#screaming crying sobbing sliding down the wall banging my fists on the floor

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

"Ready are you? What knows you of ready?" Mike spoke in a voice that was supposed be Yoda's.

Mike had been showing her his room; he was now showing her all of his toys. El gave him strange looks at his unusual voice. He continues in his normal voice.

"His name is Yoda. He can use the Force to move things with his mind, like this." Mike then quickly shoves all of the toys off the table.

"Whoosh!"

Eleven looks around and all sorts of items she had never seen before on Mike's dresser. Mike, had now moved on to his favorite dinosaur toy.

"This is my dinosaur, Rory. Look, he has a speaker in his mouth so he can roar." He turns to show her, only to realize she was now by his dresser and was looking closely at everything in curiosity. He put down Rory and joined her.

Eleven took note of all the things before her; what appeared to be a shiny gold woman with wings and many other figurines like it that stood on wooden platforms.

"Oh, these are all my science fair trophies. We got first every year. Except for last year when we got third. Mr. Clarke said it was totally political."

El smiled at one of the trophies that read HAWKINS MIDDLE SCHOOL TEAM PROBLEM SOLVING CHAMPIONS, next to it a picture with five kids all holding a large trophy. El recognized everyone. She smiled when she saw the only friend of Mike's that offered to help her; Y/n. He was standing in the middle, one hand holding the trophy, the other one was behind a smiling boy, two of his fingers sticking up making it look like the other boy had bunny ears.

El's smile fell when it dawned on her that she recognized the boy. She gasped silently, her mouth agape. Mike took note of this and watched her carefully as she slowly brought her finger to the picture. Mike watched as finger landed on his missing friend.

He looked back at her in shock. "You know Will?" She didn't say anything, her mouth still open and a very concerned look on her face.

"Did you see him? Last night? On the road?"

Before she could say anything, the loud noise of halting vehicle broke the silence. Mike quickly ran to his window in a panic, his mom was pulling up the driveway.

He ran back over to El.

"We gotta go."

He grabs her hand, yanks open his bedroom door, and drags her down the steps. He halts at the landing of stairs, staring in horror as his mom is at the front door, closing it behind her. Her youngest, Holly was in her arms, and so was her groceries. Before she could see anything, Mike ran back upstairs with El, as quickly and quietly as possible.

Karen Wheeler stopped in her tracks when she thought she heard someone upstairs.

"Ted? Is that you?" She calls out.

"Just me mom!" Mike yelled out frantically as he ran through the hallway.

"Mike? What are you doing home?"

"One second!" He brought El back into his room and lead her to his closet, not before closing his bedroom door.

"In here. I'll be right back, okay?" Mike instructed, slightly out of breath.

El stood rooted in place, fear in her eyes.

But Mike was frantic. "Please, you have to get in, or my mom, she'll find you. Do you understand?" El only looked at the closet, then back at Mike.

"I won't tell her about you. I promise."

"Promise?" She asked, clearly confused.

"It means something that you can't break. Ever." He explained quickly.

"Michael?" Mike's mom could be heard from downstairs.

They both looked to the door, then back at each other. "Please?" Mike pleaded.

El looks between Mike and the closet, unsure before walking inside, and turning to Mike. He quickly closed the door and she began to back up further into the closet, panic setting in.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Pop!"

Eleven struggles to break free from the men's hold as they carry her by her arms down, back into the room.

Sobs racked her body as she uses all her strength to turn and look back at Papa.

"Papa!" He steps out into the hallway and remains standing, doing nothing to help her, yet she still calls for him.

"Papa! No!" She screams her throat raw and her legs never stop kicking.

"Papa!"

They round the corner and at the end of the short hallway lays the dreaded room. The cold unwelcoming florescent light floods from the open door. Her resistance becomes stronger and more violent.

"No! No! No!"

Her screams become incoherent when the two men chuck her to the ground, she scrambles to feet in an attempt to stop the copper door from closing. Alas, she is too late for the steel door had slammed shut before her.

"Papa!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the cold copper.

"Papa!" She tries banging her fists, but to no avail.

"Papa! Papa! Papa!" Her screams turn to sobs.

"Papa."

She backs away from the door and retreats to the corner of the very small room where she tucked herself away. Her heart sinks to the floor with her, unable to do anything but curl up in a ball on the ice cold tile.

"Papa." She whimpers quietly.

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

Eleven backs up until her back hit the wall and she slides down till she is sitting on Mike's floor. She hugs her knees to her chest and allows her sobs to come.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"I just... I don't feel good." Mike was sat, hands folded together on his couch with his mother. He was giving her a false excuse of why he was at home during a school day.

"I woke up and my head, it really hurt bad, and my throat was all scratchy, and I wanted to tell you, but the last Tim's I told you I was sick you made me go to school anyway, and-"

"Michael."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not mad at you."

Mike was surprised to hear this from his mother.

"No?"

"No, of course not." She adjusted herself so that she was closer to her son, grabbed his hand in her's and sighed.

"All this that's been going on with Will, I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

Mike looks down to his lap, taking it in. No one had asked how he was doing with his best friend missing. It was hard. The whole party was worried. He never considered that and it was... refreshing to hear that his mother understood. He looked back at his mother as she continued.

"I just... I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I'm here for you. Okay?"

He nods his head. They both look up when they hear a soft thud from upstairs.

"Is there someone else here?" She asks.

Michael considers what his mom just told him. "No."

"Huh. Weird. Hey by the way, did you do something to my plant out front? It looks amazing!"

"Oh, that? Um, well, no that was Y/n."

"Really? Wow! That's incredible, he needs to tell me his secret. I could really use his help! Say, speaking of Y/n," she nudged her son, a teasing smirk on her face. "Anything going on between you two? Do you like him? Does he like you?" She asked, getting more excited with each question.

Mike's face scrunched up. "Ugh! Mom! He's just a friend! He's, like... my brother! How many times do I have to say that?" He whines.

"You're right, you're right! I'm sorry, my bad." She throws her hands up in surrender. "It's just... you two would be so cute toge-"

Mike stands up from the couch quickly. "Mom!" He interrupts, then sighs. "Thank you for understanding and letting me stay home, it means a lot, really. But I should probably go upstairs now and lay down, okay? Okay. Bye."

He runs upstairs before she can respond, leaving her sitting on the couch, in confusion.

"...Okay," she says to no one in particular.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Lucas, Dustin and I were biked to Mike's house to meet him there. Once we arrived, he quickly rushed us up to his room. El was sitting on Mike's bed, a blanket on her legs. I remain standing next to everyone else but I give El a smile and a wave. She timidly smiles and waves back.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lucas argued.

"Just listen to me." Mike began.

"You are out of your mind!"

"She knows about Will."

My head snaps up at the mention of him. "What?" I quickly look to El and then back at Mike, my eyes wide.

"What do you mean she knows about Will?" Dustin asks for me.

Mike took a few steps towards his dresser and picked up the picture of all five of us at the science fair.

"She pointed at him, at his picture. She knew he was missing. I could tell."

"You could tell?"

"Just think about it. Do you really think it was a coincidence that we found her on Mirkwood, the same place that Will disappeared?"

"That is weird." Dustin agreed.

I turned and slowly walked over to El, cautiously taking a seat next to her, but still giving her enough space. "Is that true?" I ask in a gentle whisper. She looked me in the eye and gulped, and ever so slightly nodded her head 'yes'.

I chuckle in disbelief and look at the boys hopefully.

"And she said bad people are after her. I think that maybe these bad people are the same ones who took Will."

"Guys, think about it. I think he's right. I think she might know what happened to him." I speak up, hope in my voice.

"Then why doesn't she tell us?"

"Well, maybe she's scared of you two!" I accuse.

"Why should she be scared? I'm tired of this." He walks straight over to her and starts raising his voice.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Lucas..." I warn, my hands subconsciously ball into a fist in anger.

Suddenly he grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her and begins yelling in her face. "Do you know where Will is?"

"LUCAS!" I bark. Standing up immediately, I rip his arms of her, she's cowering in fear. "Dammit man, get your hands off of her! And you wonder why she's scared," I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"She should be scared! If you know where he is, tell us!" She doesn't say anything and she bites her lip trying not to cry. "Lucas! Listen to me. I know you're scared and worried about Will, okay? We all are, but we have to be patient okay? She's scared, she's lost, she probably doesn't know who to trust, we just need to be kind to her alright?" I plead.

"Ya know what? No. There's no time. This is nuts. We have to take her to your mom." He says turning back to Mike.

"No! Eleven said telling any adult would put us in danger." Mike argues.

For the first time in a while, Dustin spoke up, his voice soft.

"What kind of danger?"

"Her name is Eleven?" Lucas asks.

"El for short." Mike corrected casually.

"Mike, what kind of danger?" Lucas pressed, his voice grew significantly louder.

"Danger danger," Mike yelled back.

I look around, breathing heavily as I take everything in. Mike puts his hand up to my brother's forehead in the shape of a gun. Then the same to Lucas. Lucas swats away Mike's hand almost immediately.

Lucas begins to panic. "No, no, no! We're going back to plan A. We're telling your mom."

I try to grab his arm as he stomps towards the door, but he shoves my hand away. He rips open the door, only for the door to be slammed shut all on it's own, making everything around the room shake. We all stare at the door in confusion. He tries it again, but the door continues to slam shut. Then, we all see the lock turn by itself.

'Okay, well... I know I didn't imagine that.'

Simultaneously, we all turn to El to find her standing, blood dripping from her nose giving Lucas quite possibly the sharpest glare I have ever seen.

"No." She states firmly. It's enough to send a chill down my spine.

It's silent for a few moments and I breathe out a shocked chuckle. "That... was the coolest thing I have ever seen."

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Kaz Brekker x Reader - Your What?! Part 1/2 (Soulmate au)

A/n: So I can't believe I'm doing this but... This a soulmate au! With Kaz fucking Brekker! I'm just going to cry in the corner now... I also decided to split this into two parts, so part 2 will be out tomorrow!

Warnings: language, mentions of trauma, mentions of the menagerie, mentions of death, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: You and the crows are on a mission and your soulmate mark starts burning

All rights go to Leigh Bardugo, Netflix, and you! I just own the plot!

Soulmates are the bane of my existence.

You can say otherwise, tell me that I live in a wonderful world to have a chance to even meet my true love or whatever. Personally, I think it's bullshit.

Come on! Most people probably don't even meet their soulmate because the whole system is stupid! Maybe it was different billions of years ago when people couldn't have the same initials but now it's not about the initials.

It's about the pain.

Knowing the initials is just a slight sign to help you along your journey. The pain where those initials are is what it really is.

When your soulmate is hurt or in danger you mark will burn. Depending on the level of how much pain or danger they will be in it could feel like a mosquito bite... Or feel like your getting stabbed multiple times.

In my opinion well really... I don't give two fucks about it. It is what it is but the worst part about soulmate marks is when the person dies.

So when your soulmate is going to die, or is VERY close to death your soulmate mark fill start to flicker. Apparently it's worse then the normal pain you face with soulmates. When the person dies though...

In the case that your soulmate dies, the mark will slowly fade away causing you excruciating pain that could last YEARS. (Dramatic I know.)

That's what I used to think anyways.

When my sister finally escaped the menagerie I was ecstatic, but then she got dragged into the whole 'ice court heist,' so that was fun. In the time that everything happened I eventually got dragged down with her when Ketterdam was on lock down looking for criminals.

Then I found my soulmate.

Kaz fucking Brekker. Or Kaz Rietveld would be more correct, I guess.

After the whole heist was finally over we decided that fine, we could bond and we did. Being us, we didn't tell anyone not to stir up trouble, (we both had enemies) and because Inej Ghafa was my sister. Her and the others would be very protective of me.

Not like they can stop me though.

"Y/n." I snapped my head to look up to Kaz and he raise's an eyebrow at me.

"Don't kill Pekka." I roll my eyes at him. Since Kaz did tell me about his past I told him if he wouldn't kill Pekka I would.

Or at least his son.

I sigh. "Fine but don't expect me to give him a fucking birthday present."

"I never said you had too." Kaz says blankly and I almost grit my teeth together at the thought of Kaz having no emotions. Wow, people really don't know him. Though I guess that's the point.

The Crows and I start walking towards the warehouse-club and Kaz walks with me step by step. That must means he's worried because most times he doesn't even look at me when we're on a job to not show weakness.

Shit.

I brush my hand quickly up against Kaz's gloved ones and I give him a nod.

A promise.

A promise to make it out alive as long as he does. I step back and lower my pace so I'm not leading with Kaz anymore and I fall into pace with Inej and Nina.

My mind goes to when Kaz found out I was his soulmate. I had found out on when he went on a mission one time and I just... Didn't tell him.

*Flashback*

The walls of the Crow club all the sudden become suffocating as I stare intently at Kaz. I spin on my heels and dash out the doors tears filling my eyes. I don't even know where I'm running, I just needed to escape out of the Crow Club.

I need to escape the disappointment.

I slide down onto the wall of the alleyway feeling like a fool. How could I have ever thought someone like Kaz could love me. Regardless of the soulmate mark he didn't even know about.

I sense a someone is in front of me and I go to lift my head up and a man has me at gun point. I go to grab my knives. Shit. I curse every saint ever in existence. They aren't there. I don't even have a gun.

Bare fists I guess it is for me.

We turn in a circle and he clicks the safety off his gun and in a split second I duck when I hear a short, boom!

I growl in pain as a bullet goes through my shoulder and he goes to shoot again and...

BANG!

The man drops dead to the floor.

I turn around and behind me is Kaz holding a gun, but his face is in pain and worry is there as well, spread across his face more plainly then I had ever seen before.

"Your my soulmate." He mutters and I barely hear it. My chest heaves and I just nod my head not being able to speak.

He come's over and pause's right in front of me, just a foot away. Slowly, he takes off his gloves and he nervously takes my hand and laces our fingers together.

Then we start walking back to the Crow Club.

To a new future. Together.

*Flashback over*

"What do you even have against Pekka Rollins anyways, Y/n?" Inej questions me as we speed-walk to the warehouse where some Dime Lions are stirring up trouble.

My brain scrabbles to put something together but I have always been a efficient liar. No offense to my sister she's fantastic at what she does, but lying had never really been her thing.

"Rollins is a barrel boss." I shrug my shoulders seemingly uncaring even though there is so much more layers to it. But I guess I'm not lying.

Yet.

"So is Kaz." Nina points out but I already planed for that response.

"And we're dregs. Pekka is a big barrel boss, he scares off people from coming to the dregs. It's a problem and it's getting on our ass's." I grumble.

"I didn't know it mattered to you that much." Inej states. I wanted to scream in her face. He killed Kaz's brother! He almost killed Kaz! He creates monsters where ever he goes and tries to control them like caged lab rats! But I couldn't do that, so furiously I snap at her.

"Well it should to me, it's my job."

Nina and my sister both look at me weirdly, oh crap. They don't know I have basically the same authority as Kaz. Fuck.

*Flashback*

"Why give me a promotion? Isn't there other people who could use it? Who would do better than me?" I ask Kaz as he goes through the papers on his desk.

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it." He looks up to me and starts to get out of his desk. He goes to the door but before he can open it I grab his arm.

"I basically have the same power over the dregs that you do. I don't think that's a good thing."

Kaz just shrugs his shoulders and opens the door.

"What's a king without his queen Y/n?"

*Flashback over*

"Wait what?" Nina asks confused.

At least it goes off the topic of me hating Pekka Rollins with everything I have. Internally I sigh at my foolishness, I had only accepted Kaz's request recently, so no one really knew who was helping him out all the time.

*Flashback*

"Nemesis." The man whispers as I circle around him using the blinding light and the darkness to my advantage.

"Yes, and I get to decide if you live or die. Tell me, did you kill that little girl - Oh what was her name? Sarah was it?" I say loudly my voice confident and dangerous.

"No-no!" The sleaze ball yells and I throw one of my knives at his hand. The knife goes through his hand sticking it to the wall. The man screams out in pain.

"Liar." I hiss.

"Fine! Fine! I killed her!" He manages to scream out. "I killed her." He sobs as he says those three words again.

"Good." I say as I secretly pull a knife out behind my back into my right hand.

"I will grant you mercy." I whisper into his ear.

"Oh thank you!" The man sobs. "Thank you!"

I quickly slit his throat and he chokes on his blood for a few second and horror frames his face, before he falls to the ground.

Dead.

I hear a click of a cane and I whip my head around to face the one and only Dirtyhands.

"You know killing him was accepting my offer, right?"

"I know." I don't have to look at him to know a small smile that has become reversed for me, is sitting on his face.

Then I remember what he said to me when he first gave the offer. I turn to face him as I try to hide my smirk, and I look at him right in the eye.

"My Crow king."

And I turned and walk away.

*Flashback over*

"Well-" I start to say but I'm cut off from Jesper's very excited 'we're here!' Thank the saints though, because it gives me time to escape they're questions for now.

"You all know the plan."

Nina puts her hands on her hips. "Only the parts you deem important enough for us to know."

I nearly snort and a small smile grace's my lips. They really have no idea, well obviously some idea being that the ice court heist existed.

Kaz rolls his eyes and makes a go motion.

Inej goes to slip through the shadows but before she's totally gone I make eye contact with her before she leaves. It clearly says our conversation is not over and stay safe.

I suck in a breath, I always hate it when I have to say goodbye to anyone. Especially when that some person could die.

Running over to back of the warehouse, I pull my hood up trying to be the most concealed that I can be.

Wylan is going with Jesper to go make a distraction so they'll be going through the front doors. Nina will be going to go flirt to go get some extra info, perhaps steal some things on the way and wiggle her way into the top floor where the Dime Lions are. Matthias and Kaz will be going together with them posing as the warehouse-club guards. Inej will be going through the roof, while I'll be going through the back.

In the end everyone will get to the top floor so we can exterminate some Dime Lions, and get into the vault where a whole bunch of kruge is. Hopefully there will be enough so I can put my share's with Inej's so she can get that upgrade on her boat that she needs. It's not like I'm going to use the money to do anything useful, she deserved it and plus I intended to stay with this city.

I silently slide sneakily into the window, coming out of the other end with a knife in my hands. If I have learned one thing from living in Ketterdam, it's that you can never be too prepared.

I stay close to the wall as I see someone roll down the rope-ladder. I grin to myself,

Right on time Inej.

I climb up the ladder without fear of falling down even if the ladder was just made out of rope. I get to the top and Inej offers me a hand and I take it.

The top floor is basically empty except for some Dime Lions henchmen that are laying around, dead or knocked out.

Then, I guess there is also the vault full of kruge.

I look around the room everyone is here except for-

Kaz.

"Where's Kaz?"

Matthias looks a bit uncomfortable and guilty as he shifts nervously on his two feet.

"He said he had to take care of something and to just go."

I sigh, well I know he isn't in danger... Yet. My heart is screaming for me to go after him, but it wouldn't look good for Dirtyhands or Nemesis. Knowing Kaz he's probably fine, he would just want me to open this vault I guess.

The fact that my soulmate mark isn't burning is probably also a clear sign that he's fine.

Get yourself together Y/n.

"Can we open the vault without him?"

The others look mildly surprised at my response (excluding Nina, and my sister).

"You might be able to do it, your one of the best lock pickers there is. Only second to Brekker." Nina states.

I bit my lip and start to walk over to the vault. I let my hand fall over the lock. I let it feel the certain gears and the parts that make up the lock.

The shank of the lock would be easy enough to undo with some man strength to help pull that open. Though that would be the last step - I need to stop thinking too far ahead.

It's a very simple lock that any petty thief could probably do in 32 seconds flat. Besides the fact that it was absolutely ginormous to fit over a fucking vault.

"Inej I'm going to need some help!" I yell across the room to my sister who is in the shadows on a look out, to make sure no ones coming here.

She comes and strolls over to stand beside me. I put my hand up the lock, and I grab one bar and I move it to the side but I hold it there with my hands.

"Can you find the bar to the left and pull it up once?"

Inej does and I hear a huge click! ring through the room.

"We should wait for Kaz till we open it." Inej states and I nod my head in agreement.

"So while we wait." Nina start's talking... Oh no, that can't be good. "We should maybe share the fact that Y/n is Kaz's second hand!"

Angry courses of what! come throughout the room.

"The fuck does Kaz think with putting you in all that danger!" Jesper yells and I see Matthias nod along with him.

"I'm already in danger most of the times I'm Inej's sister!"

"You should have told us!" Nina shoots back.

"You guys are really talking about this while were on a heist!" I shoot back.

My soulmate mark starts to tingle a bit but I ignore it, being that this conversation will most likely take a lot of energy.

"It still puts you in unnecessary danger." Inej and Wylan point out.

Fury rakes through my body. Who are they to tell me that's it's 'dangerous'?! I live in fucking Ketterdam!

"I don't know if you haven't noticed, but I'm not a doll! I can take care of myself! And you can't say anything because 60% percent of you guys don't even fucki- Ahhh!" A string of curse leave my mouth as I collapse against the vault.

"Y/n!"

To be continued...

Words 2480

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace

[belovedholland]

in your arms has me, screaming, shitting, crying, throwing up, rolling on the floor, biting my sheets, pissing, sliding down the wall, shaking, sobbing, banging my head on the wall, yelling, balling my fist, slowly scratching my face, fighting air, staring at the ceiling, frowning, suffocating myself, slamming doors, staring off in space, shaking head, kicking the wall, angrily shaking in bed, punching wall, breaking mirrors, crying again, screaming again, throwing up again, sliding down the wall again

Thank you

I legit wrote that blurb at 1 am and it only took me like 40 minutes

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part III

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful. 

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: Did you forget about this series? I wouldn’t blame ya LOL Please drop a comment if you’d like to be part of the tag list! 😚 

PART I  || PART II 

PART III of X

Translations + Transliteration детская сестра/detskaya sestra - Baby sister

Count: 2528

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“You should eat.”

Wanda ignores you as she sits on the couch, looking at the wall. She knows she looks thin, Natasha often points it out along with her dark circles that have seemed to find a permanent home underneath her eyes. Your words seem to pass right through Wanda as she never acknowledges what you say. Even though she wants you to know she doesn’t want you here, she stays silent.

“Your body will become weak from the lack of nutrients, and if you grow weak, I doubt you’ll have the energy to tell me—”

“Stop!” Wanda angrily yells. It’s the most life she’s shown in the weeks.

You’re caught mid-sentence as you sit still next to her, biting your lip.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” you finally say, and Wanda has to screw her eyes shut.

Because she knows that you didn’t mean to. 

This ugly feeling that festers within her and poor behavior was something she would’ve never shown a year ago. 

But a year ago, everything was different.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Alone again, huh?”

Wanda looks up to see Pietro leaning against the tree as he peers over to her. Her fork stops mid-air to her mouth as she looks back at him.

“I’m not alone,” she grins, “you’re here.”

Pietro just laughs as he takes a seat next to her, stealing some of her food.

“Hey!” Wanda pouts but doesn’t stop her brother.

“You know everyone was scared of you at first, right?” Pietro says while chewing.

Wanda merely shrugs.

“I don’t mind.”

“You should, it can get pretty lonely,” Pietro leans back against the tree bark, absently thinking about how it scratches lightly against his back.

“It’s not lonely. I have you,” Wanda repeats, but Pietro just laughs and shakes his head. He turns to his younger twin, ruffling her hair while she scowls.

“I want you to surrounded by people, детская сестра,” Pietro tells her, and he can feel Wanda tense at the thought of having to go and meet people. “I’ll bring people to you, we can share our circle of friends.”

Wanda relaxes her shoulders and smiles at Pietro before going back to eat her food, but her brother pulls her cheek while she whines.

“We will always be family, so don’t ever say no to anyone’s kindness for me.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Such a stupid memory.

But nonetheless, Wanda felt the burn.

“What do you want to know?” Wanda sighs, and you lick your lips. You pause momentarily because you’re not expecting it, but you resume getting the glass of water for Wanda. 

The floor feels cold as you slide your feet across the wooden tiles, absently feeling the dents and bumps that occasionally come across.

“Why do you want to die?”

The question comes abruptly, making Wanda tense. You hadn’t said a thing about that night until now, and Wanda doesn’t bring up why she was about to jump off the bridge.

But Wanda forces her shoulders to lower as you hand her the glass, Wanda looked over to the empty seat, and you take the gesture and sit down next to her.

The glass is cold, Wanda notices. It has ice in it just the way she likes, and she sighs.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was a celebratory party, might be one of the happiest nights of Wanda’s life. She had sold her first painting for twenty grand.

Everyone was gathered at her home.

Well, the people who mattered.

Pietro, Natasha, Steve, and Clint.

Everyone was pouring her drinks and clinking glasses with her. 

Wanda had worked so hard, holed up in her room slaving over her work of art, she didn’t even have time to see Pietro. 

So, it was nice to finally get to see everyone again. The night was coming to an end, and everyone left, leaving just the two siblings.

“Let’s go to the bridge,” Wanda says suddenly.

Pietro opens his tired but happy eyes.

“What? No way, it’s so late,” he says even though he grins.

“C’mon,” Wanda whines, “It’s been forever since we’ve been there. It’s basically tradition go there whenever anything happens.”

“Ugh, but I’m so tired,” Pietro whines back at her, slouching more into the couch. Wanda pushes him, and he laughs.

“Alright, alright, let’s go, детская сестра,” Pietro pulls himself up, stretching and groaning as he did. He grabs his leather jacket and winks at her.

The drive always feels a little far, but Wanda never minds because she uses the time to catch up with what’s been going on in Pietro’s life. 

To think her spunky brother grew up and went into marketing. Though, she supposed it fit him.

Pietro was telling her something about work. It was mundane but so exciting to him, and he was rambling. 

They’re crossing an intersection, and suddenly everything is spinning, and glass is shattering. She barely registers an arm over her, protecting her head.

Everything hurts.

She feels a hot liquid dripping down the side of her head. She barely opens her eyes to see everything is upside down, and there’s smoke. 

Then everything is black. 

When she wakes up, she’s in a hospital room, all patched up. The color of the white walls and blinding lights hurt her eyes. 

Natasha and Steve are beside her. Natasha, who never cries, is crying, and Steve can’t even look her in the eyes while his eyes are bloodshot.

And she learns that Pietro died before the ambulance arrived.

But all she can feel is the ghost of his hand protecting her head.

That’s where everything ended.

Wanda locks herself in her room, gripping Pietro’s jacket because that’s all she has left.

Clint helps take care of the funeral because Wanda can’t seem to get it together. 

There’s a repeating thought about how does everything end in one moment? One split second, and her whole crumbles underneath her feet, and she didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

“Wanda, please, come out!” Steve shouts through the door, banging on it to try to get her to come out until Natasha touches his shoulder. He turns around to see that her eyes are still red, and he clenches his jaw. 

The two of them turn their back to the door, sliding to the ground, crying for Wanda on the other side.

“I’m sorry, Wanda,” Natasha says to the silence.

Wanda clenches her jaw because they don’t understand.

They don’t know how she begged and bothered Pietro to take her to the bridge.

If only she hadn’t asked.

If she hadn’t asked, then they wouldn’t have been out there. 

Pietro wouldn’t have been too tired to notice he was running a red light, and their car wouldn’t have been hit by a truck. 

And she wouldn’t be here, clutching his leather jacket and crying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda stares at the ceiling, bitterly recalling the day everything changed for her. She’s gripping her glass of water so hard, her knuckles are turning white. You bite your lip because the tears won’t stop falling. 

You can’t think of anything to say except what you’re sure everyone else has already said to Wanda.

“It wasn’t your fau--”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Wanda cuts in, her grip tightening even more.

“Do you blame yourself?” You ask instead.

“Of course,” Wanda sneers, “if I hadn’t made him go, he’d...”

Wanda can’t even say it out loud.

“You can’t make Pietro do anything,” you say before adding, “from what it sounds like.”

Natasha and Steve spend time describing Pietro to you while avoiding why Wanda is cannot move on.

Wanda bites her tongue, but the grip on her glass stays in a vice.

“If Pietro was truly too tired to take you, then he should’ve stood his ground--”

And suddenly, Wanda stands and throws the glass cup across the room, shattering it against the wall as the tiny pieces fall to the ground, water staining the rug underneath. 

“Are you trying to say it’s his fault?!” She screams at you half in disbelief and half in anger.

“No,” you say after a moment of silence. “I want you to see that there’s no point in blaming yourself.”

“Why? Because you think my brother does whatever it wants without listening to others?” Wanda jeers, her eyes glaring at you.

“If you want to put it so simply, then sure,” you shrug as you stand to face her. 

“What would you know about him?” She scoffs. 

“Perhaps nothing,” you nod your head at her, “but here’s the harsh truth: you are alive.”

Tears immediately spring to Wanda’s eyes because she’s painfully aware of the fact that she’s alive, and Pietro is not.

“If you want to blame yourself, fine,” you relent, “but figure out how to forgive yourself and move on.”

“Fuck you!” Wanda screams at you. Your words are cutting, and Wanda doesn’t understand you at all. She chokes on a sob, and your face softens. You can see how the guilt is eating Wanda alive, and you pull her into your arms.

She’s fighting you immediately, pushing and struggling, but you hold on.

“Let go!”

Wanda is confused as to why you don’t listen. She doesn’t understand how your arms are so warm and the compassion you manage to convey.

“Stop!”

She doesn’t want this.

She doesn’t want forgiveness or compassion. She wants to be punished.

Wanda hisses, pushing more against you, fighting against the hug.

“If you can’t forgive yourself yet, then that’s okay too. But please stop hurting alone.”

Wanda’s crying and fisting your shirt. For a moment, you’re unsure if she’s going to rip your shirt and claw at your back to let go, but then you feel her hot tears soak your shoulders. Her palm spreads against your back, and she’s limp in your arms, shuddering when you tighten your embrace.

“Let me be here too,” you whisper in her ear.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“Sorry about the glass.”

