#she was so dehydrated she was PANTING if she moved around too much

[softgothbabe]

My new kitty's name is Spooky btw 🥺🥰

[dollfacefantasy]

Helloo, I love your fics! Your Leon x reader x chris one is really good!

Could you please write a Chris redfield x reader, where hes a Munch, liking eating reader out multiple times until shes overstimulated

Thank youu

no cause you're actually so real. like everyone says leon is a munch which true but i believe chrissykins is just as down.

he parts your thighs, his huge hands keeping them spread nice and wide for him. he starts with delicate kisses on your pussy. he's gotta remind her how much he loves her before he gets down to the real dirty work after all. so he pecks your clit and makes out with your entrance a bit, his warm tongue slipping out to caress over it. it's gentle and tender. a little warm up to prep you for what's to come.

once you've gotten used to the kisses, he gets a little more intense. he wraps his lips around your sensitive clit and gives it a few sucks. his tongue laps at your cunt now, laves over it in broad strokes as though he's dehydrated and you're the only water source left on planet earth.

every move he makes, he's working to coax some cute sounds out of you. all your little whines and whimpers get his cock rock hard, kicking in his boxers.

you cum once, but he doesn't stop. his mouth stays attached to your pretty pussy. you whine and squeal, pushing at his head. but your big, strong boyfriend doesn't care. he ruts against the mattress and fucks his tongue into you as you cry out a mix of 'more' and 'too much.'

he can't get enough of the taste, and he wants the smell surrounding him for all of eternity. your thighs clamp around his head, your hips bucking as you go through a second orgasm and then a third. you're sobbing by the end, but he just can't help it. he gets pussy DRUNK when he's between your thighs.

he finishes the same way he started. gentle kisses to your swollen clit and puffy folds. when he pulls away, his chin is glistening with your slick and the front of his pants has a small wet patch. he crawls up the bed to cradle you to his chest and wipe those tears away, cooing at you how you're so good for him. his precious baby.

[bfictioncorner]

“Come Through the Window, Spend the Night”

Media: Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Rating: 18+ (or R or M)

Pairing: Jennifer Check x fem (afab) reader

Content and warnings: cunnilingus/oral sex, biting mentioned, mommy kink, blood mentioned, sorta cannibalism mentioned, Jennifer having a teasing attitude… mentions of her demonic powers/possession and killing…

Summary: You’ve been wanting to get to know Jennifer a little better throughout all of high school, but now that graduation has come and gone she suddenly seems interested.

Author’s notes: Takes place in the Jennifer’s Body universe as if she never got caught and killed, and just kept doing her thing past graduation. Jennifer is at least 18 or 19 here based off that (and reader is implied to be about the same age). Also there’s a mention of Needy.

Years of color guard and a failed year in cheerleading had you regularly trailing around Jennifer… not intentionally, just circumstantially. Which you didn’t mind at all. Sometimes you spoke casually, even outside of practice, and every time she was sweetly warm (which was saying something, considering she often seemed short to others).

Now that the summer after graduation had rushed upon you, you felt the need to do something to draw closer. There was a magnetism to Jennifer’s presence that skewed what it was you actually wanted to be to her. What were you classified as to begin with? Were you just always gonna be the nice floater friend, or were you trying to reach bestie status? It wasn’t as if she hung around Needy as much anymore…

“Hey, Jen,” you bumbled one day at the end of a post-grad color guard get together. (You didn’t want to be there, but talking to her was the only appeal in it.) “Your hair looks nice. I wanted to ask you where—”

“Yours is too, babes.” She delivered that automatic, white-and-shining performance smile. “I’d like to braid it sometime. It’s so long and smooth.” Her fingers reached out unexpectedly and interlaced with the strands hanging off one of your shoulders. You stiffened at the touch. “You have to tell me what you use! Mane and Tail? Some kind of mask treatment?”

You stumbled, completely taken aback. “Um, well…”

“You can tell me when we do hair together. Wanna come over tomorrow night?”

The urgency to obtain the details of where and when escaped you. “Yes!” was all you could manage.

…And that was how you ended up staying over at Jennifer’s house, sprawling around on her cushy bed late into the night. As promised, she brushed and braided your hair, went into a hair care rant, and then settled into a quiet hum of kicking stuffed animals off the bed and looking through magazines.

The quiet was comfortable enough, allowing you to steal secret glances over the curve of her ear and the black hair that trailed from behind it and over her shoulder… over her chest where the neckline sagged revealingly. Every detail of her form, her presence, made you panting, lips and tongue sticky with dehydration.

“Jen, can I ask you something?” you broached, feeling the need to fill the air. You squirmed around in the purple silk shorts and tank she’d leant you. “Why don’t you hang out with Needy anymore?”

A strange, pallid glaze clouded Jennifer’s eyes, serious and pensive. Her lips moved, a crack in her voice starting and stopping, unsure where to begin. “Sometimes people change. I changed, and Needy didn’t really vibe with it. I maybe also did some not great things… But, like, I had to…”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s part of getting older and growing apart,” you reasoned with a small shrug. Your eyes were hesitant to lock with hers, rushing around everywhere but. “And I’m sure the things you did were hard for her to deal with, but it wasn’t like you killed anyone.”

The flash in Jennifer’s crisp, light eyes—lashes framing and fluttering like thick, black, scalloped lace—appeared remorseful for a brief moment. A blink-and-you-miss-it moment. But that quickly shifted into a playful admittance of guilt. “You know all those murders around here? Specifically all the boys from school that—” Jennifer mimed a slashed throat, drawing her thumb across her neck.

“…Yeah?”

No answer. No verbal confirmation. Just a finger pointing to herself, a sheepish smile to match.

“Bullshit,” you rasped, letting your eyes roll reflexively. “You’re yanking my tail! As if you’re some kind of serial killer…”

“Not a serial killer. I was just… hungry. Like REALLY hungry. Like, on your period hungry.”

“I don’t—” You shook your head, confused.

Jennifer moved as if she was growing impatient in her own explanation. Just cut to the chase. Black hair fanned off her shoulders gracefully as she reached away, into her nightstand drawer, to retrieve a box cutter. It didn’t seem like the type of thing she would own. It also reflected some old red residue crusted on the blade.

Holding up her palm in front of your face, she slashed the thin skin with the angled blade. But as soon as blood had started to drip down in thick trickles, the source had sealed up… making you question what you just saw.

“I’m… different…” she shrugged, tucking a slick chunk of hair behind your ear, something mildly apologetic in her inflection. “I’m… a god…”

“You’re a demon,” you sort of gasped, keeping your tone as light and slightly joking as possible. It was an understatement to say you didn’t know how to react, how to speak… and yet you were drawn in hard.

“Not a demon! Just possessed, silly!” Her sheet-soft expression melded into a giddy grin. The strand she had just tucked behind your ear was now wrapped around her finger. You felt her subtle tug. Every touch was like a carnivore playing with a carcass, or laying claim to some prey.

Your unmasked reaction gave you a hesitant quiver, as if you were winding yourself into a fatal predicament. “God, what are you gonna do to me? Eat me? Drink my blood?” Your tone was surprisingly nonchalant and mocking—so hushed, though desperate. It might have been a mistake if what was concluded about the killing was true… But your time had to come sometime. If you were going to give in, “too late” didn’t matter.

“Eat you, huh?” Jennifer smirked nastily. “All this… softness?” She raked the silken neckline down to expose your breasts, no bra as a barrier. You could feel sticky pink lips and the gentle point of her nose bury into your cleavage. “Gross. How disgustingggggg…” Her voice trailed off, teasing. “You must think I’m some kind of monster.”

Her muffled voice was deliciously appealing, especially the more her lips and tongue suctioned to your skin, sounding oddly vulnerable and messy.

“Maybe I’m into that,” you murmur, biting your lip to maintain control and composure (futile as it would be).

“Say ‘please’,” she whispered against the thin skin against your sternum.

“Please for what?”

Your chest was suddenly cold with the absence of her lips. You could feel your back curve into the plush comforter below, helplessly, warm and suffocating, chest pressing upwards as Jennifer gingerly lowered herself upon you. Her hands braced down your forearms, a gentle sort of touch in her palms, her fingers. There was an itch for violence and domination in the contrasting force put upon you, but all babying smiles the whole while. Her glossy pink and black nails grazed sweetly on your skin, moving from your arms down to your bent legs.

“‘Please’ to start and ‘please’ to stop,” she chimed. In such an impenetrably fast change in position, Jennifer’s body had sort of caged over yours, head lowered to inspect the taper from your ribs to your belly to your hips, and then… “Such a good girl,” her voice fell out, somewhere between a growl and a giggle. She looped her arms under your bent knees in a motion to scoop you under her in a more strategic placement.

“Please?” you stuttered, having an idea where this was going, but nearly blacking out from the reality of it.

“God, so well-behaved too. Mommy likes that.” Her last words trickled off, the whole sentiment nearly lost on you for the fact that her face was buried between your legs, chin somehow pushing the tiny shorts out of her way.

Thighs jolting and cramping all at once, you were sold perpetually on the pleasure and pain of it all. Your eyes remained shut in bumbling, untethered ecstasy, Jennifer’s nose pressing against your clit with just the right pressure… her lips sucking around your soft, fleshy entrance. For a moment, it felt like little pinpricks, little razors, were raking and pushing into your pussy. It didn’t hurt as much as it tortured and overstimulated, causing a greater throb to your clit. You had to convince yourself it was her “regular” teeth and not some fangs that had suddenly sprouted. But you couldn’t be certain of that.

Everything felt muffled as you pushed deeper against the mattress, pink sheets encapsulating your view, skin tacky from the heated friction… Too soon had you felt the warning pressure coursing from your core to further down.

“Jen…” You felt embarrassed, a little shy… Incredibly turned on. “I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, come for Mommy.” Her command was obstructed by her tongue thickly lapping and curling up from deep within up to the peak of your rosy clit. Saliva strung from her tongue and down her chin like an animal, except her cold eyes had glared at you with wanton intention.

“Please, Jen… Mommy…” you piped up, ashamed, but letting yourself go at the same time. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together at the itching, haze-inducing release, but didn’t dare crush Jennifer’s head. Instead a fragile, satisfied whine escaped, echoing strangely in a voice that didn’t quite sound like your own.

Jennifer’s mouth, glided over your pussy with a final lick, popping off with an unnecessary flair. She dabbed her chin and lips daintily before rearranging her posture and pouncing on you again. “Sorry. I might’ve drawn a little blood, but you tasted so good, babes.”

“I wasn’t sure what kind of, um, eating I was expecting.” You wanted to gulp like a cartoon, adrenaline high and nerves uncertain.

“Don’t worry, I typically only eat boys. But, uh, I can eat you like that again, if you like. Sometime. Whenever….” Jennifer’s blue stare caught yours, her lips curling into a sweet pout, her index finger locked into the spaghetti strap against your clavicle. Her eyes fell to that spot, as if she was considering biting you right there on the collarbone.

“Well, I’m usually free on this night during the week,” you bashfully replied.

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 35

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 - Part 26 - Part 27 - Part 28 - Part 29 - Part 30 - Part 31 - Part 32 - Part 33 - Part 34

Just as Crocodile's dry lips are about to touch yours, you realize the direness of the situation. However, before it's too late to escape, his head jerks back abruptly, and his grip on you loosens. A voice breaks through the tension, declaring, "That is not how you treat a lady." It dawns on you that the cook from earlier had not only interrupted the forced kiss but also delivered a powerful kick to Crocodile's head, causing him to stumble and fall onto the dusty street.

"Gum-Gum..." you hear Luffy's voice as his stretchy arms swiftly grab hold of you, pulling you away with incredible strength from the dark street corner and into the safety of his chest. "And now we run!" he announces with a laugh, holding onto you tightly as he propels both of you forward. Overwhelmed by the sudden assistance of your friends, you follow their lead, with Luffy refusing to let go of you and Nami directing your path with urgent shouts.

Under the scorching sun, panting and sweating, you continue to run, fully aware that your life depends on it. Finally, you arrive at the harbor, where the familiar sight of the beautiful ship you had seen before comes into view. Luffy and you come to a halt in front of the ship, while Nami hurriedly urges you to get on board with her. Luffy remains steadfast on the ground, preparing himself for a potential fight.

Breathless, you make it onto the deck, gripping onto the railing as you bend over, calling out to Luffy, "You don't need to fight him, Luffy. He's so much stronger than you!" In that moment, your best friend turns around, sporting a wide smile, warming up his muscles for whatever lies ahead. "He hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt my friends," he declares with unwavering determination.

Nami gently touches your arm, signaling for you to follow her. Suddenly, weakness floods your legs, making it almost impossible to move. "Luffy will be fine. If anyone can beat Crocodile's ass, it's him...!" the navigator assures you in a soothing tone. But before you can fully comprehend her words, you collapse. Darkness envelops your senses, sounds elongate and pierce through your head. You lose control over your limbs, feeling as though you are falling into a deep, dark abyss.

As consciousness slips away, the last thought that crosses your mind is of Buggy. You hold onto the hope that he is safe and well, even in the midst of your own uncertainty. 

As you awaken, you find yourself staring into the worried but adorable face of a small reindeer wearing a funny hat. Its human-like expressions catch you off guard, nearly causing you to tumble out of the bed you're lying in. "She woke up, Luffy!" the reindeer exclaims.

You shift your gaze to the side and see Luffy, who had been sitting there in a half-asleep state, hugging himself in a comfortable-looking position. "Y/n!" he exclaims joyfully, ready to leap towards you and embrace you in relief. However, the little reindeer restrains his movement, asking him to take it easy on you. "Y/n is still recovering. She needs rest and plenty of water!"

"What happened?" you manage to ask, your voice feeble.

"You were dehydrated and poisoned. It seems Crocodile must have given you something..." the little reindeer explains, displaying a deep understanding of the situation that immediately reassures you. "Poison...?" You attempt to sit up but are met with a sudden stinging pain from your left hip—the very spot where Crocodile had injured you before. You flinch and fall back onto your pillow.

"Please don't move!" the reindeer urges. "The poison was likely injected through the wound on your hip. I administered some neutralizing medication, but the wound itself has become infected and will require time to heal."

"Are we still in Alabasta?" you inquire.

"No, we've left!" Luffy beams at you, instantly making you feel safe and welcomed.

"And Crocodile...?"

"Sanji took care of him before we set sail. You're safe now!" The reindeer, Tony Tony Chopper, also smiles warmly at you.

You express your gratitude to Chopper for his help, but your energy wanes, and you sink back into your pillow, too weak to say more. Throughout your journey—from leaving the Snowland Pirates with the aspiration of becoming an independent pirate, to encountering little Buggy and Gaimon, and eventually joining Buggy's crew, falling in love with him, and battling Baroque Works—you had never truly experienced freedom or independence. The initial reason for leaving the Snowland Pirates had merely thrown you into another form of dependency, leaving you devoid of control over your own decisions. As you lie there in the cozy bed, too weak to get up, being cared for by your best friend and a reindeer, a sense of self-pity washes over you, mourning the helplessness you've been forced into. If there was just one decision you could make for yourself, one choice you longed to exercise, it was to reclaim the innocence Captain Buggy had stolen from you.

"Luffy..." you whisper, your eyes closed, hoping your friend can hear your plea. He leans in closer, his ear near your mouth, trying to catch your words.

"Promise me that we will find Buggy!" Tears well up in your eyes as you make this request, feeling the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates take hold of your hand, offering a gentle reassurance.

"Of course we will," he responds, leaving you to rest a while longer under the watchful eyes of Doctor Chopper.

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

Part 9 ❤️🍼💍

The following week, David was sitting next to Nikki in her first OBGYN appointment. She had just had her blood work drawn and they were waiting to be called back into the ultrasound room. 

When her name was called, she stood up, excited but hesitant. She was remembering this very same walk when she carried Dakota, but oh, how different this time was.She felt David squeeze her hand which snapped her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t realized she hadn’t moved after standing up. 

“Ready, babe?” He asked softly. 

She nodded and they followed the ultrasound tech into the room. The ultrasound was to determine how far along she was since she had no earthly idea. She was sent to the bathroom to undress from the waist down and returned with a sheet around her lower half. Deacon and the nurse helped her up onto the table. She placed her feet in the stirrups in preparation for the vaginal ultrasound. 

Nikki couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something calming about the love of her life being next to her throughout this process. The human body was nothing to be embarrassed about to Nikki, but she dealt with the nitty gritty on a regular basis. She knew a lot of women felt uncomfortable exposed like this - laying on a table, spread eagle. She knew a lot of women didn’t like a hint of light being on if their pants were down, but David didn’t make her feel like that. She appreciated that. 

David sat on the side of Nikki opposite the ultrasound tech with one hand over Nikki’s on her belly, his other hand stroking the hair on her head. David struggled to make out what he was looking at on the screen as the tech entered the probe into Nikki, but soon saw a little bean shaped baby on the screen. Nikki started crying as soon as she saw their baby and heard the heart beat. Tears welled up in Deacon’s eyes as well. 

“Baby…” Nikki cried. 

“I see, darling.” Deacon said, his tone of voice like a hug to Nikki’s soul. “Isn’t our baby beautiful?”

Deacon pulled Nikki’s hand to his lips and kissed it as they watched their baby wiggle around on the screen and the tech took pictures and measurements. 

“You’re measuring approximately 11 weeks along,” the tech said, “but your blood work will also confirm that too.”

“Thank you so much.” Nikki said. 

 

Once the ultrasound was over, Nikki and Deacon followed the tech to their exam room. The doctor came in and told Nikki that her bloodwork confirmed we was 11 weeks and 3 days along, however her electrolytes were off from being sick and not eating and she was extremely dehydrated. After the birth control was removed from Nikki’s arm, the couple were sent to another area of the office where Nikki received an IV and fluids filled with electrolytes accompanied by some IV nausea medicine. 

 

Deacon knew Nikki had felt bad, but didn’t realize it was to the point of needing IV fluids, replacement electrolytes, and IV nausea

medication. Nikki admitted to him she didn’t realize that either. Regardless, a new Nikki walked out of the doctor’s office and he was so relieved to see her color back, her seemingly feeling better, and most of all - ready to eat. Deacon was thankful for everything that day: Nikki, her health, her feeling better, and most of all - their baby. He opened Nikki’s door for her and helped her in before taking his place in the driver’s seat. 

“Where would you like to eat, baby?” Deacon asked, reaching his arm across the console and resting his hand on her lower belly. 

“Mmmm..” Nikki started. 

“No.” Deacon cut her off, “I asked the baby. Not you.”

He held her gaze with a serious look for a moment and then winked at her. 

she laughed and popped his arm with her hand. 

“A cheeseburger sounds delectable.” Nikki said. 

“Easy, babe, you’re drooling.” Deacon tapped her chin with his index finger as he laughed, “But seriously, whatever you want, my love. As long as I get to see you eat something.” 

 

The couple were snuggled up watching a movie and eating supper when David’s pager went off signaling he had to leave. Nikki got off of the couch with David to hug him goodbye. He put on his badge and his gun before wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. 

“I love you so much, beautiful.” David said, burying his face in her hair. “I love both of you.”

Nikki kissed Deacon’s neck, then his jaw, resting on his lips. 

Deacon pulled away first, got down on his knees, lifted Nikki’s shirt up, and kissed her belly. 

“Daddy loves you, baby.” He said against Nikki’s skin. 

Nikki couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she watched and listened to David talk to their unborn baby. 

“Be safe, sweetheart,” Nikki said while David stood to his feet. They kissed again before she watched him leave. 

 

“What’s got you grinning like the Cheshire cat?” Luca asked when he saw his teammate walk into the building. 

