#she always ends up on top of him tho and he will always unconsciously wrap his arms around her

[beans-and-shet]

A cute little scene that takes place shortly after they’re married. Some things never change.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

; good enough

© @pedropcl

lee bodecker x fem!reader.

summary. your father invited you to his birthday party and things ended badly.

words. about 2.3k.

warnings, tags. nsfw, +18!!! drunk state, language, unprotected sex, daddy!kink, very brief degradation, mention of bodily fluids, very brief mention of violence. and i think that's all.

a / n. first time writing for this man that has me obsessed, so i hope y'all like it! none of my writings contains reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. if you find something out of place, please send me a message and i'll change it.

You didn't want to be there, but it was your father's birthday and you couldn't miss it. More than thirty minutes had passed since the last time you saw your husband standing in a corner of the large living room, sipping from his glass of whisky and judging every guest around in silence. Lee hated your parents, your family, their friends. And you didn't blame him. Your family never accepted him, always repeating that he wasn't good enough for you, nor your interests. Except for your mom. She wasn't the only one who didn't treat him like dirt.

Once that you escaped from your father's arms, showing you as a trophy and trying to set you up on a date with one of his best friend's sons, you stepped out of the house to the back garden. It was cold outside, having to close your jacket around your chest as you closed both arms over it. Following the footprints on the grass, you reached the improvised parking where different cars were stationed. The smoke coming from nowhere called your attention, glimpsing Lee sitting on the hood of his black Ford. Cigarette in his left hand and bottle of whisky in his right.

You doubted for a second to interrupt his moment of peace for the first time in two weeks. Two long weeks where you barely had spent time together. He started holding over his shifts because, apparently, there was too much paperwork to attend. You couldn't help but think that he was raving mad about you, or about something you did unconsciously. But the real problem was that your husband never used to talk about his feelings or what was going in his mind.

“I think you've drunk enough”. You uttered watching him raise the bottle to his lips.

Lee chuckled ironically, shaking his head. “Lucky me I don' care”.

Frowning and with your mouth pressed closed, you walked towards his position to face him. He had never talked to you like that, but he was being honest, shrugging his shoulders to point it out a little more.

“I do. I do care”.

“Don' worry, darlin'. I ain't gonna shame you in front of your family”. He scoffed bitterly, finally sipping from his drink. “Watya' doin' here anyway? Party's indoors”.

“You're here tho”.

“And who fuckin' cares, uh? You were having so much fun inside with that… pretty boy who works in Wall Street”. Your husband mocked taking a drag from his cigarette. “We should divorce, don' you think? So you coulda go with him to the big city, and don' be stuck in… How d'your father call it? Knockemshit. Stuck with a… fat sheriff of a shitty town”.

Lee didn't notice the tears blurring your gaze till he raised his face. The bitter smile curving his lips suddenly disappeared, putting his pale blue eyes away from you because it was too painful for him to watch you cry. Your husband gulped hardly, kissing his teeth as he threw the cigar somewhere on the ground. You couldn't believe he really wanted to divorce you, wrapping your heart with a suffocating sorrow that barely let you breathe. He was your life and, after three years together, he seemed to not give a shit about it sometimes.

“I ain' like them”. You whispered sniffing.

“Tha' doesn' change the fact that you don' deserve a man like me. Your father is right. 'M a fucking loser compared to anyone inside his damn house”.

You loved Lee with all your heart, soul, mind, body. He was everything you want in your existence —your life. So damn obsessed with his touch, his kisses, his smell of wind and leather, his smile, that beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. You refused to believe he was talking seriously.

“You should be there. I— Imma go home, tell your mo—”.

Before your husband could finish his goodbye, you interrupted him by slapping his face. He didn't see that coming and you'd never imagine yourself hitting him. But you needed it, seeming the only way to stop him from abandoning you there. He kept his face away from you, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His drunkenness suddenly disappeared, pressing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue whilst rubbing his hand over the reddened skin. You were so mad right now that you could set on fire the whole world.

And you were about to do it a second time when Lee caught your wrist in the air, painfully gripping his fingers around it to push you closer —chest against chest. Then, he raised his index finger. “Don' you fuckin' dare to try it again, y'hear me?”

You were furiously breathing, but not filling your lungs with air in reality, keeping your eyes on the blue ones that used to steal your heart every single day. It was like a contest of dominance you knew he always won. Any time.

Your husband didn't give you the chance to say sorry, slamming his lips on yours. A moan died in his tongue when it invaded your cavity while releasing your arm to fly his rough big hands to your ass, almost grabbing it all with his long fingers. Your digits went to the lapels of his leather jacket, not lasting too much there till finishing on the back of his head.

Lee was hungry for you, just like you were for him after two long weeks barely touching each other. Your husband devoured, sucked, and bit your lips, urging you to turn around enough to push you on top of the hood of his car. His hands pulled up the skirt of your dress, wanting to reach the waistband of your panties, receiving the great surprise that you weren't wearing any.

“You little dirty girl… Don' wantin' your Sheriff to lose time, uh?” He grunted with such an animal and eager tone, as he took care of the belt and the zip of his pants.

“I need you”. You sobbed against his lips, feeling his hands maneuvering between your legs.

At least, you were fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand when Lee rammed his rock dick into your soaked cunt, drowning in your palm a loud cry of pure satisfaction for being filled by your husband. Back and forth, he hit your body once and once, impaling you against the Ford still being furious by the way your father and friends treated him as if it was your fault. Lee was mad, really mad, digging his fingers in your hips to pin you on place and don't move, continuing fucking you harder and harder —challenging you to not be able to be quiet and make everybody heard how good he used to made you feel.

“Goddammit… you're so damn ti— tight, baby doll… So tight fo— for your daddy, ain' ya?”

“Yes… Yes, daddy”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

His strong scent filling your lungs caused you to roll your eyes white, letting your soul leave your body while his cock attacked fiercely your pussy with no mercy. Your vocals were in sync with the screeching noise the car produced in every thrust straight to your guts. The pace was insane, intense than never before, and more pleasurable than you could imagine in your life.

Lee was aware how much you loved him, that you felt devotion for him. But sometimes —sometimes like those— he couldn't help but think he could lose you as soon as you realized who he was in reality. You didn't care. You weren't blind. You knew about his dirty laundry, his past, his sister (...). And you still wanted him with all your heart and body.

“Fu— Fuck, gonna put a… baby inside you”. He growled, wrapping his right around your throat to urge you to face him. “Y'want it, uh? D'you want dad— daddy to put a baby in that… beautiful belly?”

“Yes… please, Lee”. You whined with teary eyes, being too much pleasure for your body to handle. “Please, daddy… I wa— want you to… get me pre— pregnant with your child”.

Your husband's lips curved up in a petty smirk, pulling out from your dripping cunt, causing you to sob in disappointment. Lee managed to put you down on your shaky feet to turn you and force you to bend over the hood of his car. Ass upped, legs spread. He only took a second to stare at your glistening and abused folds in your arousal, prior to impaling you again. With a hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your head, your husband obligated you to arch your back as he continued banging your anatomy once and again.

At this point, you had forgotten your name, where you are, and if someone could hear how you cried pleased any time he crashed against your g-spot. It was a mix of pleasure and pain as Lee wasn't having any kind of compassion with your cunt, clenching unconsciously around his hard length. He knew then how close you were to cumming for him —because of him—, increasing the pace while you tried to find a place to put your hands on and find some balance to stay in place. As soon as the hand tangled in your hair landed back to your throat, you gripped five fingers around his wrist, enjoying the brief lack of air because of it.

“C'mon, my swe— sweet whore… Y'wanna cum for daddy, don't ya?”

His raspy and wrecked voice fell into your ear like an angelic melody, not being able to hold your moans anymore within your mouth. The knot inside your lower belly was bigger and bigger and suffocating, feeling how it could explode at any time. Lee shoved his cock non-stopping producing a sloppy obscene sound when his pelvis crashed against your ass, along the chink of his belt against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy… Daddy…” You called him while the tears started to fall again through your cheeks, this time, of absolute satisfaction.

You couldn't help but bite your lip strongly till the metallic taste of blood covered your tongue, letting yourself go as the knot bursted within your belly. The orgasm threw you above the edge with your husband's palm covering your mouth to not be heard or it would be really awkward to be caught by all the guests, even if he didn't care. He wouldn't mind showing that pretty boy from New York that nobody could fuck his little dirty girl better than himself. Oh, how funny it would be to see his face while your husband was ramming his cock into your abused pussy, cumming inside your tight walls, digging his teeth in your neck to mark his territory.

Lee came with a sensual and passionate hoarse gasp causing you goosebumps bristling your skin, burying himself balls deep to hold it inside the mix of your juices filling up your center. It felt like being in Heaven, although you weren't sure if you could walk after such an intense quickly, feeling your walls burning as his dick still twitching and stretching your cunt.

Your husband wasn't a man of kisses after sex, that's why he surprised you when tilted your face to his and pressed his lips on yours, panting, not caring about the lack of breath. It wasn't a lustful kiss either, more than a tender and fondly one, tasting your mouth, playing with your tongue.

Pulling out his semi-erection, Lee helped you to clean yourself with a tissue before using it to clean your arousal on him and toss it to the ground. As he put on his pants, you fixed your dress and your hair, turning around.

“You meant it?” You dared to ask, still having sorrow covering your voice. “Gettin' divorced… You mean it?”

“What?” He inquired, squinting confusedly until he realized what you were talking about. He chuckled holding your chin with two fingers. “You married me, darlin'. There's no other way you're gonna spend your life but with me. Willingly or not, you hear me?”

Lee raised both eyebrows very sure of his word before you nodded your head with a fleeting smile crossing your lips.

“Can we go home now…?”

“'S that what you want?”

You nodded your head a second time, while your husband placed his arms around you with hidden possessiveness to guide you back to your childhood's house. And of course, your father was enraged when you told him that you were leaving with your husband. He yelled at you and nobody tried to stop him till the moment he had the brilliant idea of pretending to lay a hand on you.

Lee punched him. Lee broke his nose. Lee made your father fall to the floor between the pretty boy's arms. And Lee never felt better in his whole damn life.

“Don't you ever come back to this house, if you leave now with this… bastard”.

“She doesn' need you”. Your husband cooed wrapping your neck with an arm, leaning slightly to borrow your purse. “Ma'am, my pleasure a see ya' again. The beef was delicious. G'night”.

You were yet processing what just happened, ashamed of the desire for your husband himself awakened inside you after watching him hitting your father. Lee could be a total asshole sometimes but one thing was undeniable: he loved you with all his heart and soul, he was obsessed with you since the very first time his oceanic eyes contemplated you walking down the street, smelling a bucket of roses you bought for yourself.

Never again you knew anything about your family. Not even when your son, called after your husband, was born. But you weren't sad. As Lee said, you didn't need them. You had your own family to take care of.

feedback is appreciated. if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment so i can know your opinion. reblogs are needed.

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[sloppykyuu]

Issei and his gf r sex addicts but actually it's just Issei cos whenever they fuck Issei always says u can give me one more right love and keeps fucking in her while shes shaking and babbling and even tho she already came like seven times and hes still going at it asking u can take more right and keeps going but his gf is already so stimulated that her orgasm doesn't stop and keeps cumming cos he keeps hitting her spot and her body tries to push him out but hes so big nothing happens (◍•ᴗ•)

“Come on,” he coos in your ear. His hand is placed under your jaw keeping your head from falling back into the mattress. “Just one more, I know you can do it.”

All you can respond with is mindless babbles and whimpers. Your vision is hazy, eyelids heavy and near closing as each of his rough thrusts drive you to the brink of unconsciousness. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “So close aren’t y’a? Cmon baby, cum for me one more time.” His long fingers slide down your front from your hip, rough pads pressing down on your clit before moving in rough circles.

His other hand, still attached to your jaw, pulls your head back further so the top of your head rests against his chest. He coos down at your fucked out face, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The arch in your back causes him to hit deeper into you; the tip of his cock slamming right into your sensitive spot.

You choke on a moan as your body convulses, releasing in a clear spray around Issei. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep your shaking body from falling. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Such a good girl.” He growls lowly in your ear. A large hand comes down on your ass eliciting a loud squeal from you. His hips don’t cease, still slamming, just as hard as when he started, into you.

Your body continues to shake, orgasm never ending as he hits your g-spot with pin point accuracy. He watches your heavy eyes close, mouth fall open and body slump in his hold. Chuckling he presses another kiss to your head before fucking into you harder, hoping it’ll wake you up.

[souichioneshots]

Untitled Binzo x Reader Fic

SO uhhhh.... Binzo thinks about the reasons why he hates Y/N so much? IDK you guys are kinda like frenemies ???

This is the stupidest thing ive ever written...

Might make an NSFW continuation of this if anyone shows any interest tho lollll

Enjoy?????

Binzo could remember the day you two first met like it was yesterday.

He had been awoken by the sound of his father and uncle arguing in a nearby room. Although he could barely make out what they were saying, he could tell by the way he was screaming, his father had done something unbelievably stupid again.

As the door to his room slid open, Binzo quickly moved to ‘greet’ the sudden visitor, his chains holding him back just before he was able to reach the door. A smile spread across Binzo's face as he saw his father react in a panicked motion, jumping back to avoid his son's vicious attacks. However, Binzo's laughter was put to a stop when he saw a small figure move behind the older man.

Moving a bit to the side, Souichi revealed a girl, a little under Binzo’s age, who had been hiding behind him the entire time. She gripped onto the back of the false-gentleman’s suit jacket, obviously hesitant to enter the room.

Binzo's eyes widened in surprise as his father insisted, almost pushing her into the room forcefully. His eyes looked the girl up and down, trying to figure out why his father had brought her here, let alone why he decided it would be a good idea to bring her into the same room as him.

Her clothes were almost as tattered as his own. She had no shoes on her feet, but the socks that she wore were stained black with dirt and mud. From what he could see with the little lighting in his room, the exposed skin of her arms and legs were covered in scratches and bite marks. Her cold eyes stared at the pale boy as she walked in cautiously, immediately following the older man to the other side of the room. Binzo could remember how she ran her fingers through his father's greased-up hair as he placed the chains around her ankles. They exchanged a look that his mind could not understand at the time.

Getting up from the dirty floor, Souichi stated that the girl’s name was Y/N. A name so foreign to Binzo that he was sure it was made up.

As soon as his father finally left, Binzo tried to attack you. But, that was when he found out the truth. You were a monster just like him. An abomination that someone must have tried to get rid of, only for his own idiotic father to pick up and bring home like a kitten off the street. You bared your fangs at him as you backed away into the corner, trying to avoid his sudden yet expected attack. Binzo watched as you stayed low on the floor, staring at him with angered eyes.

He should have been happy to finally meet someone like him, but he wasn’t.

Binzo hated you.

You were an idiot. You could barely keep a hold on your victims, and on nights when you couldn’t secure a meal like him, you resorted to trying to catch and eat the bugs that crawled around the room. You were also idiotic enough to try to steal from him. Whenever he would get ahold of someone, you would try to get close and steal a small piece for yourself. Sometimes Binzo would be too busy to realize, but when he did, he would reach out as far as he could and use his long-sharp nails to scratch you away, leaving you to become a crying-hungry mess.

You also had a habit of not responding whenever he spoke to you. However, this was completely his fault. After you finally became comfortable enough to talk to him, he started to tease you, claiming that your voice was annoying and, using a piece of broken glass, threatening to cut out your pretty pink tongue to eat as a snack. From that day on, you didn’t utter a single word to him.

However, as time went by, Binzo started to find your presence to be slightly humorous. Specifically, whenever you tried to feed.

Binzo would always laugh whenever you dug your fangs too deep into someone’s neck and ended up getting completely doused in their blood when you pulled away. He thought it was a waste of a good drink, but worth it to see you freak out as you tried to stop the fast-paced bleeding.

Your hair also grew at an unnaturally fast rate as well. It was disgusting, but fun to pull on whenever he wanted to get your attention. It was also especially fun to watch your victims pull on your hair, stunning you for a moment, and getting a couple slaps and punches in as they tried to get away. But, Binzo wouldn’t allow that, stopping them at the last minute and dragging them back in your direction. However, you would always be too embarrassed and cry, refusing the meal he was kind enough to go after for you.

You were ungrateful. Idiotic. An amateur. Everything he hated bundled up into a small ball that dwelled in the corner of his room.

But on top of all that, the thing he hated the most was how you weren’t here now.

“Where’s Y/N!! Where is she!!” Binzo exclaimed to his physically and mentally exhausted aunt. She just stayed quiet, ignoring the child’s vicious words and actions. If she knew, she would have told him by now, but she didn’t.

Binzo looked around his dark messy room as he tried to think of what might have happened to you. It had been 2 nights since he last saw you.

If you had been moved to another room, he would be able to smell it. But you weren’t. You weren’t anywhere in the house in fact.

Could his father have decided that it was too much for him to support 2 cannibalistic children, and off’d you in the woods while he was sleeping? No way. He was the one who brought you here in the first place, he should have known what he was getting himself into.

Maybe you ran away, not wanting to be held captive and enslaved to work at a lunatic’s haunted house. That would explain why his father was also not around either. Maybe he had gone out in search of his most popular attraction.

No matter the reason, you weren’t here now, and Binzo hated you for that.

As the raven-haired boy finally started to calm down, he laid down in his cage, his eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep their focus on the door of his room anymore.

However, he was suddenly awoken by a loud scream.

It was his aunt. She had left the room, leaving him alone while he was asleep. Her voice was loud, but not angry. It sounded almost cheerful. An emotion he hadn’t heard from her in the longest time.

Binzo jumped to his feet as the door to his room slid open. There stood his father, alone from what he could see, cigar burning away in his mouth as he smiled. Binzo tightly gripped the bars of his cage, a feeling of rage boiled inside him like nothing he had ever felt before.

However, that emotion quickly washed away when he saw a familiar face appear from behind his father.

There you stood. Alive and in one piece.

Just like the first time you two had met, Souichi forced you into the room. Binzo’s eyes looked you up and down as you cautiously walked in. Gripping the hem of the older man's suit jacket, you stared back at the pale boy.

Your hair had been cut, shorter than before. You were also wearing a kimono similar to his aunt. You looked almost like a doll. It was weird how he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Binzo watched as his father put the chains around your ankles again, your hand running through his greasy hair. You two exchanged that look he couldn’t understand again.

Binzo barely listened as his father warned him not to fuck up your clothes. As Souichi finally left the room, Binzo put his hands on the lock of his cage and, using his nails, undid it.

Crawling out of the cage, he stood onto his feet and he looked at you. Although he was still only in his early teens, he was starting to grow extremely tall, a gene he inherited from his mother no doubt.

Binzo felt his heart start to race as you looked up at him, your eyes sparkled as they reflected the small amount of light that leaked in the room. It was almost like you were giving him the same look you and his father would often exchange.

Without a word, he forcefully shoved you to the ground. “Stop looking at me!” He exclaimed.

You probably thought he was jealous that his father actually let you go out, got you nice clothes, and even treated you like you were an actual human being. But that was far from the truth. He didn't really mean to push you so hard, but his emotions had gotten the better of him.

Binzo yelled out in pain as you kicked him for pushing you so hard. Just before you could kick him again, he moved to straddle you.

Putting his weight onto your stomach, he held your wrists on both sides of your head. You growled as he brought his face close to your neck and took a deep breath. It had been so long since he smelled your scent. However, this time it was different.

“You smell delicious.” He said in a hungry voice, drool dripping from his lips as he showed you his fanged teeth. You squirmed under him, knowing that he didn’t mean that as a compliment. “I thought my dad killed you. But now I see that he just dolled you up so I can do it myself. Kishishishi!” Twisting your head to the side, you dug your fangs into his arm.

“OW! You bitch!” Binzo screamed as he pulled his arm away from you. His long fingernails left a scratch across your face as he slapped you hard.  

Baring your fangs once more, you pushed him off of you and rushed to get away. However, your chains didn't let you get far.

Binzo grabbed your legs just before you could go any further. His nails dug into the thick fabric that made up your kimono, tearing it a bit as he pulled you closer to him. Flipping you onto your back, he put himself on top of you.

You squirmed in a panic as the boy wrapped his arms and legs around you, restraining you from getting away. Not having eaten anything in a while, you soon became unable to continue fighting with the monstrous boy.

Binzo’s heartbeat slowed down as you started to relax, his body unconsciously trying to mimic the pace at which you breathed. You whined as he tightened his grip on you a bit more, making sure that you wouldn’t try to slip away from him again.

Pressing his head into your hair, he breathed in the new scents that covered your body. The smell of the brand new kimono you wore mixed with the fruity shampoo you had used made him doubt that you were really the same creature he had shared a room with 2 nights ago.

“Where did you go…?” He asked, his words slightly muffled by your hair.

Your body tensed as he dug his nails deeper into the fabric of your clothes, trying to force a reply out of you, but ultimately receiving nothing back.

He hated that you wouldn’t talk to him…

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I’ll Tell You My Sins (So You Can Sharpen Your Knife)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst! A lot! (ends in fluff tho), canon typical violence, briefly mentioned and very vaguely descried torture, blackmailing.

Word Count: eight fucking thousand words what the fuck

Summary: Reader hides important information about her past from both Steve and Bucky, causing serious damage to their relationships with her. When Bucky’s severely (likely fatally) hurt, the Reader tries to finally do what’s right.

Beta: @walkingaline​ and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without her. She’s the sweetest fuckin person.

A/N: I’ve dedicated my life to this for two weeks, and it’s positively the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I’m rather proud of how it turned out, and the feelings I got to explore. Would really love to know what you think!

It’s- vines, climbing up her organs, endless, crawling, and overflowing, thorns stuck inside her skin, digging in, and the breaths come shorter, clipped, chest weighted. There’s no alleviating this pressure, this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, chaotic, heavy and filthy, slimy and awful.

The rumble of her engine, a loud interruption to her vicious thoughts, digging their claws inside her eyes, filling them with tears. The world is blurry, but the vibration- it's a welcome distraction. Familiar and strong, her motorcycle drives her at this point, muscle memory leading to the Compound, tears flying off her face by the whipping wind.

She’s booking it. Time barely registers. It’s somewhere between lashing thoughts and trembling fingers that the off-white building rises between the trees, overwhelming and tall, glinting lights always on, no matter the time of night. Somewhere between gasping, fast breaths and stuttering heartbeats that she throws the bike to park and runs, fast passes every lock with her ID and forgoes the elevator, knowing full well that the adrenaline thrumming in her veins will carry her up the stairs faster.

Shoes as if weighed by rocks, she feels slow, stuck in mud almost, liquid cement, sinking, drowning in quicksand as she rounds the corner and- Steve’s there, arms crossed over his chest, busted bottom lip pursed with his top one, a deep sigh swelling his chest. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, he looks battered and bruised, and she’s known him for years- she can read his face clear as day. And as situations like this always have him, she knows, in the clench of his jaw, the statue-still set of his eyebrows, in his stony posture; he’s as worried as he is determined.

The phone call had been rushed.

She shouldn’t have heard it, about to jump in her shower, had she not forgotten her towel on her bed. Naked, feet padding on her plush rug, she digs in her bedside table for her usually silent device. It’s Steve, and she hasn’t heard from him in nearly a month and a half. Instantly she knows something isn’t right.

There’s only so many seconds it takes for the words to sink in, words like “mission went wrong”, and “hurt”, and “won’t make it”, and “Bucky”. Soon she’s pulling on clothes at lightning speed like the universe depends on it, shower be damned. Keys, jacket, helmet forgone, tears stream down her face as if she’s already lost him, bike kick-started because what else is there to do but be there.

And now? She’s here. And she feels foreign and bizarre, stepping in a space that she barely belongs in anymore. It’s sorta how she imagines entering an old house that’s now inhabited by new residents feels like- it feels the same, but in the same way it feels all too different, strange and foreign; revisiting an old life that’s been made into a new one for someone else.