You hear the small apology as you’re picking up the pieces of glasses on the floor. You’re going to need to find a sweep. 

You turn to her and smile, “It’s fine. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

Wanda watches from the couch, voicing a soft, “No.”

A part of her feels embarrassed for falling apart in your arms, but you don’t seem to think anything of it. 

She watches as you pause while cleaning.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks, mildly concerned.

You don’t turn around immediately, but then you clear your throat and stand up with your hands casually in your pocket.

“Yeah, I just realize it’s probably better if I just sweep up the glass. You’ve got a broom in your kitchen closet, right? I’ll be right back.”

When you leave the room, Wanda gets up and walks over to the mess she’s made and sees just a tiny drop of blood on one of the broken pieces.

You were clearly hurt, so why would you lie about it to her? It’s normal for friends and family to lie about such things, but a stranger?

She stares at the broken glass piece, stained with your wound.

And something stirs within Wanda’s chest, uncomfortable and tight. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“This is really unnecessary.”

The two of you sit together at her dining table, with her at the head and you right next to her. You’ve reheated the food, the various dishes spread around as you stare at her.

“We can’t leave this table until you eat,” you say with no inflection in your voice.

“That seems rather forceful,” Wanda grumbles.

“It wouldn’t be if you just ate. C’mon, I had to go to four different groceries to get the stuff to make that dish,” you pout a little, and Wanda looks over to you.

She looks at your poorly bandaged hand and thought to earlier about how you merely waved her off, saying you nicked yourself cooking.

Another lie. 

And the familiar feeling of tightness in her chest comes with a new sense of gratitude.

The feeling is entirely small, but it’s still there.

Wanda glances at you and moves to scoop some food onto her spoon. The metal clanks clumsily against her teeth, the metal sliding against her tongue as she gets the initial taste of the food. It’s almost hard to swallow because there’s a warmth within her stomach, hitting her in the back of the throat. 

You smile, watching Wanda eat, repeated motions of scooping food on her spoon and putting it in her mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, looking at your own bowl.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You’re sitting on the couch, watching some TV show, and eating candy when Wanda appears with a First Aid kit.

“Did you disinfect it?” She asks as she sits down, pointing to your cut.

You look at your hand.

“Mm…I ran it under the water?” You tilt your head.

You hear Wanda huff a little, and you almost smile.

“Let me see it,” She huffs.

“It’s okay, reall—”

“Give. Me. Your. Hand.”

You pause momentarily before you offer the wounded appendage.

The cut is deep.

She carefully unwraps the bandage, frowning when she sees the cut. She opens the kit and grabs a Q-Tip and the disinfectant.

The first initial touch has you hissing and curling your fingers a little. Wanda doesn’t say anything and blows lightly. When she’s satisfied with her work, she starts to re-bandage it.

“What if you got tetanus? See how much time you wasted lying you weren’t hurt?” Wanda says, tone almost as if she were scolding you.

You laugh, “Well, I wouldn’t call it a waste. If I somehow got tetanus from glass, I’ll certainly have experienced something new.”

The words make Wanda’s jaw clench, the words ringing in her ears.

“Nothing is a waste of your time, Wanda. If anything, at least you’ve experienced something new.”

She finishes wrapping the bandage cleanly, clearly much better than you.

Wanda looks at you as you’re watching the TV again, not even aware how your words always seem to painfully ring in her ears.

“Nothing is a waste of your time, Wanda. If anything, at least you’ve experienced something new.”

It’s still a waste, isn’t it?

Why does she even need to experience something new?

You seem to notice Wanda staring and turn your head to her. Even though she’s been blatantly caught staring, Wanda doesn’t care. She watches your eyes travel down at the bag of candy you’re eating, making a momentary pout before offering her some. 

More stupid things that Pietro has said like, “You’re only you, and I’m only me. I’ll always be here for you, so don’t ever think twice about asking for help,” and “We will always be family, so don’t ever say no to anyone’s kindness for me.”

She thinks back to the funeral, where she was couched over her twin brother’s still body, crying and begging for help. Fingers digging into her own palm, ears ringing, and breath shaking, she asks you, “Why me? Why are you doing this?”

Still offering your candy, you tilt your head at Wanda.

“My kindness is the only thing I have to offer, so why not you?”

PART IV

[hiddenhistoria]

Find the word tag VIII

Tagged by @zmlorenz and @sleepyowlwrites, thank you both! My words are: flower, friend, fragrance, fun, free/ air, break, clear, danger, and excite/ suspect, sick, safe, and solid. As always, snippets from These Cursed Paths.

Flower

She makes towards the kitchen, feet soundless, hand reaching for her gun. The parsen is still on the set table, waiting to be feasted upon. She looks away, ignoring the pang of her chest, and focuses on the task at hand. No intruders here, either. Jehona figures they must be watching the entrances. 

And she is right. 

Another Kairanese girl has made base in the living room, facing the front door. She doesn’t hesitate. The girl slumps much like her companion outside. Jehona sweeps through the rest of the house with the same efficiency, finding two more girls, one in each bedroom. Only the last one, a Kairanese that must have been Rumaysa’s age, is vigilant enough to sense her coming into her room and put up a fight. Jehona breaks the only flower vase she owns over the girl’s head. She makes a mental note to replace it and the wilting flowers that have fluttered to the ground before Rumaysa finds out.

Chapter 8

Friend

Another shot pings on the cobblestones. Rumaysa bites her lip to stop from making any noise. Her leg shakes from the strain and she leans against the wall of a building, moving at a crawling pace. Rounding the corner, she drags herself along the wall. Even her head fails her, her eyesight going blurry as she slides down, sitting on the road, the yielding a reprieve for her battered body. Everything hurts: her leg, her shoulder, her hands. The crutches escape her grip, clanging as they hit the ground. 

“Who’s there?”

Rumaysa starts, hope blooming in her chest. She knows that voice, the cold uninterested timbre it adapts with strangers. Her eyes, which she didn’t even realize had slid closed of their own volition, fly open. “Jehona?”

And it is indeed her best friend rushing towards her, brown locks flying with the wind, voice frantic. “Rumaysa?” She crouches down in front of her, placing blessedly cool hands on her flaming cheeks. “Are you hurt? What are you even doing here?” Jehona’s eyes do a sweep of her sprawled body, the brown dark with worry and panic.

Chapter 5

Fun

“Can you even worry?” he snips back.

She shrugs. “If I try hard enough. Now, I’ll operate under the assumption that you actually got some information to share with the class—” Hideyoshi nods. “—so we’ll retreat for tonight. I doubt we’d be able to go out again, either way, what with the uproar you’ve caused.”

“That would be advisable,” the gargantuan remarks, pulling a miraculously clean kerchief from somewhere on his person to wipe at his face. “I’d also advise you against wearing that cloak next time we go in. You’ve made an enemy.”

Jehona turns on her heel, leading them back. “All in a day’s work, Hideyoshi,” she throws over her shoulder.

“Of course she’s flippant about it,” he mutters under his breath and she smirks to herself. He’ll make her life hard and, in turn, she’ll make his life hard. Thankfully, riling the gargantuan up is fun.

Chapter 10

(Hideyona, Hideyona!)

Free

“Pity,” she laments, circling again to find the girl’s fingers. “Your poor friend will have a hard time wielding a sword with nine fingers. That is, of course, if she doesn’t contract an infection first and die. I haven’t cleaned this basement in ages.”

The subject of her attention whimpers and Jehona is reminded just how much she absolutely hates her job. She drives one more proverbial knife in. 

“If you want to blame someone sweetie, let it be your friend, who keeps her silence while you are threatened.” Jehona unfolds the girl’s fist gently and the girl sobs. 

That seems to do the trick. “No, wait! Wait! We don’t know! We don’t know, I swear!” The leader all but screams.

Jehona circles back to meet her eyes. “You don’t know?”

“I swear on my life we don’t. That is information shared on a need-to-know basis and we don’t need to know,” the girl reasons. “For this reason exactly, if nothing else.”

She accepts the explanation with a sigh. It makes sense. These girls are just grunts come to kill her. And she doesn’t have any more time to waste with them. 

Jehona sets the dagger on the floor about two meters from the girls, hilt facing them. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” She looks at the tear-faced girl. “You scared your poor friend for nothing. I have to go now. Use this—“ she points to the blade, “—to free yourselves. And do try, please. I’m not keen on coming back to four rotting corpses in my basement. Have a good day, ladies.”

With that, she walks out.

Chapter 8

Air

He smiles at the soldiers. “At ease, Wolves. Mirmengsi to all of you.” 

“Section Commander, sir.” Erisa appears at his elbow and salutes. She’s a tiny woman, barely reaching his shoulder, always shrouded in an air of seriousness that he can’t disperse no matter how many stupid jokes he cracks. Even Jehona hasn’t resisted that long in her more serious moments. The two four-pointed stars on her left breast catch the morning light as she faces him.

“Major Arlet, good morning,” Klevis greets, turning on his heel and motioning her to follow. He’s aware of the eyes that closely follow their movements. There’s an ongoing rumor about the nature of his relationship with Erisa, which has now turned into wishful thinking on the Wolves’ part since neither one of them has done anything to encourage the rumor. They’re just a bunch of romantic fools, in his opinion. And they’re going to have to wait a while longer to see a romance blossom between him and her, given he’s aromantic and Erisa is done with his shit. The only pro to the rumor is watching the serious facade crack a little more each time a pair of eyebrows is wagged in their direction. Coincidentally, that is also the only con.

Chapter 11

Break + Clear

She rolls her eyes. “Not in Hideyoshi’s presence, Maysa.”

“Why not?” he protests with narrowed eyes. Jehona likes to think he can feel the jab she’s about to send his way.

“Because,” she starts slowly like she’s talking to a toddler, “in order to explain, I’d need to break the law. I fear you’d faint at such a transgression and, as you can clearly see—” Jehona gestures to the black lump in her lap, “—I can’t move fast enough to catch you, darling.”

He glowers and Maysa snorts, all worry for Klev momentarily forgotten, alongside inquires about RT’s powers. Jehona is too good at this. Hideyoshi stops in front of her chair, impossibly tall from this angle. And, honestly, every angle she can reach at 1.65m. “Even if that were the case, you couldn’t possibly carry me, chīsame no yatsu.” 

She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Say that last bit in Lukovian, coward.”

He leans down, resting his hands on the table. They’re practically nose to nose. “E vockël.”

Jehona gasps and, from somewhere behind Hideyoshi, Rumaysa snorts. Some best friend she is, laughing when an asshole calls her ‘little one’. Even RT wears an amused smile at that. Klev really found the day to abandon her. “Why don’t I shoot you and then we’ll find out if I can or can’t carry you, you abominable shit giraffe?”

“Can an ant carry a giraffe?”

She scowls. “If the ant tears it to pieces first, it sure as fuck can.”

Hideyoshi straightens with such a saccharine smile, her teeth hurt. “Why so irritable, chīsame no yatsu?”

“Listen here, you uncivilized dickheaded gargantuan,” she starts, ready to inflict bodily harm. Luck, however, seems to favor him as the door slams open at that moment with a bang that has RT starting and Rumaysa glowering.

Chapter 12

(HIDEYONA, HIDEYONA!)

Danger

Rumaysa rolls into the bunker with a disapproving frown, ready to chide Dezi further for wandering. Until she catches sight of Kass clutching him, silently crying and Jehona by her side, smiling like an idiot. She looks from her to her cousin and her cat, then shakes her head. “Nevermind. Seems like I’m already asleep.”

Afraid not, Jehona signs. 

The rumble of her wheels sends Kass’ heartbeat through the roof. Rumaysa draws nearer with the sort of look anyone with a grain of common sense wouldn’t want to be directed at them and, fine, Kass is terrified. Dezi wiggles out of her arms as if sensing danger and not wanting to be caught in the crossfire and even Jehona takes a step back when Rumaysa cranes her neck and addresses her by her full name. “Kassiani Trantis.”

Kass swallows. She is screwed. 

“How dare you—“ her voice cracks and Kass sees her eyes well with tears. “How dare you not hug me after all these years—“ 

She doesn’t wait for Rumaysa to finish, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around her umzadya. 

“—you asshole?” Rumaysa finishes with a sob on her shoulder.

Chapter 13

Excite

They clamber to their feet slowly, stiff as Jehona pushes thoughts of an angry Rumaysa from her mind with a shudder. Up on their feet, they’re a head taller than her, all gangly limbs and awkward posture. Most probably a recent growth spurt then. With a messy head of very wet brown strands, blue eyes, and a smarting of faint freckles on their cheeks, they remind her inexplicably of a puppy. A very excited puppy.

“I’m RT,” they say, extending a hand and almost hitting her arm. “Non-binary.”

She smiles despite herself, grasping his hand and shaking twice. “Jehona. A very kind woman, as you can tell.”

They laugh at that, allowing her to place their hand on the crook of her elbow, effectively getting them out of the rain. “Thank you, Jehona. I was starting to lose hope of making it back home tonight.”

“You didn’t. It’s dawn.”

Chapter 1

Suspect

Jehona looks then and what she finds on his face stuns her. It is understanding, written plainly on the arch of his brow and the line of his lips, in the way he looks at her, all of the pieces she’d laid bare for his inspection and does not flinch or judge or hate, as she’d expected him to. “Look at what you’ve done,” he says quietly, running a hand through his hair. “How can I hate you when you’re just like me?”

Her chin trembles.

“Really, siren.” Hideyoshi smiles a small, heavy smile. “That was rather rude of you.”

An inexplicable spark warms her chest, chasing away the terrible cold. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I did to Tomoki and Yukito.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

She snorts. “Well, yes, but I suspect if I went to apologize to them, I’d have injured them for nothing since your clan members would most definitely kill me on sight.”

Chapter 12

(HIDEYONA, HIDEYONA!)

Sick

By the time the parsen is done, the house around her is sparkling clean and orderly, their little dining table set and ready, and Jehona a mess of nerves and anxiety. She has worked herself up into a frenzy and she is sick of it. This must be how her dad felt last night. His anger makes so much more sense now. 

Restless energy plagues her and she takes to pacing the length of the living room. Her injured leg throbs dully; she’s overworked herself in her measly attempts to pass time. Jehona plops on the couch, stretching her leg out, and sighs deeply. She is being ridiculous. The events of the previous night have set her on edge and she’s letting hypotheticals get to her. It won’t be long until her father comes back, whining about how he’s ravenous and all will be well. There is no good reason for them to dispatch Captain Trantis’ squad to the third district. They’re usually assigned to the sixth district and they do a damn good job of keeping order there. Whatever reason the President-General has for sending men into that district, he surely wouldn’t endanger good capable men. Not with the threat of Austeria hanging over Lukovia like an axe ready to drop. Avniel may be many things but a fool he is not.

Chapter 4

Safe

Klevis just sighs. “Now that’s out of your system, back to my genius idea. Jehona is going to live with Hide.”

“Klev, dearest, weren’t you harping on about me needing to be safe?” Jehona points at Hideyoshi’s glower. “Does that look like someone who won’t kill me the first chance he gets?”

“I am no murderer.”

“With the right incentive, everyone is.”

Hideyoshi only glares harder. “Fine, then I won’t sully my hands with your blood.”

“You sure about that?” Jehona smirks. “A hasty conclusion, given you haven’t even heard of my latest nefarious deeds.” 

He narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“This is getting a little out of hand,” RT comments. “Any grownups want to intervene?”

Rumaysa snorts. “Sorry, RT. Those are in short supply around here.”

“Klevis, what did she do?”

Klev shrugs. “How am I supposed to know? Is this about those four Nonaka girls who breached your house?”

Chapter 8

Solid

She shifts in her wheelchair now, finally pulling the infernal device off of her leg and dumping it aside unceremoniously. “Not that I’m not eternally grateful to have found you two there—“ Rumaysa meets Jehona’s eyes, deciding to bite the bullet, so to speak, “—but what were you doing in the third district?”

Her best friend’s anger has always been something akin to spears of solid ice and has been used as such: with calculation and precision. And rarely has it surfaced, a trait Jehona shared with her mother. Both were too adaptable and solution-oriented to be sweeped by emotions. Except for tonight, apparently. 

“We?” Jehona’s voice is a burning brand, in the way something too cold feels hot to the touch. “What were you doing there, Rumaysa? Do you think this is a fucking game? That shithead would’ve killed you!”

Rumaysa finds she doesn’t have much patience tonight. “I asked first.” She says matter-of-factly, eliciting a snort from Klevis. Rumaysa can’t quite tell if it’s from amusement or disbelief. It seems he himself can’t either.

Chapter 5

Some of these are a little too long (yes, I’m talking about the Hideyona bits) sue me. I’ll pass this on to @writingamongther0ses, @sleepy-night-child, @fictional-semantics, and anyone else who thinks they can find these words in their manuscripts: smooth, shatter, sliver and smirk.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 13

For years, her house has been empty, a void for just her and Jack. Harry had done as she asked, and disappeared. Gemma went off to school, and then work, only showing up every few days to make sure Anne was still alive. It wasn't the same, nothing was the same without Harry there. He held them together. And now he's gone, living God knows where with God knows who, hurting people for a living. If boxing is what he's still doing.

The faucet is running, steam rising up from the sink and towards the water stained ceiling. It's been leaking for some time, but Anne's done nothing to stop the water. It the house collapses, maybe she'll be lucky enough for it to happen while Jack's home.

She can hear him chuckling along to the tv in the living room, and her bum throbs remembering the way he'd smacked it when she stepped in front of the TV earlier to collect his dinner plate. She starts to scrub at the dirty dishes, not minding the way the water burns her skin. Behind her, the skillet boils with water to get rid of the buildup of grease in it, and the sound of it pulls her into a sort of daydream. She can't help but think of Harry, her baby boy. She wonders if he's okay, if he's made something of himself. She'd like to think he has, but she just doesn't see how boxing could've gotten him anything. He's probably on the streets or living out of friends home, scraping by. He's probably lonely and afraid. Her eyes sting with tears and she doesn't realize she's dropped a wine glass until it's shattering by her feet.

She gasps, jumping back and wincing when a sharp sting cuts through the heel of her foot. She's stepped on a piece of the glass. Her foot is not her main concern though, because she can hear the recliner spring into place and Jack's heavy steps.

"For fucks sake!" Jack bellows, and he's grabbing Anne's shoulder and shoving get back. She feels paralyzed as the base of her spine rattles against the countertop, and her elbow bumps over the cookbooks and cutting board and paper towel rack on the counter. They clatter loudly, and Jack swears again as he focuses on Anne's trembling figure.

"I-it was an accident-"

"You were thinking of that stupid boy again!" Jack accuses, and he's not wrong, but Anne doesn't admit it. Because Harry's not stupid, not like she once thought he was.

"N-No! I'm just tired!" He grabs her elbow again, throwing her into the wall by the entrance way. Her side smacks into the wall, bones rattling painfully and she sobs.

"Stop lying to me!" Jack screams, face turning purple under his grey beard. He kicks the glass on the floor, the fragile material crunching under his boot. It slides against the floor unit it's about to hit her feet, and she screeches. Jack is glaring at her like she's the actual devil, and she knows it's only a matter of seconds before he storms at her. Without thinking she takes off out of the kitchen and down the hall, running into the bathroom and locking the door.

"ANNE!" Jack roars, boots beating against the creaky floor. He pounds his fist into the door, the plane of wood trembling under his anger. Anne does the same, stumbling backwards and falling into the tub. The curtain comes down with her weight, falling underneath her as she sobs and shakes. She wishes she had her phone, wishes Jack hadn't taken it and stomped on it with his heel for texting Gemma about Harry.

Her vision blurs around her, blocking out everything but the quaking door, and Anne can't help but think of Harry. It's been so many years, so many long years, but she knows if he were here he'd be standing in front of that door to protect her.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." She mutters like a prayer, squeezing her eyes shut as the smoke alarm starts to blare throughout the house. Anne flinches, whimpering and holding her hands over her ears. This isn't real, this is Jack. He set them off to try and get her to come out. She squeezes her eyes shut, mumbling her son's name until she feels like she's in a dream. Eventually the smell of smoke fills the bathroom, burning her lungs, but she's too stuck in her brain too move. She doesn't know how long she's sat there, coughing and choking out his name as she realizes she's going to die. She's going to die and it's all because she let Jack tear her family apart, hurt her babies. She's a terrible mother, she deserves to die.

Anne's head pounds, and bile rises in her throat. The banging on the door gets stronger, and Anne screams when it busts open. Someone speaks over the alarm and what sounds like sirens, but she can't hear them. Arms wrap around her, and she trembles and scratches, desperate to be let free, to be released.

Eventually she's drug out of the house, realizing that the house is in fact burning in orange flames. Firefighters are working to put it out, and she finally sees that one of them is who's holding her. "Ma'am, I need you to take a deep breath, you're okay!" The firefighter shouts in her ear, setting her on some vehicle and lifting an oxygen mask over her face.

"Who's Harry? Is he inside?" The man asks, and Anne realizes she's still crying for her son.

"My son, he's gone, I made him leave!" She cries, "I need my son, my baby-my son-"

Arms wrap around her again, and she sobs in the strangers hold. She doesn't know where Jack is, but she doesn't care. She needs to find Harry.

She thinks she hears Jack in the background, but again she doesn't know. And she doesn't know that after tonight, Jack will be arrested for domestic violence, a restraining order placed against him, Gemma will move Anne into her home, and together, they'll find Harry.

~

His stomach bubbles and twists, churning as Anne falls silent. The only sound in the room are soft snores coming out of Arlo's sleeping figure. Y/n is rubbing a smoothing circle into his shoulder blade with the hand that's not holding their son against her chest, and while it does help, it doesn't help enough. Because he's still mad. He's really fucking mad and he's not entirely sure why. He doesn't really have any reason to be other than the fact that Anne and Gemma never told him anything. They had so many chances to say something to him, literally anything along the lines of "our childhood home was lit on fire" would've worked. But they never did. Even when they knew he was coming back here, they expected him to just not find out? To not want to go back there?

Harry nibbles on the rough patch of skin on his thumb, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm his thundering veins. He doesn't want to yell at them or fight. He's tired of fighting. He wants everything to be okay now, wants to have a normal family now.

Like the beam of a lighthouse through fog, y/n and Arlo flood through his mind. Her hand feels heavier on his back, seeping into the tense muscles with warmth, and Arlo's snores vibrate in his chest and head. Finally, he removes his thumb from his mouth, running his hand through his hair.

"M'going to bed," he mumbles, purposely not looking at Anne or Gemma as he climbs up from the kitchen floor. Careful not to step on the leftover pizza box that liters the floor, he reaches down to help y/n up, pushing her hair out of Arlo's face so he continues to sleep peacefully.

"Harry-"

"G'night." He interrupts Gemma, stepping away from them and into the living room that now only contains their air mattress and bags. He hears y/n bidding good nights and sharing hushed words with them as he roughly tugs off his shoes and jeans, throwing them in the direction of his bag. Y/n walks in, Arlo still resting limply against her, and carefully lays him in the middle of the bed.

Harry slides onto the bed, turning his back to the kitchen where Anne and Gemma are quietly cleaning up the pizza they'd brought for dinner and then heading to their rooms. He lays his palm over Arlo's tummy, eyes lazily falling over his baby as his little lips part with heavy breathes and how his eyelashes touch his cheeks. Y/n disappears into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in her pajamas. She's quiet as she climbs into the bed, turning on her side to face Harry.

"Don't be too mad at them bubba," she says quietly, reaching over to rub her fingers up and down his arm. He meets her eyes, heat pooling in his chest at her heavy eyelids and frowning lips. And while she'll always be an angelic sight, especially when she's falling asleep next to him, he can't help but be annoyed with her words. She's knows him better than anyone, but she doesn't know how this feels, doesn't know what it's like to not be a part of a family, because she's always had a perfect one.

He just huffs, nuzzling his head further into his pillow and letting his eyes fall shut. He doesn't want to pick a fight with her, and he knows if he responds honestly at all they'll end up somewhere he doesn't want to be now. Y/n doesn't respond, but he hears her sigh and then leave over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Her hand continues to stroke his arm, soothing him into the same snores coming from Arlo.

~

He doesn't button the top three buttons of his shirt, not wanting to feel suffocated more than he already is. Arlo, who's sat in the bathroom sink with Bunny, coos at Harry, little hand reaching out to touch his silk shirt. He's always loved to touch Harry's silk clothes.

"We look nice, huh?" Harry mururms, looking down at Arlo's big eyes. He's in a plain white shirt that buttons between his legs with dark brown pants over his legs and little white vans that are so small they don't even tie. Arlo smiles, a gummy little grin that sinks dimples into his face, and smacks his hand against Harry's tummy.

"Not very talkative tonight bug," Harry says, running his hand through his hair before lifting Arlo out of the sink. Arlo lays his head on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric. "ya babbled and babbled yesterday."

Arlo just sighs as Harry exits the bathroom, and he thinks that's an accurate response to the mess that was yesterday. First Zayn, and then the house, and then Anne and Gemma and even y/n treating Harry like he had no reason to be upset. Yesterday was a bad day, Harry thinks dejectedly.

Y/n is setting folded clothes into her bag, straightening out the summer dress she's changed into. It's billowy and white, just boarding on see through, and Harry's heart pounds in his ears. She looks angelic.

"You ready to go?" Y/n asks, having turned to face them. She's got a sad little smile on her lips, obviously upset that Harry's been short with her all day. Harry nods, grabbing his keys off the empty fireplace mantle. He doesn't know where Gemma and Anne are but he doesn't care. They know that the dinner reservations are at 7 and they'll either be there or they won't.

Y/n exits the house, swinging the door back even though she knows Harry's coming out behind her, and he catches it last minute, the wood smacking against his palm so loudly Arlo jumps. Harry huffs, nose flaring but he shushes Arlo into snuggling back up against his shoulder.

Anne and Gemma, who were sitting on the porch steps, follow y/n to the car, an uncomfortable bubble of silence surrounding them as y/n closes her door and the other two women climb in. Harry grunts, frustrated because he really doesn't want to fight with y/n, she knows he hates fighting with her, and yet she's still pushing his buttons.

"Buying dinner for three intolerable women," Harry mutters to Arlo, who bumps his little nose into Harry's chin as he moves to look at him. "and one honey bug." He quickly adds, pleased to have his boy with him. He pulls open the door, ignoring Anne and Gemma's gaze as he buckles Arlo into his carseat. He whines when he's out of touching range of Harry, cheeks going red and tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't give me any back talk mister," Harry mutters, tightening his shoulder straps. "s'only a ten minute drive."

Arlo continues to cry, the sound being heard outside the vehicle Harry quickly gets in, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car. Harry backs out of the driveway, waiting for them to get on the main road before reaching over the center console for y/n's hand. He hers her sigh, but she doesn't hesitate to lace her fingers through his.

~

The words of his textbook stare back at him, going on and on about anti-federalists but Harry can't really get any of it to stick in his brain. He's reread this chapter twice tonight and it still hasn't registered in his brain how exactly the federalists and anti-federalists compromised because Jack's slurring loudly from the kitchen.

Harry sighs, tossing his book onto his mattress and climbing up. He pulls open the door open his bedroom, leaning against the frame when he finds his mom mopping in the hallway.

"Mum," he murmurs quietly, catching her attention. She looks up at him, haltering her movements. "I can't study with him bloody screaming."

Anne blinks at him, tired face falling and she nods. Harry gives her a sympathetic smile, and Anne calls out over her shoulder, "Jack, could you lower it a bit? Harry's got a test to study for!"

The shouting stops, and both Harry and Anne smile in relief. He's about to turn back into his room when Jack enters the hallway.

"What did you say?" Jack asks, and Harry knows by the way he's looking at Anne that he'd threatening her to repeat herself.

"I'm trying to study and you're being too loud." Harry says bitterly, glaring at the man down the hall. Jack's eyes flash up to Harry, head cocking.

"Life's unfair kid, get used to it."

"Jack-"

"Shut up Anne!"

Harry's pushing himself off the doorway before he can properly think, pushing Anne to stand him behind him. "Don't talk to her like that." Harry warns, teeth clenching.

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife-"

"Don't talk to my mother that way!"

Anne grabs Harry's shoulder, trying to pull him back before the rising tension gets too high. Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

"Tell your mother to stop being a bitch-"

Jack's sentence is cut off by the loud crunch of Harry's fist colliding with his nose. The man stumbles back, shocked, but Harry doesn't give him a chance to recoup before he's swinging again. Anne let's a shrill scream of Harry's name, but it falls on deaf ears as he clambers on top of the crumpled man. Harry's stuck in a haze of pent up anger and hurt and hatred, and he's taking it all out on Jack.

Harry can't feel his hands as they continuously fall down onto Jack's face, his brain going through the simple boxing technique he's been perfecting for weeks. Right, left, right, right, left...

Jack's hands press at Harry's torso and claw at his forearms, but he's gone weak. Too much blood is staining his shirt and smearing against his face. Too much blood is splattering off of Harry's bare knuckles. He's not sure how long he continues to rain hell on Jack until two hands are ripping him off by the waist, and the shouts of Anne and Gemma are filling his head.

Gemma throws him back with a strength he didn't know she had, cursing under her breath as she rushes forward to kneel by Jack. Harry's chest heaves, and his knuckles throb painfully but he feels good. He feels really fucking good. A smirk is tugging up the corner of his lips as he turns to his mother.

"Mum-"

"No Harry!" She spits, eyes blazing with rage. The pride, the accomplished feeling that was puffing in his chest fades, and he deflates.

"Wha'?" He mumbles, feeling dizzy as Anne grips his bicep harshly and shoves him in the direction of his room.

"Look at what you've done!" She screams, throwing her arms out wildly. Behind her, Gemma's carrying a groaning and almost unconscious Jack towards the bathroom. "Look at what you've done to my family!"

