards him and breathed down her neck. " Well played, Amelia," he whispered seductively. Before he could start kissing down her neck, Amelia rotated her hips once before turning in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her body towards him which he gladly accepted. She kissed along his jaw and moved to his neck before brushing her lips with his.

Wanting to dominate the kiss, Link deepened the kiss and softly bit her bottom lip. Several moments later, she pulled back and moved towards his neck. Her kisses ignited a fire inside his body and he pulled her towards him even more. His fingers played with the hem of her top. She slided her fingers to his hair and gently tugging his hair. He groaned and moved his hand inside her top. She sighed loudly and bit his earlobe before seductively whispering, "The ball was always in my court, mister." She tugged his hair once last time before completely pulling back, leaving him shocked and equally frustrated.

She was grinning triumphantly whilst adjusting her top, all the while maintaining eye contact with him. Link groaned in frustration, " Ameliaaaaa...nooo. You cannot do this to meee! ", he whined. Amelia only laughed and blew a kiss at him while moving towards the door. " Tit for Tat, baby. I...have surgery. And you obviously need to take care of...that," she pointed towards his lower half. Link looked down horrified and completely missed her disappearing in the hallway.

Her laugh echoed making him laugh at her feistiness. God, I love that woman. I promise, one day I'll marry her. This was what he totally loved about her, she never backed down from a challenge. He shook his head at her antics with a loving smile on his face and stared at the door for few long seconds and moved to look at the scans, all the while adjusting his pants which was almost impossible in the condition she left him in.

Amelia's surgery finished early and she decided to wait for Link. She had texted Link. She even texted Meredith informing her that she would arrive home late. Upon receiving double question marks from her, she texted her that she would explain later. Maggie was the only person apart from Jo who knew about them. People were getting to know about them but the word hadn't spread much. For that she was grateful. All of the hospital gossip was now directed towards Jackson which she did not mind. That's the least he can go through for dumping my sister the way that he did, she puffed her cheeks and rolled her eyes.

In the attendings' lounge, about twenty minutes later, Link came running. She looked up from her instagram and chuckled at his disheveled appearance, " I will never get how you can run so much." She shook her head. Link laughed and leaned close to her face, whispering hoarsely, " Got to keep myself in shape," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Amelia stopped chucking and looked deep into his eyes.

Link pulled back and removed his scrub too right in front of her face, his torso directly in her immediate lone of vision. Amelia's eyes darkened at the sight and she gulped. She suddenly found herself drooling and wanted so badly to touch those damn sexy abs. Her eyes patiently roamed his bare figure before meeting his eyes. He was enjoying it thoroughly. He was observing her face the whole time and smirked proudly. Her hungry, dark orbs met his playful, blue ones. They stared at each other for several long moments. His smirk grew even more and he flexed his pecks once before breaking eye contact and moving towards his cubby.

Amelia gulped and tried to calm her nerves. When did it get so hot in here?! She wanted to fan her face at the sight of his bare back but caught ahold of herself. She was ogling him shamelessly and she was painfully cognizant that he was aware of this fact. But she didn't care. That man is beautiful! It would be a shame not to stare at such a gorgeously sculpted man. But only I can stare! No one else. And why is he taking so long to change?!

" What?!," she shouted pointedly. She looked at him accusingly. Link turned around with pure innocence, " What?," he blinked like a child.

" Do it fast !"

" Do what fast?," he prompted feigning confusion. But he could not trick her.

" We're getting late. Change faster, Link!," she was getting really aroused and could not trust herself any longer. She even pointed her finger at him for extra measure. Link hid his smile and raised his arms in surrender. Suddenly he possessed the speed of lightning and was ready to leave in no time. He smirked and shrugged proudly.

Amelia shook her head and rolled her eyes at his petulance, " Couldn't you have done that sooner? " Link only laughed in response and took her hand in his.

They silently left the hospital and drove in Link's car. They were each telling how their day was when he pulled the car to a movie rental store. It was already late so they figured that they would rent a movie and watch at his place with pizza and popcorn. Each selected a movie of their choice, Amelia a rom-com and Link a superhero movie. Both of them laughed at the cliche an proceeded to get the pizza.

Amelia had spent the night at his place before so she already had extra clothes there. Link changed into his boxers and a loose tshirt while Amelia was in the washroom, freshening up. He laid put her pajamas on the bed before going to the kitchen to warm the pizza. He even prepared the popcorn and proceeded to keep the food on the on the sofa. He got comfortable by the time she arrived. He turned his head in her direction and felt the wind knocked out of his chest.

She had never looked sexier to him. She was wearing nothing but his old Mariners tshirt which was triple her size and hanged loosely on her body. It didn't even reach mid-thigh !! Her long, slim legs were completely bare and he had a hard time trying to concentrate on something other than her legs. Amelia dressed in his clothes made her ten times sexier. God, this woman surprises me every time! How does she expect me hold back when she's dressed like that?! Ugghh, Ameliaaaa. He silently groaned when she nonchalantly sat close to him and stretched her legs on the table in front. His eyes just could not leave her legs!

She snatched the remote from his lap and showed him a 'V' sign. She grinned and played her movie. Link stared at her, mesmerised. How can a person be so beautiful, both in and out?! She is the cutest human being on the planet. Wanting to feel her close to him, he pulled her close. He wrapped arm around her and she laid her head comfortably on his shoulder. They had their pizza while watching the movie. Well, Amelia watched the movie whereas Link watched her. He admired her completely and placed an impromptu kiss on her head.

Suddenly he reached into the pizza box only to find that one slice was left. Amelia had reached for a slice at the same time and their hands bumped. Both of them looked at each other with determination willing the other to back out. Amelia was quick to react though. She snatched the box and took off running. Link was both amused and determined to win at the same time. He followed her in the whole apartment and their laughter could be heard from a mile away.

Link was amazed. For such a petite person, she sure could run very fast. Her lack of clothing did not help his case either. His arousal was increasing by the minute. He followed her into the kitchen and it was now his turn to think quicker. He successfully trapped her between the kitchen counter and his body. Amelia tried to wiggle away but her efforts went in vain. He squinted his eyes and mock threatened her, " Give me the box, Amelia."

Defiance ran in her veins. " Nope. The slice is mine." She moved to open the box but before she could do that, Link pinned her hand behind her. The atmosphere in the room rapidly changed. Suddenly highly aware of their proximity, Amelia looked into his eyes only to find them dark with desire. Amelia wanted to melt at the hungry look he was giving her. I just don't want to wait anymore!

Link pushed himself closer to her to gauge her reaction. But she was visibly panting thereby encouraging him. He pried the pizza box from her hand and place it behind her on the counter, never once breaking the eye contact. His eyes fluttered closed and he inched his face closer but when he was only centimeters away from her lips, she whispered, " Link..."

Thinking she's asking him to stop so that they could take things slow, Link pulled back slightly but didn't remove his hands from her body. He desperately whined, " Please don't ask me to stop, Amelia. Screw 'taking this slow'. I don't want to take things slow with you, Amelia. I'm all in. Do you hear me? All in. And I really, really like you. So let's just please forget about that. I really wanna feel you close to me. It's been too long, Amelia and I miss you! Also, how do you even expect me control myself while you waltz in the room wearing nothing but MY tshirt looking so damn sexy that I couldn't remove my eyes from you! You're killing me here, woman," he groaned.

Amelia stopped his rant by putting a finger to his lips. She then cupped his cheeks and made him look into her eyes. She smiled widely at him and whispered seductively, " Shut up, Link and just kiss me already! " Link looked at her with astonishment before grinning mischievously and picking her up in his arms. He placed her on the counter. He pried her legs open and stood between them.

The tshirt rode way up exposing her creamy thighs. Link ran his hands up her thighs and groaned, " God, you're sooo sexy, Amelia." She moaned and pulled him in by his tshirt for a bruising kiss. It had been too long. There was no stopping them now.

Their tongues were battling for dominance. Link wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled body close to his. Amelia played with the hem of his tshirt and pulled it above his head, momentarily breaking the kiss. Link used this opportunity to his advantage and completely dominated the kiss this time. He was hungrily kissing, biting, nipping and licking her lips. Amelia desperately groaned and held onto his shoulders with dear life. That kiss was single handedly capable of making her cum!

He moved down to her neck and pulled his tshirt down to fully expose her left shoulder. Amelia tilted her head to give him more access which he gladly accepted. He slid her right hand up her body and grabbed her breast. She moaned loudly and tugged his hair with her fingers. She bucked her hips forward in desperate need of friction. He was palming her breast through the tshirt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him even more towards her.

He pulled back slightly only to remove her, rather, his tshirt from her body. He blatantly stared at her, taking her in, mesmerized. She was not wearing a bra underneath!! She definitely wanted to kill me tonight! She had given him enough time to start at her body and couldn't wait any longer. She pulled him down and kissed him fiercely. She ran her hand down his torso along his strong abs. Oh, I wanted to touch them for soooo long! Wanting to completely devour her, he picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist whilst he carried her towards the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss.

He sat on the edge of the bed with her sitting on his lap. He squeezed her cheeks pulling her further towards him. Both of them groaned. Amelia pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. She leaned down to whisper in his ear, " No more of this 'taking things slow' crap. I'm all in, too. And just by the way... I like you a lot too, Atticus Lincoln." She grinned down at him. Her words pulled at his heart strings and he quickly changed their positions. He pinned her arms above her head and smirked down at her, "That's good, Amelia Shepherd. That's the nicest thing I've ever heard," before diving in.

Author's Note:

Heyyy guysss!!! Sorry for being AWOL for soooo long. I don't even know what came over me when I took such a long break. Huuhh, writing again is so refreshing! I missed all of my readers!

This is a brand new chapter for you. I hope you really, really it ;))) Again, I apologize for the delay in updating this story. ( please don't hit me, guys 😅🙈 )

Anyway, don't forget to vote and do drop some comments! I just looovee reading your comments. They encourage me so freaking much! Thank you guys for all the love!❤ I surely don't deserve so much. Next chapter will be up in a few days. Until then.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Protect My Heart: Part 8

Fandom: Marvel (Bodyguard AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re an actress and after an assassination attempt on your life, your manager hires a bodyguard that will be with you 24/7.

A/N: For @buckthegrump ‘s writing challenge.

SMACK!

Bucky stared at you wide-eyed after your palm came in contact with his cheek. You were upset. Pissed. Angry. Seething. And, quite frankly, Bucky didn’t know why. You should be scared! Your boyfriend of three months is out to kill you!

“I can’t believe you would make up some lie to stop me from going away with Brock!”

“Y/N-”

“No, Bucky! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you being so irrational and overbearing and overprotective and paranoid! I’m sick of you having to do a background check on every single one of my friends! I’m sick that you keep coming up with these lies and excuses to get me to break up with Brock! I love him, Bucky!”

Bucky’s breath was stolen from his lungs and not in a good way, “Y/N, you’ve only known him for three-”

“I don’t care, Bucky. The way I feel for him, I-I’ve never felt this way before. Never. I know it’s too soon, but I love him. I can’t-won’t leave him, Bucky. He loves me too. I know he does.” 

Well shit. Things got a lot more complicated. 

He let out a deep breath, trying to appear as calm as possible, “Y/N, I promise you, on my life, I know what I heard.”

“Do you have proof?”

He looked at you confused, “What? No, why would I have proof? And it’s not like you can just ask him upfront if he’s going to murder you!” he took another deep breath. Take it easy, Barnes. Nat warned you about your temper, “Y/N, you’re my friend and I care about you. Yes, I’ve been an overbearing dick and sometimes I can be unreasonable, but please, please, Y/N. Listen to me this one time. You can’t go with Brock. You can’t be anywhere near him. He’s dangerous.”

You looked into Bucky’s eyes and saw how much fear and desperation in them. You could hear in his voice the genuine worry and concern he had for you. He had to be telling the truth. 

“Okay,” you breathed out.

“Okay?”

You nodded, “Okay. But what do I do? If I break up with him now, it’ll seem too suspicious. Everything’s been going great between us and breaking up with him would be too out of the blue.”

Bucky bit his lip, hesitating on an idea that came to mind, “I have an idea. You might not really like it though.”

You and Bucky walked down the street. His hair was in a bun at the nape of his neck and sunglasses on his face. You wore your own sunglasses and a baseball hat. Your arm was hooked around Bucky’s. You heard a screech of tires and the slamming of a van door. 

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!” two paparazzi yelled as they pointed their cameras at you, “Y/N! Is this your new boyfriend?”

“What happened to the other guy?!”

“Are you cheating on your current boyfriend with this guy?!”

You were mentally cursing the paparazzi. They really had no shame. And no filter, it seems. 

“Hey, dude! What’s your name? Can you tell us your name?!”

“What’s your relation to Y/N L/N?!”

The next day, Steve drops a stack of tabloids onto your coffee table. Pictures of you and Bucky plastered on the front. 

Y/N L/N WITH NEW BEAU?!

Was the headline on one of them. 

“Jesus, they work fast,” Bucky grumbled, picking up one of the magazines. He flipped through it to find the article of him and Y/N. He cleared his throat and began to read, “Y/N L/N seems to be cozying up with her bodyguard and new beau, James Barnes. Barnes is a former Army veteran and currently works for Tony Stark’s security company. He has worked security detail for many politicians around the world. Sources say he’s the best at what he does, including stealing the heart of the breakout star.”

“I’m so uncomfortable right now,” you mumbled with a cringe and Bucky continued you.

“We thought L/N was still dating Brock Rumlow, a man who works for the rival company of Stark’s, Anvil. Is Barnes swooping in for a little payback? Well, we talked with Rumlow ourselves and he says that him and Y/N are still very much dating and very much happy. Are you sure about that, Brock?” he closes the magazine and tosses it back onto the table. 

“Well, that explains why Brock texted me late last night about wanting to talk,” you muttered.

And Bucky straightened up, “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “He texted me when I was asleep, Bucky. I saw it when I woke up and I didn’t have time to tell you because I was bombarded with this,” you said all too aggressively, “He wants to meet at Crossroads Cafe.”

Bucky winced, “Right. Sorry. I, uh, if you’re meeting him, then I think Hope should accompany you. She’s good at undercover work.”

“Alright,” You looked at the time on your phone, “I have to meet him in two hours. I’m gonna start getting ready.”

You walked past Bucky and Steve, heading up the stairs to your bedroom. Hope, Sam, and Nat were all up against the wall, listening and watching. 

Steve sighed, plopping down onto the couch beside Bucky, “You sure you know what you’re doing, pal?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure. If it looks like Y/N and I are starting to become closer than just friends, then it’ll make Rumlow doubt her feelings for him.”

“And your plans for Y/N meeting Rumlow today?”

“I’ll think of something, Steve. Don’t worry. I’m keepin’ her safe, just like I promised.”

Sam snorted, “That and more,” which earned him a slap on the arm from Hope, “Ow! What the-”

“You like her, don’t you?” Steve asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Bucky shrugged, “Even if I did, and I’m saying I do, but if I did, she wouldn’t feel the same. She says we’re friends, but I know she’s just bein’ nice. All I’ve ever been to her was an asshole, Steve. She can’t possibly like me.”

“Well, pretending or not, you two make a better couple than her and Rumlow. You two look a lot more natural together.” he gave his old friend a pat on the shoulder and stood up to leave. 

Bucky stood, following him to the door, walking him out, “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if I did like Y/N, should I tell her? I mean, after all this stuff with Rumlow is over?”

Steve chuckled to himself, give his head a slight shake, “Hypothetically speaking, if you did like Y/N, yes, you should tell her. But when it seems like the right time to you.”

“Right. Got it. Thanks,” he gave his old friend a grateful smile.

Steve gave him a salute, “Anytime, Buck,” and slipped into his car, driving away moments later. 

When Bucky turned around, he jumped, “Jesus on a fucking stick!” Nat stood there before him, arms crossed over her chest and her signature smirk on her mouth.

“I don’t like this idea. Someone’s gonna get hurt, Bucky, and I don’t mean physically.”

“It was the only thing I could come up with Nat,” he grumbled as he made his way back inside your house. 

“You’re playing with emotions here. You know that’s never a good thing when it comes to our line of work.”

“I know,” he gritted out, “But I’ll handle it. I promise.” Despite his words, Nat and himself knew that he had no fucking clue how he was going to handle it, or you, or his feelings for you.

Protect My Heart Taglist (CLOSED): @badassbaker @mrsdaamneron @avengersbabe13@hiddles-rose @denimandcabernet @courtmr @bitchwhytho@thebookwormslytherin @emilysallysmith @partiallyinthecloset@randomfandompenguin @thefridgeismybestie @wellfucksorrymum@moonlightbae14 @feelmyroarrrr @chewymoustachio @doctoranon@winchesterandpie @myawkwardnessisshowing @aletheladyinred @lilbit-ofsunlight @hennessy0274-blog @farfromjustordinary @msanimeotaku181 @evilzinblr @desibarnes @usernamemingmei @ravenshadowsoldier@viarogers @ediblemurderer @mavelfanatic @justrepostandlove

[captain-mcdavid]

(pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3)

smut: yes | no

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut, swearing, angst, unprotected sex, *age difference (disclaimer: this is fiction, i am in no way suggesting that these are colton’s preferences. if you are uncomfortable with a slight age difference, the one in this story is six years, then this is probably not a good piece for you.)

The hours after Colton left were mostly a blur.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions that the only thing that felt rational was hopping on a plane. 

When you showed up with bags messily packed at midnight, the next flight out was at 10:45. There was plenty of time for Colton to realize you were gone and come after you, but you knew he wouldn’t. Not after how things ended. There was also plenty of time for you to leave and go back, but the only thing about eleven hours in an airport... It gives you lot of time to think. It was basically eleven hours for you to dwell on the fact that Colton tried to replace you. By hour one you were upset. Hour two you were mad. Hour three, you were infuriated. And there aren’t enough synonyms for angry to get through the other eight hours. You were so angry you started to calculate time, how many hours you were here, how many hours since you’ve eaten, how many hours since you’d slept, anything to take your mind off of him. 

You were so mad you couldn’t even begin to think about his side of things. 

Which is why you got on the three hour plane ride home, and why you’re getting into a cab at the Edmonton airport. Three hours was enough for you to convince yourself that it was for the best, it would have ended anyway. 

Fourteen hours later, you’re still calculating time, you haven’t slept, and you’re so emotionally exhausted that you can’t even be bothered to take off your coat or clothes when you walk through your front door.

It’s about 5 in the evening when you fall asleep for the first time in forty eight hours, and when you’re woken up by Lauren storming into your apartment it doesn’t feel like you’ve gathered enough rest for what’s about to come.You almost forgot that you texted her before you left. 

“What time is it?” Wiping your eyes you speak with a groggy voice. 