It really doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s not here for herself- not for Fury, not Steve, not for the Avengers, or the missions. She’s here- she’s here for him.

Steps even slower now, approaching the Captain himself, very much aware of her knotted shoulders, her shaking hands. It’s evident, suddenly, in his posture that he knows she’s there. His shoulders stiffen just this bit more, and with a breath with which his chin raises a notch, he turns to see her. One foot behind the other, and he moves out the way, letting her in his spot in front of the window of the room Bucky is in-

A gasp.

Time finally stops.

Unrecognizable. Buried under wounds and bruises, endless tubes- her lost boy, James, Bucky. Tears fall at a new speed, and she allows this moment of vulnerability in front of Steve, allows herself to cover her mouth, her expression crumples, her tears flow freely, and- despite being mad at her, despite having patches to mend (if they can even be mended anymore), Steve is there, solid as always, with a hand on her shoulder, urging her in his arms. Old friendships die slowly, she thinks bitterly, and sinks in the comfort, eyes unable to be torn from the sight before her.

It takes some time, a good chunk of it, to compose herself, to part from Steve’s warmth and wipe the wetness off her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her front and shakes.

“We got ambushed,” he murmurs, and the statement is heavy. There’s guilt, sorrow, she’s sure it’s not fun to recall. “My fault. Didn’t know they were that many, must’ve had false info. Barely got to get him out of there.” She shudders. The image is loud and clear in her mind; Steve limping with the leg he’s currently not leaning on, busted and bleeding, carrying an unconscious Bucky, blood dripping from his mouth. She flinches.

“Can I-“ hesitation. A deep breath, shoulders squaring, remembering she no longer asks, she states. “I want to go in.” Steve stares for a second, calculating, thinking, looks back at Bucky, limp on the bed. He nods.

“Go.”

Before she knows it, the door shuts behind her slowly, an industrial, metal click, signifying a sealed door, nearly impenetrable if it was locked. She tries to be calm, but there’s no way, no reason to look composed either, so she flings herself to Bucky’s side, fingers twitching, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case he frails like a burnt paper, in case he turns to dust and disappears before her very eyes.

Tears, once again, fall freely on her cheeks, tracing paths already carved by the previous breakdown, and the prospect of never seeing his wonderful crystal eyes, blue and loving, tears her apart. Worse so, the idea that the last time she saw them, they were red, hateful, betrayed, staring at her as if she was a monster, nothing more than the true scum of the earth, and he was right, and she will likely never be able to make everything right again.

It feels like  claws are tearing at her chest like it’s low quality linen, destroying every tiny piece of her into infinitesimal other pieces and then tearing those too. There she is, now, nothing but rubble and ash, on the floor, limp and bleeding. Heart far too heavy for her chest, breaking again and again, her temples feel like they’re about to burst from the pressure.

Sitting on the chair next to his hospital bed, her fingers tremble, carefully sliding under Bucky’s still ones, holding his hand between hers gently, like a lifeline, leaning her forehead on it. She sits there, folded, crumpled, and she cries.

~

Y/n’s palms are red and kind of stingy, but she pulls her sleeves over them and keeps holding the scalding cup of coffee between her hands anyways. Eyes closed, she lets the steam warm her nose, lets the scent comfort her, and she imagines, with her headphones plugged in her ears, that she is elsewhere, in her apartment with Bucky, on the fire escape, watching the sun descend beneath the skyline of New York City. She imagines his arms around her waist, sitting between his legs with her own dangling off the metal landing and over the street. His voice, vibrating through his chest, onto her back, murmuring teasingly in her ear, nose buried in her hair and his warmth all around her. It’s peaceful, it’s soft and warm and everything she has ever wanted.

When her eyes open, she’s met with sky blue ones, not the ones she was just dreaming of, and she flinches, suddenly very happy her coffee cup has a lid over it.

Steve.

With a sigh, she takes a calming breath, and pulls her headphones out of her ears, tugged by the wire pinched between her fingers. She places them gently on the table in the cafeteria for guests and low-level agents in the compound. It’s nighttime, and the lights in the cafe make Steve’s hair look golden and glimmering.

“How’re you holding up?” She’s not sure how much he means that, and she knows he’s still very much mad at her for everything that’s happened between them. She knows, however, he’s also the one that called her to let her know about Bucky. She feels heavy.

“I can’t stop fuckin’ crying, if that’s what you’re asking,” she tells him, no care to maintain a strong persona, not in front of the person she used to consider her best friend until not so long ago. She flicks the edge of the lid of her beverage with the tip of her nail and looks up at him. Steve looks better than she does for sure. Not because he cares less, or because he’s slept at all, but because the serum gives him more stamina than her. He’s not as tired as she is, despite the hours he’s been awake for. Still, despite his enhanced powers, there’s purple bags under his eyes. “You?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a small shake of his head, sighing deeply. She takes that as her answer. Despite wanting to fiddle with something, a way to prevent her hands from shaking, a nervous habit, she pushes her coffee cup towards him, a peace offering, something to hopefully bring him the comfort it brings her. Steve doesn’t touch it. She fiddles with her sleeves instead.

The cafeteria, despite being open twenty-four seven, is quiet. A blanket of silence falls over them and Y/n crosses one leg under the other just to have something to do, something instead of opening her mouth and ruining the temporary civility between them. The words bubble, climb over one another like beasts, up her throat, and threaten to spill- and there’s just so much of them. So many apologies to make, so many explanations to offer, so many please let’s just go back to how we were ’s, so many this is killing me ’s, so many I can’t bear the thought of losing him without at least saying I’m sorry one last time. I don’t want that to happen with you too ’s. It’s all clogging the back of her throat like a spoonful of thick syrup that just won’t go down.

The idea that this might happen with Steve one day too overwhelms her. Two of the people she had found family in now hate her. She can’t let this happen with him, can’t lose him without telling him all of it. The realization; it’s the drop that makes the glass overflow. What if- what if tomorrow, or a month from now it’s Steve on that bed, Steve dying, what if she doesn’t get to tell him all of it? Never gets to apologize? How will she ever forgive herself for the things she didn’t say?

Her eyes well again. Her tongue feels like lead. It’s time.

“I…” She can’t bear to look at him. “Steve, I’m…” a shiver runs violently through her spine. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Bucky, Y/n.” It’s like a kick in the stomach. She hears what he’s saying. I can’t forgive you for both of us. It almost sounds like your apology is useless.

“Well it’s not just Bucky I need to apologize to.” She looks up at him, and she wills the tears to be held at bay, matching his intensity with her gaze. She clenches her fists, fingernails digging in her skin just to distract part of her brain, to feel less numb. “Do you want to hear the truth?” Steve watches her. His irises bounce between hers, they do a once over of her stance, and she knows how small she looks in her seat, in contrast to him, who, despite his frame of mind, always makes a room smaller just by being in it.

His expression is grim, as he nods seriously. She takes a deep breath.

“This is the truth.”

~~

The older she grows, Y/n keeps thinking that she’s experienced everything there is to. But it truly feels to her like she’s never experienced this kind of cold before. And it’s not- it’s not just external temperature. It’s icicles, lodged under her skin, brutally freezing, causing her to endlessly shudder, tremble like a leaf out in the winter, causing her jaw to lock, her limbs to knot up.

She walks and walks, a woman with a purpose, head held high, as high as a prisoner can hold it and- something really isn’t right with this morning. Something isn’t right, and she can tell because this morning she- she felt something she hasn’t felt in years, something she thought she’d never again feel, a bubble of emotion she truly believed they had snuffed out in her. But it becomes an itch, an itch she can’t seem to scratch, something she can’t exactly put words to, can’t name.

The more she walks, the more the feeling of dread climbs up her throat. This she’s familiar with; fear. Cold and fear, clouding her senses, paralyzing her, as Müller’s door raises in front of her, and she struggles to remind herself to keep walking, keep breathing, one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, calm down. There’s no way to escape this anyways.

Director Müller was as tall as his voice was shrill and loud. His features were sharp, glass-cutting cheekbones and dimples that showed far too often. His hair was strawberry blonde and his eyes sunken, as if he was seventy years old with one foot in his grave. His skin looked taught over his bones. Always sharply dressed and always hiding about a dozen knives and pistols somewhere in his office. He liked Japanese jazz, had an affinity for yelling, and drank his whiskey straight. The only affection he’d ever had was reserved for his two small birds, Friedrich and Brigitta, whose singing he adored and who roamed in his office freely.

When he’d first kidnapped her and her older brother, Y/n sat doe eyed and watched as they beat her only sibling, her last relative left alive, to a pulp right in front of her. They didn’t know she had things to offer then. They did it for fun, a show of their capabilities, power play. They did it to break her into submission. When they found out, though, about her knowledge of science, her love for technology… That’s when her life truly ended.

She walks, now, down the freezing corridors, and knocks on Müller’s door three times. Status report straight to me every four days, he’d muttered in sharp German way back when he’d first assigned her missions, back in the beginning, and true to his word, every four days, Y/n was forced to see the skin around his bony face tighten and stretch with another chilling smile.

“Come in,” he yells, and his awful voice bounces in the empty, concrete walls of the corridor. She hears his birds. The door creaks open loudly, metal as it is, and she quickly closes it behind her so that Friedrich and Brigitta won’t escape, something she’s learned to do over the years, after one particular incident no one likes to remember, never mind speak of. He calls her last name with lewd, slimy confidence, supposedly happy to see her, his rotten dimples making an appearance. She sits on one of his chairs, upon his prompting “How’s your assignment progressing?”

“Nicely, sir. I’ve reprogrammed the Chair and fixed previous faults.”

“See, Y/n…” He sits on the plush leather chair behind his desk, hands wringing together and as he says her name, he sits up, elbows on the arm rests. His long lashes and abyssal brown eyes examine her. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Uh…” Stance maintained, but lips pursed and hands just slightly trembling, she keeps his gaze. She can’t displease him. There’s no room for her failure. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. There’s… surely ways to improve, b-but the chair- it works well.”

“Ah, but that is not what I hear.” Müller stands up dramatically, rounds his desk with slow steps, and Friedrich starts chirping consistently, sensing the sudden tension in the room, loud, high pitch hurting her ears. She dares not flinch. The cold returns fiercely, heart climbing up to her throat, choking her. This won’t end well. “As a matter of fact,” he leans, rests on his desk, right in front of her, loving his height difference and accentuating it by standing while she sits, a reminder to both of them that he’s superior. Y/n wants to melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen again. “I hear that Smith, your test subject… he has almost already recovered.”

Referring, of course, to the poor boy whom they snatched and have provided her as a sick guinea pig, a way for her to test the torture chair they have forced her to make. It’s a requirement, of course, that she tests it on him herself.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” In the flash of a blink, he’s pulled a knife from his belt and he’s pushing her back in her seat, by pressing his blade on her throat. “You know what HAPPENS,” a tilt of his head, “when you LIE.” Friedrich is joined by Brigitta, as well as the echo of Müller’s voice, and Y/n’s heartbeat accelerates, her breath is caught in her throat. She feels like her ears are about to burst.

“He was unconscious when-“

“What did I just say?” Lips purse, scared of making any sound that’ll piss him off further. “Seems to me like you’ve forgotten,” he murmurs, flicking his knife shut and narrowing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she doesn’t dare to move an inch, but it feels like her heart has plummeted to the center of the earth, and she wishes it could drag her too, as far away from this as possible. She’s well aware of what’s to come.

 A chilling half hour later she finds herself sucking up tears that’ll only make her situation worse if someone were to see them. The cold, plastic, remote controller is in her hands, and it’s heavy as it’s ever been. She deems herself desensitized of the emotional toll forcefully inflicting torture on innocent people used to take. However, nothing, nothing, could possibly prepare her for what it feels like watching two HYDRA soldiers dragging her bleeding, thrashing brother from his armpits, and forcefully shoving him into the chair Y/n’s made. Director Müller watches her press the appropriate buttons with a sickly smile on his face.

She begs. For the first time in years, she begs God, the universe, something, to save her, to make her disappear. When this doesn’t work, when pleading for somebody to take mercy goes unheard, when the remote feels like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, her eyes draw to Müller, who’s watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on with her new assignment.

The millimeters her thumb has to cross feel endless. The process takes eons. The button is nearly unmoving.

Y/n will never forget her brother’s screams.

~~

In the hours that follow, she’s trapped inside her chamber, a tiny room of blank four walls with a hard bed and an open toilet, looking more like a prison cell than anything, the only difference being that in the daytime she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases within the unrestricted areas.

Tears streak her cheeks for yet another night, and the despair has never felt like this before. She thought she’d escape it one day, the guilt, the weight, but it seems she’s trapped, like an ant under a boot, seconds before she bursts to pieces, with the pressure of the entire world on her chest.

The itch grows louder. It’s right there, in the bottom of her heart, something to pay attention to, in her state of absolute isolation and despair. She’s alone, has been alone for so many years, and she wonders, still, why she hasn’t killed herself yet, but the idea that if she does, they’ll probably also kill her brother comes and slaps her in the face. However, what else is there to do? How much torture can she make her brother go through because of her mistakes, how much guilt can she shoulder?

She sits on the bed, counts the bolts that are screwing the vent door on the ceiling, listens to footsteps pass by every so often, and ponders. Silent tears crawl down the curves of her face. She’s lost so much. She hasn’t spoken her native language in years, and sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how to.

A pair of heavy duty boots leisurely walk down the hallway, and she recognizes the voices of two guards. Conversation easily flows between them, and Y/n has no choice but to listen.

“Did you hear about the new chair the American has made?” one of them says. Her ears perk.

“The American? No, what about it?”

“They say it’s one of the most painful things they’ve ever used in HYDRA.” Y/n winces.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what I heard. Wouldn’t wanna find out myself.” The soldiers share a chuckle. “Müller made the American do it on her brother. I hear he died about twenty minutes later.”

Y/n’s heart drops.

He- he’s- he’s dead?

“No kidding. The bastard survived six years. ‘S a wonder he’s lived this long” And as the soldiers pass by, Y/n’s left in her chamber. The silence grows deafening, but the echo of her heart splitting and falling apart, shattering on the hard concrete floor is ear-splittingly loud. All that she’s done, all the sacrifices, all the sheer, iron will she’s had to muster to maintain her sanity, all the awful things she’s done, the blood on her hands, the guilt, the pain she’s caused and- and in the end… he died by her own hand.

Chaos and confusion, an ocean of lashing thoughts violently crashing and pulling her under. It feels like the crescendo of the longest song that’s ever been written, six years of constant playing, and the orchestra’s hands are bleeding on the strings and buttons, coating everything with their own pain, worked down to the bone, and this is it- the minutes before it’s finally over. The roof is about to be blown off its hinges.

The itch is no longer underlying. It consumes her, and she knows, finally. She recognizes it. Escapism. Revenge.

~

Steve’s silent. He hasn’t looked away from her, hasn’t changed stance, still with his arms crossed over his chest and bulging underneath his dark green sweater. He’s staring at her, patiently as ever, with a set to his jaw that she knows isn’t there out of anger, but because he, too, is overwhelmed with emotion. His shoulders are no longer stiff, and he now has a cup of coffee too, finished in front of him. The bags under both their eyes are darker. 

“I didn’t get to kill Müller. But I managed to run away. Barely. I disappeared, travelled to the States. I found Fury and sold all the information I knew about HYDRA and the department I had been held in, in return for protection. Fury took me in.” It’s a lifeless shrug, weighted and tired, and it’s then that Steve glances at his feet, then back at her. “I trained, learned how to fight properly. Used my knowledge for good. Made it to the Avengers in a desperate attempt to make up for all that I had done. ‘S when I met you.”

Steve seems to remember. He recognizes himself entering the story. It’s almost like he’s reliving the time they first met, back on that Helicarrier. A good memory, all things considered.

“There’s little excuse for me lying to you. I know. But please, you have to understand. The burden of getting to know the best friend of the person you’d been forced to help torture for years… becoming close friends with you? How could I ever say anything about anything and have you actually trust me?” She shook her head.

“What do you mean…?”

“They forced me to make weapons, new torture methods, even tried to make me refine Zola’s formula. A way to get a better grip on Bucky’s mind. I didn’t know much about all of it, nor who it was for, wasn’t my field anyways, and Zola’s formula was successful as it was, there wasn’t much for me to add. They later left me to the torture part, not the brainwashing. Even if I had known, though, I wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter. I did anything I had to do to protect the only family I had left.” He nods seriously.

“We grew closer and closer and I wanted to tell you, to share my guilt with someone finally, but… the prospect of losing you was… too much. I didn’t want to lose the person that had reminded me for the first time in decades what it was like to be cared for. You were-“  a gulp “are like a brother to me.” Steve looks down. “I couldn’t see the betrayal on your face. It- it paralyzed me.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out, honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d find my file? But don’t think I never felt guilty. It was always there, like everything could crumble at any moment, like a cloud looming over my head, but… I guess I kind of learnt to ignore it. I had found a family, Steve. After years of pain, pain received and pain caused, after so much darkness, I had finally found people who understood what guilt felt like, what it meant to be composed on surface level. I found people that loved me for what I was then and there. The idea of losing that crushed me.

“I know I can’t take it back, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Steve.”  

Steve stays tight-lipped, pondering, staring at the table, then at her, then at the table again. He’s carefully controlling his expressions, clearly analyzing the information he’s been given, and she holds her breath. Whatever his reaction is, she thinks, nothing compares to the breath of fresh air she can allow herself to take, free of this awful, lengthy story. Finally, clear honesty, a sort of vulnerability with her best friend that’s different and new. True, down to its core.

It’s the sigh that does it for her. Resigned. Her eyes snap up at him. “You should’ve told me” He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at her, and shaking his head. “I would’ve understood. Nothing would’ve changed.” He looks right at her, very much like a discouraged parent. “What am I gonna do with you?”

And it’s- it’s the way he says it, as if everything makes sense now, shoulders dropping all the way down. The way he just- like he says you absolute moron, but in their own, loving, sibling-like way. As if  he can’t stay mad for too long. Looking at her with the tiniest sympathetic curl of his lip.

It’s relief, because it’s in that half a smile that she sees it all. She sees the forgiveness, the understanding. She sees the love. It’s as if he’s looking at her, saying family, am I right? Despite her situation, for the first time in years, so, so many years, she breathes deeply, breathes oxygen that feels nurturing to her lungs, that makes her think she’s floating, and smiles, apologetically, trying to telepathically communicate I’m sorry for being an idiot. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for fucking up this badly. I promise to be better.

She knows, he’ll always be there to give her another chance.

~

It’s moments, a handful of them, in which time and space seem to stop existing, to warp into something else entirely, a world that’s so confused, nobody knows how to put it back. It seems, in those moments, one forgets where they are, how they got there, their brain has not yet escaped from the liquefied dreamland it’s manifested, can’t seem to fit in the strict, square rigidness of reality.

Bucky finds himself in that place. His eyelids seem to weigh about twelve tons, barely feeling his fingertips. It takes a great deal of effort to have thoughts, to- to maintain them, and as his mind slowly starts running a little faster, he remembers faintly, cloudy memories barely registering, that the last thing he saw was three soldiers, that had sneaked up on him, he remembers the gun being aimed at him, instinctively moving and getting nailed in the stomach multiple times.

Wherever he is now, it’s quiet. He worries for a second that he’s been left for dead in the HYDRA base, worries that he’s either dying on the floor or a vague prison cell, resembling something he’s been in already, but he’s comforted by the fact that the surface he’s on seems soft, the lights behind his eyes bright. Whatever the case, he should wake up now, he might need to get up and defend himself.

And as his eyes open, heavy and tired, he meets another pair of gorgeous ones, familiar and soft, and he feels warm all over. He’s- he’s safe. He’s safe because she’s here, and he loves her, with all of his being he loves her, and she’s holding his right hand close to her chest, he feels everything, her warmth, and he knows it’ll all be okay, it’ll all fix itself. He doesn’t have to try.

There’s something lingering just beneath his skin though, a need to recoil. Like a small bucket of icy water thrown over him, because, yes, he loves her, but she betrayed him. She could be out to get him right now, could be working with HYDRA still, and he might be trapped somewhere, and his heartbeat accelerates, because he has to escape and he can’t trust her anymore- until he sees the tears. The tears streaking her cheeks, over old salty marks, and a smile, broken but whole. This isn’t the behavior of a captor, he decides, deems himself, if not safe, then entirely incapable of fighting back, should he need to anyways. Why worry now? Let his future self do the work.

His eyes move around the room, blue-ish gray walls vaguely familiar, and- there’s another figure, another pair of eyes- blue, happy. It’s Steve.

Bucky feels safe. He knows he’s alive. He knows he’s home.

~

Like any other free afternoon, Y/n finds herself on her couch, curled up as much as she can with a book in her lap. There’s a short lamp on the side table, and she leans on the armrest comfortably with her toes curled, flying through pages and pages of words. Her hair is down, she wears comfortable clothes, and has a blanket over her legs. The weather’s been getting colder lately.

A warm sound, four soft knocks on her wooden door, are enough to pull her out of her novel, enough to make her eyebrows stitch together. She’s not expecting anyone.

Her feet are bare and she’s well aware of how close her knives are to the front door, just in case she has to fling herself over and grab one. She presses her eye against the little peephole, but it’s old and foggy and the workers who had once repainted the building managed to cover part of it with small drops of paint and she hasn’t gotten around to trying cleaning it. Doorknob cold under her palm, she tilts and-

Oh.

The first thing she notices is his shirt, a maroon Henley, buried under two more layers of clothes, a brown hoodie and a darker brown leather winter jacket. The buttons on the collar of his Henley are open, giving her a cheeky peak of the skin of his chest. She loves this shirt on him. It feels like someone tugged at her heart from every direction. Longing.

The second thing she notices is that this- it’s Bucky. Bucky standing in front of her door with an expression she’s rarely, if ever, seen on his face before. Her favorite, gorgeous light blue eyes staring straight at her after briefly scanning her down, as if he, too, is making sure she’s actually there.  She is. And so is he. Here. Now. In front of her. Looking at her. Her feet are on the floor, she’s not dreaming, the world is round and Bucky is here.

Oh God. He’s really at her door.

“James…”

He seems to shiver. A shake of his head, something she recognizes as him convincing himself this is happening, then eyes meeting hers again. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. She holds the door less tensely.

“I think…” squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, looking at the floor. “Steve said to talk to you.” A heavy breath. Shoulders awkwardly, tensely shrugging, sorta like a kid forced to apologize by their parent. She doesn’t know how, but her head manages a nod, gulping. She pulls away from the doorframe, makes way for him to pass.

“Come in.”

 New York sounds as alive as it ever does, even at eleven at night, and Y/n wishes she was sitting, because her legs are unsteady. It makes tears well in her eyes, seeing him here again, in her kitchen, looking around absently. The world feels different, much like it did in the Compound when she’d gone to visit him, even if nothing has changed in it apart from them.

Despite the passing cars outside, and people yelling, heard through the open window, it feels quiet. As if they’re the only ones in the world, being here with him feels like a cosmic event. She remembers what it was like sitting here and being so overwhelmed by the love in her heart, remembers what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and held so impossibly close to his chest. She remembers what it was like to look in his eyes and see them so affectionately looking at her, as if she’s everything he could ever ask for, as if she’s the light in his world. The cold of the night and of the space between them feels very much like a slap in the face.

“I know you no longer work for them,” and it truly breaks her heart how part of that statement feels like he’s trying to convince himself, or as if it’s difficult for him to process. How awful, the shift between being someone’s favorite person and being someone who’s trustworthiness is little over questionable. The weight of being responsible for fucking up the most important relationships in her life suffocates her. “Steve told me.” 

There’s nothing to do but nod numbly. She looks at him, watches the warm, glimmering lights of her kitchen fall on the curves and edges of his face, admires the yellow-ish hue outlining his features, making his eyes look iridescent.

She mustn’t cry.

“He told me everything, actually.”

She must not cry.