Harry's head swirls, stumbling into the doorway. His hands pound and ache, so bad he thinks cutting them off wouldn't hurt as much. "F-family?" Harry stutters, confused as to how she can call this a family. He's not even sure why she's mad. What did he do wrong? He stood up for her? He's getting rid of the man that's tormented them for so long.

"Mum, what-"

"Stop Harry! You're not-you're not my Harry!" Anne snarls, looking Harry up and down as if he were loam. "My Harry would never do that! He doesn't even know how to fight like that!"

Harry's heart pounds, pressing into his ribs so hard it hurts. "I-I am your Harry, I just-I just can protect us now. I box mum, I got strong for us." He desperately explains, tears building in his eyes at the way Anne continues to glare at him.

"You box?" She gasps, shaking her head in disgust. "No! No child of mine would be like you!"

"Mum, why-"

"Stop calling me that!" Anne shouts, so loud the floor seems to shake under Harry's feet. The tears spill over, tumbling down his cheeks and he goes to wipe them until he sees the excessive amount of blood on his hands.

"Please-"

"You need to leave!" Anne tells him cruelly, shoving him into his room. Sobbing and weak he stumbles to the floor, looking up at Anne in fear.

"What? Where?"

"I don't care. Anywhere but here!" She slams his door shut, ignoring the way he wails and furiously rips off his blood stained shirt to try and clean his hands. He rubs his knuckles furiously, tearing at the already cut skin until it's his own blood that's covering them, but he doesn't care because it still doesn't hurt the way his heart does.

~

Dishes clatter as the waitress stacks their plates up. Arlo squirms in Harry's hold as he wipes his face with a napkin, only for Arlo to blop a spit bubble out onto his chin. Harry huffs, sliding his plate towards the waitress and his chest sinks when he sees the pile of green beans on it. Usually y/n takes them, but tonight she'd just left them on his plate, not that he can blame her. One) they're disgusting, and two) there's still an uncomfortable tension between them. One that's been present all night, limiting conversation to just y/n, Anne, and Gemma, or Harry, Arlo, and y/n. And even y/n was quiet when talking to him.

Harry starts to settle Arlo into his carseat, pausing when the waitress comes back to give the check. Harry doesn't hesitate to send her with his card, grumbling an "mhm" when Anne and Gemma quietly thank him. He buckles Arlo in, tucking his blanket around him because it's cold out, and then grabbing the diaper bag from under the table.

"I've got it love." Y/n murmurs, taking the bag from him and pulling it over her shoulder. He thanks her, lifting Arlo's carseat in his hand and leading the girls out of the restaurant. He holds the door for them, looking down at Arlo so he doesn't have to look at them. The door has barely shut when he hears a startled gasp, his head snapping up to look over the line of girls. He immediately hands the carseat to who's closest, Gemma being the one to grab Arlo and Harry pushes to stand in front of his family. His fingers clench into fists, shoulders tensing up as he glares at the man in front of him.

"You're still around then?" Jack chuckles, looking Harry up and down with a smirk.

"Yeah. M'glad can't I say the same about you." Harry easily replies. He doesn't know how Jack's here, after what happened he should be in jail still. "Suppose it's hard to stay around with a restraining order against ya."

Jack clicks his tongue, jaw clenching. "Suppose you won't be around for long considering that temper of yours. How long before you hurt another family member, huh? Maybe that baby of yours?"

He takes a step forward, fury flooding through him and he feels proud when Jack takes a step back. "Don't fucking talk about my family. You were never family, you were a drunk prick that used and hurt my family!"

Jack scoffs, eyes blazing in the same way that haunted his dreams for so long. "I fixed your family after that father of yours left a fucking mess behind! Imagine the life you'd have if you hadn't almost killed me!"

"I wish I had fucking killed you!" Harry spits, "You abused her for years, you sent Gemma away after you fucking lied to her, you stole the fucking money from me, you kept them from my wedding and from my child! You deserve to die!"

Jack stalks forward, standing so close to Harry there's toes touch, and he glares into Harry's eyes. Harry's so mad he thinks he could beat him to a pulp again, until he's gasping for breath and begging Harry to stop.

"Then do it Styles." Jack spits, and Harry knows what he's doing. He's trying to break him. Either Harry beats him like he wants to, and he more than likely ends up in prison, or he loses his family. The last time he hit him he lost everything.

Jack shoves him back, spurring him on and Harry hates that he's got no choice here. Before anyone can move a muscle or Harry can even think of what to say someone is pulling him back, and stepping in front of him.

"Don't fucking touch my husband!" Y/n snarls, so menacing that even Harry falters. And that little falter is enough time for her to cock her fist back and throw it into Jack's jaw. Harry's eyes widen, and Gemma and Anne gasp as Jack's head snaps to the right. Y/n immediately curses, bringing her hand to her chest and wiggling in that way she does when she's hurt.

"Fuck," Harry mutters, grabbing her by the waist and tugging her back. Jack gathers his bearings, glaring at y/n with a busted lip and storming towards her.

"You little bit-" he's cut off by Harry's fist, this time the hit so hard he crumples to the sidewalk with a thud.

"Oh my God," y/n mumbles, and Harry knows Jack's out cold so he turns to y/n. She's silently crying and looking down at her left hand in shock. Harry reaches for it, apologizing when she winces. Her knuckle is cut, and her hands already swelling.

"Gotta take this off baby." Harry says, carefully prying her wedding ring off. He carefully drops it into his pocket, bringing her hand up to press a kiss to it. Gemma is on the phone behind him, obviously calling the police but he keeps his attention on his wife. She sniffles, looking up at him through her wet eyelashes and her bottom lip trembles.

"I can't believe you did that." Harry whispers, reaching up to wipe her cold tears. Y/n falls into his chest, and Harry wraps an arm around her, cupping the back of her head.

"Couldn't let you risk losing them again." She mumbles into his clothes, sniffling again. His heart jumps, and he chuckles in disbelief. She's always been good at understanding him, at navigating his silence. She knew he wouldn't be the first to hit Jack because of what happened last time.

"S'a good thing I taught ya to hit then." He laughs. "and it was a bloody good hit baby." She pulls back from him, mascara smeared under her eyes and trying to flex her fingers.

"It fucking hurts," she says bitterly, "I can't believe you do this all the time."

"Usually got gloves on." Harry snickers, rubbing his thumb over the uninjured part of her hand. "I'll put some ice on it for ya, fix you right up baby."

She smiles, grateful and sniffles again. "What happened to darling?"

"You're my baby tonight, baby." He kisses the top of her head, bringing her back to his chest for a moment. "Let's get you and Arlo in the car, s'too cold out here."

She obeys, and Harry leaves Gemma and Anne with Jack, who's been detained by restaurant security. Harry loads Arlo into the car, helping y/n into the front seat. He even squishes in the seat with her, closing the door and squeezing her close to him. They stay cuddled together, neither of them speaking as Arlo starts to snore from the backseat. Harry doesn't move until the police arrive, pressing a kiss to her head. Before he leaves to go speak with the officers, he leaves her the car keys and of course, mumbles an "I love you baby."

~

His laptop sits at the edge of the bed, Lady and the Tramp playing from Disney+ as Harry ices y/n's hand. Arlo is still snoring behind them, and y/n is getting droopy on his shoulder, his own eyes feeling heavy.

"Thank you for tonight y/n." Harry mumbles, kissing the top of her head. She doesn't move, but he can feel her smile.

"Of course," she whispers, "I'd do anything for you Harry."

Her fingers gently pat his thigh, the ice rattling from the movement and Harry shushes her before she can irritate her hand more. "M'so fucking glad I never have to come back to this town again."

"Never?"

"Never," Harry confirms, "because everything I need is in our city, in our home, and in our family."

"What about your dad?"

"I think he'd be happy knowing we've all left this behind us. I've said my goodbye."

She finally lifts her head, blinking sluggishly as she kisses his cheek. "M'ready for us to go home."

"Me too baby." Harry mumbles, knowing he's already got his home with him when Arlo snorts quite loudly and y/n giggles.

[darklymelanatedstories]

Dysfunctional (ft Vegeta&Bulma)

Bulma~

I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, slowly sliding down the door till I hit the floor. Tears and blood streaming down my face.

I just hugged my knees and cried.

"BULMA!!"

"Bulma I'm sorry!"

His voice cracked as he cried out to me from the other side. I didn't want to see him. Not after what he's done to me.

"Bulma...please!"he pleaded. His fists hitting the door repeatedly. Each bang begging me to let him in.

"Go away!",I yelled in between my sobs. "I dont ever want to see you again, Vegeta!!"

How could he? After all I've done, all I've been through. I put up with him for all these years to end up here...like this. How could I be so stupid!? I know it was an accident by why wouldn't he listen to me?!

I screamed at the thoughts in my mind, the memories. Thats what I could do at the moment. It hurt my throat because of all the previous yelling and arguing but it felt...right.

I swore I'd never cry because of a man ever again, yet look at me now. My hair was a mess, my face dripping with my fluids, my blouse stained in blood while I'm sobbing in my old, destroyed lab.

"Bulma!?" His voiced snapped me out of my thoughts. His voice...I've always loved it.

"Woman!" There he goes again. Am I not worthy enough for the Great Vegeta to say my name anymore. Thinks he's so high and mighty, I wonder why he hasn't broken this door down already.

I just ignored him and crept back into my thoughts. Trying to escape all this. But all I could think of is everything that happened today.

____________________________________

"Vegeta let go of him!",I yelled as I watched him pummel Yamcha. Every swing, every punch. He was barely clinging to life now. Everyone was gone. They all left when it started to rain. If only they had stayed. But I had to do something, I couldn't call anyone so I ran over and grabbed Vegetas arm, trying to pull him away from Yamcha.

He ignored me and kept punching him in the face.

"Vegeta!"I screamed in his ear. He turned to me, his eyes filled with pure rage.

"Woman, let go of me!"he shouted. "How could you allow this filth to put his lips on you!?"

I tried to answer but he cut me off. "You are my wife. MINE!! You are married to me. And I wont let my wife go around acting like a slut. Do you hear me!!"

A felt a pain in my chest. Did he just call me a slut? Me? Bulma Briefs?

"Hey, don't talk to her like that."Yamcha said in between pants. "You know she's not a slut so don't say she is. It was my fault I-"

Vegeta cut him off with a kicked in the ribs, which made Yamcha cough up more blood. I ran to his aid.

"Woman don't you dare!",Vegeta shouted. I ignored the annoying Saiyan and helped Yamcha up as I put his arm over my shoulder.

"Thanks Bulma.",Yamcha said. "But I'll be–look out!" I turned to see Vegetas hand coming toward Yamcha. Without thinking, I pushed him out of the way and took the hit.

It sent me flying until my face hit the wall. I stumbled on the ground. Blood dripping from my forehead. My muscles ached, screamed. To think this is only a tiny fraction of what Yamcha got.

"Bulma!!"they both shouted.

I got up balancing myself on the wall so I wouldn't fall.

"My Bulma!?,"Vegeta exclaimed in shock. "I'm so sorry."

I looked up at the moving figure heading towards me, my eyes kind of blurry from the hit in the face. As soon as my vision cleared and I saw Vegeta, I felt a rush of adrenaline and bolted.

Vegeta followed me, calling my name as he tried to reach me. The rain got heavier, the sharp drops hitting my sore body made we want to stop but the wet footsteps behind me motivated me to keep moving. I kept running, not because I was terrified but because I was sad and angry. I really didn't want to see him. I ran to my old lab and locked the door, putting together what just happened.

____________________________________

Vegeta~

"Bulma!!",I cried. I shouldn't have hit her. I should've listened but dammit Yamcha! Why'd you have to put your hands on my wife in the first place. Worse, in front of me. He knew I was watching...that bastard.

I kept banging on the door, cautious not to break it because I knew Bulma was on the other side. I didn't want to hurt her, not again.

I can't believe it. The way she was running from me, I never thought Bulma would be afraid of me, of all people. She was fearless. She even hit a deity, twice.

I stopped and just sat down against the door, head up staring at dark sky as the rain hit my face. A single tear broke free from the barrier, sliding down my cheek. Blending with the rain.

"Grr, snap out of it.",I said to myself trying to hold in more tears that threatened to break free. "You're of Saiyan Royalty, Vegeta."

I got up and went to look for another way to get in. I found a window on the opposite side of the lab. I looked inside to find Bulma crying by the door. Seeing her cry was unbearable, especially if it was because of me. Her husband, her prince, the one who's supposed to protect her, be there for her.

I couldn't take it anymore. I shattered the glass and jumped through the window, some sharp pieces cutting me and ripping my clothes but I didn't care. I just wanted my Bulma.

She jumped, obviously shocked to see me. I slowly approached her, she didn't show fear, she didn't even try to run, she just stood there. Strong and fearless like the queen she is.

She was about to speak but i just placed my finger on her lips. Her pink lips were covered in blood but it didn't stop me from wanting to kiss them.

I took my gloves off and pulled her close to me and wrapped my arms around her. My hand feeling her soft blue hair while the other kept her close.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."I said while my voice cracked saying every word. "Please forgive me. I'll never hurt you again. I hate myself for what I did to you." A tear slid down my cheek and landed on her shoulder.

I felt her arms wrap around me and we stayed embraced with another for what felt like the first time in forever. She pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

"Wow I never thought I'd see the Great Vegeta cry.",she teased. I just chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Well, you do make me do crazy things.

"Even crazier than your crazy Saiyan pride?"she asked as she laid her pretty head on my chest. I sighed. "Please, don't go there."

She lifted her head and looked me in the eye. "Why not? Afraid I'll hurt your pride?" My brows furrowed in anger. "The only one that hurt my greatest pride, was me.",I growled. "I hurt you Bulma. My greatest pride."

She let go and took a few steps back. I realised what I said and turned my face away from her shocked gaze. I felt my face heating up, I just clenched my fists hoping my face wouldn't show how flustered I was.

"Grr, why did I say that? So embarassing."

"Vegeta.",She caught me off guard when she wrapped her arms around me. I was kind of glad but I still wish I didn't say that. Tears streamed down her face. I placed my hand on her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

"Bulma, please don't cry. Not again." She placed her hand on mine and smiled. "Not even tears of joy?"she asked. "Not even."I chuckled. "If another tear falls from your beautiful eyes, then I have failed as your husband, your protector, your prince."

"I like this new Vegeta."she said. "He's open and sensitive."

"Hey!"I exclaimed, slightly offended. "I'm not sensitive."

"No but your ego is."

"Woman–",I paused. "Bulma don't start."I mumbled, trying to be calm. Though Bulma was enjoying this. She laughed, her sweet laugh, heaven knows how much I loved to see her laugh.

"Bulma, I know I can be a bit much but thank you for never giving up on me.",I said. "Not like you'll found anyone like me though."

"Ha ha."she said in a sarcastic tone. "I love you Vegeta." Usually when she said it I'd mumble it back or say it in a lower tone. I've never really liked saying it but she should know I mean it when I say,

"I love you too, my Bulma."

She cupped my face with her hands and pressed her soft lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around her and gave into the kiss.

~ WARNING : some things

Her tongue licked my bottom lip begging for entry, which I obviously didn't refuse. She pulled me in closer, our tongues pressed together as her sweet tongue explored.

She was in full control. She pushed me against the wall as I took hold of her round, firm ass. A sweet moan left her mouth and I couldn't resist. I had to take over. I pinned her to the ground, her hands placed over her head held tight by one of mine.

"Hmp, so all this time you were just sexually frustrated."I teased.

"I could say the same about you."she said as she got one of her arms free from my grip and slowly slid her finger up my aroused, member.

I slid my free hand down her shirt, slowly enjoying the feel of soft skin. Like I was feeling her for the first. She shivered at the touch of my cold hand.

"Bulma!! Are you Ok in there!?"

Dammit! Its that idiot Yamcha.

Bulma put her finger on her lip signalling me to be quiet. Hopefully he'll go away.

"I know you're in there. I can feel your energy Vegeta!"he yelled.

"Shxt."I whispered. Bulma put her soft hand on my cheek and gave me a devilish grin that gave me chills. That rarely happened. I dont know if it was the blood that painted her face beautifully or that kiss she gave me earlier that almost made me fall to my knees but something about her today aroused me, something different. I loved it.

"You can go Yamcha, I'll handle Vegeta."she said. I leaned over and started kissing her neck. Then slowly my tongue caressed her skin. I could never get enough of her taste. Delicious.

"You sure Bulma?"he asked. Will he leave already? I don't know how much more of this I can take.

"Yeah, I'm sure."she said holding in the moans. But one escaped and it triggered me to sink my teeth in. After this, Yamcha will see who she belongs to.

I dug my teeth in deeper as I pressed my pelvis against hers making her moan even more. I couldn't help but smirk, she always knew how get me going.

I stopped and had a quick lick at the wound before looking at her in the eye with pure love, lust and greed coursing through me.

"That'll leave a mark. You're mine. My Queen. My Bulma. Don't ever forget that.",I whispered. She flip me over and swiftly landed on top of me. I hated and loved the control she had on me. Her mere touch almost made me quiver.

She came closer and whispered in my ear. The sexy voice made in heaven.

"And you're my Prince."

Yes.

"My Saiyan God."

Yes.

"My Vegeta."

The one and only.

"Never forget that that you belong to me."

Oh I won't my love.

I gasped as she grazed her fingertips against my manhood. For the first time ever, I have succumb to my Queen.

_______________________________________

[korkisobsessions]

The Oath

XVII. Gifts

Hi guys, I know I´m a terrible at posting, but you know, Christmas is coming and whole this year is crazy. So I´m very sorry this chapter is quiet short. Hope you enjoy it anyway :) 

I wish you all merry christmas <3

You look like you sleep as well as I was.” Jae-Bong greets him with tired eyes. He didn’t say anything and head behind the house to the barn where they took body of the dead man.

“I was awake all night, listening to every crack. I was worried that Miho will sneak inside the barn and see it.”

Man was laid on the big table covered by old sheet. He started to stink and Jae-Bong needs all his strength to not throw up. Yeong shin experienced worse.

“Miho was running around our house again.”

“If that’s a problem...” big man spoke through piece of cloth pressed to his face.

“No. He is a good kid. Nilah really likes him.”

Yeongshin was glad when he saw Jae-Bong’s son in the morning. He knew that he will be the best companion for Nilah. She had bad, restless nigh and woke up pale and tired. But she smiled at him and let him go, even though he wanted to stay with her.

“I didn’t noticed this, when we found him yesterday.” For the first time, he was really sick.

“Oh no...” Jae-Bong growl and leave the barn with pale face.

Man on the table had cut off his manhood. His crotch was just bloody mess.

Yeong shin covered him again and followed Jae-Bong outside.

Leader of village was sitting on the ground, white as snow with cold sweat on his forehead.

“I never saw something like this.” He mumbled and took little flask from his vest. It looked almost same like Byung Chul used to have. “Someone killed him and then violated the body?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Yeong shin sat down next to him and accepted the flask with alcohol. It was weaker than Byung Chul’s. “Someone who did this wants his victim to suffer. He enjoyed the torture. He did this and then beheads him.”

“But why? I don’t understand...” Jae-Bong hides his face in palms.

“It looks like revenge.” Yeong shin lay on his back with hands behind his head. “There is nothing we can do.” He thought how such a beautiful day could have so terrible secret. There really was nothing to do. He wasn’t investigator. He was best in tracking and there were no tracks. He search surrounding of that place, but only footprints were his or Jae-Bong’s. It was almost unnatural how clean of track that place was. The murderer knows what to do and how to hide his presence.

“Yeong shin!! Father!” Miho’s Scream stops his heart.

“Miho? What is it?”  

Boy was running to them with wide eyes. He barely can catch his breath. His face red and hair damp with sweat.

“Some weird man is heading to your house!” he stuttered that few word with struggle.

Yeong shin’s stomach drop and his blood froze.

He didn’t wait, grab his rifle and run. He didn’t care about Jae-Bong shouting behind him, or Minho trying to run with him. He was glad that kid can’t keep up. If that weird man is ‘that’ weird man, it will be bloody fight and he didn’t want him to see.

His lungs were burning when he run like insane. His muscles working with urge.

He run through the village, people were shouting and getting out of his way. But he didn’t care. He was trying so desperately to behave from their first day here, and now he act like rogue. They will leave if they have to. He was ready to sacrifice their house and life here. He was ready to sacrifice everything, just not Nilah.

He approaches the house. Everything looks fine from the outside, but he did not trust that sign and run inside.

And then he saw him.

Siting in their kitchen with wide smile on his face was Cho Beom Pal in all his glory.

Yeongshin lean on the wall and slide to the ground. His lungs hurt and heart missing the beats. Weird man, of course.

“Is that you my friend? You look like you see a ghost!” came laughter through loud buzzing in his ears.

He pressed his hot and damp forehead to cold metal of his rifle and closed his eyes because he starts to see light dots. “I should stay with His highness and hunt the dead. It was calmer life.” He mumbled and tried to catch his breath.

“Oh gods Yeong shin? What happened?” Nilah’s worried face appeared before him and dark shadows were dancing around.

“He throws himself inside like thunderstorm. I think he will pass out?” Beom Pal’s voice was coming from far.

“Yeong shin?” Nilah pressed damp cold cloth on the back of his neck and give him cup with cold water. “What happened? Are you hurt?” she was really worried and was trying to find any injury.

“I’m good. It’s nothing. Just Miho making mess.” He smiled and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He needs to calm his heart, nerves and brain. Wipe out all that disasters he was imaging.

“And I thought, you will be bored.” Beom Pal laughed and sat back on his place.

Nilah looked happy to see him. She was serving food and opened the bottle of soju.

“What are you doing here my lord?” she pours him a drink and one for Yeong shin. He drinks it with one gulp and pours himself another. His hands were still shaking.

Beom Pal’s face light up with pure happiness.

“I’ve got gifts for you two.”

“Gifts?”  Yeong shin raised his eyebrow, finally calm enough to enjoy Beom Pal’s unexpected presence.

“Yes, but first, drink!” he give Nilah her cup and took his. “Toast to your new life. I hope you two are married already.”

Nilah’s cheeks turned red and she cough.

“No, we are not. It’s complicated.” Yeong shin drink his cup with serious face.

“Oooh, don’t be like this Yeong shin! It’s not complicated! Marry this gorgeous lady before someone else will.” Beom Pal laughed, but Yeong shin’s face paled and knuckles of his fist turned white.

“Please my lord. Leave it.” Nilah laid hand on magistrate’s forearm. She saw how much pain his words make to her beloved man.

“I just don’t understand...” Beom Pal was still mumbling while he took out small package. It was something wrapped in silk paper. “You love her, she saved your life, and probably more than once, you dragged her from hell...just marry her you foolish...”

“Stop it!” Yeong shin’s nerves cracked. His fists hit the table with loud bang. Beom Pal grew silent but he had small mischief smile on his lips.

“There is nothing I want more than made Nilah my wife. I would be honoured to be her man...It’s ridiculous, because I’m her man already, I don’t care if it’s official. I belong to her. My every heartbeat belongs to her.”

Nilah was speechless, listening his words with glossy eyes and blushing cheeks. She was touched by his words.

“Here, my gift.” Beom Pal gives Yeong shin small package. He took it with questions in his eyes, still wildly breathing.

He opened it and for a while he was still like statue. He just lifts his eyes to Beom Pal and Nilah through she saw them gloss.

“How did you...?” his voice was trembling when he put his hands on the table holding his gift in tight grip.

“I’m very important man, remember?” Beom Pal smiled happily.

“What is it?”  Nilah was trying to recognise, what made him so touched that even his hands trembled.

“It’s my name tag.” Yeong shin whispered with tight voice.

It was little tag with the name ‘Seo Yeong shin’ and it was made from fine wood that was probably very expensive.

“It’s your new name tag. You are in the King’s favour.” Beom Pal smiled with satisfaction. It took him a long time to found Yeong shin’s name in books and bring him back to the world of living. He must talk to lot of magistrates, to negotiate and sometimes used just a little threat. Until he was holding two fresh pieces of wood.

“And this is yours.” He gave Nilah same piece of dark wood.

Her breath hitched and she covered her mouth to not let out loud sob.

“You are officially citizen of this kingdom.”

“Thank you my lord. I don’t know what to say...how to make it up to you.” She hugged him and didn’t think about, how inappropriate it was. She was just happy. Maybe more for Yeong shin than for herself.

“Don’t be silly. I’m glad I could help you.” Beom Pal shushed her and took the bottle “So, let’s drink!”

 Nilah never saw Yeong shin drunk. She was sitting on the floor with bottle in her lap, she felt her cheeks red and hot like in fever, but she wasn’t sick. She was drunk and happy...maybe happier she ever was.

She was singing old songs she remembers from home. It was drinking songs of her nation about sun, sea and honourable deaths and reunion with gods.

And Yeong shin was dancing. She was happily laughing when he was swinging in the centre of the room waving with his hands. His cheeks red as hers and eyes glossy.

She never saw him so happy, smiling so long and wide. She wants to cry with happiness.

And Beom Pal was dancing too. Wobbling around and trying to sing songs in language he didn’t even know.

It was a long night full of joy. And in the end of it Nilah was sleeping and Yeong shin was sitting outside with Beom Pal, watching night changing colours.

It was silent and peaceful moment.

“She is still scared.” He whispered into the dark. “She has nightmares and last night I found her scared to death, just because she saw shadow, or something.”

It was like throwing away heavy weight from his back. He was so glad that Beom Pal was there.

“I have this trouble too, sometimes.” Beom Pal admitted. “Nightmares or these weird feelings. Last time someone run behind me and I almost pissed myself because I thought it’s undead.”

Beom Pal was suddenly serious when he spoke.

“She is not scared of the dead. It’s the living that scared her the most. And I feel so helpless. All I can do is calm her.” He hated how he was fighting with invisible enemy. With her demons he couldn’t shoot or stab.

“You are doing great. Trust me. I had few mistresses but not a single one can’t stand my nightmares. When I woke up with scream, they always run away. And it hurts. Be with her it’s the best you can do.”

Yeong shin was looking at the magistrate with compassion. They were too damaged by games of Hae won Cho clan. Even their own member.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and held Beom Pal’s shoulder. He knew he could lose his hand just for touching someone so high rate, but he didn’t mind. He just wanted to comfort a friend. “I’m really sorry.”

[fan-wicktion]

Sparrow - The Final Chapter (15)

MASTERLIST

warnings: bad language, angst, smutttt

a/n: I am here to finish this. The final chapter!!! I’m so grateful to all of you for supporting me this whole time, even though I am so sporadic. ♥️

SUMMARY: You are an assassin who stole a kill from John Wick. You royally piss off the High Table during a trip, and Winston orders John to hunt you down and bring you back in order to kill you. John finds you (of course), and you both accidentally end up bonding a bit on your travels back to New York. A call from Winston breaks the daydream, and you attempt to escape John’s captivity. He catches you.

——————————————–

John tosses you back in your room. Considering the circumstances, it might as well have been a prison cell. You couldn’t escape this building without him knowing. Even if you managed to flee, he would catch up to you eventually.

Seething, you stalk back and forth in the enclosed space, hot tears staining your face.

Paid for the whole fucking building, huh? Your eyes lock on the lamp by the bed. Shouldn’t be a problem if—CRASH! Your boot collides with the ceramic surface, sending shards everywhere. A strange thrill grips your stomach as you survey the wreckage. Rage.

You’re a wildcat caught in a trap. A tornado confined to a room. Who fuckin cares anymore?

A primal shriek of fury rips out of you and your fist breaks through the drywall. Panting, you shake the bits of wall off your knuckles and fondle the hilt of one of the knives strapped to your thigh.

“STUPID—” Thud. The blade embeds itself in the opposite wall.

“FUCKING—”

Thud.

“JOB—”

Thud.

“STUPID—”

Thud.

“FUCKING—”

Thud.

“RULES—”

Thud.

“STUPID—”

Thud.

“FUCKING—”

Thud.

“JOHN—” Your fingers wrap around air, and you realize you’ve run out of knives.

“GrrRRRRR!” Pulling at your hair, you give up.

Your body slumps onto the bed in physical and mental exhaustion. Weakly, you punch at a couple pillows before sobbing yourself to sleep.

———————————————

You refuse to look at John or speak to him at all on the ride to the airport, and the silent treatment continues on your flight. You sit as far away from him as possible, glaring out the window.

To his credit, John makes no attempt to interact with you…which is…fine…

Except you almost wish he would. Wish he would act upset at all, or angry even! Yell at you, fight with you, drag you in screaming or…or save you.

But he doesn’t do any of that. He just sits there silently at the front of the plane, hands in his lap. Doing nothing.

Fuckin asshole. I never should have trusted him. He never cared about me…he just wanted to bring me in. He—

A lump threatens at the back of your throat. No. I won’t cry anymore. Time to take it like a fucking man. You decide at that moment that there will be no hysterics, no crying or begging from you. You’d rather take a bullet to the brain with dignity than flounder like an apologizing idiot in front of Winston. Maybe even get a few wise-cracks in just to piss him off…

Plus, who knows. Maybe you’ll find a way out of it.

——————————————

The glow of the streetlights dance off the wet pavement in front of the Continental. Your sleek vehicle pulls up to the steps. You climb out behind John, the dull ache of acceptance sitting heavily in your chest. At the top of the stairs you pause, turning to look out over the city. Your home. Yeah, New York was a rat-infested hellhole sometimes…but it was your rat-infested hell hole. Ugh. Why’d I have to go and be a little shit head and get myself killed?

John catches your arm just as you’re turning towards the door. What’s this? Our daring escape?! He leans down and whispers in your ear:

“Trust me.”

What?! The click of cool metal around your wrists adds to your surprise.

“ExCUSE ME—??” So much for escaping into the sunset.

John jostles you through the door, and you do your best to walk gracefully while handcuffed. You can feel the eyes of a hundred assassins on you as you make your way through the lobby, a few wolf-whistles punctuating the light chuckling. You should be self conscious, but honestly? This is legendary. You manage to squeeze in a couple winks and bows as John drags you to the elevator. At least I’ll die a legend.