“Ten thirty,” She says shortly, opening the curtains to let in the light behind them. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

You shrug at her and she rolls her eyes. “This is what was always going to happen, we weren’t gonna work out right? So it’s done. For real this time.”

She scans your body sprawled out on the couch, while you rub your temples to soothe the aching in your head. Stalking to the end of the couch where your feet are, she yanks off one of your boots, and then the other before saying, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

The clear mad tone to her voice is like a trigger for you, and you shut your eyes tight, because you know that all fourteen hours of built up anger are gonna come out of you at once. Before you can stammer out a response she’s talking again. “No, don’t. You need some tough love right now. I thought you’d figure this out on your own but obviously you’re so dense that you can’t.”

She swipes your legs off the couch and you sit up, trying not to look at her. 

“You’re self sabotaging.” She states firmly. “Stop it.”

“I’m self sabotaging because it’s never going to work out, Lauren!” You’ve never actually yelled at her before, but there’s a first time for everything. “I don’t need to hear another speech about how I’m the one walking away all the time because I know that now, but I was just doing the inevitable!”

“You don’t know that!” Lauren fights back, raising her voice just as much. “You won’t even try for more than five fucking days cause you’re so scared of being rejected again!”

“And what that’s not a rational fear? Are you sure about that cause the second he left Edmonton last season he found a replacement who looked exactly like me, only thing is, she was his age!”

Her eyes soften when you tell her, and just like that you’re back to tears again. They’re angry tears though now, and you’re not ready to stop yelling it. It feels good to get it all out. “Don’t tell me that I’m stupid for being scared of what would have eventually happened, because he would have realized soon enough that six years was too much, and I would have been brokenhearted again.” You finish, getting to your feet to walk away, but Lauren stands.

“It is an irrational fear. And you’re so blinded by it that you can’t see that he is so fucking in love with you!”

“Oh my god! I’m not gonna do this again,” You’re trying to walk away but Lauren grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

“If you won’t listen to him, listen to me.” It’s a plea, her voice has quieted significantly, and you don’t want to hear it but you know she won’t leave until you do. “Listen to me.” She says again.

You pull your wrist from her grasp, folding your arms over your chest, waiting for her to continue. 

“Your replacement? This girl that you’re so hung up on? Where is she now?” Lauren asks, and you furrow your eyebrows. “No idea, right?” She continues, “Exactly, she’s gone because even though she looked just like you and she was his age and all that bullshit, she wasn’t you. You’re so butt hurt by him trying to move on that you’re forgetting that he didn’t actually move on. He came back to you.” 

Lauren is literally out of breath from her rant, and you look on stunned. You’d be lying if you said that her words weren’t hitting home. 

“He has come back to you so many times.”

Especially those ones. 

“I have one more question okay? One more. Then you can make your final decision.” She speaks softly and you’re not sure if you’re ready for what’s coming?

“It’s a six year difference, and people will tell you it’s wrong, but has it ever felt wrong?”

You find yourself shaking your head immediately, and Lauren smiles a sad smile. “I’ve been rooting for you guys from the start, and now you need to start too. Fight for what’s right.” She finishes with a chuckle at her cheesy comment and for the first time in you’re not even sure how many hours, you smile too. 

“I’m a fucking idiot aren’t I?”

“Oh totally.” She laughs, “We could have had this argument over the phone, because you’re about to get on another plane.”

You lift your hand to your forehead with a sigh, “I’m getting on another plane,”

“You’re getting on another plane!” Lauren yells again, making you laugh. “Go take a shower and get your shit together, I’ll book you a flight.” 

This time you didn’t actually have to wait at all, Lauren practically yanked you out of the shower, yelling about a flight leaving in an hour and a half. When you touch down in St Louis it’s 3:30 their time, and it’s been 36 hours since you left, and you’re still calculating time for some stupid reason. 

You haven’t even thought about what you’re going to say to him when you see him, and the closer you get to his house, the more nervous you feel. The underlying fear of rejection is still there no matter how confident you go into this.

When he said he was done, he might have meant it in a way that you can’t change. But you’re the one who needs to take strides to keep him in your life now, and you know you can’t let the fear of heartbreak stop you from trying. 

When you walk into the lobby of his building, suitcase strolling behind you, the last person you expect to see is yourself...

She’s about three inches taller than you, her shoulders a little bit more broad, but she’s most definitely the twenty five year old you... Your faces aren’t identical, but she looks like she could be your sister for sure. 

The wind feels like it’s been knocked out of you, and you can only stare while she sits on the couches, scrolling through something on her phone. 

Your mind goes so blank that you can’t even feel your limbs as they turn you right around and bullet you towards the doors. There’s someone coming towards you but you’re so unfocused on what you’re doing that you don’t even look at who it is until they’ve grabbed your upper arm. 

Your neck cranes up to see the tall man that’s stopped you. He looks at you and then back towards where twenty five year old you was sitting. It takes him about point five of a second to realize what’s just happened before he’s stepping in front of you, blocking your way out completely. 

“Joel,” You say weakly, your head getting a little less foggy. “I need to go,” Tears are already starting to slide down your cheeks and you really don’t want him to see this. 

“I know how this looks, okay?” He starts, “But nothing happened.” 

You scoff, trying to move past him, but he bends down to make eye contact, “Y/N, if you were going up there to do what we’re all hoping you are, you can’t let this stop you,” 

“It looks like he went for her right after I left, again.” You cry, throwing a hand up. 

“He was hurt, you left and he was hurt so yeah he phoned her, and then he got drunk off his ass and passed out. I promise you, nothing happened. I was just up there and he could barely even put his suit on without having three shots of espresso. He’s so hungover, the amount he drank? He would have been debilitated last night, nothing could have happened, and it was all whiskey so he probably couldn’t even get it-”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” You interrupt, hoping he won’t go any further. 

“Yeah? Maybe, I don’t know, it’s supposed to stop you from leaving again.” He says. You study his eyes and it warms your heart that he actually looks so genuinely scared for his teammate.

“Is he okay?” You watch Joel’s face when you ask, and that’s enough to tell you it was a stupid question. 

“No,” He says. “Not at all.” 

You pause, just looking at him, trying to figure out what’s going through your head because everything feels so strange. 

“Just at least go up and talk to him, we have to leave soon, but he’s still up there.”

He looks at you expectingly, and you realize he’s not gonna leave until you agree, so you nod. He gives you a small smile before he turns and walks out of the building. 

You watch him leave and you think about calling Lauren, but you know exactly what she’ll tell you to do, so you decide to skip the conversation and trust Joel. He said nothing happened. 

You turn around and you feel deflated all over again when you see that she’s still there. You don’t have much time but you’re unable to stop yourself from sitting down across from her. Her eyes catch on you and she gives a small smile before looking back down at her phone. 

You can’t imagine how you must look right now, because you literally can’t take your eyes off her. You’re blatantly staring, and she’s definitely starting to notice. Her line of sight flashes quickly back and forth between you, the creepy staring stranger, and her phone.  

“Uber’s take forever sometimes,” She says with a uncomfortable chuckle. It’s clear that she’s trying to make the situation less awkward, so you try too, responding with a nod and a smile. 

Your gaze shifts to your feet and you realize how dumb you are for doing this. You want answers from her, but you can’t exactly say, “Hey, did you sleep with my sort of boyfriend last night?” Her eyes are trained on you now while you shift uncomfortably. 

You shake your head, getting ready to stand up when she speaks again. 

“You’re her aren’t you?” 

You’re not totally sure how to answer, so you just raise your eyebrows. 

“We do look alike, wow. I was really hoping you weren’t prettier than me, but you are. Damn.” She shoves her phone in her purse as she sizes you up, and even next to Colton you’ve never felt smaller. “You want to know if I slept with him right?” 

Well, she definitely wasn’t you personality wise...

You’re totally shocked into silence, so you just look at your feet, not sure if you should answer that or not. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m really tempted to tell you that I did just because I feel threatened...” Your heart nearly stops and you look back up at her. 

“But Colton is literally the nicest guy I’ve ever met, and he deserves to be happy, so I’m not gonna ruin that for him. Nothing happened last night.” 

You lift a hand to your face to swipe away the single tear that rolls own your cheek. You feel so relieved that you could sprint for the elevator right now. 

“He loves you a lot,” She gives you a gentle smile and you smile back. “I thought I was coming over to get laid but I spent the entire night listening to him talk about you.” She laughs and rolls her eyes at the same time, and you literally think you feel your heart clench. “I really wish he felt that way about me, but after all of that-” She motions backwards with an blown out look on her face and you laugh. “It’s clear that he won’t, you guys have something special. An age gap doesn’t change that.”

“Thank you,” You whisper, standing up. You think she’s done so you start to walk away, but she speaks again. 

“You know you’re a lucky girl...” Her eyes flicker downward and you furrow your eyebrows. “To be loved by someone like him. He’s amazing.”

You can see in her eyes that she has real feelings for him too, and even though you know it’d be super weird, you feel the urge to go back and give her a hug. But you have the feeling that’d be a little out of bounds so you just smile and say, “I am. Really lucky.”

The elevator doesn’t seem fast enough, so you opt for the stairs, going as fast as your legs will let you. You do the awkward walk jog down his hall as you pass people, all of them give you weird looks, but you can’t be bothered to care.

You shove the key he gave you into the door, swinging it open with way more force than needed while you shout, “Colton?” 

But there’s no response. 

You wander aimlessly around the house, hoping he’s somewhere and he just didn’t hear you, but it’s obvious that he’s not here anymore. You missed him. 

He must have been in the elevator while you were going up the stairs, and it literally feels like such a blow, because wow, what are the odds of that happening?

You don’t want to wait to see him, but you know you’re going to have to, so you make yourself some supper and watch some reruns of friends. The time before his game goes by so slowly, and once you finally see him on the ice, the minutes go by a little faster. 

He’s not playing well, his minutes are significantly lower than usual, and every time he steps out onto the ice he looks slow, and tired. You know him well enough to know that this will make him angry. You weren’t expecting him to come home happy but you weren’t thinking he would be mad either. 

When the game is done, you’re trying to think over what you’re gonna say, but at some point, you end up passed out on the couch. 

When you wake up there’s a blanket on you that wasn’t there before, and you can’t even pin point when you fell asleep but obviously you did. Colton’s suit jacket is laid over the back of the chair across the room, and his shoes are by the front door. The excitement you feel knowing he’s home makes you scramble off the couch, searching the rooms to find out where he is. 

When you step into his room and hear the shower running, you debate waiting again, but you decide you’ve waited long enough. At least those are your thoughts until all your clothes are off. 

Now you just feel nervous, and you end up counting to three four times over before you finally have the guts to open the door, and now your legs are shaking as you wobble towards his figure behind the curtain.

It’s pathetic really, how afraid you are of admitting that this is your fault. You don’t know why blame is such a hard thing for you to own, but it just is.

He must have heard you already cause he doesn’t startle when you pull back the curtain. He’s facing you, hands rubbing through his hair. He only meets your eyes for a moment before his gaze drops to his feet. You lift a leg over the barrier, your tail between your legs. It’s impossible to tell what his reaction to your touch will be right now, but you try anyway, gliding your hands up his chest and up to his collarbones. He looks at you again, and you stare back, trying to gain back the courage you had a few minutes ago, but all you can see is the anger and sadness in his eyes, and it breaks you all over again. Tears are slipping out now, of course, and you’re frozen in the moment, unable to speak.

Colton’s line of sight drops a little lower, pausing at your mouth. You’re not sure why, or what he’s thinking, but it’s probably not the same thing that you are. You hesitate for a second before standing on your tip toes to press your lips to his.

This isn’t what you came here to do, and this isn’t going to make anything better, but you just need some type of comfort from him even though you don’t exactly deserve it. 

Kissing him usually makes all your problems go away. His affections help you forget everything wrong with your relationship, you’re hoping for that again but you realize you’re not going to get it when Colton’s hands land on your hips. You know what he’s about to do, and everything inside of you hurts. He’s pushing you away. Physically but it feels emotional too.

You try your best to hang on, to keep yourself close to him but he’s too strong, and you give up, sobbing when you land back on flat feet. With a last attempt your hands scramble down to keep his touch on your waist. You hold his hands there, looking down as the water soaks your hair.

You have to own up to this.

That’s the only way you’re going to keep him.

When you feel like you’ve gained back the ability to speak, the first words that make it out are, “I’m sorry,”

You don’t expect him to say anything, but you still pause for a second before continuing.

“I want you in my life,” More tears. Fuck, of course there’s more tears. “I want you in my life so badly, but I’ve been so afraid of rejection. And I know that it’s been me leaving, I realize that now and I’m sorry I blamed this on you.”

He’s finally looking back at you again, and for a second you think that maybe that will be enough. Maybe you won’t have to bare your entire soul, but when there’s nothing once again on his end you know you have to keep going. You’ve completely forgotten everything you had rehearsed, so you’re just gonna have to wing it. 

“It’s been 48 hours since I last saw you,” You start, and his eyebrows furrow. Really? That’s what you’ve come up with all of the sudden? More time calculations? “When I left, I needed eleven hours to fully convince myself that leaving you was the right idea. And I needed three hours to convince myself that it was for the best. But I didn’t even need one hour to convince myself to come back.” 

This is so off topic, and it sounds so ridiculous, so you try your best to reel it in. “God, this sounds so stupid.” You mumble, lifting a hand to swipe your tears away. 

Colton lifts his hand from under yours and interlocks your fingers, and that’s all you need to keep going. 

“What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t ever think I would meet the love of my life at nineteen years old. I didn’t think I would fall in love with you at a fucking beer pong table right when I looked at you. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t expect any of it. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to love you as much as I do now.”

You’re crying so much that you can’t even look at him anymore, dropping your head you continue, tangling your hands together and picking at your nails. “The first time, when you told me this wouldn’t work, I was absolutely destroyed, because after knowing you for just one month I knew I would never love another person like I loved you. The pain I felt after that was indescribable. And every time since then, I’ve pushed you away because of it. I’ve walked out on you because I didn’t want you to walk out on me first, and I’m sorry. I was so scared of rejection that I couldn’t see what you were trying to do when you brought me here. I thought that I was protecting my heart, because I felt like you were eventually going to realize that six years was too much, but it’s not. Six years is nothing compared to how much I love you, and I’m not going to let others decide that we’re wrong because we’re not, everything about this, about us, is right, and I’m just so fucking sorry,” Your sobbing is probably prohibiting your speech at this point, but you try to choke out the rest while you’re on a roll. “I know my faults now, and I’m not gonna leave again unless you tell me to,”

He’s silent still, while you stare at the ground, and it feels like forever has passed before he crooks his index finger under your chin, gently pulling your head up. 

“I love you.” He whispers, “More than anything.” Then he presses his lips to yours and it’s like everything falls back into place. He pulls your body against his and you’re finally allowing yourself to feel how right everything between the two of you is. He feels like everything to you and you swear your heart is actually bursting inside of you. 

He pulls back, but keeps you close, closing his eyes while he rests his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry too.” 

“Don’t Colton-” You start but he stops you.

“No, I am. I’m sorry for what I put you through. And I’m sorry for everything today that happened with Joel, I’m sorry that I called her. That I ever even met her. I shouldn’t have done that. Fuck, it was unfair to her. I’m so in love with you there was no room for anything else. You’re it. You’re all there is for me.”

“I don’t wanna hear anymore apologies.” You sigh, placing a small kiss to his lips. 

“I don’t wanna see you walk out that door ever again.” He lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist and you smile, pushing his hair back. 

You lean in for one more kiss before whispering against his lips, “Never ever.”

He kisses you back, harder his time and you run your hands through his hair arching your back to get even closer to him. He turns to press you against the wall and you can’t help but smile, cause you know exactly where this is going. 

It takes you by surprise though when he flings back the shower curtain, turning off the water before walking you out of the bathroom. 

“Colton, we’re soaked!” You squeal, but his lips just trail down your neck. His kiss is about to make you forget that you’re dripping all over the floor, but then you’re being launched into the air. 

You suck in a breath when you land on the bed, eyes locking on Colton as he hovers over you. He kisses you again and you let him, before turning your head. “How are we supposed to sleep here? The bed is gonna be all wet,” 

“There’s a guest room,” He murmurs, nibbling on your ear. 

“We’re gonna get towels before we bang in that one right?” You laugh, but it mixes with a moan when his free hand grazes your nipple. 

“Okay, I like where your head is it, with round two in the guest room-” He starts with a grin, “And yes we’re gonna get towels, but can you just shut up and let me kiss you?” 

You nod, connecting your lips while he reaches down to hook his hand underneath your knee, he pushes up while he slides down, his lips following his movements down your body. 

He places a delicate kiss on your mound before licking firmly up your slit, stopping to circle his tongue around your clit. He sucks hard, pushing your other leg up to spread you wider. He licks into your entrance and you arch off the bed with an inhumane noise, grabbing at his arm. He lifts onto his elbow, licking back up at your clit while he teases your entrance with one of his fingers. He pushes it slowly in and your grip on his other hand gets tighter.

“Colton,” You moan out and he groans against you. “I need you inside me,”

He slides his finger out of you and sucks it into his mouth before scaling back up the bed to hover over you. You start to roll onto your side, knowing he likes taking you from the back but he pushes you back over easily, shaking his head. 

“Not yet,” He whispers, sliding his forearms under the backs of your shoulders. You wind your arms around him and then he slides in slowly, groaning when he bottoms out. He stays like that for a minute, eyes clenched shut while he waits for you to get used to him. You lift up slightly to press your lips to his and he sighs, breathing into your mouth. 

“I love you so much,” He whispers, kissing you gently. 

“I love you,” You repeat, stammering slightly when he rolls his hips against yours. He keeps his mouth on yours while he rocks into you, licking into your mouth.

He disconnects and raises up a bit, sliding an arm out from underneath you to reach down to where your connected. “You’re absolutely stunning,” He breathes, rubbing at your clit. You arch off the bed and he groans watching you, loving the way you feel clenched around him. “Here, baby.” He pulls out and you can’t help but whine while he guides you to roll over. 

You get up onto your knees and elbows, and he pushes your leg further out to spread you more for him. He pushes into your from behind and you cry out at how good the different angle feels. He rocks into you a few times before his hands travel up, resting on your rib cage to pull you off your elbows until your resting against his chest. He swipes your hair off your shoulder and you crane your neck around to kiss him quickly. 

His lips slide down to your neck and collarbone where he gently bites the skin. You moan, your head lulling back to rest against his shoulder when his hands grip at your breasts. One stays there, and he rolls your nipple in between his fingers while his other hand falls down to rub at your clit. 

“Colton,” You cry, jerking against him when you grazes your g spot. 