Bucky doesn’t say a lot of words, but they’re there, at the tip of his tongue, floating in the air like dust particles. In this, there’s a lingering question, a large Why. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you hide all this from me? Why did it have to be this way?

Y/n looks down. What to say, really?

“I just- I can’t believe-“ she jumps at his loud tone, Bucky never one to have vocal outbursts. She sees the tears in his eyes, gaze lingering away from her, towards the living room for a second before looking up at the ceiling momentarily, then straight at her. His hands are shaking, and she sees it all then. The betrayal, the hurt, despair, the- the loss. There’s no alleviating this pain that overwhelms both of them. She hates herself for this, can’t believe she caused all of it.

“I- I did what I thought would be best for us-“

“No, don’t pull that shit with me.” He glares now and points at her, and she never, ever wanted to be in the receiving end of such an intimidating look. Venom is laced in his tone, harsh and biting, and it feels like the temperature in the room dropped below zero, her spine rigid. “You did what you thought was best for you,” said as calmly as the tears that slowly leak from the corners of his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks are. “In fact, I doubt you thought at all”

That’s not true though. The amount of times she’d sit in her bed, with his arms around her while he slept, weighed down by the lies and the guilt; the guilt of all the terrible things she’d done, and the guilt of hiding them from the most important people in her life. She’d scale the pros and cons of confessing everything, for hours she’d make lists in her head, extensively long, but the cons were always destructively larger and would always win. She’d choose to stay as she was, with them oblivious and happy, until they would finally see her for what she truly was, and she’d convince herself, it would all be worth it for the time spent with them.

“I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t face the idea of losing you I-“

“So you’d rather lie to me? You’d rather hide your past from me? I trusted you, Y/n.” He hasn’t called her by her first name in so long, and it feels like he just took one of her knives on her kitchen counter and stabbed her straight in her chest with it. “I gave you all of me, I told you every single little thing about myself, everything I hated, everything I’ve done, and I trusted you to have it and- and you couldn’t even trust me to listen to you? To- to understand you?”

She deserves this, she does, but she can’t- can’t deal with him yelling at her and, reflexively, she lashes out- “I was scared, Buck,” –and it’s a pitiful excuse, she knows, but it’s the bitter truth and the reason behind everything. “You have to understand- this isn’t some black and white situation, I thought you’d hate me for everything, I didn’t wanna lose you, or Steve!”

“Scared?” he seethes, walking towards her with angry steps, and she starts stepping back too, entering the living room. She realizes how large he looks, how his anger fills every corner of the room. “You were scared?!” She can practically taste the condescension on her tongue. “And you think I wasn’t?! You think I wasn’t paralyzed you’d run away after everything I’d done? You think I wasn’t terrified of my feelings for you and how fast they came to be?” She wishes she could answer that, but part of her is terrified to know what he used to feel for her and how much of it she actually ruined.

“But I’m a fucking adult, and I dealt with it. You… you lied about everything. Did you even give a shit about how badly you were gonna fuck me over, if I ever found out?”

“Does it look like I fucking like it? You know how sorry I am, how much I hate myself for everything I’ve done to ruin both yours and Steve’s trust in me!”

“I don’t know shit,” her legs bump on the back of her navy couch. “You hurt me- hurt us. We gave you everything, I put my heart on the line for you, and you couldn’t even have a little faith in me to believe in you, and what you truly are.”  A monster rings in Y/n’s brain. Nothing but a monster.

“Please, stop.” Submission. That’s all she has left, by now, because his words ring nothing but true. Because she can’t bear to hear everything she feels about herself being told back to her in his voice, it would literally be a nightmare come true. Everything drains in her body, and it all comes down to this. She just wants all of this to stop, the pain in both of them to stop.

“No,” he hisses, and she can’t really blame him. He’s close to her, about two feet away, and she’s trapped between him and the couch. “I’m not gonna stop just because things got uncomfortable for you, just because you had to come back because I was dying in a gurney. You barely tried to make everything right before that. Do you even care?”

“Don’t you see that I did everything because I love you?!”

Silence. Bucky nearly staggers back, as if the words that have never, before, been said came out and punched him in the face.

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t tell you anything? Because I wanted to break your heart? No, you clueless asshole, I’m in fucking love with you!” His expression is stunned, eyes wide at her outburst, watching as she takes the steps she needs to close the gap between them. Her finger is jabbing at his chest, which is raising and falling with panted breaths. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, couldn’t take to watch your trust break, couldn’t bear the thought of you finally seeing I’m a monster!” And she breaks down, a sobbing mess now, the tears that once trailed down her face, now endless. She covers her mouth, face crumpled and red.

“I j-j-just wanted us t-to be okay, bec-cause I love you t-too much to fuck-king lose y-you”, As her eyes shut, crying relentlessly in her hand, throat feeling like it’s gonna burst, she feels so eternally cold, as if showered by a bucket of icy water. The idea that she might once again be left alone in the world while someone she loves is taken away, all because of her actions- it’s too much. It takes her back to the worst day of her life, brings back a kind of cold so furious, it knots her joints and sends shudders down her spine- her hands tremble at the thought. She can’t believe how colossally she’s managed to screw things up with him, how much he hates her and genuinely believes she did anything less than care about him. .

Like a tidal wave, the emotions overwhelm her, the self-hate like a boulder that smacked her in the face and threw her down a cliff and now everything hurts, and her stomach feels like it’s climbing up her throat. Her heart tears through her chest, painful and slow, and it’s all her fault, everything, and there’s nothing there to fix it all, to make it better- except, all of a sudden, warm, strong arms curl around her. She breaks down harder, curling in his chest because she fucking missed this, missed his affection, his protective embrace, his comforting smell.

Fists clutching his shirt, she sobs, acutely aware of her tears wetting the material of that maroon Henley she loves so much. The arms around her curl tighter, one hand dipping under her hair to hold the nape of her neck gingerly, keeping her against him, thumb rubbing gentle circles. And it’s then that she hears it, his own sniffling, his chest shaking. He’s crying too. The need to provide the comfort she seeks is overwhelming, and she lets his shirt go, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him together too. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shoulders shaking, and Bucky shushes her, shaking his head slightly. His arms tighten briefly.

In her crying, she vaguely registers him moving them to the couch, both sitting down, and her curling up into him instinctively. For a while, until she calms down slightly, she lets herself be held and holds him back just as fiercely. It feels like she’s finally letting go, an outburst that frees her of part of the weight she’d been shouldering for years on end. It feels like release, a dam that broke and is spilling every last drop of water that’s been pushing at it for so long.

When she quiets down, when her sobs no longer hurt, no longer feel like they’ll split her ribcage to splinters, when her breathing sort of evens out, she pulls one of her hands to rest on Bucky’s chest, and pulls away to look at him. Bucky’s arms tighten to keep her close.

She’s well aware she must look like a mess, what with all the crying, but this is Bucky after all, her James, the love of her life. He’s seen her under all kinds of light now, and there’s no need to hide. Like he wants, if he is to care for her, after all this, he should care for her for all the things she is, not the things she pretends to be.

Bucky’s eyes are a little less bloodshot than hers. She cups his chin gently and watches his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids softly shut. With her thumb she gently strokes his cheek and notices the way he seems to lean into her palm, lips parting with heavy breaths. He missed her too.

He opens his eyes again to look at her and leans his forehead down to touch hers, holds her closely and brushes the tip of his nose on the bridge of hers so lightly she almost misses it. She sighs. “You have every right to be angry at me,” she whispers to him, pulling her hand back and tucking it in her chest. “I lied, and I didn’t trust you, and I acted the complete opposite way of how I should have. For all of that,” a breath sucked, almost clogged at the center of her chest, “for all of that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky, still infinitely close to her, shakes his head gently. He takes one arm from around her, and she thinks this is it; this is where he says goodbye-

But, gentle as always, he places his right hand on the side of her neck, softly nudges her head up to his and drops his lips on her own, a ghost of a kiss, short and unexpected, before he pulls back and looks at her. “I love you.” He whispers, breath hitting her lips, and her eyes well with tears once again, as she looks up at him. She never thought she’d hear those words, not after everything. Bucky kisses her single fallen tear away, noses at her temple.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, the same way you didn’t think I am one. You helped me heal, helped me learn that those things I did, they weren’t me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“B-but-“

“No, you listen to me.” He tells her, his grip around her body tightening, giving emphasis to his words. “You did what you had to do to protect your brother. What you did… The blood isn’t on your hands.” He has not let her gaze go for a second, and she’s transfixed, tears still overflowing- she wonders when she’ll finally run out of them. “I love you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I love you more than I thought I was ever capable of. Thinking you betrayed me completely incapacitated me, but I understand you. I see you. I forgive you.”

She gasps, shudders, and in the spur of a single waking moment, lunges at him, kisses him fiercely, holds him tightly. Their lips mold together, and the last pieces of the universal puzzle of the cosmos click to place. Everything settles, mouths moving in sync, desperate, hungry, all the emotions tumbling out all at once, and it’s like the slingshot snapped, and the missile hit the target. She bites his bottom lip, and the groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest, tongues tangling together. His metal arm crushes her against him, hand buries in his hair, their noses smush together, breaths strangled, air shared, and…This- this feels like belonging. No- more like, this feels like coming home.

Inevitably, they part, trying to suck in much needed air, foreheads knocking together gently and chests heaving. It seems like they feed off each other’s personal space, like they hold each other in one piece, while also completing one another. To Y/n it feels like a breath of fresh air.

“This doesn’t mean we’re perfect yet,” Bucky utters gently, not in a menacing way, but as a soft clarification, a request even. “I- I’m gonna need some time.” She’s grateful he even chose to give her a chance at all. Y/n smiles up at him affectionately and nods.

“Of course, Buck. All the time you need.” She caresses the side of his face with gentle fingers, traces his features with a feather-light touch, then cups his jaw. “Thank you.” And it’s weighted, hangs low in the air. She looks at him intensely to make sure he knows she means it. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into her touch, then blinks them open, brilliant, sky blue irises staring right at her. “I love you so much.” He breathes out heavily.

“Say that again,” he whispers. She grins at him as if he’s all good things in the world, because he is.

“I love you, Sergeant Barnes.” A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you with all of my being.” A kiss gently tucked on each of his eyelids. “I love you for all that you are.” And she kisses him on his lips sweetly, and he responds like she’s made out of glass, like she’s fragile. He sighs out. They breathe close to each other for a while.

“I know you said you need some time. Do you… wanna go out with me? Coffee? At Michelle’s?” Bucky grins. Their spot. He nods.

“I’d really love that.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. An olive branch. The first step to gain his trust back. There’s nothing Y/n deems more important. With a deep  breath, she knows. She’s ready to do anything, to work her hardest to earn a place in his life, the one he’s so graciously offered her. To get to build a future with him, on steady foundation this time.

Their life begins now. Y/n can’t wait to live it. With him.

~~

A/N 2: please tell me what you thought!

[sapphiewritesandstuff]

Long Awaited

Pairing: Hanako x F!Reader, slight Nene x F!Reader Warnings: Slight spice (nothing NSFW tho) Word Count: 2,170 I wrote this 2-3 months (?) ago, but never finished. I revamped it and finished it to keep you guys entertained while I work on the Teru + Kou x Reader content <3

The sound of the bell signaling the end of your last class sounded, prompting everyone to rush out of the class as quickly as humanly possible, all the while creating a solid wall of human that is virtually impossible to pass through.

“What’s gotten into them?” You muttered, raising an eyebrow at your classmates' antics. The blonde boy besides you paused in his rambling, brows furrowing as he too noticed the flood of human bodies between them and the door.

“Oh no,” Kou groaned, slapping a hand to his face in a gesture that suggests helpless frustration. “What’s wrong?” You asked, amused at Kou’s dramatic display.

“We were late yesterday and Hanako threatened to—” he wiggled his fingers with a menacing face that looked nothing like the amber-eyed apparition, “do things to Yashiro.”

You sweatdropped, giggling at Kou’s panic. “Don’t worry, we can exorcise him together if he tries anything.” Your tone dropped at the end of your sentence, eyes darkening a tad. It was Kou’s turn to sweatdrop.

Seeing that the people by the door had lessened a considerable amount, he grabbed your arm, pulling you out the door at a brisk pace. “Come on, (Name)-san!”

---

The two of you stopped, panting as you reached the entrance of the girl’s bathroom. 

“Hanako-kun!” You declared, kicking open the door. “If you touch one hair on Nene-senpai—” The sight that greeted you left you speechless. 

Your radish friend knelt with her back towards the mirrors, a hand held to her head with a confused expression on her face. Hanako, on the other hand, sat collapsed across from her, hands clutching at his face.

“Nene-senpai?!” You exclaimed, rushing over to Nene’s side, cupping her cheeks gently. Her amber eyes widened with surprise, a slight flush visible on the apples of her cheeks. 

Kou rushed to Hanako’s side, hauling him up by his collar. “Oi, Hanako! What did you do to Senpai?!” Hanako let out an uncharacterized squeak of surprise, ruby eyes widening.

“Wha-What?” Hanako asked, eyes darting around the room. “Hanako-kun? What do you mean, I—” Before she could finish, Nene interrupted quickly, pulling you to her chest in one smooth motion.

“Hanako-kun! Are you okay? When that apparition came, I was so scared…” She sobbed, but ‘Hanako’ caught a smug glint in ‘Nene’s’ eyes. 

He sighed internally. Why did I even get myself into this?

A few minutes prior…

“Hey, Yashiro.” Nene looked up from her work to give Hanako a look of distrust. “I know that voice, Hanako-kun. Whatever you’re trying to rope me into, it’s not going to happen.” 

Hanako pouted, giving Nene his best look of utter devastation. “You haven’t even heard what I was going to say yet~”

Nene eyed him warily, taking a step back for good measures. Hanako floated a pace closer, amber eyes practically sparkling. “Pleeaase~? Just hear me out.”

The ombre haired girl sighed, lifting a hand to her face. No, Nene. Don’t fall for his tricks— “Fine. I suppose I could listen.” What are you doing? Refuse before he could go on!

“Well…” Hanako trailed off, scratching his cheek sheepishly. “You know about my, uh, fondness for (Name), right?” Nene paused for a second, mind swirling with thoughts. 

This is perfect blackmail material! Hanako-kun, you’re going to regret all those times you teased me about my legs.

She hummed smugly, giving the ghost a knowing smirk. “Oh, it was obvious. Except (Name)-chan seems to always reject you~”

Ouch, she hits hard. Hanako winced, chuckling awkwardly. “About that—” Before he could finish, a thud could be heard by the window. A moment after, the window snapped open, and smoke poured into the room. 

Hanako’s head snapped up, thoughts of you momentarily put off as he drew his knife and summoned Hakujoudai. “Who’s there?!”

No one replied, but the smoke kept creeping towards them. “Yashiro! Don’t breathe in the smoke,” he started, but trailed off when Nene’s unconscious form slumped onto the floor behind him. He cursed under his breath, kneeling down besides her. 

“Yashiro!”

---

Yes. The smoke had caused the two to switch bodies. Which, in turn, translated to the current events to unfold as the real Hanako and fake Nene hugged you closer to her. She even managed to shed a few real tears, hoping you would comfort her the way you usually comforted the real Nene.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, tugging ‘Nene’ forward to give her a hug, to which she responded with another sob. ‘Hanako’ shot a glare at ‘Nene’, which prompted Kou to ask, “Er, Hanako, are you okay?” ‘Hanako’ sighed, annoyed at having to act like the annoying, and on top of that, perverted spirit. 

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly. He scowled, debating whether he should bail out on the apparition, until a sudden idea popped up in his mind. It was now ‘Hanako’s’ turn to smirk. 

“Hey, Yashiro,” ‘Hanako’ started, strolling towards the two still embracing on the floor. “You’ve been clinging to (Name) for quite a while now~” he made sure to add the little sing-song tone Hanako often used when teasing them. 

‘Nene’ gave him a glare to which he responded with a smug smirk. Have a taste of your own medicine, Hanako-kun!

You stood up, ignoring ‘Hanako’s’ comment and giving your friend an encouraging smile. “Just ignore him, Nene-senpai.” 

‘Nene’ nodded, still half-glaring at her real body. 

Gotta step up your game, Hanako-kun. The real Nene thought, sticking out her tongue at ‘Nene’. 

‘Nene’ gave ‘Hanako’ a forced smile and casually pinned you against the wall, effectively trapping (and confusing) you. She twirled a strand of her long, cream colored hair around a finger while her other hands kept yours against the wall.

“Ne, (Name)-chan,” she started, giving you a look that can only be described as sultry. “Don’t you think my lips are a little dry today~?”

You gave her a look of confusion, eyeing the hand trapping your wrists above you. “Um, I guess? They do look a little chapped.”

The amber-eyed girl leaned closer to you, lips dangerously close to your own. “Why don’t you help me moisturize them a bit?” She purred. 

‘Hanako’ sidled up beside you, slipping a finger under your chin and bringing it towards him, ruby eyes gazing into yours under half-lidded eyes. “Now, now, Yashiro,” he purred, “Don’t be such a dirty radish~”

Internally, the real Nene cringed at her own words. I can’t believe I just said that about myself. But her determination to outdo Hanako in this contest of… whatever this was overwhelmed her sense of shame and embarrassment. 

In the real Hanako’s mind, he was currently cursing Nene, glaring at her the best he could while still maintaining the mood.

Meanwhile, Kou stared at the trio from his position by the door. He stared, not exactly sure what he was looking at. He decided to speak out, seeing the evident confusion and discomfort on your face. 

“Uh, Hanako, Senpai. I think (Name)-san needs her space.” Nene, remembering that she was currently supposed to be Hanako, spoke up, waving a hand dismissively and trying her best to make Hanako look bad when they returned to their real bodies. “Butt out, kid. Can’t you see I’m trying to tease my dear little (Name)-chan here?” 

‘Nene’ pulled you away from ‘Hanako’, wrapping her arms smugly around your form and resting her chin on your shoulder. “Stay away from (Name)-chan, you pervert!”

The real Nene irked, eye twitching at how hypocritical this was. You’re the real pervert here!

Instead, he pouted, grabbing one of your hands and placing a soft kiss on the back of it. “I’m the pervert? Says the naughty radish with the wandering h-a-n-d-s~”

Sure enough, one of ‘Nene’s’ hands had wandered up right below your chest. Blushing bright red, you struggled out of the amber-eyed girl’s arms, spinning around to face them.

“What is wrong with you today, Senpai?” You asked, arms held protectively over your chest area. ‘Nene’ shrugged, sliding her hands into her skirt pockets. “Whatever do you mean, (Name)-chan?”

You squinted at her cautiously. It was still Nene’s sweet voice and her small frame, yet somehow, she managed to pin you to a wall with seemingly no effort. Processing the information, your heart jumped and your flaming scarlet cheeks darkened a tone. 

Arms surrounded you gently and you were pulled into yet another embrace, although this time it was more warm and friendly than flirtatious. Hanako’s voice whispered by your left ear, “I’ll protect you, (Name)-chan.”

As much as Nene had wanted it to sound like she was Hanako, she also genuinely wanted to protect you from getting hurt, so her words had no qualities of playfulness to them.

You gazed back at her as she said those words, eyes glistening and lips slightly agape. “Hanako-kun…”

‘Nene’ gritted her teeth. She wanted to shout at the real Nene, to remind her, you’re supposed to be helping me. But with the starstruck look you had in your eyes, the real Hanako felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He wanted you to look at him like that, not Yashiro in his body!

‘Nene’ slowly relaxed her jaws, letting her pursed lips melt into a dark smirk. 

“If you’re so determined to brand me as the villain…” She started towards the two, honey toned eyes darkening, “Then, I’ll play the role of the bad boy~”

Shoving you onto the bathroom floor, she smirked at your widened eyes and once again pinned your wrists to the floor, successfully straddling you. 

“Ne-Nene-senpai—” Holding her finger to your lips, she shushed you. Despite that, you continued to speak, panic evident in your dilated pupils, “What are you doing?!”

‘Nene’ narrowed her eyes, reaching out to swipe her thumb across your bottom lip.

“Shhhh, (Name)-chan,” she murmured, leaning down closer to you, long hair brushing your cheeks. “If you can’t learn to be quiet, then maybe I’ll have to seal your lips for you~”

Closing the distance between the two of you, her lips brushed against yours.

Right before Kou hauled her up by the collar of her uniform. “S-Senpai. I don't know what's wrong with you today, but that’s enough.”

Having been discovered, Hanako tried to play it cool. “Kou-kun?” He used Nene’s large, watery ruby eyes to his advantage, watching as the blonde exorcist’s face turned red as he released the apparition.

Sitting up from the floor, you groaned, wiping a hand over your face. “Wow, Hanako-kun. I knew you were a pervert but I never thought you’d actually take it that far.” 

Kou’s eyes widened. “That’s Hanako?” He asked, jabbing a finger at Nene’s form. You nodded, dusting off your skirt as you stood up to stand beside the real Nene, who was currently residing in Hanako’s body. 

The blue-eyed boy once again plucked ‘Nene’ up from her position on the floor. “Wait. You’re Hanako?!” ‘Nene’ stuck out her tongue at him, rolling her amber eyes at him mockingly. “You’re stupid to not have noticed earlier, kid.” 

Kou froze, looking over at ‘Hanako’ who gave him a sheepish wave. “So… That’s really Senpai?” You once again gave a nod of confirmation, slightly sullen. The real Nene gave you a comforting pat on the back. 

“That means… you blackmailed Senpai into helping you harass (Name)-chan!”

Just as the blonde exorcist finished his declaration, a puff of smoke surrounded the two, and moments later, Kou held not Nene, but Hanako by the scruff of his black gakuran. 

Before anyone could say anything, Nene clutched at her cheeks with a sudden gasp, eyes shining with panic. “Ah, Hanako-kun!” She cried, sending a deadly glare towards the amber-eyed ghost. “You almost stole my first kiss!”

At her accusation, Kou released Hanako, who dropped to the floor with a wince, also giving the toilet ghost a disapproving glare. “Explain yourself, Hanako.”

Hanako shrugged lightly, floating up to face the three of you. “Weeelllll,” he drawled, edging closer to you.

You shot him an unimpressed look, but didn’t move away as Hanako latched on to your shoulders, hiding behind you like a nervous child. “It’s fine Kou, I don’t really mind what he did.”

Hanako froze, eyes widening. You didn’t mind his obvious attempt to kiss you? Does that mean- Could that mean-? Your stern voice brought him back to his senses. “But you do have to apologize to Nene-senpai for dragging her into this.”

Sulleningly, the black-haired ghost crept out from behind you, pouting a little. “Sorry, Yashiro~” The cream-haired girl sighed, but acknowledged the apology with a nod.

The four of you were quiet for a few seconds after that, content with the comfortable silence. 

Until Hanako’s arm curled around you, pulling you closer to him while simultaneously pulling off his hat in front of your face to prevent Kou and Nene from seeing anything.

And finally, his cold, but soft lips caressed yours, in a kiss that had been long awaited by the both of you.

[whimperwoods]

titles are hard. it’s d&d-based fantasy whump tho. Arms of the Enemy? somebody give me a better title challenge.

I saw a post about being rescued and carried bridal-style by an enemy and it was great but now I don’t know where it is? If you have it, please shoot it my way and I’ll link it, ‘cause whoever thought of it first was a genius. ^_^

Anyway this got quite long so I’m stopping here and hopefully gonna write more at some point?

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. In the space between the Old One and the Emperor, they might be able to become something else.

Also Ed is hurt real bad and Castor is carrying him out of the dungeon because sometimes he acts on impulse.

tw: blood, tw: coughing up blood, tw: descriptions of deaths in battle

***************

Castor stepped into the cell and found himself frozen, his feet unmoving on the floor. It was one thing to see Sir Edmond like this in his scrying orb and another entirely to see it in person.