As the doors slide shut, you sneak a glance up at Mr. John Wick. His brown eyes are steely and staring straight ahead, jaw set menacingly. He seems so cold and aloof that you wonder if you were imagining things earlier. ‘Trust me’? What does that mean?

A shaky bundle of nerves forms in your chest, banging about your ribcage as the floor numbers fly by. It settles into a hard knot somewhere deep in your stomach.

Ding! The elevator stops.

Without looking at you, John grips your arm and steps through the threshold. You try not to stumble as he drags you forward. Your eyes lock on to a behemoth wooden desk. Oak? Maple? Why is this what I’m focusing on right now?! Shifting your gaze upwards, you see the short, grim figure of the man who wants you dead. Winston.

You lift your chin and stare down your nose at him.

“Hey there, big guy.”

John’s grip tightens fractionally around your bicep; Winston chuckles darkly.

“Ah, Sparrow. Always such a…joy…to see you. Couldn’t fly out of this one, could you?” He rounds the desk, leaning on it casually. A quick glance at John, and next thing you know you’re on your knees before him. You shift your weight slightly, cursing the handcuffs. If I could just—

The back of your head brushes the cool metal of the gun. Oh.

Every nerve in your body is aflame, screaming FIGHT OR FLIGHT? FIGHT OR FLIGHT? FIGHT? FLIGHT? SOMETHING? ANYTHING? Your fingers tremble as you realize there’s no way out. Nowhere to run that you wouldn’t be found. No safety. No life. No options.

“You know, John volunteered to do this. Said he’s really enjoy finally putting an end to all of your nonsense. Ha! I can only imagine the trouble you’ve put him through. I would feel bad but, well, he deserves it.” He laughs, taking a sip of his expensive-ass liquor.

Volunteered? You swallow the lump in your throat and glare up at Winston. “So, you didn’t like what you saw, hm? Why don’t we recreate my little photoshoot, just you and me?” And the bullet to seal the deal.

He scoffs. “Sweetheart, there are rules. And they must be followed. I don’t need unprofessional amateurs sullying the craft. The behavior you displayed cannot be tolerated by me or the high table. It is necessary for me to uphold these traditions, or we will crumble into a band of mediocre thugs. This is much more than just a photo, darling.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off. You just wanted to see me on my knees I bet.”

Winston doesn’t acknowledge you, looking at John instead. “Good lord, is she always like this? I see why you wanted to off her yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickle with angry tears. Angry with Winston, angry with John, angry with yourself. How could I let this happen? How could I trust—

Trust?

“Go ahead then, whenever you’re ready Mr. Wick.”

Wait—

The safety comes off with a sickening click.

You feel the air move behind your scalp. You throw yourself out of the way just in time to watch John step around you, leveling the barrel of his gun at Winston’s forehead.

Winston slowly sets down his glass, raising his hands slightly in surrender.

“John, what’s this? Don’t tell me—”

“Listen to me.” John’s voice is low and menacing. “I’m done. I want out. I’m sick of living like this. I want a life, do you hear me?” You can practically hear how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

“Well I hardly think—”

“I SAID, do you hear me?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m buying my freedom. And hers. I think you oughta comply.” He kicks a heavy briefcase over to Winston and it jingles ominously. Gold coins? Holy shit— “Let’s not forget all I have done for you.”

Winston takes his time staring at the case, then locks eyes with John, seemingly weighing his options. On one hand, he had all the power. He could refuse. On the other…was John Wick. The Baba Yaga. The angel of death himself.

He sighs. “Have it your way John. We’ll see if it sticks this time. I’ll speak with the High Table.”

You feel your entire body melt with relief, muscles you didn’t realize you were clenching quivering in release. John eyes Winston critically, then stoops to pull you to your feet.

“Hey, I—” You try to form a sentence to thank him, but the words won’t come.

“Don’t,” he grunts.

Glancing at Winston, you have the urge to stick out your tongue and gloat, but decide not to press your luck. You nod at him and follow John out the door.

———————————————

John strides towards the sleek Mustang waiting at the curb. Unsure, you trail behind. Is he expecting me to like, go home?

Judging by the look he gives you as he yanks open the driver’s side door, you guess you’re supposed to get in. Is he mad? He looks kinda mad…

You climb in to the passenger seat, noting his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“My apartment’s right around the co—EEP!” Suddenly, you find yourself in the backseat. How did—

John’s frame looms above you. He leans down, so close his beard tickles your cheek. One hand snakes up to grip your jaw.

“I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he turns your face towards his, and locks eyes with you for the first time in over 24 hours. Raw need grips your core as his animal desire envelopes your mind. Grabbing fist-fulls of his sleek hair, you pull him towards you. Your teeth crash together in a desperate kiss, hands hungrily undoing belts, buttons.

“Think you can handle this, sweetheart?” A cocky grin interrupts you tugging his bottom lip.

“You’re on, old man.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you and slides his hand down the front of your underwear. The pads of his fingers glide over your soaking slit, and a low groan escapes his lips. You yelp as he tears your undergarments off completely, shoving your pants down around your ankles. You’ve managed to free him of his pants as well, and gasp as you unveil his throbbing cock.

You start pulling him towards your entrance, but John snatches your wrists and pins them above your head roughly. He holds them there as he grasps his length.

“No, baby. After all you’ve put me through? I’m in charge.” He lines up and thrusts into you abruptly, causing you both to moan loudly. “Fuuuckkk.”

After all this time waiting, fantasizing, pining over and hating him, feeling John Wick fill you up with his thick cock was nearly too much to handle. You could feel every vein, every inch of his dick against your walls, stretching you out.

The long-held tension between you snaps, and you’re all over each other. He pounds you into the back seat of his car mercilessly, pinning you with one arm, the other alternating between slapping your ass and fingering your mouth. You wail and moan, crying his name over and over as spit coats his fingers and your own face, and your wetness coats his cock. The entire Mustang is rocking, windows steaming up, and you know—you know—people can see exactly what’s going down. You don’t care. Somehow, knowing the entire Continental is watching John Wick fuck your brains out makes this entire situation a thousand times hotter.

John takes his spit-coated thumb and begins rubbing quick circles over your clit. The building heat in your core intensifies, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, and you feel yourself clenching around his girth. John growls with pleasure, bearing down and increasing his speed. His hand finds its way back up your body and around your neck as he chases his own climax.

The pleasure of your orgasm and the lack of oxygen makes you see stars. John pulls you into a filthy kiss, and you climax again. Your throbbing hole sends him over the edge, and you feel his warm cum fill you up. He nips at your neck playfully while you both lay there, panting.

“I was going to wait until we got home, but I couldn’t fucking resist any longer. You drive me so crazy that I think I hate you,” John mumbles in your ear. You grin mischievously.

“Hate me enough to fuck me harder next time?”

He yanks your head back by your hair. “Fuck you. You know I’ll destroy you.”

John slides his length out of you with a groan, admiring the slow leak of cum from your pussy. He pulls up your pants, sternly ordering you to keep his seed inside you for the ride back to his place. You both emerge from the back of the car very ruffled, and you nod at the doormen cheekily as you climb in the passenger seat once more.

You gaze at John as he speeds homeward, his cum leaking down your leg, and can’t help but think your future seems pretty damn bright.

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

Thank you all again for all the support and love! ♥️

Taglist:  @chicksamwitch @mikaneonox @onebatch–twobatch @fandomwritrix @littledeadgirlwalking @minsugagenius @10yz @where-did-the-good-ones-go @catsmieow @xrevoltx @kezzasaurus-rex @homesoutofhuman @lunilate @coolbreezeinkeanureeves @urlil-brat @lustforfern @yeet-me-out-tonight @weird-civilian @92lnbr @wangdeasang @a-really-bi-girl @paanchu786

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 5 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: you have... NO IDEA how long i have been sitting on this one. Just... wow okay. And this is just the beginning, wait till you see the cabin scene 👀 Edit: tell me why I had the main chorus of Timber Feat. Ke$ha in my head on infinite loop while writing the fight scene 🤦‍♀️ LMAO

⚠️: asphyxiation [aka suffocation], several mentions of blood, and graphic (?) depictions of violence throughout. Also, long chapter

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"MAX! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Everyone watched stilled, with pounding hearts as Billy's billowing cries echoed out across the weight room. No one more so than Max. He had barely taken his eyes off of her and his voice fell into a weakened plea.

"Let me out,"

And then it was gone. Replaced with a malice-filled hiss that was beginning to feel a little too familiar for their liking. One by one his eyes flicker between the party members with a twitch in his eye as he began to shift, eyes darting past their shoulders and sweeping the room before his next glare.

"You kids," he pants, each breath like swallowing smoke. "you think..." he was swallowing embers. "this is funny?"

Mike and Lucas share a nervous glance.

Another heaving breath, the flames now licking his lungs.

"You kids think this is some kind of sick prank, huh?" With a snarl, he rears his head back and spits on the glass. "YOU LITTLE SHITS THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!"

Anxiously, Max eyes Will from where he stands beside El and he meets her gaze. The two seem to share the same thought. It was working.

But the sauna's prisoner had caught on, and as the fire was rekindled in his veins, he shifted nervously again; eyes darting once more around the room before landing on the two.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" They all flinch when he throws himself against the window in a fury. He was growing more frantic. And he wasn't stopping. "OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!" He pressed his nose against the glass, showcasing his darkening eyes. "OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

The fire was now ablaze, the blood in his veins felt as if it was actually boiling, cooking him from the inside out and he finally collapsed on the sauna floor with a groan. Will took that as his cue and raced to the thermometer on the wall where the needle rested at the end.

"We're at two-twenty,"

When he returned to El's side, a great wail reverberates from within the sauna followed by a great many thumps.

"It's not my fault," he weeps, catching them all by surprise. "It's not my fault, it's not my fault, Max. I promise it's not my fault."

With a pounding and aching heart, Max crept towards the sauna door. Many eyes darted after her, fearfully, dealing between her and the only barrier protecting her from what lay inside.

"What's not your fault, Billy?" She asks.

When she peers behind the foggy glass, her heart threatens to split in two; he sits before her on the tile floor, beads of sweat blending with his tears and his hands glued together in plea as he looks up at her.

"I've done things, Max," he sobs, his voice threatening to break. "Really b... bad things and I didn't mean to."

As Billy peers up at his sister now, he can feel himself slipping again. He tries so hard to hold onto that sliver of himself, drifting away into the dark. His hands wring together as he pleads, his nails raking into his skin to stop himself - to stop Him - from winning.

His sanity was slipping and everything in him was screaming for him to do violent, inhumane things to the girl before him but he fought it. Billy knew he didn't have much time, and it was getting harder to think. And Billy spat the words from his tongue before he considers the repercussions from the shadow.

"He made me do it,"

Max was certain she knew the answer now. She knew it even as she stood in the living room facing her brother just twenty-four hours ago. But she had let herself believe the tempting lie over the bitter truth that the Shadow Monster had not gotten Billy. But she knew she had to. And so she asked.

"Who made you do it?"

Fear flashed in his eyes as he wept. He looked as something was trying to stop him, and Max knew very well something was, but he managed the words anyway; unknown to all, his final warning. The words that confirmed all their darkest fears and chilled their bones.

"I don't know, it was like a shadow. A giant shadow,"

Y/n's heart leaps into her throat, and her brows knit together in a curious frown when she sees El and Will meet eyes in matching grave expressions. They share a knowing look and nod, and silently they form a wall, herding Y/n behind them. It was likely they had made a prior agreement, she realizes, but her worries still remained on her other best friend inches from the glass.

"Please, Max," Billy weeps.

"What did he make you do?" Max asks through a wavering voice.

"It's not my fault," He cries suddenly, sinking into the sauna bench. "okay, Max?! Please! Please!"

At the sound of his broken cries, Max's eyes squeeze shut, and hot tears slide down her cheeks as she faces the small window. Her heart is torn, but she tries to remain strong.

"Please, believe me, Max! I tried to stop him, okay? I did."

He's trying even now, but the darkness is closing in. Her tearful face is blurring from his vision and he's losing the grip on his body without realizing it. He can already feel the shadow breaking free from his hold when his arm creeps across the tile floor without his permission.

"Please, believe me, Max. Please believe me,"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reaches out to Billy; her hand on the glass and speaks through her breaking voice.

"Billy, it's gonna be okay,"

The darkness was spreading to his vision, closing in on his sister and he knew he had only moments. They had only moments. There was no telling when the shadow would let him resurface. As Billy disappeared, he spoke what little warning he could before the shadow stole his voice.

"Max please..." -get away, his mind screams. But the words didn't come. Go away. Get out while you can.

She hadn't heard him. It was too late. The hand that lied hidden beneath the sauna bench, had already found a weapon.

"It's gonna be okay, we want to help you," Max swears through stinging tears.

His fingers curl around the broken and jagged tile.

"We want to help you. You just have to talk to us, okay? You have to talk us."

All too well indeed. He felt it even now.

Will's eyes had never left the sauna door, drilling holes through the glass even when the man had collapsed to the ground. Billy's haunted cries had reached Will in a way it never could the others. He knew the feeling all too well.

An unnatural chill zapped the air despite the muggy atmosphere and his whole body seized up. His hair stood on end and the skin over his body tightened, goosebumps breaking out out all over his skin.

He's activated.

-"What?"

-"What?"

Will has little time to look at Mike and Y/n and realize he had uttered the words aloud before looking back to Max.

"Max, get away from the door," he cautions.

Taken by surprise at his sudden request, Max hesitates. "What?"

"GET AWAY FROM FROM THE DOOR! NOW!"

Max had barely heeded Will's warning when the glass burst inches from her face as Billy hurled his arm through the window. El jumped back, sweeping both her arms in an effort to protect her friends. And with miraculous timing, Max had dove to the left just in time to escape the confetti of glass shards but her arm had not been so lucky.

While he had dropped his tile shard his hand had caught her bandaged forearm in his iron grasp and yanked. She yelped in pain, using the traction of her shoes against the linoleum to keep herself away.

"LET ME OUT, YOU BITCH!" He howls, tugging her arm as she attempts to pry and claw her way free. "I'LL FUCKING GUT YOU!"

"NO!" Came the sudden angered cry of Y/n Henderson as she forcibly broke free from the wall El and Will had created. She pushed their shoulders aside and sprinted forward, throwing her hand out before her. "LET HER GO!"

A powerful blasts burst forth from her palm and Billy cried out, yanking his hand back. He withered for only a moment, a loud hissing breath sucked in from between his clenched teeth as he visibly shook in anger. His hair was still dripping and it hung like a dark curtain over his eyes, but she could see it - they all could. The whites of his eyes were harder and harder to see as he looked upon his festering arm.

Max had scrambled away from the wall, back into the safety of El and Y/n's protection but Y/n didn't flinch.

He was pissed, but so was she.

In an instant, he throws his head up to look at her, his drenched curls landing on top of his head and draping over his seething face. His darkened eyes locked on her, his gritted teeth clenched so hard his entire body shook with fury. His expression finally matched his eyes from the previous night and confirmed to Y/n it had been the Mind Flayer to have spoken to her at Heather's. Never Billy.

What followed next, had unfolded all at once.

His screams return and he bangs his fist against the door once before yanking out the lead pipe and chucking it at Y/n.

She ducks just in time, and El swipes it out of the way, sending it flying into the wall with the flick of her head before it could hurt any of the others. And Lucas releases the pull on his wrist rocket he had trained on the man since he scrambled to load it when the glass first broke.

With an audible snap, the ammo was released and sent flying into its target; crashing into Billy's forehead.

A second time he was sent tumbling to the sauna floor, disappearing from their view with an even louder thump.

"Y/n, come on!" Lucas cried.

She wasted no time, scurrying back to the safety of her friends who engulfed her into their surrounding figures. Their heads all snap towards the ceilings when the hum of the lights grow stronger and everything begins to flicker.

Billy's insides churn with a disgruntled choke, his mouth spitting out fluids as he comes to. With a groan, his body spits and writhes on the floor. The icy storm in his veins spreading. And festering.

Joined shoulder to shoulder, the huddled party backed up in one circle. Each of them faced away from one another, looking around worriedly as the rows of florescent lights flicker violently above them. They all close in on Y/n in a protective stance.

Billy's body twisted and thrashed on the tile floor as he attempted to heave himself up to his feet. The grip of the Mind Flayer had broken free from the barriers of his mind and was coursing all throughout his body, the dark mass staining the very blood in his veins and poisoning his system. Dark lesions broke out all over his back and arms, and black veins rippled out under his skin, all across his body as he clutched the wall. Throwing back his head, Billy released an inhuman, agonized wail before charging for the door.

A second time they all jumped, and a second time El's arms swept out to protect her friends - finally including her Max. Their horror-stricken eyes were fixed on the door as Will inched closer to Y/n, and Max spoke through a fearful waver.

"He can't get out, can he?" She frets as he barrels into the door a second time, the chains testing the pipe anchored to the wall.

Fear gripped his heart and Lucas shook his head, voice filled with doubt in his own words. "No way. No. Way,"

"Y/n, get back," El orders in a flat voice, her tilted head unblinking on the door. "Go with Will."

Y/n gawked over El's shoulder, frantically looking between the door, her best friend, and a pleading Will who grabbed for her hand.

"What? No! No, bullshit! We agreed!"

"Y/n, come on," Will urged, tugging a little harder on her hand.

It grew hot under his touch and she ripped it from his grasp. "No. I need to do this," Y/n cried, her head whipping back and forth between her boyfriend and the fraying thread that was the bowing sauna pipe; the last defense holding back the Mind Flayer's newest host.

The door stopped moving and one split, heart-stopping moment a thunderous cry barreled out deep from within Billy's chest.

The door was thrown open, the pipe bursting from the wall and expelling puffs of steam as Billy tumbled through the open door. The Party jumped back in shrieks, El on the front lines pushing everyone behind her, even still.

With a lumbering breath, the fluorescents still flickering madly above them, Billy rose to his feet to meet eye to eye with the wrong girl. With a fear-inducing glare and an overpowering sense of protectiveness, El had forcibly barricaded herself in between the Mind Flayer and her best friend.

He curled back his teeth, a growl growing in the back of his throat. He was ready to wring her neck but she simply rose a single hand in the air, and the nearest barbell rose with it. In the blink of an eye, Billy was pinned against the brick wall by his neck, gasping for breath.

Everyone watched on in a mixture of shock and awe as El threw another arm up, and the weights sunk deeper into the brick, crumbling them near his head. She was panting for breath, nose dripping with blood but she was determined.

And she wasn't the only one.

"Y/n-!"

But she ignored the Party's cries, as well as the pleas in her gut screaming for her to turn tail and run. But she couldn't stand by and do nothing as El faced it all alone - nor could she sit still when she saw the very monster she had faced the prior year, wearing the very face that plagued her dreams in her last sleep. Y/n Henderson didn't walk away. She couldn't.

Y/n stormed to El's side, throwing her arms up in sync with two large and billowing waves of heat that filled the entire room. Billy howled as the heat consumed him completely, the black veins festering underneath his skin. Across the sauna, Mike and Will watch on in a mixture of awe and worry as El and Y/n stand side by side, their arms extended as they fight with great strain and their guttural cries begin to blend.

Tears pricked Will's eyes as he watched the scene unfold, frightened not only for Y/n's life but El's. He truly feared what the Mind Flayer might be capable of in someone like Billy Hargrove. And already he had every right to be.

What came next stole the breath right out of his chest.

With a husky grunt and a terrifying spur of adrenaline, Billy heaved and broke El's telepathic hold, sending the barbell flying for their heads. With matching screams, they throw themselves to the floor, avoiding the otherwise inevitable blunt force trauma by a hair's width. He stormed to their bodies piled together on the floor. Learning his lesson and counting every precious second, Billy grabs a fist full of El's hair and drags her to her feet and off of Y/n's body. She yelps out in pain, clawing to get free but he had already thrown her into the wall she had just pinned him to. Her head collided with the brick and she sunk to the floor, fighting to keep her eyes open and vision clear but she was losing her battle.

Mike and the others cried out to her, unable to reach her but her blurring vision was fixed on the sight of Billy closing in on Y/n's body. She threw her arms up with a vengeful grunt, her skin beginning to glow. The ground begins to shake and all their hopes rise with Y/n as pulls herself onto one wobbly knee. The spidery veins adorned her eyes, lips, and ears, heat pulsing from her palms as her light began to illuminate the weight room.

And like a candle's flame, it was extinguished under Billy's hand.

Her grunts died in her throat when his hand encircled her throat, cutting off all her air. What strength he possessed as Billy Hargrove had doubled with the Mind Flayer and lifted the young girl above his head with ease.

Y/n tried crying for help but her voice was lodged in her throat with the rest of her breath, leaving her no choice but to claw at Billy's arms as she fought for air and freedom. Her legs were finally listening to her brain's signals, kicking and squirming as she tried to reach him or even the ground but they never did, no matter how close she got. Just as she had foreseen.

"Y/N!" The others cried.

She gasped and choked for breath, any whisp of air she could possibly manage between his fingers as she tried to conjure a fight, but she was losing concentration. She was losing air.

All she saw beside the white spots swallowing her vision were the seething eyes of the Mind Flayer peering up at her. And as he watched the life drain from her eyes, he hissed to the one he had been waiting in agony for all these months his final greeting.

"You."

Y/n could barely hear him over the cries of her frantic friends, nor could she barely register the repetitive snap of Lucas's wrist rocket as he sent rocks flying into Billy. But this time, Billy resisted. Out of spite, or with the aid of the Mind Flayer's mutation, none of them knew but with El out cold on the floor and unreachable without crossing through Billy, little options were left.

And Lucas was already running low.

Y/n's hands latched onto Billy's wrist, at first, seemingly trying to pry herself away as she sucked in as much air as she could capture. And as her bulging eyes began to flutter, she manages to speak through choking, gasping breaths.

"Fuck... you."

Latched hands had locked on and began to glow and Billy's eyes fell to her grip. The skin beneath her palms began to sizzle and a agonized cry grew deep within Billy at her searing touch. And yet still he held, but the same could not be said for Y/n. Like El, she was fighting to remain conscious.

And Lucas had run out of ammo.

Lucas and Will seemed to share the same thought as everything had unfolded within an instant. And with an angered cry, Will charged forward just as Lucas chucked his metal wrist rocket at Billy's head.

His grip still iron clad over Y/n's throat, Billy's head whipped to the party as fast as his other hand stopped in front of his face, catching the wrist rocket mid-air. And just in time for Will to reach him. Billy reared his arm back and smacked the butt end of the wrist rocket into the boy's head, knocking him to the ground without ever blinking.

"Will!"

Those that remained stood back, watching terror-stricken as Y/n begins to grow limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Tears prick Mike's eyes as the sights surrounding him become too much; one of his best friends dying before his eyes, and the two people he had probably loved most in the world, fading on the floor. And he snaps into action.

He looks around wildly, thanking whatever force was out there that the burst pipe from the sauna was near his feet. He picked it up in an instant, charging forward with a sudden surge of adrenaline, and crashed it into Billy's skull.

Y/n dropped to the floor, gasping for breath as she rolled away from Billy's fallen body. Mike towered over the man as Y/n came to, a vengeful look in his eyes as he swung the pipe back above his head.

"GO TO HELL YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

With all the force he could possibly muster, Mike threw the pipe down at Billy's back but it had stopped inches from his face. In the blink of an eye, Billy had turned, catching it in his single fist with as much ease as the wrist rocket.

Mike gasped in horror as Billy seethes up at him, much too frightened to even flicker to the sight of Y/n wobbling up onto her hands and knees and risk giving her away. She was coughing on every wheezing breath, her lungs and throat burning but she still felt a spark big enough to hold onto.

Will had just started to come to, the sideways vision of the weight room floor showing to him two things: Billy chucking the pipe against the wall with an earsplitting clang and Y/n's heaving chest swallowing desperate, gulping breaths, the blood steadily draining from her face.

He tried to move to her, but his limbs were heavy. All he managed to do was hoist himself up onto his arms as tears fell from his eyes, slowly pulling himself along as the world began to steady. But he never reaches her in time. Billy had begun to rise, and yet the beginnings of a smug smile curled Will's lips as his eyes trailed her across the room.

Anger battled impatience within the Mind Flayer at the unrelenting children, but killing this one - the Wheeler boy - would be easy. At least, it would have been had it not been for the young girl emerging with the two hot blasts of searing heat raining down upon his exposed chest as Y/n unleashed her fury upon him.

A primal scream grew from deep within her belly, ripping up her throat as she circled back around to face him, arms outstretched before her in two taut claws. What little space he had created from himself and the weight room floor had vanished as the blasts intensified with her screams.

The fluorescent lights about their heads were flashing violently now, enunciating the matching veins each opponent bore. The buzzing of the lights was nearly as loud as the rumble of the shaking room and the cracking of the tile that sounded eerily like thunder. The two blurring bursts of energy were pouring from her palms and pinning Billy into the tile so hard the tile floor cracked beneath him.

His screams blended with hers, the light pouring from her skin illuminating his agonized face and she pushed harder. her arms dug closer to his chest and the deep and inhuman voice returned; the voice of the Mind Flayer cried out in pain.

Y/n felt the sudden force of Billy's untouched leg sweep under her own, knocking her off her feet. The Mind Flayer coughed and hacked once more, and threw himself over her as she lied on her back. His hands were around her throat again, yanking her up before slamming her back into the ground.

With the strobing, flickering lights disorienting their already obscured vision the others could barely make out Billy hunched over something on the floor. His haunched, vein painted back nearly in ribbons as blood drizzled down his back like rain on a window. It didn't take them long to put together the pieces, Y/n's name on their weeping tongues as Billy repeatedly threw her back into the tile until she steadily lost consciousness. Finally, after one last gust of power, he thrust her into the tile and releasing her throat. But only to raise one darkening, blistering fist into the air, ready to strike...

Horrified screams tore from their throats, each of them prepared to tackle Billy. Will had finally stumbled to his feet for the first time without falling, ready to do just that but something had stopped him.

Billy froze, growing horrified as he himself began to choke.

A body hidden away in the shadows that had finally fought her way back into consciousness for the sake of her loved ones

There she was in all her glory.

El, rising to her wobbling knees; the sound of Y/n's broken cries and gasping pleas for help that broke through her subconscious mind had been the final push of adrenaline she needed.

Like Y/n, El's grew from deep within as she pulled herself to her feet, arms outstretched. Steadily, Billy's body was pulled off of Y/n's until even his toes had left the ground. He was pulled far away from the young girl's body as El circled him, once again placing herself in between the Mind Flayer and the girl she couldn't lose.

Will took the advantage El had bought for them and closed the remaining gap, collapsing at Y/n's side. He breathed a sigh at unimaginable relief when he saw her chest moving with labored breaths. She was alive. Hoisting Y/n's bloodied head into his folded legs, he returned his worried sights to El just in time to see her give a great roar, hurling her clawed hands to the side and watching as Billy was thrown through the brick wall in an explosion of dust.

El's knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion beside Y/n's limp body. Mike rushed to her side, steadying her arms and looking on with pooling eyes at his waking friend.

Y/n lays in Will's arms on the grounds of the cracked and broken sauna floor, her bloodshot eyes popping out of her skull as she coughs and chokes on what air she hopes to regain. Strenuous marks circle her throat from where she was previously held captive, and specks of blood drip from the back of her skull onto Will's leg. The others begin to crowd around in worry and fear as they jump in to help.

Will cradles her head softly, brushing away the stray hairs from her face as he weeps, desperately wanting to ease her pain though he does not know how. He's doomed to watch her lay suffering, her wails of anguish are strained and hoarse from the Mind Flayer's grip. A similar, deathly grip squeezed the hearts of the rest as they watched her suffer.

With flooded eyes, Will leans down and plants a shaky kiss on her forehead before resting his own against it. Her left hand comes to wrap around his wrist as it still holds her head in place. He breaks away to examine her once more, the puffiness of her swollen cheeks had already subsided a great deal but it was clear she was still in pain. Trembling, she looks out to each of them, her eyes watery and thankful. Reaching out her other hand, it finds El's, and they both let out a sob knowing the other was okay. Each sniffle tore right through his heart, and as if asking for help he looks up at his friends hoping for answers.

But they all stare at her, glassy-eyed and frozen, and that's when it dawns on them; Billy. Each of them, Will included, look frantically to the broken brick wall through which he was thrown. Everyone apart from the young couple on the ground rushed to see the young man, singed and bleeding making his escape into the trees far across the field and into the squalling storm.

Will's gaze is torn back to his lap when he feels Y/n begin to rise. Eagerly, and without hesitation, he helps Y/n to sit up. Tracks of thick tears stream down her face, cleaning her bloodied and dirtied cheeks in their path. His hand finds a home on her back, reflexively trying to run soothing circles into her muscles but she immediately whimpers, flinching. Her back had taken most of the damage, which he realized was preferable to her skull. But still, a plethora of apologies spilled from his lips, his eyes are filled with nothing but worry and heartbreak.

Y/n takes a moment to steady herself, the blood rushing to her head combined with the powerful forces inside her still hard at work as they desperately try to repair the gash in her head. She tries to smile, silently telling him it was okay, but it hardly showed. But Will still knew.

As she attempts to stand - one arm hooked around his shoulder, the other over Lucas's - the energy drains from her quicker than anything she had felt in a long while and when she blinks she realises she is resting her head on Will's shoulder.

Her sobs are weak and drawn out in her taxed state, yet they still demand to be heard even buried in Will's chest. The pain of seeing her this way makes him feel as if he has been torn in two, and yet worse, he knows it's dwarfed in comparison to whatever she is enduring. All he can do is hold her close, and hold her gently, assuring her safety.

Will wishes more than anything to take her pain away, and how cruel of fate to deprive him of this.