“I’m right here, baby.” He coaxes, rocking into you again. He hits the spot again and your head falls forward but he holds you still against him, rubbing harder at your clit to get you there. 

“Colton, I’m so close,” You whisper, grabbing onto his forearm. 

“Come on, sweetheart, let go,” His lips slide up and down your shoulder and your breathing gets heavier as he carries you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

He’s rocking into you faster and you can tell he’s getting close too. One last roll of his rips has him pressing into your g spot, and you’re over the edge just like that, jerking against him when he rubs at your oversensitive clit. You clench around him and he growls deep in his chest, cock twitching inside you before you feel his warmth spreading. 

He holds you still against him so you don’t fall flat on your face, gently leading your body down to the mattress. He slips out of you and you roll over, giving him a lazy smile while he folds in beside you. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers.

“You’ve said that a few times,” You grin. “But I love you too.”

“Stay with me,” He whispers, his grip on your waist getting tighter. You look back and up at him when you answer so he knows that you mean it. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” 

Then he kisses you hard, and your heart clenches in your chest, warmth exploding everywhere in your body. 

You slide out of the bed with a smirk and he sits up on his elbow, furrowing his brows with a grin. 

“I’m not going anywhere expect the guestroom, cause that bed is cold and wet. You’re welcome to come,” Backing out of the room Colton laughs, getting out of the soaked sheets. 

“You’re welcome to cum, cause I’m gonna eat mine out of you.” 

“Jesus christ!” You stammer, not expecting those words to come out of polite Colton’s mouth. “Where did that come from?”

He laughs and lifts you slightly to set you on the bed. “We’ve got a lot to learn about each other still,” He pauses to kiss you before continuing. 

“And there’s lots more where that came from.”

[bohemian-napsodyy]

I need more Freddie angst okay,,, give me a n y t h I n g,,just make it angsty I’m begging you

you got it, nonnie! I’ll add an actual angsty Freddie fic to my To-Write List because I don’t have any angst for him planned up till now! 

But since it might be a while before I release that imagine, here’s an Angsty Headcanon to tide you over for now 😉

Your First Fight

up until now, your relationship had actually been magical

you didn’t even think it was possible, but for some reason you and Freddie just seemed to understand each other on a whole other level

it was like your strengths perfectly balanced his weaknesses, and vice versa

so it was easy to pick the other up when one of you was feeling down or upset

…..until the moment you got upset at him for the first time in your relationship

hooooo boy

your request wasn’t even irrational at all

you just expressed how frustrated you were that Freddie was constantly going in to the studio to record

“Freddie, I get it — you have to finish the album before the end of the month, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Darling, I’m looking at you right now.”

Freddie would be cheeky about it at first

he wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you’re just teasing or if you’re actually mad

and to be honest, he really didn’t want to get angry at you

so he takes all your comments way too lightly, hoping to cheer you up

it does the exact opposite

it’s when you start raising your voice, about how both of you need to try and make your relationship work that he kinda… snaps. hard.

“This is my fucking job, Y/N, would you rather I go back to baggage claim at the airport!?”

You get really angry, because Freddie just isn’t listening

all he’s doing is defending his own side

he straight up refuses to see things from your point of view.

It’s when you bitterly snap that Freddie’s cats are starting to mean more to you than he does

oh man, that’s when things go to hell

Brian and Roger had told you about various moments when it was an absolute shitshow in the studio

but now you knew what they meant, dear god

Freddie doesn’t throw things, no

as soon as he hears the snarky comment you made, he takes an arm and straight up knocks everything on the table onto the floor.

there’s a long, loud string of obscenities that are yelled as well.

you just want him to stop, but okay to be honest you’re angry too and Freddie’s childlike tantrum fit just made it worse

it’s a surprise that the neighbours don’t knock to ask if everything is okay, the both of you are screaming at each other so loudly.

but then you fall very quiet

and it scares the shit out of him

because he knows you aren’t kidding around anymore.

“I think it’s time for me to take a break.”

you’d only whisper that sentence but it horrifies Freddie a million times more than the mess of broken glass on the floor.

You don’t want to leave but you genuinely have to

because otherwise both of you would suffocate in this fire you started

so you let Freddie cool off in the house while you go to John’s place

and the entire time you were gone, Freddie would just sit on the floor and finally understand

everything would just kind of come to him in a rush and he’d realize just how big of an asshole he had been

and he would feel so heavy, so pathetic that he had lost control and lashed out like that.

[cloverhighfivewritestoo]

Bridge Over Troubled Water

👉 Read it on Ao3

Characters: Dean, Sam x any!Reader eventually, Castiel Summary: You might not be aware of it, but the boys noticed you’re not yourself and try their best to make you feel better. Warnings: mentions of depression, fluff Words: 4,874

A/N: This was written for @curly-haired-disaster​ sept. 2018 AKF Challenge [see here].

The first day, you woke up feeling like you hadn’t slept enough. You stayed in bed, hoping to fall back asleep, in vain. You got up a bit later than usual, and, after your morning routine, you went to the kitchen. You found Dean cleaning his guns, telling you Sam was out for a jog and that there was some leftover fruit salad in the fridge. You didn’t feel like eating much, so you just had a coffee. The day went by. You went to bed but couldn’t sleep.

The second day, you woke up late but so tired again. You wondered why you slept so bad. You shut the thought out of your head, got dressed with the clothes that were on the chair from yesterday, and went to the kitchen. When you entered, Sam and Dean looked up from their computers and stared at you.

“What?”, you said. “You got a serious case of bed hair,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows. “I think you just forgot to brush it,” Sam said. You scowled. “What are you? My dads?” Sam tried to explain. “It’s just because you usually brush your hair a little before coming for breakfast, that’s all.”

You frowned. You flattened your hair this way and that. You knew it was not helping, but why does Sam care anyway? You’ve been crashing here for a few months now, he’s seen you with bad hair. What’s his problem this morning? What, Mister Winchester wants you to always be pretty? You’re not pretty, you’re a hunter. Come to think of it, actually, could you really call yourself a hunter? You were not a very good shot, you didn’t run very fast, and you didn’t know half as much on lore and monsters as Sam. So why were they letting you live here anyway? You wanted to tell him to shove it, but you’d make him angry, you’d fight, he’d tell you you were always useless anyway, Dean would say it was Sam’s idea to let you come and live with them, and then the boys would tell you to pack and leave and you’d be out on your own again, on the road, without an address.

The boys were still staring. Dean asked you, “Are you alright?” You answered, “I know, my hair looks bad. Big deal.” The brothers looked at each other, utterly confused. Dean said, “It’s not about the hair. It’s… it’s…” Sam caught Dean’s train of thought, “It’s because it’s unusual. If you were in your pj’s, OK, but usually, when you’re dressed for the day… Anyway. It’s fine, we all have bad hair days.” Dean chuckled, “Not me! haha!” He turned to you and, looking at you, became serious again. “But, um, yeah. It’s alright. Forget it.” He shot a questioning look at Sam. All this concern about your appearance put you on edge. “What the fuck is it with the focus on my hair this morning? Don’t you have anything else to do?” Dean snapped back, “What? Hey, wo!” You knew it. You knew you’d fight. This is it, you thought, the beginning of the end. You saw Sam turn to Dean and, between clenched teeth, tell him “Dean, come on!” Dean gestured in your direction and said, “But…” Sam just sighed angrily at him, and, with a look, shut him up. Meanwhile, you hadn’t noticed, but your heart felt heavy and you were certain that, if you’d been alone right now, you’d cry. What is wrong with me, you asked yourself, staring blankly at the wall.

You got pulled out of your trance hearing Sam say “Hey, hey, hey!” as he got up and quickly got to you. You just had time to look up to see his open arms close in around you, and feel yourself lifted up like a doll, too immobile in your head to remember you’re supposed to put your arms around him too. He put you back down. “[Y/N],” he said as he took your hair out of your face and put his hands on your shoulders, “What’s going on? Did you have a nightmare or something? What’s going on?” Your brain didn’t seem to work. You looked into Sam’s eyes. The only thing you saw is their colour. Actually, their colours, plural. There was some gr- “[Y/N], What’s going on?” You blinked. The only echo in your mind was Dean snapping at you. “Why is Dean mean to me?” As you heard yourself say it, it sounded idiotic. You heard Dean right beside you – when did he get there? “Look, I’m sorry.” He put his hand on your shoulder. You turned to look at him. He seemed worried. “Come on, come sit. I’ll bring you coffee.”

You sat at the table, your brain still empty. Sam sat beside you, his body turned to face you. A coffee mug appeared in front of you. You looked at Dean’s hand, a strong, masculine, yet gentle hand, as he turned the mug so the handle was just right for you to pick the mug up. You didn’t touch it. You watched Dean sit and look at you. Your brain echoed that feeling you had that you were probably going to have to pack everything today because the boys would be done with you. It suddenly seemed very stupid. But you still felt it. You looked at Sam, then Dean, realized they looked genuinely confused and concerned. Of course they won’t kick you out. But you still felt it.

Then it hit you. It had been so long, you had happily forgotten about it, that fucking Beast of depression. Everything made sense now. The tiredness, the irrational moods, the anxiety, the certainty that things would go wrong, so certain you’d acted out on it and made things go exactly how you feared they’d go. Except, they didn’t. In all fairness, Dean didn’t really snap at you. It was more of a surprised response to your snapping at him. Sam had run to hug you. Dean had brought you coffee. You felt like shit for being so weird with them and yelling at them. You felt a surge of hate for the Beast – because, to you, it was a Beast. That thing messed up your judgement about everything.

“Kiddo?” Dean got you out of your head again. You chose to not tell the boys. You didn’t want their pity, you didn’t want them to try to fix you; it didn’t work that way. You made a show of letting out a big sigh. “Sorry guys,” you said, looking at the table, “I just really didn’t sleep well. I’m just super tired. I’m so sorry.” You looked up through your lashes. They seemed to have bought it. Sam pulled you in with a big hug. “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it. Bad nights happen.” This time, you remembered to put your arms around him. You knew it calmed the Beast. Sam smelled good, too. You gave him a little squeeze and you let him go. Dean asked you, “Hey, I can make you breakfast. What do you want?” “Um, I’ll stick to my coffee for now. Maybe when I’ll be awake, I’ll be hungry.” “Fine by me. Just say the word when you’re ready.” You actually smiled. “Alright. Thanks.” You glanced at Sam as you were taking a sip of your coffee and he smiled and winked at you, and patted your shoulder before turning back to his laptop.

During the day, you all did some research in the lore for the current case. You listened to the boy’s conversations. You declined Dean’s invitation to clock some shooting time in the range in favour of a nap. The nap didn’t happen, but you had found fics on tumblr about Thor and Loki. Some of them were pretty funny; some of them got your mind busy with interesting images. Man, they’re brothers! What the… Anyway.

You heard a little knock on your door. “Come in!” The door cracked open and Sam asked, “Dean wants to know what you want for dinner. He’s going to head out for groceries.” Uh, that was new. Dean always just bought the food and winged it. Sure, sometimes, he’d ask if you or Sam wanted something in particular, but not for a whole meal. You were all used to eating what’s available. Dean also knew pretty much what everyone liked, so it all worked out anyway. “[Y/N]?” “Oh, sorry. Um, seriously, I have no idea.” Sam chuckled. “Yeah, me neither. We’ll end up with burgers and pizza again if we don’t come up with something.” You shook your head. “I’m really sorry, I really have no idea.” Sam hung on the doorknob. “I don’t know… Maybe something you haven’t had in ages? Maybe something your mom used to make?” Uh, something your mom made that you liked… “Oh, I know! But it’s a bit strange.” Sam gestured for you to continue, “hey, strange is our life!” “Haha… Yes. It’s spaghetti, no sauce, but with butter, and with corndogs on it.” Sam’s brows furrowed. “Corndogs.” You laughed. “Cut in slices and grilled in a pan. Plus, a ton of cheese, and the whole thing put to broil in the oven.” Sam’s eyes widened. “My god…” “I know. Starch, salt and fat heaven. Sorry Sam, no veggies allowed. Haha!” Sam shook his head as if he tried to shake the idea of that dinner off. He raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough. Starch, salt and fat heaven for dinner tonight!” You flashed him a smile as he closed the door.“

Corndoghetti? You even gave it a name?” Dean exclaimed, as he put your plate in front of you. “That’s awesome!” “Thanks!” you said, laughing, as you took your fork to attack the humongous plate Dean had made for you. “Seriously, Dean, you think I’m going to eat all that?” He pointed at the plate and looked at you. “Kiddo, you ate next to nothing for the last two days, so do yourself a favour. Eat.” “Alright, alright.” Dean had a knack for cooking and he had managed to make this ridiculous thing taste even better than you remembered. It was also fun to eat, that big pile of noodles glued in a glop by the melted cheese. As you battled with your food, you looked up to see if the boys liked it too. Dean seemed to be in the same heaven as you, and Sam seemed to enjoy himself too. In the end, you managed to eat half the plate. Dean seemed content with that.

Dean sat back against the wall, patted his tummy. “Man, that was surprisingly good.” You smiled and turned to Sam. He smiled, “Yeah. Not too often, but yeah, once in a while… Yeah. It’s oddly satisfying.” Dean turned to Sam, offended. “Oddly? I think you mean ‘Super’.” That made you giggle.

Dean changed the subject. “Hey kiddo, while you were slacking off this afternoon, we got intel on where to get the crystal we need. It’s a bit far, so we’re leaving at 7 sharp. We’re gonna pack our gear tonight.” Just thinking about getting up early for a big day of sitting in the car, fighting people or monsters, escape, drive back… you were exhausted. “I think I’m gonna pass.” Dean was surprised. “What? Why?” “I’m too tired. If I go with you, I’m going to be a liability. I’d rather stay here.” The boys looked at each other. Sam said, “You’re sure?” “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll take the day off, try to rest.” The boys looked at each other again. You knew they were understanding each other about something. “What? I see you, guys. What is it?” Sam said, “Nothing. We thought you’d like a change of scenery. Plus, you never stay back.” You probably looked like you were about to argue, because he quickly added, “No, but it’s fine. You need to rest, so stay. It’s OK.”

You went to your room since the boys were busy packing their gear. It didn’t take long before you heard a knock on your door. “Come in!” It was Dean. “Hey there,” he said. “Heyyy. Oh, thanks again for the corndoghetti. It was just… mmmmmm!” “Oh, thank you. I’m going to make that again. Maybe not this week, but sometime.” “You’re welcome.” Dean leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms and stuck his chin out at you. “Wanted to know, how do you feel about a movie?” You answered, surprised, “You… You’re done packing?” Dean laughed softly. “Sweetheart, how long do you think I’ve been doing this job? I’m packed, it took me 10 minutes.” “Oh. Um…” Dean walked the 3 paces from the door to you. He extended his hand. “Actually, I just decided that your answer is yes. Come on.” “Come on where?” “To my room. I have a bigger TV than yours.” “And Sam?” “He’s waxing his buttcrack.” You frowned, suspicious. “Really?” Dean threw his arms in the air. “I don’t know. And quite frankly, I don’t want to know.” He shook his arm at you, his hand extended again. “Come on.”

Usually, when you watched a movie with Dean, he insisted you get comfortable on the bed, him taking a chair, putting his feet up on the bed. But not this time. This time, he told you to scoot over and he sat right next to you. Seeing you take your distance to give him space, he objected. “No, no, stay close. If you fall asleep, I don’t want you to fall off the bed. Stay here.” You were surprised, but it was so sweet of him. You got back next to him. He started the movie, some lighthearted comedy. Funny enough to keep your mind busy – which was good – but light enough you soon felt groggy and you lay your head on Dean’s shoulder. He whispered a little “hey…” and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in. You kind of smooched yourself in a little bundle against him. He gave you a little kiss on the head. He was warm. His breathing was deep and even. Your eyelids got heavier. You felt him move when he chuckled.

Next thing you knew, the silence woke you up. You took a deep breath, unbundled yourself from under Dean’s arm and sat up. Dean spoke softly. “Hey, you can sleep here. I’ll take another room.” You rubbed your eyes. “No, it’s fine. It’s just 2 doors down. Thanks.” You got up and walked to your room. By the time you had changed into your pj’s, you were somewhat awake. You had a hard time falling back asleep.

You woke up the next day to a silent bunker. You checked the time. 8:30. You kind of remembered sleeping through a bit of noise earlier. The boys were gone to get the crystal.

Having the bunker to yourself felt a bit like being more free than usual. For example, you realized you could take the longest shower and no one would complain about needing the bathroom nor that there’s no more hot water left. You also didn’t need to worry about carrying – or forgetting – your clothes to the bathroom. You liked this.

You stripped, went to the bathroom naked, and got the water running. You rummaged through Sam’s hair products and chose the most perfect combination of scents. You took your time and even gave your feet a good scrub job. You washed your hair and put some conditioner that needed to be left in five minutes. It stayed in 15 minutes. The scents were soothing. When you finally had enough, the shower was so misty it was like breathing a cloud.

As you walked back to your room, you heard a voice behind you. “Hello, [Y/N].” You jumped, almost slipped, screamed and covered yourself the best you could before you realized it was Cas. “Good lord, Cas! You scared me!” “Oh, I’m sorry. Why are you naked?” “I just got out of the shower!” “But you don’t usually walk around naked.” “Well, the bunker was supposed to be empty!” “Oh.” “Why am I… I’m going to get dressed now.” “OK. I’ll be in the library.” “Alright.”

When you got to the library, Castiel was reading a book in Enochian. “The amount of grammar mistakes indicates this is a poor translation.” You stopped short. “A translation… into Enochian?” Castiel looked up from his book and closed it. “Yes.” You wondered why the angels would need something translated into their language, but you had a more pressing question. “So, Cas, nice to see you, but why are you here? Cause the boys aren’t here, so…” “I came to see you.” “Why?” “Because I hadn’t seen you in a while. I like spending time with you.” You squinted at Cas. And it dawned on you. The boys knew you were a bit off these days. They had called Cas to make sure you wouldn’t spend the day alone.“

Cas?” “Yes, [Y/N]?” “How much exactly are the boys worried about me?” Castiel’s eyes widened, and he looked at the book in his hands. “What? They’re not… Um, I don’t know.” You walked to Castiel, took the book out of his hands, put in on the table. “Cas, it’s alright, you can tell me. It’s clear they sent you to babysit me.” “That’s not what they said. And you’re a grown human. You do not require babysitting.” You laughed a little. “Cas. Seriously. Tell me.” He looked at you like a puppy caught doing something wrong. “They said you seemed quieter than usual and you might need some company. They asked me to come and spend the day with you.” You decided to tease him a little. “So you didn’t come because you wanted to see me. You came because you had to.” The look of confusion and disbelief on his face was priceless. Fishing for compliments with Cas was so easy. “Why would you say that? I always love spending time with you!” You patted his shoulder. “It’s alright, I’m just teasing you.” “But it’s true.” “I know, I know. Love you too, Cas.”