Deacon chuckled, “Nikki went to the doctor today. She got some fluids and medicine. She’s done a complete 180. Man, I’m so glad she’s feeling like herself again.”

“Admit it, Deac, that’s only so you can get some.” Hondo chuckled, walking by Deacon and patting him on the shoulder. 

“You got me!” Deacon pointed at Hondo, following him with his index finger. 

The team joked together for a few minutes before Hondo gave them the run down of why they were all there. 

Once the mission was complete, David was more than ready to return home to his girl and their baby. He needed her in his arms.

 

The next morning, David woke to Nikki snuggled up next to him, tracing circles in his chest. 

“I’m ready to be your wife…” 

David perked up, waking up more when he heard Nikki say those words. 

“Hmmm, is that so?” He asked. 

“Are you not?” Nikki had a hint of concern in her voice. 

“Why don’t we go today?” 

Nikki pulled her head off of his shoulder and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him.

“What?”

“I said… why don’t we get married today?” David brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “All we have to do is go down to the magistrates office, sign a marriage license, say some vows, and you’re Mrs. Kay.” He smiled at her in a way that gave her butterflies. 

“What about an engagement?” 

“Do we need one to know we want to get married?” 

“Well… I guess not… Dress and suit?”

“We can go buy you a dress, I have my class A uniform.”

“Witnesses?”

“I have an entire team that would be thrilled to be our witnesses.”

“Rings?”

“Let’s go pick em out, baby.”

“And a honeymoon?”

“We can take a honey/babymoon in 3 or so months - let you feel a little less miserable but not about to pop and it will give us time to plan a good trip.” 

“David Kay…”

“Yes, love?”

“Let’s get married.” 

 

The rest of 20-David were ecstatic to hear about David and Nikki’s courthouse wedding and were more than willing to clear their plans for the small ceremony at the magistrate’s office. 

“You look beautiful, babe.” Luca said, giving Nikki a hug.

“You all look phenomenal yourselves,” she replied, taking in each member in their best SWAT dress. 

“We’re so happy for you two,” Chris said, following Luca’s hug. 

“Thank you, Chris.”

“Let’s get married!” Hondo said, rounding up his team to begin the proceedings. “Deacon told me 8 months ago he was going to marry this girl,” he put his arm around Nikki, “and I don’t know how he’s waited any longer.” 

The team laughed and David took Nikki’s hand and led her inside of the building. Once everyone was seated in the small room used to little ceremonies, Nikki and Deacon joined the magistrate under the archway fixed up for couples. 

The time came for Deacon to say his vows. He intertwined his fingers in Nikki’s, never breaking eye contact with her. 

“Baby, it’s not secret to anyone in this room that you literally saved my life. You don’t have to tell me that I did all of the hard work. My desire to do any of the hard work came because you took the time to make sure I was okay in the middle of the most terrifying moment of my entire life. Now, it’s my turn to spend the rest of my life taking care of not only you, but also, taking care of our baby.” 

Nikki grinned when she heard the gasps of surprise coming from their friends. 

Deacon chuckled to himself, never breaking his gaze with Nikki, “You have become my very best friend, my girlfriend, for a very brief few moments - my fiance, you have become the mother of my baby, now it’s time to make you my wife. I promise to love and take care of you for the rest of my life, Nikki.”

Deacon slid Nikki’s rings onto her finger.

“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The magistrate spoke.

“Sergeant David Kay, you may kiss your bride.” 

David took Nikki’s face in his hands and passionately kissed her lips. 

20-David immediately began clapping and whistling. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. & Mrs. David Kay.” 

David’s team jumped up to hug the couple. 

“Talk about one hell of a pregnancy announcement!” Luca said. 

“Congratulations you two!” Hondo followed, “Deac, I see why you were so damn happy the other morning.” Luca laughed. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” Chris asked Nikki. 

“Much, much better after some IV fluids and medicine at my appointment.”

“How far along are you?” Hondo asked. 

“11 weeks and 4 days now,” David responded proudly. He pulled their ultrasound pictures out of his back pocket to show his team. Chris was the first to take them as Street and Luca looked over her shoulder. 

“Are you guys going on a honeymoon?” Tan asked. 

“Once I get around 30 weeks or so, we’re going to plan a trip away. A honey moon and baby moon.” Nikki said. 

“We’re so happy for you two.” Chris said. 

“Thank you so much,” Nikki replied, giving her a hug.

David and his new bride were both so grateful for each other and the support of his teammates.

[trektraveler]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

     Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them. 

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

My Hero

Summary: Doctor Sam WInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. She was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! Yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. Maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Sam x Reader, Doctor!Sam Winchester x You

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Garth, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, fluff

One Shot

Word Count: 3700

Author’s Notes: I swear, every time I get sick all I want is a Winchester to come and take care of me. Is that really so much to ask?? I think not! This is my very first Sam x Reader fic! I have a few more ideas rattling around for the youngest Winchester brother, but this is decent practice. For now. Enjoy!

Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

     “Coming, coming!”  Sam pulled t-shirt over his head as he trotted to the front door.  He’d been getting ready for bed when the insistent knocking started.

     The door swung open to a very nervous young man in a Wong’s delivery uniform.  Sam recognized him from the few times he ordered from them. 

     “Hey, its Garth, right?”

     “Yeah,” he shifted on his feet, his eyes round with worry, “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”

     Sam’s instantly shifted into his professional mode.  He was currently an attending at Lawrence General Hospital, having just moved back a year ago from L.A.  It had been an adjustment, but a welcome one.  Big city life didn’t suit Sam at all. 

     “I am.  What’s going on?’

     “I was dropping off an order down the hall to the lady in 302 and I heard this thud behind the door and now I can’t get her to answer.  I think something’s wrong.”

     Sam was already grabbing his medical bag, “Show me.”

     302.  He knew the woman who lived there.  More or less.  They kept running into each other.  He first discovered her fighting with the soap dispenser in the laundry room.  Then again when she locked herself out of the building during a thunderstorm.  And then last week when the elevator got stuck between floors.  He always seemed to be wandering by when she needed a rescue.  She was funny, smart, accident prone, and completely adorable. 

     Sam had been working up the courage to ask her out, but something always seemed to crop up.  An extra shift at the hospital or a birthday party for a colleague.  He knew it was an excuse.  For all of his professional success, Sam was, and always had been, extremely shy.

     “Y/N?”  He knocked loudly on the closed door, then tried the handle and found it locked. 

     “Alright, stand back,” he said to Garth.  In one powerful move, Sam kicked the door in, the heel of his foot landing in just the right spot to splinter the doorjamb. 

     “Damn,” Garth blew out an impressed breath, “You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

     You were laying in the foyer.  Curled on your side with your hair spread out like a halo.  A wallet sat a few inches away from outstretched fingers. 

     Sam was at your side in an instant, gingerly turning you over and searching for a pulse, “Y/N?  Can you hear me?”

     Garth hovered nearby, nerves in his voice, “Is she okay?”

     Sam ran a hand over your forehead, “She’s burning up.  Go see if you can find a washcloth and a glass of water.”

     His worry only grew when he carried you to the couch and you still didn’t come to.  He held your limp body up with one hand while he worked your hoodie off with the other, leaving you in a tank top and yoga pants.  He’d strip that off you too, if he had to.  Every inch of bare skin he touched felt like it was on fire! 

     “Why isn’t she waking up?”  Garth asked handing Sam a kitchen towel.

     “Dehydration.  With a fever this high, it can happen quick.”  Sam dipped the towel in the water filled coffee mug and bathed your face and neck.  Sure enough, his efforts were rewarded.

     You groaned, even that soft sound reverberated through your pounding head.  Everything hurt and all you wanted was to slip back into the blankness of sleep.   But it was so noisy!  Someone kept talking, like the parents in a Snoopy cartoon.  Unintelligible, insistent, and so annoying!

     Sam gently tapped your cheeks, “Y/N.  Come on, darlin.  Open your eyes for me.”

     With a bit of coaxing, you did as he asked.  Everything around you swirled and slowly came into focus.  Your head felt heavy and fell to the side, Sam was there and smiled down at you.  As a reflex, you smiled back before your fevered brain could catch up and tell you who you were looking at.

     “Hey… it’s my hero.”

     Sam chuckled in relief, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

     “You’re here.  That’s so nice… why are you here?”

     “You passed out,” he replied, pressing the cool cloth to your brow.  “Do you remember what happened?”

     You tried to search your memory, but everything was so fuzzy!  “Um, I came home from work… I was sick.  Felt really bad.  Everything hurt.  Achy and cold.  Headache.  Then I ordered soup from the place down on Main Street.  I dunno…I feel a little out of it.”

     There was a blood pressure cuff wrapped around your bicep that was inflating.  Where did that come from?  Sam was doing that doctor thing where they listen to you talk while taking vitals at the same time.   

     How did doctors do that?  Did they teach that in med school?  It seemed especially confusing to you as your thoughts kept skipping away and going down rabbit holes.

     Cool fingers felt under your jaw, pressing against swollen lymph nodes.  He always had such a gentleness about him.  Such grace.  Surprising for a man of his size, but he seemed to take such care with you.  Like you were the most rare, delicate creature in the world.

     Last week when you found yourself stuck in the elevator, it was Sam who answered your call.  He muscled open the doors single handed and lifted you up though the opening without breaking a sweat.  You were more than a little awe struck by his display of strength and chivalry.  If you’d had half a brain, you’d have invited him for coffee as a thank you.  As it was, you were preoccupied with being late to work.  A sadly missed opportunity with your handsome neighbor.

     “You came home from work, was that last night?”

     “Um, yeah.  Yes.  As if Mondays aren’t sucky enough.”

     Sam’s eyebrows rose, “That was two days ago.”

     “What?”

     “Today’s Wednesday.”

     That information had you on the move.  You sat straight up and instantly went white.  The room titled and if it weren’t for Sam’s hands steadying your shoulders, you probably would have slid right off the couch.

     “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Not so fast,” Sam advised, forcing you to recline.

     “I gotta go call work… or… somebody.”

     “The only place you are going is to the E.R.”

     “No, I can’t go to the hospital.”

     “Y/N, listen to me.  You’re dehydrated to the point that you fainted.  Your fever is 103, that’s dangerous territory.” 

     Sam tried to be stern, but he just didn’t have it in him.  You looked so pitiful with your hair sticking to the sweat slick skin and the dark smudges under your eyes.  You were desperately sick and he wasn’t going to simply leave you without treatment.

     “I know a lot of people are scared of the doctor, but I promise I’ll be right there with you.”

     You swallowed, wincing at the feeling of knives in your throat.  “I’m not scared, I’m uninsured.  My job is new, benefits don’t kick in for thirty days.”

     Garth piped up, “You’re a doctor, can’t you just prescribe something and treat her here?”

     “It’s not that simple.  She needs to be admitted so they can get an I.V. going and get some fluids into her system.  And bring that fever under control.”

     He felt your head loll against him.  He looked down in alarm and found you’d lost consciousness again. 

     “Y/N?  Wake up, Y/N!” 

     This time no amount of effort would bring you around. 

     “Damn it,” Sam growled as he got to his feet.  He grabbed a notepad from your entry table and scribbled a list down.  “Do you know that walk-in clinic on 42nd street?”

     Garth followed him, “Yeah, I pass it on my way to work.”

     “Great.  My brother is on call there tonight, go in and ask for Dean.  Tell him it’s for me, he’ll help you.”  Sam tore off the list and thrust it into Garth’s hand, “Get everything and hurry!”

     Garth shoved the paper in his pocket, “What if they don’t believe me?  That clinic isn’t in the best part of town, junkies hassle them all the time.”

     “Dean will believe you but in case he doesn’t say Poughkeepsie.  It’s our go word, means drop everything.”

     “A secret code word, you guys must be brothers,” Garth muttered on his way out the door.

     You woke feeling warm.  Bundled up in something soft and secure.  Your eyes stayed closed as you enjoyed the luxurious feeling.  Most mornings you woke up stiff with your muscles complaining about the ancient futon you had yet to replace.  It was left over from college and the wood slats dug into your hips, but moving to a new town was expensive!  Anything like a proper mattress would have to wait until you had a few more paychecks under your belt.

     You stretched a bit, content to roll over and fall back into your dreams, but something tugged on your hand and pinched.  You frowned and tried again; it was like you were caught in a fishing net. 

     “What the hell…?”  You grumbled unhappily, determined to keep your eyes closed out of stubbornness.  You blindly felt around and found a tube and tape attached to your right hand.

     Your eyes popped open.  An I.V.?

     You weren’t in your bed.  You weren’t in your room!  Where the hell were you? 

     The dimensions matched your bedroom, but it wasn’t bare bones like yours.  This one was painted a lovely smoke grey.  Bookshelves lined one wall and a mahogany dresser matched it on the other.  The bed was the biggest you’d ever seen.  The headboard was massive and intricately carved.  The mattress was firm but yielding. 

     The bedside table housed bottles of medication, a stethoscope, a digital thermometer, and a glass of water.  You remembered being sick.  Sicker than you’d ever felt.  You remembered your boss sending you home then… nothing.  Just a blur. 

     You sat up slowly.  When the room didn’t spin, you decided to press your luck.  You pulled back the covers enough to dangle your feet over the edge.  Your toes found plush carpet.  You felt weak, but not dizzy.  And you were cold without the blankets.  Looking down you found bare legs.  You were wearing only your tank top and Wonder Woman underwear. 

     Fuck.  Where the hell are my clothes?!

     With a quick yank, you pulled the I.V. out and headed for the door. 

     “Yeah, Dean I know.  If I promise to wash and wax your car, will you get off my case?”

     “No way in hell you are waxing my Baby, do I need to remind you about Liza Raffaella in the eighth grade?”

     “Please don’t,” Sam groaned into the phone. 

     “It’s wax on, wax off.  Not wax on, go chat up a nerd girl for three hours while the wax bakes on in the sun!”

     “Sam?”

     Sam spun at the raspy voice behind him.  You were standing in the hall, your hand braced against the wall for balance.  You looked a little wobbly, but far better than you had in hours.

     “I gotta go,” he told his brother before ending the call.  “Y/N, hey.  How you feeling?”

     “Confused.  How did I get here and where are my clothes?”

     “Oh!”  Sam’s cheeks colored instantly as he grabbed a soft, woven throw from the back of an over-sized chair.  He draped it over your shoulders and ushered you to the sofa.

     “Sorry about that, your fever was sky high.  Needed to bring it down in a hurry.  Here, sit.”

     You sank down onto a couch that was just as comfortable as the bed you’d woken up in.  Sam disappeared into the kitchen then returned with a glass of ginger ale and some crackers.  He was rattling off something about Chinese takeout and your pants being in the laundry.  All the while he was fussing over you.  His long fingers found the pulse point on your wrist, and he produced a pen light from somewhere to check your pupils.

     After a few minutes, he realized you were staring at him, “Y/N?”

     “Sam, grateful that I am for your hospitality and bedside manner… I still don’t understand why I’m here.” 

     “Well, I figured it would be a better place for you to recover… with all the construction.”

     Now you were really confused, “Construction?”

     Sam rubbed the back of his neck and embarrassment turned his ears pink, “Yeah.  I ah… I kinda broke down your door.”

     “What?!”

     “You weren’t answering!  I just had a really bad feeling, and I would never have forgiven myself if something happened to you.”

     His gaze traveled your face then locked on your eyes.  “I was worried about you.”

     You looked at him, really looked.  He was beautiful, as he always was, but there was an edge of exhaustion to his features.  His five o’clock shadow was darker than you’d ever seen it.  The fine lines around his eyes and lips were etched deeper and his hazel eyes were slightly red.  Even his enviable hair was disheveled. 

     “So, you committed destruction of property to save my life?”

     “I did.”  He gave a nod, his tone teasing, “You gonna turn me in?”

     A small smile played around your lips, “Nah.  I might need your services again.  I have a habit of getting into trouble.  Nice to know I’ve got my own personal hero on call.”

     “You call, I’ll come running.”

Two Years Later:

     “That was not our first date!”

     “We spent the entire weekend curled up in my bed, it counts.”

     “I was unconscious!”

     “Not the whole time,” Sam countered, threading his fingers through yours, “Sometimes you’d wake up.  Of course, you were delirious.  You did have some of the most creative fever dreams… what was that one about the Catholic church hiding the existence of extra-terrestrials by dressing them up like the clergy?”

     “They were hiding dinosaurs, not aliens.  Tiny dinosaurs under their creepy old lady robes.  And still, not a date.  I think you’ll find most dating experts would agree with me on this.”

    “Dating experts?”

     “Your brother.”

     Sam huffed out a laugh, “Don’t be fooled by the rumors, he’s not the Casanova everyone thinks he is.”

     “I dunno, guy gets a lot of dates.”

     “First dates.  Ask him about his batting average for second dates.”

     “Oh yeah?  Got him beat, do you?”

     “Hands down.”

     Sam curled a finger under your chin and brought his lips down to meet yours.  You hummed happily as an electric spark zinged all the way down to your toes.  It was crazy that even after two years he still managed to excite you with just a touch, or a look.  You never had to doubt his feelings for you, he wore them openly and proudly.  He never missed the opportunity to hold your hand in the grocery store or to wrap his arm around your shoulders at the movies.   A kiss to the temple, a hand at the small of your back.  Every touch was filled with the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day.  Every night was filled with the heat and passion of desire that could never be sated. 

     You leaned into Sam’s side as he guided the two of you down the winding path that cut through the willows.  “So, tell me Doctor Winchester, why haven’t I been to your family’s estate before?”

     “I wouldn’t call it an estate, it’s just a few acres.”

     “I don’t care if it’s a patch of dead grass… you have horses!  Horses, Sam!  I’ve wanted to go horseback riding since I was ten.”

     “We might be able to squeeze in a lesson for you before we head home.”

     “Really?!”

     “I’ll bet you’re a natural, you’re already an expert with a riding crop,” he whispered in your ear.

     “Sam!”  You admonished him, instantly turning red, “That was a one time!”

     “Best birthday ever.  And to answer your question; you haven’t been here before because I was waiting.”

     The path curved and opened up to a decent sized pond.  A dock jutted out onto the clear, still waters and ended in an elaborate gazebo.  Painted a picturesque white and topped with a copper finial, hundreds of tiny fairy lights hung from the rafters glittering with magic and romance. 

     “Oh wow,” you breathed, following Sam down the planks.  “This is like something out of a book.  God, it’s beautiful!”

     “My parents built this place from the ground up.  Mom had this vision in her head about a pond where she could come and watch ducks.  Teach her kids to swim and fish.  So, one summer, Dad started digging.  I don’t think he even had a plan, all the neighbors thought he was crazy!  But he was stubborn and determined.  And he loved my mom more than anything.”

     You walked out to the end of the platform and leaned out on the railing.  Dragonflies danced along the surface of the water as the sun began to set and the crickets started to sing.  “He did a great job.  Did he build the gazebo too?”

     “Anniversary present,” he confirmed, joining you by the railing.  “This was my favorite spot when I was a kid.  Dean loved the garage, hanging with Dad and tearing apart trucks with the radio blasting.  I couldn’t stand the noise, so I’d come out here.  Even in the winter.”

     Suddenly, a swan flew down and landed in the middle of the water.  Graceful and noble, it glided across the water sending the slightest of ripples out in its wake.  As it turned, you could see a single black feather against the white of its tail. 

     “Oh!  I’ve never seen a swan with one black feather.”

     “He’s always had it, never could figure out why.  He showed up when I was ten and just never left.  I call him Solomon.”

     “Is it just him?  I thought swans always paired up?”  