The limp, battered form of his enemy didn’t move at the sound of the door creaking open, and Castor felt a cold weight settling in the pit of his stomach. He’d left his room in the tower knowing the knight couldn’t be left in the dungeon, but Sir Edmond had still been awake then, struggling to keep his head up even as the rest of his body lay unmoving where it had been thrown.

His footsteps didn’t rouse the man, either, and the relief he would have expected turned to a sick horror twisting around the weight in his gut. He hurried forward, moving before he could second guess himself, and scooped Sir Edmond into his arms.

His hand shook as he held it out toward the point where the chain around the knight’s ankle was attached to the wall. He had to be careful, had to cast the spell far enough on the other side of the wall that he wouldn’t catch the two of them in it, but he couldn’t afford too long aiming or he’d drop the dead weight in his arms.

He released the magic, and a concussive wave sped forward with a loud crack, breaking open the end of the chain and sending a ripple of cracks outward through the stone, stopping just short of his feet.

Sir Edmond started shifting in his grip, moving weakly, and Castor felt his face begin to burn, unsure how to explain himself. But what was done was done, and he needed to hurry out of the cell before someone could find him in the middle of things.

He’d meant to wrap the end of the chain around Sir Edmond before he left the cell, but up close, there was nowhere to wrap them that wasn’t already bloody, the knight’s body ripped open in so many places that even where he was whole, Castor couldn’t see it through the blood crusted over his skin.

He scooped up the end of the chain, gathering it up and draping it over his own arms before he hurried out of the room, his greatest enemy cradled safely against his chest.

*****

As Ed came to consciousness, everything hurt. His breath stuttered and faltered in his chest, and his eyes teared up in silence as the movements of his own lungs sparked waves of agony that rolled through him like fire.

Something was different. He wasn’t on the ground. He was in the air, held up by - something. Something warm. There was something against his side, against his cheek, that was warm and solid and gave like the floor didn’t.

He needed to know what it was. It was new. He forced his eyes open, desperation and despair settling against his breastbone as even that required two flickering tries to accomplish.

He was being held. Carried. He could feel the motion, now, could identify the additional waves of pain that didn’t match his breathing. The arms around him were strong, but the chest was clothed in a thick sweater he didn’t recognize. The face was blurred with the tears he hadn’t been able to hold back, and he couldn’t identify the man.

He leaned into the man’s chest as best he could, grasping the front of the sweater and holding on, hoping it would help him steady himself at least long enough to blink his eyes clear.

*****

Sir Edmond’s breaths came in shallow, broken gasps that shook his whole body, and Castor was relieved when the man grabbed ahold of his sweater, because it meant that he at least wasn’t trying to get away.

His own heart was racing and not only with the exertion of climbing stairs while carrying a man nearly his own size. Before, he never would have managed. Before, Sir Edmond had been a looming figure, terrifying, his eyes full of fire as he crossed battlefields, kept away from Castor and the other mages only by the strength of Zhok’s rage kept defensively between them. He still had nightmares, sometimes, of Sir Edmond’s sword tearing through an assassin’s chest, the light dying from her eyes before she even realized she hadn’t evaded his notice.

Sir Edmond’s grip on his sweater tightened and Castor instinctively pulled him in closer as they reached the top of the dungeon stairs, his heart racing and his throat filling with an old lump.

He knew where he’d meant to go, but it meant so much extra distance, before the night was out, and Sir Edmond was so weak, so much weaker than he’d realized, through the tiny image of the crystal.

Sir Edmond’s breaths were loud, choking things, and Castor’s feet turned toward the outside, where he’d planned to go, and tried not to worry too much about the rest. It would be extra distance, but the sound of the knight’s breathing wouldn’t echo, wouldn’t be so deafening without the walls to bounce it back to him, hollow and damning.

He just had to get outside. Get to the stables. Not look back, or second-guess himself. He pulled Sir Edmond closer again, hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Things had seemed so clear through the crystal, so obvious when Sir Edmond was lying, ruined, at his feet, and now - now the only thing he could make sense of was that he’d at one point had a plan.

*****

Ed blinked. Blinked. Forced his eyes to open, to close, to open, to clear.

The face above him was familiar, but it took a moment to place, even knowing where he was imprisoned. Castor the Black, Herald of Night, Battle Mage of the Dark Emperor. One of many men who had killed Ed’s soldiers. The man who had blasted common soldiers backward like he had a cannon at the end of his am, who had sucked the life from their battle cleric with one hand and run away so fast even horses couldn’t keep up with him. One of the emperor’s finest.

He sucked in a sharp, deep breath that made him dizzy with pain. His body spasmed around it, his tensed muscles pulling open his injuries as they tried to protect the aching lungs that half-collapsed in his chest. As he gasped to refill his lungs, his whole body convulsed with a violent, racking cough that brought up some of his own blood.

“Shit!” the mage said, stopping in his tracks and pulling Ed closer to him, holding tighter as Ed’s coughing shook them both. “Shit! It’s ok! I’ve got you!”

Ed choked and gagged, every inch of him screaming in agony around the rough jerk of his coughs, and his eyes filled with tears again, obscuring the mage’s face.

He was pressed tightly to the mage’s chest, and the hand he’d balled up in the man’s sweater had instinctively clenched tighter against the danger of falling, his own body betraying him as it fought to live through the coughing fit.

His head grew lighter, and then lighter again, bright sparks lighting up the inside of his eyelids with every sharp, shallow hack his cramping lungs could manage.

His breath only slowed itself after his consciousness slipped away again.

*****

Castor felt Sir Edmond’s grasp tightening in the front of his sweater, but the man’s panicked choking still threatened to wrench him out of Castor’s arms. He slid to his knees, trying to shorten the distance to the ground, and ended up half curled around the man, as if that would protect him from what had already been done.

Sir Edmond’s fingers loosened when he fell unconscious, and Castor took a deep breath, his head sagging forward toward the knight’s bloodied face as he held the man in his lap.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself. When it didn’t satisfy him, he whispered it again, more vehemently. “Fuck!”

He sat up.

This was stupid. A mistake. This had always been a mistake. And yet - he looked down at the unconscious body in his arms, the man he had watched through his scry crystal for all those years and hated, watched again for all those months of unbrokenness and scorned, watched in these last days once he was broken and pitied - no. No, he’d made his choice.

He rearranged his grip on the knight and clambered shakily to his feet, hoping to get to the stables before the man woke up again.

*****

Ed hurt. He hurt. He fought through the pain, trying to find a sense of himself, and realized only after a dozen ragged breaths that he wasn’t in his cell. He was warm, floating, held by something, and the surface against his face was - was - things slid into place and he cried out weakly, shoving away from the mage’s chest and going nowhere, his arms too weak to free him.

“Hey,” the man answered, his voice rumbling through his chest so that Ed could feel it in his hands, a pleasant hum in a pleasant warmth, and everything in him hated that Castor the Black was the only pleasant thing in his world, now.

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. A new torment, cleverer than the old pain, like this enemy was cleverer than the ones who had beaten him in the cell, long after he’d given them what they wanted.

“No,” he rasped, his voice more groan than speech, “No.”

A ‘please’ hovered at the tip of his tongue, right there, before he snatched it back. No. No. He wasn’t begging. He had begged before, just once before, and look what it had gotten him.

He shoved against the mage’s chest only to find the man’s grip tightening instead of loosening, humiliation on top of humiliation. His throat tightened, and his breath came harder, made him fight harder for it, made his whole body shudder and quake and threaten to rattle itself into broken, bloody pieces. He was dying. He was dying. Why was he not just allowed to die?

The arms tightened around him, the pressure agonizing against his wounds, but the tightness in his throat was something else, something else, and it was getting worse, and he would not cry in front of Castor the Black unless he was made to.

“It’s alright,” the mage said, the rumble in his chest back, his voice gentle, gentle, a trick. “It’s alright, we’re almost there. I’ve got you.”

“No,” he managed again, barely a whisper, his hands sliding uselessly down the front of the mage’s soft sweater as he tried to push away and found himself falling closer instead, his arms giving out before he could even begin.

Castor the Black had armor, gleaming leather as dark as he could get, almost not brown at all, but in spite of the blood Ed had gotten on it, the fabric under his cheek and hands was soft, warm and comforting, something that belonged somewhere safe, somewhere far from here. His fingers closed around it, and he couldn’t stop them.

*****

Sir Edmond stilled in Castor’s arms, going quiet and unresisting, his fingers locking back into the front of his sweater, and Castor didn’t know if that was better or worse than the knight trying to push away. It was at least easier, which was something, and Castor forced himself to concentrate on that part, on the practicalities of putting one foot after the other and getting to the stables.

His arms ached from carrying the man’s weight, almost as dead and leaden now as it had been when the knight was unconscious.

He wasn’t built for this. He wasn’t trained for it. He’d fooled himself, thinking himself so different from the wizards that made up most of the emperor’s forces. If their positions were reversed, Sir Edmond could carry him with ease. If their positions were reversed, Sir Edmond would have put a sword through his heart long ago.

When he reached the well beside the stables, he set the knight down beside it and collapsed onto the ground next to him, his arms strangely weightless and aching softly.

He knew better than to speak directly into the man’s mind, knew he shouldn’t open up that kind of link, knew it would only frighten someone who had been an enemy for so long. He caught his breath instead, watching the knight pull himself together, curl in on himself in tiny, weak, desperate motions, and split open some of his wounds, barely scabbed over.

“Don’t,” Castor said, as gently as he could manage, his hand hovering over Sir Edmond’s shoulder as he realized he couldn’t find a place to touch him that wouldn’t be worse. “Don’t. You’ll only open up more of your wounds.”

*****

Ed’s face burned. Castor the Black pitied him. Had he really fallen so far? He moved in tiny, tiny jerks, motions of less than an inch that took all of his strength and sent dizzying waves of pain through him as surely as the mage’s steps had.

It didn’t matter. Breathing hurt, too. Everything hurt. He’d never hurt, like this. Not even with lightning coursing through him in the middle of a fight. A wretched, pained noise fell from his throat unbidden, and he turned it into a growl as best he could, baring his remaining teeth at the enemy mage.

The mage sighed heavily, tipping his head back and leaning it against - something. Ed forced his head up, trying to get a better look, only to find that he didn’t have the strength to keep it there. Fuck. He turned his face away from his enemy as much as he could without grinding it into the dirt, embarrassed and focusing the last dregs of his strength on keeping himself from crying.

“I don’t think I can get you back to the castle tonight,” the mage said eventually, his voice calm and soft. “So we’ll have to make the best of it.”

The mage moved, a rustling sound accompanied by a soft half-grunt, and then footsteps. Ed twitched, an instinctive flinch he only half managed to stop, and another pathetic high-pitched noise wheezed out his throat. He breathed again, his closed eyes tightening against the shame and the motion of his lungs hurting, hurting, hurting.

Make the best of it. Gods, what did that mean? The words thumped dully against his brain, but he was too dazed and overwhelmed to know anything more than that they sounded like the important part.

He breathed, and breathed, and did not cry, even as reopened wounds oozed blood down his back and thighs.

The mage walked away from him, the man’s footsteps becoming fainter and fainter, and Ed lay there, too weak to run, too weak to move, too weak to fight for anything but a last shred of dignity. His throat was thick and his sinuses pressed at the back of his nose. It wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.

The breeze blew over him, gentle, and he waited, and feared, and hurt, and did not cry.

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part twenty one/

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: We are getting to the point where Nikki’s addiction really starts to take full effect(affect?) I finished reading the heroin diaries so it gives me an idea how to get inside this version of Nikki’s head, and to pick your brain as well haha also I did a lot of brainstorming with @electradestiny last night. She helped me come up with some fucked up ideas hahahaha. Enjoy this tho! Feedback is always appreciated💖

Warnings: drug use...heavy fucking drug use, language, implied domestic violence, angsty

Taglist: @brideofdraculana, @xstarryeyes, @aryssav, @miserablecunt, @fandomshit6000, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @venus-calum, @tiranni, @justjodeye, @anntheboneless, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @dillightfulpickle, @countrygirlswonderland, @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @madsthegroupie, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance, @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @motlycrue, @motley-queen, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilyhw1, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @yxzzie420, @teenwolflover28, 

January ‘85

Nikki’s POV

I found my self huddled in the bathroom corner craving another shot of china white. I sighed in pure bliss as I remembered I had a rig tucked into my combat boots. I gently pulled it out, my fingers shaking with anticipation as my body was getting ready for another hit.

I took off my belt off, wrapping it around my bicep, tightening as it made my veins bulge out. I uncapped the rig, slowly taking my time sticking it into my arm.

I couldn’t tell you who showed me this, but man, were they a fucking gift from a God I don’t believe in. I’ve always snorted smack or smoked it at times, but shooting up? Fuck, it was like experiencing heaven, sometimes it was even better than sex.

I watched as my blood mixed with the liquid gold substance inside the barrel of the needle. Slowly I pulled the rig out of my arm, watching blood trickle down the now abused flesh.

My eyes fluttered into my head, as I leaned against the wall with a small smile playing on my lips. Heroin felt like a security blanket to me, I felt warm, safe & whole. I felt all the warmth I didn’t receive growing up, all the love, everything felt fine for once in my fucking existence.

I can’t get that stupid pompous asshole Julian our my fucking head, though. Fuck that guy. I could see why Vanity fell for him. He’s a rich, arrogant son of a bitch who has everything in the world going for him.

Fuck, Vanity.

I remember thinking one time before she was my greatest chase, that was a fucking lie. Heroin was now my greatest chase to date.

How could a female cheat on any guy that is just trying to make her happy? I never took her for the cheating type. I didn’t think she would have it in her, especially to sit on someone else’s dick in the bed she shared with her fiancé. That was fucking dirty, I would kill a bitch if she ever pulled that on me.

Why did she end up having to be a whore? I enjoyed her company, I would like to think she was my best friend, a great best friend. The type of best friend that would let me fuck her whenever I wanted. It’s like I hardly fucking know her now, but yet here she is knowing everything about me. God, why do I do these things to myself?

The words Julian spoke wove themselves into my brain, just hearing his stupid voice on repeat.

Mick’s POV

God damn, fucking back deterioration. I groaned as I stood up from the couch, clutching a vodka bottle, hobbling my way to the bathroom, “Go away!” I heard Nikki from the other side of the door, “Fuck off!” I yelled back, as I let go of the door knob.

I continued walking down the hallway to the other bathroom. A wave of relief washing over me that it wasn’t locked. I opened the door, leaning into it as the alcohol was finally hitting me. I saw Vanity standing there, a trembling mess with a rag up to her mouth. She finally realized I was in the bathroom. “What the fuck happened to you!” I shouted with wide eyes, tears falling from her eyes as she watched my reflection in horror.

“Just go away Mick.” Her voice was hoarse as she choked back her tears, spitting blood into the sink, “You must be out of your god damn mind.” I said, slamming the bathroom door and walking over to her, but she backed away from me. “Stop it, let me help you.” I demanded, taking the rag that use to be white from her hands.

Her bottom lip was split and swollen, and I noticed she had a huge welt on the side of her cheek. “Was this Julian?” I questioned, her eyes full of tears, “He fucking lied about everything.” She said through tears, burying her face into my chest. I soothingly ran my hand over the top of her head, “And-and, Nikki believed him.” She was choking on her breath through gasps of udder sadness. “Just relax Vanity, he’s not here.” I spoke softly, removing her from my chest and standing her in front of me as I gently dabbed her lip.

“How could Nikki just believe him! He doesn’t know him, he knows me!” She yelled out in frustration, “Don’t worry about him right now, we need to get you fixed up.” I told her, continuing to dab her lip.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” She said with a chuckle and a slight wince of pain, letting a another small laugh escape, which made me smile. She was always trying to find the good in things. “Where did he go?” I asked her, her responding with a shrug.

“I’m gonna beat him unconscious and then when he comes through, I’m gonna do it again.” I told her, a glimmer of doubt in her golden orbs.

“He’s insane and unpredictable, Mick...you can’t do anything to him! You can’t say anything to him, or to anyone else!” She spoke, getting worked up all over again.

“What do you fucking think people are gonna ask when you go out there with a busted up lip and a black eye? What are you gonna tell them, huh?! No one is gonna believe that you got your ass kicked by another chick!” I shouted quietly at her, bewildered that she was even protecting him.

“He’s Vince’s lawyer, it would ruin everything.” She said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, wincing when she went over the now purple bruise under her eye. I nodded, agreeing with her. If I did anything it would fuck up everyone’s life.

“I won’t forget this. The moment Vince walks out of that jail, I am finding Julian and I’m gonna kick his stupid, impertinent ass. He ain’t a man for beating a woman.” I said, finishing a last gentle wipe to the dried clot of blood on her lip.

Vanity looked at herself in the mirror, starting to cry again. “He broke my nose one time.” She said, showing me a scar on her nose, deeply exhaling. “I also have a five inch scar running down the middle of my back from him. He chased me around our house in the middle of the night with a knife. He woke me up when he came home, saying I was cheating on him.” All I could do was blink & give a reassuring nod as she continued explaining the history she had with Julian.

“I almost ran out the front door, but he tackled me from behind and drove the knife into me. I laid there for I don’t even know how long bleeding out as he left, I didn’t see him for almost a month. Greyson was only sixteen when he found me. He was at a friends house down the street, he found his way over while drunk. I always let him stay the night whenever he was partying and didn’t want to go home to face Mom and Dad.” I watched as she recollected her memories.

“It took me a very long fucking time to work through it....and now he’s just here again. In my fucking face, like nothing had happened, like I was still with him. The berating, the way he’d trap me in a corner and I wouldn’t have a way out, I would just have to take his abuse and deal with it afterwards.” The more and more she went on, the more I wanted to have Julian dealt with.

“And believe me Mick, he was such a wonderful guy! He really was! He was so good to me in the beginning, but I don’t know what happened, or where I went wrong.” She said, in return I glared at her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, he was destined to be a piece of shit. Let’s just go back to the party. Find Tommy and Nikki, so you can tell them cause I’m not explaining why your face is fucked up.” I told her, she scoffed with an added eye roll.

“Am I still pretty, though?” She asked, looking into the mirror, fixing her hair. “Beautiful as ever, sweetheart.” I reassured her, which made her smile.

“I need to take a piss first, so get out.” I told her, she quickly left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Vanitys POV

I waited outside the hallway for Mick, peering over my shoulder & looking around the corner for any sign on him. I looked down, realizing I never did put my shirt back on from earlier. I need to find Tommy, I need some fucking blow.

Mick walked out of the bathroom, groaning as he held his back, “You okay?” I asked him and he nodded, “Just this god damn deterioration. I’m fine Vanity, don’t worry about me.” He said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as we made are way to the party. Everything was lively as expected, but the moment I stepped foot into the common areas people were looking at me, whispering amongst themselves and pointing.

“Van! Come do some lines with-holy fucking shit what happened!?!” Tommy’s attitude changed the moment he saw me. His hand gently cupped my cheek as he examined the bruising, “I’m fine, I need some blow or zombie dust, anything...please?” Tommy had a puzzled look on his face, more then usual, “Uh yeah...” he said reaching down, grabbing a tray that had three lines of white powder ready to go.

I took it from him, quickly snorting it all up, “What happened?” Tommy asked again, “Shut it.” Mick snapped at him, “We’ll discuss it later, after everyone is gone.” Mick added on, sitting down and taking a sip of vodka.

“Do you have more? I’ll buy it off of you.” I asked Tommy, he looked bewildered as he took a sack out of his pocket. I needed something to numb the pain, the physical pain and the emotional one.

“Vanny, just have it.” He said handing it to me, “Are you okay?” He added as I dumped the bag into a mountain of white powder, “Does it look like I’m fucking okay, T-bone?” I asked, not bothering to look up at him as I was cutting lines.

“Should I get Nikki? Or call Tonya and Lucia?” He asked, “NO!” I raised my voice, which startled him, “Don’t you fucking dare call them.” I warned him, he just nodded and took a sip of his drink.

“Hun, you’re gonna make yourself sick.” Mick commented on the lines I kept doing over and over and over again.

I looked up at him, the movement of my head made all the cocaine rush through my blood system. “No I’m not.” I argued back as Mick stretched his arm over, snatching the tray of drugs out of my lap, “Don’t start with me.” Mick retorted.

“This wouldn’t have fucking happened if you guys weren’t such assholes. If your fucking band member didn’t drive while fucked up, i wouldn’t have had to fucking ask the asshole for help. You sure act like the fucking responsible one, when you’re just as bad as them. Keep your fucking band in check, dude. Since you got it so figured out, why the fuck is Nikki an alcoholic? Why’s Vince in jail? Why’s Tommy fucking running around snorting everything in sight? Yeah, exactly. “ I berated Mick. All I got was a glare and a sigh in return.

“T, go get Sixx...now.” Mick ordered Tommy, “Don’t you fucking dare.” My eyes darted to T-bone, his eyes darting to Mick, “Now Tommy!” Mick shouted at him, “Oh you son of a bitch.” I said as I watched Tommy stand up from the couch, leaving to go find him.

I let out a bitter laugh, “Yeah, lets go get him! Great fucking idea, Mick! The fuck he’s gonna do? Try to fuck me? Good job! Cause that’s all he ever does for me!” I shouted, sarcasm dripping from my lips.

Mick sent a glare my way, rolling his eyes and taking a swig out of the vodka bottle.

I watched Tommy hobble back to us, basically having to hold Nikki up. Jeez, he was that fucked up already?

Tommy put Nikki on the couch next to me, “Oh fuck!” Nikki said, looking at my face, and for some reason he busted out laughing. “I knew you were feisty but damn you got your ass kicked!” His laughs echoed through my head as he grabbed my face, making me wince in pain. “Don’t touch me.” I told him, pushing his hands off of me, “Whatever.” Nikki replied, with a roll of his eyes before leaning into the couch.

“Please tell me who did this? Was it another chick? If so we gotta get you some lessons.” Tommy joked, trying to put a smile on my face. “You really believe I would let a girl do this to me? C’mon, T-Bone.” I told him as he cocked his head to the side.

“Did Uh...Sixx...” He was stammering over his words, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “No, god no, Nikki didn’t do this.” I turned my head to look at him, but he was passed out on the couch.

“Um..it was Julian.” I spoke quietly, barely audible. Tommy’s expression left his face, “What? What do you mean Julian did this?” Tommy asked frantically.

“He was extremely abusive to me when we were together, so I’m really not surprised he did it here too.” Tommy stood up so fast he almost knocked a bottle of booze off the table,

“Where the fuck is he?” Tommy was pissed, and I’ve never seen him mad. “No, no you can’t! He’s still Vince’s lawyer!” I told him, “Sit down you fucking teenager.” Mick ordered him, “Fuck you Mick! How can you be so calm and how can nikki be fucking sleeping!” Tommy yelled, kicking Nikki’s leg which woke him up,

“Dude! Are you fucking kidding me!? Your fucking girl just got beat by her ex-fiancé, and you’re just fucking laying here! You are the worlds biggest insensitive prick!” Tommy yelled at him, Nikki still not understanding what the hell is going on.

“Not my girl, not my problem.” That was all he said, I stared at him as he leaned back into the couch. How could he even say that as I was in his presence?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian putting on his suit blazer and trying to leave. “Oh there’s that jackass, Hey Julian!” Tommy yelled, I quickly followed him as Tommy went after him.

“Tommy...T-bone!” I yelled grabbing his hand but he swatted my hand away.

“Oh what’s up, Tommy! Oh Van, what happened!” Julian responded a smirk on his face, but then Tommy shoved his shoulders.

“You think it’s fucking cool to hit a chick you stupid motherfucker! Huh! Do you!” Tommy yelled, shoving him again.

“Hey man, I didn’t do shit to her!” Julian yelled, shoving Tommy against the wall of the corridor by the front door.

“God you’re a fucking lawyer, how stupid are you! She just told me everything!!” Tommy said, shoving him back away from him.

“Oh, you dumb cunt. You could never keep your mouth shut!” Julian yelled as he approached me, but Tommy swiftly decked him in the jaw, making him stumble to the ground.