“So, Cas, what are we going to do today?” “I don’t know. I saw a fair on my way here. People seem to enjoy themselves at fairs.” So you went to the fair. Castiel agreed to go on every ride, insisting on going on the rides you were unsure about. He explained he found it fascinating how humans devised ways to trick gravity in order to give the body sensations. He wanted to try them all. It was hilarious to see Castiel sitting stoic on every ride, studying its workings. He assured you he enjoyed himself. After lunch – Castiel didn’t let you forget to eat – you tried your hand at winning a plushie, but, being a so-so shot, wasted quite a bit of money. “I’m bad at this,” you told Castiel, after losing at the 6th stand. Castiel asked, “Which stuffed animal did you want?” You pointed, pouting, at a giant Toothless. “That black dragon with green eyes, there.” Castiel gave money to the man at the stand. He took the balls and threw them all exactly in the right spot. The man congratulated Castiel. “You’re very good, sir! You can have one big plushie or 3 little ones.” Your eyes sparkled. “Really?” “Yes miss. I believe you’re the one choosing. Just tell me which.” You chose a small Toothless for yourself, a Batman for Dean and a cute little monster for Sam. You were beaming like a child. “Thanks, Cas.” “Anytime, [Y/N].” For the rest of the afternoon, you walked around the fair and redid a few rides again. Before leaving, you bought a big pretzel for Dean.

Back at the bunker, the boys were in the war room, checking out the crystal they’d just fetched. As you descended the staircase with Castiel, they were all smiles. “Hey, look who’s back!” said Dean, as he walked up and hugged you. He gave Castiel a pat on the back. “So what did you do?” Castiel answered, “We went to the fair.” “The fair?” He looked at you. “OH! Is that a pretzel?” “Yes, I got it for you.” “Oh YES!” He took the pretzel and started on it. Sam walked up to you and hugged you too – a little longer than Dean. “You had a good time?” “Yes, and I brought you presents.” Dean beamed. His mouth was full of pretzel. “Presents?!” You laughed. “Yeah, it’s just stupid little things.” You handed out the little monster for Sam, who grinned and said thanks. You showed your dragon, Dean pointed at it and did a thumbs up. You fetched out Dean’s – “Batman!!! Haha!” he exclaimed, and he snatched it from you.

Sam, Castiel and you all stared at Dean. “What?” he said. You shook your head. “Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to overdo it.” “Overdo what?” “The excitement. I know you boys don’t care about plushies. I just thought it was funny.” Dean gestured with the pretzel. “This is awesome, though.” “Yes. But it’s fine. The Batman is just a joke.” You turned to Sam. “The monster too. You can use the plushies in the shooting range, if you want. It was just for the fun of it.” Sam smiled, looking at his monster, turning it in his hands. Dean looked at his Batman and at you. He looked at his Batman again. “Yeah. Even if Batman is cool… Yeah. Well, maybe.”

You all sat at the war room table for dinner. The boys had gotten pizza. They discussed the case, told about their day. Castiel told about the intricate ways rides made your stomach churn. You sipped your beer. The conversation trailed off into silence. You sipped your beer.

Dean, sitting in front of you, gestured his beer at you. “OK, [Y/N], talk to us.” “What?” “Look. We know, you know, Cas knows, we all know you know we know… Come on, you can talk to us.” “And tell you what?” “Tell us what we can do. Something’s eating you. You can tell us what it is. We’ll figure it out. We’ll help you.” You really didn’t see that coming. “What?” Sam took over. “Look, we’ve noticed you’re a bit zoned out. You usually have an angle for a case, an idea, or, at least, you play devil’s advocate. You always challenge our theories, you help us. All the time. But these days, you seemed… lost in your thoughts.” You looked at the three men waiting for you to tell them what was going on. They were way too observant; you resigned yourself. “I guess… Look, Dean, it’s not a ‘thing’. You can’t ‘figure it out’. It’s just a wave of depression, it’s fine, I’m used to it, I know how to ride it out.” Everyone looked at you, thinking. Castiel said, “Can I cure it?” “Sorry, Cas, I don’t think so. It comes and goes. It’s a weird thing.” Dean insisted, “Surely, we can help, do something.” You shook your head. “Actually, you’re already doing it. You’re kind and caring, yet still normal. Tricking me into telling you my ultimate comfort food? And making it for me? That was good.” You looked at Dean, Castiel, Sam. “Really, guys, you don’t have to worry.” Sam put his hand on your arm and squeezed. “But we do anyway. You’re family.” You put your hand on his. “Thanks. But I’m better now. I’ll be fine. Promise.” Sam let his hand on your arm, looking you in the eyes. He smiled and let you go.

Everyone called it a night soon after dinner and went to their respective bedrooms. Castiel left for who knows where he goes when he leaves. You changed in your pj’s, something long and soft. You put your little dragon on the night table, turned off the light, got under the sheets. You stared at the ceiling and knew this was not going to help you. You thought, I need a distraction. Not your phone, because the light will keep you up even longer. In fact, you didn’t feel like doing anything. But you couldn’t keep staring at the ceiling, that much you knew. Sam’s face popped in your head. Yeah, you thought, I think Sam might agree to me hanging out in his room, doing nothing. That’s better than staying here, doing nothing. Alright, let’s try that.

You knocked on his door. “Sam, it’s me. Can I come in?” You heard him say “Of course” from inside. You opened the door. The first thing that caught your eye was the plushie monster sitting on the bedside table. Sam was lounging on his bed, reading a book. You caught your breath. It was like you were seeing him for the first time. His hair framed his face perfectly, drawing your attention to his jaw. “What’s up, [Y/N]?” His expression was the softest. You remembered why you came. “Can I just… hang out here with you? I don’t feel like being alone in my room right now.” “Of course,” he said, as he scooted on the bed and patted it, inviting you to sit beside him. “Do you want to talk about something? Watch a movie? Read a book, maybe? I have a few here you might like.” You looked at his hands. The book he was holding seemed so small in them. “No… I don’t want to do nothing… Just be here. You can keep on reading your book, I’ll just… be here. Is that ok with you?” “Sure, no problem.” You sat next to him. He turned back to his reading. For a few pages, you just stared at the book, thinking about nothing. Then, you got to looking at his hands again. His long legs. His big feet. He seemed so strong. Without knowing it, you found yourself leaning against him, getting your head comfortable against his shoulder. Sam rubbed your head with his cheek, still reading. You found a deep interest in a crease in his jeans. Sam’s breathing was like the slow, calming waves of a quiet sea.

“I’m sorry,” you said, out of nowhere. Sam rubbed your head with his cheek as he said softly, “Why do you say that?” “Because I’m not a very good hunter.” Sam let his book fall on his lap. “Nonsense. Why do you say that?” “Because I can’t shoot a gun like you do. Seems to me it’s important.” “But it’s not what makes a hunter. Sure, it helps, but in the end, it’s finding the right information and finding the right monster that counts. You’re good at helping with that. Hunting is a team effort. We all have strengths. Mine are different than Dean’s, and different than yours. Nobody has every talent, that’s why we’re stronger together. And, in case no one told you, you’re badass at close combat. You’re quick, strong and sneaky. It’s a real delight to see you beat up the bad guys. Sometimes I wish I could stop in the middle of a fight just to watch you.” You both said nothing for a moment, thinking about recent battles. Sam said, a little under his breath, “My god… You’re amazing.”

You backed away ever so slightly to look at Sam. You couldn’t help but try and count the colours in his eyes. Green, blue, hazel… Figure out how they merged and yet were well defined. Sam held your gaze as he passed his arm around you. He whispered, “You’re amazing.” You saw his eyes trail down to your lips and back again into your eyes. He pulled you closer and kissed you on the forehead, a long, immobile kiss, as he wrapped his other arm around you. You closed your eyes. He smelled so good, he was so warm. You wrapped your arms around him, under his flannel. You felt his hands grip you tighter.

You leaned back a little to look at him again, your hand coming back on his abs. He put a hand on your face, traced little circles on your cheek with his thumb. He whispered again, “You’re amazing,” and he came in slowly, giving you a soft kiss, closing his eyes, resting his forehead on yours. You kissed him back, a long, lingering kiss. You waited for your heartbeats to slow down a little. Sam said, eyes still closed, “Do you want to spend the night here? To sleep, I mean.” You said yes.

Sam gave you another kiss on your forehead, got up, stripped to his boxers and t-shirt, turned off the light, and came back to you. You both got under the sheets and you nestled into him, your nose in the crook of his neck. Your whole universe became Sam scented. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He rested his head against yours. His deep, slow breathing contrasted with his heartbeat. You squeezed him tighter. Soon his warmth made you sleepy and you felt yourself slipping away. You heard a whisper. “Goodnight, [Y/N].” You mumbled something. You felt a kiss on your head, a thumb stroking your arm. Your heart felt full as you fell asleep.

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[qqueenofhades]

the tangled web of fate we weave: xi

because i literally can.not stand to work on my damn dissertation any more so... here we are. this chapter is close to 12k because i have no self control.

tumblr’s formatting still sucks and is a dumb so yes, carry on.

part x/AO3.

Wyatt Logan learns he is in trouble the way most busted husbands learn they are in trouble: his phone starts buzzing up a storm, falls off the side table, and when he gropes at it and picks it up, the first three words he sees are “Jess cell” and “TALK.” This is a combination to strike terror into any unsuspecting man’s heart, especially when he’s not quite certain what he did – what else, that is. He’s been in San Francisco for the last several days, he didn’t come home on Sunday like he promised, but he had a nice floral arrangement sent as an apology, and he’s gotten weirdly involved in this Rittenhouse hunt. For instance, he’s pretty sure that Bam-Bam’s dad is in it. Whether Bam-Bam knows about that is another question, as he seemed genuinely blank on it and Wyatt has known him long enough to be sure that he’s not that good a liar. But this means that there’s an operative in Rick Baumgardner’s swanky, high-powered law firm, and the operative’s son in Delta Force, which fits with the emerging pattern that Wyatt is discovering. Tons of important and well-connected people, embedded in just about every relevant government and military department – not necessarily pulling strings, but those strings aren’t far away if they feel like venturing a tug. Wyatt thought Flynn was crazy (frankly, the jury’s still out) but he’s not making this up. This is serious.

Wyatt’s valiant detective work, however, is currently of secondary importance. Still bleary-eyed, he swipes at his phone, then stares as a photo pops up in a text message. It’s him, out to dinner on Saturday night with Emma Whitmore, at the exact moment he was leaning in to hear her better. Unfortunately, from the angle of whatever vigilante mystery diner snapped the photo, it looks an awful lot like he’s leaning in for a kiss. He can almost, therefore, understand the string of angry texts from his wife. She sent the first one six hours ago. Uh-oh.

Sleepiness evaporated, Wyatt sits bolt upright and hits Call. He sags back against the hotel pillows as it rings, running a hand over his sandy stubble and cursing. He probably should have seen this coming, but – how did someone just happen to get hold of that picture and Jessica’s number, was there some old school friend who recognized him and decided to get the lowdown on the garden-variety dirtbag husband – but that’s not Wyatt, that’s not what happened, that’s not –

“Hello?”

Wyatt winces. It’s Jessica, and she definitely saw the caller ID. “Hey. Uh. You have a minute?”

“Do I have a minute? I’m the one who’s been texting you for six hours! By definition, I have had three hundred and sixty minutes! How about you, Wyatt? You have a minute to tell me what’s going on? Now that’s a question.”

“Jess, just – it’s not what it looks like, it was a business dinner. You don’t have to get so – ”

“Wow, so it’s the not what it looks like and women, so emotional! cards right out of the gate?” Jessica sounds even angrier. “Want to just go for the nothing happened, I swear and make it a trifecta?”

“Nothing did happen, it’s not – Jess, just let me explain, it – ”

“You stand there glaring and harrumphing whenever I talk to any guy – including my boss, that one time – and all of a sudden, I’m the irrational one when, after weeks of you vanishing and ducking out the back door, I get a mysterious text with a picture of you practically jumping down some glam redhead’s throat? If there – if there was someone you met overseas, and now you’re trying to keep it up now that you’re home, Wyatt, just – ”

“Jess! Jessica! I’m not cheating on you, Jesus!” Despite the fact that this is the truth, Wyatt is aware of a small voice in the back of his head, which is yelling, YOU BLOWING IT, SON. Getting angry is not his prerogative in this situation; it does look bad. “I told you, it’s for the investigation, her name’s Emma. It was just to – ”

“Yes,” Jessica says. “The investigation? The one you assured me you were still on? So I’m guessing you have another dazzling explanation for why Pendleton called the house yesterday and wanted to know where you were, since you got reassigned three weeks ago?”

Son of a bitch. Wyatt should likewise have seen that coming, but he figured they’d call him on his cell first. He has done the usual check-ins, but he hasn’t told them what he’s doing, and he may have missed the last several days, since he doesn’t think it’s a great idea to go straight from investigating a shady cult to waving beacons at the government. “Look, I – fine, some parts of it are. . . it’s complicated, but I swear, I swear, nothing happened. It was not a date. She was asking me about another guy, she wanted his number. She’s trying to get out of a bad situation, I wanted to help. That is the whole story.”

Once again, he can hear Jessica breathing but not answering, taking her time about it. Finally she says, “I’m not even sure I care at this point, honestly. We have barely had a real marriage in – who knows how long. Since at least the last deployment. I don’t want to be that nagging wife insisting you stay at home, but God, Wyatt. I’ve given you the world’s longest leash, a favor you have not returned, and you just keep lying, you keep dodging out, you – ” Her voice breaks, and she stops. He can hear her gulping, hand over her face.

Wyatt sits there feeling about two inches tall. He can’t even physically comfort her, if that was a thing she wanted right now, and he’s known all along that he was fucking this up, but kept justifying it in the name of the bigger picture. Which is not entirely inaccurate; Rittenhouse does seem to be a genuine threat. But the demands of the job, however valid, don’t always cover your ass when you’ve comprehensively fornicated the canine in the way he has, whether or not he meant to. He needs to get over himself, get off this case, and take a goddamn breath, before he hurts Jess any more. Platitudes and floral arrangements aren’t going to cut it. He needs to get home, or the next thing on the docket for them is divorce papers, and frankly, he’d probably deserve it.

“Listen,” Wyatt says at last. “I’m going to swing by Mason Industries and find Emma and see if I can get an explanation for this. Then I’m coming home right away. It’s a drive, I can’t get there immediately, but I should be back by tonight. You hear me? I promise.”

“Yeah.” Jessica sounds unutterably weary. “You’ve promised a lot, Wyatt. I suppose we’ll see if that extends to you turning up. I’ll leave dinner on. Surprise me.”

And with that, she hangs up.

Wyatt stares at the phone in his hand for a long moment, hoping he’ll feel better. He doesn’t. At last, he tosses it onto the nightstand and gets out of bed, heads to the bathroom, and bumbles through a half-assed shower. Wants to shave so he doesn’t look like a total mug, but doesn’t know if it’s the greatest idea to have something sharp near his throat, even (or especially) a Gillette three-blade Super Turbo Macho thing that Jessica bought him last Christmas. Mostly as a gag gift, but Wyatt likes it, all right. He finally manages a cursory scrape, only nicks himself twice, and dabs it off with toilet paper. Feels like the kid who ran away from home before he was old enough to properly shave, doing it for the first time in a dank truck stop bathroom that reeked of piss – but he’s fine. He’s not gonna spiral. He’s fine.

Wyatt pulls on his least wrinkled clothes and heads out. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Emma when he finds her – she has no more control over the fact that someone snapped an apparently compromising photo than he does – but obviously, he is not thick enough to think it’s coincidence. Rittenhouse might still have someone on her, watching her closely, keeping an eye out for any attempts at desertion or making contact with an outside source. Was that a warning, the proverbial horse head in the bed, and the next time, Emma goes sleeping with the fishes? If nothing else, Wyatt needs to warn her.

He pulls into the parking lot at Mason Industries and talks himself inside with only a little extra effort. Asking for Emma Whitmore, however, he is told that she is not there. She didn’t come into work on Monday, and hasn’t been in for the rest of the week. There was some sort of notice. Personal time, or family emergency. Very sorry, that’s all we know.

Wyatt barely restrains himself from hitting the counter in frustration. It is mildly comforting to hear that Emma took the initiative in disappearing (at least that’s what it sounds like) rather than waiting around to be nabbed, but it still leaves him with no clue about where that is or why, or how that picture came to exist. Or is it all just some giant –

Right then, before Wyatt can entirely finish the thought or remember what it was going to be, the glass hall doors swish open, and Rufus The Tech Nerd makes his reappearance. He’s juggling a stack of papers that look to be covered in complicated mathematical gibberish (Wyatt failed ninth-grade algebra, don’t look at him) and muttering to himself, but he screeches to a halt when he sees Wyatt. “Wait. You again?”

“Yeah. Me.” Might as well own it, Wyatt thinks grimly. “We still haven’t actually properly met. My name’s Wyatt Logan.”

“Rufus Carlin.” Rufus shifts his armload of papers enough to free up a hand for a shake, which he offers politely, but still guardedly. Given what’s been going on around this place recently, Wyatt doesn’t blame him. “You here to interrogate Connor again?”

“No, actually, I’m not. That coworker of yours I met the other day, the two of you were running some kind of tests. Emma, Emma Whitmore. I need to talk to her.”

Rufus blinks. “Emma? She – ”

“Hasn’t been in? Yeah, I heard.”

“So you always just turn up at high-tech labs planning to go through the whole workforce for answers, is that it?” Rufus doesn’t look impressed. “Emma and I work together, but we’re not buddy-buddy, I can’t tell you where she is. I did hear someone talking about it, they just said that she was gone and it was important. So?”

Wyatt supposes that technically, this is understandable. He did give Emma Flynn’s phone number and tell her to talk to him, and if she’s jetted off in hopes of doing that, she might not know about the picture situation anyway. He could actually call Flynn, but can’t quite summon up the desire to do that. Instead he says, “Okay, all right. But you don’t have just a few seconds, do you? To talk?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Rufus shoots back. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Belatedly, Wyatt realizes that a white lawman coming in here and throwing his weight around, even more or less politely, to a black scientist isn’t a good look, as if he thinks that Rufus – despite his clearly staggering intellect and well-paid tech job – is just another “hoodie kid” he can lord it over with impunity. “Hey,” he says, more humbly. “There’s just some weird shit going down recently, I’ve kind of gotten mixed up in it, and once I get some things straight, I will disappear and never darken your doorstep again. Okay?”