     “Well, that’s the thing, they do have mates for life, but he showed up alone.  And I know it sounds silly, but he was mopey.  He didn’t take a lot of interest in anything; he didn’t interact with the ducks or even pay any attention to me when I tried to feed him.  He was sad.  Some animals grieve and I think he was grieving for his lost mate.”

     “Poor guy,” you murmured, watching as Sam took a packet of birdseed from his pocket and tossed a bit out on the water. 

     “When I left for college, Solomon migrated and didn’t come back in the spring.  I thought I’d seen the last of him, but then I got a call from Mom this past summer.  He was back and he brought someone with him.”

     As if on cue, a second swan swooped down and landed beside Solomon.  Pure white and just as lovely.  They looked like a postcard, gliding on the sunlit water.

     “You’re kidding!  He found another mate?  I didn’t know swans would do that!”

     “Some do, special cases.  And Solomon’s no fool, he might have been content to be alone forever, but when that right one came along, he snapped her up.”

     “That’s amazing!”  You turned to Sam with a beaming grin, but stopped short when you realized he wasn’t standing there beside you.  He was kneeling. 

     “Sam.”

     He took both of your hands in his, tipping his face back to gaze up at you with such tenderness and devotion it made your breath catch.

     “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time.  I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to look, but the words never came.  Everything I wrote seemed inadequate.  Even the word love falls short.  It’s not enough, it’s not big enough.  Being with you is a revelation, Y/N.  You call me your hero, but baby… it’s the other way around.  You rescued me.”

     Tears had already gathered in your eyes when he pulled out a blue velvet box.  A diamond solitaire sparkled inside like a star in the sky. 

     “I don’t know if I’ll ever have the words, but I swear to show you.  To treasure you, to make your happiness my mission.  To answer your call and to love you for all my days.”

     You dropped down to your knees and tackled him.  Your arms flung around his neck, nearly knocking him over in your enthusiasm.   He caught you with a laugh and kept the two of you from tumbling off into the water.  You kissed every square inch of the face you’d loved since he first rescued you.  And you laughed.  Joy bubbled up from your heart like effervescent Champagne.

     “You astonishing,” Kiss. “Brilliant,” kiss. “Romantic,” kiss, kiss. “Beautiful,” kiss, kiss, kiss.

     “Y/N… baby…”

     “Yes?” Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

     His hands wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back slightly so he could look into your eyes.  He traced the curve of your face, fondly tucking your hair behind your ear.  You were always moving, always racing towards everything in life.  It was something he loved about you, your exuberance.  Your passion!  You burned so bright, his light even on the darkest days. 

     “Will you marry me?”

     Your brow creased in confusion before you realized, he didn’t actually say the words a moment ago.  You been so excited that he never got the chance. 

     “Yes,” you nodded, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

     Sam slipped the ring onto your finger, “Will you look at that?  Perfect fit.”

     “Guess that means you’re stuck with me now.”  You shifted so that you were sitting in his lap, your hand cupped his jaw, “I should tell you up front that I tend to get into trouble, there’s a good chance that you’ll be required to rescue me from time to time.”

     “Good thing rescuing you is my second favorite activity.”

     “Second favorite?”

     “Yeah,” he murmured against the curve of your neck, “Let me show you the front runner.”

     Before long, Sam had swept you away in a haze with his deft fingers and clever tongue.  The title of Hero that you bestowed on him became a running joke through the years and then a loving nickname.  But that didn’t make it any less true.  He’d always been a hero, and now he was yours. TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetryy @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witchly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #95 Moving On

“Becca-Dawn,” drawled Vangie one morning over breakfast “I was thinking. Why don’t we go shopping today? And maybe a haircut?” Taken aback Becca stammered out a response. This was a big step for Evangeline. The two headed into town, jogging along the path. Becca-Dawn didn’t own a car and, as a trainer, never missed an opportunity to exercise. 

In the store Vangie struggled to put together outfits. It seemed like all the shirts were croptops, why don’t townies want to cover their stomachs? She decided that she wanted to keep pretty modest, but she was excited to try pants! Becca tried to help but a lot of her choices were too masculine for Evangeline’s tastes. In the end they had to call Penny and have her give advice over facetime.  Penny was dead on with her outfit choices. 

The next stop was the hair stylist. Vangie had cut bangs into her hair once as a child after teasing from Nina and Dina, but she’d never had a proper haircut. Her thick, dark brown hair hung far down her back when it wasn’t piled on her head and smothered in hairspray. Either way, it felt heavy on her neck and skull, causing headaches. The stylist was kind, going slow and checking with her client as he trimmed the length. Finally Vangie ended up with a cute style that ended just below her shoulders. She starting experimenting with different braids and learned to craft voluminous ponytails. 

Vangie loved all the outfits she bought! She modeled all her different looks for Becca-Dawn later that day. Each ensemble made Vangie feel beautiful and confident, and they were a mix of her favourite colours! It had been so long since there was some colour in her life.

Across town Farrah was grappling with similar thoughts. She had accepted she’d have to integrate with townie life but wanted to maintain the modesty of her faith, both old and new. She’d read all the books Jonah had given her and was now trying to make her way through the King James version of the Bible. She’d also been talking to Jonah almost every night. It sounded like he missed her. They decided to enter a long-distance courtship arrangement. This was good for Farrah, who still had to wrap her head around the concept of choosing a partner for herself.

They’d agreed that Farrah would stay with her sister until her kids were safely in her custody and emotionally stable. Then they would all move to Henford and hopefully the courtship would continue in person. AJ was surprised her sister was moving on so fast but offered support. Farrah was an adult after all, and AJ’s job was to love her family even if didn’t understand some of her sister’s choices-in love or fashion.

Likewise, Farrah didn’t understand the fashion in AJ’s family. Anna had finally aged up and was very much a teenager. She wore short, tight skirts, makeup and shirts that were down-right sluttish! She couldn’t understand why her mother would let her out of the house like that. That being said, sometimes the outfits worn by AJ raised her eyebrows too. AJ, for her part, didn’t much care what her children wore as long as they were doing well in school and kind to each other. She was grateful Farrah hadn’t been staying with them when Autumn lived there, she would have scheduled an exorcism.

Farrah was reading at the apartment when she got a phone call from a police officer, a sickly, malnourished and filthy girl had been left at a hospital in Windenburg who matched the description of one of her daughters. AJ offered to go with, but Farrah wanted to go alone to see her. She thought it'd be easier that way. She borrowed AJ's car to make the journey to Windenburg.

She was led to a small room in the hospital basement where Faith was lying on a bed. Tears welled in Farrah's eyes to see her daughter hooked up to a monitor and an iv. She looked so fragile. "Is she going to be okay?" She asked the nurse. "She's going to be fine. She's just getting some antibiotics for her infection and fluids because she's dehydrated. I'll leave you two alone for a while. Ring the buzzer if you need me." Answered the nurse before bustling down the hall.

Faith awoke about half an hour later. "Mama," She asked, rubbing her eyes, "Is it really you?" "Yes!" Wept Farrah, hugging her daughter. "You're safe now." As she regained her strength, she updated her mother and the detective on the others. "LeRoyce has been driving us all around in a filthy truck for months now. No one will agree to marry him, so he's trying to starve us into submission. I got a cut on my leg, and it got infected from all the filth. He thought I was going to die, so he dumped me here." She told them. Once her statement was taken and she recovered enough to travel, Farrah drove Faith back to Brindleton Bay.

Thankfully Alex had graduated and moved out meaning there was enough room for Faith to stay in the house as well. She set herself up in his old room while Alex pursued his biology degree from Foxbury Institute along with his cousins Ryder and Thomas. The three were planning to live in the dorms together but ended up rushing a rather loud and obnoxious fraternity and moving into the house, much to Teresa and AJ’s chagrin. 

[levi-llama]

An Ultimatum (Part 2)

David Rossi x Fem!Reader / Part Two

Part Two

Chapter rating: Mature (Just in case)

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of abuse, Violence, Kidnapping (DM me if I missed any)

Word Count: 1.2k

(A/N: I left you on a cliffhangerrr! I had to cut it so this chapter wouldn't go on too long,the next chapter will be out tomorrow don't worry! Yes, I know I'm evil.)

Masterlist

Taglist

Chapter Two

—

Rushing to the precinct at the speed of light, you both arrived at the nick of time. Last ones there, but not by much.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Hotch cleared his throat of his groggy sleep. It was nearly 03:00, which truly showed how urgent this was. “Our missing boy was found along the highway. He is currently resting in the hospital. Severe dehydration, minor starvation, but otherwise unharmed. JJ and Morgan brief the parents.” He turned to you and Prentiss, “You two, interview the kid.”

And with that you head to the preteen with your temporary partner.

—

The walk through the winding hospital walls was short, and some enough you both arrived before the boy and his mother.

“I’m agent Prentiss, and this is my partner.” she gestured to you, “We are with the FBI and we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions.” We turned to the boy and he nodded slowly as his mother brushed the hair out of his face.

“Did you happen to get a good look at the suspect's face?” You chime in, yet the child shook his head ‘no’. “What about hair color? Or was he tall or short?”

“Um, blonde I think, ah-and he was short. A little taller than me.”

“So around 5’3.” You muttered to yourself as you documented his answers in a notepad. “Do you remember any other important details?”

“He had some scars, they looked like a bunch of dots on his arms.”

You marked that down as well.

“Thank you so much, here’s my card, if you remember anything please don’t hesitate to call.” Prentiss gave a soft smile and a nod before the both of you headed out of the hospital room, and back to the BAU’s temporary office.

—

Back at the office, you present the information to the team.

“Scars in the shape of dots?” Morgan rubbed his goatee with his hand as he repeated your words aloud.

Reid suddenly blurted as his mind went a mile a minute. “You know, the scars might be a sign of Dermotillomania. Did the unsub have a history of drug use? Specifically hard drugs such as heroine or Methamphetamines?”

“Dermo-what?” JJ piped in, visibly confused.

“Dermotillomania, in other words, skin picking.” He responded matter-of-fact.

“But there’s no other signs of possible drug use in our victim. He’s too organized to be on hard drugs.” Hotch added.

“Uh- what about cigarette burns? I mean, we know he was severely abused as a child, so that might be the most plausible explanation of the dots.” You slightly rose your hand as you shared your thoughts on the subject.

“You may be right, agent.” Hotch brought his phone up and put it on speaker, “Hey Garcia, can you look up households that were ordered wellness checks in the early 90’s to early 2000’s. Cross check those with houses with possible cigarette residue.”

“On it, lovelies!” She exclaimed confidently before hanging up.

Rossi made his way towards you and patted you on the back once, you returned with a small smile. “Good job, kid.” He gave a small smirk, but before the team could exit the conference room, the local police chief rushed in.

“There’s been another abduction!” She panted breathlessly before moving to the board on the other side of the room and taping up a picture of a ginger-haired boy. “Benji Roberts, age 11, called in at 1:34 this afternoon.”

“That’s three hours ago!” Prentiss cursed.

“We might have a witness. They said they saw Benji get into a dark green mini van. Got a partial plate.”

Morgan called Garcia in a stumbling rush.

“Hey, dark and handsome, what can I do for you?”

“Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh-uhhh.. hi everyone whatcha got for me?”

“A partial plate: 9856.” the chief responded.

“Cross check that with what you already have Garcia.” Hotch ordered.

“I’ve got a hit! A one Nicholas Godfrey. He fits the criteria, purchase history shows he had a debilitating nicotine addiction, child protective services was called to his house four times, but always deemed it safe. Full plate number is 985677.” She paused, “Uh-wait. He’s deceased.”

“When did he pass?” Morgan inquired.

“About 7 weeks ago.”

“So when the abductions started.” Morgan sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand. “Does he have a son?”

“Oh! Yes! The son’s name is Justin Godfrey, current address is the same as his fathers, he inherited it in his fathers will. 9223 N. Brines Ave.”

“Everyone! Suit up and head out!” Hotch yelled.

—

We stormed the house, he was with the kid in the basement. Grabbing the boy roughly, and holding a knife to his thought as you moved down the steps, Rossi and Read hot on your tail.

You holstered your gun, showed your hands to the man. Tried to literally and figuratively disarm the situation. “Justin! You don’t have to harm that boy. I know you went through something, no boy should ever have to go through! You’re father did unspeakable acts, but you don’t have to be like him! You don’t have to hurt anyone else! He’s gone! Your father is gone! You are free from his torment. You can speak without fear!” His knife lowered briefly, so you took the liberty to take a few small steps towards him. The knife pointed out to you, to silently signal you to stop moving, then back to the poor, trembling kid’s throat. “Okay, okay, I’ll stay right here, but the boy doesn’t have to. His name is Benji Roberts, he has a loving family! You had what you always wanted! You don’t want to ruin that for another boy, like your father did to you, do you?” He shook his head no, before looking to the floor. “So can you give the boy here? Can you let Benji go back to his loving family? Please, Justin?”

The knife lowered and Benji ran into your arms. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“I want my daddy!” The boy sobbed into your neck, but your eyes widened as you saw the unsub’s demeanor switch instantly.

The mention of a father figure must’ve triggered him. He lunged at the boy, but you threw the boy to Rossi, and dodged the knife the best you could. The blade nicking your shoulder as you did so.

Reid jumped the kidnapper before he could do any more damage, pinning him to the ground as he cuffed him. You kicked the knife out of his reach.

—

A medic was called to the scene. A blanket around Benji’s shoulder as his parents reunited with him. Thankfully the boy was unharmed.

You sat on the edge of the ambulance as a paramedic put a few stitches in your shoulder.

Rossi approached the car as the wrappings were put on your wound. “How you holding up?”

“Never better!” You winced as you moved your arm to your lap.

“I’m ready to go back to our hotel room. Aren’t you?”

“Our hotel room?” You smirked suggestively at the older man as you noticed his sly wording.

__

Part One / Part Three

__

Tags:

@scootscootcoochcooch

@yourlittlemisswinchester-blog

@booksmoviesandanimals2

[seokiloquy]

Pearlescent Pt 3 - Iwaizumi Hajime

Au: Merpeople

Requested (kind of)

Tags/Warnings: GN!reader, Swearing, minor character death (age).

Word Count: 1.9k+

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5

“We have to go visit your grandmother this weekend.”

“We?” You asked your mom over the kitchen table. “I sort of had things planned, but I suppose I could do them another time.”

Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t mind. A day away wouldn’t hurt.

“Just Saturday. You can have Sunday to do whatever. We’ll just need extra hands.”

“Ah.” Boxes pilled up in the living room. Your mom had begun packing over the course of your time visiting her, and they were adding up. “So it’s almost time, then?”

“Afraid so.”

You took a slow breath in and looked down at your half-finished breakfast. Quickly, you swallowed another bite. “It’s to be expected. People age, grow old, forget, then waste away before they die.”

“Your grandmother isn’t wasting away. She’s just… tired.”

“Mom. It’s okay. I don’t know her all that well anyways.”

“I know. Maybe you would have known her better if your father hadn’t just disappeared and I was less bullheaded. But it’s okay to be sad about it. I know I am.” She finished her last bite of food, dropping her plates by the sink before chugging down a glass of water.

“It’s not that I’m trying not to be sad. It’s more that I’ve gone through the grieving process already. I already knew.”

Your mom sighed, picking up your plate and stacking it on top of hers while you lifted up your last piece and plopped it into your mouth. She sniffled, looking over her shoulder. “She’s the last bit of your father that is around. While we’re there, how about you keep her company? Ask questions. It’ll keep her distracted while I move things out.”

“She’s not dead yet.” You chuckled.

“I know, but… there won’t be much time for us to stick around here when she goes.” Her phone rang. “Time to go to school. I got to take this call.”

Before you ran out the door, you refilled your glass and chugged back every last drop with a satisfied sigh.

Hanni was wrapped over your shoulder when you got to class, panting from running down the hall to get inside before the bell. Like normal, everyone was chattering.

You huffed. “Do you have water?”

“Yep.” Hanni reached into the open pocket of her bag to pull out a large sports bottle, placing it on your desk.

Trying to catch your breath, you dipped your head back and began to swallow it, some dripping onto your cheeks and running down your neck. When you got up for breath, it was over half empty.

“Did you run a marathon?” she chuckled.

“Just down the hallway,” you whined. “I think I’m just dehydrated.”

“Maybe I should toss you into the ocean.”

Gulping back a dry swallow, your eyes blew open while a frown pulled on the corners of your mouth. Your heart thundered in your chest. “Huh? W–where would you get that idea!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking. You can’t swim, and the ocean is salt water. You’d just get more dehydrated.”

“Right… right. Please don’t throw me in the ocean.”

“I won’t. Now, if you finish my water. You’ve got to refill it. I need it for practice later.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Stamina training. We’re running around town.”

“Hmm.” 

Hanni was a childhood friend you’ve known since your dad was around. A neighbour to your grandmother, but closer to the high school than your grandmother's house was. When you’d come to visit, she’d be there ready to spend whatever time you had together. Though, when your father disappeared, there seemed to be less reason to visit. 

The teacher started attendance.

Hanni was also very active. Very suitable for the town filled with hiking trails, big grass fields, gyms, and beaches that never have too many people on a regular day.

With Hanni busy and you unable to go to the beach on Saturday, maybe going to the water today was the best option. Sucking in a breath of air, you steeled yourself in your decision, raising a hand as your name was called for attendance.

You filled Hanni’s water bottle up for the fourth time at the end of the school day, handing it off to her while she got her gear on before you could empty it for a fifth time. You waved goodbye, and once she was out of sight, you sprinted in the opposite direction toward the beach.

When you got to the shore, you felt like a wilting plant. It was tempting to jump into the ocean and soak your uniform, but you managed to fight off the idea. Rushing into the public bathroom, you changed into your school swimsuit. You stuffed the clothes into your bag and walked out of the stall and onto the sand, shivering slightly from the breeze. Being just after school and work hours still going, there wasn’t anyone around. You took your time tiptoeing through the warm sand. You could hide your things in the little alcove and tuck your bag between rocks so it would get lost, not that anyone here would steal it.

With the beach empty, you dared approach the water by the main beach, and not the spot you usually went to beet Iwaizumi. A small dock stretched into the water, far enough that if people didn't have the energy to swim back, they could climb onto it. You took it as your walkway.

At the end, the water was at least two metres deep. You gulped, waiting for any sign of Iwaizumi to appear. It seemed that by touching the water, he would be alerted of your presence because after getting tired of standing, you sat down, dipping your toes into the ocean, his head appeared, grinning at you above the gentle waves.

Smiling at him, you lifted your feet from the tingling water and got to your feet, readying yourself to jump.

“(Y/N), STOP!”

You were already in the air, turning your head to see Hanni sprinting down the dock. Her expression, the most horrified one you’ve ever seen on her, was a blur, before disappearing behind the surface of the cold ocean water.

Iwaizumi was at your side instantly, pulling you back as another burst of bubbles appeared in your place. “She jumped.” Iwaizumi cursed. “And you’ve transformed.”

The bubbles cleared, and Hanni floated, hair billowing out from her ponytail, squinting through the salt water. Eyes wide, she screamed, and it cut through the water like a harpoon.

Iwaizumi dragged you and Hanni toward the rocks. No one is diving, and he lifts Hanni onto the ledge so she can catch her breath. You follow, lifting yourself onto the rock like Iwaizumi does, and he copies.

“Oh Fuck!” Hanni gasps for air. “You’re fucking fish.”

You chuckled. “I said the same thing.”

“Merpeople,” Iwaizumi corrected, brows pinching, “Oikawa is going to give me hell for this.”

“There’s more fish?!”

“Merpeople!”

“(Y/N), what the hell?!”