With the aid of Will and Lucas, Y/n hobbled to the gaping hole in the brick where Billy had disappeared. Her shoulders rose and fell as she attempted even know to even her breathing, her haunted glare stretching out across the dark and stormy night where the Mind Flayer had made his second escape.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"The girl, was it her?"

Heather's voice cuts through the silence is Brimborne as she sat opposite Billy.

"Yes," he answers with a hiss, eyes darting to the handprints seared into his skin. "Yes it was her, and she knows now. She knows about me. They both do."

Heather's hand and the cool wet handkerchief it holds reaches for his blistered wrists but finds her own entrapped in an instant but neither of them blink.

"She could have killed me." He asserted.

"Yes," she says. "But not us."

She looks out onto the darkened sea of the warehouse, where the very rot of the Mind Flayer had seeded and spread and multiplied. And the numbers were still climbing. Waiting, out in the shadows for their noble sacrifice to the monster of flesh bone known as the Mind Flayer.

Or more specifically, the Mind Flayer's army.

"Not us."

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[liljungie]

MVP | Jeon Jungkook | AU 3

Pairing: [ soccer player] jungkook x reader

Warnings: angst | slight smut

Part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Masterlist

_

How am I gonna get out of this?!

Panic rush through me as I look anywhere but her,It's not like I can say it was raining because the weather today was extremely sunny not a single cloud in the sky.

So that was out of the question and I started to think of anything that I could pass the blame on other than the weather.

"Well.." i scratch the back of my head suddenly every word I know vanished into thin air, making it impossible to form a sentence she looked at me waiting "Uh..jimin" I clap my hands together as I speak to grab her attention " p-pulled another prank on me" I said the first words that came to mind hoping they came out clearly "oh you poor thing! I'll tell kookie to talk to him you're a lady jimin can't treat you like that!" She huffed in annoyance.

Ugh why is she so nice? I can see why Jungkook fell for her...if only she wasn't so damn nice to me maybe I'd hate her enough to push away the guilt.

"I-It's okay- really.. jimin and I joke like that a lot he's only getting back at me for putting powdered peppers in his boxers.." I tried to laugh at the end but it came out so awkward and well...fake. but she luckily went with it "Oh that's mean" she says with a scowl on her face "not gonna lie I was weirded out seeing you in my boyfriend's Jersey"she laughed nervously, "but I think Jungkook witnessed what happened" she smiled laughing at the end which I assume she was laughing at the situation or me..

I felt a lump in my throat form I went pale at her words, my hands start to sweat so I quickly rub them against my jeans laughing along with her.

"I gotta go shower now bye!" I yell behind me walking fast to my room so I avoid any more questions "yeah you smell like semin...jimin is so mean" I hear her yell after me

I cringe as I hear her words "I'm sorry jimin" I say to one one, under my breath as I close the door behind me letting out a sigh of relief but deep down guilt ate away at me...

///

A week passed, I hadn't seen Jungkook since that day.

he didn't even try to reach me so I didn't bother either, my heart was mayhem but maybe not seeing him was for the better.

Even though it tore me apart inside.

My exams and assignments took most of my time, I barely had time for myself anyway.

I was chilling in my room in the afternoon writing an essay I had to hand in Monday while listening to music.

It was finally the weekend I'm done with my exams but I had a few things to hand out still and I finally got around it.

I faintly hear a knock on my door and pause the song and slide my chair over to the door opening it.

To find her, dressed nicely make up and hair done to perfection, she smiled at me "Jungkook is taking me on a date!" She squealed as my heart dropped.

she pushed the door more open and twirled in the middle of my room, her yellow dress was just above her knees, making her glow like a star "how do I look?!" She smiled as she looked me in the eyes waiting for my answer.

"Stunning" I replied my face drained of color I swolled the lump in my throat heat prickling down my neck as I stare at her, hurt evident on my features, she was checking herself on the tall mirror I had beside my desk.

He was taking her out on a date? A date?!

My mind was still processing what she said, so he does have free time to take her on dates but not text me at all?! Not even once this whole week!

"Really?!" She squealed once again, she was so happy seems like even gravity couldn't hold her down she was skipping with happiness.

The things I'd do to be her...

I only nodded my head, I felt like a shook up can of soda that was going to burst soon, with glossy eyes I tried to keep looking at her but I couldn't. I turned away.

"I have been dying to spend time with him now that my exams are over I'm gonna be by his side every single day" she says her eyes glowing. Probably day dreaming about the 'date'

"Mhm that's nice" I say as I slide my chair back to my desk, I didn't know I was crying, I curse under my breath. I can't let her see me.

"Oh I'm sorry if I disturbed you" she finally noticed that I was studying and turned to me thankfully my hair covered the side of my head so she couldn't see my face "I'll leave you now so you can study okay?" She giggled and walked to the door opening it slowly

"Fighting _____!" She shouted her fist in the air cheering me on as if that would make it easier I only sent her a small smile with a nod then my eyes went back on the screen the letters were so blurry.

"oh and I'm spending the weekend at his place so don't wait for me!" She giggled, I felt my chest tighten as I heard her say that, seconds passed and I heard my bedroom door closed shut. Finally.

I let out a sigh that felt like a sob I tried to distract myself by writing more, I turned up the volume of the music I tied my hair up to cool me down. frustrated I let it fall on my shoulders...nothing worked.

Nothing could shut my thoughts off, all I could think of was her in his arms, in his lap, kissing and touching him.

I could see images of him kissing and holding her like he held me...

"_____ I'm leaving now bye!" I heard her faintly yell from the living room breaking me away from my trance a few moments of silence and right when I heard her shut the apartment door close. I threw my phone at the mirror she was infront of minutes ago it all shattered along with my phone screaming in frustration I fell to the floor sobbing.

he consumed every inch of me he took over every part of me, and it's my falut that I let him get to me this way.

This close.

I felt my body burn and ache until I couldn't feel anything anymore and sleep took over me.

///

I woke up to banging on the door I sat up, confused, I looked around I was on the floor in the middle of my room I looked at the watch on the wall it read 12 am.

I must have slept for a long time.

I heard the banging again but louder this time oh so I wasn't dreaming? I wanted to yell her name so she could open the door instead but I remembered...everything.

I found it hard to stand up, or seems like my heart couldn't bare to do anything I'm so out of it, I feel so numb and so hurt. That even standing was too much for me to take.

I made my way to the door. in the dark living room I turned on the spot lights to provide a bit of light in so I could see better, my eyes were swollen from how much I cried and my vision is still blurry from the tears.I move my hair out of my face as I walk to the door slowly.

I open the door and there he stood.

Jungkook.

He sighs relieved and pulls me towards him.

"Oh my fucking God I was so afraid" he says, holding me tighter.

I was astonished I must be dreaming this, this can't be... she was over at his place how did he get out?

He pulled away and looked at me almost analyzing my face "I was so worried!" He tells me "I called you so many times why didn't you pick up?!" He scolds his grip on my arms was tight

He did?

How come it's ringing didn't wake me up?

Then I remember how I threw it at the mirror and I don't know if it was still working for not, I need a new phone for sure it seems.

I pull away and he looked at me hurt that I pushed him lightly off of me "you didn't text or call this whole week why does it suddenly matter?" I ask raising my eyebrows, arms crossed as I look up at him waiting for the answer that I longed for this whole week.

"_____" he sighed as he rubbed his temple "I'm sorry I couldn't I was dealing with a lot" he stated, clearly he didn't want to talk about it so I dropped the topic because I just don't think it matters anymore. It won't go anywhere because if there's one thing I'm sure of is jungkook keeps to himself and there's no way you'll ever get something out of him.

"Why you were waiting for me to call you?" A playful grin on his features, I stop in my tracks and turn around looking at him in disbelief, is this what he thought of me? who am I kidding this is all I'm ever gonna be for him. Just for pleasure. He can disappear for as long as he wants and expects me to wait for him.

"Not at all..I could care less about you" I say avoiding his eyes walking slowly back to my room until suddenly I'm turned face to face with him "stop avoiding me!" He harshly tells me, his eyes stare into mine and I feel my body give up on me and surrender to his touch.

His gaze was strong and the more he stared at me, his eyes softened"... you were crying weren't you baby?" He asks, His voice was so soft and quiet I felt my heart ignite with life agai, the way he was holding my face between his hands now tracing my cheeks with his thumbs soothingly.

"N-No I wasn't-"  I groggily reply only for him to sigh "you don't have to lie to m-"

"Why are you here?" I ask cutting him off, pushing him away harder this time. I saw the way his face fell "you don't want me here?" He asks "you left her to see me?" He swoalled and bite his lip "yes" he answers in heart beat "..I told her I forgot my text book at taehyung's...and I just...I just wanted to see you" I look at his eyes sparkle for some reason he had this look on his face that just screamed at me to take him in my arms.

I used all my power to resist that urge and I stepped back, I feel tears start in my eyes again "Jungkook..." I whimpered

My heart aches because I know what I was going to say but my heart wasn't in it "we have to stop this" I cried

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened with shock and disbelief "_____ you can't do this...not now-please just listen to me-" he walks forward,his arms reach for mine I walk away from him pushing him away from me "we can't anymore...my heart can't take it!" I shouted tears fall endlessly, his gaze was too strong for me so I look away

"What are you saying _____?!" He shouted angrily "why push me away now? Huh?" He cried "tell me why are you doing this to us!" My back hits the wall behind me his hands come up on each side Trapping me.

I feel the emotions bottle up and boil inside me until they spill and I'm left feeling numb I met his eyes and the words I said next shocked him and myself..

"I love you!" I cried "Jungkook I love you!" I pause "but I can't do this anymore!" I tell him wiping my tears as more fall "please understand- I can't bear it I just-"

His lips closed on mine shutting me up.

The kiss was deep not his needy lustful kisses this was different...he kissed me passionately.

"Let me change your mind- I know I can" he pulled away his forehead touching mine "please baby..you can't do this..you can't do this to me!" I felt his tears drip down on my cheeks, seeing him like this broke my heart completely I let out a cry "but Jungkook it's wrong.." I whisper "she's sound asleep in your bed and you're...here with me" I tell him "this is not fair to her...this isn't fair to me! you have no idea of the pain I'm going through..." I say as I place my hands ontop of his hands that were holding my cheeks he had his eyes closed his breathing is uneven and shaky.

"Do you think I'm not suffering too?" He says his eyes bore into mine and I see the pain I feel swim in his eyes too "do you think this isn't hurting me?" He whispered

I shake my head "then break up with her!" I say loudly, to get it through his thick head.

"I can't!" He shouts "I just can't bring myself to!" He looks away from me as I taste my tears and stare at him heartbroken.

I cry "but you can bring yourself to see me in tears begging you to stay away when I want you?" I laugh "do I mean anything to you at all? do you even care about me?" I yell "do you even love me?" I whimpered, my chest heaving up and down.

"Yes I do _____!" He yells back. We're facing each other "stop I beg of you!" he cried tugging on his hair "seeing you cry because of me hurts like hell!" he says backing me up against the wall "good!" I reply my eyes sharply stare into his making his eyebrows raise "you drive me insane _____" he tells me placing his hands beside each side of my head "why can't I stop thinking of you! You! And the way you talk! your body! your scent! Anywhere I go all I think of is you!" He punched a hole in the wall right next to my face "so don't you dare and say that you don't matter to me..you consume me whole and I can't stay away" he pulls me closer his hands on my hips "let me love you _____..." he whispers.

"Let me take care of you stop being so stubborn angel and let me...please _____" he whispers his eyes held so much lust behind I felt his bulge against my inner thigh he leaves trail of kisses on my neck, I whimper and push him away with the little force left in me he stares at me angry.

I swallow the lump in my throat when he walks towards me again "you're horny and that's the only reason you're here" I state he stops dead in his tracks his face inches away from mine "you're only here for pleasure nothing else" I continue "at first it was an honest mistake but then it turned into a habit then I thought you loved me because why would you keep coming back?" I snorted tears pool in my eyes but I don't let them fall.

He wasn't worth it anymore "Jungkook I'm nothing but a game to you" I whisper "and I want out" I turn away from him his grip on my wrist stops me from walking away and he turns me to face him "tell me what I can do to prove you wrong!" His eyes pierce through mine he licks his lips "tell me what to do!" He says louder

I pull my hand out of his and stare into him intensely "I told you what to do" I swallow "because we can't keep doing this I'm done" I tell him walking to my room and I shut the door behind me.

He stood still even after the door had been shut, he was speechless.

Anger took over him he wanted to break your door open and have his way with you but your message was loud and clear so he turned away and closed the apartment door shut after him not wanting to argue with you anymore.

________

A/N: Hey I feel really stumped with this imagine so I need your opinion please how should I carry this on? I'm sorry for any mistakes and for the short part your opinion on this matters so please help me out here!

[lovingxreader]

Is It Because I’m A Woman

Chapter Two: Fight Me

Rated M

Word Count: 1.8K

WARNING!!!! This chapter includes strong language and heavy abuse.

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE!!! I hope everyone is having a lovely day! I was so surprised by how many people liked the first chapter, so here is the second one! Don’t worry I’m already in the process of writing chapter three so look forward to the next update! Feel free to like and comment and I can add you to the tag list at the bottom! Anyway enjoy.

“No, No, No you two can’t be here.” I spoke as I put down the hammer and dashed over to them. “Out, now.” My voice wavered as I spoke.

“Who are you? Why are you here? Where is the fat shop owner?” The one with the lute questioned. I placed my calloused hands on his chest as I gently tried to push them back out of the door. “ wait are you the one who actually does the forging?” He spoke in surprise. He continued to ask spit fire questions as he pushed back against me.

“Stop it!” I raised my voice as I pleaded with them once again. The cloaked man in the armor grab the loot player’s shoulder pulling him back and away from me.

“Jaskier, stop.” The cloaked man said as he held Jaskier away from me, his voice being deep and gravely.

“Please leave now. He’ll see you; it’ll end badly for both of us if he catches you two here.” I begged as I became more frustrated at them seemingly ignoring my warnings.

“Geralt…” Jaskier spoke as he looked at me with pity filled gaze. “Just look at her...can’t you see them too?” Geralt caught my stare once more before quickly shutting the door behind them. He held Jaskier by the collar and dragged him behind a large pile of scrap metal right before the door swung open once more. Father entered aggressively as I yelped. He grabbed a fist full of my hair using it to hold me still before landing his fist into my face. I tasted the familiar iron taste of blood in my mouth as I felt my lip bust open and began to bleed. I knew better than to cry when it came to the beatings, but there it began. As tears ran down my cheeks as he dropped me to the ground. Father put his mud covered boot against my face as he held my head down against the ash covered wood flooring.

“I was just enjoying some drinks down at the inn when a buddy of mine came up to me. Do you want to know what he said to me [y/n]?” Father asked before lifting his food and kicking me in the stomach. “He said; Fredrick what are you doing here? I thought I heard you pounding away at the shop. Was that ugly bastard of a witcher there with you too? I thought I saw him walk in.” Father said before he slammed his foot into my ribcage. You could hear the Audible crack of my ribs breaking from the force. Kneeling his obese body down to my level he used my hair to lift my crying face up to look at him. “Oh honey what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Papa is sorry, he didn’t mean to hurt you.” he spoke in a sweet tone. “Is it because you’re scared cause you’re hiding something from me?” His tone began to take a more sinister tone. I shook my head frantically my mouth opening and closing like a fish as I tried to figure out what words to say. He leaned in closer to my face; I could smell the cheap ale on his breath. He growled before speaking once more, “Tell me where you are hiding them whore!”

“I don’t know where they are father, I swear.” I said, my voice cracking as I try to hold in another sob. Father let go of my hair before rising to his full height. He gathered up mucus before spitting it onto me. Turning swiftly on his heels he walked out the door, slamming it behind him. I laid there for a moment quietly sobbing before I heard shuffling of the men coming out of their hiding spot. They slowly approached me. AS they stood over me, I looked up at them. My eye beginning to swell shut as a dark ring of bruise began to take shape around it. “You did this...now please fucking leave.” I spoke as my voice wavered with emotions of anger, sadness, and pain. I sat up slowly, wincing as I could feel the freshly broken ribs screaming at me to stop moving. Pulling my knees to my chest I hid my face under my hair. Suddenly I felt an arm slide up under my knees and against my lower back before gently lifting me. I flinched away from him at the first initial touch; I opened my watery eyes to see Geralt carrying me over to an empty table before setting me down. He gently brushed my bangs away from my face before softly grabbing my chin turning my head from side to side, assessing the extent of the damage. I avoided his gaze I swatted his hand off before wiping my tears away. He let out a soft grunt before stepping away from me. Jaskier stepped forward and gave a look of apology as he reached out to hold my hand. Pulling my hand away from him I held it to my chest as I avoided their gaze. “Will you listen to me now?” I asked sternly before lifting my gaze slowly before glaring at the two.

“We just wanted to see how much longer on his sword… Your father said it would be done before the shop closed. We went back to go get it and the door was locked.” Jaskier spoke taking a step away from me. Glancing over at Geralt I met his eyes once more before inhaling, wincing at the pain before sighing. Gently sliding myself off the table I began to put weight on my legs. Suddenly as I put weight onto them my legs gave out from under me. Before I could go crashing to the floor, Jaskier grabbed ahold of my waist to stabilize me. Yelping I pulled his hands off before I made my way over to the anvil using the tongs to place the now cooled blade back into the white coals of the fire.

“Not long.”

------

I worked in silence as the two took a seat on the same table they had set me down on, the only sound in the shop being the sound of the fire and the rhythmic banging of my hammer shaping the scorching metal. Keeping my back to them I reassembled the blade wrapping new leather straps around the handle as a finishing touch. Turning to them I held the sword in my hand. Jaskier gave me a look of astonishment as he looked at me holding the heavy blade in one hand. “Why do you look at me like that? Is it because I’m a woman, you think I’m not capable to forge a blade?” I asked plainly before walking over to them.

“We were just expecting your father. It’s him the people around the continent speak of for his fine craftsmanship not...you.” Jaskier spoke softly as if his words could hurt me.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I commented as I watched Geralt stand from the table, take the blade from my hands gently before looking over the finished weapon with an impressed look. “Assuming by the damage of the blade when it first came to me, I’m just going to make the assumption that you’re adventures. Yet you two seem unlikely to travel together. Are you lovers?” I teased as I walked back to sit on the warm anvil. Geralt gave a sideways glare at me as Jaskier gasps loudly and dramatically at the comment.

“You’re Certainly full of fire.” Jaskier said as he crossed his arms in a pout.

“What’s a witcher by the way? I hear people saying there is a witcher in town.” I asked curiously. The men looked at each other before Jaskier looked back at over at me before speaking,

“You don’t know what a witcher is?”

“Does it look like I go outside?”

“You certainly looked fine this morning hiding in that alley.” Geralt spoke from where he was now sheathing his blade before leaning against the wall by the door. Glancing back at the golden eyed man before looking towards the fire I spoke again,

“You know people say witchers are monsters playing dress up as humans...am I right?” I glanced down at my feet before looking up seeing Geralt approaching me. The man stood in front of me before handing me a small cotton pouch, the clinking of coins rang as he dropped it into my hand.

“Use this and get yourself out of here.” He spoke, his deep voice sent chills across my skin. He turned to Jaskier nodding his head motioning for him to follow his leave. Standing up I grabbed ahold of Geralt’s hand before giving me the same pouch back.

“I haven’t earned this; He’ll kill me anyway if I tried to leave.” I spoke softly before letting go of his wrist. Turning back towards me he grunted before putting the coin purse back into my hand. We stood in silence as Geralt and I glared into each other’s eyes. Jaskier cleared his throat breaking up our fiery glares at each other before I turned to look at him.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Jaskier asked as he put his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t want you coming with me in the first place; I don’t need another lost puppy coming with me too.” Geralt spoke harshly as he made his way back towards the door. Rolling my eyes I put the coin bag that he had slipped back into my hand into my apron pocket. Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm pulling him to the side before he could walk out the door, and began speaking in a hushed tone. The witcher grunted deeply at Jaskier. He looked me over from my swollen cheek, black eye, busted lip, down my bruised arms and my sorry excuse for clothing and dirty bare feet. “She can’t even use a sword, it’s already hard enough to make sure you don’t do something stupid and get in my way. I don’t need her on my plate either.” He growled.

“I don’t need you two. Also don’t speak about me like I’m not right here.” I spoke up before they could start yelling at each other. “I can handle my own with a blade. You don’t think I wouldn’t know how to use the weapons I make. That makes you more of a boorish man than I thought.” I said harshly as I continued, “I don’t need some wannabe jester and his lap dog protecting me.” My voice rose as I surprised myself at my boldness.

“Oh really? Then how about a wager.” Jaskier budded in. He stepped forward between Geralt and myself before speaking once more, “if you can beat Geralt in a sparring match, you can come with us. If you lose, you take the money and find another way to get out of here and away from you father. Does that work for the both of you?” Looking from Jaskier to Geralt I nodded my head gently in agreement. Geralt sighed before whispering under his breath.

“Fuck.”

Tag list: @queenblueoffire @fandomsfanman @geraltsadventures

[holylulusworld]

More than my daddy’s boss

Summary: Two years later you are still with Dean only for your father to ruin your life.

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader, Benny Lafitte, unnamed father

Warnings: angst, age gap (Dean is around 38; Reader 25), smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, shower sex, secrets, ‘the family business’, violence, blood, language, protective/possessive Dean, comforting, fluff

Sequel to: My daddy’s boss

“Baby, you take me so well, every fucking time.” Pressed against the cool tile wall, your legs around Dean’s waist you hold tight onto his shoulder as he merciless plunges into you.

Dean was on a business trip for over a week and now he wants to catch up with the time he lost to have his way with you. Cries along with chants of your lover’s name leave your lips as you rest your head against the tile wall, just watching Dean working his cock into you.

“Such a sight, Y/N. Impaled on my cock, nipples stiff and your eyes only fixated on me, Sweetheart. Shit, you are the best fuck I ever had.” Cursing Dean slides harder into you, pressing another high out of your sore pussy.

“Dean…oh…god!” Nails biting into Dean’s shoulders you come crying out his name till your voice is hoarse.

“That’s it, Baby, …fuck…I’m gonna fill you up.” Trembling you feel Dean coat your walls, not caring about the dirty noises he makes.

Panting he nips at your neck, still holding your body in a tight grip. You are his and he wants you to feel it in your bones. For over two years he makes sure no other man comes close to you, not even your father.

Last month he had to send Benny to your father’s house as he didn’t stop calling your old phone. The phone Dean let disappear to make sure you only have contact with people he approved. Dean calls it love and protection – Sam calls it control and possessiveness.

“Missed you D’. How was your business trip?” While Dean is busy marking your neck with another hickey you slide your fingers through his damp hair.

“Boring without you. I wish you could’ve come with me. Why didn’t your boss give you a week off?” Dean mutters against your skin.

Hating the fact, you refused to give up your job. Still working for as Dean calls him ‘Magnum’ you earn enough money to be independent and that’s important to you.

“I love my job, D’, you know that. Mr. Masters tried anything to give me a week off, but my colleague got sick and I had to help him out. Next time I’ll get a few days off, Baby.” Smirking Dean presses his forehead to yours, groaning dirty words against your lips.

“Love it when you call me Baby, Y/N. Why don’t you quit your job and work for me?” Tracing your nipple with his thumb Dean causes a gasp to leave your lips and his smirk gets wider.

“Dean, I love you and what we have but I need more. I want to be independent and make my own money. I don’t want anyone to believe I got the job as I’m banging my hot boss.” Chuckling Dean nips at your lips, growling when you fist his hair harshly.

“I’m a hot boss, Sweetheart? Why not working for me then? Could show you my ass and all every day and bend you over my desk to make you scream during lunch break.” Dean won’t give up till you quit your job, so he keeps on bugging you.

“No, Winchester…” Narrowing your eyes you huff as Dean pulls out of you, pouting. “Won’t work, Dean. I’m always with you. Day and night, okay. I barely have any friends left, don’t have contact with my father. Let me have my job, Baby.”

“I’ll make you a better offer…” Dean states before he walks out of the shower, leaving you stunned behind.

Lately, you have the feeling your boyfriend gets possessive about you. Every time a man tries to get closer to you Dean or Benny are there to scare him off. Even Sam mentioned Dean is like an Alpha, trying to mark his territory.

Taking a deep breath, you walk out of the bathroom, to move your hands over Dean’s back, kissing his shoulder softly.

“D’, I’m all yours. Just let me have one thing you can’t control. I’ve got the feeling I’m losing control over my life every day more since we are a thing. I love you but sometimes you suffocate me.”

“I love you, Y/N. That’s not suffocating. It’s called caring about my girlfriend.” Dean is pissed and you can feel the tension in his body.

“Sorry, Baby. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just…” Sighing you cup Dean’s cheek to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Let me do my job. Masters is no threat for you, D’. He’s gay…”

Two weeks later you can’t believe you lost your job. All these years you thought Mr. Masters appreciates your work but instead of promoting you a new colleague got the position you wanted for so long.

In the end, Mr. Masters told you he’s not satisfied with your work any longer and suggested to ‘let you go’. While you carry your box toward Dean’s house you sniffle lightly. You put so much effort into your job for nothing.

The door opens before you can get your keys out. “Baby, already home?” Dean cocks a brow, taking the box out of your hands, glancing at the inherits. “Something wrong?”

Sobbing you hold out your arms and Dean drops the box to hold you in his arms. “He…” Choking on your words you cry into Dean’s chest and he has no clue what possibly could be wrong.

“Just tell me, Baby Girl.”

“My boss gave the promotion he promised me someone working for him for two months. Masters said that he’s no longer satisfied with my work and fired me. I’ve got no clue what I did wrong, Dean.” Sniffling you let Dean gently rub your back.

He’s clenching his jaw to the point of pain. Dean took a step back, wanted you to keep your job only for your boss to fire you. “I’ll rip him a new one. Son of a bitch!”

“No. He’s not worth it. I thought my boss is satisfied with my work, Dean. I gave my all and now…”

“Shhh…you will take a few days to calm and look for a new job. You can still work for me, but I know you don’t want to. I’ll help you if you want me to. Just stop crying, I can’t see tears leaving your beautiful eyes, Baby Girl.”

Picking you up Dean carries you toward your shared bedroom to let you cry into your favorite pillow. “I’ll be right back, okay. I’ll cancel a meeting and we can talk about your asshole of a boss.”

Walking out of the bedroom Dean dials Benny’s number, silently cursing. “Benny, my girl got fired. Find out who’s behind this. Till last week her boss was almost swooning about Y/N and now he fires my girl? I’ll break his face…”

“What do you mean with her father told you my girl is working as an escort? What the actual fuck! Son of a bitch!” Throwing papers in your former boss’s face Dean glares at the way smaller man.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let someone with a low moral work for me, Mr. Winchester. I have a reputation to lose. She can’t work for me and make money with…” Clearing his throat Mr. Masters points at his cock.

“Did you just assume my girl sucks other guys cocks for money, you worthless prude? My girl is an angel! She only was with two guys in her whole life. Only as she has a worthless piece of shit as a father doesn’t mean she’s a whore! You will pay her for the rest of the year and apologize to me right now!”

Benny stands behind Mr. Masters's chair, squeezing the trembling man’s shoulders hard. “Mr. Winchester gave you an order. Follow it.” Benny rumbles squeezing your former boss’s shoulder harder and the man gasps.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester. Sir.”

Dean silently nods before he leaves the room to let Benny finish his job.

Outside Dean checks his messages while Benny does his job, making sure Mr. Masters knows from now on no one messes with Dean Winchesters girl.

“Dean…” Sniffling you rush into your boyfriend’s arms as you hold a bunch of pictures in your hands. With trembling fingers, you show him the pictures, or rather an advertisement for an escort service using your picture.

“What the…?” Cursing Dean rips the pictures into pieces. “Everything is going to be alright, Baby Girl. Your boss fired you as your fine daddy showed him these advertisements. I’m going to visit your daddy and make sure he knows his place.”

Tears roll down your cheeks while you crumble another picture. “How can he do this to me, Dean? I lost my job and none of my friends calls me back. They all believe this is true…”

Cupping your cheek Dean wipes your tears away with his thumb. “No one hurts my girl. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you are innocent, okay. How about you take a warm bath and I call a friend to help me.”

“Do you believe this…” Sniffling you point at the pictures and Dean gasp, bringing you into his arms.

“I’m not a nice guy sometimes too, but I do love you, Sweetheart. I told you about the trick and all. I would never believe this shit, okay. You’re only my dirty girl.” Nodding you let Dean wipe more tears away.

“You’re a good man. An ass for tricking my dad back then, but you didn’t force me to have hot sex with you, D’. My dad did this on purpose to hurt me. You were just a horny old man.” Giggling you watch Dean’s eyes darken before his lips are on yours, devouring your mouth.

“I’m not old! But you’re right, I was horny and after your cute ass. Now, bath, bed and relax. I’ve got this, Sweetheart.”

“Who are you really, Winchester? This is not business as usual.” Your father pants as Benny hits his face again, causing his lip to split.

“Smart, Mr. Y/L/N.” Smirking Dean scapes a chair over the floor in the cold room Benny brought your father to.

Sitting on the chair Dean gets his gun out, resting the hand holding it onto his thigh. “I’m not just a businessman. Did you ever hear about Purgatory?”

Gasping your father starts shaking. “This can’t be, this organization got destroyed years ago. None of the mob survived according to the news.” Eyes darting between Benny’s fists covered in your father’s blood and Dean’s gun your father starts panting.

“Do you always believe what the guys on TV tell you?” Pinching your father's cheek with his fingers Benny smirks. “Only our enemies got killed, people not following orders or too dumb to keep their mouths shut.”

“You see, Y/N is my girl, the woman I love and she just lost the job she loved because of you. Her friends don’t call her back and she’s crying for over a week and I can tell…” Now Dean gets up to aim his gun to your father's forehead, smirking as he pees his pants. “I hate seeing my girl cry for sure.”