Rufus eyes him as if to say that he holds probably multiple PhDs, Wyatt does not need to dumb it down for him, but finally shrugs, indicating the papers. “I was just on my way out to bring these over to the guy who’s taking them to the JPL. So this isn’t a – ”

“Where are you headed?” Wyatt asks. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“And I really think it’s a great idea to get into a car with you?”

“Fair. But I – ” Wyatt struggles to think of one genuinely decent reason that Rufus, in fact, should. “It’ll save you gas money?”

Rufus almost looks amused, despite himself. Then finally, he shrugs. “The office is in San Jose,” he says. “Just a second, let me tell someone where I’m going and who I’m going with, in case I don’t come back.”

Wyatt raises an eyebrow, but wisely holds his tongue as Rufus goes off, then returns a few minutes later, tucking something into his pocket. “Fine. Let’s go. If you’re going to kill me, at least don’t play Motley Crue. Or Kid Rock. I’m not dying listening to that.”

“I’m not going to kill you, honestly.” Wyatt leads the way out to the parking lot and hits the clicker to unlock his truck, momentarily hoping that nobody has planted a pipe bomb under it while he was inside. It wasn’t that long, but it feels like that kind of day. Hoping to make friendly small talk, he adds, “These are going to the JPL?”

“Jet Propulsion Laboratory,” Rufus says. “In Pasadena. They do a lot of work for NASA. Us too.” He shrugs. “The Star Wars nerd in me still has a tiny inner meltdown coming to work every day, and I’ve had this job since I graduated from MIT.”

“Nice.” Wyatt glances at him; Rufus can’t be much older than he is. Maybe even a year younger. “I’m guessing you finished high school when you were what, fifteen?”

“Fourteen.” Rufus can’t quite keep the tinge of pride out of his voice. “Then computational science and engineering, and physics, all the way through. I’ve worked here for two years, but I’ve known Connor since I was in middle school. I owe him a lot.”

That’s clearly a veiled warning that he’s not going to be induced to turn on his boss, if Wyatt was thinking of squeezing him for more information. Wyatt’s not, though he is feeling decidedly intellectually outclassed. Technically, he’s not a high school dropout – he did his GED when he was twenty-one, and took a few classes at community college between postings. Plus he’s trained as an Army language specialist; he speaks four (Spanish, German, Urdu, and he can just about scrape by in Arabic). That, however, is definitely not on the same level, but he starts the truck and pulls out without anything exploding. Following Rufus’s instructions, he heads for 101 and merges onto the highway.

They’ve been driving for about ten minutes when Wyatt becomes increasingly aware that the black car two or three lengths behind them has taken every turn they have. That is not terribly suspicious – this is a major thoroughfare, and it’s Silicon Valley, black cars are everywhere – but Wyatt, for obvious reasons, is sensitive to the possibility of being followed. Just to be sure, he makes a few quick lane changes, cutting deftly in and out of the heavy flow of midmorning traffic. A pause, then the black car makes them too.

Wyatt’s pulse starts to pick up. This is obviously no place for a car chase, in the middle of a throng of civilian commuters, but he also doesn’t want to keep tooling on as if he hasn’t noticed anything. He keeps an eye on the freeway exits, speeds up, and throws them into a small break in traffic, abrupt enough to catch them both against their seatbelts. Been a while since he had to really bust out some moves. That is definitely a bad thing, not a good one.

“Dude!” Rufus yelps, as they take the exit ramp a great deal faster than recommended. “What the hell are you doing? It’s not for another three exits, and all of a sudden, I’m riding shotgun with Vin Diesel? I knew this was a bad idea!”

“Sorry,” Wyatt says tensely. “There’s some guys tailing us.”

Rufus twists around in his seat as if to look, but the black car has, for the moment, vanished. Or maybe it hasn’t; Wyatt didn’t get a good look at the license plate, after all, and there are several black cars presently behind them. He switches sharply out of a stalled queue at the off-ramp traffic light, gets honked at, and accelerates into the right lane. Fuck. He’s pretty sure that one there, coming down the pike, is their pursuers, and nips through a very dark yellow turn arrow, but not entirely fast enough to avoid notice. The mystery car is solidly in his rearview mirror, and a nice suburban avenue, with traffic lights at every intersection, is an even worse place for high-speed vehicular escapades. Shit. Maybe he bailed on the highway too soon.

Nonetheless, Wyatt Logan is a man of action, and this is the action in front of him. As Rufus grabs onto his seat with both hands and squeaks something that sounds like, “What the fuck,” they peel down Scott Boulevard, adroitly dodge a car coming out of a hidden drive, and push it as close as they can with the lights without outright running them. Wyatt can’t help the surge of adrenaline that pulses through him, almost tempted to whoop, though he’s very sure Rufus would not appreciate it. And if some yuppie in a Prius calls the cops to report some tool in a truck driving like, well, a tool, he will shortly not be in a whooping mood.

It takes a few more minutes of pretty fancy driving (if Wyatt says so himself) but they finally take several turns without the car reappearing. He’s pretty sure he can get into San Jose from here, even if Rufus is loosening his grip one finger at a time. Again he says, “The hell?”

“Sorry. I – used to drive a lot.”

“That’s not even what I meant. We just drag-raced through Santa Clara, and you’re – ”

“Look,” Wyatt says, finally daring to take his attention off the road for more than two seconds. “I told you there was some shit going down, remember?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize that was the car-chase kind of shit!” Rufus glances edgily over his shoulder again. “How about you drop me off in San Jose, and I’ll just. . . call someone at the lab for a ride back to work, huh?”

Wyatt has to admit that he would probably want to do the same thing in Rufus’ position. There is not much talk for the next few minutes as he finds his way to the generic office complex where Rufus is dropping off the papers, turns in, and parks. As they pop their seatbelts with some relief, Wyatt says, “Hey, I’ll walk you in, all right? Just in case.”

Rufus opens his mouth, considers, apparently decides it can’t hurt, and nods, if grudgingly. They get out, enter the complex, and head upstairs, where Rufus finds where he’s supposed to go, dispatches the papers, and chats briefly with his JPL contact before they leave. It’s all very science-y and incomprehensible to Wyatt, but he can tell that Rufus lights up around it the way Wyatt himself does around cars, and has a moment of wishing they could be friends, despite the awkwardness of the situation. He doesn’t have any who aren’t also old squad mates, and it’s been a long time since he’s seen most of them. Don’t really keep in touch when they aren’t on deployment. You trust the guy in the foxhole next to you, but you don’t always kick back and order pizza and do the dude equivalent of braiding each other’s hair, either. And in a branch of the service like Delta Force, your buddies are a lot more ephemeral than jarheads who’ve been in the same platoon since the Flood. They get reassigned, they take different postings, they die. A lot of the time, you never even know.

Wyatt shakes his head, reminds himself that he still needs to get this over with and go home to his well-deserved chewing out from Jess. He offers to walk Rufus back and wait with him until his ride arrives, though he’s not sure if this is counterproductive in terms of getting Rufus away from him. Or if it’s just a question of –

They emerge into the parking lot, and stop short.

The black car that Wyatt was congratulating himself on escaping is parked next to his truck, and several men in suits are leaning against it. Two of them are clearly security, built like linebackers, and the third looks like the genial silver-haired man in prostate medication ads. (Wyatt just feels that’s how anyone would describe him.) He glances at them, still frozen in their tracks, and smiles. “That was some very impressive driving earlier, Mr. Logan.”

If there is a creepier way in all of existence to open a conversation, Wyatt doesn’t want to hear it. He has automatically reached into his jacket for his gun, but if he pulls it out, Thing 1 and Thing 2 are going to do the same, and that can’t go well. “I’m sorry, and you are. . .?”

“Cahill,” Prostate Medication Man says. “My name’s Cahill. Hello, Rufus.”

Rufus opens and shuts his mouth, throwing Wyatt a deeply betrayed look. Wyatt mouths I’m not with them, which he hoped was obvious from the Fast-and-Furiousing it, but he can’t blame Rufus for a little confusion. He has a very bad feeling that he knows exactly where they are from, but he takes half a sideways step toward Rufus, preparing to shield him if necessary. It’s only the fair thing. Rufus would not be in this situation (or would he?) if not of Wyatt, and he’s not going to let Rufus’s pessimistic (but possibly accurate) predictions of getting murdered come to pass. This is ridiculous.

That, however, does not have any bearing on whether or not it’s happening, and Rufus looks shaken and afraid. “Mr. – Mr. Cahill, sir. I work at Mason Industries, you can phone Connor Mason right now and he’ll send someone to prove it, I’ll give you his – ”

Cahill waves a hand. “Of course you work at Mason Industries. That’s why I’m here. You see, Rufus, I just need to make sure. Did you hand off those equations exactly as you received them, no alterations, no deletions? You – ” he glances at Wyatt – “you didn’t attempt to change or interfere with them in any way?”

“What the hell? No, I gave Rufus a ride over, I didn’t – ”

“You went to some effort to shake us, though.”

“I’m a soldier. I have that reaction when someone starts tailing me.”

“You’re an employee of the federal government, Mr. Logan. So are we.” Cahill spreads his hands in what is clearly supposed to be a why-don’t-you-trust-me-man kind of way. “Unless you’ve also decided, like certain others, that your obligations are flexible?”

That definitely sounds like a trap, and Wyatt is quiet as he tries to think how to answer. Rufus clearly doesn’t dare to sass these clowns – being a little fresh with Wyatt in the safety of Mason Industries is one thing, but every black man knows what happens if you so much as look at an armed white man wrong, and even Wyatt feels half-intimidated, which doesn’t (or isn’t supposed to) happen. He obviously doesn’t want to bring up Emma in front of them, but it seems more than clear that they (and their friends) are the ones she wants to get away from. There’s a very awkward silence as they eye each other. Then Cahill says, “If that’s all the case, clearly you won’t mind me running up and checking that the calculations were submitted correctly. Rufus, we’ll give you a ride back to Mason Industries, so just – ”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Rufus says. “But I’d actually prefer to ride with Ranger Rick.”

Cahill smiles patronizingly. “Good to know you’re getting along – but I’d be careful of how much you do going forward.  You’re a smart young man with a bright future, Rufus. Don’t mess that up. Oh, and Mr. Logan. While I go up, I think my associates want to have a quick word. It shouldn’t take too long. Gentlemen?”

As Wyatt instantly prepares for being jumped, hesitates a split second too long in deciding whether to go for his gun – it’s a suburban office park, there are civilians everywhere, he can’t just let loose – the meatheads step forward, take firm hold of either arm, and escort him into the car, where he is immured on the patent leather seat. After that, with barely the preliminary of offering him a drink (which Wyatt is not a total moron and thus does not take) they do in fact proceed to have a chat. It’s a terrifying chat, but still. The gist of it is that they’re sure he’s a nice boy and nobody wants to make this difficult. He is going to go back to San Diego, make no report of this to anyone in Pendleton, and take up whatever ordinary new assignment they have for him. He is not to attempt to make contact with anyone whose recent actions might cause any question of his sincerity on this matter, or continue to insert himself into Mason Industries’ proprietary intellectual-property ventures. He can sign an affidavit right now swearing to all the above, or. . . well, it’s really preferable that he signs.

Wyatt listens with disbelief, then incredulity, then anger – and then, despite himself, some fear. NDAs and classified protocols and stuff you can’t talk about for years, or ever, is obviously par for the course in this job; he generally expects that most, if not all, of his missions will remain officially off the books for the entire duration of his service and well after his retirement. But he knows how that works, and it entails letting him in on the secret first. This clearly is not what the brute squad came here to do. If he disobeys, he’s going somewhere the law can’t help him. Or worse.

“Look,” Wyatt says. “This is a little much, don’t you think? We’re all coworkers here, in a way. Like your boss says, all on the same side. You don’t have to – ”

“You married, Mr. Logan?”

“What?” Wyatt stares at Thing 1. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes.” He thinks of Jess, waiting for him to get home and not really believing he will. “Not that I see what that has to do with – ”

“Any kids?”

“No,” Wyatt says, slower. “Maybe, you know. One day.”

“If that’s the case, Mr. Logan, you want to sign.” Thing 2 slides a sheet of paper toward him. “Better for you and whatever family you’re thinking of having. Trust us here.”

Wyatt doesn’t see a way out of this car – at least any good one – if he doesn’t. He accepts the offered pen and scribbles illegibly where indicated; he’s heard of cases where people got out of ill-advised signing decisions because the prosecutor couldn’t prove it was their name on the damn thing. This done, the goons seem satisfied, at least for now, and tell him to head on home. They’ll handle Rufus. Everything will be fine.

“You just – ” Wyatt can’t punch them, much as he would like to, but he pins them with a searing look. “You just take him back to work and leave him alone, all right? He’s just a geek doing his job, he – don’t mess him up in this.”

The goons exchange an amused look, as if they’ll agree that they know something he doesn’t. Then Thing 1 says, “As long as Rufus keeps on living his life as normal, he has nothing to worry about. You have a good drive home, Mr. Logan.”

Wyatt is almost sure that that means they’ll be keeping tabs on him somehow to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere else en route, and likewise quite sure that he knew who took the picture of him and Emma. Probably sent it to Jessica as an opening shot across the bow. He waits until they open the door (the car does not have regular inside handles) and stumbles back out, just in time to see Cahill emerging from the office complex and looking pleased; evidently he has satisfied himself that there was no funny business with the equations submitted to the JPL. Rufus has shrunk back against Wyatt’s truck, and shoots him a desperate look, as if to acknowledge that he was not his biggest fan this morning, but now would really appreciate it if Wyatt would not leave him alone with these lunatics. Frankly, Wyatt does not want to, but it’s also clear that he is not going to be given a choice. He mouths sorry at Rufus several times, opens the driver side door, and gets in.

It takes him a moment to put the truck in gear. His hands feel cold and uncooperative, there is slime down his spine and an unpleasant lump in his gut. He doesn’t want to be meekly rolling out of here, tail between his legs, and yet somehow, he is. If this is Rittenhouse, and it seems beyond any doubt that it is, they have not, not in the least degree, come to play.

It is a very long drive home.

Lucy wakes up slowly, surfacing from a repeated roundabout of uneasy dreams, in that split-second state of total disorientation that she has had far too often recently. The light is an indeterminate grey, reflecting through her closed eyelids, and she can feel the stall before her brain belatedly re-engages and the events of the past twenty-four hours return in nauseating detail. She lies very still, as if hoping that they will get bored and go away, but of course, it’s too late. She’s here, they already happened, and Flynn –

At that, Lucy opens her eyes with a start. Despite the turbulence of her mental situation, her physical one is – for the moment – actually rather comfortable. She’s tucked into Flynn’s side like a shrimp, head half on his shoulder and half on the pillow, her arm draped over his stomach and moving with the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Their legs are entangled beneath the quilts, her knee between his thighs, and for once, if only since he’s fast asleep, he has abandoned his efforts to put as much space between them as possible. His left arm is wrapped around her shoulders, cradling her into him, and his right is resting atop the covers, as if he made sure to leave it free if sudden gun-grabbing should be called for. He clearly is not discounting the possibility, but – at least for now – the early morning is still and quiet.

Lucy lets out a long breath, fingers sketching lightly across Flynn’s broad chest. She doesn’t want to wake him, especially since he could probably use the rest even more than her, but she also can’t quite bring herself not to touch him, as if there is space and time and distance that needs to be made up, and she’s not sure how much longer she has to do so. She drifts the tips of her fingers over his solar plexus, careful about his wounded shoulder. The bruising looks uglier this morning, from where Millerson and Vincent hit him. Are they going to walk down for breakfast and find Emma lurking behind the bagels? How are they getting out of here?

Those are pressing questions, and now that she’s awake, Lucy can’t fend them off, but she still wants to try to hold onto this moment, in whatever small part of it she can get. She glances down at Flynn again. Even in sleep, he does not look relaxed, a grim line drawing his dark brows together as if his dreams are not pleasant either. She is taken by an odd urge to kiss it, to smooth it away. He’d likely wake up and do something else to prevent it, but still.

Lucy cautiously edges closer, moving her knee to the other side of his hip and swinging half atop him. She isn’t going to do anything too forward – he, after all, is unaware, she isn’t going to be creepy about this or ignore the fact that he can’t presently say yes or no – but she still wants to be closer, to press and shape them together, to take comfort, however fleeting, in his sheer solidness. After the fact that her entire world has turned to quicksand and shattered glass, there’s something deeply appealing about it. Yes, Flynn himself was responsible for a good part of that destabilization, but he’s also been trying just as hard to hold it together for her, in his take-no-prisoners, give-no-fucks kind of way. And it’s Rittenhouse that’s really done most of it. Flynn, for all his faults (and they are many), has been trying to protect her. Lucy is certain beyond any remaining doubt that as long as it is remotely in his power, he will keep her safe, and that is no small thing.

She hesitates, then traces her fingers over the grooves on either side of his mouth. He shifts and sighs, but doesn’t quite wake up, and she pulls her hand back. She settles back down next to him, unable to avoid the thought that it feels nice, lying here together. This is clearly not the time to investigate whether it could become a recurring arrangement, especially since she still has very little faith in his ability not to torch himself all over again. Who knows.

Lucy lies there until she has to regretfully disentangle herself from his arm and get up to pee. When she returns from the bathroom, Flynn is awake, sitting half up and looking around as if the one thing to summon him back to the land of the living was the sensation of her going missing from his side. When he sees her, he blows out a breath and tries to disguise it. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Lucy coughs. “Not Rittenhouse.”

Flynn answers with a grunt, sitting the rest of the way up and running a hand through his hair. He glances at the clock, then gets up right away to recon the parking lot, which is unchanged except for the crappy old RV. His face darkens. “I should take a look at that.”

“If Rittenhouse was here, don’t you think they’d have tried to case the rooms already?” Lucy isn’t sure, but she doesn’t want him going down alone. “Or at least – ”

“Who knows?” Flynn points out. “Less chance of a scene if they can just pull out and grab us once we leave, rather than breaking down everyone’s doors. Stay here, I’ll be back.”

With that, he clicks a fresh magazine into his gun, puts on his shoes, and goes out of the motel room, as Lucy watches very tensely. The last thing Flynn needs is more perforations in vulnerable regions, and she sees him emerge, stroll over to the RV, and rap briskly on the window. It takes a few moments to be answered, but finally, it turns out that the occupants of the RV are not elite undercover secret agents, but a dreadlocked young hippie couple who, to judge from the way Flynn’s nose wrinkles, absolutely reek of pot. Flynn proceeds to have a little chat with them. The male hippie seems to be apologizing profusely. They go back into the RV and emerge with a pair of hiking backpacks and a dog, give something to Flynn, and hoof it down the drive, out of sight beyond the trees. Flynn watches them with a malevolent expression, waits several minutes, then finally turns around and comes back up to the room, where he tosses an also vaguely-cannabis-scented keyring at Lucy. “It looks like it’s the piece of shit for us after all.”