You shrugged, wincing at the volume of her voice. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“(L/N) is descended from mer. I had a hunch when we met.”

“Is that why you gave me the pearl?”

Iwaizumi gulped. “Not really. Anyways—”

“How the fuck does that work? Did someone fuck a fish?”

“A dolphin, and we hope not.”

“Oh my god, this is horrifying.” Hanni looked off to the horizon with a grimace. “Is that why you can’t swim?”

“I—” You stopped, blinking. “I don’t know. I was never taught in the first place.”

“Transformations only happen in ocean water. Fresh water and pools won’t do it.” Iwaizumi supplied.

“Then I really don’t know. Wait, do you transform?”

“Everyone does.”

“What?”

Hanni continued to look aghast, eyes flicking between you and Iwaizumi. “The stories are real. Why didn’t mom tell me?”

“Stories?” you asked, tail flicking behind you.

“Because there’s a population of mers by the town, there are a few folk tales,” Iwaizumi supplied.

“Ya, of sirens dragging unsuspecting people into the water to never be seen again.”

“Huh…” you blinked.

“We don’t drag them.”

“So you admit it!”

“They come voluntarily! They usually don’t stay either. Only a few do.”

You tilted your head. “So, do you go to school?”

“Of course. I go to—”

Hanni glared. “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. I’m beating your team into a pulp.”

“Note taken.”

Oikawa popped his head out of the water. “Ooh, more people! Do I get to sing away the memory this time?”

“You’re tone deaf. I doubt it would work.”

As the two began to argue, your mind began to wander.

There was a call from over the rocks. The club supervisor of Hanni’s team was climbing up.

“I’ll uh...keep the secret.” Hanni rushed to her feet. “(Y/N)’s my best friend. I’d do anything, but I’ve got to go or else more people will know.”

Still soaking wet. Hanni climbed quickly over the rocks, not even pausing for a second. You watched her go, ignoring the boys bickering behind you.

On Saturday you sat by your grandmother's bed while your mother rushed around and spoke with the staff. The frail woman just hummed a breathy tune with her eyes closed and a smile on her face.

Nursing homes felt like the buildings were ageing with the people inside them. Yellowing walls, quiet halls, and the occasional light footsteps you’d hear in the hallways. The only room where there was more noise was the activity room. With tables, chairs, and TVs it was where most of the elderly liked to be so they could interact with each other or get entertained by a family that was there to visit.

Your grandmother preferred to sit in her wheelchair and look out the window toward the water. She was there, back to you and your scurrying mother, while you sipped eagerly on another bottle of water.

“I’m going to talk to the front desk. I’ll be back in a bit. Keep her occupied.” Your mother shut the door behind her.

Gulping back another sip, you changed your seat to be situated by the window next to your grandmother. The sunlight was making her white hair look golden. She kept her eyes on the water. She stopped humming.

“It’s magnetic isn’t it? The sea. I guess that's why they always go back.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pardon?”

“What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

You gulped another sip. “The sea being magnetic.”

“Well, you should know.”

“I have no idea if you’re trying to be cryptic or just like this.”

“You have to have a little fun when you get old.”

“Pleasant. Thank you for the enlightening conversation.”

She chuckled a little, coughing, before reaching for the back of her neck. “You never know who's watching in these walls. But there’s always something to share. So you must get it out anyway.”

“I mean, I guess?”

“Take this.” From her neck, she pulled a necklace, dropping it clumped into your hand.

Your brow pinched, studying the accessory that was attached. “A pearl?”

“Your mother has one too. From when she met my son down by the water.” Her wrinkled grin was sharp, cunning. “Take good care of them.”

Wrapping the jewellery around your neck, you set yours and your grandmother’s pearl next to each other on your chest.

You spent the night studying the pair, watching them shimmer under the yellow light of your grandmother's old living room lamp. There was a sinking feeling in your chest as you watched them.

She was gone by morning. 

Don’t you love death as a plot device? -Bacon

Posted: 15/01/2023

[imtheasssniffer]

(Heads up: this story contains major scat, physical abuse, rape, and kidnapping fantasies. Read at your own risk. Sorry if this isn’t your type of story. It’s not even really my type of story. I just felt like diversifying my page for you sickos. Plus I was in a mood.)

Big Boy

You watched in fear as he flexed his bicep. You saw his muscle flex. Growing to an intimidating size. Same for the muscle bulging in his underwear. Slowly getting larger as he watched the fear in your eyes get stronger. He chuckled, knowing that you were completely terrified of what he’d do to you. He owned you. Ever since he picked you off the street. He’s been torturing you in violent and disgusting ways. Forcing you to endure every single aspect of his body. Not only the force it could exert, the smells it could produce, but also the waste he could excrete.

Everyday, ever since he stole you from the world, and completely robbed you of your humanity. He found even more ways to torture you. More creative and dehumanizing ways to put you down. He got off on making you feel like nothing. That’s why when you flinched at his flexed arm, his dick started to get harder.

“Kiss it,” he said slapping his bicep.

“Come on. I don’t want to wait,” he continued. You moved towards his arm, and planted your lips onto his muscles. Kissing him softly, afraid to be too harsh, or too lenient. He planted his meaty hand on the back of your head, and patted your scalp. Your fear somewhat subsided, until you felt him clench your hair, and pull you back. You landed on the floor completely shocked. The terror filled your eyes again, and he just got even more hyped.

He pounced on top of you. Using his left hand to crush the back of your skull against the floor, and his right to punch you in the face. It felt like your head was going to cave in from the pressure his body weight exerted on top of you. Not to mention the fact that his punch felt like it completely unhinged your jaw. You felt your cheek get warm, and start to swell up, but even before you could react he spit onto your face, and then slapped you hard. You gasped from the brutishness, and by the time you finished inhaling he had backed up, and let go of your skull. Before cupping both of his hands together, and forcefully punching your gut, like he was spiking a volleyball at the olympics. You wheezed as all of the air left your body. You heard him chuckle in ecstasy above you, and the slight anger you felt was quickly replaced by nausea, as the weight of the blow made you weakly throw up on the floor beside you.

“You miserable bitch. Now you’re making a mess on my floor?” He stated in a harsh, but somewhat joking matter. Before you could even react to him. He grabbed your throat and squeezed. You clawed at his hands, and tried to unhinge his meaty fingers from around your neck, but his grasp wasn’t letting go. After over a minute of laying there losing consciousness, he let go. Watching you gasp for air. He was so powerful. He even controlled the air that you breathed. He knew this. That’s why he pulled out his dick, and started slowly jerking.

“Yknow I gotta take a piss, and since you already messed up my floor. I might as well add my own mess to it,” he said menacingly. You already knew what this meant. It wasn’t the first time he peed on you. Hell it wouldn’t even be the first he made you drink it, but you were still completely disgusted.

He stood up above you. Forcing you to see how big he was, as he towered over your feeble, weak, wheezing body on the floor. You watched as he stroked his cock a couple more times, before pointing it down at you, and letting go. He wasn’t lying. He really did have to take a piss. It was warm and fragrant, and it lasted a long time. Clearly he was enjoying it. He rained down on your face at first. Getting some in your mouth, then he moved down to your chest. Going in little loopty-loops, and moaning at the release. He pointed down to where he punched your stomach. Further highlighting the warmth of the bruising he had caused.

“Damn, looks like I’m dehydrated.” He was enjoying making a show, of releasing every single last drop onto you. Spurting out just a little more. Over and over agin, until his dick ran completely dry. The room smelt like urine. It was devastating.

“I want you to clean this shit up,” he menacingly demanded. You started to painfully get up, but he squatted over you and planted a hand on your chest. He shoved you roughly onto the floor.

“Not yet!”

You watched as he peeled his underwear fully off, and then turned around. Hovering his ass over your face.

“Open wide!” You grimaced at the thought of what was about to happen. You begged,

“Please, no.” You heard a sinister chuckle, and then he demanded again,

“Open your damn mouth, or I’ll beat your jaw open!” Knowing that he had every intention of keeping his word. You complied. Opening your mouth widely. He looked back at you, and grumbled,

“Good.” He fell onto your face. Crushing your skull onto the hardwood floor once again. His asshole sat over your mouth, pulsing, pushing. You groaned into his ass, and he chuckled again. He did it. He made you a lower life form. You were his toilet now, and you had no say in the matter.

PPprRRTtTttT

A wet fart boomed into your mouth and echoed down your cheeks. It lasted 3 seconds and reeked. You heard him laugh, as his farts filled your mouth. He hovered over you again. Leaving a few inches between your face and his hole.

BblLaaRRtT

His fart was more wet this time. It was getting sloppier.

“Here she comes bitch. She’s a big one.” You didn’t want to look, but when you heard the squelching of his ass hole. You became compelled to see what was leaving his insides. Instant regret washed over you, as you saw a large brown log leave his ass. He let out a determined grunt, and then it started to rush out. It eventually touched your tongue, which caused you to instantly gag at its rancid taste. Before long. The huge, long turd plopped into your mouth. With a sick wet sloppy noise. It filled your mouth to the brim.

“Eat it up cunt. I got more for you.” You watched again as his hole opened, and another large, beefy, brown log began to push its way out. You couldn’t seriously eat that. Could you? His shit smelled like beef jerky and manure. Pretty much what you’d expect a truck stop bathroom to smell like. It was rancid, but the smell couldn’t prepare you for the taste. The intensity of the flavor, when it first touched your tongue was vile. Truly the worst thing he’d ever forced you to endure. You only grew more disgusted, as you were forced to chew, and swallow the disgusting shit. Begrudgingly sinking your teeth into the solid muddy slime. You swallowed in chunks, not wanting to chew all the way. You weren’t even able to finish swallowing the first by the time the second plopped into your mouth. You felt like you were drowning.

“Ahh. Fuck. Looks like there’s no toilet paper. Do you mind?” he asked just before scratching his hole on the bridge of your nose.

“Well shit, it looks like the toilet’s clogged.” He smiled over you. Further belittling you. He turned around and looked down at you again.

“Here let me help,” he said, as he stroked his clock and rammed it into your shit filled mouth.

“Aww. I didn’t expect that to feel so good.”

You felt sick. You could vomit again at any moment. What made matters worse, was that he was shoving shit down your throat. Using his dick as a ram for his feces to go deeper down your throat, choking you. He just kept forcing his dick into your mouth, deeper and deeper. You hated to think it, but it was actually helping you to swallow his shit.

“Ohh, damn.” He moaned above you,

“I’m one nasty fuck,” he giggled. As you finished ingesting his shit. His dick thrusted deeper into your throat. He wasn’t letting you catch your breath. You laid helpless on the floor, as he roughly fucked your throat. When he finally reached his climax, he pulled his dick from inside of you and erupted onto your face.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed as he shot ropes of cum onto you. He panted softly over you, and then looked down into your eyes.

“Go clean yourself up, and then clean this damn room.” He slapped your face and continued,

“You did a good job.” You slowly got up and went to the bathroom. You immediately started to wash your mouth, and face, when you heard him say,

“Next time we’re doing it human centipede style. Less mess.” You began to silently weep, as you accepted that this was now your life.

[holylulusworld]

The B*tch

Title: The b*tch

Summary: It’s a game for you and Bucky. Sometimes you even burn a whole town down if you must.

Square Filled ‘Second Chances’ for: @buckybingo​​

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Dot, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, love-hate relationship (toxic relationship), public blowjob (light), light fingering, mentions of anal sex (nothing happens, no description), mentions of infidelity/break-up, implied/mentions of threesome/foursome, smut, unprotected sex, public sex, forced voyeurism, possessive Bucky, hair pulling, roughness, implied character’s death, therapy, roleplay

Words: 5,3k

2021 BUCKY BINGO masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

A/N: Please head the warnings. The reader and Bucky have a toxic relationship in this. Both are awful people.

“Steve, tell your boss to keep his bitch in line,” you growl, tapping your glass to order another drink. The bartender smirks, watching Steve Rogers, the right-hand man of the most feared man in Brooklyn cower in front of you. “This is my club, and I don’t like hussies at my club, nor whores.”

“Doll, don’t make a fuss,” Steve tries. “I know you and Buck got a war of roses going on, but he didn’t think much of bringing that girl here.”

“I said, I don’t want his whores at my club,” you whip your head to meet Steve’s eyes, narrowing your eyes. “And I don’t mean girls making money with riding dick. I like prostitutes, Stevie. They are always polite and know how to dress. Suzie over there works here every night.”

“Y/N, stop right now. You know every club pays Bucky good money. Every club except for you,” Steve warns.

“I don’t give two shits on Barnes. I make the rules here,” Steve doesn’t like you slide your hand over your thigh, patting the hidden knife. He knows you love to wear a knife strapped against your thigh beneath your crimson silky robe. 

He follows the motion, eyes glued to the slit in your dress, revealing your thigh and the tattoo on it. The one you will remove soon enough.

“Still got the tattoo, doll? I knew you can’t get rid of me completely,” a smug grin on his lips, and a dopily smiling Dot on his arm Bucky waltz toward you as if he owns the club.

“Oh, the trash made it out of the house,” you batt your eyelashes, chuckling lightly. “Didn’t think she can walk on her own.” turning around to face the bartender you give her a sweet smile. “What do you think, Wanda, doll. Does that woman look like she should be at my club?”

“I don’t know, boss,” Wanda smirks. While refilling your drink, she looks at Dot, shrugging as she doesn’t want to get in trouble with Bucky. “I’m not into cheap chicks.”

“Give me two cherries,” you coo, ignoring Bucky fumes right next to you. “Maybe give Steve water to make sure he doesn’t dehydrate. He looks so pale tonight. We don’t want him to get sick.”

“On its way, boss,” snickering Wanda pours Steve water, relieved she doesn’t have to talk about Bucky’s latest arm candy.

“Steve, tell my ex to shut her nasty mouth before I stuff it,” Bucky barks orders at Steve before he sits next to you on his favorite barstool, the one he used to occupy when you still were a thing.

“You wish,” you sip at your martini, looking anywhere but at Bucky. “Why do you come back here? There are other clubs in Brooklyn, with owners liking you, Barnes.”

“I like the atmosphere and the drinks are good,” he smirks, placing his favorite knife onto the bar top. A silent warning for you to watch your tongue. “What can you recommend?”

“To leave,” you quip, sipping at your drink.

“You know, it’s a crime to put cherries into a martini,” Bucky mutters, watching you place one of the cherries on your tongue, moaning at the taste.

“I give a shit on your opinion, Barnes. If you would excuse me now, there are tables, a dancefloor, and restrooms you can use,” you jerk your head toward Dot stand next to Steve, still grinning at you. “Take your bitch and leave me to my drink and the music.”

“Ya know,” Bucky leans closer to breathe in your neck, “you should fuck more often to get the stick out of your ass, my love.” his fingertips ghost over your back, draw circles in your skin.

“Ya know,” you get your knife out to press the tip into Bucky’s crotch before Steve can even flinch, “men like you should watch their tongue and balls. One day someone will break into your house and cut them off. Now go.”

“Little bitch.”

“I used to be your doll,” you say, a little too bitter. “Sadly, you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” you chuckle. 

“Bitch,”

“Cheating bastard,” you dip your head to glance at Dot. “You should hurry to disappoint the next woman. Maybe you will keep your promises this time – huh? Or maybe she’ll get empty promises too.”

“One day someone will cut your sharp tongue off,” you press the tip harder into his crotch, smirking when a hint of pain flashes across Bucky’s features. “Maybe I’ll be the one to do so.”

“Aw, you can’t take the pleasure away from all men in Brooklyn who want a blowjob from me. You know,” leaning closer you brush your lips over Bucky’s ear, “men love it when I use my tongue.”

Bucky shudders, remembering the way you went down on him. Teeth, lips, and tongue. “You weren’t that good.”

“What a pity,” you smirk, hiding the knife in your garter. “I just wanted to remind you how good I can blow you off.”

“You sure?” Steve chokes on his water when you slide off the barstool to pat his cock, right in front of his boss.

“What the fuck, doll?”

“Oh, you believed I wanted to suck your dick?” you chuckle. “No, I wanted to go down on your tall blonde piece of meat and show him a good time.”

“Go ahead and show Steve a good time,” Bucky challenges, watching you slowly unbuckle Steve’s belt.

You don’t care the club is crowded or that Bucky is right next to you and Steve. 

“Y/N, doll,” Steve mumbles when you slide your hand over his chest down to his abs. “Stop, you don’t want to do this.”

“Stevie,” you coo, giving his lips a peck, “you should know I do what I want, and right now,” you tug harshly at his pants, shove them down his legs, “I wanna suck your dick and show you a good time.”

Steve swallows thickly, but what can man do when a woman like you shoves her hand down his boxers to run it up and down his swelling length. 

“Oh, you are packing, sweet Steve,” you moan, hand leaving his boxers too soon to shove the fabric down his thighs.

No one at the club dares to watch you. You’re at the VIP section, the one reserved for and your friends. This part of the club only belongs to you, and you can do whatever you want without anyone spying on you.

“Doll,” Steve’s breathing quickens when you ever so slowly sink to your knees to cup his balls. “You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I can do, Stevie,” you smirk, hand fisting his cock harshly. “That’s a nice cock, a big one and I’ll worship it. Don’t you want my lips around your dick?”

“Y-yeah-“ Steve chokes out. “But B-Bucky is right next to us, doll. Can we go somewhere private?”

“No, baby,” chuckling you roughly grip Steve’s cock. “I want to prove a point, Steve, and want to choke on your cock right here and now.”

You lick over the wide head, smiling to yourself when you hear Bucky bark your name. He dangerously growls it, wants you to stop but you relax your jaw and go for the goal.

“If you dare to suck his dick, I’ll end your life,” he growls. “Y/N, I’m warning you, doll. Don’t you-“

It’s too late, you suckle at the tip of Steve’s cock, ignoring Bucky throws a tantrum.

“What, James? You told me I’m boring and you want to move on with a hotter chick. Obviously, Stevie has a different opinion and is hard as a rock for me. Now lemme get him off, he’s so hard it would be a waste to not suck his dick.”

“Stop being a brat,” fisting your hair Bucky drags you off Steve, leaves his friend panting and unsatisfied behind.

“Let go of me Barnes,” you try to swat Bucky’s hands away, but he pushes you onto the couch at the VIP section, growling low in his throat. “I wanna suck Stevie’s dick, James. Let me suck his fucking cock!”

“Be good now,” panting heavily Bucky pins your hands above your head, to hold you down. “You will not suck Steve’s cock, not before you did so with mine.”

“I won’t suck your pitiful dick,” you spit into Bucky’s face, grinning viciously when he growls low in his throat. “Now get off me! This is still my club.”

Bucky’s eyes drift toward your legs, especially the tattoo on your thigh, the one with his name on it. 

“This is still all mine, doll. Forget about Steve’s cock, mine is all you’ll get. No one in this town will ever touch you.”

“You fucker!” you try to kick Bucky but he takes the opportunity to settle between your thighs, smirks as you can feel his erection press against your thigh. “Get off me! You made sure no guy I hit on fucked me?”

“It’s the law,” Bucky breathes against your lips, “Y/N, Y/L/N is Bucky Barnes property. I laid claim on you years ago, my beloved wife.”

“The fuck! I’m not some fucking property, you dickhead,” you cry, fighting Bucky with all your strength. “I will kill you the moment you get off me. I will start with cutting your balls off and end it with carving your heart out of your chest!”

“Damn, you really want to suck Steve’s dick,” Bucky grins. He pecks your nose, snickering when you try to bite him. “Did ya hear, Stevie? Y/N wants to suck your cock so badly.”

“Barnes, get off me,” you mutter, tilting your hips to rub your core against Bucky’s erection. “Or get me off.”