“I didn’t…my wife…she…”

“You..what…” Mocking your father Dean taps the barrel of his gun to his forehead. “Speak in a normal sentences, asshole. You tried to hurt my girl!”

“I wanted to blackmail you, make some money. I thought…I would never…I’m sorry…” Sniffling your father looks up at Dean, begging him silently to not use his gun.

Dean smirks, unlocking his gun before he pulls the trigger. A scream escapes your father's lips as he realizes the bullet never hit him.

“Dude! What’s that smell…” Benny waves his hand in front of his nose, scrunching it up in disgust.

“I think our friend just shit his pants.” Dean chuckles, securing his gun.

“Mr. Winchester…please…” Fisting your father's hair Dean gets a knife out to carve an ___ (the first letter of your name) into his cheek. Blood is running down your father's face, and he shakes in fear.

“This is your last warning. Y/N is my girl, my family. You say her name ever again…you die. Every day you look into the mirror this…” Tapping your fathers’ cheek with the knife Dean’s features darken. “…will remind you that Y/N is the only reason I let you live. One word to anyone about what happened tonight, and you wish I ended you right now.”

“Shall I dump him in front of his house, Chief?”

“No.” Tossing twenty bucks at your father Dean turns around. “He can call a cab. We won’t ruin our car for this stinking, worthless piece of shit. Let’s go. My girl needs me, Benny.”

Before following his boss Benny cuts the ropes holding your father open, leaning close to his ear.

“I suggest you forget what happened here and never tell anyone. Y/N is a nice girl and I don’t want her to go to your funeral right now. Boss showed mercy tonight. Normally you would be dead by now. Be grateful…”

“How do you feel, Baby Girl?” Walking into the bedroom, warm tea in his hands Dean watches your face with concern. You must’ve cried even more as your eyes are puffy and red. “Don’t worry about your job. Just work for me, Y/N. You can work with Sam if you think that’s better.”

“I can’t…” Sniffling you twist the blanket in your hand, trying to hide what scares you to hell and back.

“Baby, come on. Sammy won’t bite you. Promised. Only I’m allowed to bite your cute ass.” Placing the tea onto the nightstand at your side of the bed Dean cups your cheeks to kiss your tears away. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…” Choking on your words you show Dean the positive pregnancy test in your hand. “It was an accident, I swear. I don’t know how this could happen…” Crying even harder you gasp as Dean moves his arms around you, shushing you genty.

“Baby, I’m happy. I always wanted to become a daddy. Now I’m going to have a baby with the woman I love. Now stop crying. I want to call Sammy and tell him the good news.”

“You’re happy?”

“Damn right, Sweetheart.” Chuckling Dean pecks your lips. “Can we name the baby Impala when it’s a boy?” He asks cocking a brow and you take your pillow and hit his head hard.

“I’m not going to call my son Impala, Winchester…”

“That’s not over…” Pointing at your belly Dean smirks. “Gonna call him Impala…”

“No way…” Giggling you let Dean nuzzle his nose into your neck. “Love you, Baby Girl.”

“Love you too, D’.”

“You and me. Together we will rule this godforsaken town.” Dean whispers in your ear and you’ve got no clue what he means but you nod, simply enjoying his strong arms wrapped around you.

SPN Forever Tags

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[nctwd127]

Arranged Marriage.

Chapter Twenty.

Warning: Suicidal thoughts and attempt, mentions of sexual assault, a heavy and emotional chapter in general. Please read with caution and take a break when needed. Please always remember that there is always someone out there willing to listen to you. Please don’t ever hesitate to reach out to someone. 

Please please, do not read if you’re easily triggered, just message me and I’ll sum up the chapter for you. 

Word Count: 3088

“(Y/N))! Please open the door.” Yuta shouted on the other side of the door, banging against it. He’s been at it for the last two hours meanwhile I’ve made no sound, barely even turned under the sheets.

With no noise, no sound, no nothing, I’d hope he think I magically dispread and leave me be.

My phone was still dead somewhere in this room and I’ve made no effort to move from where I’ve been laying under my covers. It felt safe and warm here, more than it will ever feel outside this blanket.

Nothing felt real, nothing was real.

The thought of Lucas kept pondering in my brain, all of it making me feel broken and in pieces. There was nothing more that I wanted than to be in his arms and feel protected but I know I couldn’t. Not now or ever again.

With everything that I’ve already thrown on him, there was no way that I was going to add this on top. I couldn’t do that to him, it would be too much. Besides, I know he would react and try to basically murder Jaehyun. And as much as that would be well deserved, there would a risk of Jaehyun telling Yuta the truth.

And if that’s the case, the outcome would be horrid. Everything would be worse than it is now. I have to go through this alone, I have to suffer on my own. In a silence so deafening I can feel my heartbeat all over my body.

This wasn’t supposed to happen! I was supposed to marry Doyoung and live the life I wanted away from this. Away from Yuta and the past we shared, away from the nightmares. Away from everything I tried to forget the last eight years.

I just wanted my life to be the same again, I don’t care what it changed anymore. I just wanted my old life back, I wanted to be back with Doyoung. I wanted him to be home again, to take me away from here and pretend none of this ever happened.

My wishful soul caused my tears to pool out my eyes, weeping into the air out loud. My throat was raw with pain as I cried again. My hands clawed at my skin, leaving red marks along my legs and arms. There was no words to describe how much I wanted to take this skin off and grow a new one.

“(Y/N), open the door please. I’m begging you.” Yuta pleaded outside still.

A sharp hatred grew in the depths of my heart hearing his voice. All of this was his fault. If he had just put a stop to this, if he had just let me go when I asked the first time, none of this would have never happened.

If Yuta had never lost his memory, nothing that happened to me would have happened. We’d still be together and we’d be happy, I would have my fucking baby in my arms.

His knocking kept ringing through my room and the hatred only grew. My body aching and screaming in pain, I went to the door and opened it. His fist stopped midair when he took in my appearance, his eyes going wide.

“Leave me alone! I never want to see you in my miserable life again Nakamoto! Just leave me alone! Go away.” I screamed at him with tears running down my face.

Yuta blinked a few times, not understanding anything that was going on right now or why I was suddenly yelling at him when things have been fine between us for the last two weeks. He took a step forward and tried to touch me but I backed away and slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again. Just leave me alone.”

A hurt flashed in his eyes, “(Y/N), what happened? What’s wrong?” There was so much worry in his voice and some familiarity in his tone but I didn’t pay attention to it. His eyes looked at my skin.

He saw everything that Jaehyun did to me, he saw the marks on my neck, the bruises on my hands. The clawing’s I made on my arms. Worst of all, he saw the hurt and the brokenness I carried in my eyes. Somehow, he understood that these markings weren’t made willingly.

“You’re what happened!” I yelled at him, suddenly balling my fist and hitting his chest. “You ruined my life! You ruined everything! I hate you, I hate you! You took everything away from me Yuta.” I cried harder.

He didn’t fight it and he didn’t react, he just took it. He let me bang against his chest until I dropped to the floor, barely breathing through my crying. He soon joined me on the floor being cautious about touching me.

“(Y/N), please tell me what happened to you, who did this?” He asked placing his hand on mine but I flinched away from him. I looked up at him and even though he was blurry, I could see the tears in his eyes.

“You did. You did this to me. You ruined my whole life and you don’t even know how. Don’t knock on my door again. Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me.” I took the rings off that ruined everything and left them on the floor near him.

“I want nothing to do with you. Not now or ever again Yuta.”

With all the strength I had in my body, I pulled myself off the floor and walked back into my room. Closing and locking the door, I slide down it. My knees were up to my chest and my head was resting on them, I cried harder.

I choked on my sobs and could practically drown in my tears. I didn’t want to live this life. Not like this. Not with the terrible reminders haunting me every waking moment. In my home, on my skin, everywhere and anywhere I go.

The day passed by and no sound came from the outside again. The sunlight faded and the darkness covered everything. I laid on the floor in front of the door, I had no energy to get up or move so I stayed here.

There were steps coming up the stairs and hushed chattering. It was multiple voices so it wasn’t just Yuta. At first I didn’t recognize the other voices but then I heard them loud and clear because they stopped at my door. Then came a light knock.

“Baby?”

It was Lucas.

The air got caught in my lungs and my heart dropped. Why was he here? I couldn’t handle seeing him right now, I couldn’t even handle hearing his voice. The anxiety of everything came up, I was already barely breathing.

“Open the door please (Y/N).” Hendery pleaded giving the doorknob a try. They all sighed when nothing happened. As much as my whole body wanted too, I couldn’t.

Another light knock vibrated the door against my back, “At least let us know that you’re there, that you’re awake? Or okay? Anything please.” Now it was Ten’s voice that sounded through the thick piece of wood.

“How long has she been like that?” Lucas asked. His voice was full of worry and hurt, anything that happened to me hurt him. And that was the worst thing that I could have thought about because it broke my heart.

More than it already was, I didn’t want him to feel like that. I didn’t want him to suffer because of me, because of the consequences my life brought me. He didn’t deserve that, he deserved more. More than me and the shitty life I lived.  

“Since yesterday afternoon. I came home and came to look for her to tell her something. But when I came up here,” Yuta suddenly stopped talking. Like if he just realized something.

“What?” Ten asked.

“She wasn’t in here, I mean in her room. I knocked on her door and she didn’t answer so I opened it. I looked in her room and she wasn’t in there.” Yuta started to ramble, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

If he didn’t see me in here when he came looking for me and he didn’t see me come home. Then he knows that I was in the house. The look on his face from earlier told me that he knew in that moment what happened to me. And now he was going to find out where. All of them were.

“She wasn’t in her room. She wasn’t in the library… I didn’t see her come home because she was already in the house. She was in the fucking house.” Yuta’s voice started to get louder with anger because of the realization.

“What are you talking about Nakamoto?” Hendery questioned his sudden outburst of anger.

I got off the floor slowly as the realization started getting to Yuta, I didn’t want them to find out like this. Not Hendery, not Ten. Definitely not Lucas. None of them should be here now. My shaking hand was on the handle when Yuta spoke again.

“She was in the one place I didn’t look for her.”

His feet were first to walk away and then the rest followed. No. No. No. I heard a door be thrown open and hit the wall, hard. I moved none of the clothes, I didn’t fix the bed. Everything looked like what it was, a crime scene.

“Please no.” I whispered against my still closed door. “Please no.” I repeated over and over again until the tears started to fall and I dropped to my knees with a thud.

“Not like this.” I breathed out, fighting for air. “Please not like this.”

There was no noise for the following minutes. Everything was sinking in on everyone. No one including me knew how to feel. It was out there in the open now. Not only I knew of the horrible thing that happened but so did the most important people in life, past and present.

The footsteps returned and then a light barely even there knock.

“I am begging you to please open the door. Let me be with you (Y/N). You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Lucas’s voice was barely above a whisper, he sounded broken. The rest weren’t talking and I wasn’t even sure they were standing near the door but I could somehow feel their brokenness too. All of them were hurting not just for me but because none of them knew how to help me.

My heart was barely holding on and it was too much. I didn’t want to put him through this, I didn’t want to put none of them through this. So I did what needed to be done.

“Please leave. Don’t come back, none of you. I don’t want to see any of you.” I whispered into the door, hoping it was loud enough for them to hear. My voice wouldn’t go higher than this right now.

The doorknob jiggled for a split second before it stopped, “We love you (Y/N), so much.” Ten whispered, his voice was low too and the devastation ran deep.

“We love you (Y/N).” Hendery repeated heavyhearted, like he was on the verge of tears. I’m sure they all were at this point.

I heard shuffling and then footsteps descending down the stairs, they were leaving. The front door opened and closed. I don’t know why but I went over to my window and looked down. It was too dark for them to see into my room but I could see them.

My three boys, stood outside the house standing in a circle. They just looked at each other and wiped away at their faces. All of them were shedding tears. Lucas looked up into my bedroom window and it almost felt like he was looking right at me.

His face was sorrowful, a look I never again in life wanted to see on his face. He must feel so useless not knowing what he could do to help me. It might kill him to know that there is nothing that will help me.

Nothing besides ending it all, once and for all.

I wanted this suffering to end, I wanted this to stop. The pain in my heart wanted to disappear so bad, it was making it impossible to think of anything else. The only thing that kept going on in my mind since this happened was for it to end.

A soft knock came from my door again, forcing me to look away from Lucas. I didn’t say anything and waited for Yuta to say whatever he needed to say.

“I left some food out here for you. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, please eat, even if it’s small. There’s some water out here for you too. I’ll be in my room with the door closed so you can come out to grab it.” He explained from the outside.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry this happened because of me. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you like I had promised.” He sobbed deeply.  

I couldn’t find my voice to answer him even though I tried hard too. I wanted to take back the words I said earlier, this wasn’t his fault. It was no one’s but Jaehyun’s. He was solely to blame for this.

Through all the hurt and pain I was going through, I didn’t quite catch onto Yuta’s words and I should have. Because he said ‘like I had promised.’

Past tense.

When (Y/N) and I got to my house, we went straight to my room and she crawled into bed. I thought it was a little weird since she’s always a ball of energy even after school.

I could tell there was something wrong when she didn’t ask me to join her, instead she laid on her belly and buried her face in the pillow. It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk just yet about what was bothering her so I did what I do best.

I changed into my pajamas and then joined her on the bed, I threw my leg over her body and scratched my nails down her back in a gentle manner. I placed a kiss at the top of her head and whispered that I loved her in her ear.

Undeniably, that always made her smile and feel better. She turned her face to look at me with a small smile and returned the affection with a small peck.

“What’s wrong princess?” I asked running my fingers through her hair now. She closed her eyes letting herself get carried away in the feeling of being protected and cared for in my presences.

(Y/N) turned her body under my leg and cuddled herself into my chest while I kept petting her hair and held her tight against me, “Get some sleep baby.”

Humming in response, she brought herself closer to me and started to fall asleep to the sound of my steady heartbeat against her ear. I like to think it’s the most calming sound she’s ever heard. I hoped she’d want to hear it every time she fell asleep.

“My precious love bug, I don’t know what happened to you today but whatever it is I hope you know that it’s going to be okay. You have me and I always be at your side to protect you from all the bad in the world.”

I hugged her a little tighter and placed another kiss on her head, “Now and forever I promise I’ll protect you princess.”  

Sleep much like the last two days was almost impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing everything that happened. I kept feeling it, all over. The disgust, the hate. The pain and torture. And worst of all, the desperate need to make this all end.

I haven’t left my room still, not that I was planning too anyway. Yuta would knock on my door three times a day. Morning, afternoon and night. He didn’t try to get me to open the door anymore, it was just him letting me know that there was food and water outside the door.

Sometimes I would take it, others it would just say there till the next meal. It was usually his cooking that would be on the other side, the times that I opened, it was always my favorite foods. Which was really considerate of him.

The whole situation was actually really considerate, he was trying his best to take care of me during this time but I just didn’t want it. Any of it. None of it. Not even a spec of it.

Hendery, Lucas and Ten have also come by to see if there has been progress, which they see hasn’t been any. They would sit outside the door for about two hours and just talk to me. I never answered, even when I wanted too.

I just didn’t want to do this, to go back into life like this. This isn’t how I wanted to live. I didn’t want to be married to Yuta anymore, I never did. Not since the accident. I just wanted this to be over and end already.

The tub was slowly being filled and I just walked around my room, cleaning a bit in the meantime. I looked at my still dead phone and decided that now would be a good time to charge it. Not like I would hear any of the alerts anymore anyway.

Once the tub was filled enough, I sat on the edge for a bit. Thinking things through, if this is actually what I wanted. I decided that it was. I wanted my suffering to end. I didn’t want to live like this. Not with the constant reminders of my unhappiness and misery I carried in my soul.

I got in the tub and it felt weird to know that I wasn’t emotional. I wasn’t crying, for once I felt indifferent. I felt numb, I had finally given up. I closed my eyes and laid down in the warm water.

At first I held my breath just to see how long I could, turns out it wasn’t long before I needed to breath. But I fought against it and stayed under. I opened my eyes and saw a figure appear above me.

“It’s time.” I thought to myself and stopped holding my breath.