“What did you – I thought you said it wasn’t worth stealing?”

“It isn’t,” Flynn says disparagingly. “Not in the least. But beggars can’t be choosers, and at least I could easily convince them not to file a police report or talk to anyone about it. If I had to go to the effort of actually stealing a car from someone who didn’t want to give it up, well…” He pauses, then shrugs. “Things could get unpleasant.”

Lucy decides she probably really does not want to know if he’s talking about carjacking and murder, which it sounds like he is. “So what, just told them to give you the RV and you wouldn’t tell anyone about the pot and illegal camping?”

“Something like that.” Flynn does not seem terribly concerned that they have now inherited the mobile weed situation. Maybe they can get some Febreze. “We’ll take it as far as it will go, then figure out something else. Get dressed, Lucy, we should go.”

This is true, even if Lucy can’t help but wonder resignedly what happened to the soft, gentle, worried caretaker of last night. Probably woke up and was aghast at himself for slipping. Or knows this is going to end with them separated again, and thinks he’ll make it easier if she wants to see the back of him. Push her away pre-emptively, so she doesn’t miss him when he’s gone. It’s the sort of garbage logic that probably appeals to him.

They don’t want to stay longer than necessary, so they eat the last few stale bread rolls and figure they’ll find something more substantial later. Then they head down and climb into their fancy new ride, which has a broken gas gauge and bits of yellowed stuffing exploding through the cracked faux-leather seats. The kitchen is clearly from the seventies, the bed is the size of a cupboard, Flynn cannot stand up even close to straight, and there’s dog hair on everything, as well as the lingering atmospheric aura of eau de ganja. Lucy opens the windows, trying to air it out and not breathe too deeply, as Flynn jiggles the gauge and tries to get it to tell how much he has before he has to find a service station. He finally guesses there’s a little under a quarter of a tank, and this beast probably does not get great mileage. Clearly thinking that it would have been worth it to kill a businessman and steal his Mercedes (though this is not the kind of place that attracts businessmen with Mercedes) he growls under his breath, puts it into gear, and swings out.

They rattle down the road, passing the hippies standing with their thumbs out in hopes of hitchhiking. Lucy wonders suddenly if Rittenhouse will come by and pick them up, if they will tell them who jacked their RV – has Flynn thought of that? She would be a fool to doubt it, but… it’s a horrible thing to consider, but should they have left them alive? Maybe someone would realize they were missing, but if they were just out here wandering, not for a while.

Lucy pushes it aside and returns to the passenger seat, and they drive until they hit the junction for I-87 and the main route up to the Catskills. There is a Wal-Mart mega center here, as Lucy thinks wryly that yet again, Wal-Mart to the rescue. Flynn pulls into the gas station to fill up the tank, but then drives over to the main store parking lot and beckons Lucy out. “I think we need to get you a gun.”

Lucy opens her mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again, then shuts it once more. Of course, you can in fact just walk into Wal-Mart and buy a gun from the sporting goods counter, especially in upstate New York – which, while it might not be libertarian-paradise-rural-survivalist Maine, still has plenty of that mentality in places, especially not far from the military academy. She doesn’t want it and she wants to think she won’t need it, but she also can’t say it’s wrong. “I – ” she says. “I don’t – are you sure that’s really – ”

“I’ll teach you how to use it,” Flynn says. “And I obviously would prefer that you didn’t have to. But I think it’s time you did.”

Lucy does not have a substantial denial for this, and they walk inside. Go to the gun counter, Flynn says his wife wants to look at something compact and sporty (Lucy notices how comfortable both of them have gotten with that lie, just comes naturally to their tongues now) and the salesman pulls out a few options. Lucy picks them up carefully; they all feel alien and heavy and wrong in her hand. She lies – too easily – about having something mainly for target shooting (well, this isn’t wrong, she will possibly be shooting at targets, just not the one the salesman thinks). Then the salesman asks if she has her pistol permit, if she’s an in-state resident, and since the answers to both these questions are no, they have to politely thank him for his time and bow out. Gun laws actually working for once. Mirabile visu.

Still, Flynn does not intend to be thwarted, and since upstate New York generally has a lot more slide in its handgun licensing requirements than NYC, he figures there has to be another private gun store around here, because a) hunting country and b) America. There is, and it isn’t totally straightforward, but he manages to convince the owner that the license is in the pipeline and that (with a quick flash of his NSA ID) it would really be a good idea for him to sell. This is a risky strategy, because the guy is as likely to hate the government as to obey, but he decides he does not want the hassle. He supports women being armed too. He’s a feminist.

Lucy manages not to visibly roll her eyes at this, but they finally pick out a smallish handgun that she can hold comfortably. They buy a few clips for it, Flynn gives her a lecture on the various types of ammunition, the bore differences, don’t put the wrong size bullet in, etc. etc. He goes over the basic firearm rules – always assume it’s loaded, don’t ever point it at a person (or animal) unless prepared to shoot, keep it secured when you don’t have direct control of it, don’t loan it out, so on. Lucy feels as if this should be common sense, but she knows it’s not, and she does her best to listen attentively as she hands over her driver’s license, passes a five-minute background check, signs some paperwork, and is now the proud owner of her very own gun. American as apple pie.

She keeps looking at it as they get back into the RV. Opens the owner’s manual and carefully scrutinizes all the parts and pieces, still can’t imagine how she’d be comfortable toting this around as an everyday accessory (they had “For Him” camouflage gun cases, and “For Her” pink ones, because Heteronormative Gender Roles!) Finally, before she can stop herself, she says, “Where did you learn – where did you learn all this?”

Flynn glances briefly sidelong at her, with a grim smile. “How to shoot?”

“That, and just…” Lucy waves a hand. “All of it.”

Flynn takes his time about answering, until she briefly thinks he won’t. Then he says, “I enlisted in the Croatian army when I was fifteen. 1990. The Soviet Union was breaking up, there was the war for independence. After that, I just… kept doing it. There were stints in Chechnya, in Bosnia, in Kosovo. I was in Afghanistan after the ’01 invasion. Briefly in America, then Somalia in 2006. That was my last war. I joined the NSA after that. So.” He pauses, then shrugs, as if this is just like anyone’s CV. “I’ve had experience.”

Yes, Lucy thinks, he has. Got started as a fifteen-year-old boy, probably lying about his age because he looked older, to go shoot some Reds. If he’s been around the Balkans, he’s probably been constantly fighting in regional guerrilla wars, against the Russians, against the Serbs, in whatever populist uprising is at hand against the oppressive status quo. Maybe what he’s doing against Rittenhouse is not terribly different. She wants to ask what he was doing in San Francisco in March 2003, when he saved her life, but doesn’t expect she’d get an answer.

They drive steadily. Lucy sees a road marker for I-80 west, and then a “Welcome to Pennsylvania” sign not much later – apparently, they’re back. She can’t think that they’re going back to Penn, unless Flynn thinks those Nicholas Keynes files are really that vital – but the whole place must be on high lookout. “Where are we going?”

“The one and only Gambier, Ohio.” Flynn downshifts with a worrisome grinding sound. “You have a job to interview for, don’t you?”

Kenyon. God. Lucy legitimately almost forgot. She could hardly feel less prepared to waltz in there and present herself as a competent, trustworthy, well-put together adult, when she’s arriving in an ancient, pot-smelling RV with her not-really-boyfriend, an ex-NSA asset on the run from the evil organization that has tried to kidnap and/or kill both of them at least once. Is it really fair to Kenyon to turn up and act like she’s in a real position to take the job? Maybe she is, but she has no way of knowing for sure. Rittenhouse could just come barging around this campus, instead of Stanford’s.

They have just stopped for gas and some proper food in Altoona, Pennsylvania, and Flynn has been trying to figure out if that banging noise is going to get any worse, when they see blue lights in the mirror, a siren wails, and a Pennsylvania state trooper ushers them over onto the gravel shoulder. Flynn swears. “Hide the gun.”

Lucy thinks this should be obvious, even her own heart has picked up to a dangerous level. A traffic stop with at least two weapons in the car, a strong reek of marijuana, no registration or insurance (she digs in the glove box and comes up with an emissions report, failed, from 2004) and not a single clue who used to own the damn thing before them (did the hippies just reclaim it from the junkyard?) Flynn pulls out his Alexander Kovac passport and is clearly preparing to lean on the dumb foreign tourist card with all his might. They sit as tensely as statues while the trooper runs the plates. Finally, they hear crunching footsteps, he approaches the car, and Flynn obligingly rolls down the window. In a very thick German accent, he says, “Hallo?”

“Afternoon, sir, ma’am.” The trooper is your standard-issue, early-thirties beefy white guy with a blond buzzcut and a ranger hat. “Do you know why I’ve stopped you today?”

“It is because the… because the…” Flynn waves a hand as if he can’t think of the right English word and is hoping the trooper will supply it for him. “The… rule?”

“Your tags expired last October, and your tailpipe is smoking. Where are you folks from?”

“We’re visiting,” Lucy says, in the best French accent she can pull off at short notice. Altoona Allan here is not likely to be able to tell the difference. “From Europe. We have borrowed the campervan from our friends. There is a problem?”

The trooper sniffs the air. “You two been enjoying your visit to America, then?”

“Vas is dat mean?” Flynn blinks as innocently as a lamb. “I have here mein passport.” He hands it over. “Alexander Kovac.”

The trooper flips through it. “You have a U.S. or German driver’s license, Mr. Kovac?”

Flynn hesitates. He, after all, has several, but they all have different names on them. “I haff German license.”

“You have that license on you, Mr. Kovac?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” Flynn digs through his wallet for several minutes, looking first confused and then increasingly flustered. “Honey, where is my license? I had at airport, yes? When we rented car? I showed them then?”

“Where did you folks arrive in the country?”

“We flew into Philadelphia,” Lucy says, which is not a lie. She opens her own wallet and pulls out her luggage tags from the Philadelphia airport. “Yes?”

“Thank you, ma’am. You find that license, sir?”

“I – I haff it, I haff it just the other day.”

“All right, well. Just in case, sir, please step out of the vehicle.”

“Why is dat?” Flynn says, looking agitated. “This is – I have not done an error!”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Kovac. Do you have anything you would like to declare?”

“Declare?”

“Is there anything in the vehicle that I need to know about right now?”

“There is – there is just my wife. We are going to see, you know.” Flynn waves a hand. “Beautiful Pennsylvania.”

“I see. Please step out of the vehicle, slowly. Mrs. Kovac, stay where you are, please.”

Flynn considers. Lucy can see a muscle working in his jaw. Then he gets out of the RV and straightens up, whereupon it becomes apparent that he has several inches and a good fifteen pounds on the trooper. Not that she’s calculating the odds of him beating up a policeman, since that is the one thing definitely guaranteed to bring the wrath of Khan on their heads, but – well, she may be calculating the odds of him beating up a policeman. They eye each other up and down. Hopefully Flynn does not smell too noticeably of pot outside the confines of the driver’s seat. He’s clearly dearly wishing that he did in fact go for the Mercedes.

The officer insists on administering a pat-down, checks the passport again, and finally decides that they are clearly very clueless and should probably learn how things are done in the good ol’ U.S of A. But he gives them a ticket and tells them to get the tags updated, and that they should maybe check with their friends about the lifestyle choices they appear to be making. He has decided to let it go this time and not ruin their holiday, for which he clearly expects to be thanked. Flynn does so. Then he gets back into his cruiser, pulls off the shoulder, and drives away.

Flynn stands there until it’s certain that he’s gone, then marches back to the driver’s seat,  jerks the door open, and gets in, fuming. He plainly knows just as well as Lucy that they have had a very, very lucky escape, but it also raises the possibility of a repeat incident that may not have the same result. “I knew this piece of shit was more trouble than it was worth!”

“Hey.” Lucy reaches over to grab his hand. She has to hold on for a moment as well, to steady herself. “Let’s – let’s just keep going, all right?”

Flynn’s eyes flick from hers to their fingers. He lets out a slow sigh, then starts the engine again. He does not cease to mutter under his breath in a wide and colorful variety of vernaculars, but at least they get underway again. It’s another four and a half hours from here to Gambier, but neither of them feel like stopping. If their valiant chariot doesn’t just die on the spot. Lucy thinks briefly of Puff the Tragic Wagon, thinks of the sensation of plunging, the cold water rushing in, feeling it sink away beneath her even as Flynn hauled her to the surface. After that, aside from just doubling down on the history, she became very averse to risks, wouldn’t even go on those extreme-thrill roller coasters or anything like that. Nothing dangerous, nothing out of her control, nothing to make her think she’s still falling. Had a panic attack in public when it felt like a BART train she was riding had lost its brakes, was going to derail or worse. She doesn’t know when she’s felt more like that than now.

It’s getting dark by the time they finally plow into Gambier, which is a very small Midwestern-standard town; Kenyon is the main reason anyone comes here. They find a Comfort Inn and get a room, which has two beds this time. Lucy can’t help being somewhat disappointed. Not for any reason.

In any case, the topic doesn’t come up, because they eat dinner, sleep like the dead, and wake up the next morning in a vain attempt to look less like they feel. Lucy does her hair and makeup, Flynn shaves, and while they will be arriving in the worst vehicle in the history of vehicles, hopefully that won’t be the first thing the selection committee notices. As they step outside, Lucy notices that the RV’s expired New York plates have been changed for current Ohio ones, and raises an eyebrow at Flynn. “Just find those lying around?”

“No,” Flynn says. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

“You didn’t…?”

“If I killed someone, I promise, I would also have stolen his car.” Apparently not realizing that that is not a comforting statement, Flynn opens the passenger door for her with a slight, sarcastic bow. “Madame?”

Lucy rolls her eyes at him, but gets in. They drive to Kenyon campus and park, consult the directory, and bumble in the direction they need to go, until they find the history department. Lucy apologizes several times for turning up like this out of the blue, introduces herself, and asks if Professor So-and-so, who knows Dr. Underwood, has a spare moment this morning. Fortunately, it’s quiet, so she is taken through, shakes hands and makes more introductions. This is just an informal meet-and-greet, not a formal interview, but they want to know what sort of questions she has, what they can tell her about the position, etc. Standard stuff.

Lucy spends the morning more enjoyably than she has for a while, getting shown around the department and meeting her potential new colleagues. They are all very nice (it is the Midwest) and generously offer that her boyfriend can come too, if he wants. Flynn has been too busy keeping an eye on all windows and exits to pay much attention, but Lucy says quickly that he’s fine, though it’s true that she finds herself getting antsy when they have been out of each other’s sight for too long. But no way Rittenhouse can be here. Right?

Finally, they wrap things up, Lucy shakes everyone’s hands again, and they promise to be in contact very soon. She’s still feeling very good about herself as she and Flynn walk out; you would never know that she almost died two days ago, or whatever could have happened (she somehow doesn’t believe that Emma’s promise not to hurt her would have held out indefinitely). They were very impressed with her CV and her research background, the amount of teaching she’s already done, the various projects she has in the pipeline (she will probably complete a Lincoln monograph in a year or two, and has had three articles published). Likewise, Lucy can sense that it is possible for her to be very happy here. Gambier is a sleepy nowhere that would be a big change from Palo Alto, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. At least give it a try. It’s not tenure-track, she can leave in a few years if she hates it, but as a starter job, it could be much worse.

They get into the RV and billow back into town, where they get lunch, and Flynn decides that they are going to make the most of their terrible vacation by finding a shooting range and giving her some preliminary lessons. They stop at the motel to change into some more appropriate clothes and retrieve the guns, then drive around until they find one. Park, and head inside.

Lucy has been wondering what exactly the lessons will entail, if Flynn’s pedagogical method is just to light it up and deal with the consequences later, but he turns out to be a very precise and exacting teacher. Before they get anywhere near the actual shooting, he makes her load and unload the gun a dozen times, feel the difference between each, know how to click the magazine in and out and tell just by the weight if it’s armed or not. They’re using blanks for these first exercises, rather than live ammunition, but she has to treat it as if it is loaded and ready to kill at all times. Practice switching the safety on and off, likewise start to know if it is or not just by how it feels in her hand. Work on how to draw it without pointing it at anything you don’t want to point it at. How to grip it, what it feels like to fully pull the trigger. Practice that, a dozen more times. All right, now put it all together.

Lucy is not the world’s most physically coordinated or gifted individual, and this is not something that comes naturally to her, but she tries. At last, when she can do all this more or less without literally shooting herself in the foot, they get the bright orange ear protectors, go to one of the galleries, and set up. Flynn takes the pistol from her and nails half a dozen dead-center shots in about thirty seconds, either to test that it’s working or just to show off, then watches with an eagle eye as Lucy loads it properly for the first time. The ear protectors make it hard to communicate verbally, so he stands behind her and adjusts her arms and hands, sets her into a good stance, nudging her slightly here and there. Then he lets go, and nods.

Lucy raises the gun, tries not to think about doing this reflexively and shooting Millerson, and aims at the target. Her hands are oddly steady. Then she fires.

The gun kicks, even if not as much as a rifle would, and she takes half a step backward into Flynn. He steadies her, hands momentarily lingering at her waist, as they inspect the result; she at least hit the target, if nowhere near the center. He pronounces it acceptable for a first try with a brusque nod of his head, and beckons her to try again.

They’ve been working on the actual shooting part for thirty minutes or so, after the hour and a half of preliminaries, when another man comes in, takes out his ear protectors and his service weapon – looks cop or military, and very hopefully not a friend or employee of Pennsylvania law enforcement – and starts jacking in the rounds. It’s clear he’s good at it, and Lucy tells herself that it’s her imagination that his eyes periodically flicker sideways to them. Even if they are, that doesn’t mean it has a nefarious purpose – he could just feel bad for the guy trying to teach his girlfriend how to shoot, because women, etc. Maybe they are intruding on whatever fantasy he is imagining for himself. He’s not Rittenhouse, Rittenhouse can’t know that they’re here, or just what a shitbox of an RV they stole. Unless they picked up the hippies, and the hippies blabbed. Is that what happened? Is it?

Lucy is losing her focus, and Flynn likewise seems to be slightly edgy. They shoot a few more clips, but wrap it up, pay for their time, and head out. Hopefully not too quickly or suspiciously. Lucy is rattled, feels as if her momentary illusion of safety and isolation from the rest of the insanity has been destroyed, and can’t sit down when they get back to the motel room. She really just wants to go home. She just wants it to be over, to –

And just then, that’s when her phone rings.

It’s not Emma, which was her first, paranoid thought. It’s the dean at Kenyon. They were very impressed with her this morning, and of course there are still more formalities to go through, committees to rubber-stamp things, and so on. But if she wants the job as soon as she has the PhD in hand, they would be happy to extend a proper offer. Does she? Want it?