“Interesting,” he smirks, eyes drifting toward your chest. “But I don’t fuck bitches,” you huff at Bucky’s words, wiggle harder in his hold.

Your stiff nipples strain against the thin fabric of your silky dress, force Bucky to remember how it felt when you pressed your sweaty body against his chest, nipples scraping his skin. 

“Then get off me, Barnes, and leave my club. Take your sweet puppy with you,” you growl. “I’m gonna find another dick to suck tonight.”

“You had to fuck with her again, didn’t you, Buck?” Steve sighs, tugging his cock back into his pants. “Damn, why didn’t you let her finish me? She’s so good at sucking dick.”

“That was a one-time thing, and we were all drunk,” Bucky growls. “And it was one of her fantasies. Y/N is not for you to touch.”

“Didn’t look like it when you encouraged her to give me a blowjob,” cursing under his breath, Steve stomps toward the car. “I had a raging hard dick.”

“Do you think I give a shit! She’s still my wife, Steve,” Bucky sneers. “If not for our friendship, you would lie six feet under right now.”

“Bastard!” tossing the divorce papers onto Bucky's desk, you scowl at him. “James, you told me you’ll sign the papers weeks ago. Now you sent them to me, unsigned and a picture of your dick glued to it.”

“I’m not going to sign that crap, kitten. And I know you loved the picture. I bet you got off looking at my dick,” leaning back in his chair Bucky roams your body with his eyes. “You look ready to get eaten in that black pencil skirt, baby doll. Why don’t you come over here and let me shove my hand down your panties?”

“Everything is a joke to you,” you roll your eyes, not in the mood for one of Bucky’s games. “You wanted out of this marriage, you got out. You can’t suddenly change your mind.”

“I can and did,” he shrugs, eying you shamelessly when you cross your legs. “What happened last night will never happen again, doll. If you ever try to let another man touch you, he’ll die. Everyone in town knows you are mine.”

“You can’t-“ you growl, hands balling into fists. “What do you want for letting me go? I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m tired of your games. Do you want my club? You can have it! Just sign the papers and I’m out of town for good.”

“You would give ‘Artemis’, the club you built out of nothing, up to be free of me?” you shrug. Nothing you can’t accomplish. When you are free of Bucky you will start anew.

“New town. New club,” Bucky huffs at your words. “It’s nothing special. People want to dance, drink, and fuck everywhere. The only difference is, there will be no James Buchanan Barnes fucking me over.”

“I did not fuck you over but fucked you thoroughly,” you scream in frustration, grasp the first thing on Bucky’s desk to throw it at him. “I even let you fuck Stevie.”

“That was a birthday gift, and you had your turn too,” getting up you want to attack Bucky, but you don’t get far. 

“Come here doll and get some,” he already grasps for your arm, moves faster than you can blink to push you onto the couch at his office.

“Get off me,” you fight with Bucky. Slap his face, tug harshly at his hair, fist his clothes before you end up on top of him. 

He has you on his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs moments later to shove your panties aside, fingers pushing inside your dripping core. “Fuck, you’re dripping for me, doll.”

“I’m just needy thanks to you, Barnes,” you growl, hands pawing at his jacket, tugging harshly. “Give me something, anything…”

“My dick?” he cocks a brow, groaning when you nod eagerly. “Just a minute baby doll,” husking the words Bucky rips your panties apart. “Lemme call Steve to join us.” He grins, revealing he tricked you again.

“Fucking asshole,” you slap his cheek harshly, growling his name. “There I believe you can act like an adult.”

“Just let me call him and he can watch me fuck you like a man,” Bucky grips your waistline, fingers digging in your flesh to hold you on top of him. “I want him to see how good I can make you feel.”

“I wanted to get off, not give your best buddy something to jerk off,” you growl, pushing against Bucky’s shoulders. “Jesus, we are a mess, Barnes.”

“I know, but I love you,” you sigh, forehead pressing against Bucky’s. “Can we not try again? I know that I fucked up, but give me another chance, doll.”

Your hands cup his face, and you breathe against him. Your forehead still touches Bucky’s heated one, and you just take a moment to feel him against you.

“I want Dot gone, not just out of your life but out of town. I don’t care if you send her to hell or Timbuktu. Just get rid of that grinning bitch,” you mutter. “If you get rid of her, we can talk again.”

“Uh-erm,” Bucky tilts his hips to press his erection into your core. “Can we still fuck? I didn’t touch Dot, I swear. Yes, I had a few flings here and there, but I know you were riding Steve’s dick over the last months.”

“What can I say – he has a nice dick,” you smirk, hands kneading the knots out of Bucky’s shoulders. “Maybe we can invite him once in a while?”

“What will I get in return?” Bucky husks, searching your eyes. “Doll?”

“You can do that thing with your thing,” a deep guttural growl leaves Bucky’s chest before you find yourself underneath the mobster, pinned to the couch.

“Give me five and I’ll get her out of town. And then, I want to do the thing with my thing in your ass.”

“Not today,” you grumble. “Get me off first and show me you’ll not stray again. If you can prove you are worth my time, you can conquer my ass.”

“I wanna-“ Bucky whines. “You better let me fuck that tight ass, doll. If not, I’ll not let you cum for months…”

“Promises…promises…”

“Bye, bye, Dottie,” you coo, waving at Steve. The tall blonde drags said woman out of her apartment, not caring Dot screams, fighting Steve with tooth and nails. “Have a nice trip!”

“Bitch!” Dot growls, screaming on the top of her lungs. “You can have that bastard back. He barely made me cum.”

“Did you fuck her?” growling the words you glare at Bucky. “James Buchanan Barnes! Did you fuck that woman?”

“Maybe a little?” Bucky shrugs, rubbing his hands over your arms, grinning sheepishly. “I was barely inside, ya know.”

“What the fuck! There is no ‘I was barely inside’, James. You were inside and fucked her or you weren’t,” you punch his chest harshly. “There is no halfway!”

“Fine, I fucked her ass,” your husband grumbles. “What can I say? We were on a break, and I was lonely.”

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me you were lonely, Barnes,” pushing against his shoulders you ignore Steve tries to drag you off his friend. “Good thing I rode Steve’s dick excessively. Damn, he was so good!”

“If you don’t stop talking about Steve’s dick I’ll let him fuck you right here, in front of all my men! Maybe I’ll let them have a turn too – huh? All of them!” Bucky threatens, not liking the grin on your lips.

“Oh, please! As if I didn’t already fuck all of your men! Sam was the first I blew off in your car! He tasted like a goddamn popsicle!”

“Lying bitch!” Bucky is in your face, breathes heavily when you exclaim Thor had you on your husband’s desk, followed by his raven-haired brother. “You didn’t fuck my men!”

“I did and if I want to, I’ll do it again. Right here. Right now. All of them in all my holes,” you jab your finger into Bucky’s chest, snickering when he wraps his metal hand around your throat.

“You better think before you speak to me again,” he growls. “Get in my car and shut your mouth.”

“Aw, don’t you want one of your men to shut my mouth with his dick?” you retort, laughing when Bucky roughly shoves you toward his car to bend you over the hood.

“You want to act like a whore, I’ll show you what you’ll get,” Steve tries to stop his friend when Bucky rips your dress down your body, followed by your panties.

“Oh, do you want to fuck me, or will you ask a real man to do so?” laughing manically you spread your legs. “I’m ready for all of them, James.”

“Fucking bitch,” he unzips his pants, impatiently getting his dick out. “I’m gonna fuck you right here for all my men to see.”

“Promises again-“ you giggle, not missing Steve tries to stop his friend. “Will ya fuck me now or shall I ask one of your men?”

“Shut up,” his cock slaps against your ass, and his men turn around, not wanting to peak on you getting fucked. “If anyone takes his eyes off my wife, he’ll fuck her after me!”

“Did you just offer my pussy to all of your men? Naughty, James,” you grin, imagining getting filled by all of Bucky’s men. “Damn, yes.”

“I might add, anyone putting their hands on my wife will die, slow and painful!” you whine, disappointed you’ll only get Bucky’s dick. “Now shut the fuck up and just take my dick like a good girl.”

“Aw, you still think I’m a good girl, Bucky. That’s so sweet of you,” giggling you tap your fingers onto the hood. “Will I get your dick now or do you have performance issues in front of your men?”

“Fucking bitch,” his metal hand roughly fists your hair, presses your face into the cool surface of his car, gives you a stark contrast to his hot cock that nudges at your slit. “I hope you are wet because I don’t care if it hurts for you.”

“Bastard,” filled to the brim seconds later you struggle to breathe. Bucky is not gentle by all means, he roughly grips your shoulders, holds you down like you are nothing but a hole to fill. “Fuck me like a man, if you can.”

“Buck, can we not leave,” Steve grumbles, eyes glued to your body pressed to the car. He would never tell anyone so, but Steve loves to fuck a girl on a car. 

“Watch and maybe, you’ll get a turn too. Sloppy seconds and all,” Sam tries to not look, knowing Bucky is too engrossed in starting to fuck into you. Brock on the other hand rubs his hand over his dick, listening to all the noises you make for your husband.

“Buck, this goes too far,” you moan loudly, feeling Bucky speed up. He doesn’t care if you get off or enjoy the ride; he simply wants to lay claim on your body again. “Bucky!”

“You’ll watch me fuck my wife, Sam,” Bucky moves his hands to your hips, holds your body in a tight grip. “I dare you to look away.”

“Bucky likes to have an audience while we fuck,” you quip, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to meet Steve’s darkened eyes. “Look at you Steve, so hard while your best buddy fucks his wife.

“Can you stop flirting with Steve?” Bucky starts to drag you onto his length, groans with every harsh thrust. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to not let you cum.”

“Don’t challenge me, Barnes!” while you bicker with your husband, his men silently sneak toward their cars, leave you to your coupling. “You better make me cum!”

“Little bitch wants to dictate my life,” he ruts into you, hands pawing at your flesh. “My doll wanted to fuck Stevie, and I let her. But then I want to fuck Natasha and she freaks out.”

“As you didn’t ask me to do so! You fucked her in our bed, and she wore one of my dresses,” you growl, pushing back onto Bucky’s length. “All those bitches, you fucked them on our bed. I would’ve never fucked Steve on our bed!”

“Hypocrite!”

“Cheater!”

“Fucking cum.”

“I’m trying but you lost your mojo,” you pant, smirking at Steve. He’s the last man standing – or rather the only guy watching you and Bucky fuck. 

“Steve, make a mental note. We will put my wife in the dungeon and play with her all night long,” whimpering you look at Steve, imagining all the cruel things both men will do to you. 

“Please.”

“Cum and I’ll hurt you so good…”

“I forgot we got a freaking sex dungeon,” you roll on your back, stretching your sore body. “So, who’s going to get me food?”

“Steve?”

“I don’t feel my legs, Buck,” Steve groans. “How about you go, and I’ll just lie here, ignoring my sore dick.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you tut. “I only tried to show you a good time. How should I know you can’t take it?”

“Stevie, if you want to keep up with my wife, you must train your dick,” Bucky snickers, looking around the room to find his pants. “Sam, why are you still on the floor?”

“I need a break,” Sam pants, glancing at Bucky who ushers toward the door to unlock it. “I never thought I will ever not want sex.”

“Aw, my sexy soft bear can’t get up from the floor, Bucky,” you sigh deeply, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you hear me?” the female asks, disturbing your moment of silence. “Mrs. Barnes, did you hear me?”

Your eyes snap open and you feel the heat creep into your cheeks. Your therapist looks at you, expectantly, waiting for you to answer her question. “What did you imagine?”

“I-I,” you sigh, realizing you daydreamed once again. “To pay him back and, have some fun,” you sniff now. 

“How did you do it? Who are you when you pay him back?” she asks. “Describe the person you are in your dreams.”

“When I imagine paying my husband back, I’m sexy and wild. Not meek and boring. If only I was a little more like that woman, he would’ve never found someone better, sexier, and more interesting.”

“Mrs. Barnes, you are not boring nor unsexy. Men cheat on their women for other reasons,” she tuts. “We talked about your low self-esteem.”

“Doesn’t change the fact she’s a ten and I’m a two, maybe even a one,” you sniffle. “I guess he will file for divorce soon enough to marry that woman. I can’t do anything and feel so helpless. What can I do? Bucky doesn’t love me anymore, maybe he never did.”

There is a knock on your therapists’ door, causing her to frown. “Just a minute, Mrs. Barnes. I wonder who dares to disturb our session.”

“It’s okay,” you give her a soft smile. “I can open it for you, and you can make some more notes.”

“We need to talk,” when you open the door, Bucky stands in front of you, panting heavily, an envelope with papers in his hands. You assume he wants to deliver the divorce papers today, so you nod silently.

“Okay, come in,” defeated you open the door a bit wider to let Bucky inside. “Let’s get this over with.”

You walk toward the couch, holding back the tears while Bucky strips his coat off, tossing it onto the couch, ignoring your therapist completely.

“You need to stop talking to your therapist about me,” he begins. “Y/N, what will happen when she tells anyone about the stuff you told her.”

“I only told her about my doubts, that I feel like a grey mouse,” you sniffle. “There is nothing wrong with it. I try to feel better and get over the fact that I never was pretty or sexy to you.”

Tears run down your face, and you choke out a sob, hating yourself for it. “What the fuck, doll. I gave you time and space, but you’ll not talk about shit with a stranger. I want you to talk to me!”

“About what, Bucky? There is nothing left to say. You want that sexy woman, and I’m going to fade in grey again,” you shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Fade to what?” running one hand down his face Bucky sighs. “Y/N, doll. I was drunk and Natasha asked me if she can stay in the guest room. When I walked into our bedroom she was there, wearing little to nothing.”

“How could you resist a woman like her while having someone like me at home. I’m not-“ your voice cracks when you look down your body. 

“I-I’m sorry that I almost had sex with her. I was stupid. We had this fight, and I was weak that night, baby doll,” he crouches down next to you, gently touches your foot. “Look at me, doll. Natasha can’t compare to you.”

“’s okay, Bucky,” you shrug. “Men like you shouldn’t go for girls like me. You belong to Natasha or anyone else but me.”

“Fucking shit, Y/N! Yell at me. Scream. Throw things. Do anything but blame yourself for my infidelity. I was drunk and made out with Natasha. This was not your fault, it was mine, doll,” he runs his hand up and down your leg, tries to make you talk to him.

“I will sign the papers, no problem.” 

“Papers? What papers? I got you the photos you wanted of the puppy,” Bucky opens the envelope to place the pictures of one of the puppies you liked onto your lap. “I-you see.”

“Puppies? I don’t understand, Bucky,” sniff, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“Y/N, can we not talk about what happened?”

“Mr. Barnes, I’m glad you made it to one of our sessions,” your therapist clears her throat, watches you make space on the couch for your husband. “Why don’t we talk about your problems? Maybe I can help you?”

“OHMYGOD, Bucky,” you giggle, slapping his bare chest while he tries to slip inside of you. “Hey, shouldn’t we do one of those pair therapy exercises?”

“I’m on it, beautiful,” your husband slams into you, ignores you are still sore from your last encounter. Well, you barely made it out of your therapist’s office without fucking the life out of each other. “Aw, you were such a cute shy girl, and I, the big bad mobster just came to the session to help you cope.”

“You’re an asshole,” you pant, cunt already soaked again. “But fuck me, baby. My therapist will be so fucking proud of me for taking the next step.”

“Next step, huh? You went straight to fucking me, Steve, and Sam. That’s not the next step, it’s the ultimate.”

“Yeah, and it was great,” your nails bite into Bucky’s back, leave angry red lines but you don’t care. “I’m gonna lay claim on you again Barnes.”

He growls, hips crashing into yours. “This cunt is mine. No more Sam or Steve,” you hum to yourself, lean back, and decide to just enjoy the ride. “What? Don’t just lie there, doll.”

“I’m tired but want an orgasm. Come on, Buck, work that body,” you grin, watching Bucky move on top of you. “That’s what you wanted. Right? A girl like Dot, who just lies there and takes it.”

“Damnit, doll. Move your body,” he groans when you decide to buck your hips. “More, Y/N. I wanna feel you move your body…”

“So, a second chance?” your therapist asks when you shyly sit on the couch next to Bucky. Oh, how you love to pretend you are not the devil in disguise.

Your red lips curve into a smirk and you wonder if that smart woman will ever find out the truth about you and Bucky.

“Yes, we will go for more sex and fewer puppies,” Bucky grunts, patting your thigh, squeezing it roughly with his metal hand. “Truth is doc; my girl needs a cock more than anything. Sometimes I’ll bring Steve in, to help me fuck her.”

“What?” your therapist stutters, looking at you with wide eyes. “Mr. Barnes!”

“Oh, she loves it, doc. Last time it was an orgy. I watched Steve, Sam and Thor take turns. She was covered in cum and screamed only my name,” Bucky grins like the devil, already patting his hidden gun.

“I-I,” unsure what to say or how to react to such a confession your therapist slowly gets up from your chair. “I think I’ll need fresh air.”

“Sit, doc,” his voice dangerously low now Bucky dips his head to look her straight in the eyes. “Did you think I don’t know you were selling all those nice information my wife gave you to my enemies?”

“Buck,” you sigh. “Don’t kill another therapist. I liked that one—”

“Great, now I must find a new therapist thanks to you,” watching Bucky parade around your bedroom, a smirk plastered all over his face you roll your eyes. “Seriously, Barnes. You killed three of my therapists in not eight years.”

“The first dared to say we should file for divorce. I know he only wanted to get a taste of your pussy,” your husband mutters.

“Yeah, but what about therapist number two? He didn’t do anything wrong, still, the cops knocked on my door not days after his disappearance.”

“Hey, it wasn’t me!” Bucky snickers. “Maybe Steve didn’t like your therapist blamed him for our failed marriage.” The bastard shrugs. “Or I had to show him no one touches my wife.”

“He didn’t touch shit, Barnes,” you growl, watching Bucky open the door to the bathroom to reveal his next gift to you. “What?”

“May I present to you—” he smirks when a black cat waltzes into the room, “that’s Hades, its soul is as black as yours.”

“Don’t say shit about black cats,” patting the mattress you watch Hades jump onto the bed, purring. “I love black cats.”

“I know, doll,” laughing Bucky sits on the bed to watch you pat the cat.

“This is your last second chance, Barnes. Next time I’ll just kill you...”

Tags in reblog.

[pan-fangirl-345]

He Would Tear the World Apart

Summary: During a raid, you're taken hostage. Shouto doesn't take the news well, and will do anything to get you back.

TW: kidnapping, abuse, alcoholism mentioned, Enji Todoroki's bad parenting, mental torture, dissociating, injuries, blood, angst, mentioned character death (no one actually dies), a lot of swearing, chains, starvation, dehydration, that sort of thing. If there's anything I missed, please let me know! Also, there is a happy ending, so it's angst to fluff!

A/N: First and foremost, I have no medical degree, I have no idea what it's like to dissociate, so anything medically incorrect is because I am not a doctor, though I am currently working on getting my psychology degree. I'm sorry if this offends anyone, that was not the intention. I have no idea what went through my head to make me write all of this in an hour, but here you go. Also, please read the trigger warnings, and if you don't like it, don't read it. Anyway, I might make a part two to this if anyone is interested. Feel free to spam my ask box, or slide into my DM's if you want. Please interact with me, I adore you all.

Aizawa sighed as he stepped into the conference room. He sat down heavily in his usual seat, and Nezu climbed onto his shoulder, as was custom after so many years, despite the situation they were in.

Again.