Masterlist 

~~~

Starting this week, I will no longer be posting new chapters every week. I will now start posting EVERY other week. 

[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt. 06

You’re Not Alone

06/16/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7,713

Masterpost          Warnings: sexual descriptions, violence, language, ANGST!

A/N: Since there is only one or two more chapters for this one, I think I’m going to finish this one out before I go back to Parallel and the Brightest Star. That’s not to say I’m not working on either of those. I am. But I’ll focus on posting these first since it’s almost over. I hope you like this one. Also, I legit didn’t edit so, mind the typos. I’ll come back and read it tomorrow when I’m not so crosseyed. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Bucky’s waiting in the small living room of the floor you share with him and Steve.

He's sitting on the sofa, black cargo covered legs spread wide. Feet flat on the ground and his hands tucked under his strong arms, crossed over his chest.

He’s not making any attempt to hide his displeasure. The rough tick in his jaw, the glare he has aimed at the TV is really for you and Steve. You know it is.

But why is he angry? Holding hands at the meeting?

When he turns it on you, that raging scowl, you release Steve’s hand as guilt builds inside your belly.

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, searching hopefully, despite his anger.

“Sounded like you were having fun. I was gonna go get you but Captain Spangled beat me there.” He’s bitter.

Oh no. Your heart stops as you realize that he must have seen. Must have heard.

What did you do?

The jealous sting in his voice you expect and the harsh glare thrown at you and Steve is more than understandable.

“Bucky…” You begin, but you don’t get much further.

“No.” He says, flat, unfeeling. For the first time in many years, you see the Winter Soldier.

The Soldat is diluted in Bucky. Suppressed. Bucky is almost free of him after years of careful reconditioning and therapy and recovery, but he’s there. Cold. Distant. And you did this to him.

You.

You’re scum. You’re shit. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You’re the worst kind of person on the planet.

You’re sorry but you don’t regret what you did with Steve.

You need to fix this.

“Bucky…please…” You beg, moving towards him.

He allows you to step up to him. He doesn’t pull back when you take hold of his forearms. You see the subtle shift in his eyes as your touch weakens his armor. The muscles beneath your hands tighten however, tense.

“Please. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” You promise.

You know it’s not enough but you want it to be. You want your words to heal his hurt. You need for him to trust in that because you love Steve, it doesn’t take away from how you feel for him. For Bucky.

“No.” Bucky says, finality in his tone.

It guts you. A knife plunged into the soft fleshy bits of you, twisted and yanked pulling with it everything that makes you whole and happy.

“Buck-" Steve tries but when Bucky’s ice-like eyes find his warm storm blues, he stops talking.

“I said no. My answer,” He looks back down at you and speaks to injure. He wants it to hurt you and you can’t blame him. “Is no.”

You had already known that what you shared with Steve down by the lake, in Brazil, and last night cuddled safely in his arms would be all you’d get.

You’d known it and it still hurts. It’s still agonizing.

“You’re gonna leave me now, right?” Bucky spits.

You’ve never seen him so angry and his rage burns you. It takes lashes at you, scarring you.

You don’t want to leave him. Of course, you don’t!

You’d talked a big game but now that you’re facing the choice, you can’t make your feet move. You want them both but the idea of walking away from Bucky is unbearable.

You won’t do that to him. You can’t.

You cry, tears spilling quick and sudden as you grip his arms harder, trying to pull him closer but he’s a statue. Immovable. Michelangelo’s David. Cut and perfect and stoic.

“No…” Your guttural sob chokes you.

How do you walk away? How do you live your life knowing they’re both somewhere loving someone else? They’re yours. Both of them. Bucky is forever emblazoned into your heart. If he leaves you, he takes it with you, leaving a shell.

Steve is your soul. He knows your inner thoughts. He knows your impulses. He knows your darkness and your light. You want him to know your love. Your most vulnerable self, unshielded, ready to surrender to his love and to love him with abandon.

You want to be spread out beneath him as he takes you as one. As part of himself. Like you already are with Bucky. Intimate and private and personal.

And Bucky! Bucky needs to see your inner workings. You want to show him your darkness and to find out if he can still love it. Love you. How can you choose? How can you leave?

But how can you stay?!

“-I l-love you, baby, please don’t push me away.” You plead.

Bucky huffs, pulls your hands away from his body and moves around you.

“BUCKY!” You cry, a torn whisper, half crazed with the thought of losing him forever.

You drop onto the sofa, fisting the plush cushion with writhing claws. Your crying is loud and ugly and you didn’t know you could die and still somehow be alive.

You scream into the sofa because you don’t know what else to do. Bucky took your strength with him. You’d chase after him but your body won’t obey. It’s broken.

It’s full of pain, confusion, but mostly guilt because this is all your fault.

He saw you and Steve. Bucky did.

He heard you. He was there. He saw Steve touch you and you touch Steve in ways that are only his.

Why are you so horrible? Why do you do this? Why can you only destroy?

You hear Steve leave too. On some plane of consciousness, you're aware of him banging on Bucky’s door. You hear the door open and then slamming and then a small muted ruckus. Then silence.

The silence is punctured only by your sobbing. Eventually that stops too and you’re very aware of the fact that it’s either very late or really early.

You shut your eyes and fall asleep. Emotionally spent.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re awoken by the gentle shake of a familiar hand. It’s not big. Not Steve. Definitely not Bucky.

“Y/N wake up. We got’im. We know where he is.” Nat takes her hand back and watches as you sleepily sit yourself up.

You teeter for a moment; caught between whatever dark dream you’d just woken up from and very real heartbreak you’re in.

“You okay?” She asks, wary either from the look on your face or the way your body seems to stutter.

“Yeah.” You croak. You clear your throat.

“Come on. We’ve got the jet going.”

You look towards the hallway towards the bedrooms. Bucky had stormed off that way and you faintly remember hearing Steve follow him.

“They’re already on the jet. You can change on the way. Come on.” She urges you, a strange gentleness in her voice that tells you she’s very aware of some part of what’s going on with you and your two boys.

No. Not yours. Rejected. And you can’t be with Steve. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

You sigh and get to your feet, slightly stung that neither of them woke you up.

The elevator ride down to the hangar is thick with words that need to be said. Not by you.

When she speaks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hands—covered in fingerless tac gloves—squeeze the metal bar along behind her.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice is pleading, guilty. Like you feel.

“For what?” You look at her, eyes bleary from sleep. You hadn’t even bothered to look at what time it is.

“I pushed him to go on that mission with you. I’ve been trying to get him to do something…about the way he feels about you, for a long time.” Nat flexes her jaw, then looks down at her feet before meeting you with an apologetic green gaze. “He told me that he kissed you. To make Bucky jealous? To help you two along? I could see how miserable he was and I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” You look away from her to stare at the metal doors. You did this to all of you. You. No one else.

“It’s okay, you know? Loving both of them.”

And you don’t know how it can be okay. Nothing is okay. For one fleeting moment, you think it might be better to be dead than without either of them.

The thought scares you and you gasp lightly.

“Y/N?” Nat moves towards you, placing her hand on your lower back. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” You growl, not meaning to but you’re so angry at yourself.

Angry for hurting Bucky. Angry for loving Steve and hurting him too. Angry because this isn’t you. You’re not a quitter. You’re a fighter. You’ll leave, just like you said you would.

Not forever. Never forever.

You just need to get some distance. You need space. You need time to think. Maybe Bucky and Steve need time, too?

Maybe being away from you will help things be clearer?

“Y/N?” Nat probes, leaning forward to look at your face because you’re still folded forward.

“I said I’m fine.” You push her hand away and as the elevator opens you move out with wobbly feet but find your stride halfway to the jet.

“About time.” Tony snarks, in full iron armor as he steps onto the jet.

He stands aside and watches you board but with his helmet off, you can see the confusion on his face from whatever expression you’re wearing.

You move for the back-left corner of the jet where a small compartment slides out for spare uniforms.

“Hey, pouty. What’s got your mood all puckered?” Sam asks, giving you a passing glance but quickly taking in your mood.

You don’t answer him.

Very aware of your surroundings, you take note of Bucky standing at the front of the jet, hand on the back of the left pilot’s chair where Sam sits. The right left open for Nat when she boards shortly after you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you as you come on board. He’s mad at you. You get it.

Steve sits on the right side of the jet, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. They’re both dressed in full mission gear but neither of them looks at you and it stings so painfully that you blink hard to chase away the tears that accompany the ache.

Fine. If that’s how they both want to play this, then you are more than happy to oblige.

You strip, not caring who may be looking. First to go are your jeans, then your white t-shirt. You still haven’t changed since your encounter with Steve by the lake.

As the back hatch closes and Tony climbs on, sans uniform which has tucked itself back into its nano-housing on his chest, he moves towards you. He leans against the wall of the jet, shielding your semi-nakedness from the rest of the team.

“Are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m alright? I’m fine!” You shout.

You don’t mean to snap but your fuse is already short enough with Bucky and Steve having left Nat to wake you and both of them not even sparing you a glance. Maybe you deserve it? Maybe you don’t?

Either way, it ticks you off, and the gnawing guilt in your chest only serves to strengthen your sour mood.

You shove your clothes into the small compartment and pull the Kevlar tac suit on. Holsters fastened and guns slipped in place. Tony continues to watch you.

“Are you getting laid?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “Helps with stress. Are you stressed?”

You frown at him and move around him, ignoring the way he smirks because you don’t want to snap at him again.

“Where are Vision and Wanda?” You wonder, asking no one in particular but hoping that Bucky or Steve will answer.

“Scouting ahead.” Nat says, no hint of your rudeness with her earlier. “They’ll meet us at the safe zone then move in with us.”

You walk over to her and as soon as you enter his periphery, Bucky turns and walks away. He moves over to the right side of the jet and sits himself as far away from Steve as possible. Ramrod straight, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

The drop your heart does takes your breath away.

All of your anger seems to disappear instantly as that painful stinging returns to the inner corners of your eyes. You shut them, urging yourself to stay professional. You can’t focus on what’s happening with you and Bucky and Steve right now.

Aaron must be the focus.

“Where are we going?” You ask Nat and your voice is a gasp.

When she turns to look at you, you can see her take note of the spot Bucky had just stood in and then frowns as she finds him sitting as far away from you and Steve as possible. When she meets your eyes, the look of solidarity and sympathy is piercing.

“Rio. Or more specifically, Cabo Frio.” She states, pulling up a map of South America. On the bottom-right corner of Brazil’s Eastern coast is a not so small city with beautiful beaches, and crystal blue-green waters.

“What’s in Cabo Frio?” You wonder, forcing yourself to focus on the display in front of her.

Since you can’t choose Steve and Bucky won’t let you choose him anymore, you choose Aaron. That’s where you’ll devote your energy. Besides, the more you think about Aaron, the less aware you are of the empty feeling in your chest.

“It’s what wasn’t in Cabo Frio six months ago?” Nat moves the map to the East and about thirty miles from shore to empty, dark blue ocean. “This was the South Atlantic six months ago.”

She presses a few buttons with sleek black polished nails and the map changes on where there was nothing there is now a small island.

“This is the South Atlantic now.”

“So, we’re flying to that island?” You wonder, reaching out to zoom the map in.

“That’s not an island.” Sam says to your left.

You keep zooming in and find yourself staring at the largest ship you have ever seen.

“Is that a ship?” You gasp, zooming in more.

“Longer than the Sears Tower is tall.” Nat says. “We’re pretty sure that’s where the drugs are coming from.”

You blink, stunned by the size, the ingenious of using a ship to manufacture drugs.

Pulling anchor and moving on is so easy. If someone gets wind of you, you just float away.

“Are we going straight to the ship?”

“No.” Nat says.

“They’ve got a base inland where we got aerial footage of your mark making drops. We’ll go there first, scope that out, take it if we can. Then we’ll take the ship. We want to cut off communication with the base on shore so that we can sneak up on the ship. We don’t want one warning the other.” Tony says, sidling up behind you.

Turning to look at him, you frown. “That’s stupid. Once they lose communication with the base, they’ll move on. Why don’t we just split up? Half of us can take the ship. The other half of us can take the base.”

“It’s too risky.” Nat shakes her head, worry painting her green eyes dark jade. “Something goes wrong, we won’t have backup.”

“Where’s Bruce?” You wonder. “Looking around.”

Steve and Bucky are standing closer, interested in the conversation now that it’s turned to the mission. You hate them a little for meeting your eyes. For tearing your heart in two and then having the audacity to look at you with nothing but business on their minds.

The feeling lasts only a second because your mind is also on business. Once the shock of having them looking at you and listening as if it matters what you say has passed, you bring your gaze to Tony.

“He’s with Wanda, scoping out the base.” He says.

“And Thor?”

“With Vision, checking out the ship.”

“Well, call them back. Is there a safe zone where we can meet up with them?” You ask, inadvertently taking charge of the mission.

“Yeah, about twenty miles outside of the city.” Nat says, flicking the map to the small warehouse to serve as a temporary base.

“Call them. Get them there.”

“I don’t know if splitting up is such a good idea.” Sam says, voicing his concern for probably all of them.

“Rhodey?” You ask Tony, ignoring Sam for now.

“Called away. He won’t be here.”

“Nat?” You lean towards her again, staring out at the darkening horizon.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your heartbreak made you sleep straight through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Your stomach aches and gurgles, but you ignore it. No one cares that you didn’t eat. You don’t care either.

“Get us to that safe zone.” You order and she happily obeys.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say to make all of this better. If he hadn’t insisted on pleasuring you outside then maybe Bucky wouldn’t have shut you out so harshly.

He knows that Bucky doesn’t mean it. The no is tentative. It had been spoken in haste and in jealousy and anger.

Steve’s already kind of changed his mind. Not really, but before Tony had called about Aaron, he’d thought he could see Bucky wavering.

Bucky loves you, and as much as he hates that you love him, Steve, he can’t fight that. Steve can’t understand Bucky’s resistance.

Of course, Steve doesn’t want to share you either. You were his firsts. Maybe not officially, but in every way other than sexual, you’d been his. You’d fallen asleep in his arms before Bucky’s. You’d stretched out on his bed and spent hours reading or watching shows or movies with him before Bucky was there to do all that with you.

He’d taken you on your first mission. He’d patched up your first wounds. He’d kissed you—yes, he had though you’d been asleep and didn’t know about it—way before he did it to coax Bucky’s jealousy.

He’d held you when you cried. He’d laughed at your jokes. He’d loved you in every way possible without telling you out loud before Bucky even came into the picture.

No. Steve doesn’t want to share you. But you love Bucky. How can he deny you what you want?

Bucky also needs you. More than Steve thinks even Bucky knows.

He needs to give in. He needs to hold onto you. If Steve needs to step aside, he will. If he has to listen to you and Bucky make love for the rest of his life, then he’ll do that. So long as you don’t leave.

Steve understands Bucky. More than he might think. Steve knows that you’re his light. He knows that Bucky can’t really live without you.

He hates to see Bucky struggle. So, he gave in. He surrendered. For you. For Bucky.

While you’d cried and then fallen into a restless sleep, Steve had promised his best friend that he wouldn’t touch you again. He’d stay away. He’d leave when you were a little better and could handle his leaving, and he’d stop interfering.

Bucky had only stared. Searching. Angry, but listening.

Steve can see the admiration in Bucky’s eyes as you take charge right now. You hadn’t been given this mission to lead but you’d taken up the reigns on your own and dove headfirst. You’re so strong. In so many ways.

As you cross towards them again, a dusty cloud of years’ worth of muck kicked up as you move over the filthy warehouse floor, Steve stands up straighter. Bucky across from him, leaning against the steel support beam trying to look as casual as he can with his hands shoved into his pockets, also stands straighter despite his attempts at playing it cool.

Like him, Steve knows that Bucky’s vowed to put all this drama aside. For the mission. For you.

“We hold out until we all reach our targets. We attack at the same time and take who we can. How sure are we that Aaron is going to be at the base and not on the ship?” Steve hasn’t spoken since he boarded the jet.

He’s trying to step back but so is Bucky. That’s not what he wanted.

“There’s no way to know. We spotted him the one time but haven’t seen him since. He could be on either site or neither.” Nat says, standing tall with her arms crossed over her full chest.

“How will we split the teams? Let’s get this going. I want to rip some heads.” Thor declares and you look at him then appraise the rest of the group.

Steve stands a little taller as your eyes scan him and then you speak. “I’ll take point on the base in the city. Tony? You think you can take the ship team?”

“Is that a serious question?” He quips.

“Good.”

“Bruce, you should go with Tony. They’ll need the extra muscle on the ship. It’s a large space.” Steve thinks that’s a good all.

Even with the Hulk tamed, Bruce can throw his weight around well.

“Nat, Wanda, will the two of you also go with Tony?” You order, and before you can speak again, Bucky cuts in.

“Me too.” He says, voice hard and quiet.

Steve can see the uncertain shift in your eyes. The pain that flashes out at Bucky as he stares you down.

For a few horrible seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Will this break you? Bucky hasn’t said a word to you. He hasn’t reached out. He’s barely looked at you.

Steve caught you struggling on the jet and now Bucky doesn’t even want to be on mission with you?

The way your mouth opens as if to speak then shuts again with a flex of your jaw, Steve knows that you’re trying hard to keep it together.

“Fine.” You say, your voice hard now too.

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He’s going to drive you away. Is that his plan? He’ll break you. Can’t he see that?

“The rest of you are with me.” You say, disappointment on the furthest fringes of your tone.

Steve knows you’d rather have Bucky with you. Yet, he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll be able to keep his eye on you. Just like old times. He’ll have your back.

Things do not go well. It’s almost as if you’ve offended God…or the Gods. Your mind shoots to Thor chaotically as everything falls apart.

There is no one on the ship.

No one.

Bruce, in controlled Hulk form, Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda search the ship as quickly as possible with the help of Tony’s thermal scans.

The base on the other hand?

It’s packed. There are more guys than the five of you can handle.

For a little bit in the beginning, when Thor barrels through a large heavy iron door to expose what must be nearly three hundred workers in the largest room of the base, you think maybe all isn’t lost.

Thor can handle these guys no problem. You’ve seen him take on more. Worse. Stronger. Faster.

Then the twins show up. White dark chocolate skin, stark platinum blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and evil sneers create a terrifying image.

You’ve never seen them before. Illuminated collars around their necks that glow venom green come undone and then they chase Thor up through the roof and into the dark night skies leaving you, Steve, and Vision to fight fast and hard.

Vision grabs thugs at random, by the neck, then flings them up into the air to watch them drop. He flies down, sweeping long crippling tackles through ten, fifteen guys at once. You and Steve do your best to hold them off.

Steve fairs better, his strength super. You’re skilled, very much so, but you can only move as fast as your body will let you.

Each of the twins is followed by a stream of sunshine yellow light that seems to originate from their hands and feet. This propels them upwards, or that’s what you’d originally guessed.

It reminds you of Wanda but not exactly. The light is too thick. Solid. Like those lasers from Tron but that’s not possible because that’s just a movie.

And yet, when Sam goes tumbling out of the sky as he attempts to help Thor fight the twins, his wings hit a line of light and impossibly, inexplicably, the wings are severed. Halfway along their length, the left wing is clipped, and Sam goes tumbling down towards the ground. Too high. Too far.

Vision breaks away from you and Steve to intercept his fall, but he’s suddenly tackled out of flight by one of the twins, streaming across the large room and into a wave of thugs.

“Sam! Your chute!” You shout, scared and desperate for him as he falls.

He grows closer and when he talks you can hear the wind whistling past him.

He’ll die.

“I’m trying. It’s jammed!” He cries, his voice strong and controlled despite the panic that must be coursing through him.

There are grunts and pulls, punches, kicks, the occasional gunshot, as the thugs continue to attack you.

You fight harder. You somehow make yourself move faster.

“Steve, catch him!” You shout, desperate for Sam.

“We’re almost there.” Tony’s voice comes over your comms. He’s within range.

The hesitancy in Steve’s choice to do as you ask is so quick that no one would have noticed it. You see it because you know him. You love him. You know what he’s thinking.

I won’t leave you alone. He thought. Then he probably played the argument over in his head and realized that you’d dive underneath Sam and kill yourself in the process if it would mean his survival.

What other choice does he have than to do as you ask?

He sprints off towards Sam, leaping through a large broken window on the second floor. You glance him as he catches Sam, crashing into the ground outside.

Sixty thugs break away, race towards them to take advantage of the fall.

“Vision get back to Y/N.” Steve orders.

Vision is busy. You can see him shooting yellow beams at thug after thug. You hear the sing of his light, the sizzle of it’s burn. You smell the char of skin accompanied by the cries of pain.

He’s all the way on the other side of the large factory-like room.

“Vision!” Steve shouts, his fear for you more prominent than he probably means it to be.

You’re too busy to respond or react to his struggle. You’re dripping with sweat. Beads of effort build along your temples and forehead and trickle down along your skin, coating it with grime as dust is kicked up by your feet and that of your opponents.

You’re huffing with exhaustion already. Your arms are tired. Your legs are weak from taking so many hits. Blocking and returning. Your legs are suddenly yanked out from beneath you.

You scream.

“Y/N!” Steve calls out.

“I’m going.” Thor assures him that he’s on his way to you. “Gah!”

He’s knocked off course by the twin he’s been fighting, unable to get to you.

You get back to your feet, blocking punches and kicks before one lands hard on your chest. It sends you flying back. You gasp for air and loud heavy thud echoes around you.

The ringing in your ears is so distracting that although you lift up your hands to fight, you blink hard and try to remember where you are.

Someone throws a punch, a no one. You block it with your left forearm, then throw a hard right hook. It’s too strong, your arm moving lazily towards its target with zero control in strength.

The movement spins you to your left and you stumble backwards until strong arms catch you.

Your heart soars.

Bucky. You think with relief then shift your head back to look at your man to find your mark.

Aaron, Hawaiian God. Mass murderer. Crime lord. Not Bucky. Not Steve.

He smirks at you, gleeful that he’s caught you. The thugs around you move away, running towards Vision and Sam and Steve.

You can hear people calling you on your earpiece, but your head won’t focus.

Why?

There’s a flash of a memory. Your head violently hitting a large steel support beam. The explosion in your brain as you’re concussed, and green eyes transfix your addled mind as you pass out.

You dream of a snake with sea-green eyes. It hisses and laughs. Ssss-sss-ssssss.

Bucky can feel Bruce’s loud cry reverberate in his chest. It shakes his heart and reminds him that it’s there. Not like he could ever really forget.

Hearing Steve’s panic over the comms trying to get any one of his team members back to where you’d been fighting fills Bucky with dread. It chokes his heart. It aches painfully with a fear unlike he’s ever known.

Where are you?

He scans the room as Bruce stampedes through, swinging and making bodies fly. He tears through them like they were made of paper and he can begin to hear shouts of fear. The large group of thugs begin to run, making for exits and windows and holes in the walls.

Tony flies off to help Thor with what looks like twin men, sickly thing with dark skin and glowing eyes. Wanda and Vision join him while Nat, Steve, Bucky, and Sam meet in the middle of the large factory room where you’d been fighting.

“Where is she?!” Steve asks, screaming desperate and fearful.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the sound of terror in Steve’s cry because it’s his cry too.

“Where is she?! Nat? Do you see her?” Steve is fighting through the crowd, Sam pushing and punching.

Nat kicking and spinning her way towards the spot where Steve is standing.

“No.” Nat replies, grunting as she catches a thug in the chest with her knee then plunges a knife into his thigh as he tries to kick.

“Sam?”

“Nothing this way, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

But Bucky can’t answer his voice is caught in his throat. It’s a lump, building rapidly into grief and denial as he tries to convince his mind that what he thinks has happened hasn’t really happened.

He angrily grabs a thug’s throat as he runs by. He squeezes, the plates in his metal arm groaning and shifting as he glares up at the low life.

“Where is she?” He says low and angry. There’s death in his tone.

The thug claws at Bucky’s hand unable to fight it. He shakes his head and Bucky can’t help it. He squeezes too hard. He hears a sickening crack and then drops the limp body to the floor.

Steve finds him and he looks over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky catches another thug.

“Where is she?” He asks again.

“Buck?” Steve asks, desperate for reassurance.

The second thug also has no answers for him. Bucky squeezes again.

As this body falls to the ground, Steve reaches out to turn Bucky towards him.

Bucky lets him. He meets his eyes, Steve standing with both hands gripping the sides of Bucky’s shoulders. He’s heaving, breathing hard and heavy from his fight to find you. He’s sweating and dirty and he fought hard while Bucky was stuck on some decoy ship doing nothing and letting you get taken.

“Buck?” Steve asks, searching his ice blues for that assurance that everything is going to be okay.

Bucky can’t give it to him, and he lets the mask fall for a second as he sees the same heartache and agony mirrored in Steve’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something that might alleviate this black cloud over them as the last of the thugs are chased out by Bruce.

Instead his lower lip quivers and Steve falls to his knees.

“No.” Steve gasps.

“He took her.” Bucky realizes. He knew it the moment that you stopped responding to their calls. He knew it when you sent Steve to catch Sam. He knew that you wouldn’t be here when he arrived, and he can’t believe he left you alone.

If he’d been here, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d been willing to just try to accept that Steve—this broken man clutching at his feet as he struggles to breathe and what must be an astounding feeling of failure—loved you just as much as he did and that he had as much right to show it as he himself did, then you’d still be here.

You’d have had both of them at your side and when Steve had gone to save Sam, Bucky would have been there to keep you safe.

“No.” Steve cries. Really cries. His voice hitches. His hands are vices around Bucky’s ankles as he clings desperately to the only piece of you left. “Buck…no.”

Bucky falls to his knees to but to straighten Steve up. He can’t have him like this.

“We’ll get her back, Steve.” He promises him.

“We don’t even know where to start looking.” Steve points out and Bucky can see the dead in his eyes.

Now he can see what you’ve been meaning, what you’ve been saying Steve is to you. For the first time since this whole mess started, Bucky can see how much more claim Steve has on you and strangely, it doesn’t hurt.

It makes him feel better that someone on this team will be more desperate than him to find you. Someone else on this team will sacrifice life and limb to get you back.

“You’re not alone, Steve.” Bucky tells him, giving him a shake. “We’ll get her back. Together.”

Someone is talking. Someone is speaking directly to you as if you’re capable of listening. Never mind the fact that you’ve been completely unconscious until this moment.

Aaron.

“-trust easily. It’s nothing personal. I just need to make sure that you can’t punch me. Are the straps too tight?” He asks, deep booming voice actually concerned.

You feel tugs at your wrists as he checks large nylon straps. They’re thick and to Steve and Bucky and almost all of your friends they would be nothing but to you, a human, with no real super strength, they’re enough.

“Where-?”

“You’re on my ship.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

It’s like his statement brings to attention the gentle swaying, the smell of brine, and the groan of metal in water.

It creeps you out how he sounds like he’s making conversation with an old friend. Someone he can joke around with and have some fun.

In his defense, the last time you’d seen him face-to-face, he’d been about to eat you out.

“There was no one on the ship.” You say, confused.

“Oh, not that ship. That was a fake. I put it there in case someone like you and your team came lookin’ for me.” Aaron explains.

You open your eyes and the dim light of a light far away lets you see him. He’s big. Bigger than you remember but that might just be because it’s been a while. Tall. Beautiful copper tanned skin. Long wavy brown hair. Longer than Bucky’s. Tips bleached from too much sun. His beard is thick, well-kept, but longer than when you last saw him. Fuller.

He’s shirtless, tendrils of soft black chest hair scattered over his hard, flexing pectorals.

He’s slouched. Completely relaxed. The flesh of his stomach folded over though even with that small bit of extra muscle and tissue, you can see the chiseled shape of his abs.

Leaning forward, he spreads his legs wide wearing dark pants that look fairly new. He places his hands between his legs. He grips the edge of the chair, curling his shoulders in as he appraises you. He’s too at ease.

Is he not scared you’ll be found? Are you seriously in trouble here?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re an Avenger? I guess I should have put it together when I woke up the next morning and I couldn’t find my drive. You cost me a lot of money on that Cayman trip.” He informs you.

You stare at him, assessing your options quickly. How can you get out of this?

“How long have I-?”

“Two weeks. You know, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me that. I guess you hit your head pretty hard. I don’t have a doctor on board but as soon as I can get you one, I will.” He promises.

Why is he being so nice.

“You’re new to them, right? Haven’t been part of them long? I’ve never seen you before.” He gets up and moves towards a small metal table bolted down into the floor and against the half black, half red metal wall.

“Yes.” You lie, never mind that you’ve been on many missions with Steve and Nat and the rest of the team. You’d just been kept out of the big ones.

Stupid protective, lovable jerks.

“I knew there was something…that night in my place?” He moves back to you holding a small glass of water.

Your body craves it, almost aches for it.

As he holds it to your lips you push yourself up as much as you can take frantic sips.

You cough, choking on it a little. He takes the glass away and you hate him for it.

“Take it easy. I’ve got plenty of water.” He places the edge back against your lips and this time you’re careful. “So, I don’t know what drug you used to get me to pass out that night but did we-?”

Seriously?! You think, this guy is actually asking you if you slept with him?

Inspiration strikes and as he pulls the now empty glass away from your lips, you nod slowly.

“We did.” You tell him.

He believes you. He puts the glass on a smaller table also bolted down to the floor beside your infirmary bed then licks his lips and leans in closer, hovering over you with is arms on either side of your chest.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, desperate to understand.

“I-I was scared they’d come looking for me. I used to do things for bad people, and they don’t trust me.” The lies come easy. Doing bad things for bad people isn’t a lie, but it’s been much longer than you’re making it seem.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighs, reaching up to smooth the hair away from your face.

It clings to your temples, clammy skin coated in sweat. This is when you realize that you’re not exactly well.

“I’m scared.” You shudder, letting your real fear for your health surface and make your words true.

“Sshh, shhh, I’ve got you, baby.” He traces the shape of your shoulders.

You don’t want to push it too soon because it’ll make him suspicious, but he’s already so primed for it. Fearfully, you throw it out there to see if he’ll take the bait. You pray that Bucky won’t be angry at you for using this tactic that he hates so much.

Then you remember that Bucky is mad at you and that he probably doesn’t care about what you do.

The urge to survive this almost slips away but you know you’re better than that. You can live in a world where Bucky hates you, so long as you know he’s out there. You push through the depression that threatens to overtake you and stick to your plan.

“Can I hold you?” You wonder, pulling against the straps on your wrists. “I want you.”

Voice soft as silk, alluring, and pleading. You shift your hips, rubbing your thighs together as if you’re actually itching to have him fill you again—never mind that he never did.

He takes note of this, his hand wandering down your side and onto your hip where his eyes stay glued as he watches you squirm.

“Please?” You beg and he likes that so much he give a guttural grunt as he looks back up at you and climbs up onto your bed.

You feel frail and breakable. His large body looming over yours sends your heart into overdrive. Will he hurt you?

He touches you, and you try not to flinch away. You make sure to shift your disgust into desire, letting him cup your mound despite the way it makes you want to throw up. That could also be the malnutrition.

“You want this baby?” He asks, wafting hot breath against the cool clammy skin of your throat.

“Yeah.” You lie, hoping that it sounds real. “Let me hold you.”

You strain against your straps and he sits back, removing his hand from between your legs.

You’re filled with relief as he undoes your left hand strap and because you don’t want him to be suspicious, you use that hand to grab his shoulder and yank him down against your chest. You wrap it around him, holding him to you as his lips find yours and you kiss him hard.

As hard as you can anyway.

The taste of his tongue is salted and sour. You nearly gag but instead you groan. You need to get him off of you, get the rest of the straps off, get out the door, and up onto the deck of the ship. Then you can look for a plane or another boat…something. Anything.

You’ll float home if you have to.

As his tongue delves more deeply into his mouth, the heat of his skin bringing shocking attention to the lack of it in you, you suddenly bite down.

Aaron gasps and tries to pull back, but you’ve got a solid hold on him. He pushes against your shoulders and you follow him up as best you can as your teeth dig in deeper.

Your teeth finally snap shut. Aaron screams in pain and you taste rust.

Aaron scrambles off of you and falls onto the floor, kicking and pushing away from your bed and you spit out the pink wiggling flesh. Your mouth is flooded with blood and it drips from your mouth as you quickly undo the straps holding you down.

When you’re finally on your feet, you wobble, but not because of the sway of the ship. You’re weaker than you realized.

“Shit.” You gasp and grab a small metal tray beside your bed.

Aaron doesn’t see the hit coming and you knock him out saving him from the pain of his half-tongue but also giving yourself time to get away.

Weakly you run out of the room giving the hallways you run through quick looks before you venture into them.

You’ve been expecting to encounter thugs but there’s no one. Only empty rooms and the rotting smell of fish.

You have to stop to rest when you find the stairs and catch your breath. Two seconds is all you spare because the fear of Aaron waking up and coming after you is overwhelming.

You scrape up your bare feet as you climb the stairs as quickly as you can. At the top you find a heavy steel doorway with one of those large circular handles to seal compartments in ships from flooding.

Weakly you manage to turn it and hot salty air fills your lungs as the door falls open. Gray overcast skies and black blue water surround the ship.

You push it, itching for freedom and as you tumble out your foot catches on the bottom threshold. You fall hard, feeling a break somewhere in your leg.

You cry out, hoping that all of Aaron’s thugs are not up here.

“Y/N!”

No. It’s impossible. Your eyes strain against the bright light of the day and try to see where that voice came from.

Halfway down the much smaller ship’s deck but still as big as an oil tanker, you see Bucky fling a black mass of body overboard.

He races towards you at the same time and you frantically push yourself up onto your feet.

Forgetting your brand-new break, you collapse when you try to put your weight on your right foot but Bucky’s already there and he catches you. His arms are hot and tight around you, the smell of him—bitter sweat mixed with his usual clean linen and sandalwood musk—is intoxicating. You can hardly believe he’s real.

“I found you.” He gasps, shocked as if he’d never expected to see you again. “I found you.”

You look for his face, wanting nothing more than to stare into his steel blue eyes. He pushes your hair back, almost like Aaron had but there’s a desperate love in his hands as he holds your face and you want him to kiss you and hold you and tell you that you’re safe.

He does one of those.

He scoops you up suddenly and impossibly fast he carries you across the ship’s deck, winding around containers and piping until he reaches the stern and you can see the large black jet.

“Steve!” Bucky calls, and you’re so confused but Steve is suddenly there too. His arms are around you, and as he falls to the ground onto his knees, Bucky moves with him and carefully places you in Steve’s arms.

Steve holds you close, against his chest, clinging to you as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He cries but you don’t want him to be sorry.

Your heart soars as he pulls your lips up to meet his and then he buries his head into the side of your neck as he continues to sob, his blonde head of hair damp from the spray of the sea.

Bucky, also kneeling beside you, leans in to rest his forehead against your temple.

“I found you.” He repeats.

You turn to look at him, searching his face for explanation but he kisses you instead. Softly massaging your lips before he trails loving kisses down along your cheeks.

Then he wraps his arms around you and Steve.

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[beckzorz]

Blood Bank (one-shot)

Pairing: Winter Soldier x f!Reader Words: 8007 Warnings: Death, blood, needles, murder, swearing, mentions of past torture... And angst, in case all the other warnings didn’t give it away. Summary: Your captors ask you your blood type. Your answer changes everything. A/N: Written for @connorshero​’s song challenge! My song was “Take Me To Church” by Hozier, I was particularly inspired by these lines: “I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife / Offer me that deathless death / Good God, let me give you my life.” Thank you so, so much to @prettyyoungtragedy​ and @jewelofwinter​ for beta reading at different points for me :3 So much appreciated! I hope you enjoy :3

There’s a rattle at the door. Low voices hissing, arguing. You know those voices. They’re the voices of the people hurting you.

You groan and force your eyes open. Who is it now? Another bout of torture? Another round of tests? More foreign substances pumped into you? The last pills they gave you made you hallucinate for three days straight. You’ve only been clean—as clean as one can get in a place like this—for a few hours.