Lucy sits there frozen, briefly having forgotten how to breathe. It feels almost like another panic attack, though she doesn’t know why. Is she going to move from the beautiful, sunny Bay Area, her home, her roots, to Bumfuck, Ohio? Leave her mom and Amy and Stanford and everything she knows, to come out here alone and never know if the sharpshooting guy at the gun range was a secret Rittenhouse agent? Do that one thing – throw herself out into the void, into the ether, the reckless and  uncontrollable, that she’s avoided so steadfastly since the accident? This would be a huge change. She would have no support system. It feels too close to West Point and Rittenhouse’s black site there, even though it’s three states away. If so, what, bring Emma and her associated maniacs down on these nice Midwesterners? Can she do that? She feels like she’s going to throw up. Jesus, how can she possibly –

“Ms. Preston?” The dean sounds puzzled. “Are you still there?”

“I. . . I am.” Lucy takes a heaving breath. “I. . . thank you for your consideration. So much. But I – I just – right now, honestly, I – I don’t think it’s the right fit. It was – it was so nice to meet you all, and the position is wonderful, but – ”

Her throat closes. This is as close to her dream job as she is going to be offered – certainly just after graduation, possibly ever – and she is letting it slip through her fingers. She is just too scared, and Rittenhouse’s shadow has fallen over everything, and her mother’s face is in her head, looking disappointed. Lucy, she sighs. Of course you weren’t going to leave me?

“Ms. Preston?” the dean says again. “Would you like some time to think about it?”

“I. . .” Lucy’s fingers are cold and nerveless. “I just – I am so grateful, I am so grateful to you for meeting me so ad-hoc, and – and everything. I really am. I wish I could accept it, I wish it so much. But with how things are in my life right now, I’ve thought it over and. . .”

Flynn looks up with a start, as he has been checking something on his own phone, and frowns at her. Lucy shakes her head at him, barely manages to hold it together for the rest of the conversation, and finally hangs up. Then she leans forward and puts her face in her hands.

“Lucy?” Flynn gets to his feet. “What was that about? Why didn’t you take the job?”

Lucy doesn’t know if she can or wants to explain, or if the howl of misery forming in her chest is just going to come rushing up her throat. Flynn remains hovering for a moment more, then sits on the bed next to her, and very gingerly puts an arm around her shoulder. It’s as if he’s not entirely sure that this is a thing humans do in a situation where their friend is sad, like he’s just dressed up as one and is hoping nobody notices. But Lucy turns, takes hold of his shirt with both fists, and buries her face into his chest. She takes half a ragged breath, and – it’s this, it’s everything, it’s too much, too much – silently starts to cry.

Flynn holds her as if he is once more unsure if this is a thing people do with their arms, rather than using them for punching. He pats her back once or twice as if she’s a colicky baby, but for the most part, he just lets her get on with it, like being sick, knowing it’s been a long time coming and she’ll feel better once she’s done. Finally when she’s fallen more or less silent except for a hiccup or two, slumped against him, he says, “I thought you wanted it.”

“I d-did.” Lucy wipes her nose, snuffling. “I – I do. I do. But right now, how can I – how can I be here alone, how can I leave Mom and Amy and Stanford, how – with Rittenhouse probably just waiting for me to – I’d put the people at Kenyon in danger too, it’s just – it’s not going to work right now. It’s just not going to work.”

Flynn doesn’t answer except for a noncommittal humming noise. It’s unclear whether he agrees or disagrees with this line of reasoning. Then he says, “All right. Well. If that’s what you actually want, then. . .  we’ll drive to Columbus and get a flight back to San Francisco tomorrow. I don’t think you should shackle yourself to that bitch, but – ”

Lucy stares at him, aghast. “You’re talking about my mother. Who has cancer.”

Flynn looks briefly like he’s been caught with his trousers down, though she doesn’t know why. Then he shrugs. “You didn’t seem to be very fond of her either.”

“When did I say that?”

“Earlier,” Flynn says, though Lucy can’t think when they’ve ever talked about her mother in any detail. “Anyway, wherever you go, you need to keep up practice with that gun. We don’t know who will find you, or what they’ll – ”

“I need to keep up practice with that gun?” Lucy stares at him, brow wrinkled. “Am I mistaken, or does that sound like you don’t plan on being around to help?”

Flynn glances away. Finally he says, “You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about the future, about what needs to be done. Yes, I could go back and try to destroy the time machine, but you heard what Emma said. They still haven’t invented half the things they need. I can’t be sure that it would permanently stop them if I did it now, that I would take out anything close to what I need to. And even if I did destroy it, Rittenhouse would still be there, they would still be evil, they would still have Connor Mason and any of their marching myrmidons there to make more for them. I can’t stop them like that. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Lucy keeps staring at him. She isn’t sure entirely what he’s suggesting, but she doesn’t like it. “Garcia, what are you – ”

Flynn looks back at her levelly. “I need to know more,” he says, after a long moment. “About Rittenhouse, about how they got this capability, about what they’re going to do with it. And for what I need to do with that, it’s going to be very difficult for us to – well. To anything. So. I’m sorry, Lucy. But we may not see each other again for – a long time.”

“You. . .” Lucy feels punched. “So you’re what – going off the grid?”

“Something like that. Yes.” Flynn almost succeeds in sounding matter-of-fact. “I know how to live like this, what I need to do. You don’t. One day, we will work together, Lucy. You’ll see. But this, I need to do alone.”

“You – ” Lucy is half-tempted to say screw it, she’ll drop everything, she’ll come with him. But she doesn’t, as he says, have any experience of disappearing off the face of the earth, of conducting deep-cover intelligence operations for months, living on the run – the limited experience she has had of it already has been decidedly unpleasant. That’s the whole reason she turned down the Kenyon job – to return to the safe, settled embrace of Stanford and her mom’s house and her controllable, predictable life, not to fling it completely to the wind and go deep underground on this very dangerous mission. And yet. A tiny, painful part of her thinks it might not be so bad if it meant she got to stay with him.

Flynn sees the look on her face. He smiles sadly, and touches her chin with his thumb. “I told you not to give up history for a boy,” he says. “It doesn’t change now that I’m that boy.”

With that, he lowers his face to hers, and gently, lightly kisses her forehead, the most tender thing he has ever done to her, at least openly. His hand stays alongside her cheek, and Lucy turns her mouth up, all but begging him to kiss her properly, fuck it, even if it makes tomorrow even worse. His eyes drop to her lips, and she can see that there is no part of him that does not want to. Indeed, he clearly wants to do just that, and more. Would be entirely willing to throw tonight away and forget about the morning, just burn the consequences the way he often does, and consider it a parting gift. The air almost shivers. Their eyes remain locked. If she touched him now, he might snap, and then, better judgments or not, wise ideas completely aside and self-control out the window, it could happen anyway.

At last, with a visible swallow, Flynn pushes himself backward. There does not seem to be enough air in the room for both of them, and it is clearly impossible for them to touch, even in passing, without using up all of it. Lucy’s fingers claw out inadvertently after him, fall short. Her voice is caught in her throat. “Garcia – ”

“It’s better that we don’t, Lucy.” His face is turned away from her, profile half in light and half in shadow. “Not if I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Yet-frigging-again, Lucy can’t tell if this means that he would be totally unable to leave her, to commit himself to the long and lonely work of whatever he’s going to do to take down Rittenhouse, if he abandoned himself to a night of wild passion with her, or if it’s just a distraction he prefers to do without anyway. No sex the night before the big game (Lucy dated a second-string member of the Stanford Cardinal football team for six months as a freshman) or whatever. It’s true that she is still not in a good headspace, to say the least. That this likewise counts as the kind of bad decision she is dutifully trying to avoid. But – how?

(How does she let him go, how does she know what the world looks like now, how does this make sense, how is this bearable, how is he going to possibly do this – any or all of those.)

(How.)

Lucy stares at the ceiling, and listens to everything burn.

[reformedkingsmanagent]

nsfw prompts #187 and #193 pretty please?

AN: Guys, this prompt got away from me. I was totally unable to rein it in and as a result, I feel like this could easily become a series…. I feel like this is a fair send off for this weekend! If there is interest, I could continue this…

Prompt: NSFW: #187 “Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”// #193 “Good Girl.”

Pairing: Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 3085 (I know…)

Warnings: NSFW/Suuuper smutty (I’m so horrible guys)

The gala felt like a waste of time. You took a sip from the crystal champagne flute only because it was in your hand. The whole event felt artificial. You couldn’t have told anyone what charity it was for by looking around. The ballroom was full of predatory old men with very young women on their arms.

Gross.

Your eyes found Charlie across the room, dressed in a deep blue Kingsman suit, his hands in his pockets as he carried on a conversation with a man who could have been your grandfather. The old man’s date looked just as bored as you. Your eyes returned to Charlie who was now looking in your direction, subtly waving you over. You gave him a small ‘no’ and turned around, wishing you had been partnered with anyone else.

You thought it would be unusual for Charlie to be there since he was younger than 65, but he seemed to fit right in their boy’s club conversations. No doubt because of his family’s position. He had probably been to hundreds of events like this. It was why he was chosen for the mission, no one would think twice about him being there. You couldn’t have gone by yourself, you realize, because there was not a single unaccompanied female in the room. The whole event had a private atmosphere, like a secret dinner party where men took their mistresses and no one mentioned it.

Definitely gross.

Oh god, did that mean they were all thinking about what you were to…Charlie?!

You felt someone squeeze your bum, and as you turned around to murder whoever thought it was okay to grope you, you were met with Charlie’s dazzling grin. He reached up with his other enormous hand to steady your arm so you didn’t actually hit him. He was fucking beaming at his little display. Bastard. “Hello, love.” He emphasized. “Sorry I had to step away.” He leaned in for a kiss and you dodged it, letting him touch your cheek with his full lips. “I know you missed me.” If he was annoyed, he didn’t look it.

If you didn’t already understand just how much of a colossal ass he was, you might have said he looked handsome. The slight scruff along his jaw seemed to make you forget for a moment where you were. He was wearing glasses reminiscent of Merlin’s, not something standard for Kingsman agents. They suited him far better than the standard issue pair. You would have been obvious with your glasses, so you were forced to go without. You couldn’t hear your Scottish guide, and you wondered if he was berating Charlie yet.

You two hated each other. It wasn’t a secret back at HQ that the two of you couldn’t be in a room together for more than five minutes without a shouting match erupting. People actively left the area if they realized the both of you were there. Roxy once suggested to you that it was just sexual tension and that there was an easy fix for it. She never mentioned it again.

“Yes.” Charlie spoke lowly, and you watched him while he listened. His eyes were moving quickly, scanning the room even as Merlin provided direction, constantly assessing the situation. “No, I got it already.” So he had already gotten the old man to spill. What were you two still doing there then? “Understood.” Charlie removed his glasses and tucked them into his jacket.

You finished off your champagne and leaned down to set the empty glass on the table. When you straightened up, Charlie was staring at you. “What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. He just shot you a smile that screamed mischief before snagging a glass of champagne for himself as a waiter passed by. When he downed it immediately, you got a little concerned. Wasting no time at all, he grabbed another glass. “Charlie, what are you doing?” You tried to take the fresh glass from him, but he moved it out of reach, up and over his shoulder.

“No, this is for me.” As you followed the glass with your hands, he curled an arm around your waist, crushing you against him. “I’ll get you another.” You pushed back against his chest, feeling just how firm he was under your touch.

“Hesketh, get your hands off me.” You warned him. You must have sounded genuinely threatening because he released you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He took a big sip from the new glass, setting the old one down next to yours at the table. You stepped out of the way to avoid any further physical contact. You felt a flutter as he licked his lips. Okay, no more drinks for you.

“We’ve got the rest of the night off.” He stood up straight, towering over you. “I fully intend to partake of this lush spread seeing as it’s free and I have nowhere to be tomorrow.” He gestured over his shoulder, and you noticed for the first time the assortment of hors d'oeuvres scattered across a few banquet tables. “If you are done threatening me, I’ll gladly lead you over there.” He cautiously put his free hand at your lower back, nudging you over towards the food.

“I don’t need to go with you, just go.” You stepped out of his reach and crossed your arms over your chest. He smiled and leaned in, mouth awfully close to your ear.

“Somehow, I don’t think you want any of these guys thinking they’ve got a shot at paying rent on your luxury downtown flat in exchange for the worst sex you’ve ever had. And to be honest…” Charlie looked you up and down. If you weren’t in the middle of a packed ballroom you would have slapped him. “They wouldn’t be able to leave you alone, looking like that.”

Why did that leave you dumbfounded? You were angry with yourself for even reacting to him. It was exactly what he wanted. He seemed to sense your internal struggle and had decided to make it that much worse by letting his nose graze your cheek. “Come on. I want some of those mini quiches.”

You couldn’t come up with any other excuse that kept you two separated. You felt him wrap an arm around you slowly, experimentally, waiting for you to shrug him off. When you didn’t, he smiled to himself and both of you made your way across the room to the piles of food.

“What’s that?” You leaned over Charlie’s shoulder, pointing to something resembling a strangely colored mousse.

He chuckled, glancing at you. “You don’t want to know, trust me.” He carried both his plate and yours, and you stayed close to him, feeling unwelcome eyes on you. “Here we go.” He stopped in front of a mountain of ice, the home to a few dozen oysters. “How many do you want?” He asked, beginning to put a few on his plate.

“I don’t think I want any, thanks.” He looked at you incredulously. “What?”

“Have you ever had a fresh, raw oyster before?” He asked, putting one on your plate anyway.

“No, Charlie.” You answered as he picked up both plates, continuing on down the line.

“They’re supposed to be an aphrodisiac.” He winked over his shoulder and you could feel your cheeks heat up. Good god, you just wanted to go back to HQ already and sleep off the alcohol. He usually wasn’t this charming.

“Hey, grab us something to drink? I’m going to go find our table.” Charlie carried the plates in his hands and left you in line for drinks. You missed him.

When you finally started to walk over to the table, drinks in hand, you stopped dead in your tracks. Charlie was sitting sideways in his chair, talking to a pretty young blonde who had no doubt escaped her chaperone for the evening so she could cozy up to the only attractive man in the room. Charlie’s cheeks were pink and you could hear his laughter from across the room. You were immediately jealous.

You kept walking, still trying to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t want anyone else even talking to Charlie. You were angry at yourself, but also forgiving. You were allowed to find people attractive, no matter how insufferable they were.

Except for Charlie. That’s what usually came after those thoughts entered your brain, but not this time. Could Roxy have been right? Would getting Charlie out of your system really help? Maybe you owed Roxy an apology.

There was a break in their conversation which allowed you to slide in and set the drinks down. Before he could pick up his glass and take a sip, you grabbed his arm and pulled him along towards the main doors. “Sweetheart, if you could explain what’s going on I would really appreciate it.” You didn’t answer but instead pulled him into a small bathroom, shutting the door and locking it.

“Okay, now i’m very interested-”

“Just shut up, Charlie.” You grabbed his tie and used it to pull his face down to meet yours.

You kissed him hungrily, finally feeling just how soft his lips were for yourself. He opened his mouth and his tongue met yours in a fight for dominance. You wanted to control this moment, to prove that this wasn’t about him. You needed to ease this need and go back to not caring how he looked or how much you wanted him to touch you. You were just satisfying an irrational craving. You had to get Charlie Hesketh out of your system.

You released your grip on his tie and reached up, threading your fingers through his soft hair, crushing his mouth against yours. He moaned into your mouth and you felt a flutter of excitement at being able to elicit such a reaction from him.

His hands gripped your legs, gently lifting you up so you could sit on the edge of the bathroom counter. His large hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs, taking your dress with them until it was bunched up around your waist. He stood there between your legs, keeping his hands firmly on your thighs. You could feel him rubbing lazily against your still-clothed center as he kissed you, sending shocks through your lower half each time he made contact. He was decently hard after what had to have been only a minute or so of kissing you. You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Already?” You teased, breathless. “Do I really have that much of an effect on you?”

“I can stop.” He warned, taking a step back. You already missed the contact, but you were sure it wasn’t specifically him that you missed. Not Charlie.

“Okay.” You shrugged, putting on a brave face. You felt a strong ache between your legs, reminding you of what your body wanted. Of what he could potentially offer you. It was all you could think about.

The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to break first. You couldn’t-he would never stop holding something like that over your head.

“I thought you hated me.” He spoke, filling the cramped bathroom with his deep voice. It was the one thing you had allowed yourself to admit was nice about him. You realized you had previously allowed yourself similar transgressions here and there. His blue eyes, his rare smiles around you, his strength, and most recently his attempt to grow a beard. It went firmly against the Kingsman dress code, but it just looked so right on him.

“What makes you think I don’t?” You said, watching him. He laughed, but there wasn’t any amusement in his eyes.

“You’re letting me touch you, aren’t you?” He asked, getting close to you again. He let his hands return to your thighs but he kept moving higher and higher until he reached the thin material covering you. He maintained eye contact as his fingers found the waistband on either side of your hips and began tugging it down. Your heart was pounding with anticipation. You would let him do this, and then you would never think about him again.

Once the underwear slipped off your legs, you watched him fold it neatly and stick it in his pants pocket. “No complaints yet?” He teased.

“Charlie,” you warned. He bit his lip and returned to you, this time lifting you off the counter for a second to get you closer to the edge. You had to lean back to accomplish this, and you felt the faucet digging into your back. His hands left you for a moment, and you tried adjusting your position to ease the pressure you felt but to no avail. You were about to tell him you couldn’t sit like that for very long but your thoughts were sharply interrupted by a gentle swipe of his tongue over your most sensitive area. You cried out, completely surprised, and braced yourself by pushing out against the walls on either side of the vanity. The faucet was forgotten.

“You’ll have to be quiet, love. They’ll hear you.” You looked down at him, and wished you hadn’t. His jacket was on the floor beside him, his dress shirt sleeves had been rolled up, and he had loosened his tie. He was on his knees, face incredibly close to where you desperately wanted it to be, but he was looking up at you. The eye contact made your heartbeat quicken. “What?” He grinned, knowing full well what.

“Charlie,” you begged.

He raised his eyebrows. “What was that? Do I hear begging?” He asked, his nose moving along the inside of your thigh.

“Fuck off.” You groaned and looked away. He concealed his laughter by turning his face into your skin, playfully biting you. You jumped, and he used his hands to steady you.

“You know, I didn’t get to have any of my food before you pulled me in here. Jealous much, babe?” Before you could say anything to defend yourself, his tongue returned to your folds, and you were forced to bite your lip to keep quiet.

“Good girl,” he murmured against you before continuing to put you through torture. Heavenly torture.