"As you have all heard, one of the second year students, (Y/N), has been taken. She was last seen on a raid with the hero she was studying under, and we haven't heard anything from her since this transmission."

Nezu pressed play on a recording and her voice floated through the air.

She was panting, and she was whispering, but Aizawa knew that it was her.

"To anyone receiving this transmission, this is hero-in-training Tempest, I'm pursuing the criminals associated with the gang 'The Numerals'. I've been separated from the others and my comms have been compromised by one of the members. Please, send back-up."

There was a pause where all they could hear was her breathing, and suddenly she yelled, "Hey! You, stop!"

There was static, and then there was nothing.

"We have received information from one of our recon teams that they have taken her to their base of operations, though we don't know exactly where that is yet. We have also, as a school, received a ransom demand. Her parents have yet to be contacted about this."

Copies of the notes were handed out to the teachers, and they all frowned, clearly thinking the same thing Aizawa had thought.

They were a school, what kind of school had this kind of money sitting around?

"What is the girl's quirk?"

"She can create different types of storms in her hands," Aizawa supplied. "As of the end of last year, she could make a hurricane for a few minutes at a time, sometimes a dust storm, and I know for a fact that she was undergoing training over the summer, so it might be more than that now. Under extreme duress, she can make a full scale electrical storm in a building or outside, but only if her life is threatened."

"So, not helpful for getting out of this kind of situation?" one of the other teachers chirped and Aizawa nodded.

"No," he agreed. "Though we should be checking for any strange storms and freak electrical spikes."

"Do any of the other students know about this?" Hizashi asked.

"No, and we need to keep it that way," Aizawa told his husband.

"Why?" Vlad King asked.

"(Y/N) is Todoroki Shouto's girlfriend," Aizawa replied, then waited for that to sink in before he continued. "If he finds out that she's gone, or that's she's been kidnapped and harmed . . . ." He shook his head a few times before he added, "He would tear the world apart to get her back."

"Fuck," someone mumbled, and Aizawa nodded.

Pretty much everyone that was at U.A. knew what that girl meant to Shouto, not to mention the people at Endeavor's agency, and the one that (Y/L/N) was working with.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Midnight asked.

"We plan a rescue mission," Nezu said. "We're working with nearly every police force in the country to try and figure out where they're keeping her. We have a rough area," he clicked onto a photo of a map, one area to the far north highlighted in bright red. "But there's nothing we can do until then, we need a warrant and evidence."

"The life of a child isn't enough?" Midnight asked. "Especially such a beautiful girl?"

Everyone went quiet, the mood somber and heavy.

"Aizawa, you spent more time with this girl than anybody," one of the third year teachers said, "how likely is it that she'll find a way out on her own?"

"It's a possibility," Aizawa admitted. "She's a very capable student, on par with Midoriya, Todoroki, and Bakugou, but they know what she can do. Not to mention that sources tell us she was injured, though we aren't sure to what extent. And the longer she spends with them is more time Shouto has to figure out what's happening. Not to mention the other students. We need to get her out as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Hizashi added.

It was no secret that Present Mic and Eraserhead had both taken a liking to you when you were in Class 1-A, all of the teachers liked you, and you were a solid foundation for your classmates.

You were a calm presence, and everyone, Bakugou included, had gone to you for advice at some point, though it was all for different reasons.

You tend to be a level-headed person, but when you felt strongly about something, nothing was going to stop you.

People, Shouto mainly, would start to sense the lack of your presence, and Aizawa wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted you back where you belonged.

"We can't keep him, Shouto I mean, in the dark about this," Hizashi murmured. "He's one of the best up and coming heroes."

"Not to mention," Aizawa added, "that we plan on flooding the streets with her photo. We've already sent it to all of the major hero agencies involved with the search, Endeavor's being one of them. If we don't tell him, his father will, and we all know how volatile that relationship is."

Everyone in the room shuddered at the mention of the father and son duo and nodded.

"Aizawa, All Might, it might be better if you both told him," Nezu said. "You both have the best relationship with him in this room, and you might be the only two that could hold him back if he reacts violently."

"And he will," Aizawa mumbled, already standing from his chair.

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

Shouto knew something was wrong.

He hadn't seen or heard from you in two days, almost three, and the teachers were acting suspicious. There were fewer of them in the halls, and Aizawa was even more tired than usual, with dark worry bags under his eyes that the students hadn't seen since the Bakugou Debacle in their first year.

The last he had heard, you were going on a raid for some gang members that were selling some sort of hallucinogenic drug based off of a mirage quirk.

You hadn't contacted him or come back since.

"Young Shouto, can we speak to you for a moment?" All Might asked, making everyone look up from what they were doing.

Despite the dorms no longer being completely necessary, (the League had backed off a little bit in recent days, and there hadn't been very many Nomu attacks lately), most of Class 1-A, now 2-A, had moved into the dorms for their second year, you and Shouto included.

"Does this have to do with (Y/F/N)?" he asked, standing quickly.

"Unfortunately, yes," Aizawa said, voice somber.

"Todoroki, do you want us to come with you?" Midoriya asked, getting that look on his face.

"If it's about (Y/F/N) then they all deserve to know too," Shouto said. "And I would feel better knowing they were here."

"Of-Of course," All Might replied, glancing at Aizawa nervously.

"(Y/L/N) has been kidnapped and is being held hostage as we speak," he told them, as blunt as ever.

Aizawa ripped his goggles off right before Shouto blew.

One half of his body erupted into blue tinted flames, and the other exploded in a rain of ice, but they evaporated quickly under Aizawa's gaze, and before any damage could be done to the dorms.

Everything went dark in his head, and his feet were moving before he even had a chance to fully process what his former teachers had been saying to him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow as he moved to intercept him.

"To find her," Shouto snarled, and he didn't even recognize his own voice. It was several octaves lower than normal, and there was a rasp to it that had never been there before. "To get my girlfriend back."

"You don't even know where she is," Aizawa said. "We don't even know where she is. Besides, you're too emotionally involved."

"Too emotionally involved?" Shouto said, his voice too calm, his eyes too dead.

Everyone in the room took a step away from him. Everyone except Midoriya and Bakugou.

"Too emotionally involved?" he repeated.

"Oh shit," someone whispered, though Shouto didn't know who it was.

"That is my girlfriend. That is the love of my life and you're telling me that I can't get her back because . . . I'm too emotionally involved? What about when Midoriya went to get Eri? Was he too 'emotionally involved'?"

No one dared to point out that it was nowhere near the same thing, but there was a collective thought about it in the room.

"That is my fucking girlfriend out there," he snapped. "I will work harder than anyone to get her back. I will be the one person wholly invested in making sure that she stays safe."

"And that is why you can't be one of the people in on this," Aizawa told him. "The others are her friends, but you? You are way more than that, and that means that when it comes down to it, you can't make a clear-headed decision on whether it's worth it to try and grab her or not. Because she'll always be worth it to you."

"Damn right she will," Shouto said, staring Aizawa down.

No one had heard Shouto swear this much at once, if ever, depending on the person. He was starting to sound like Bakugou, and the others knew immediately that if you weren't back soon, he was going to blow.

"Look kid, I understand," Aizawa muttered. "I really do. I understand how you feel, I would do that same thing for Hizashi, but I also know what I would do, and we can't have that in the investigation. What would (Y/F/N) want?"

"She would want to be here!" Shouto shouted. "She would want to be teasing Bakugou in the kitchen, making sure that everyone had a blanket for movie night. She would want to be curled up with me on the couch watching bad romance movies that the girls cheated their way into picking out and making sure that I-!"

Shouto stopped as the emotions got lodged in his throat. Tears threatened to spill over as his vision got blurry, and the others were there to catch him as his knees gave out on him.

"We'll get her back kid," Aizawa assured him, crouching down, touching the top of his head softly. "We will get her back."

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

Your head was buzzing as you came back to consciousness and you suppressed a groan of pain.

Consciousness hurt.

You did a short mental tally of your injuries.

Your ribs were definitely a little bruised, if not cracked or broken. Your lips were split in at least four different places each. One shoulder was definitely dislocated, and the other was hurt in some way. Your left ankle was bruised and swollen, broken probably. Your head probably had a huge gash if the blood running down the side of your face was anything to go by, and you were definitely concussed on some level.

Apparently getting your head slammed into solid concrete by someone who had launched themselves off a ledge would do that to you.

You were in what looked like a basement of some sort. The walls were solid concrete, there were pipes running overhead and dripping on you randomly, which wasn't appreciated, and there was insulation and plaster showing through here and there.

"Finally awake sleeping beauty?"

Your head whipped around to see your kidnapper, but your head protested and so did your stomach, despite the fact that there was nothing in it.

You suppressed a groan, trying to keep your stomach where it belonged.

"Ready to tell us who the informant is?"

"Go straight to hell," you muttered, when you were certain you wouldn't throw up on yourself, glaring at them.

"I still can't believe you were fucking stupid enough to kidnap a child! She doesn't know shit," the other man snapped at the first.

"She has to know something!" the first guy snapped. "She was in on the raid!"

His quirk allowed him to change his voice, so he wasn't using the real one, he sounded like a guy that smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day.

The other guy you had started calling Sandy in your head. His quirk was similar to yours, he was able to turn anything he touched into sand, and then use it. He mostly made sand storms, and that's how they had gotten the jump on you in the tunnels.

One had blinded you while the other had carried you away, much to chagrin of the Sandy.

"I'm in training," you rasped. "I'm hero-in-training Tempest, from Class 2-A at the school U.A."

They hadn't given you anything to drink in the last two days, from what you could even remember of it, and you knew that you weren't going to last much longer, having been dehydrated when they had taken you.

They had kidnapped you from the raid site, and then spent six hours driving around like morons trying to cover their tracks, before driving for an unknown amount of time before they had dumped you in here. You had been unconscious for the secondary part of the drive, and you knew that with everything going on, there was the possibility you were experiencing retrograde amnesia.

"They don't tell me the important stuff like that. I get told when we're going on raids, and what my part in them is, and that's on the very rare occasion that they happen during my shifts. Most of the time, I'm on patrols around the city," you told them, taking a break in your little speech to spit blood onto the floor by your leg. "You need directions, I'm your girl, but you need to know who's a rat, sorry, I can't help."

You would've shrugged, but your arms were chained to the wall behind you, and every time you moved your right arm it made an awful clicking noise that you knew wasn't natural. Your left shoulder was dislocated as well, meaning your arms were pretty much useless.

One leg was operational, but barely. You were so far out of commission you wouldn't be surprised if U.A. kicked you out to recuperate.

U.A. wouldn't, and couldn't, pay the ransom. You knew that. The best hope you had was that you could act your way out of this, or that they planned a raid to get you out.

They had done it for Bakugou, why not you, right?

Shouto passed through your thoughts, thoughts about what he might do to get you back, but you shut them down as soon as they entered your head.

You were trying to keep him in a safe place.

You hoped that Shouto never learned about this. About where they were keeping you, what they had already done to try and get you to talk.

He was your safe place now, safe and away from this building, wherever you were. You thought maybe if you could keep him out of your head here, it was a way of protecting him from the reality of your situation, even if he already knew.

"She's a kid," Sandy snarled, pointing at you viciously. "She's a kid. You know the Boss' rules about kids and you broke almost every one of them!"

"Yeah, well-"

"Guys, hey, I hate to interrupt," you interjected, "but I really have to go to the bathroom."

They both stared at you for a moment before Sandy asked, "Do you promise to not try and escape?"

"Buddy, I don't know if you've looked recently, but I doubt I'm doing anywhere," you quipped. "My ankle is obviously demolished, my head was cracked open like an egg, thanks to your buddy Darth Vader over there. Not to mention, I'm dehydrated and starving, and don't even get me started on how much my ribs are killing me right now, probably literally. Do I look like I'm in any shape to try and escape?"

Sandy frowned, glancing at you like this was the first time he was seeing the extent of what had been done to you.

"Alright, I'm going to undo the chains, but you can't try to escape, you'll only make things worse for yourself."

"Death seems preferable at this point," you grunted, trying to hide the pain you were in.

"Don't you have healing supplies?"

"How am I supposed to use them when I can't move my fucking arms?" you asked, wiggling your fingers in emphasis. "And you morons confiscated my belt, which had them all in it! You know what my quirk is! What did you think was in it? Explosives? No, I leave that to Dynamight."

"Fuck," Sandy muttered.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" the voice dude asked.

"Because if she dies then that means no money and no chance of surviving prison again. Do you know what happens to people who mess with kids in prison? Nothing good."

You logged that little piece of information away, trying to focus on their features, but with your concussion, your eyes weren't the hottest.

"Can you move?" Sandy asked you as he worked on unlocking your chains.

You couldn't help the cry of pain when your arms dropped to your sides, tearing stinging your eyes as you bit into your already roughed up lip.

"Shit. Can we get a medic in here?" Sandy shouted.

A door opened and someone stuck their head in. Sandy repeated his demand, and the door shut again.

"Why are you doing this?" you whimpered, trying to keep your voice even.

If they were sadists, any fear or pain you showed only gave them what they wanted.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sandy said. "The Boss gave us somewhere to belong, he gave us a place off the streets. We owe him. We would've died."

"Shut up," Smoker snapped, and you glanced at him.

"I have a headache, and it comes and goes as you talk. Please, for the love of all things holy, shut up," you hissed to Darth Vader, wanting to touch your head, but not being able to for multiple reasons.

Sandy touched your shoulder lightly and you cried out again, moving automatically to hit him, but your other arm twinged, bringing more tears to your eyes.

"Sorry," Sandy murmured, pulling his hands away.

You took a shaky breath, waiting for the pain to dull before you said, "There's no way I'm moving from this spot without being in pain, and I'm definitely going to need help."

"Holy fuck, you two morons were two lucky blows away from killing her."

You glanced over to see someone with a med kit strolling leisurely down the stairs.

"Hello Tempest," they said, giving you a bright smile.

"Hello Med Kit," you replied, giving them a grimace.

"You can call me Himo for now," Med Kit said. "Do you mind if I take a look?"

"You're going to whether I want you or not, but sure, go ahead," you muttered. "It's not really like you can make this any worse."

"I could break almost every bone in your body and keep you alive while doing it, so I could do so much worse, but that's not the goal here," Himo told you, setting to work.

"So what is the goal? Since I'm assuming that I'm never going to get out of here," you said, glancing around.

"Why do you think that?" Himo asked, ignoring your first question.

"Because I've seen your faces, I know your quirks, I know a general area of where I'm being kept, unless someone used a teleportation quirk of some sort. I know the school won't pay the ransom, my parents don't have that kind of money, and my boyfriend's father would never pay to see me safe and sound. He would probably twist his son's grief to get him to be compliant," you grumbled. "Besides, I'm a hero, hero-in-training, whatever, it's all semantics. I'm basically your arch-nemesis. Isn't that what every villain wants? To kill the person in their way?"

"We aren't villains," Sandy muttered.

"You break laws put in place to protect people, you attacked a minor, then kidnapped her after assaulting her, and you are trying to get a ransom for me," you pointed out. "That doesn't really scream 'hero' or 'civilian' to me."

"Have you ever though about who writes the rules? About how money can manipulate everything? The system is flawed, and we are going to make sure people know it," Darth Vader snarled. "Do you understand how unfair the world is?"

"Don't talk to me about the world being unfair," you whispered, your voice dropping, every muscle in your body tensing. "My boyfriend loves his mother more than pretty much anyone in the world. Her parents, his grandparents, arranged a quirk marriage, and she had four children she didn't necessarily want. Her husband drove her to near insanity, enough so that she poured a kettle of boiling water over my boyfriend's face because he looks like his father. His father has already managed to get one of his children killed, and he considers the other rejects because they don't have the quirk he wanted them to have. He's a different kind of monster, and he's not in jail.

"My own father verbally and mentally abused me for as long as I can remember. My mother and I were zombies until recently, when I decided I had had enough and my mother finally found the courage and will to leave his sorry ass in the gutters where it belongs. My father always had enough alcohol in his system to make him a human molotov cocktail. I had little to no self esteem until recently, and I still struggle to understand and comprehend that I am worth love. I am still learning to respect myself. So you don't get to preach to me about how unfair the world is buddy, we all know," you snarled.

"The hundreds, thousands of kids out on the street know. The women and men that get raped, and continue to see their own personal monster roam free know. The kids that get hit every day for not being what their parents want know. That's why people like me exist, to put away the monsters wearing human skin. That's why my friends and I try so hard to be heroes. It's not about the glory, or the money. It's about bring people to justice, it's about making sure that people feel safe. It's about giving other people something that we never had."

Silence echoed through the room as what you said sank in.

You hadn't meant to burst like that, but you were sick and tired of these guys using their shitty lives to make other people's lives shitty too.

"Why are you a hero, Tempest?" Himo asked.

"Because I want to save people," you replied. "I just told you that. I want to make sure that every child like me knows that they don't have to be their parents, that there is another option. I don't want the abused becoming the abuser. I want to make sure that the people doing the bad things get put where they belong. I want to help the kids that have nothing to lose, I want to help them realize that they have everything to gain. I want to give people like you hope."

There was no use in lying to them, they were probably going to kill you anyway. Besides, it might help you build rapport, and they might let you go when they realized that they made a mistake.

"People like us?"

"People who think that there isn't another option. People who have been shown nothing but the horrid parts of the world, the horrible parts of humanity. People who don't know what it's like to be loved completely by somebody, both good and bad. People who think that they owe someone who isn't worth one minute of their time. Good people who strayed too far from the path."

There was silence for a few minutes before you said, "I've seen a lot of real villains, people who aren't capable of basic human emotions, I've seen people who have no humanity in their eyes. They are the villains, they are the monster under our beds personified. People like you, you just simply wandered. You aren't lost, you're just further to the side than some other people. It would be easy for you to walk the path again."

You paused, thinking over what you said, then added, "Well, it wouldn't be easy necessarily, but it would be worth it."

"You still have the naivety of a child," Vader snarled.

"Call me what you want, naive, innocent, optimistic, I've heard it all, but in the end, I'm right," you told him.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, at the end of the day, I know that every life I save isn't just one life," you replied. "That young woman I saved, she might have kids some day, or foster a child that needs a loving mother. That child I shoved out of the way might help the suicidal child in his class. Every life I save touches other people's lives. As hard as it is to believe, no one is ever truly alone in the world. Every smile I give to a stranger might make their day, might help them live long enough to find the thing that makes them happy. That's why I'm a hero."

More silence.

Your face heated, but there was something in their faces that told you they had never thought about it that way before.

"So, is there anything you can do to heal me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"Like I said, these guys were two lucky blows away from killing you, I'm surprised that you're still alive, actually, everything considered. Your head will heal on it's own, but there might be a little scar left. However, your ribs might take longer. Three are cracked, and four are bruised. Your ankle might need surgery to get it back to the way it was. It's definitely broken, and there might be small bone particles floating around in there, I'm not entirely sure, my quirk isn't that detailed I'm afraid. Not to mention that, from what I can see, your shoulders just need to be popped back into place. One was dislocated more than the other, but it will hurt."

"Can't hurt worse than the state I'm in now. So what can you do? I'm assuming that taking me to a hospital is out of the question."

"Well, I can treat the cut on your head, relocate your shoulders, and I can see if someone else can take a look at your ankle, but everything else will have to heal on it's own."

"So there isn't much?"

"Nope, we don't have the equipment needed for your ankle here, and, like you said, no hospitals."

"Fucking gre- wait a minute, to you guys still have my belt?" you asked, perking up a little.

"Yeah, it's over here," Sandy said, walking over into the back corner, pulling your med belt out.