“Watch who the fuck you’re talking to, man! You don’t speak to her like that! You wanna beat on someone, do it to someone your own size!” Tommy yelled as he got on top of him, continuing to give him massive blows to the face.

Security quickly intervened and pulled Tommy off of him, “Fuck you man! Get him out of here!” Tommy shouted, spitting in Julian’s direction.

“I just saved your Bands career, and this is how you repay me!?” Julian yelled back, wiping blood from his nose as security held onto him as well.

“Get him out of here! Now! I don’t want to see his fucking face!” Tommy yelled, security listened and dragged him out the front door.

“What’s going on?” I spun around, punching Nikki in the jaw, he looked mortified almost as if I just sobered him up, “Van!! what the fuck!” He yelled, covering his mouth and wincing in pain.

“That’s for believing him, you asshole!” I shouted at him, Tommy stood on the side of us ready to grab me if I punched him again.

Nikki studied my face, studying the bruises on my face, and if it could’ve been real, you would have seen the lightbulb above his head clicked on.

“Julian did this?!” He yelled, quickly trying to go out the door but Tommy stopped him, “No, you’re not getting involved, she’s been through enough.” I heard Tommy tell him. Nikki quickly came back to me.

“I’m so sorry, I just I...he was so believable...Vanity, he did this to you?” Nikki couldn’t comprehend, as his thumb gently brushed against the black and blue discoloration around my eye.

“And you thought it was a fucking joke. You fucking laughed.” I said, moving away from him, “Doll...” Nikki trailed off as he closed the gap between us again.

He placed his hand on my hip, “Baby...please, I’m sorry.” He had a sultry tone to his voice, the tone he knew that drove me crazy as he would usually use it as I was naked underneath him.

“Let’s get you home.” Tommy intervened, knowing I would buy into Nikki’s antics. I looked up at Tommy, nodding in agreement.

The tall drummer wrapped his hand around my shoulder, walking me out the door. I turned my head to the side only to see that Nikki was already gone.

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

You Don’t Own Me...

Pairing: Erik Killmonger x Wakandan! Reader

Summary: After your own family was recently murdered by Klaue, you’re taken in by the royals and begin to live in the palace, making you close friends to T’Challa and Shuri. Erik is a guest in the palace as well, after making amends with T’Challa, ultimately saving his life, but the man decides to make yours considerably harder, teasing and messing with you all hours of the day with the occasional passing flirtation. So when you catch him training in the private gym set aside for sparring and sit down to braid his hair for him, T’Challa’s wedding to Nakia that same night, where Erik can’t keep his hands to himself, and an elevator you both get into alone, things take a delightful turn.

A/N: so my baby is not dead cause he is way too pretty to die, and I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile because he’s beautiful and just *sighs* we love him (I’ve been sick and I watched Black Panther twice in that small span of time it was magical), I hope you enjoy it I loved writing it cause damn that stare tho I adore your feedback btw!! (it’s so long wow) I asked so you all shall receive! Here are a few that commented:

@cocoaflowerrs​ @harleycativy​ @honeytoffee​ @chaneajoyyy​ @mydemons-aremy-friends​ @thehomierobbstark​ @lifelover4u​ @wrtngnght​ @bitemyxxx​ @bakerstreethound​

Warnings: FLUFF, mild swearing, so many feels, sexual tension to the max, a punch is thrown, heavy kissing

The long, floral bridesmaid dress your best friend, Shuri, had made for you trails ethereally behind your figure, it’s simple and seductive, cinched at the waist before flowing outward. She made it to be practical as well as still being able to fight in it, slits down your toned, brown legs for you to walk easily without tripping over the long fabric. You step lightly through the palace halls in sandals, tied up to your calf, smiling to the guards when you pass by them. You find the lab where your sister and brother are arguing, T’Challa groaning loudly in frustration when Shuri points at his toes rather aggressively.

“I might be a troublemaker, but at least I moisturize my skin!” she gestures to his arm, pulling up his sleeve. “So damn ashy, brother!”

He swats her hand away, “I am a king, forgive me if I don’t have time for a personal spa day-”

“How are you expected to take care of a kingdom when you can’t even take care of your skin?” Shuri says, unable to get it all out through the giggles, pointing to his ankles.

“Oh, you wish to go there?”

“What are we yelling about?” you ask, tilting your head curiously when both of their attentions whip towards you. “You didn’t do what I think you did, Shuri...” you warn, giving your best friend a knowing glance.

She stifles a laugh when she holds up her tablet, “Oh... but I did.”

She presses play to the video of that faithful incident of T’Challa being thrown across the room after testing out his new suit’s kinetic energy distribution. That happened months ago and around the time you first arrived here, but it never fails to bring a grin to light up your face, you bite down on your bottom lip to hold in the fit of giggles threatening to surface.

“She showed it to Nakia!” he throws his hands up in aggravation and glares at Shuri. “I am never going to live this down, you know that? That video will haunt me until the day I join the ancestors.”

“Well... I hope your fiance found it as amusing as we do,” your lips quirk in the corners, moving to leave the room. “Hopefully as Queen, her sense of humor can help improve your own.” Your frustrated friend glowers at you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” T’Challa looks you over, giving you the parental stare he learned from his mother. “The wedding is in only a few hours. You have things to do.”

You furrow your brow, “I’m not the one getting married, bridezilla, all I have to do is show up.”

“You’re the maid of honor. There is more to your role than just showing up. You know how important this is to me, y/n, and to Nakia,” he pleads with his forehead wrinkled in that worrisome way, guilt-tripping you into complying. You roll your eyes with a sigh.

“I’m just going to go to the training room, it’s the only time I get a moment to myself, I won’t be long,” you tell him softly. “Does that please you enough, your Highness?” you mock, hand curled around the doorway.

“Fine, but Erik is in there already,” he warns. “I wouldn’t bother him.”

“You offend me, T’Challa,” you scoff. “He talks a big game, but the boy is harmless.”

“She only says that because she wants to have his kids,” Shuri smirks. “Oh, Erik! Take me now,” she presses the back of her hand against her forehead, tilting her head back dramatically. “You love him like those women in the American soap operas, like Rosy and Julio!”

“You mean Romeo and Juliet?” you correct with a small smile, despite the burning of your cheeks at the thought of Erik in that way. She wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever,” she waves you off. “Just use contraceptives...”

“Shuri!” T’Challa scolds while you make your swift exit, laughing at your best friend’s odd, theatrical antics.

You walk down to the training room, Erik’s strenuous grunts echoing off the gym’s walls, the sound of cloth wrapped flesh slamming into a punching bag. You enter the room quietly and watch as he moves graceful, animalistic, he holds power in his hands and demands the attention of the room without having to ask. His shirt is off, great, and you can’t concentrate on where to look, at the low hanging, deep gray sweatpants, barely clinging to his defined hips or his muscular, Greek god like torso and chest, littered with small marks and scars. His black dreads were out because he didn’t bother to tie them up, knowing they would have slipped out anyway, hanging over his predatory eyes.

He hears sudden movement behind him, looking you in the eye when he catches you in the room with him. He was bred as a soldier to hear small noises, to notice everything, and to keep his emotions in check at all times, to keep a neutral expression in the face of an enemy. But you aren’t an enemy. So he cracks a half smile, unwrapping the white cloth from his calloused hands. His eyes wash over your figure in that dress and he holds back a growl, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

He hums lowly, drinking you in, “You look damn good, princess.”

“Always the charmer, Erik,” you roll your eyes, afraid you’ve pulled something from how far they went back. Your eyes trail over him and he sees it, holding your gaze.

“Hey, sweetheart... I’m not the one that wants to have my kids,” he smirks, amusement glinting in his brown eyes. Shit. “But with you as the momma, you know they’d be beautiful.” You grow flustered at the compliment.

“You heard that?” you blow out a cool breath of air, wetting your lips anxiously. He watches the action with an unreadable expression, flashing that stupid and damned, attractive smile, rows of perfect, ivory teeth, the few gold ones glinting in the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows.

“Yeah... and Shuri, for someone as wicked smart as her, doesn’t know shit about American television. Romeo and Juliet was Shakespeare, not a soap opera,” he chuckles deeply, the masculine melody rumbling from his chest.

“The only reason I know anything about it is from sneaking into the father’s library at night, but that was a long time ago...” you tuck a curl behind your ear at the bittersweet memory of your family and he continues to listen without interrupting because he could relate to your struggle. “Shuri tells me that she finds it predictable and far too boring for her taste, she enjoys nonfiction and scientific journals, but I thought American books were... cute. Something about predictability in romantic literature is comforting.”

“So, you’re a romantic?” he arches a dark eyebrow, intrigued. “You should try reading Fifty Shades...” he teases.

“Nice try, but I’ve already read it,” you surprise him. “It lacked chemistry and tension. But the sex was... interesting,” you let out a fluttering laugh, the innocence in your voice rivaling the way you look over him.

“Let me know if you want someone to act it out with, gorgeous,” he crosses the room, eyes fixed on you, before he takes your chin between his fingers, knocking your jaw up. He unconsciously snarls his canines when he studies you. It’s got to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, that sounds fun, you think M’Baku would be interested?” you pinch your brow, messing with him, challenging his stare with a daring one of your own.

“Don’t play with me, princess,” he shakes his head, husked voice dripping with warning.

You look at his sweat ridden, umber skin, his dreads going every which way. You reach out and take one between your fingers, brushing it out of his face while he analyzes your movements.

“Your hair is a mess, N'Jadaka,” you tell him. No one ever calls him by that anymore, if they did he’d probably make them regret doing so, but not with you, he wants you to say it again.

He licks his plump, pink tinged lips, “You gotta solution, beautiful?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, smart ass,” you slit your eyes, rolling your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time today. “Sit down.”

“Yes m’am,” he smirks, doing as you say, sitting cross legged on the sparring mat below you both. You get on your knees behind him and take his individual dreads in your grasp, parting them into four sections at the top of his head.

He winces when you pull harshly, “If you fuck up my hair, princess-”

“You’re not going to do anything. Your precious hair will be fine, I’m fixing it,” you explain, loosening your grip slightly, gentle when you take three pieces at a time and braid it down his head to where it naturally ends.

“You’re hot when your bossy,” he muses and you tug at his hair in retaliation, earning a pained groan from him. “Watch it,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I’m the one with the power here, baby,” you tell the man child, wiping sweat from your brow at the concentration. “You need to be watching it.”

You guide him to lay his head in your lap as you sit down completely, halfway done now. He looks up at your face while you’re focusing intently on doing his braids, watching the way you bite your bottom lip, eyes set on the task in front of you, and nose scrunched in the most adorable way possible. He could look at you all day, he thinks, just like this. His taut back against your thick thighs wasn’t helping anyone either, feeling the ridges of his muscles and scar incisions on your bare skin through the sheer dress. He takes the bold risk of running his hand up your leg while he lays there, the sinful idea of you clenching around his fingers flashing in his mind, his warm, heated touch on your silk skin overpowering your good sense to stay away from him and his trouble. Your breath catches.

“Go any further, Killmonger, and I rip out a dread.”

He exhales a small laugh, putting his hands up in surrender when you get to the last step, almost finished, tying them all off with rubber bands he has, luckily, in his pockets. Thank God, you think, you didn’t know how much more of this you could take.

“Easy, momma... I was only playing,” he winks up from where he lays in front of you. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it. I know when you’re lying to me.”

You roll your eyes, but this time it’s paired with a small curl of your lips, tapping his broad shoulder, signalling for him to get off of you. “I’m done, you big baby.”

He grunts when he stands up and checks himself out in the mirror before him, hand gliding over his done hair, and he grins, dimples on display. It’s one of his rare, genuine smiles that only grace the outside world when your presence is known, mostly a result of something you do or say. Not that you know that.

“You did good, princess,” he looks at you, impressed. “I’m coming back to you again, get ready.”

“I’ll have to charge you the next time,” you fold your arms over your chest. “This was just a free trial.”

He chuckles darkly, cocking his head to the side, “What do you want in return?”

You. It almost slips from your lips, but you catch yourself just in time when there’s a knock by the doorway. T’Challa.

“T’Challa...” you throw him a look over your shoulder. “Don’t you have things to do?”

He looks between you and a shirtless Erik, his eyes widening slightly at the possibilities of what you two could have been doing, “I took a break, you were taking longer than you said you would.”

“I didn’t give you a set time,” you slit your eyes.

“You implied that it wouldn’t be long, you’ve been gone for more than thirty minutes.” He finally notices Erik’s new hair and compliments him, “Your hair looks nice, Erik.”

“You can thank your little friend for that,” he nods in your direction, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than he thinks he should before your gazes break.

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” T’Challa looks amused when he smiles at you, interested. “Playing hairdresser with a half naked Erik?” Erik is enjoying this more than he should.

“If I go with you to go help Nakia get ready, will you get off my back?” you ask, walking past him.

“Not entirely, but that’s a start,” T’Challa laughs, looking at Erik one more time. “Put on some clothes, Erik, you’re my best man, you need to get ready.”

“I thought white boy was going to walk with you?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Everett will too,” he rolls his eyes, waving him off. “He’s oddly excited about all of this.”

“The whole nation is excited, T’Challa, it’s not like your feelings for her have been a secret, my friend,” you gesture for him to come on already. “So hurry up or I’ll get Shuri to show Erik the video, too.”

“You wouldn’t,” T’Challa walks out after you.

“Wouldn’t I?” you dare your brother with a small, conniving smile.

“What video?” Erik calls after you.