Unless the whispers are hallucinations, too.

At least you know the cell is real. It’s small, dark, the same it’s been since you were first thrown in. It’s not too cold right now, or at least, you’re not shivering despite the fact that your only protection is a thin gray jumpsuit. You don’t even have socks, let alone shoes. But still, you’re not cold.

Is it daytime? It’s not like you can tell. The whispering has ceased, but you can hear the key sliding into the lock with its customary grind.

The guard who barges inside is breathing heavily, his eyes wide and face pale. You cower into your flimsy mattress, but the guard—Vasilyev? Vasilev?—doesn’t grab you just yet.

“Your blood type!” he barks. It’s not a question. You answer anyway. He sighs, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank fuck.”

He storms out, slamming the door behind him, but it doesn’t catch.

You sit up slowly.

The door is open?

Is this freedom?

You leap to your feet, head spinning, heart pounding. Before you can take even a single step towards freedom, Vasilyev bursts back in. You throw your hands over your head with a whimper, waiting for the inevitable blows, but all Vasilyev does is grab your wrists and drag you out into the hall. You stumble at his brisk pace, limbs aching in protest. His grip is too tight, and after three days in your tiny cell your legs are sore.

He yanks you along. The concrete is rough against your bare feet, more so when you stumble again, feet dragging on the ground.

“Keep up.” Vasilyev’s voice is rough, but there’s an edge of panic to it that leaves a long string of question marks in your hazy mind.

What’s going on?

You haven’t been imprisoned long. It all happened less than two weeks ago, the man in black and the blood and the blindfold…

In that time, they’ve taken you around their little complex, but it’s all been with a lazy interest that’s sent shivers down your spine every time. Nothing they’ve done to you is important, not really. Whatever they’re testing aren’t things they need. Experiments, not necessity. They’ve barely scratched the surface in the torture department, at least in your opinion. No pulling fingernails, no American handcuffs, no brands in your skin.

But the panic in Vasilyev’s voice is different. It’s new. You’ve never heard him so unnerved before, not like that. The only other time was when you got your hands on an empty syringe, and were about to jab it into your skin—

You’d gotten a beating for that, before they injected you with hallucinogens. Even now, there are bruises on your thighs. But they hadn’t hurt you enough to break anything. Or even break you. Not really.

The second turn clues you in to where Vasilyev is taking you. The infirmary is the only place at this end of the building, at least that you’ve been to. You assume the dark room across the hall is a morgue.

Maybe they’re bringing you there.

But no, Vasilyev thrusts you through the swinging infirmary doors shoulder first. The same nurse, doctor, whatever, from your syringe escapade jumps up from his seat and rushes towards you.

“Here she is. Where do you want her?” Vasilyev’s grip is bruising, but for all that you can still feel his trembling.

“What’s going on?” you blurt.

“Strap her down, over there,” the nurse says, ignoring your question entirely as he points towards two gurneys sitting side by side. “It should work.”

Vasilyev drags you to the closest gurney and pushes you down. You bounce on the thin mattress; the bruises on the back of your thighs are so tender you cry out.

“The other one, you idiot,” the nurse says. “What, you want me to stab his left arm?”

“Shut up, fuckface.” Vasilyev drags you around to the other gurney and slams you down so hard you see stars.

By the time your vision clears, your hands and one foot are strapped into cuffs hooked to the railings. You kick at Vasilyev with your one free leg, but he grabs it easily, strapping it down just like the others.

“Now keep still, or else.”

Vasilyev jabs his fist into your stomach. You wheeze, doubling up as far as your bindings will let you. Your eyes burn, and even after the initial pain fades to a dull throb, you can’t keep the tears at bay. The nurse is busy at his station at the other end of the room, the tinkle of instruments and the sloshing of liquids all sending fresh shudders up your spine as you collapse flat on your back.

Your mind reels. What is happening? What could possibly be so urgent? Why are they stabbing someone’s arm—is someone else being brought in? What are you doing here? It had all started with Vasilyev asking for your blood type.

Blood, needles, arms, liquid—rubbing alcohol?

The nurse hurries over, his steps light and quick and the little cart squeaking against the floor until he wheels it to a stop at your left side, between the gurneys. You lift your head, heart racing, but all you see is a syringe hooked to a tube.

Arms. Needles. Blood.

“Come here, Vasilyev, hold her down.”

Vasilyev grumbles, but he obeys. He leans across you, holding your left arm down in a bruising grip at the wrist and shoulder. You hiss, try to shift, but you’re weak and he’s too strong. He smirks down at you, but there’s still worry lurking in his eyes.

You swallow, almost ready to ask, but then the nurse swipes the inside of your elbow with rubbing alcohol. You tense.

Blood.

“Please,” you beg. “Please just tell me what’s going on!”

“Relax your arm,” the nurse says. He wiggles the syringe by your face. “Otherwise this will hurt.”

You try to relax. You really do. But the needle is thicker than you’re used to, and Vasilyev’s weight digging into your arm is already giving you pins and needles, and you’re more scared than when the walls started crumbling around you during your hallucinations, and—

A scream rips from your throat as the nurse slides the needle in. It burns; it’s like a whole knife shoved up your arm.

“Oh, please,” the nurse scoffs. “Calm down, won’t you? You’re giving me a headache.”

Vasilyev snorts.

Your scream dissolves into sobs; every one exacerbates the ache in your stomach, but you’re powerless to stop. The nurse tapes down the needle, pats your shoulder, and starts to hum off-key. Vasilyev lets go of you at last. They leave you.

You lie there, shudders racking your body as you slowly come back to yourself. Every movement of your arm shifts the needle, shooting fresh pains up and down your arm. You hold as still as you can.

Arms. Needles. Blood.

A commotion starts in the corridor, silencing the nurse’s humming. Echoing shouts, bangs… Vasilyev and the nurse jump to their feet; Vasilyev rushes out into the hall. The nurse inches towards you, pale. You twist your head to look at the door, brows pinched and neck twinging.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Time to do our part,” the nurse says with false cheer. “We mustn’t make our little outpost look bad now.”

The door bursts open; the nurse skids back. Two guards, led by a stony-faced Vasilyev, are supporting a third man dressed in black whose feet drag along the floor, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you breathe.

The man in black’s head is lolling on his neck, his chin tucked against his chest. His clothes are shiny with blood. Behind his curtain of matted dark hair, a long scrape along his cheek is dotted with blood too.

The guards are breathing heavily. The man in black is barely breathing at all.

“Stand up,” Vasilyev barks, but there’s a hint of fear behind his order.

The two guards step gingerly away from their—prisoner? He has to be a prisoner, the way Vasilyev is barking and the way the blood is just leaking out of him. The man groans as he rights himself, barely able to lift his head.

Vasilyev slaps him.

You flinch. The man doesn’t react at all, except that his head falls to the side, giving you the first clear view of his face. He hasn’t spotted you yet, but he’s white as a sheet behind the blood.

“Get on the gurney,” Vasilyev orders. He shoves the man, who stumbles and barely catches himself.

At a look from Vasilyev, the two other guards help lift the man in black onto the gurney. He’s tall, broad; he takes up more room on the gurney than you were expecting from his pathetic entrance. He’s oddly quiet now; has he fallen unconscious? No—he shifts under their prodding hands, hair falling around his face to reveal a chiseled profile and barely parted lips. Vasilyev pushes one of the guards aside and starts to strap the man in. He works fast, too fast; his fingers slip on the second cuff and he swears.

The nurse, puttering around, sniffs with disdain.

“He’s lost too much blood to be a threat, Vasilyev,” he murmurs. “Just look at him.”

“You spend too much time at this godforsaken outpost. Trust me,” Vasilyev says, strapping the man’s chest down with a grunt, “he’s always a threat.”

Always a threat? You stare at the man beside you as Vasilyev adds yet another strap, this one across the man’s black-clad thighs. Who is he?

All he does is moan.

Now that the man is strapped down, the nurse steps between the gurneys. He’s holding another syringe, but he hesitates.

“Should we remove the sleeve, perhaps?”

“Don’t waste our time,” Vasilyev snaps. “Get to it!”

“I can’t get to it if I can’t find a vein.”

Vasilyev positively growls. He yanks a knife free from his belt and none too gently slices up the thick sleeve, baring the man’s arm to the elbow and nicking a fresh cut on his upper arm. A drop of blood wells up against ghostly pale skin. “Happy?”

“Mm, it’ll do.”

The nurse doesn’t bother to clean the other man’s elbow before he presses the needle in. That, at last, is enough to prompt you to speak.

“What about the alcohol?”

The nurse sighs. He rolls his head along his shoulders until he’s giving you the most bored look you’ve ever seen. “Do I tell you how to do your job?”

You tug against the cuff on your right hand, the one that won’t move the needle. Vasilyev takes a step towards you, a warning. You go still, but the nurse is still watching you expectantly. You glance at Vasilyev, but he rolls his eyes and gestures for you to answer.

“Yes,” you tell the nurse. “You told me to calm down.”

“Ha. So I did.” He slaps his knee. “Good advice, if I say so myself.”

“I don’t know,” you say shakily. You turn your head further to your left and flinch.

The man beside you is staring at you with blank blue eyes. His rapid, shallow breathing fans the few hairs caught on his lips. Tears sting your eyes. What have they done to him?

“Did they kill your family too?” you whisper.

Not softly enough.

Vasilyev and both other guards storm your gurney. You pull your limbs as far in as you can, but there’s no curling into a ball now.

“Lighten up, boys,” the nurse says loudly. The three guards come up short, Vasilyev’s hand inches from your throat and the others shoulder-to-shoulder at your feet. “She won’t last, he’ll be wiped, what’s it matter? Let them talk.”

The guards back away as the nurse turns back to you, fitting a clear plastic tube to the syringe lodged in your left elbow.

You won’t last?

The man beside you is frowning now. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. A tear leaks out of your eyes. Poor soul; he looks half a corpse. Is he going to be fed whatever they’re about to put in you?

What do they mean, wiped?

Suction in your veins draws your eyes down to the needle in your arm.

“Whaa?!”

The nurse moves away, and suddenly you can see. They aren’t putting anything in you.

They’re draining you dry.

“No no no no no no no!”

Blood is being sucked out of you through the needle into the tube; you shake your head, terror clamping down your throat, as you follow the path of the snaking blood through the tube hanging in the empty air between the two gurneys.

The man beside you hisses as his right arm sucks up your blood. His eyes squeeze shut; the veins on his neck stand out in sharp definition over his collar even with the streaks of blood painting his skin. You look down, pulse racing, and rattle your left arm, but the syringe is taped down too tight, and every bend of your elbow sets it further in.

Scant feet away, the man’s rapid breathing eases. You whip your head back to look at him, shudders racking your whole body.

“Who are you?” you whimper.

He meets your eyes again, but his expression is as blank as before.

Enough. If he can’t answer with words, what’s the point in talking to him? You tug at three of your bindings, keeping your left arm still, but there’s not enough give to do anything more than sit halfway up. You glance back at the man, but he’s not looking at your face anymore. His gaze has landed on the plastic tube dangling between the gurneys. Just as you had moments before, he follows the trail from your arm to his.

He frowns. Looks back to you. You’re still shaking. Will you ever stop shaking?

You close your eyes and take deep breaths until they’re almost smooth. Then you look back at the man, bypassing his confused face to study the rest of him. There’s the ruined sleeve, baring a pale, muscular forearm. Blood dotting his uniform…

Uniform?

You suck in a breath, eyes wide as you finally grasp the whole picture. He’s armed. Armed to the teeth, or he would have been, if all the holsters criss-crossing his body had been full. Most are empty, but you know what’s missing. Pistols. Knives. Instruments of death…

As it is, the wide holster against his thigh is still sporting a knife. Your eyes snap back to his. His gaze wanders almost lazily down to his leg; he runs his fingers along the hilt of the knife at his side as he looks back to you.

Why have they left him armed?

“Who are you?” you rasp.

Confusion clouds his face. He licks his lips, blue eyes struggling to focus. When they finally do, his expression clears. “They took you.”

What?

You open your mouth, but the question lodges itself in your throat. The knife… The guns, the black uniform, the fact that he’s armed—that he knows they took you—

“Oh god!”

You try and scoot away, but the bindings on your arms and legs only let you go so far.

“You—you killed them! My family, they’re dead!”

He just stares. There’s no remorse in his eyes, no denial.

“Oh god…”

Your eyes burn, your stomach quakes. You jerk harder with your arms and legs, rattling the gurney and doubling up as much as you can against the wave of nausea. The gurney skids inches across the floor, the harsh squeal of locked wheels against cold tile echoing through the infirmary. The needle taped into your elbow shifts; you cry out, but you don’t stop. How can you stop? You’re literally being forced to give life to the man who killed your family.

“Hey!”

Vasilyev bears down on you, brandishing a scalpel.

At that, you freeze.

“Keep still or I’ll pin you down!” he growls. He jabs the scalpel next to your head, yanking hard until the fabric tears, the sound unnaturally loud so close to your ear.

“I’ll have to clean that now,” the nurse says drily. “Isn’t the whole point to not waste her blood?”

Vasilyev snorts. He pulls the scalpel free and pushes you even closer to the other gurney than before. The man—the murderer is within reach, even with the cuffs. You bite your tongue to contain your whimper, but the man beside you makes no move in your direction.

All he does is look.

You can’t hold his gaze. Your eyes fix on the tube connecting you. There’s a break in the bloodstream from your struggle. It oozes along, slow as molasses, until it’s sucked into him.

You close your eyes.

Are they dragging this out on purpose? Is this ever going to end? You crack open an eye, but the nurse is lounging on a wheeling stool, the picture of inaction. The guards are huddled in easy reach, but too far for you to make out their hushed conversation. The room is cold now, colder than before. Goosebumps break out along your arms.

Meanwhile, the man beside you is regaining color. His breathing is steady; yours is a mess. Your stomach is more curdled than sour milk. Bile rises in your throat as you stare at your family’s killer.

“Why did you do it?” You swallow hard. “What did they do?”

“They were in the way of freedom.”

“What?!” you gasp. “They were fighting for freedom!”

You know what your parents were up to. They’d always left you out of it, but you knew. You’d known all along. Your hands were always clean, but you’d never been ignorant. Of their methods, perhaps, but you knew what the pamphlets were for, even if you never had a chance to read them before they were whisked out of sight.

No, you were never involved. But here you are, strapped to a table, giving life back to the man who took everything from you.

“What about me, then?” you ask, voice and hands shaking. “What did I do?

“You?” His eyes dart around, but they don’t land on anything. After a heavy moment, he shakes his head. His brow darkens. “You know what you did.”

“Do I?” The laugh that comes out of you isn’t recognizable. It’s painted with horror. “The worst things I’ve done—they don’t merit this.” You shake your left arm at him. The plastic tube wavers in the air.

“What did you do?” he asks, voice low. His gaze flits to the doctors, but they’re ignoring you still. “Tell me.”

Your stomach churns. You’ve never told anyone… But this is it, isn’t it? This is your last chance.

“I stole from my parents. I burned a flag. I tried to kill someone, once.”

His face contorts with shock at that. “You?”

You can’t blame him for his incredulity. What a picture you paint now, with sweat beading on your brow and your hands shaking, rattling the cuffs against the metal railings. But you’d been alive once, really alive, with as much vigor and feeling as anyone.

“Who?” he asks.

You swallow. The guards and the nurse are watching impassively.  One of the guards leans over and whispers something in the nurse’s ear; both of them snigger. Hot anger surges in your breast, and you fix the man beside you with a harsh stare even as you shiver.

“Someone who tried to hurt me.”

The man frowns. “Is that all?”

“Wha-what else do you want?” You laugh weakly, but it quickly turns into a cough. Every hack jolts your aching head and sets your stomach roiling.

The man’s blue eyes slide around the room. His fingers glide along the knife at his thigh. You whimper.

“Enough,” the man says, loud enough for the guards and nurse to hear.

“We’ll see about that,” the nurse says, hurrying over. He pushes the gurneys farther apart and stops the flow of blood, leaving the needles in. He turns to examine the man behind you. The nurse hums as he looks the man over, seeming satisfied with what he finds. “Alright, he’s stable.”

The nurse takes the needle from the man’s arm, taping down a gauze pad to stop the bleeding. He does the same for you. The second the hole in your elbow is taped up, you curl your sore arm as much as you can. You hiss. God, it hurts. And every bone feels like a hundred pounds. Your arm collapses back to your side, bouncing on the mattress.

“Well, soldier, what’s the damage?” the nurse asks.

Soldier? Is that what he is? He isn’t dressed like the others, who wear uniforms with red berets like normal soldiers. The man beside you is dressed like a shadow, or a ghost.

Like a murderer.

Vasilyev looms over you, his eyes sharp and mouth pressed in a thin line. You roll your head aside, away from him. Your skull is throbbing hard now. Vasilyev’s hands are hot on your skin as he undoes the cuff on your right arm. If you had the strength, you’d try to hit him. As it is, you’re as helpless as a rag doll, your gaze fixed on the man lying beside you. He’s watching you, something like sorrow in his blue eyes as the nurse prods at his ribs.

“No more,” you whimper. You don’t know whom you’re pleading to. “Please.”

Vasilyev ignores you as usual. The other cuffs are gone in seconds. He forces you to sit up, but the second he lets go of you, you topple back with a wheezy grunt. Your head pounds from the impact.

“For fuck’s sake,” Vasilyev groans.

The nurse tsks. He swivels on his stool to look you over. His acrid green gloves are stained with blood. “What did you think was going to happen, Vasilyev?”

“No more,” you repeat.

The nurse pats your cheek. “There, there.”

Blood clings to your face. You glance to your left again, eyes wide and wet. The soldier’s lips, pink now, part as he takes you in. Your blood is in him, and his blood is painting your skin.

“Make it stop,” you beg. “Please, soldier.”

His mouth sets in a line. His blue eyes harden.

“Just use the gurney,” the nurse tells Vasilyev, and then he turns back to the man at your left.

The soldier drives his knife into the nurse’s gut. The nurse freezes, gurgles. The soldier yanks the knife across the nurse’s belly; blood spurts out of the wound, splattering the soldier’s black uniform with a fresh coat of red.

You gape. Your weak pulse pounds in your ears.

The soldier sits up, the bindings across his arms and chest tearing as though they were butter. The nurse topples to the ground. Vasilyev is shouting, pulling out his gun; the other two guards rush over, but the soldier twists to his left, toppling his gurney. Vasilyev’s first bullet pings against the metal frame; the second tears through the mattress, but the soldier’s already rolled away. Four more bullets whizz through the air, inches from you, but none hit their mark.

Your heart skips a beat. Is this freedom? Bullets, blood, bile in your throat—is this freedom?

Vasilyev drops to his knees at your side as the soldier carves his way through the other two guards. The air moving past you sparks a fresh burst of goosebumps. Vasilyev props his gun on your knee, taking aim.

“Don’t move,” he warns.

You freeze. Your heart sinks. Not freedom, then.

Every shot sends shudders recoiling along your leg, and you clench the gurney’s handles in an attempt to keep still. There’s an empty ferocity on the soldier’s face, one that doesn’t dissipate when his eyes pass over you.

Fresh blood is spattered on his cheeks.

Are you next?

Vasilyev swears. He reloads his gun, but before he can take aim, a bullet whizzes through the air over your legs and hits him square in the forehead. Vasilyev topples backwards, gun soaring through the air.

Only then does the soldier turn back to you. He’s not even panting. The work of barely a minute—four men dead, himself freed from bondage—hasn’t winded him at all.

Vasilyev’s gun clatters against the floor.

“No more,” the soldier says.

Your words, in a quiet, thoughtful baritone. Your words, in his mouth?

Is that better or worse than your blood in his veins?

You don’t know. All you know is that lying helpless and freezing on a gurney, your family’s killer standing over you, half your life sapped away to fuel his—none of it feels like freedom.

The soldier tucks the stolen gun into one of his holsters. His blue eyes rove across your prone body, from your face to your bare arms to your bare feet. You curl your arms across your chest. Your left elbow is sore, but the scratchy gray jumpsuit is far too little protection. Under his intense gaze, you feel exposed.

His inspection complete, the soldier kneels over the bodies of the dead men littering the floor. You don’t have the energy to lift your head to look, but you can hear rustling, and the jingle of a keychain. Is he going through their clothes?

A thump at your feet makes you flinch. You finally prop yourself up on your right elbow and stare at the pair of military boots at your feet. Two footwraps come next.

Oh.

The soldier is stripping the bodies.

Why? You can’t imagine. Everything is foggy.

You can hear the dull sounds of the soldier moving the bodies around. Is that an arm hitting the floor? A leg? You close your eyes and lie back down. Closing your eyes does nothing to shut out the sounds of the dead.

Your body feels so heavy.

“Here.”

You open your eyes. The soldier is standing over you again, holding out one of the dead guard’s jackets. You can clearly see where the knife had gone in, come out. There’s a dark patch of blood around the tear in the fabric.

The soldier shakes the coat at you. You push yourself up, breathing heavily from the effort. He grips your shoulder in his left hand to help right you, and you stare in shock.

His left hand—is metal?

“Here,” he repeats impatiently.

You tear your eyes away from his hand, mind reeling as you look back at the coat. It’s for you? Are the shoes for you, too?

“Why?” you ask.

“It needed to stop.” His face is passive, save for a tic in his jaw. “Wasn’t—” He cuts himself off, but he’s said enough.

Tears well in your eyes. Somehow, even though he thinks your parents had deserved death, you don’t.

What would your parents think of their killer saving you?

You sniff, and nod. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Whatever comes next, you’re too helpless to go on alone. And you know perfectly well there are more people here than the four lying dead on the ground.

He drapes the coat over your shoulders; you stick one arm through, then the other. It takes an eternity, and by the time you’re done the soldier has torn the ripped sleeve off his uniform, baring his sculpted pale arm, and you’re exhausted again. The extra weight of the jacket is no comfort against the chill. Your chill is from inside, not out. You clench your knees tightly, locking your elbows to keep yourself upright.

“They drained me dry,” you whisper; it’s as loud as you can manage.

The soldier doesn’t answer. He grabs the footwraps and boots from the end of the gurney and kneels at your feet. You stare down at his blood-matted hair as he wraps your feet—in another life, you might have laughed at the sensation of someone else’s hands there. Right now, all you can do is watch. Your arms shake a little; the left one is still too sore to keep perfectly still.

The boots slide on easy—whichever guard they’d belonged to had bigger feet than yours, apparently. The soldier stands.

“You can’t walk?” he says. It’s barely a question, but you shake your head anyway. The brief movement makes your head spin. He steps back, looks you over. He does a button up on the jacket, near your collarbone.

Then he slides his left arm under your knees, the other around your back, and hoists you into his arms.

It’s a painful jostle. Your arm aches in protest, and your limited energy means you can’t even shift to find a more comfortable position against the myriad straps over his chest. And while your upper body is protected by the army jacket, the thin jumpsuit pants are no barrier at all against all the blood yet to dry on his uniform.

The soldier strides out of the infirmary, pushing the swinging doors open with a well-aimed kick and ducking through.

Voices ahead.

He pauses.

“You need to hold on,” he says, voice flat.

You wriggle your arms around his neck. Your skin is too clammy to get a good grip, and you end up gripping your covered elbows instead of your wrists. If you’re choking him, he makes no comment. All he does is pull the stolen gun out.

A gun in his hand, grim determination in his eyes, blood splattered across his face—is this how he’d looked when he’d killed your family? You hadn’t seen the face behind the mask, but now…

You shudder and bury your face in the crook of your shoulder. Whatever comes next, you don’t want to see. If you’re about to die—

Well. You’ll die without giving anyone else the satisfaction of seeing you frightened.

What comes next is a blur of movement and gunshots. Something pings off the soldier; is that his metal hand, deflecting bullets?

How much of his flesh has been replaced?

You just hang on around his neck and let him swing you around as he dodges and moves through the corridors, bending here and there to grab a fresh gun. Time moves slow as molasses, but in the back of your mind you have the strange sensation that things are moving all too fast. You adjust your grip, and for the first time your face brushes his skin.

It’s scorching. You suck in a harsh breath in shock; you’re still so cold. Are you so cold? Has he got a fever? Or did he just take all your warmth?

You don’t lift your head until you feel fresh air on your face. It’s dusk—or dawn? You’re not sure. But the light is gentle, and the air is cool, clean. Fresh. There’s a few cars parked near the door, but beyond that is a forest. Birds chirp, bugs chitter, leaves rustle—

Tears stream down your face. It’s beautiful.

Freedom never felt so sweet.

The soldier pulls out a keychain and heads for a black van. He opens the passenger side first and sets you down. It takes a moment to unwind your stiff arms from around his neck. Your left elbow aches, but at least you’re free to move it. If you can muster the energy.

The soldier pulls the buckle across your chest. He’s quick but careful, polite—not groping, or harsh, or leery.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

The soldier pauses as he finishes strapping you in. His haunting blue eyes fix on yours from inches away. Your breath catches.

Despite everything, despite the blood on his face, despite what he’s done to you, what he did to the four dead men in the infirmary just minutes ago and however many others in the corridors, you’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.

Maybe it’s just that you’re free now. Everything is beautiful in this half-light, even a murderer.

In this half-light, the murderer might almost be a man.

You grip the seatbelt and swallow. His eyes dart across your face. Your heart thumps in your chest.

In this half-light, the man might almost be your hero.

A harsh caw shatters the quiet. The soldier pulls back and slams the door. In the space of seconds, he’s in the driver’s seat beside you, keys in the ignition and engine rumbling to a start. He doesn’t look at you as he drives into the woods, but you can’t take your eyes from him. You’re on his right again, just like before. His dark hair hides the scrape on his cheek. Your eyes train along his bare arm. It’s so still you might mistake it for a sculpture, but then he turns the wheel and the illusion breaks.

He’s real. He’s very real.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

His hands tighten on the wheel. The plastic creaks in protest. He lets out a low breath.

“Dunno,” he says.

You open your mouth to ask, to protest, but then think better of it. What use is it, to ask a man about things he doesn’t know?

How much of him had they taken away? His hand, his identity, his freedom…

His freedom?

You bite your lip. Is he as trapped as you had been?

“Are you… free?” you ask.

He frowns. “Dunno.”

Your parents had kept you out of their politics. You don’t understand their caution now. Surely they’d realized you’d be at risk no matter what. Risk or no risk, your politics aside, you know what freedom is supposed to be.

“If you don’t know, then you aren’t.”

He doesn’t answer. All he does is set his jaw, his shoulders.

You look away from him at last, gut clenching. How can he have done so much yet know so little?

How much of him had they taken away?

You lean against the window, the glass cool against your clammy skin. The trees whizz by; the road is gravel and dirt. It’s jostling. You’d been too caught up to notice before.

Strange. Fifteen minutes ago, you’d been desperate to get away from him.

Not anymore.

You turn to gaze at him again. For the first time since he’d gotten in the car, he glances your way. There’s nothing of the monster left in him. He’s just a man now. Yes, he’s done terrible things, but all for reasons. Not his own, it would seem, but there’s a logic to it nonetheless.

If he really was a monster, you’d never have gotten through to him. He would have let them kill you. He might even have killed you himself. As it is, he’s taking you… where? Even if he’s saved your life, he’s still a stranger, still a ghost.

“Where are you going?”

“Hospital,” he says.

“What for?”

“You need a doctor.”

That’s certainly true. You twine your cold fingers together and sigh.

“What about you? What do you need?”

“I need to finish my mission.”

Your blood—what little is left—runs colder than ever.

A mission?

Is that what your family had been? A mission?

You shift closer to the door and squeeze your stinging eyes shut. “You don’t need to finish it.”

“I have a mission,” he snaps, brow drawn low and mouth set in a hard line. “That’s what I know. I’m going to see it through.”

“They’ll kill you!” Your eyes pop back open. You grab his shoulder; he stiffens, but otherwise doesn't react. “What you did—you killed all those people—”

“They weren’t doing a good job anyway,” he says drily. His expression softens. He doesn’t shrug your hand away. “They’ll understand.”

“Will they?” you challenge.

“Yes.” His tone brooks no argument.

Even so, you don’t believe him. What had Vasilyev said? Always a threat? Is a threat worth forgiving? Worth understanding?

He’s a threat to you, though, whatever his current quixotic impulse and whatever your strange, sudden fascination. How fast had he turned on the nurse, the guards? Your words had pushed him to save you then. Would the wrong words now push him to kill you instead?

You don’t know.

You let your hand fall from his shoulder. You don’t dare touch his bare skin, much though you long for the warmth. You’re still too cold. You press your trembling hand to your chest; the phantom feeling of him lingers.

How long has it been since you touched someone of your own volition? Fifteen, sixteen days? Two weeks, give or take. Is two weeks a lifetime? It might as well be.

Your head tips forward.

“Hey,” he says. He reaches out and adjusts your head until you’re leaning against the window. His hand is warm on your face. “You okay?”

“No, soldier,” you answer. You close your eyes and huddle into the jacket. The only warmth you have left is what lingers from his hand. “I’m not.”

—

Long before you open your eyes, the road evens out. The car is zooming now. A highway, maybe?

Even behind your eyelids, you can tell it’s getting darker. You sigh, and let true darkness claim you.

—

A hand shakes you awake.

You cry out, flailing at the unexpected touch, but someone gathers your hands in their own, gentler than you’d expected.

“Hey, hey, calm down.”

Your eyes focus at last—the soldier is still sitting beside you in the driver seat, the dried blood flaking on his face but his expression unthreatening. It’s safe. He’s safe.

You’re safe.

The car is stopped on the side of a main road god knows where, but there’s little traffic. You’re between streetlights, the car cast in shadow and the blue of his eyes barely visible. There’s no one else on the street, save for the shrinking headlights of a car already passed by. For all intents and purposes, it’s still just the two of you. You relax your hands into his hold. Your fingers tremble, but it’s outside your control. He seems to understand. He folds your hands together, then lets them go.

You clasp your hands to your chest. God help you, but you wish he hadn’t let go.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

You look around more closely. “Wh—where are we?”

“By a hospital.”

Your heart drops. None of the buildings look like hospitals…

“Where—”

“Around the corner.” He’s unbothered, looking at you almost blankly, left arm propped on the steering wheel so he can face you. “Can you walk?”

You test your limbs. Your left arm is still sore, but the fitful rest had conserved a little strength.

“Maybe.”

He frowns, glances at the street as another car zooms past. There’s no one else on the road, but he clenches his fist. He’s not calm anymore. Tension is building—in the set of his shoulders, his jaw.

“You have to walk.”

“What if I can’t?” you counter. Your heart is racing, pumping too-little blood through your veins. It sounds hollow in your ears.

“You don’t have a choice.”

The soldier reaches across you and opens your door.

“Get out.”

You gape at him. You clench the seatbelt still securing you in and shake your head.

“I—no!”

He yanks your hands away from the seatbelt and unbuckles it. “You don’t have a choice.”

“You can’t make me!” Your voice rises dangerously. Tears well in your eyes; panic swells in your chest. For the first time, you grab hold of his arm. His skin is hot, smooth. His muscles clench under your desperate touch.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps. He shakes his arm, but you don’t let go. His metal fingers tighten on the wheel. The plastic creaks; he swears under his breath and lets go, leaving an imprint of his hand behind. He glares at you, angry and confused. “You gotta go!”

“Not without you!”

The words burst out of you without thought, and the sudden admission leaves you staggered. The soldier’s eyes widen; he’s more shocked than you are. The anger melts from his face, less so his confusion. There’s something strange in his eyes now—an echo, maybe? You don’t know. You don’t know. All you can do is stare into those blue eyes, heart racing.

Why did you even say that? How could you? This man—he’s not your friend. He killed your family! He killed all those men at the base without a second thought. You haven’t seen an ounce of regret for any of the murders.

Not that you regret the deaths of the men who tortured you, and all the others there who took part in whatever wicked work they were pursuing. Knowing they can’t come after you—it’s a relief.

But the soldier, the man beside you, he’s part of that wicked work too. He killed your family! He killed them, not even knowing them, not even knowing himself…

You shut your eyes and press your forehead against his shoulder. Tears roll down your cheeks. The soldier stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away.

The work of a few hours has transformed him in your eyes. Monster and murderer to your only hope. To your savior. The murders haven’t gone away, but there’s more to him now—more, less, you don’t know; how much doesn’t he know? His own name, taken from him…

Like your family was taken from you.

By him.

It’s a sick circle. But he’s the only link back to them, and to the weeks you spent imprisoned for no good reason at all. He’s the one who believed you, who freed you—all that death, just for you.

To save you.

And now he wants you to walk away, so he can go back to murdering innocents. Even now, with your body half-drained, your mind is sharp enough to know the wrongness in letting him go.

How can you let your savior become a monster again? How can you let the man whose life you saved with your own blood go back to whatever hell he came from? Even if he doesn’t know the wrong in what he’s done…

You do.

You take a deep, shaky breath. The metallic scent of blood and his own smell flood your senses. The reminder of his realness is an instant comfort. You run your hand down his arm until you can bring his hand to your cheek.

Forget the morals. Forget the monster. Beneath it all, you’re terrified of being left alone.

You press a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Please don’t abandon me, soldier.”

You lift your head from his shoulder, still holding tight to his hand. As tight as you can, at least.

The soldier lets out a breath that hisses between his teeth. He studies you, eyes flitting over your face, from your shining eyes to your quivering chin.

“Alright.”

You stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding. There’s a resignation in his face, but he’s serious. He—he’s serious. You let out a little cry and litter kisses on his hand, on the back of it, over his fingers curled around yours.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The barest hint of a smile ghosts across his lips. He takes the keys out of the ignition, carefully untangles his fingers from yours, and gets out of the car. You’re practically bouncing in your seat.

He saved you, and now you can save him. Together, you can find freedom.

You take a deep breath to compose yourself before he comes around the front of the car. He offers a hand to help you out.

“Can you walk?” There’s a dry humor to his question, and you smile.

“If you help.”

The soldier tucks an arm under yours as you step down from the van to the sidewalk. With his support, you feel light as a feather.

He locks up the van and starts to walk.

“You can’t give them your name,” he says, voice low and fast. “Pick a fake one, or don’t give one at all. And don’t tell them where you’ve been. Just tell them you were lost in the woods.”

“That hardly explains all the lost blood,” you retort.

He pauses, looks down at you. His eyebrow goes up. “Right… well, then forget everything. Don’t hint at it.”

“Okay.” You laugh breathlessly. “Like you.”

He flinches.

“Maybe we can get new names together,” you continue, gentler.

The soldier doesn’t respond.

He leads you around the corner. There’s the hospital, the sign dim but bright light spilling out onto the walkway halfway up the block from the doors into the emergency room.

That light is freedom.

You grasp the soldier’s hand, your throat tight. A lifetime ago, you had always hated hospitals. But now, that stark light is heaven.

You quicken your steps, surprised at your sudden burst of energy but not questioning it for the world. The soldier keeps up without trouble, and soon enough you’re on the walkway to the hospital.

“Remember,” the soldier murmurs, breath warm on your ear, “forget everything.”

You nod, jaw set. “I remember.”

“Good.”

The automatic doors slide open. You pause and turn to say one last private thank you.

Your thanks die in your throat.

The soldier’s face is in stark relief in the bright light. He looks dead. He looks terrible. Like the wrath of god.

“Soldier…?”

He lets go of you—you stiffen in surprise—and shoves you through the open doors.

You cry out, sprawling to the floor inside the emergency room. Your teeth rattle in your skull with the impact. You catch a glimpse of a few people jumping to their feet from stiff chairs, a woman rushing around a desk, sterile walls.

But you ignore it all. You surge to your knees, twisting to stare outside.

“Sold—”

The path is empty.

He’s gone.

“No!”

You collapse back to the ground, sobs tearing from your hollow chest. The woman from the desk runs to your side, calling for a nurse. You barely hear it. You’re dizzy, head swimming. All the warmth that had settled from his arm around you vanishes.

“No,” you whisper.

He’s left you. You’re alone—abandoned.

Why?

You spread your hands flat on the floor. The cool tiles feel miles away. All you can feel is the emptiness of the soldier’s absence. He stole your blood, and now he’s stolen that unnameable piece of you that had settled with him.

Gentle hands cradle you, sitting you up.

“Miss? Miss?”

You blink through your tears. The room is spinning around you. Nothing is clear, except what you’ve lost.

Forget everything.

Your heart squeezes painfully. No, soldier, I can’t.

A nurse's face clears in your vision. She’s got a hand on your face, checking for a fever.

“Miss, what happened?”

The soldier’s face is branded in your memory, but his final direction rattles through you. However impossible forgetting will be, you know you can’t tell anyone here what’s happened to you.

“Please help me,” you gasp. “They did things to me—I’m just so cold, and scared, and I don’t know—I don’t know—”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she reassures you. You hiccough, swipe away your tears with shaking hands.

“I don’t know,” you say again.

But you do.

Within the hour, you’re being fed back more blood to make up for what was taken from you. The nurse and doctor seems to believe your fragmented tale, even with so little detail. Trauma, they say, can make a person forget. And it’s not like people hadn’t disappeared and reappeared before, shaking and traumatized and mind—memories half-gone.

But you remember. You remember blue eyes, a thick needle in your arm, blood on your skin. Death, a metal hand, burning skin against your face. A monster, a man.

You remember.

You always will.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think :3