"Hand it over. I promise there's nothing too harmful in there. There are some painkillers, but it's just Midol. It's all medical stuff," you said, wincing as Sandy dropped it into your lap.

You opened it, taking out a small device.

"What does that thing even do?" Himo asked, looking at it warily.

"It's not a communicator or anything," you hurried to explain. "I made some friends in the support courses, so I asked if they could make me a device that works like an X-ray would. Himo, take it."

He took from you gently, which you appreciated, and turned it all around, trying to figure out how it worked.

"Alright, see that little button on the top left, yeah, right there. Click that button twice, like hitting the home button of a phone."

Himo did as he was told, and the screen blinked to life.

"Alright, hold the over my hurt ankle, and it should be able to show what's going on. Or," you added, "it'll blow up. Hatsume is kind of unpredictable like that."

Himo's hands tightened on it, but he did what you asked, and was clearly surprised when a detailed X-ray appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit, it worked!" you cheered, grinning.

"You have some very talented friends," Himo told you.

"I know right? She's a little quirky, but she's great at what she does!"

"How are you able to smile right now?" Sandy asked, looking at you with something akin to wonder.

"Don't get me wrong," you started. "I'm fucking terrified, but there's not much I can do in this situation. Besides, from what I can tell, other than the initial assault, you people don't want to hurt me. You want something from me. In this scenario, what I'm guessing, is that you want something from me, so you're going to be nice, and make me want to help you out, or make me feel like I owe you one, and then, when I don't comply, you'll either torture me to try and get what you want until I die, or you'll just kill me right off the bat."

Himo winced, and Sandy twitched.

"You guys really hate the thought of me dying, don't you?" you asked, cocking your head to the side, despite the protect of your brain. "Is this one of those scenarios where kids should be off limits?"

"We may be bad guys, but we have certain priorities," Sandy admitted. "Kids are a sore spot for most of us."

You nodded slightly. "I can see why. You guys said something about being on the streets? I know that sometimes kids band together, that's how they survive. I'm assuming you've lost friends."

"Smart kid," Himo murmured, eyes darting over the X-ray.

"Sometimes they give us profile training," you admitted. "Besides, I've been working on my psychology degree."

"Wicked smart kid," Sandy quipped.

"Alright, so I can set your ankle, there isn't anything wrong with it other than the obvious fact that it's broken," Himo said, handing the device back to you. "Riko, I'm gonna need your help."

"With what?" Sandy asked, looking skeptical.

"Can you hold her legs down? I need to relocate her shoulders before I do anything with her ankle, just because I have a feeling she attacks when she's hurt."

"Good instincts," you muttered.

"I'm a doctor," he confessed, grinning. "You learn a thing or two."

"Sorry about this," Sandy said.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," you told him. "As long as that's all you do I'll considerate your way of trying to make up from everything else."

Sandy snorted, holding your legs just below your knees.

"This is going to hurt," Himo warned.

"I would be surprised if it-"

You clenched your teeth to try and keep your scream in as Himo popped your right arm back into place.

The rest of your body bucked, trying to roll away, but Sandy, Riko, had a firm hold on you.

You panted as the pain started to fade a little in your arm.

"Sorry, I've found it works better when people aren't expecting it," he said.

"Son of a bitch," you gritted out, spitting blood off to the side. "I bit my tongue."

Riko chuckled, shaking his head.

"Alright, now for the other one," Himo murmured. "I really don't understand how you managed to take this much damage."

"At least I only broke my ankle. My friend Deku has broken both arms, both legs, and both hands before. I think he's broken almost every bone in his body sa-"

Himo popped your other arm back into place and you couldn't stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks at that one, your jaw almost cracking with how hard you clenched it to try and keep the noises in.

"Fucking fuck," you muttered when the pain pulsed into something a little bit more bearable.

"Better?" Himo asked, prodding your shoulders.

"Yeah," you admitted, moving them slowly. You dug around in your med belt, pulling out two pieces of metal and a small bottle.

"What is that for?" Himo asked.

You pushed a button on the metal, and they extended to the required length.

"It's for a splint, or a cast," you told him. "Once you set my ankle, you put the metal on either side, and I can spray this one. It's a special kind of plaster, don't ask me how it works, I have no idea what's in it, but it'll hold until my ankle is fully healed, then it'll fall off on it's own."

"Amazing!"

"Heroes, when the respond to disasters, often have to set up triages until other emergency responders can arrive, so we have to know a little bit about basic medical treatments in emergencies like that. So a lot of us have belts and such to keep medical stuff in. I also keep duct tape and glue in here. You never know when you're gonna need it."

You pulled out some painkillers, popping two in your mouth, taking them dry.

"How?" Vader asked, sounding horrified.

"Hate to break it to you, but when you're a teenage girl, especially one learning to be a hero, when you don't always have time for water, you learn to take pills dry."

"TMI," Vader muttered.

"Hey, jackass, you asked," you told him.

Riko and Himo chuckled.

"Alright. Riko, see if you can get a hold on her, this is gonna hurt like a bitch," Himo warned. "Li, hold her other leg down."

"Don't use my fucking name!" Vader shouted.

"You know, I wouldn't have known that was your real name if you hadn't reacted that way," you told him. "Heroes are also trained to pick up on certain behaviors like that."

Li grumbled, but did as he was asked.

Himo situated himself, then said, "Get ready."

The pain had you blacking out before you knew what happened.

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

"I knew something was wrong," Shouto muttered for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. "I should have gone with her!"

"Dude, it wasn't even your mission," Kaminari told him. "There was nothing you could've done for her."

"Yeah you half-and-half bastard," Bakugou chimed in. "Besides, we're gonna get her back, so shut up and try and think of something useful."

Everyone had leapt into action when it had sunk in that you were in serious danger. It didn't take long, and no one wanted to acknowledge that it was worrisome.

They had split up into teams.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Shouto, Kaminari, and Kirishima were working on the maps that had been given to the students.

Momo, Jirou, Uraraka, Mina, and Tsuyu were going over the interviews with raid members, trying to gather up information on what had happened, trying to see if there was a traitor among them, other than the undercover agent that they had been told about.

Tokoyami, Ojiro, Shoji, Sero, and Koda were helping the other heroes do recon missions and patrols in the area where they suspected you were being held.

Sato, Shinso, Hagaruke, and Iida were working on the case files of all the known members of the gang that you had been going after. Surprisingly, those four were the only ones able to hear about the things that some of the gang members had done.

Hagakure was crying softly to herself as she read, but no one could pull her away from the files.

"I have to know," she kept saying. "I need to know about what they did so I can help when we get her back."

Sato didn't know you as well as the others did, so he was a little less effected. He were itching to get you back, but the others had spent far more time with you personally.

Shinso, on the other hand, was powering through them, wanting to know what he had to avenge when they got to that building. He wanted to know what they might be doing to you so that he could have far more reason to get them arrested.

Iida just wanted something useful to do.

"They just cleared building seven in section 3-C!" Aoyama called from his spot the progress computer that they had set up in the common room.

Aoyama was in charge of letting them know what had been cleared, what was under suspicion, and what they had ruled out completely.

"Fuck, that pretty much clears that grid section," Bakugou muttered, forcefully crossing an abandoned apartment building off his map.

"They might need to expand their net," Midoriya added. "No one knows where she is. There's the possibility that they aren't even in that area."

"I hate this!" Shouto burst out. "I feel useless just sitting here!"

"It's either this or you get stuck back on the sidelines," Bakugou reminded him and he clenched his fists.

He just wanted you back safe and sound by his side, preferably with his arm around your shoulders.

He'd been trying to remember the last thing he said to you before you had gone on that raid, but he couldn't remember.

He hoped that it was 'I love you' or something similar, but not knowing was killing him.

"Todoroki-kun," Midoriya said, laying a hand on his arm. "We will get her back."

"Yeah, we aren't giving up on her, no way in hell," Kaminari added, eyes flashing gold in the lights of the common room.

"She never gave up on us, it's not manly for us to give up on her," Kirishima chimed in.

"I know," Shouto said. "I trust you all."

It went unsaid, but understood, that when it came time to get her back, Shouto was going to be the one leading the rescue.

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

A week later, Himo came into the basement and said, "Do you think you can walk?"

"On one leg maybe. Why?" you asked.

Your ankle was wrapped in the cast that you had taken out, but your ankle was feeling a little better than it had been. It still throbbed every once in a while, but it could've been worse.

"The boss wants to see you."

"Oh, the big boss," you griped, rolling your eyes. "He wants to see me he can come down here himself."

Himo hesitated, but he nodded, heading back upstairs.

You had known that there was an undercover agent in the gang, but you had yet to figure out who it was.

Every member of the gang seemed to know that you were there, that, or they were much bigger than you had anticipated.

So far, Himo and Riko were your top two suspicions, given that they were the only two that were actually kind to you, but you had a small part of you that wasn't sure.

The door opening a few minutes later announced the arrival of the leader, and you steeled yourself.

"You fucking morons," the man muttered, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. "What did I say about kids?"

"Sorry Boss, but we didn't have a choice," Li said, stepping out of the shadows.

He had been stay with you for the entire week, and it was clear that you didn't have the kind of rapport with him that you did with Riko and Himo.

You had been trying to make a storm, something, to let the someone know where you were, but you had idea of knowing whether it was working or not. You were in the experimental stages of the large storm capabilities of your quirk, and you were completely drained at the moment.

"What's your name kid?" the man asked.

His hands were covered in rings, and scars littered the little bit of skin his tailored suit showed off.

You had seen Shouto in high class clothes for gatherings that he was required by social convention to attend, so this guy was either rich, or so far into debt that he was on the run from the banks.

"You can call me Tempest," you said.

"(Y/N). Second year at U.A. Class 2-A student, and one of the new public favorites," Li said.

"Aw, you looked me up, how sweet," you taunted. "But like I said, I prefer Tempest, it sounds cooler."

"Far enough," the boss said.

He was wearing a mask that covered the top half of his face, and a fedora type hat, so there wasn't much to catalog, but you did anyway.

"Are you here to kill me?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, despite the way it made the chains rattle.

"No, not if you give me what I want," the man said. His voice was deep, and he looked like he was in his early thirties, but you weren't entirely sure.

"I don't know who your rat is," you stated.

"How do you know that's what I wanted?"

"When I woke up on day two, your Sandy man and Darth Vader over there were talking about it. Vader actually asked me about it." You paused, then said, "You guys do realize that I'm right under an intern right? I'm not high enough to know about UC's. Think of me like the intern's intern. I'm lucky I even got to go on the raid."

The man watched your for a moment before he said, "I hate it when people tell me the truth. It means I don't get to have any fun."

"Sucks to be you then," you replied. "So what happens now?"

"You get broken," the man said, reaching out to touch your forehead.

"Good luck with that," you muttered when he pulled away.

Then the visions started.

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

"Everybody get up!" Aoyama shouted. "Up, up, up! Someone called in a noise complaint late last night!"

Class 2-A poured into the common room.

Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero ran in with no shirts on, and Kaminari fell trying to pull his shorts up over his Pikachu boxers. Shinso was already in there sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee clad in a t-shirt with a cat meme and dark jeans.

The girls poured in in a mix of pajamas and hoodies that they had stolen from the boys over the last week, their hair a mess and dark bags under their eyes.

"What's going on?" Shouto asked. He knew that his bags were darker than anyone's, and no one had seen him sleep in almost three days.

"Late last night someone called the tip line anonymously to complain about screaming from a condemned building smack dab in the middle of section 1-A. Someone checked into it and there has been a lot of activity in that area lately," Aoyama explained.

He had given up trying to keep up the sparkly attitude, though some of the French had stayed.

"Is there anything else?"

"Guess which gang has been operating in the middle of that area?" Shinso said, having stayed up with the sparkly blond.

"The Numerals," Shouto said.

"Tres bein!" Aoyama replied.

"Have the heroes been notified?"

"They started a conference at three this morning," Shinso said.

"And no one told us?" Shouto asked.

"They wanted to let us sleep. They know how hard we've been working," Shinso replied.

"I'll sleep when we get her back," Shouto snapped, heading for the conference room.

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

Aizawa shouldn't have been surprised when his former students streamed into the meeting that was being held to rescue (Y/L/N), but he was.

Though that might have been because most of the boys were shirtless and the girls were clad in their pajamas, and hoodies that were clearly not theirs.

"Catch us up," Shouto demanded.

"Shouto, what are you-"

"Shouto, you are aware that this is merely to scope out the building, correct?" Aizawa interrupted, glancing at his former class.

"We don't fucking care," Bakugou snarled. "You're going to catch us up, and you're going to let us join, because she's our friend, and we're the strongest team that you could ask for."

"We can't, in good conscience, let kids into-"

"Do we need to mention all the times that the League has attacked us in the last year? Not to mention Gentle Criminal, Stain, the whole Chisaki ordeal, should we go on?" Midoriya asked, frowning.

Endeavor went to talk again but more students started to talk.

"We can help," Kirishima chimed in. "We want to help."

"Besides," Kaminari added before any of the adults could chime in, "the more hands you have the better it'll be. We can capture more members and get her back. It's a win-win scenario. Gangs are known to be disorganized. If you can get word to your informant about a stealth mission, you might be able to get both them and (Y/L/N) out with minimal risk to them both."

"And we have useful quirks," Jirou supplied. "Kaminari can kill any power they have, Bakugou and Midoriya are good for taking stuff down, so are Kirishima and Sato. Todoroki is more than capable of restraining anyone that he comes across, and I can tell you where people are, how many and so on."

"Not to mention I can make communicators that are much harder to disconnect," Momo piped up.

"People don't really know about me yet," Shinso said, hands in his jeans pockets. "They don't know my quirk, so they're much more likely to fall for me, which is more than helpful for you, since it makes fighting back much less likely."

"We want to get her back, me more than anyone," Shouto said, arms crossed over his chest. "We can useful. Besides, I don't think I need to mention all the times that we've stepped in without your permission and gotten the objective completed while keeping everything legal."

Aizawa sighed.

"We really should just let them help," he said. "They're going to keep pushing, and I don't want any of them expelled and arrested. They are some of the best up and coming heroes. Besides, they all make good points."

"I feel the need to point out," Midoriya chimed in, "that the more of us you take, the more heroes you can have causing a distraction, or the more you can release to recharge and work on other things that are starting to take precedent, like the drug that the gang is manufacturing and selling."

There were more whispers, and finally the heroes sighed.

"Alright, but you're working with Eraserhead and Endeavor, since they're going to be leading the mission with Fatgum."

"We can work with that," Bakugou said. "But we want permission to engage if necessary."

"You would have that anyway," Fatgum said.

"We also want credit if we find her," Sero added. "We aren't going to let possible attackers think that we're defenseless. They take on one of us, they take on all of us."

"That can be discussed," Present Mic assured them.

"This should go without saying," Shouto began, "that I get to ride with her in the ambulance when we find her."

"Everyone assumed that anyway," Midnight told him. "Don't worry Todoroki, no one is going to keep you away from her."

Endeavor opened his mouth, but sharp looks from everyone had him shutting it again.

The students nodded.

"Now catch us up," Bakugou demanded.

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

You couldn't remember when you had stopped processing things the proper way.

You couldn't remember a time before the nightmares.

They talked to you, they wanted you to know about an informant. Sometimes Shouto appeared, smiling and reaching his hands out to you. Sometimes your father walked in, drunk as always, shouting at you to do better.

You retreated in on yourself.

You turned to that small part of your brain that you had made to wait out the fighting, the yelling, the hurt. You retreated into the part of yourself that you knew no one could ever enter but you.

Shouto was there like he always was. He wasn't entirely your Shouto, but he wasn't the nightmare either.

He was a figment of your imagination, but he made things a little bit better.

"I'll come," he assured you. "I'll find you."

You were lying in a meadow, a small clearing surrounded by trees that were bent over you to create a small dome of shade.

"I know you will," you told him, reaching your hand out to him.

He touched his fingers to yours, but you couldn't feel it.

You remembered someone in the past calling it dissociating, but you weren't a professional yet.

You had never done it at U.A. since you had never felt the need, but this wasn't something that you would ever be able to forget how to do.

You could still see the nightmares, but it was like it was far away, background noise.

"Do you think that you'll ever go back?" Shouto asked. "Do you think that you'll ever go back to me?"

"Maybe, if the nightmares ever stop. If I think that it's actually you that I'm going back to," you said, watching him carefully.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?" Shouto inquired.

"Yeah. I said, 'I'll always come back to you'. Why are you asking me that?"

"Do you remember what I said to you?"

"You said, 'Promise me you'll be safe?' I was about to go on the raid, and you were upset about not being able to go with me."

"Do you promise to remember that?" Shouto asked.

"Yeah, I promise," you told him, smiling a little.

"(Y/F/N)! Oh, darling, what did they do to you? (Y/F/N), can you hear me?"

The nightmare was getting better at looking like the real Shouto, and this one had the same voice.

"Go to him," the dream Shouto said, sitting up.

"Why?"

"(Y/F/N), blink if you can hear me," Shouto demanded.

You forced yourself to blink.

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

Shouto couldn't describe to absolute relief it was to see you blink.

He had seen the discarded cast off to the side of you, and he wasn't sure whether you would be able to hear him in that state.

"Hey darling, come on, we're gonna get you out of here, I promise," he murmured, touching your face lightly.

"Sh-Shouto," you rasped. "Shouto, wh-what was the last thing that you said to me?"

"Darling, don't try to speak," he told you, trying to figure out how to cut through the chains without hurting you.

"Shouto, what was the last thing that you said to me?" you asked again, reaching up to grab his hand.

"'Do you promise me that you'll be safe?'" he said, eyes roving over you to try and see any wounds. "That's what I said to you."

Your eyes widened in surprise before tears slipped out of your eyes.

"Sho, it really is you!"

"Darling, hey," he murmured, touching your face softly.

You were sobbing now, fully body sobs, and Shouto wanted so badly to take a moment to just relish in the fact that you were safe, but he had to get you out of there as soon as possilbe.

"Tsukuyomi," Shouto called. "Can Dark Shadow cut through chains?"

"Yes."

"I'm on the basement level of the building. I have Tempest, can you meet us down here?"

"On our way," Tokoyami assured him.

"Guys, I have her, she's in the basement with me, we're getting her out as we speak," Shouto declared over the coms, and he was met with cheers and relief that you were okay.

"How many of you are here?" you asked, wiping at your face.

"The whole class is here," Shouto told you. "Most of the hero agencies sent representatives that are here too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, people were really upset that you were taken, especially with the role you played in apprehending Numeral gang members on the last raid, and the part you played in bringing the drug to light."

"Wow," you murmured, making Shouto laugh.

"Hold on just a little bit longer darling," he coaxed. "Our friends are on the way."

"I can't believe that it's really you," you whispered, touching his face softly, rubbing your thumb over his scar the way you did.

"Oh darling, what did they do to you?" he asked.

"For the past couple of days they've been trying to break me, they want to know who the undercover agent is. I don't know who it is though, so the leader of the Numerals used his quirk on me. He makes the drugs. His quirk makes you see things, makes you feel things. It's like he can burrow into your head and take the images out of your head."

You shuddered in his arms and he frowned as Tokoyami appeared in the doorway.

"Hello (Y/L/N)," he said, smiling at you.

"Hey little bird," you replied, your smile watery with emotions.

"Can Dark Shadow get through those chains?"

"Of course," Tokoyami told Shouto.

"Hello starlight," Dark Shadow said.

"Hi Dark Shadow," you murmured, stroking the sentinent creature before he tore through the chains like paper mache.

You rubbed at your wrists for a moment before you threw your arms around Shouto, burying your face in his neck.

"Sho," you sobbed, tears back full force.