You peek your head back in through the door frame and mouth, Later, eyes glittering mischievously.

~~~

The traditional, Wakandan, wedding ballad began to play elegantly and you look over at your nervous, best friend, adjusting his blazer. He catches your worried gaze and you smile softly, calming him. He reaches for your hand and you take it in your grasp, raising your hand to hold the side of his face. It makes you so unbelievably happy, seeing him marry the love of his life, an occasion you and dozens of other people have been awaiting. He squeezes your hand affectionately before dropping it, letting you return back to your place. The silent affirmation meaning the world to him.

You look over at Erik, his hand resting on T’Challa’s shoulder in a brotherly fashion. You glance over his black and white tux, it’s unlike him, being so dressed up, but it’s a good look for him. Really good, you think. It flatters his broad shoulders and muscular build nicely, and he grabs your stare in mid-air, smiling slightly. He shoots you a wink when no one else is looking and you look down at your flowers, hiding your burning face.

Shuri stands by your side, head leaning on your shoulder as she gets bored of the festivities.

“Glory to Bast, y/n, stop drooling over Erik... I’m going to be sick,” Shuri yawns. “How much longer will this be?”

You roll your eyes, “It hasn’t even begun,” you whisper as everyone sits up in the aisles, set up voluntarily by the villagers and children, and Shuri herself, of course.

The aisles were riddled with stargazer lilies, Nakia’s favorite flower, placed intricately and their vines wrapped, worn into the redwood. The ceremony is set in the room with the garden of the heart shaped herb, glowing luminescent and bright purple.

The ring bearers are the first to walk in, a few of the village boys and girls, some tossing pink rose petals on the ground, the rest fighting to hold onto the pillow where the rings rest atop. The guests laugh at the children, Erik walks down to kneel to their level with an adorably wide smile, making silly faces to make them giggle. Your heart warms at the sight. One of the little girls hands him the rings, along with a flower she places tenderly behind his ear, he mutters a small, sweet thank you, almost blushing. T’Challa even cracks a smile, tears beginning to brim his eyes, at the cute exchange. You find yourself doing the same.

Nakia finally steps out of the small entrance, everyone rising from their seats, her mother and father on either side of her. T’Challa freezes on sight when he sees her, Okoye, Shuri, and you notice this with moved smiles, all close to tears yourself. Nakia wears a long, emerald dress, breaking the white gown stereotype, she wanted to be different, she told you. And she looks stunning, gold detailing sewn into the green fabric, off the shoulder and draping behind her, her deep, sienna skin glowing gorgeously amidst the moonlight and green in her dress. T’Challa’s tears, once at bay, come rolling down his cheeks, his chest rising and falling.

He mutters a small I love you to her when she joins him on the stage and she smiles widely, beautifully, whispering that she loves him too. Her hand holds the side of his tear stricken face and she wipes one off his cheek with the pad of her thumbs, leaning forward to angel kiss both his eyelids.

“Hey! No kissing yet!” Shuri interrupts the tender moment, T’Challa glaring daggers at her while Nakia only chuckles, giving the people a good laugh, including yourself and Okoye, all wearing matching dresses.

The ceremony goes on as smoothly and emotionally as planned. Mid-vows, there are hot tears falling down your face, but you wipe them away, not wanting to take the attention from them. Erik, however, saw the action before you could hide it all the way, locking eyes with you from across the room, both of you opposite to each other with the loving couple between you.

His lips quirk, You alright?

You nod, smiling softly, and he returns it, his hard features softening when you look at him long enough.

You look beautiful.

You don’t know how you catch the silent words leaving his mouth, but you do, growing flustered immediately and smiling so wide it makes your cheeks hurt. You wish you could see this side of Erik more often, the sensitive, sweet one, the Erik that isn’t afraid to show how he feels.

But, before you know it, the officiant says, “Now you may kiss the bride!”

Nakia takes by the front of his blazer before he can think, bringing his lips to hers with fervor and passion. He cradles her face in his hands and dips her down as the crowd rejoices, Shuri making a show of showing blatant disgust. You slap her shoulder, laughing with one another when Okoye reprimands you both.

T’Challa and Nakia walk hand in hand down the aisle, everyone following them back to the palace for the reception with dancing, music, food, and drinks. You clutch the bouquet of lilies in your grasp, slowing your pace when Erik moves to walk by your side, stepping in time with you.

“That was so sweet,” you look at him as you both walk, glancing at the flower still behind his ear. “What you did with those kids...”

“What? The flower’s nice... and I didn’t want to say no,” he plays it off. “That’s all.”

“Mmhm,” you look down when you walk, smiling at the ground, unconvinced. “You know it’s okay to be nice every once in awhile, even you could spare to show your softer side, Erik Killmonger.” He regards you coldly, but your words have a way of melting that icy exterior of his.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes, still trying to keep the tough guy act but you see right through it when he looks at you from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips when you two arrive at the palace’s reception.

“Hold up,” he says to you and you stop, turning to him. He takes the flower out from behind his ear and places it gingerly behind yours, your curls keeping it in place. His fingers brush the skin of your cheek when he does so and your eyes lock, pulling back before he clears his throat. “It looks better on you, anyway, princess.” You smile softly, his touch lighting your skin on fire.

T’Challa and Nakia have already begun their first dance as a married couple, swaying her around the makeshift dance floor like a leaf in the Wakandan spring wind, it’s hard to keep your eyes off of them. Okoye and Shuri stand off to the side, stuffing their faces with assortments of food being served. Then Nakia makes eyes at you and Erik when her and T’Challa begin to slow dance, you and him standing side by side like that, hands brushing ever so softly. She nods towards him, raising her eyebrows in a silent command for you two to get over it and dance together. You slit your eyes. Erik notices this small, wordless conversation and smirks softly, glancing at you.

After debating and looking at you for a moment or two, wondering what to say, he interrupts your mile a minute thoughts, holding out his hand, “Dance with me?” he asks, almost daring you to accept his invitation. How could you say no to that?

You look to his hand then to his eyes and back again, heart beating considerably faster, and you take his hand cautiously, “Sure...”

His calloused hand grasps yours, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t bite,” he says, pulling you onto the dance floor and into his hard chest, other hand on the curve of your back, lips curved maliciously by your ear when he whispers, “Unless you want me too.” You laugh at that.

You keep a distance, only an inch away from each other faces that seems to diminish whenever you share a breath of air, standing still in time when he twirls you.

“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” your voice is light, barely above a whisper when you speak, hoping to keep this little bubble you two have created.

“My pop,” he smiles, but it’s bittersweet, not quite hitting his eyes. “He said you’re never gonna get a lady if you don’t know how to dance with one. That and cooking is the way to a girl’s heart...”

“Your father sounds like a smart man,” you meet his sad eyes and they flicker slightly, like that flame in his stare he takes pride in slowly blowing out the longer you look, simmering his fear. You understood him, how it felt to lose your family like that, and he knew that.

“He was.”

“So are you,” you tell him, taking both of your arms and wrapping them around his neck, staggering the man for a moment before he in turns wraps his own around your waist, warmly bringing you closer. “When you want to be,” you joke.

His lips turn up in the corners, letting out a small laugh, "Thanks, gorgeous.”

You lay your head on his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent of clean sheets and spices, a smell you can only classify as Erik, and his breathing slows.

“You’re so tense...” you tell him, hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your palm when he wraps his large arms around you.

He chuckles darkly, catching your wrist in your hand when you begin to trail your fingers down his torso. “I think you know why.”

“I’m not sure I do,” you say, fingers threading together behind his head, brushing the skin of his neck. “Enlighten me.”

The lights in the palace room go off and the person manning the music decides to turn on the deep blue and purple flashing lights, everyone coupling up with close friends and lovers. Erik’s grip on your waist tightens when some of the men make eyes at you, about to ask for you to dance, but upon seeing his possessive, threatening gaze, they think better of it. A slower, more sensual song plays, after someone requested to play more American songs, the DJ of sorts happily obliging.

He leans down to whisper to you, “Do you still want to dance, beautiful?”

“Mm, do I have much of a choice?” you tilt your chin up, beginning to sway with the music that’s playing, his hands never leaving your waist while his dark eyes trail over your dips and curves.

Your bodies move languidly with one another in the dark, your hips dancing to their own accord, and your back curves in that delectable way Erik can’t get enough of, turning yourself around to move against where you need him most. His hands slide down to grip your sides, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do.

“You’re a damn tease, y/n,” he bites by your ear, the deep laugh that leaves him vibrating through your body when he presses up against you, forcing you to feel every inch of him. Enough to feel him grow hard against your backside, so you move back, curls moving with the smooth and sexy movements of your body, hands sliding down his front, and spinning yourself around, leaning close enough to him so your noses touch.

Your eyes make a show of flicking up to finally meet his, “Am I?”

But before he can answer, opening his mouth to retaliate, close enough that you could lean in if you wanted to, a stranger’s large hand falls to your waist, pulling you into someone. You turn around and see a man you don’t recognize, just some drunk looking for a good time that he wasn’t going to get from you.

“Mm, you must be the new girl here... You’re even more lovely in person,” the man whispers by your ear, alcohol heavy on his breath and sweat on his skin, a sickening combination. “Wanna go somewhere a little quieter?” His hands going lower the longer he speaks.

“No... thank you,” you say, struggling to get the words out, but he doesn’t budge. You try to move from his grasp then Erik is walking toward him, pulling you from his grasp and setting you aside.

“Is that how you treat a lady? Grabbing her from behind and thinking she’s yours to keep?” he gets face to face with him, looming over the stranger by a few inches, eyes blazing in the dark.

“Back off, boy, I know how to treat a woman just fine,” he slurs. “You’re just jealous that I made a move before you did... maybe she finally wants a real man-”

Erik starts seeing red and before you can stop him, he’s knocking his fist into the man’s face, sending him tumbling to the ground with a loud bang when he hits the floor.

Shuri is by your side at once after seeing what happened, sending guards over to take the man out, pulling him by the arms inconspicuously out the doors while everyone is occupied.

Shuri’s hand clasps on your arm to get your attention. Your best friend looks at you with worried eyes, “Are you alright? We’re escorting the man off the premises now, and he won’t be bothering anyone else... Because if he had stayed behind, you know my hands would have been-”

You nod with a small smile, comforting your close friend with a small squeeze to her hand, letting her know you’ll be fine, “I’m okay, Shuri.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “We’ll tell T’Challa another time, we don’t need to make a scene,” you tell her. “This is his big day and I don’t want to upset him.”

She nods in understanding, “And Erik?” she looks to the man, trying to keep his composure, thinking that she’ll reprimand him for using violence, but she moves to embrace him. He’s taken back for a second before patting her back awkwardly, wrapping one arm around her small frame. “Thank you for saving my best friend.”

“No.. uh, no problem,” he stammers out, not expecting the hug.

She turns to you. “Why don’t you take a walk... go get some space from everyone? T’Challa will understand.”

You nod, knowing that’s the best for you right now, the crowd getting more and more suffocating by the second.

“I’m coming with,” he insists. “You don’t need to be alone right now.”

“Erik,” you look at him, hoping to keep a serious expression. “I don’t need anyone with me, I’ll be okay, promise.” Shuri wiggles her eyebrows at you before walking off, leaving the two of you by yourselves once again. You’d get her back for that.

He looks you over, “This isn’t up for negotiation, princess.” He holds out his hand for you and you take it, hesitant, his large, calloused hand encompassing yours.

Then he’s walking through the crowd, pulling you gently along with him, navigating between the guests. He wastes no time in getting to the doors that lead back to the palace’s bedrooms, the royal, gold encrusted elevator awaiting on the bottom floor. He drops your hand and you immediately find yourself missing the warmth, walking alongside him to the elevator where the up button flashes bright yellow. He silently leads you into the elevator when the silver doors finally open, closing behind you two.

You stand with your back against the elevator wall, mirror behind you, with your hands gripping the metal bar behind you. “Thank you...” you say, your voice quieter than you intend it to be, a fluttering phrase that makes him turn around to look at you.

“I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” he tilts his head slightly, concern deeply embedded in his chocolate eyes, studying your face.

“Sure, but I could’ve handled it myself, too, you know,” you meet his eyes boldly and his lips quirk at the edges, taking a step towards you. “If you hadn’t have stepped in.”

He squares his shoulders, slitting his brown eyes, towering over you with a small laugh that brings out his dimples, “I’m sure you could have, beautiful.”

Your head hits the wall, and you realize neither of you has pressed the floor button, sitting still in this vacant space, just the two of you, “Then why’d you do it?”

He’s chest to chest with you now, hands on either side of your head, caging you in like a predator stalking prey, “Do what?”

“Hit him... let him get to you like that...”

“He put his hands on you, baby,” his chest rises and falls, the fire returning to his stormy, dark gaze, the new pet name he’s given you sending your heart into sudden turmoil, unreadable on your face. “I...” he struggles to get the words out. He sounds so vulnerable, almost emotional when he tries to speak, and it breaks your heart. “I couldn’t let him hurt you-”

Without thinking, you step up on the tips of your toes, leaning close enough to kiss him, but missing, lips pressing against the corner of his plump lips, just as soft as you imagined them to be. His face heats up under your lips even after you break away, locking eyes with him, noticing how his have become much darker, glazed over with lust, deep brown consumed in onyx.

His eyes fall over you hungrily, sneering his canines, flicking from your slightly parted lips to your eyes, finding desire in your y/e/c irises, “You shouldn’t have done that, princess...”

He tilts his head down, sending his lips to crash feverishly against your own, sending you into the elevator wall. Your eyes flutter close at the overwhelming sensation, Erik kissing you, you never thought you’d see the day. He kisses you slowly, completely, and wantonly, taking his time in moving his lips against yours. Damn, he’s wanted this for so long, you, him. His lips made for yours and yours made for his, bodies molded into one another. You move to grip those beautiful braids of hair, fingers in the dips and intricate patterns, making him groan, tugging him closer to you until you both are flushed together, not a single breath between you. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, gently biting when he catches it between his teeth, eliciting small mewls to fall from your lips, exciting him, a puddle melted into his large hands. You’ve become his for the taking.

His hands slide under your ass, lips never leaving yours, gripping your thick thighs forcefully through your sheer dress, and pulling you up to guide your legs around his built torso, pressing you further into the walls that hold you both. He nips at the soft, brown skin of your neck, marking your neck with his teeth and mouth, lightly circling the spot with his cooling tongue to ease the bite, and you revel in it, legs tightening around him. 

Your hands find either side of his face when you break away to catch your breath, leaning your forehead against his, his shallow breath fanning your face, lips brushing ever so softly, wishing to meet again.  

“Shit, baby...” he kisses the curve of jaw, burying his face in your shoulder with a soft laugh. “If I had known...”

“Known what?” you breathe a laugh, kissing both of his dimples, making his smile widen. 

He presses his lips by your ear and chuckles, “That you actually wanna have my kids...” Dammit, Shuri.

[pearlsartblog2019]

Monster Verse AU: Part Five

SPG  Monster Verse AU: Part Five 

Notes: Notes: Don’t own SPG… all of those lovelies belong to the bennetts and co. I just do strange things in stories with the characters for fun. 

Don’t own Sprocket  Or Dex they be long to the very awesome: https://spg-fanbot-cousins.tumblr.com/

Pearl is my own character and is used in this and several other stories. Time period note : This is the start of the part of the story which is set in modern times.. The year is about 2018-early 2019. Hope you like! Enjoy the show..

   Honestly.. The night had started out normal enough her new lil human Cousin Specter playing happily on his Pappa’s web. Somehow managing to not stick to the thing and spending time with her other Cousin Dex in his rolly polly wolf form. 

Nothing odd or sinister here at all.

But no.. she realized.. That wasn’t quite right. One of the quartet was missing. 

The batch of mischief makers that kept all the older members of the walter clan on their respective monstrous toes, Was nowhere to be found.  Indeed Sprocket realized she hadn't seen her younger sister in several days. SO either she was upset about something, or something else was wrong. 

She uncolied her long silver tail from its “arm chair” position and headed for the door. 

Both of her aunts were out in the hallway having a quiet conversation that she just barely caught the tail end of.

“No,” Aunt rabbit said, “he’s not seen her in days and Spine is worried to death.”

“So she’s hiding?” Aunt Upgrade asked, “did she and the other kids have a fight?”

Rabbit shook her head, “no the kids have been fine. Getting along great actually for a change. Spine think’s its something else.. Something worse. He’s afraid…”

“Of what?” Sprocket demanded of her two aunts, “What’s Dad afraid of and what’s it got to do with Pearl?”

The two older monster bots, A Kitsune and Succubus respectively got worried looks on their faces.

“Sprocket, honey, “ upgrade told her, “I think you might need to talk to your dad about it 

Kiddo. Something bad might be wrong with your sister. “

“What?” Sprocket demanded, “Wrong like how?” The lil naga snarled. 

“Wrong like she might be sick honey,” Her aunt continued, “Really sick you and yer dad need to find her as fast as you can."

Suddenly any good feelings were gone and the Naga girl turned and slithered away as fast as her tail could carry her. Away from the tv/ sitting room and in the direction of her little sister's room.

her baby sister Pearl was like their father. Truth is Sprocket was adopted, which is why a high level Vampire like the Spine had a naga child. But no differences had ever been made between the two lil girls. Pearl having been born after the dashing Vampire Lord saved the lil silver naga from the streets. 

Spine had gone away to help deal with a pack of monster hunters in the orient that were harassing some of his people. When the silver vampire lord had returned from the trip a year later.. it had been with his second daughter in his arms, and a heart broken by her mother having died. 

Now in their long lives the  younger daughter was starting to come of age and things were changing.. a lot.

Changes that The Spine had knew were coming but had not spoken to his older daughter about, because he hoped his own nature in Pearl would be enough to keep them from happening.  He honestly should have known, his lover's will and nature were as strong as his own. She changed them only for his love when she realized some of her ideas were wrong. Still, what she was couldn't be denied and now it was surfacing in Pearl, worrying Spine sick.

That is the shape his older daughter found him in as he hurried down the hall to get to Pearl's room.

"dad!!" sprocket called, "what's wrong!?"

Spine made a face, "your aunts have incredibly large mouths... you know that? I told them NOT to tell you."

The lil silver naga shrugged, "Nah they are evil geniuses .. they knew you'd need my help.. So what the hell is going on with pearl? Shes not been out of her room in three days."

Spine sighed, "I'll tell you everything but we need to get there as fast as possible. Maybe what i think happened has not. Maybe she's just in a bad mood. Let's make sure before we fly off the handle."

The pair of them got to the door of Pearl's room and knocked. Nothing for a full minute and a half. Usually the lil thing was prompt in her politeness and came right to the door. Tonight tho, and for several nights hence there had been nothing.

"Lets see if its locked," Sprocket told her father.

She tried the handle and the door swung inward on its hinges with no trouble whatsoever. The inside of the room was cold and dark and of her lil sis there was no sign.

"Is she even here?" Sprocket looked around, "Pearl doesn't hunt she usually gets hers from what you bring home for her right?"

Spine nodded and continued to look around.

"yes," he told her, "It was easier on her. She was a bit too young yet to learn how to hunt. Doing so without killing the human requires some skill and I didn't want her to have to deal with that. "

"Yah no i gots," Sprocket nodded and slid deeper into the room, "She's too sweet for that any how."

She peeped into the bed and found nothing. Stuck her head into the closet and again nothing.

"ok well if she's not hunting, and she's not out in the manor " She looked around, "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Spine told her worriedly, "Let me look at something."

He headed over to pearl's desk and found what he was looking for, a dorm size refrigerator. He cracked the door open and looked inside. Small containers of blood lined the inside of the cooling unit, it was almost full.

THAT made him stop. It was friday night. He always brought her blood back with him from his saturday night hunting expeditions. The cooling unit should have been almost empty by this point in the week. But he could see that it was still almost full.

"Oh no," He could feel the horror slide over his sliver face, "oh please no...."

"Dad..." Sprocket started.

She slightly backed away from Spine because she had never seen her father behave in such a manner. He looked utterly horrified, at himself. 

That was a look she never thought she'd see on her father's face. He had long ago reconciled his vampire lord status, vowing that even if he needed blood to live he'd never willingly kill someone to get it. Vowed to always be compassionate and gentle with the lil human females that Gave the Silver Lord what he and his precious daughter needed to live. 

now tho.. he looked completely disgusted with himself. 

Sprocket backed up more and her coils touched something that felt like solid ice. 

She twisted around to get a good look at what she had bumped into and screamed bloody murder. The cold thing she had touched was the limp, lifeless body of her lil sister.

"PEARL!!" the naga shrieked and dove for her lil sister, wrapping her warm tail around the ice like lil vampire. "Pearl! Pearl please wake up! Pearl!"

The other girl remained unconscious, not responding to her sister's tearful cries or shaking sobs.  all she could do was hold her sister tightly and rubbing the icy lil hand trying to get her to wake up.

"Dad!" Sprocket looked up, "Dad whats wrong with her! Why is she like this! Did someone come in here and hurt her!? What happened?"

The look on Spine's face told his older daughter that his heart was breaking for both her and her  younger sibling. Now the truth would come out and there wasn't one damned thing he could do to protect the two of them from it any more.

"I was afraid of this," He replied softly, " Here..." 

He removed two of the containers from the cooling unit and went over to his children.

"Can you hold her up for me Sprocket," He asked softly, "She needs blood, I have to see if I can get her to swallow this. I hope she's so out of it right now she won't realize what is going on."

"What? " The naga girl looked at her father as tho he had suddenly sprouted a second head but did as he asked and changed the way she was holding her sister. Propping her head up on her shoulder. 

Spine infinitely gentle as he sat down next to his little girls and opened one of the tops of the containers. 

"Come on lil one, " He told Pearl Softly, "You need to swallow this, even if you don't like it any more."

He held it up for her and she was out of it enough to operate on instinct and drink it. 

Sprocket held her sister until her father had gotten her to swallow both of the containers and then let the younger girl go from her coils as Spine carried his  younger daughter to her bed.

"What do you mean "She doesn't like it any more."? " Sprocket demanded, "She's a vampire. ... "

Spine sat pearl down on her pillows and pulled the blanket around her, "No sprocket.. She's not. "

"Say again, " The naga's eyes were now the size of silver dollars.

Spine sighed, "Pearl is a dhampir... A half breed. Her mother.....Was as human vampire hunter. "

spine got that look of utter self loathing on his face again and smoothed the hair off his younger daughters face, "And her mother's blood ... is finally starting to come out. "

[sylveonne]

“Do you trust me?” Varric/Cassandra for DWC? Cheers! :)

FINALLY FINISHED THIS ONE i had the idea but didn’t get a chance to actually write it til camp nano finished hehe

for @dadrunkwriting!!!

varric/cassandra, the 5th vignette is rated M for very mild smut, everything else is sfw tho!

The first time he yelled it, Cassandra was caught off guard.

“Do you trust me?” Varric had asked, his voice pitching above the clamor of demons that were congregating on the iced-over pond. The prisoner and apostate wove in arrhythmic patterns on the other side of the shore. Sloth demons swarmed the two for a brief moment before they were blasted back by one of their spells.

The Breach yawned overhead, sparking and spitting out even more evil spirits. Cassandra looked at her feet, at the ice that was thick but cracking from the heat of the fire magic that kept scalding the surface, and then back at the thickening flock of demons at the other end.

“No!” she called back, the disgust in her voice obvious as she kicked one of the creatures squarely in the chest to send it reeling backwards. She leapt back up onto the banks of the pond and used her shield to bash another of them. It dissolved with a shriek that made her skin crawl. “But do it anyways,” she growled loudly.

Varric laughed, far too sanguine for her liking, but scraped a bolt along a nearby boulder and loaded up Bianca with it as it began to spark. “Hold on to your breeches, Seeker!” He fired the bolt into the center of the pond.

And then there was chaos as the ice shattered and demons fell beneath the frigid waves.

The first time she yelled it, Varric was scared shitless. Not that he’d ever admit that, of course.

Red templars were overtaking the pathways, the walls, all the entry points. The way they glowed, eerie and vicious and unaware of themselves, set his teeth on edge. Everything about them was wrong. Blood dripped from his split lip and hit the ground as he shuddered.

“Do you trust me?” Cassandra asked. Her grip on his shoulder wasn’t tight the way it had been when she and Cullen had “escorted” him from Kirkwall to Haven, and her brown eyes were remarkably calm despite the utter insanity of the situation. There was an archdemon, for fuck’s sake.

He grunted as pain lanced down his leg. “Don’t really have a choice now, do I?” he said as he forced a smile. She rolled her eyes with a huff, then heaved him to his feet. Varric wobbled, his ankle unable to support him properly, but the Seeker whirled and bent down with her back to him. He hobbled forward to lean against her. Cassandra heaved him up onto her back with a minute grunt of exertion and began to walk away.

“Hold it, hold it. I need Bianca. I can’t leave her behind,” he said, his hand tapping on her pauldron. From the way she stiffened, he knew the hysteria had crept into his voice. Even so, she turned back, fetched the crossbow, and passed it to him without a word. She then began to jog towards the chantry.

Varric looked out towards the siege equipment and tried to catch a glimpse of the Herald. His heart sunk when he couldn’t find a trace of any of his allies amidst the pandemonium. He turned back to watch their progress through the rubble. Her steps were measured; he realized she was trying to keep from jostling him too much. He forced his breaths to slow. Happy thoughts. “Thanks, Cassandra,” he said at last.

“You are welcome,” she replied. The doors to the chantry swung open to admit them into the halls.

The second time he asked, Cassandra fumbled for a response.

Sera had insisted on sharing a tent with the Inquisitor. That left the remaining tent to herself...and Varric. She was quiet as they set up their quarters. The routine came easy: canvas, stakes, bedrolls, her belongings, and then time to sit around the campfire. Nervous energy hummed beneath her skin that she was too fatigued to fight. Varric recounted stories to Sera as the Inquisitor secured the perimeter of camp. Sera went out to hunt and returned as dusk fell; they ate as the moon rose. Soon after they had all finished, the Inquisitor shooed them off to bed to take the first watch.

Cassandra’s boots felt like they had been laced with iron (more iron, anyway) as they approached their shared tent. Varric held the flap open for her to enter, then let it fall closed once he had followed suit. She sat on her bedroll to begin the process of removing her armor. Her eyes kept flitting back to the dwarf despite her best efforts. When it came time to remove her breastplate, her fingers lingered on the straps over her shoulders. Varric glanced up from what he had scribbled in a small notebook when he noticed her lack of movement. “Don’t mind me, Seeker,” he said, his teasing gentle. “I’m not the kind of dwarf who enjoys roughing it up in a tent in the great outdoors.”

She grimaced and made a sound of revulsion. Of course he would joke about that sort of thing. Cassandra finished up in a hurry and then ducked into her bedroll. Varric took his time finishing what he had started writing, then slid inside his as well. Several minutes of tense silence between them passed, the only sounds the soft pops of the low fire the Inquisitor tended outside and the chirps of crickets. Just when she thought she would finally snap and do...something drastic to ease the awkwardness, Varric rolled to his side so he could face her.

“Cassandra.”

She started, both from his voice and that he used her name. She turned her head to meet his eyes a mere foot away. “Yes?”

He paused as if he was considering his words, then asked, “Do you trust me?”