He applied pressure with his tongue in waves, and you resisted the urge to grab his hair and push him closer, knowing it would mean that you would probably fall off the counter.

Just as you felt yourself getting close, he stopped, pressing tender kisses all over. You felt the cold air hit you, and you knew he must have moved away. His right hand left your hip and you felt him slide one of his fingers in slowly, pressing kisses to the inside of your thigh. You heard him mumble something about you being wet for him, and your cheeks turned bright red.

He picked a spot for his mouth, high up on the inside of your left thigh, and started sucking, intent on leaving a mark. He was gently moving his hand in and out, adding a second finger moments later.

You couldn’t focus on any one thing. He was overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t stop biting your lip for fear you would scream.

He pulled away from the spot he most likely left on your thigh, still gripping the skin between his teeth for a second longer. You could feel your pulse there, and you wondered just how bad the bruise would be. He smoothed the hand holding you down along your abdomen, under your dress. He used his other hand to lift a leg and place it over his shoulder before he returned his mouth to your most sensitive spot, sucking and pulling gently.

Between that and his unnaturally long fingers, you didn’t stand a chance. You covered your mouth with one of your hands as he pulled you through an orgasm. You couldn’t breathe as you felt your walls clenching around his fingers. You could feel him smile against you, but he didn’t stop until your limbs were slack, all tension gone. He withdrew his fingers and you looked down at him, breathless.

“Already?” He asked, mocking your earlier words. He looked up at you with a smirk. You suppressed an urge to smack him. He returned to his feet, wiping you off of his chin before leaning down to kiss you softly. “Did I break you?” He asked, pressing his forehead to yours. He stole another kiss. “Do you hate me as much now?” You knew you didn’t. Maybe you never hated him in the first place. You just didn’t want to admit that you liked the smug bastard. You wondered what he would do if you told him.

“Charlie…” You reached down for his belt, but he grabbed your wandering hand and brought it to his lips.

“While that is incredibly tempting, I can’t let you do that.” You were offended. After what he had just done for you, he wouldn’t let you do anything for him? Where was this earlier? He had seemed interested enough. “It’s alright. I knew this wasn’t about me.” As he backed away from you, you hopped down off of the counter, unsteady on your feet. He caught you before you could stumble, and you allowed your hands to spread out over his broad chest.

“Why don’t we get out of here.” He picked his jacket up off of the floor and threw it over your shoulders. He was back to his formal, gentlemanly act. You smoothed your dress out and did your best to not think about the fact that this would never happen again. He wouldn’t talk about it after this. That would be painful for you. The single most wonderful experience of your life, and you were doomed to never repeat it.

He moved to open the door, but you grabbed his arm. “Charlie, wait.” He paused, giving you the chance to think about what you wanted to say. “I want to continue this.” It was the truth, but you didn’t know how to explain that you were realizing you were wrong about your hatred towards him. “We should talk about this.”

“We should.” He agreed. “But not here.”

“I don’t want to go back to HQ.” You told him, squeezing his bicep in your hands. Going back to HQ meant little to no privacy and no chance of properly discussing this.

He smiled. “I know a place.”

[hhoneybre]

April 4, 2019

There’s something about being awake in the early mornings that I’ve always adored. When life is at its stillest, the calmest it can be at four in the morning when the majority of living creatures are asleep. There’s a serenity that’s not present at any other moment of the twenty-four hour day. It’s as if for a moment everything is in quiet agreement to simply exist without troubles. Without some innate need to put on a mask, to show each other their best faces. Not now. This is the hour of vulnerability.

I think there are a lot of things that shape people into who they are. The personality they were born with, their experiences, their morality. Whether they grew up in a tight-knit home, whether they were bullied during their early school years, their attachment styles. So many tiny little things to make up one person, as if humans weren’t complex enough as it is.

The clock reads half past four. This will just be a string of thoughts, memories, vulnerabilities.

I’ve always been empathetic. I didn’t understand it much as a child. All I knew was that my heart hurt whenever I saw my mother cry, and her tears always became my own.

My mother was never my favorite person, but to be fair, I was never hers.

Mommy issues. Much less talked about than daddy issues, with fewer jokes and even fewer people who truly understand it. I don’t want to go as far as calling them issues, but at the time they were.

At the time. What does that mean? Years ago? Childhood? Last year?

My mother is a kind being. I get a lot of what I consider to be my positive attributes from her. She has a wonderful laugh, a great sense of humor, and a gentle touch. I got her laughter, and her sense of giving. We are both detail-oriented people with a love for making care packages for those we love. She taught me to be selfless simply by example, and for that, I will always be grateful.

My mother is a kind being, and yet I grew up lacking love. She always favored my sister, just as my father always favored me, so I should have been happy. Two parents, two kids, each with their favorite. It’s simple math.

But the fact that my mother, one of the kindest people I know, didn’t show me the love and affection she showed my older sister cut me more deeply than I care to admit. I was just a child. What had I done wrong? What had I done to make this being of love, not love me?

That’s the thing about family. Love is expected. The reality of it is that people are people, and being bound by blood doesn’t guarantee anything besides years of forced get-togethers and expectations.

My mother loved me as best as she could. She provided for me, made me meals, did her best to instill good morals. As I grew older we clashed. I was full of resentment towards her that transformed into venomous accusations and stupid decisions. I blamed her for my constant need for affection. I didn’t get it from her, and so I looked elsewhere. I stayed out late, kissed people I shouldn’t have, acted out. The whole teenage rebellion phase with just a dash of lunacy that was driven by my self-hatred.

Because surely if this being of love couldn’t love me then no one ever would.

I was wrong, of course. My mother loved me in her own way, and I loved her in mine. It wasn’t until years later, when I was eighteen and finally understanding why things happened, that she apologized. She apologized for being a “cold” mother. For not embracing me the way she did my sister, for not reminding me that she loved me just as much.

Cold. That’s an odd way to put it.

At this point, I had accepted it. I wasn’t bitter anymore. I had made peace with it. But the apology was accepted nonetheless, and I gave her mine for having been such a troublesome child. There was a shift afterward that allowed us to co-exist. I have an appreciation for my mother that I wish I could explain more deeply but I don’t have the right words for it. She’s a wonderful person, with some off traits and attitudes that make us disagree from time to time, but I think her heart is always set in the right place. And that’s what matters.

The clock reads four fifty.

Sometimes I question whether I’m genuine. I know how I feel inside, how badly I want to be nothing but good, and how difficult that can be when my insecurities and traumas begin to cloud my thinking. Then again, blaming anything negative about myself on something like trauma seems like an excuse. And I have never been one to not own up to my own wrongdoings.

I wish I could say I’ve lived a life that I was nothing but proud of, but that’s unrealistic. I’ve done and said things I wish I could take back. I’ve lost friends, hurt loved ones. I don’t think I’m as good of a person as I make myself out to be.

So, is that why I feel so fake? Because of something I did when I was sixteen? Because of someone I hurt when I was just a child? Is it okay to say ‘no, that’s not who I am anymore’ and love myself? Or is that denying a part of me that’s less than good?

There’s a part of me that terrifies me. The one that feels anger, that lashes out when I’m feeling stressed or falling apart. I know how to hurt people. I know everyone’s insecurities and weaknesses because I’ve always been the person everyone turns to. The fact I’ve ever used those things to hurt anyone when I was angry makes my heart ache.

I can recall a few instances. Telling my mother she had no right to criticize my relationship when she stayed in one that no longer made her happy out of fear of being alone. Telling my ex that his idolization of his father was misplaced because the man was always absent and his disregard for his children was more than evident. Telling a friend that her need for constant attention from boys stemmed from her own vanity, that she was self-centered to the point she couldn’t care less if she hurt others as long as she was feeling good about herself at the end of the day.

My tongue is sharp sometimes and I wish I was mute.

I think I’m a bad person. I try my best to live a life of love. I’ve been doing so for years. But still, I feel as if I’m undeserving of love itself. Maybe that’s why I give it so easily. I feel unloved always. So I love in return.

I don’t want others to feel the way I do.

The funny thing about all this is that I’m completely aware that I’m being irrational. I’ve had plenty of conversations with people I love about the fact that people grow from their past. “Your past doesn’t define you” or “You’re not that person anymore” are things I’ve said more than once.

I never want people to hold onto past regrets. I think that’s toxic. So why can’t I apply any of that advice to myself? It’s always different when it comes to yourself, isn’t it?

The clock reads five minutes past five.

Do you ever think about the ocean? I do. All the time, actually. Just the other night I was thinking about how different the ocean is depending on the time of day.

If you go to the beach during the day, you get her playful side. You get the shimmering water that sunlight bounces off of. You get the laughter of kids as they play tag with the water as it kisses the shoreline. During the day, the ocean is a place. A setting. Somewhere people go to.

At night it’s a different story. The waters are dark, illuminated only by moonlight if you’re lucky enough to have a cloudless night. The water speaks then because you’ll hear her now. Her roars won’t be drowned out by the sound of laughter. Now is her turn to command, and I listen to her in quiet contemplation. Now she is a being of her own. We share intimacy.

Mothers, regrets, oceans. All things that are on my mind at five in the morning. I don’t think I’ll ever find sleep again.

The clock reads five twelve.

[kookienomster3]

I Want The Headline (Pt. 18)

Written By: suga-of-daegu BTS Fanfiction Angst WARNING: MATURE CONTENT Mafia/Gang

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Jungkook hadn’t questioned Yoongi’s orders, but by the scowl on his face, it was obvious he didn’t like being told what to do by him. Untangling his hand from Jimin’s collar, he pushed back his hair, kneading his sore jaw with his palm. Jungkook wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his sleeve, coming to stand between you and Yoongi. That man had touched you enough for a lifetime. He was grateful that he had corrected your shoulder and fingers, but in a short lapse in his fight with Jimin, Jungkook had seen Yoongi just staring at you.

And it unnerved him.

The way Jimin was suddenly scrambling towards the door had put Jungkook on edge too. Did Jimin work for Namjoon now? Had he quickly deflected to this new Yoongi? It seemed Jimin really wasn’t Jungkook’s friends. He had something to do with this whole thing. And Areum…

Jungkook thought Areum was different. She had seemed so genuine..or maybe he was just too distracted by her. She was a wonderful and thorough distraction from you, he could shamefully admit. He had almost forgotten about you, but when he had had a moment to breath without Areum down his throat, he remembered you.

But just as quickly as he remember, Jimin was whispering by his side, reminding him of how angry he was at you. And Jungkook had held onto that anger until the moment he came face to face with you.

Then that all fell away too and he only felt hollow for letting that happen to you. And he was scared that if he had waited a day or two more that you’d never come to him.

And you would have died thinking that he hated you.

He didn’t hate you. He was conflicted and so full of emotion over you, but he didn’t hate you. But he now knew that he hated Areum. She too had jumped at Yoongi’s words. She was in on this just as much as Jimin.

And Jungkook had been used like a fool; twice.

He found his gaze lowering to you. You had always seemed too good to be true. A part of him honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that you too worked for Yoongi. He frowned softly, deciding against it. The way you had looked at him when he had tenderly suggested that maybe you two could possibly have a family…

He didn’t want to believe that that kind of emotion could be faked. But if it could and you had..he had already admitted that he’d gladly die if you were the one killing him.

The green haired man only glanced at Jungkook, his eyes suddenly dropping down to you curiously. You frowned, looking away. He wasn’t Yoongi. He may have looked like him, but he wasn’t Yoongi. Jungkook found his pounding heart calming at the sight of you so untrusting of Yoongi. You had closed off every other person in the room and that only left him.

And that was the only way he wanted it to be.

“Let’s go.”

You and Jungkook both looked to Yoongi in confusion. Was he talking to you both? You stood up and Jungkook calmly stretched his arm out, keeping you behind him. Yoongi watched Areum and Jimin slip from the room before looking back to you both. “I was talking to you two as well..” He muttered. Still staring at him in confusion, Yoongi rolled his eyes, “I’m taking you back Y/N.” He saw Jungkook’s body stiffen and he shook his head, “Don’t get all antsy. You’re coming too.”

Jungkook glared,“Why would I do that?”

“Because Y/N is coming with me and so is Jimin.” Yoongi murmured, “And you’re scared he might find a way to be alone with her. And why would she be coming with me? "He taunted,"Because I know where Jin is at.” He went on further, the corners of his lips tilting up, “And why is all this happening right now? Because I need you.” Both men were surprised when you suddenly piped up with a stern,

“No.”

Yoongi’s curious stare was back,“Not you, Ju-”

“I know you meant Jungkook and the answer is no.” You explained, still half hidden behind Jungkook’s body. Yoongi peered over at you, a half amused grin crossing his lips at your sudden adamance. Your hands gripped Jungkook’s tightly, “You’ve got enough people, leave Jeon alone.” An odd gleam flickered in Yoongi’s eyes and he was suddenly grinning widely at Jungkook,

“Do you ever look at her..” He cooed, “And wonder why, if it’s coming from her mouth, it must be true?” He brightened at the imperceptible nod. “Or more importantly, anywhere is good as long as she’s there?” Jungkook whispered his soft agreement and Yoongi was looking back to you, snapping his fingers and waving you over. “Let’s go. Jin is waiting.”

You tugged on Jungkook’s sleeve, fully intending to explain to him that you needed to see your brother again, but that you’d be back soon. However, Jungkook only intertwined his fingers with yours, leading you out the door with Yoongi. You raised a brow; what was Jungkook doing?

“He’s right,” Jungkook whispered to you as you three headed towards the main doors. Yoongi shoved the door opened, quickly striding out and Jungkook had caught it before it slammed in your faces. It was dark outside, the streetlights, dimly lighting the streets. Yoongi was nodding to some car a little ways off and it started to move towards him. Maybe that was Jin. You excitedly looked to Jungkook.

His brows were furrowed and never had you seen Jungkook look so confused. “He’s just seen us together for maybe five minutes and he’s right about everything.” He kissed your temple, “Stay close to me. He’s dangerous and I don’t like the way he looks at you..” His lips slid lower, kissing the apple of your cheek, “I know you thought I was punishing you by keeping you in that room, but I wasn’t. I was punishing myself for even listening to Jimin’s words..” Jungkook sighed and rested his head against yours, “Just stay beside me and you’ll be perfectly safe. Only look at me and I’ll give you everything you need, I promise.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, suddenly eager to hug him and he leaned down, making it easier for you. You had missed this Jungkook. The one who was content with being beside you. This was the Jungkook you trusted wholeheartedly.

His fingers pressed into your skin, and you could feel his soft breaths on your neck. “I think I love you, Y/N.” he whispered. Your breath hitched, but he held onto you tighter. “I want to love you. I don’t know how you know when you’re in love or when that point even factors into anything, but if I get to fall in love at least once in my life, I want it to be you. I need it to be you.” He amended quietly, “I don’t want to get so attached to you and not love you. That’s just cruel.”

“I love you, Jeon.” You admitted, hearing his breath hitch. He had buried his face in your neck, unsure of what else to do. He was feeling overwhelmed and only knew that holding you stemmed his racing heart a bit. “So much that when you sent me to the room and didn’t come back and soon after Areum showed up..talking about you..and her..” He pulled back to look at you, avoiding his gaze, you stared at his shoulder, “Jimin was right..I was just so tired..”

His face contorted in anger. “Jimin is never righ-” Jimin didn’t know anything about you. Jimin’s name shouldn’t even be on your mind. He was irrational and delusional and thought that projecting his sick thoughts onto you was somehow helping you. You shook your head, blinking rapidly,

“If it was just him and me alone. I would’ve done it.” You breathed.“ Jimin gets to me so easily because he understands me. Jimin knows me better than myself.”

Jungkook honestly wanted to yell. Jimin didn’t know a thing about you. He made shit up up but worded it so convincingly that you thought he knew, but he didn’t. Jimin was just good at manipulating. Jungkook wanted to argue, but he could see that you did look tired. And he was tired of fighting with you. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calmly ask. “What about now? Do you still want to do that?”

“I’m selfish.” You mumbled, “I have you again. I don’t want anything else or to do anything else besides stay with you. That’s all I’ve wanted to do since I met you.”

And Jungkook loved that answer more than anything else.

The car had pulled up by Yoongi and while the green haired man had climbed in, the driver had jumped out. Jin stumbled slightly, but easily righted himself. You were finally out in the open and he could freely comfort you. You were back with him. Rushing towards you, calling out your name, he faltered when he saw you turn your mouth towards Jungkook’s ear and mumble something. Jungkook had looked a bit surprised, his eyes flickering to Jin for a moment and then he nodded to you. It wasn’t until that nod that you even looked in Jin’s direction. Jin stopped in his tracks as you then rushed towards him.

Were you asking Jungkook for permission?

Jin couldn’t keep the look of suspicion from his face when you had dove into his arms, crying into your brother’s chest in relief. He cradled you close, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook who was staring at him just as intently. Who did he think he was? Jin kissed the top of your head repeatedly. “Are you hurt? Let oppa see.” He tilted your head up towards his, eyes scanning over the minor scratches. They would be fairly easy to treat. “Ahh, I’ve been so worried for you Y/N.."He sighed, kissing your forehead. Too distracted by the utter relief of you being back with him, Jin was unaware of how your eyes had studied him. He was clean, a boot around his injured foot and this new ‘Yoongi’ had waved him over and he came without hesitation. You stared quietly up at him,

"I’ve been worried for you too..” You hummed, “But it looks like oppa’s been doing just fine.”

Jin smiled sheepishly, “I’ll have to explain later, we should get going.” His smiled dropped into a scowl when Jungkook walked by, slipping his fingers between yours and leading you away from Jin and to the backseat of the car. Gaping in disbelief, Jin completely missed Yoongi laughing from the front seat.

Slipping into the driver’s seat, Jin looked back to the three occupants stiffly seated. Dead center, Jungkook and his broad shoulders took up the most room. To his left, you were seated, staring out of the window and to Jungkook’s right was Jimin, who looked rather displeased at the seating arrangement. Jungkook himself was tense, but he kept his gaze on you, calm expression just watching you sit quietly. Jin felt uncomfortable.

He didn’t like the way he stared at you.

So, of course, he wasn’t too pleased when Jungkook leaned to you over lips parted in anticipation.

And of course, he didn’t like it when you tilted your head up to meet his mouth as if it was a normal occurrence.

And Jin solemnly realized that he had perhaps made an enemy in Jungkook. Next, to him, eyes glued to the same scene in the rearview mirror, Yoongi pensively watched an unreadable expression on his face. Anyone else seeing Yoongi’s face would think he was bored or even annoyed, but Jin knew him better than that. Jin knew that expression well and for Yoongi to be looking at his sister and Jungkook like that worried him.

Yoongi was curious.

But, of course, Jin didn’t know that Yoongi had been staring at you like that since he had met you.