"I've got you darling," he murmured. "I've got you. You're free, you're free."

You nodded, arms tight around him.

Shouto scooped you up, cradling you against his chest, letting you sob as much as you needed to.

The paramedics that had been called to the scene hadn't managed to get Shouto to let go of you, and you showed no signs of letting go of him, so they had managed to do everything they needed to with you clinging to him.

"She'll need physical therapy, not to mention professional trauma therapy. She's malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention suffering from exhaustion and a very severe concussion. Her ankle needs to be further inspected, and there's some internal damage, some cracked ribs that might need to be taken care of, but we can do some more thorough work at the hospital. I assume that you're coming with her?" the paramedic asked when he was finished.

"Yes, I'm her boyfriend," Shouto said.

"Alright, well, you have to let go of her so that we can get her hooked up to an IV and make sure that we don't make her concussion any worse. You really shouldn't have moved her, but there's only so much we can do about that now," the other paramedic told him.

"I-It's okay Shouto," you murmured, pulling away from him enough to wipe your face off.

Your breathing was ragged, and you looked like you wanted to go back to being unconscious, but you allowed the paramedics to get you onto an IV and a bed with a neck supporter.

"Shouto, will you stay with me?" you asked.

"Always darling," Shouto said, gripping your hand.

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

Forthree weeks afterwards, you were stuck in the hospital. Your ankle hadn't been as bad as it had been feared, you back on your feet in a week, and you were undergoing physical therapy.

You were back to a normal diet, and you were going to therapy three times a week. Well, the shrink came to you, but semantics.

Your class visited every day, bringing you your homework and recorded lessons, most of them crying, and more than elated that you were back, safe.

Shouto, after being given permission by your parents, was being counted as a family member, and he had been practically living in the hospital with you.

For the first week, he had refused to leave your hospital room. He had slept curled around you, despite the machines that you had been hooked up to, he had missed class, staying with you and keeping you company.

There was also the reason of him being the only one to be able to calm you down after a nightmare.

There were nightmares where you woke up sweaty and nervous, asking the nurse on the night shift to light the candles that were all around your room.

But there were some that had you hurtling to the small bathroom in your room, hurling the contents of your stomach up. Then there were the ones that got so bad that you locked yourself in the bathroom, hiding yourself away in a corner until someone noticed and got a hold of Shouto.

They were getting better, and you were getting better about people coming up behind you, the touching.

For a few days after being admitted to the hospital, the only person who could touch you was Shouto.

Your mother had been heart broken every time you flinched away from her touches.

Your father had only come once, and he had been carried out by hospital staff after Shouto had tossed him out of your room.

You had retreated into yourself after that, and had come clean to Shouto about some of what had happened while you were being held hostage.

The therapy was helping, and so was the massive support that you were getting from the public and other heroes that had been in similar situations.

Your friends were very understanding of you not touching them as much anymore, and you and Bakugou were closer than ever, since he had experienced something similar.

Today was your first day back in the dorms, and you weren't going to lie to yourself, you were nervous.

The class had slowly starting moving all the gifts that you were receiving into your room, so you were only carrying a small bag.

"Shouto," you began. "You know that you can walk away if I get to be too much right?"

It had been bothering you for a while, that he had stayed with you for so long. It had bothered you that he had given up so much of his time for you, while getting very little from you in return.

"Why would I do that?" Shouto asked cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"I just mean that . . . well, I know that I haven't been the easiest girlfriend to have recently, and I . . . I have more issues than when we first started dating, and things have changed. I'm way more high maintenance than I was. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted a different girl-"

"Stop it right there," he demanded, turning to you.

His eyes were hard, despite his soft tone of voice.

"(Y/F/N), I don't want anyone other than you," he said. "I don't care if you wake me up at three in the morning screaming. I don't care if you sometimes have days where you feel like you can't say anything to me. I don't care if you have days where you can't get out of bed. I love you. I love you more than anything, and those things are not going to stop me from loving you.

"You are one of the strongest women in my life, and I am not letting you go because you have some issues. We've all got issues, hell, I have issues we haven't even touched on. Those things are just another part of you that I get to love. Alright?"

You nodded, blinking back tears.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" you asked softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He waited for a moment before he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You weren't entirely sure why touch was such a problem for you now. Other than the injuries you had received during the fight, nothing had happened to you that would explain it, nothing you could remember anyway.

There had been some retrograde amnesia that went along with your kidnapping, though the doctors had assured you that those memories would come back with enough time.

And they had. There were still a few blank spots, but there weren't nearly as many as there had been.

"All the right things," he murmured, kissing your forehead hesitantly.

"I love you too Shouto," you told him.

He smiled softly at you, then turned towards the doors.

They opened, revealing your friends and a huge banner with your characterized face on it.

"Surprise!" they all said, though they didn't yell it like you had thought they would.

"Welcome home (Y/F/N)," Shouto said, sliding his arm around your shoulders as you both walked out.

Yeah, this was home.

[kingburu]

 Jason wakes up.

 His eyes flutter open to darkness. The air is stale around him—and shallow, as he draws a breath. He looks around, trying to gather his surroundings.

 Almost immediately, Jason hits his head when he tries to sit up. There’s a dense BONK of his head, followed by a soft, “Ow,” from his lips. The word is raw at the back of his throat, almost an inaudible whisper. Jason brushes a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezing shut—but nothing changes as he opens his eyes.

 He reaches out with his other hand and finds a velvety surface in front of him. To the left of him. To the right.

When Jason draws a breath, his lungs shudder. Not only is the air stale—but it’s shallow. There isn’t enough space to stretch the wingspan of his arms. To move around. He’s enclosed in darkness, and his chest already aches with his second breath.

 Jason finds his palm at his chest. His eyes graze the surface of his surroundings—and slowly, he lets a current ripple through the tips of his fingers. The scent of dead skin fills his nostrils, and he wrinkles his nose ever so slightly.

 Velvet darkness beneath the static of his fingers. Jason spits to find out where he’s positioned—which turns out to be on his back, as his own saliva dribbles down his mouth instead. He’s dehydrated. The back of his throat is as dry as a bone—which is when he wonders the last time he had water. The last time he ate, as his stomach aches.

 Jason presses against the top of his prison-hold, which doesn’t budge at his palm. He reaches to either side of him as far as he can (it isn’t—he can hardly bend his arms at the elbows), which feel as stiff as everything above him. He tries to jostle the container—but it doesn’t move. Jason wiggles onto his stomach with gracious effort—and his hands meet more soft velvet. A pillow, even. His fingers touch something wrinkled and rotted, like dry grass—which fall apart between his fingers.

 Twisting back into his original position proves to be a feat.

 Jason stares into the darkness of his velvet prison—and the air only feels thinner.

 There isn’t much oxygen wherever he is. He’ll die of suffocation if he doesn’t find a way out.

 And death…feels cold. Terrifying.

 Jason rifles through his clothes. He finds himself in light linens—something of Greek or Roman garb. There’s nothing to him. No knife, no sword—no weapon.

 “Okay,” he whispers to himself. He swallows hard to find some sort of hydration, then runs his fingers across the corners of his prison. There’s enough there that he can surmise a hard surface beneath the velvet—and if the surface is hard, then it has to be lined. If it’s lined, he can rip it.

 Jason grabs a fistful of fabric and yanks. It doesn’t budge—not right away. He twists his grip and pulls as hard as he can, until a loud RIIIIIIIIIIP fills his ears. 

 The next layer proves to be harder. Jason lights his fingers once more with a ribbon of electricity—which ricochets off his fingers—

 “Jumping Jupiter,” Jason hisses, as the flash of lightning slams into the—wood? 

 Smoke fills his nostrils, singeing the material above him. 

 Okay. Wood. 

 Jason presses his palms against the hard surface, to feel for a latch or a handle. Nothing. He has no weapon. Sparking the wood might start a fire—and Jason’s breath is shallow enough as it is. 

 He thinks back to basic combat training—before his gladius, before his javelin. Before Jason could ever even light a spark—when Lupa reminded him his own body was a weapon. 

 He punches as hard as he can. Nothing budges. 

 Again, another punch. The sound bounces off his surroundings, and his container vibrates. 

 “Hello?” Jason calls out. His voice is raspy. “Is there anyone there?” 

 Nothing. 

 Jason rips the fabric as far as he can. It proves to be difficult as his elbows bend. Which each movement, he feels warmth grow around him. Heat, from moving. 

 And again, Jason punches. He slams his fist as hard as he can I to the lid of his prison until it folds beneath his weight. There’s a give as his fist makes impact, and he feels the small bend from his fist. 

 “Just a couple more,” Jason whispers to himself. 

 He slams another fist into the wood—again and again, as it cracks in front of him, until his fingers burn with pain. It’s…harder, than Jason expects, exerting himself. He’s panting before he knows it—and grows light headed with each movement. Sweat mats his brow. 

 Before his final blow, Jason retracts his arm. His hand bristles with electricity—and he delivers one last hit. 

 CRAAAAAAAAAAAAACK 

 The wood breaks and singes from his fist, until his knuckles hit something cold. 

 Dirt falls on his face immediately. 

 Jason chokes as gravel and soil slams him in the head—and it burns as it reaches his eyes. Dirt spews on him like a waterfall, gushing against his face. Jason tries to plug the hole with his palm, but soil falls between the curves of his fingers. 

 He coughs and gasps for air as his lungs burn, and as his eyes feel like they’re on fire. The realization hits him quickly. 

 Jason’s buried underground like a corpse. 

 How? 

 It takes ages to reorient himself. Jason tries to rub the dirt out of his eyes, but his fingers are caked with soil. His mouth tastes like earth, and his throat feels like it’s on fire. 

 “One more time, Grace,” he mutters. If he doesn’t get out, he’s going to die of suffocation—dirt or not withstanding. 

 He counts to three. 

 One. 

 Two. 

 Three. 

 Jason takes in one last breath. He pulls his hand away and blows as he can at the falling dirt. Soil pollutes his small entrapment and he closes his eyes a second too late—but Jason forces his body up. He sits up as fast as he can—which almost feels like another THONK—and pushes his fingers through the falling dirt. He pries it apart and climbs through what he can as it fills his container. A slab of wood carves his side as he pushes through more dirt.

 There’s only darkness. Jason pushes and peels, while dust permeates around him and his lungs burn. Jason’s legs feel like putty as he pushes forward. The dust alone is enough to make him nauseous. Jason wants to puke as he feels around—for—for something. His head is dizzy from the force. Jason pushes and climbs and peels around him—until at some point, the tips of his fingers hit something different.

 Air?

 Jason’s eyes bristle with a different darkness. His head is dizzy as he tries to wriggle his arms. His limbs feel weak—and his head plunges with a heaviness.

 Before he can pass out, something touches his hand and gives him a forceful yank.

 “JASON!” he hears—the first time he’s heard his name in what feels like ages. “Jason—hold on, buddy—”

 Cold air hits Jason in the face like a whip. He rasps for air, with dirt on his tongue, and his face emerges from the dirt like an overgrown plant. His body isn’t his own as someone—two someones—pull him out of dirt. The air clears his lungs so quickly that it’s intoxicating—and he’s drunk on both sunlight and oxygen.

 Two sets of eyes stare at him, stunned. Jason…recognizes the roundness of one of the silhouettes, and the warm honey eyes of the other—even if it’s blurred under a layer of dirt. They stare at him in horror.

 They…look different. Older.

 “Frank?” Jason whispers softly. His gaze falls to the other person. “Hazel?”

 His taller savior is speechless—staring at him in shock.

 HIs shorter one, with the honey-colored eyes snaps out of it first, her hand flying to her mouth.

 “Jason,” she whispers, her voice wobbly. “You’re—you’re alive. How—?”

 Alive? Jason tries to make out the rest of their surroundings—but he can’t.

 He passes out.

 It’s not until later that he learns that he dug himself out of his own grave.

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[fakescenarios-tohelpyousleep]

crazy golf| evan ‘buck’ buckley

summary| when you blackout on a mini golf course the 118 gets called to the scene

“Your dad?! You have a dad?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the shock that spills from the speakers of your phone. While you had the day off from the firehouse, your boyfriend Buck, wasn’t so lucky. In fact today was when he worked one of the dreaded 24 hour shifts. “Everyone has a dad, Buck.” You laugh at him sarcastically and you can hear your boyfriend scoff over the other end of the call. “I know that, it’s just that... I don’t know, you never really talked about your dad before.” Now you scoff. “Yeah there isn’t much to tell, he left when I was still really young and our communication was little to none throughout the years.” “So explain to me why you’re meeting with him exactly.” You could hear the voice of Chimney make it’s way into the conversation and you could bet that he and Hen had now gathered around Buck to hear the conversation.. if you’re lucky Bobby and Eddie probably joined as well. 

“I don’t know, he and his new family is in town for vacation so I figured why not meet up with them.” As you make your way through your and buck’s shared house to the living room, where you sit yourself on the couch. “If you guys don’t talk, how does he even know you live in LA?” Hen now spoke, proving you correct. “My mom’s Facebook most likely-” Eddie scoffs at the comment. “Oh cause you and your mom talk so much more Ms. I didn’t tell my mom I moved across country.” “You didn’t tell your own mother you moved across the country?” Now Bobby’s voice comes over the speaker... the gangs all here. “Okay shut up both of you!” “Is it really a good idea, Y/N? I mean, you haven’t seen him in years. Are you sure you want to go alone?” Buck’s voice is finally heard again. You could picture the exact face he was making in that moment. The concerned Buck face. “It’s not like he’s a psychopath, Buckley.” “Y/N’s a big girl, she can handle it.” Bobby joked in the background of the call. “Is it just you and him or are there more people that will be there?” “Most likely him and I, his wife, and her 2 kids.” At that the loud ring of the fire bell ignites. “Y/N, we have to go. I’ll talk to you later, be careful, I love you.” “I love you too and shut up about me being careful, take your own advice.” 

_

“Pants, are you crazy girl? It’s 90 degrees out!” The hounded of your father begins the second you approach the group of them at the entree of the mini golf course. “90 degrees is nothing if she goes into burning buildings with practically a winter jacket on.” The countering voice of the eldest step brother replied to his comment before I could. The eldest, named James, was my favorite of the three kids. Not that I saw much of them, but from what I did, he was always the nicest. Kayla, younger than James but older than myself, was always more bitchy, however we knew each other back when she was a teenager. “You’d be surprised for being a firefighter, putting out fires is only like 2 percent of what I do on a day to day.” 

“Hey-” “Stop worrying she’ll be okay.” Buck practically jumped from his skin when Eddie snatched his phone from his hands. Buck frantically looks around to the other as they unpack the truck from the recent call. Chimney and Hen laugh at him for the way he’s acting. “I’m just checking to be safe!” Buck defends snatching his phone back, checking the screen for any miss calls before sighing and sliding his phone back into his pocket. “You’re worrying about an ex-detective turned firefighter meeting up with her dad... how does Y/N deal with you.” Chimney questioned earning another eye roll from Buck. “You just never know. I know what it’s like to not have a good relationship with your parents. I’d be dying right now if I were in her position.” Buck explains and Hen shows a bit of empathy for the boy. “Y/N isn’t you Buck, she’s not any of us, she’s her. If you hadn’t noticed she doesn’t really hold grudges, she gonna go see him, pretend like nothing happened and then when he disappears again she’ll forget that he even came back into her life.”

“Vending Machine, you want anything?” James questioned as you reach the midway point of the course. “My god, yes please.” You huff, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You join James and Kayla near the machine, taking a seat besides Kayla on her bench. “Water please.” “There is only soda.” James calls back and both girls groan, rolling there eyes. “It’s too hot of soda.” Kayla groaned, you nod in agreement. “Sprite, I guess.” “Coke for me.” You lean your head back to hang in exhaustion. “So.. how has LA been? Any boyfriend?” Kayla starts up conversation, different from how she use to be. “Better than back home and yeah, yeah a boyfriend.” “Boyfriend? What’s his name?” James over hears, turning and handing us our respected can of soda. You open it and down half of it, placing the cold can on your neck before replying, “Buck, well Evan Buckley but we call him Buck. We work together.” They nod, as dad and his wife join us ready to continue the game. You go to stand and suddenly stumble back at the blackness that suddenly clouds your vision. “Whoa, Y/N you okay?” Your dad reaches out to stop you from falling. “Yeah, yeah, just stood up to fast. I’m fine.” You remember, you haven’t eaten since you’ve left work the night prior and water.. well water isn’t exactly your drink of choice. “Are you sure?” James double checks. “Yes I’m fine.”You shrug your dad’s arm from your shoulder and start the small uphill hike to the next hole, however before you can get your bearings you’re suddenly on the ground slumped again the rocks of the golf course, the world around you coming in and out. 

The blaring of the alarm puts everyone in the 118 into motion as the team climbs into the firetruck and ambulance and as the truck pulls into drive, Buck’s phone goes off in his pocket. His sister Maddie. “Maddie what is it? We’re on a call-” “Yeah yeah I know, it’s about the call... it’s Y/N.” 

“LAFD please clear the way.” Bobby, followed by the team arrives onto the scene where James is waiting at the beginning of the course to lead them to the still incoherent Y/N. “What exactly happened?” Bobby questioned, Buck and Eddie standing to each side of him as Chimney and Hen make there way onto the course to evaluate her. “We stopped to get a drink from the vending machine and then when we went to continue she went to walk up the hill and just boom, dropped.” “Her vitals are all good, she’s coming in and out, she’s extremely dehydrated!” Hen calls from their position, Hen and Chimney kneels on the ground besides you. “Y/N!” Buck yells going to take off to join them, however, stopped by both Eddie and Bobby. “Buck stop! Go get water from the stand, Eddie from the ambulance get a gerny, I’ll go get Y/N, Eddie set up under the sprinklers here.” “Bobby, let me go get her-” “Buck follow the order.” With a red face, Buck stomps away from his captain in the direction of the convent stand to get water. Bobby treks his way through the course joining half of his team as well as her father and step mother. Hen has already inserted an IV with water into Y/N arm and slowly was she regaining her consensuses. “Y/N, it’s Bobby we’re going to move you, okay?” “Bobby?” You mumbled as he counted to three, lifting you effortlessly, Hen holding the IV bag as Chimney follows with the medical bag in hand. Bobby knows you’re with them as he can feel you holding onto his neck as he carries you but as your head drops forward, he begins talking. “Y/N talk to me.” “I’m okay.” Your voice trails off, head dropping completely backwards as your arms go slightly limb as they arrive to the beginning of the course again, where Eddie had a gerny, Buck had water and sprinklers were raining water lightly down. “Y/N come on, wake up!” Bobby’s voice gets louder as he sits you down completely out cold. “Y/N!” Buck’s voice calls louder as he shoved the bottle of water into Eddie’s hands. “Y/N!” Buck shakes you, both hands on either side of your face and with the shakening and the sprinkling of water as well as the IV coursing water into your body, you’re eyes flutter open. “Buck, I’m fine.” Buck smiles, sighing in relief, his head dropping forward grateful for you’re eyes opening. “Y/N when was the last time you ate?” Hen’s judgmental voice speaks up as her arms cross. “Um-” You shut your eyes tightly, the exhaustion not leaving your body. “Cap, what did you make for dinner late night?” Scoffs from your team fill the air. “You are an idiot.” Buck mumbles besides you and you lightly push him off. “Eddie, go get get a milkshake or something please.” Bobby orders and Eddie nods rushing off to get it. “Chocolate! She doesn’t like Vanilla!” Buck calls after his teammate, his eyes falling to her family, standing just off to the side watching in silence as she mingles with the team that just saved her. “So... I’m assuming that’s Buck?”