Despite being in a small tent, she felt his words echo around them. She was frozen as their mutual gaze held, unable to answer affirmatively one way or the other. When she didn’t respond, Varric’s lips crept up into a tiny, sad smile. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, his voice soft. Cassandra finally came back to herself and made a noncommittal noise in response. He huffed a hoarse chuckle and then rolled to face the other side of the tent. “Goodnight, Seeker.”

She stared up at the canvas ceiling for a long time after that.

The second time she asked, Varric wasn’t sure what to think.

Wine flowed in a ceaseless river at the event Josephine insisted they be present for. Cassandra didn’t usually drink in excess, but the Inquisitor had plied her with drinks in an attempt to help her loosen up. Cullen had also fallen prey to this tactic and was passed out in an alcove off the main hall; Sera had already doodled on him, and Blackwall stood watch over the commander’s unconscious form. Those with the proper social graces, like Vivienne and Dorian, made use of them alongside the Inquisitor. While he possessed the skills to mingle, Varric opted to keep a low profile and avoid any potential Merchant’s Guild members, which was how he wound up in a garden to begin with.

Cassandra let out a wistful sigh from where she sat on an elaborately carved bench-- clearly, she was daydreaming. Overhead, rose bushes bloomed in tamed arches, and small lights, most likely magical in origin, floated amongst the thorns. Varric sat beside her and watched the orbs bob. The buzz of those playing Orlais’s Game seemed distant at that moment.

“Varric, do you trust me?”

He immediately swiveled to look at her. After he took a moment to gauge her features, he smirked and patted her arm. “More or less. I still sometimes wonder if you’re going to snap one day and throw me in a cell, but that seems pretty standard...for...us…” he trailed off as her expression melted into one of distress.

“I just thought...after all these months traveling together…” she mumbled, her cheeks flushed from both the copious alcohol and drunken embarrassment. Her eyes lowered to her lap.

Varric scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Seeker...c’mon, you’re drunk. We can have this conversation tomorrow if you remember any of it.” She looked back at him again, her lips still set in a sad pout, and he looked up at the roses again awkwardly. In the blink of an eye, Cassandra slouched over and rested her head on his shoulder. He paused for a beat, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Andraste’s knickers, I didn’t realize you were a cuddly drunk,” he teased, but she just grumbled.

The Inquisitor came to check on them as the soiree wound down. Cassandra’s head was pillowed in Varric’s lap as he sipped leisurely at his own glass of wine. When their eyes met, Varric smiled and held a finger up to his lips.

The third time he asked, Cassandra could only nod mutely.

She had discovered that his quarters were far more lush than her own spartan room at Skyhold over several visits. As always, books had been stacked in a haphazard fashion throughout and a thick fur was spread across his bed. Her fingers burrowed into the soft throw as she watched with bated breath as Varric knelt between her bare legs. His hands brushed the tops of her thighs in a gentle reassurance, and she couldn’t stop the quiver the touch elicited. He chuckled and cupped her hips, then let his thumbs rub against the curve of bone and muscle. His head dropped to press kisses to her stomach. Before he proceeded any lower, he met her eyes and asked, voice soft and low, “Do you trust me?”

The ache she felt was becoming unbearable and clear thoughts had long since left her head. Even so, she managed an enthusiastic nod. Yes, she trusted him, and yes, she wanted this. Varric’s gusty sigh of relief made her wriggle beneath him. “Maker, Cass,” he muttered, and then his mouth was on her and his ever-too-clever tongue made her cheeks burn. She gasped and turned her face to the side and bit one of the pillows, but Varric immediately stopped. “I want-- no, I need to hear you. I need to make sure I’m making you feel as good as possible.” Cassandra could only blink in silence at the glisten on his chin. He huffed a laugh and returned to her folds.

This time, she wasn’t quiet.

The third time she asked, Varric just laughed.

She stretched beneath the blankets, her satisfaction as blatant as a purring cat. She blinked the drowsiness from her eyes, cheeks flushed from sleep, and hummed to get his attention. He finished his sentence with one last scritch of his quill, and he turned to face her. “Good morning,” he said, and he watched as she propped her chin up on her palm. His eyes were briefly drawn to her newly-bared skin, but he was far more fascinated by the content smile she wore. Varric stood up from his desk and returned to his bed. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes before cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Good morning, Varric,” Cassandra returned, and her fingers reached out to skim his bare chest. His tunic had been thrown somewhere the night before and he had been too lazy to search for it-- or dress himself in anything other than his breeches, for that matter. She tilted her chin up in silent invitation, and he leant down and met her waiting lips. His kisses soon trailed down to her jaw and cheek, and she laughed softly and swatted at him in jest. After a few quiet moments of relaxed silence, she asked, “Do you trust me?” Varric raised a brow and waited for the other shoe to drop. “Because if you do...can’t you show me what you’ve done with the new installation so far?”

He let out a full, hearty laugh that shook his shoulders. “For you, Seeker? Anything.”

[vanderlinde-moved]

a bitter truth (part one)

this is an angstier version of a post-scarif fix-it verse, much more than this series. don’t worry tho, there will be some good rebelcaptain action. 👌 hope you enjoy!

read it on ao3!

It should have happened like this:

Jyn faces off with Krennic, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. She tells him that she is Galen and Lyra’s daughter, that she is the one who’s going to transmit the plans to his precious Death Star to the Rebellion.

He tells her that she’s lost.

It should have happened like this:

Just as Krennic moves to shoot her and Jyn gets ready to charge, Krennic falls at her feet with a hole in his chest. And there stands Cassian, against all the odds, with a smoking blaster in his hands.

In that moment, Jyn thinks he’s the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

It should have happened like this:

Together, they transmit the plans. Together, they limp off the data tower and into the elevator. Cassian asks her if she thinks anyone’s listening and she replies yes, someone has to be. She refuses to think that this whole suicide mission has been in vain.

They fall on the beach together, embracing for the first and last time. She holds Cassian as tightly as she’s able to and he does the same, taking comfort in human contact. Maybe in a different life, they could have been something other than partners.

The Death Star fires. She watches the wave of fire get closer and closer, and in this moment, she’s not afraid to die. When the blast hits them, it’s only a few seconds of agony before they’re turned into stardust together.

In a better world, they die together on Scarif.

 Instead, it happens like this:

Cassian doesn’t come for her. He leaves her alone at the top of the data tower.

She hadn’t expected him to, but a small part of her had assumed he would. Especially after he did on Jedha and Eadu, and especially after he had rallied almost all of the members of Rogue One. The pain of his absence stings sharper than it should, but Jyn’s used to people abandoning her by now.

Maybe he’s given up on her. Maybe he’s run into some trouble and he’s on his way. Or maybe he’s dying alone at the bottom of the tower, unable to move and hoping that she’s able to finish the mission alone?

(does that mean she’s the last person left standing? that she’s killed everyone else on this little suicide mission of hers, all in the name of a rebellion she barely believes in?)

It doesn’t matter. She can’t afford to think about these things right now.Cassian isn’t here, but when she turns around to transmit the plans, the man in white is. He looks the same as he did all those years ago when he took her father and killed her mother right in front of her.

In this moment, all Jyn feels is rage. She doesn’t think about Cassian. Instead, she thinks about surviving, with her fists clenched and ready for a fight.

(in a better world, this would be different. cassian would be there with her. though is it really a better world if they all die at the end?

at least then they were together, even in death.)

Jyn charges him before Krennic even realizes she’s moving, but as she tackles him to the ground, red hot fire laces through her gut. While he hits the floor, she hits it harder, wheezing and wrapping an arm around her torso. Her hand comes away sticky with blood.

it hurts it hurts it hurts.

She tries to hoist herself up but fails, reaching up for the guard rails. Her bad leg, already hurt before coming up here, crumples beneath her. Krennic gets up before she can and aims the blaster at head. She freezes, eyes locked on his.

“My, my,” he tsks, giving her a once-over. His mouth twists in displeasure at the state she’s in, all broken and bloody. “I should have known that Lyra’s daughter would have so much fire.”

The plans, she thinks desperately, trying once again to get on her feet. But it’s so hard. Her insides feel as if they’re going to fall out but she needs to get up and she needs to transmit the plans to the Rebellion.

“Don’t even bother with that. You’ve lost, Miss Erso,” Krennic smiles, and she wishes she had enough strength to punch that smug look off of his face. “You’re coming with me. After all, we do need information about your little Rebellion and this is the perfect opportunity.”

Her stomach is on fire and there’s blood in her mouth and she can barely think straight, her vision darkening, but if there’s one thing that Jyn’s always been, it’s rebellious.

As a Star Destroyer appears in the corner of her tunneling vision, Krennic turns ever so slightly to watch its arrival. Jyn takes that moment of distraction to use all of her remaining strength and grab the small vibroblade she had shoved in her thigh holster during the flight. Saw had taught her that there’s no such thing as too many weapons.

When Krennic turns back to her, she lunges upward and stabs him in the thigh, digging the blade as deeply as she can.

It’s not enough to kill him, but she feels a grim satisfaction watching him curse in pain as blood trickles down her leg. She falls backward, suddenly exhausted and her head hits the floor with a dull thud. Her heart is pounding quickly enough that she thinks it might explode and the wound in her gut pulses in time with her heartbeat.

Even in the light of her small victory, she can’t find it in herself to feel anything except guilt. She’s failed. The plans haven’t been transmitted, Cassian and the rest of her crew is dead or dying, and she’s about to die at the same hands that killed her mother and father.

“You bitch!” Krennic snarls. He rips the blade out of his thigh and tosses to the side. Jyn watches it fall off the data tower until she can’t see it anymore. When she turns back, Krennic has one hand over the wound in his thigh and the other is pointing the blaster back at her head again. “You’ll pay for that.”

Jyn grins, teeth bloody. “Fuck. . .you,” she wheezes in a final act of defiance, before Krennic’s eyes darken and his blaster cracks across her forehead.

I’m sorry, Papa. We’ve lost and you’ve died for nothing. I failed you.

When the darkness comes to take her, Jyn Erso welcomes it with open arms.

 It should have happened like this:

Cassian climbs the data tower just in time to save Jyn from Krennic.

Instead, it goes like this:

Cassian lays gasping on the cold, metal ground. Every breath burns in his lungs and there’s a coppery taste in the back of his mouth. Hot blood leaks out of his shoulder where Krennic shot him and there’s something wrong with his back. His leg hurts too and he hopes that it’s nothing more than a sprain. He can’t afford it to be anything worse.

At this moment, lying at the bottom of the data tower and staring upwards, there’s nothing he wants to do more than just lay here and die.

But he needs to get to Jyn. He promised himself that he wouldn’t leave her behind. He promised himself that he wouldn’t abandon her like her mother or father or Saw had.

(he’s only known her for a week but jyn erso compels him in ways he never knew possible.)

He forces himself to a sitting position, crying out when something in his back shifts. When he coughs, blood stains his teeth and he knows that he doesn’t have much time left.

Get up. The mission isn’t over yet.

It feels like forever before he drags himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the data tower. His ribs ache with every movement and it’s a far way to climb, but he has to try. He can’t rest until he’s completed the mission, and as far as he knows, it’s not over yet.

He places his other hand on the archives and tries to pull himself up. This sudden movement jars his battered body so badly that he loses his grip and falls back to the ground with a stifled moan, unwelcome tears pooling in his eyes.

it hurts it hurts it hurts

“Come. . .on,” he grits out, forcing himself to his feet once again. He so badly wants to give up but he knows that he can’t. There’s more at stake here than what he wants. The Rebellion needs him. “Come on!”

Slowly, almost pitifully, Cassian climbs the data tower. At one point, he almost falls -- his hands are too slick with his blood and his head is spinning so fast that he thinks he’s going to pass out, but he digs his fingers into the handhold and rests his forehead against the tower, waiting for it to pass. When he gets the dizziness in check, he keeps going.

At this point, stopping isn’t even an option for him anymore.

When he pulls himself up to the top, barely conscious, Jyn is gone. She didn’t make it and it’s all his fault. If only he had been faster, if only he had shot Krennic before he had shot him --

Stop. The mission. He needs to focus on the mission. He can mourn Jyn later, if he survives all of this.

(by the way he’s feeling right now, the chance of that is slim.)

He stumbles to the console. Everything’s all set up for him -- all he has to do is pull the lever. She’s done everything else for him. Cassian laughs quietly, though sounds more like a wheeze. Leave it to Jyn to do all of the hard work. He lets his fingers rest on the lever before pulling it down as hard as he can.

Thank you, Jyn. I’m sorry.

When the screen lights up and the plans begin transmitting, he slides down the console to rest, sticking his bad leg out in front of him. His job is done now. The mission is over. Finally, he can sleep. He thinks that after all he’s done, he deserves a couple moments of peace.

Just as his head drifts forward and his vision darkens, hands start shaking his shoulders. Blearily, he tries to swat them away but finds that he can’t move his arms anymore. This would bother him if he didn’t feel so tired.

“Captain Andor! You need to stay awake!”

It’s done, he wants to tell whoever is shaking him, but he can’t seem to make his throat work properly. Let me rest. I’ve completed the mission. We did it. Please, just let me rest.

The last thing Cassian Andor feels before fading into unconsciousness is two arms pulling him upwards, and a sharp pain. Then -- nothing.

 Jyn wakes up bound to a chair.

She thinks that she must still be in the Star Destroyer because she can just barely hear the vibrations of the ship through the floor. She can’t see much in the room that she’s trapped in, but she knows that she still must be in the hands of the Empire. After all, it’s very unlikely that the Rebellion would tie her up after she tried to save their asses.

(but she doesn’t know. she’s not even a member of the alliance, not to mention that she took some of their best operatives and went rogue, killing all of them on what was supposed to be a win for the rebellion.)

The blaster wound on her stomach is hastily bandaged, but there’s blood leaking through the bacta patch. Her captors haven’t done anything for her leg, but she doesn’t think it’s anything worse than a sprained ankle. Her head is what worries her the most; she can feel dried blood crusted on her cheek and her forehead throbs in time with her heartbeat. Every so often, her vision goes dark and she has to swallow down a wave of nausea.

How the hell is she going to get out of here with a concussion?

Weakly, she tugs on the binders around her wrists. They’re notched one slot too small and are digging uncomfortably into her skin. To get out of this, she’s thinks she’s going to have to break her thumb and dislocate her shoulder, but the very thought of that makes her head spin.

The door to her dimly-lit cell opens before she can think too much about it. Light floods in, making her head explode in pain, and she has to close her eyes until the door shuts once more. When she looks up, Krennic stands in front of her, with two guards flanking him. There isn’t an IT-O droid with them and at that small mercy, Jyn lets out a small sigh of relief.

“You’re finally awake, I see,” Krennic says, taking a step closer to her. He doesn’t limp and there’s no sign of the wound on his leg -- she know that the Empire has more bacta than the Rebellion ever will. At least now that supply has been slightly depleted because of her actions. “I thought we might lose you. And we can’t have that, now can we? You’re the last surviving Erso.”

She says silent, appraising him the same way he’s looking her over. She takes note of the blaster strapped to his hip and the dark bags under his eyes. She doesn’t know how long she’s been out, but it doesn’t look like he’s slept since before Scarif.

Krennic doesn’t seem perturbed by her silence. In fact, he keeps talking. “You know, we’ve been trying to find you for years. You’re extremely good at hiding, Miss Erso. I’m sure you imagine my surprise when you revealed yourself on the data tower. Just where have you been all these years?”

“Hiding from you,” she spits, leaning forward to get as close to him as possible. Her wrists scream as she strains on the bindings. “What, did you think I would just come out and let you take me prisoner? You’re a lot dumber than I thought you were, Krennic.” A slow smile crosses his face at that. Jyn doesn’t like the look of it. “Maybe if you had, your father wouldn’t be dead right now. He died on Eadu. Did you know that, Miss Erso? Your precious Rebellion killed him with their bombs.”

The pain of her father’s loss hits her all over again, like a sharp knife driven right through her heart. She hasn’t had the time to properly mourn him since the battle on Eadu and she has to close her eyes to ward off the grief.

She failed him on Scarif.

“In fact, now that I think about it, I’ve knew you father better than you ever did,” he muses, jolting Jyn back out of her thoughts. “We met a long time ago. Shame you didn’t get to know Galen better. He really was a good man. Well -- at least, if you excuse the flaw he built into my machine.”

“What do you want?” Jyn snarls, sick of this idle conversation. She knows the answer to her question, but she doesn’t want to talk about her father with the man who took him away from her all of those years ago. He doesn’t deserve to have known him better than her. “What the hell do you want from me?”

Krennic doesn’t bat an eye at the change in conversation. “Information. You tell me what you know about the Rebellion and I’ll let you die quickly. If not, well.” He shrugs, then folds his hands in front of him. “I think you know what happens then.”

She does, in fact, know what happens. This isn't her first interrogation.

“Come on, then,” Jyn bares her teeth, slightly feral. Adrenaline courses through her veins. They both know she’s not going to talk. “Let’s see what the Empire’s got.”

Krennic returns her smile, though it’s full of malice. He motions to the two guards behind him to move forward. “Then let’s begin.”

 Cassian wakes to the sound of beeping.

His eyes fly open of their own accord and he’s met with the blurry sight of a pristine white ceiling and a woman sitting next to him.

It can’t be. It’s impossible. And yet --

“Jyn?”

“Captain Andor,” the woman replies and he blinks, trying to focus his vision. Her accent isn’t anything like Jyn’s crisp Coruscanti one. “It’s good to see that you’re finally awake.”

“Your highness,” he croaks, finally recognizing the figure in front of him. The last he heard, Leia had been on Alderaan with her parents. For some reason, she’s here, sitting at his bedside. Her outward appearance is immaculate, like always, but the dark circles under her eyes tell a different story. “What. . .?”

What happened?

Somehow, he’s back on Yavin 4. His hair is damp with what he assumes is bacta. While he’s still in a considerable amount of pain, it’s much less than it had been on Scarif. Someone must have rescued him and taken him back here.

“One of our pilots noticed you on top of the tower before the Death Star fired,” Leia twists her hands in her lap but keeps her chin up high. He can tell that something’s bothering her. “Do you remember anything else that happened on Scarif?”

He remembers too much. Losing K-2SO, falling off the data tower, transmitting the plans. And -- Jyn. The sting of both of their deaths is too strong for him to deal with right now, so he locks those memories away, pushes them to the very back of his mind.

But he doesn’t remember the Death Star firing. If Jyn had been alive on Scarif before that, then there’s no way in hell she survived the blast.

(he should have been the one to die. with everything he’s done, he knows that he deserves it.)

“The plans,” he rasps instead, sitting up as much as he’s able to and watching her face. He needs to know. “Did you get the plans?” Leia nods, and a small, sad smile crosses her face. She doesn’t look as happy as she should. “The Death Star was destroyed hours ago.”

At that, Cassian falls back and closes his eyes. They did it. They got the plans. All of those deaths -- Jyn’s death -- those hadn’t been in vain. But despite the relief that’s bubbling up in his chest, he can’t quite tamper down the guilt.

He’s the only survivor. He’s alone.

“We’re being to evacuate the base. You’ll be on one of the first transports out of here. Get some rest, Captain; you deserve it.”

As she leaves, he feels as if there’s something she isn’t telling him. But a medical droid is at his bedside and he’s feeling too tired now to call out to her and ask about it.

 The next time Krennic comes back to her cell, he brings an IT-O droid with him. This is when Jyn finds out that the Rebellion has destroyed the Death Star.

And even though the droid is injecting something in her neck that makes her blood feel as if it’s boiling and there’s a big part of her that wishes she died back on Scarif, she laughs. When he asks her where the rebels are going now and backhands her across the face, all Jyn can do is laugh.

They did it. Somehow, they did it.

[shadowingthemoonlight]

SNOW pt.3

summary: after the accident, you were told your memories would come back to you, but it had been 3 years and you still didn’t know who you really were. Bucky remembers you, you were one of the things he clearly remembered but when he approached you and the life that had once flourished in your eyes was gone, as with the memory of him, was it worth the risk of telling you?

Pairing: buckyxreader + the Avengers

cher=snow

снежинка=snowflake

italics=memories bold=thoughts/dreams

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, fluff, fear, blood

PART 2 PART 1

holding his breath whilst his eyes examined the brown paper folder which contents seemed far too dense, his pupils lingered upon the letters which settled top left of the cover.  his thumb traced the familiar name followed by the softening of eyes as the name its self-created warmth at such little contact. bucky knew that what lied beneath the cover of the folder, submerged in the pages would not only hold fragments of his haunted past but additionally hers, bringing uncertainty to the desire to open the folder completely. releasing his doubt through the exhale of his lungs, his fingertips found the paper clip which clung to the abundance of files and brought the item into the sunlight.  tied to the briefing of his former comrade was 2 images of (y/n) from a time before and after he had met her. in the first she looked so young and radiant, her skin glowed followed by a joyous smile. The right image, however, made Bucky’s nerves crawl as the ghostly eyes that looked into the lens were not only laced with light bruising but had lost all sense of life, followed by a vanished smile. two instructors stood beside her with hands snaked around her forearm holding her tightly in place with one being a woman, whose blond hair fell just above her shoulder and the other, unfamiliar. “Tony found it with all the other hard copies of the  Hydra information that he had gathered over the years, didn’t take him too long to dig back up as he knew where to look this time” Steve announced drawing Bucky attention away from the images, who responded with a confused look. “Natasha found one a while back about you” Steve reassured with a smile. “how long until we reach our destination?” Bucky questioned uneased at how the quinjet was flying. “ a couple more miles west, we’ll have to land quite a bit from the building as the area is used by the public, the surrounding forest will help cover us though.” steve stated whilst gesturing his hands over the screen that mapped out the area. While Steve continued to go over the mission bucky felt various emotions emerging from the files in his hands, which wasn’t practical when breaking into a modern Hydra base so he decided to not tread any deeper into them, and set the folder down without giving it another thought. “Do you think they have her?” gulped Bucky hearing the worry in his voice cut the air. “I can’t be sure buck, we’ve been monitoring this site for quite some time but it is suspicious that activity has picked up since you ran into her.” Bucky longed to see her again, that was certain, but prayed if she was somewhere in the building that she would be alive as the guilt began to set in that this could all be his fault.

harsh light clawed at your closed eyelids bringing awareness to the heaviness of your body and dazed mind. trying to raise your eyes was a challenge in its self-most mornings yet the disorientated state which you were in as you realised your body was seated up right, cause your eyelids to lurch open. bringing in your surrounds became difficult as the white walls reflected the harsh light provoking you to squint but in a few moments the light began to settle, and a new worry set in. regaining body strength you felt the grim pull of leather restraints embracing your thighs, shins, ankles and unsettling as it was, it wasn’t something which felt new. lowering your head the skin of your neck came in contact with an inhuman collar restraining you from much movement at all, and when you tried to bring your fingertips towards your throat, a severe pain plunged your wrists as the unknown cuffs tightened as you pulled cutting deeper into the already wounded flesh. 

“she’s awake” echoed a male voice followed by heels clicking across the stone ground, every step making the beat of your heart slightly increase. you felt the needle before you saw it, the warm hum of chemicals flooding the skin of your shoulder. “I see you like drugging people” snarling as the familiar face of the woman appeared in front of you, taunting the syringe as tho it was a trophy. “That wasn’t a drug sweety the first one was but this"looking at the small amount of liquid which was left “this is a cure! I’m only replacing what we once took from you” and with the turn of her heel, she strutted away with the sounds of her footsteps descending rocking you into another unwanted sleep.

looking down the scope of his rifle, Bucky mapped out the area, counting how many guards were surrounding the building while Steve used a device which scanned the building from afar and created a 3D hologram of the building, inside and out. “there’s 5 towards us, 2 parallel us and 1 sniper up top” Bucky confirmed into hîs head piece waiting for steves reply. “You take out the sniper and the two either side of us while ill deal with the others.” “yes cap.” 3 gun shots pierced the air, alerting the other 5 on the ground to brace themselves, and that’s what they tried to do but Steve and his shield were too quick, and their unconscious bodies littered the ground. The two men sprinted towards the double doors which now flung open as more troops tumbled out towards them, taking the bullets bucky fired and the shield in which Steve threw. “There are multiple holding cells underground, it’s likely that she could be down there” stated Steve.

a calming tune of a song entered your mind, filling you up with warmth and peace as the melody sounded so periodic.

oh my precious girl if you ever become afraid I’m with you in this necklace it will keep the monsters at bay

“keep it close to you (y/n) always keep it close” “yes mom”

you thrashed against your restraints as memory after memory flooded back with the anger acting as fuel, but only cutting and bruising yourself even more than you already were. the 3 vacant years of your life that were spent not knowing anything, we’re now starting to remember it all. you remembered what they took What they did and who he was. “you have some guests” spoke the woman who stood at the door with her hand resting upon the handle. “No, please no Adeline” you begged her as you recognized the look on her face. Adeline grasped the handle of the door, and escorted in were 4 figures, each face covered by a bag. “The car crash, it is such a common death” smirked Adeline and she wandered over towards you and crouched down undoing the leather around your ankles. “can you remember anything about it?” she asked while working her way up, undoing the cuffs around your wrists. staring blankly at her, she pulled you to your feet using the collar still clasped around your throat. you stood helplessly as two men aimed their guns at you and watched as she fished into her blouse pocket and revealed a silver chain wrapped around her fingers. “there never was a car crash (y/n)” Adeline slowly spoke drawing each word out and finishing the sentence by letting the chain sway in her hand. “Where did u get that?!” you stuttered while staring at the chain witch ended with a dainty snowflake. all Adeline did was laugh at your question and brought her attention to the 4 masked figures in the room. “you know what kind death isn’t as common these days?” she grimly put as she removed the first bag whilst remaining eye contact with you the entire time. “is the death, at the hands of their own daughter” stepping aside, the unmasked figure raised there head leaving you in complete shock, you knew what was about to happen and moments later a handgun played in your right hand. “Why don’t you raise the gun, and say hello to your mother” Adeline cackled while ripping the other 3 remaining bags revelling your father, younger sister and brother. “do i have to say the words cher?” Adeline mocked knowing you had no choice in the matter. You tore your eyes away from where your family stood, not wanting to see the faces that they possessed. “Look at your mother” she screamed with annoyance and as you followed her command a single tear rolled down your cheek. holding the pendant a final smile left Adelines face as she parted her lips to speak “снежинка.”

bucky heart raced as they inched closer and closer towards the last interrogation room. “Steve!” Bucky shouted “I just heard 2 gunshots from inside” They both sprinted towards the door and with another gunshot sounding from inside, they both break through the door. the horrors of the scene which they had just fallen into were all too familiar to Bucky. There stood Adeline whose gaze was fixed on (y/n), and there she stood without any will of her own, the look of death glistening in her eyes as she held her handgun with a finger wrapped around the trigger. 3 bodies already were bleeding out, two of which were no older than 12. “oh my precious girl if you ever become afraid I’m with you in this necklace it will keep the monsters at bay” the woman hummed who had the gun pointed towards her head.

“but if the necklace shall fall dont threat for I will always be in a place called your heart where my love for you thrives in harmony“sobbed (y/n) whose steady hand was now shaking.

“снежинка” the final shell from her handgun fell towards the ground and he watched her body became limp as the handgun cascaded down. her knees buckled beneath her own weight followed by the cries as she reached for the woman. “it’s ok mom, everything going to be ok” she whispered trying to stop the bleeding, but Bucky watched her face turn pale as she saw the other 3 bodies that had fallen at her hands. “what have i done.”

she wispiered raising her head towards him

“what have i done.”

[omgxiaoch]

Timeless Fate | GangAu!

Ship: Jooheon x [y/n]

Genre: action(?), angst(??),fluff (idk about this tho sorry)

Word Count: 4,553

a/n: hey guys! i apologize for any misspelled words or wrong grammar but i do hope that you guys enjoy reading this! it might be kinda meh so… yeah.. sorry about that. anyways, credits to the owner for this gif!

masterlist

part 1

The sound of a back slamming on the concrete wall echoed throughout the whole warehouse. It was a cold night and the only thing that filled the air was the sickeningly dry, sweet metallic scent of blood pooled all over the concrete floor, where the bodies of those men, who lost their lives just a minute ago, were sprawled in. 

The man in his early 20s grabbed the collar of the man being slammed into the wall and coldly spat, “Do you know who you’ve just messed with?” Fear glowed in the man’s eyes as he shook his head with his hands clasping the hands of who was hovering on top of him. 

“Oh, do you want me to show you who you’re messing with now? Hyungwon-sshi can you please bring me sasha?” 

Hyungwon didn’t think twice but to do what he’s asked to do. “Here you go, Lee.” With the combat knife on his palms, Hyungwon immediately handed the knife to Lee (lol idk anymore), Jooheon’s brother. Swiftly grabbing the combat knife with his free hand, he skillfully twirls it with his fingers before placing the cold surface onto the man’s neck.

“Have you ever heard of the warnings…. never ever lay a hand on L?” Lee smirked smugly at the man as he squirmed under his touch. The man’s eyes widened in fear, he finally knew who he was and whom he had messed with. Before he could even speak up and ask for forgiveness, Lee has already slit through his neck, blood spurting from the neck. The red substance gushed down his chest like a waterfall and all he can ever do was to tighten his grip on Lee’s hand to support his weakening body. 

“Hope you’ll have a wonderful rest.” Prying the man’s hands off of his wrist, the body went limp on the floor and the rest of the boys immediately handed Lee some cloth to wipe off the blood smothered in his hands. 

“Now that my job is done, give my regards to Jooheon. I hope that girl will be alright. Anyhow, I must take my leave.” With just that, Lee has already left the boys with his men trailing behind him. Lee and Jooheon always had their backs, no matter what the situation is. Wonho heaved out a sigh and glanced over the bodies sprawled all over the warehouse.

“This has gotten pretty nasty, don’t you think?” He casually asked and motioned the other men to take care of the bodies. Everyone nodded in unison. Changkyun looked over to the boys and muttered, “I didn’t think that we’d get to see Lee again, tho.” 

“Yeah, he’s been busy lately with all the offers that he’s getting from those corporates,” Minhyuk added as he carefully removed the gloves off of his hands, throwing it on the side in the process. “Now that everything’s done, let’s head back to the hospital.” Everyone turned to look at Shownu and nodded their heads without muttering any complain.

“I wonder if [y/n]’s alright..” Kihyun muttered under his breath as they all got in the van. “Let’s just hope for the best.” Wonho replied, making Kihyun look at him in surprise as he didn’t think that anyone could hear what he just said. 

“But man, did she just surprise us with her skills?” Changkyun beamed in awe as he threw his arms up in the open space, making everyone look at him with a smile. 

“Well, I think we now know why Jooheon’s fallen head over heels over her.”

Staring at his listless hands wrapped around yours, he couldn’t help but let out another sigh. It has been one and a half hours since you were brought to your room. Your body was wrapped in bandages and it was already dependent on the machines attached to you. 

The sound of your breath was the only thing keeping Jooheon sane. His mind was blinded with fear. Nobody knew what would possibly happen to you. Were you going to live or die? 

In the midst of just staring at you with worry, the thought of your guardians come to his mind. It has been an hour and a half and nobody came. Looking around the room, he noticed your bag lying down on the cold floor with your stuff spilling out from it. Slowly letting go of your hand, Jooheon stood up and waltz towards the bag.

Looking through your things, he noticed finally caught a glimpse of your phone and your velvet covered journal. The night was young and Jooheon had all the time to investigate what’s in that journal of yours. With your phone on his left hand and journal on his right hand, he walked back to the chair beside your bed.

Jooheon didn’t think twice and placed the velvet covered journal on the nightstand and decided to unlock your phone, only to light up a picture of a seven-year-old you and your parents. A sudden change of his feelings scared him. Were his thoughts right or wrong? Do you not have your parents around you anymore?

He couldn’t bear the thought anymore and shook it off. Jooheon’s fingers skillfully found the contacts, only to see that you only have one contact in your favorites. It was your Uncle. Jooheon could feel his heartbeat race as he pressed the call button, and held it up to his ears.

It only took two rings for your uncle to answer. With a shaky voice, Jooheon spoke up. “Hello, is this the guardian of [y/n]?”

(Yes, how may I help you?)

“Ah… about that, Sir… [y/n]’s was brought here in the hospital.. and she’s in a critical condition.” Jooheon tried his best not to stammer. There was a long pause on the other side of the line. The gush of emotions almost choked Jooheon up. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to explain this to your uncle.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, your uncle finally spoke up.

(Can you tell me the address of the hospital?)

His voice was dejected. It was obvious that he was in the state of shock. Jooheon sympathized your uncle since he knew how it felt to be told that someone you loved dearly had only fifty chance of surviving.

Without thinking twice, Jooheon gave out the address to your uncle and told him that he’d tell him everything that had happened. Turning the phone off, he glanced towards your direction and couldn’t help but feel bad about being such a bully towards you.

A soft thud echoed throughout the walls your room. Jooheon had placed your phone down on the nightstand. His attention was now placed on your velvet covered journal. The cream pages were worn off from constant opening and flipping. 

Taking it into his hands, Jooheon studied the engraved initials on the cover. It was the initial of your first name and last name, and below it had your parent’s initials. On the bottom, it had your parent’s message of encouragement. Unbinding the lock, Jooheon opens the journal and sees the exact same picture that was on your phone. 

You had a big, happy smile plastered on your face. Your parents lovingly held you as everyone posed right in front of the camera. Taking it in his hands, he looked at the back and saw a long message from your mother and father. It was their last will, from what Jooheon understood.

Tears were welling up in the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t believe that you had to go through such obstacles in life. Silence filled the room, and this was already suffocation Jooheon. Out of respect for your privacy, Jooheon immediately placed the journal away and returned his attention to your unconscious state.

“C’mon, [y/n], don’t give up on us now… please.”

The boys took their time as they couldn’t bring themselves to face what happened once again. The stars and moon shone so brightly that it was such a bliss to enjoy the view where there was no problems lingering around the corner, minds filled with thoughts that only one can ever hear, and hearts beating as one. 

Coming to a stop, the boys looked out at the window and saw that they’ve finally arrived at the hospital. “We’re here.” Shownu announced and went out, only to be followed by the rest. 

“I wonder how Jooheon is doing right now..” Minhyuk muttered as they all went in to the hospital lobby. There was barely any patients or visitors around. “God, now I remember why I hated coming to the hospital.” Hyungwon said as his eyes roamed around the empty space.

“Hm? Why?” Wonho asked with curiosity. Never have the boys talked about really personal matters but due to unexpected happenings, they were able to speak up about themselves and the bottled up feelings.

“It just makes me remember the things that have happened in the past.” Hyungwon’s response may be short but it had an impact to everyone. All of them knew how it felt since they’ve experienced the same tragic ending. 

“Liven up, guys. Why do we always have this gloomy atmosphere when we talk about this?” Changkyun tried to ease up the tension but it didn’t help. The boys only flashed him a faint smile but behind those smile had painful stories.

The boys continued to walk towards your room. Neither anyone of them bothered talking. The only sound that can be heard was the clicking of the bottom of the shoes on a marble floor echoed throughout the hallway. 

Shownu came to a halt when he heard voices inside the room. It was a voice of some man in his late forties and Jooheon’s voice. Wrapping his fingers on the knob, Shownu slides it open and peeks, only to meet the gaze of Jooheon.

“Oh, you’re here.” Jooheon’s voice was soft, and a smile was plastered on his face. Taken aback by the younger lad’s gestures, Shownu composed himself and entered the room with the boys trailing behind him. 

“I want you guys to meet [y/n]’s uncle, Mr. [y/u/n]. He’s gonna be here with us until we get the results.” One by one, they shook your uncle’s hands and took a seat on the corner with their shoulders squared. 

“Jooheon-ah, I’ll just go and talk to [y/n]’s doctor, okay?” Your uncle excused himself, to which Jooheon nodded with a smile. Once your uncle left, Jooheon looked at the boys and asked, “How was it?”

“It’s already been taken care of, and Lee sends his regards to you.” Kihyun reported. Jooheon nodded and absent-minded stared into thin air. The words of your uncle replayed in his mind, leaving a deep impression on him.

‘[y/n] has been such a wonderful daughter to me. Even though I’m not her biological father, she had always treated me as her second father. [y/n] was still young when she lost her parents from a plane crash.’ Mr. [y/u/n]’s voice trailed off as he sadly looked at you. Jooheon nodded as he continued to listen to his story. 

‘At such young age, I had her learn Kyokushin Karate and Krav Maga in order to protect herself from the world. She has always been that kid who’d defend those who are in need but never uses her skills for revenge.’  That was the reason why you fought with such skill, never had he expected you to learn something difficult at a very young age. 

‘Don’t worry, Mr. [y/u/n]… My friends took care of the ones who did this to [y/n]–’ Before Jooheon could finish his sentence, your uncle shook his head and smiled, ‘There’s no need to seek revenge on those who’ve done bad to my daughter. What’s happened has already happened. We just have to accept it in order to live a peaceful life.’

Jooheon snaps away from his own train of thoughts and glances towards his friends before heaving out a sigh. He surely realized that he doesn’t deserve to meet a girl like you. You were just too precious. Too pure to have a guy, who’s life was already stained with blood, in your life. 

“I don’t know anymore, guys.” He blabbered while scoffing at himself, pitying at how he felt weak all of a sudden. It was a rare sight to see Jooheon like that but the boys were kind of glad to be able to relate and get to know Jooheon more, rather than just dealing with the facade he always has to put up.

Shownu didn’t think twice as he walked towards Jooheon and pulled a chair beside him, placing an arm around the younger lad’s shoulder. “What made you say that?” 

“I just… I couldn’t help but think twice about how I run my life, hyung.” Shownu’s couldn’t bear to see his younger brother like this. Giving him a big pat on the back, Shownu pulls Jooheon’s into a hug. “Why?” The two of them stayed in that position for awhile, neither one of them felt the urge to pull away.

“Mr. [y/u/n] said something to me awhile ago that really woke me up. He told me that… there was no need to seek revenge to those have done us wrong and just accept what happened in our lives in order to live a peaceful life…” 

Jooheon stares blankly at the wall while speaking. Shownu just nods his head before pulling away, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Then, what do you want to do with your life now?”

What does he want to do with his life now? What does his heart want? Jooheon listlessly stares at Shownu. His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered upon that question but it only made him more confused that he lets out a sigh before giving the older lad in front of him a smile.

“I… I think I need to think about it in the meantime. But, thanks hyung.” Shownu just lets out a fatherly smile before ruffling Jooheon’s hair. The moment was then disrupted when the doctors came in and made everyone leave the room and wait as they had to check up on your condition.

Everyone was now back to the same waiting area. Their hearts were beating, nervousness kicking when they saw the nurses bringing you to the operating room. It was already past twelve and sleep was not their priority right now. It was your life that was their priority. 

Some the boys excused themselves and went to the cafeteria to grab some late midnight meal, leaving only Jooheon, Kihyun and Shownu back at the waiting area. Neither of them spoke up and they continued to wait. 

After an hour, the doctors finally came out and flashed the boys a smile. “She’ll be up maybe a couple of minutes or hours. Good thing her uncle came in and made us check on her before it was too late.” 

“S-so, she’s fine now?” Jooheon couldn’t help but stammer as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yes, Ms. [y/n] is going to fine now but she’ll still be staying at the hospital for the three weeks. Now, I think you boys should go and go to her room since her uncle left you, in-charge for now.”

Without wasting any second, the boys nodded their heads and thanked the doctor for his hard work before rushing to your room with a lighter heart this time. 

Sliding the door open, the boys quietly went inside the room and found you peacefully breathing with the machines still attached to you. In the midst of going back to their seats, Kihyun was able to spot the letter placed right beside your bed. “O-oh, Mr. [y/u/n] left us a letter.” 

Kihyun’s round eyes met everyone’s curious gazes. “Should I read it for everyone to hear?” He queries and received a nod right away. “Alright…” Kihyun clears his throat and reads the letter out loud.

‘Dear boys,

First of all, I want to thank each and everyone of you for bringing my daughter right away to the hospital. If it weren’t for you guys she wouldn’t be here with us. Even though she got into that critical state from saving you guys, I’m glad that she was able to find such wonderful friends who’d be by her side until the end.

May God bless each and everyone of you. And I hope that you all have a wonderful life and may you guys continue to have a beautiful friendship with [y/n]. I welcome you all to our family. Once again, I want to thank each and one of you with all my heart.

And don’t worry, I’ll take care of your excuse letters for tomorrow! You guys can rest all day long since you guys have done a lot. Rest well and take care!

Sincerely Yours,

Mr. [y/u/n].

“Sincerely yours, Mr. [y/u/n]..” Kihyun’s voice trailed off before he lets out a chuckle. “This is the first time that we’re welcome to someone’s family despite our background..” Changkyun said, a sincere smile plastered on his face.

“I feel weird all of a sudden… Oh glob, is this normal?” Wonho almost choked up on his saliva as he wiped away the tears in the corner of his eyes. The boys continued blabbering how they felt, not noticing the smile on Jooheon’s face.

“Aigoo, aigoo. You guys are really noisy.” Jooheon rants with such look that made everyone burst out laughing. “Why don’t you guys rest up while I take care of [y/n]?” The boys started to groan and give Jooheon a look before marking their territory on the couch. All of their eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the minute until they’ve finally drifted to dreamland.

Jooheon, on the other hand, sat beside your bed while holding your hand with his left hand and with the letter on his right hand. He couldn’t help but break into a smile as he stares at you. Jooheon was happy that you are alright and that he was gonna see that sassy look that you’d always give him, the glare that you’d give him when he teases you and that smile that you give him when he does something unexpectedly nice.

Time passed before Jooheon noticed it. It was already three in the morning when he felt your hand twitch. The rush of adrenaline in his veins made him look at you with wide eyes. He was no longer sleepy as he was growing anxious about what’s going to unveil right before him. 

You were no longer unconscious. Your eyes fluttered open, only to hiss at the brightness of the lamp beside you. Everything around you was unfamiliar. Where were you? What happened to you after getting hit on the head? The anesthesia was already fading away, making all the pain attack you at once.

Wincing at you aching parts, you look around and only to be surprised to see Jooheon tearing up. His tears were falling down his cheeks, making you reach up to wipe those tears away. “You’re alive..” he cried out as he leaned to your touch. 

You didn’t know why you were happy to see him but you could feel your heart at ease at some point. Somehow seeing the bandages on his limbs and on his face kinda pinched your heart. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” You asked with a chuckle. Jooheon’s eyes were already bloodshot red and his lips were now swollen from crying. You couldn’t help but think how cute Jooheon was, making you giggle as you continued to wipe away the tears.

“I’m… j-just glad that you’re alive.” He sniffed and sniffed, trying to himself down. “Aww, don’t cry.” Your voice was a little bit raspy but Jooheon didn’t care. As much as he wanted to pull you into a tight hug, he controlled himself and just tighten his grip around your hand. 

You transferred your gaze towards the sleeping MX, making you burst into a smile. “You guys stayed until I could even wake up?” Jooheon nodded as he just continued to stare at you. You were touched by their gesture and because of that, the way you looked at them changed.

They still had the goodness in them despite all the strong and intimidating front. You could feel your heart skip a beat when Jooheon called out your name, making you look at him. “Mmm?” 

“Thanks for not giving up on us.” You were taken aback by his sudden outburst, a gush of pink tinted on your pale cheeks. You just nodded and smiled him, making him blush. “Uh..  Let me fix your bed so that you can sit right up.” He muttered and clicked on a button, reclining your bed. You muttered thanks and received a nod from Jooheon before he takes a seat.

The two of you just stayed silent for awhile until Jooheon decided to break the silence. “Your uncle came, by the way.” Just hearing your uncle’s name made your breath hitch. You knew what your uncle was capable of sharing and the thought of Jooheon knowing about your life was something that you didn’t want to happen.

“What… did he say?” You warily asked and slowly loosen your grip around his hand, making him notice the sudden change. “He told me how much he’s thankful to have a daughter like you despite you going through a lot of challenges in life.”

Jooheon didn’t break into details and just gave you a faint smile. He may look like he was telling the truth but you knew that one day your story would be told anyways. You glanced at him and remembered that you owe him an explanation of the skills that you’ve shown.

“About what happened…” you paused and looked if he was listening. “Nobody knows that I know how to fight… and you guys are the first ones to see me get into action.” You continued and just stared at the ceiling as you speak.

“I’ve been learning Kyokushin Karate and Krav Maga since I was still a little kid and I don’t regret learning it though. I knew that I needed to learn it especially that I can’t always have my uncle around to protect me and….” 

Telling Jooheon about your past kind of lifted off a heavy feeling that has been weighing you down for the past years. Before you knew it, you were already telling him about your deceased parents. “I lost my parents at the age of seven or six from a plane crash. Of course, I was too innocent to understand how the real world worked but my uncle didn’t spare me any sugar-coated details and told me that I won’t be able to see them anymore.”

Jooheon stayed quiet and just listened to you. He felt happy that you were opening up to him but sad to hear the story directly from you. “And that when I realized my world was already falling apart but I didn’t really get that to me because I had to stay strong in order to make them happy despite not being here with me.”

“My uncle decided to adopt me and treat me like her daughter and I’m thankful that he accepted me… since there was no one else who’d welcome me into their family.” There was a pang in his chest when he saw your tears falling down your cheeks. 

You finally broke down. You couldn’t help but feel the uncanny feeling that you’ve felt 12 years ago. Biting on your quivering lips, you brought your free hand up to your face and wiped your tears away.

Jooheon was stunned to see what was happening. Should he pull you into a tight hug or something? Without thinking twice, Jooheon stood up and pulled you carefully into a hug, only to make you cry harder. “It hurts….”

“It’s alright, just let it all out [y/n]. I’m here… we’re here for you.” Jooheon whispered as he continued to caress your back. The two of you stayed in that position until you’ve finally calmed down. Jooheon pulled away and cupped your cheeks. 

Wiping your tear-stained cheeks with his handkerchief, he looked directly at your eyes before planting a kiss on your forehead. “You’re not alone now, [y/n]. You have us. You have your uncle. We’re going to be here for you until the end.” 

You suddenly noticed the sudden change of emotions in his eyes. It was moist and shiny, his pupils were dilated and his gaze was prolonged. He never left his gaze off of you. You suddenly felt your stomach do back flips as your heart raced.

“You have me, [y/n].” Jooheon blurted out and before he knew it, he was telling you the words that his heart has been saying for such a long time now. “You have me because… I love you… I have loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you. You have always been the apple of my eye.” 

“When you got hurt because of us, I couldn’t help but blame myself over and over especially when I saw how listless you were already.” Jooheon glanced down and continued, “I never realized that my feelings for you have grown until I suddenly felt scared of losing you.” 

Jooheon suddenly felt silent for awhile before he glanced up and continued, “I love you, [y/n].. and I don’t care if you’ll reject me or what but I’m glad that I’m able to tell you how I feel. I don’t regret confessing but I just want to let you know that you have people who are willing to welcome you in their lives… just like how your uncle welcomed me and the boys with his arms wide open.”

“Jooheon…” your voice trailed off and could feel your chest tighten. You didn’t realize that you have been denying your feelings all along. Jooheon has always been the first person who came into your mind when you wake up and when you go to bed. You didn’t really care about him being the leader of MX as you’ve slowly grown to just accept it after being seatmates

Chuckling at how you just realized it now, you flashed him a toothy grin before grabbing him by the hands. “Thank you… and no, I won’t reject you because I love you too actually… It’s kinda stupid for me to just realize it now but yeah, I love you too.”

The sight of Jooheon’s eyes widen in surprise was the cutest thing that you’ve ever since. “Are.. are you serious?” You nodded your head in response and noticed the smile creeping on his face.

“Oh, God… Uh.. omo��” Jooheon was speechless. He was happy. Too happy to even think of something to say. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?”

“O-oh right! [y/n]…. will you do the honors of being my girlfriend?” Jooheon shyly asked. “Yes.” Before you knew it, Jooheon wrapped his arms around you. “I love you, [y/n].” He cooed as he pulled away. 

“I love you too, Jooheon.” Jooheon didn’t think twice and placed a quick kiss on your lips. The two of you lovingly stared at each other, only to be disturbed by the ringing voice of Minhyuk.

“Omo, guys! [y/n]’s awake!!”

[gothic--fairy]

#LetMagnusBaneSitInAlec'sLap2k17 No srsly tho, if u wanna write aomething about that. Maybe like 5 times magnus sat in alecs lap and it wasnt sexual + the one time it was? Whatever you'd like😂😊😊😊

Hi! Sorry, but I’m really not the type for writing such things T_T. I hope you’ll at least enjoy a fluffy one instead! ^^

The Five Times Magnus Sat in Alec’s Lap, by Gothic–Fairy

One 

It wasn’t long after they started officially dating when Magnus found out about how much Alec sucked at getting pop culture references - especially the ones associated with TV. Well, the life in the Institute didn’t really offer much spare time to slack off and watch something. And because Magnus knew that, he came up with yet another amazing idea - a weekly movie night, of course! Alec wasn’t against it, either. It made Magnus happy that they could spent so much time together and a happy Magnus meant a happy Alec. 

So, once again, Alec ended up sprawled on a sofa in Magnus’ apartment, waiting for the warlock to sit next to him and rest his head onto Alec’s shoulder as he was used to nowadays. That day though, things were different. Maybe, it was just Magnus being extra cuddly or it was something else, but when Magnus finally walked towards Alec, he sat even closer than usual, one of his hands wrapped Alec’s waist as he swung his legs across Alec’s lap. He reminded Alec of a fluffy kitten, being curled up in that way and all, and he thought that Magnus might have even started purring if he dared to scratch his head. 

The idea itself made Alec chuckle, earning a raised eyebrow from Magnus.

“Are you laughing at me, Alexader?” He asked with a mischievous grin.

“Nope. No laughs from here.” Alec tried to suppress another giggle bubbling in his lungs. Magnus obviously enjoyed Alec catching up on his intentions right away, pressing his body against Alec’s as the Shadowhunter brought both of his hands around him, leaving a kiss in his hair.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

Two

“Sorry, Magnus, guess we’re out of seats!” Izzy said across from Alec, trying to outshout the loud music around them, a wide smirk playing on her lips. They were in the middle of a nightclub, to Alec’s great dismay, celebrating Simon’s band’s successful concert or because of some other excuse Izzy thought up to lure them out. They found a bit secluded place to sit, away from the dance floor, and Magnus offered himself to get some drinks. When he came back, everyone was already seated, except for him. 

Oh, Izzy, I can see what you did there, Alec thought as he watched her innocently shrug her shoulders and whisper something to Magnus. Alec would bet anything that she was planning something all along. But what? 

He could only stare as the two of them exchanged amused smiles. They were totally up to something.

“Well, Alexander.” Magnus spoke up after approaching Alec. “It seems you’re my only option.” He finished and took one last step before sliding his arm around Alec’s shoulders and gracefully plopping down to sit in Alec’s lap, still sipping his drink. It shocked Alec for a second, this sudden change of events, and he could only thank his instincts for catching and steadying Magnus. 

Alec could see the pleased look in his eyes, his fingers tangled in Alec’s dark hair. The night wasn’t going to be so boring after all. 

Three

Alec felt very happy. Everyone was enjoying themselves, sitting around a campfire, singing songs and messing around. Clary and Jace got back together in the end and Simon seemed astonished that he was allowed to hold Izzy’s hand in public. It was a perfect night. 

“I’ve found the blanket!” Magnus announced next to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was getting quite cold so Magnus suggested to share a blanket - ‘The blanket is way too big for a single person, Alexander.’ And what was a better way to wrap them both in it than for Magnus to sit between Alec’s spread knees, pressing his back against Alec’s chest. 

Alec sighed but brought him even closer anyway, resting his chin on Magnus’ shoulder, his arms around Magnus’ middle. It was a very pleasant feeling to have someone this close, he had to admit. 

Four

Alec’s heart was beating so fast he could hear it in his ears. Blood was rushing through his body as he breathed without actually being able to get oxygen to his system. This wasn’t happening. 

“Alec, it’s going to be alright.” Izzy reassured for a millionth time. 

“But he’s not waking up!” Alec shouted back, his voice breaking.

“He used up too much magic. But they said he was gonna be fine. He just needs to rest.” 

There had been a sudden attack on the Institute. Valentine’s man came out of nowhere, fighting their way in. They were defeated in the end, but took lives with them as well. There were many casualties so it was only natural for Magnus to try and help as many of them as he could, when the iratze wasn’t working fast enough. It took its price, though. He was using Alec’s strength but it was still too much and he ended up collapsing into Alec’s arms. 

There were other people, warlocks who came with Magnus, that assured Alec he’ll be alright, but Alec’s mind remained in panic mode. He was sitting near one of the walls of the infirmary, leaning against it, one of his arms around Magnus’ unconscious body, holding him close. All the beds were taken by the badly injured and there wasn’t enough energy in Alec to try and carry him somewhere else. 

“He’s not waking up..” He whispered again, cupping Magnus’ cheek with a shaky hand, bringing their foreheads together. There were tears forming in his eyes and he closed them, letting a single drop fall down. He’d never imagined it was possible for someone to be this scared, frightened to death. 

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. He repeated in his mind. As if it would bring his loved one back to him.

“It’s nice that you waited for me, Alexander.” A voice spoke up and his tears were swept away. 

He opened his eyes to see exhausted but awake Magnus smiling sleepily at him. He didn’t hesitate even a second and pressed their lips together. This time he felt the tears of happiness. 

Five

It was only a couple of days after the attack and Alec was staying at Magnus’ place again. Magnus was still quite tired and Alec was willing to be around and help if needed. 

Alec woke up early as always - it wasn’t something unusual. He was about to move and get up, when he realized the weight on his chest. Firstly he was ready to move the cat Magnus have probably let wander around away but instead his hands found a warm body lying on top of his own. Only now he let his eyes open to see a still asleep warlock there, his arms wrapped tightly around Alec, holding for dear life. And for a moment Alec wondered - how the hell did he not wake up? 

He tried to move Magnus a little bit, but he was surprisingly strong even when sleeping, pulling himself closer to Alec. He murmured something under his breath as if complaining. 

“Mags?” Alec called his name with a soft smile. It wasn’t very likely that he’d give up the hold anytime soon. In fact, he just turned his head a little bit, burying his face in the crook of Alec’s neck. 

Alec ran his hands over Magnus’ back, trying to gently wake him up, chuckling a little. And after a few more minutes Magnus finally stirred, then stiffened.

“Alec?” he asked, confused. “Why am I lying on you?” 

“Well, I was going to ask you the same question, you sleep-octopus.”

Tadaa ^^. Hope you liked it! It’s not exactly what you asked for but at least it’s fluffy? Please, let me know what you think :).