#the guilt in john's voice when he said he had to run

[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (7)

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cw: bad attempt at accents

Gaz watches the door slam behind you and turns back to Price, eyebrow raised. "Well, that was'n part 'a the plan," he says dryly. He looks to Soap and Ghost then back at Price. He drops his gaze to where Price still holds his wrist and, voice laced with sadness, says, "Maybe we were too much."

Price angles his head to catch Gaz's eye. He sees his own guilt reflected there. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Ya might be right," he admits.

"Wot 'appened?" Ghost asks, looking from the chair you abandoned to the door to Price.

"Think we might-a come on too strong," Price says. "She'd been skittish at dinner. Who knows wha' she thinks 'a wha' you an' me told 'er seein' what we did tonight." He drops his head into his hands. He knows you need to know about them, but when they first tried to explain their relationship to Laswell, it took months to make her see. To understand. They simply don't have that time with you.

Price knows actions speak louder than words. But it seems they shouted when a whisper might have worked just as well.

You sleep fitfully, chased through your dreams by soft lips, deep blue eyes, a desperate plea, and a broken heart. In the morning, when you hear the others getting ready, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, you pull your things together. As the door to the barracks closes behind them, you head to the bathroom to get ready. You've paid attention to their routine and know they do their first round of training before they eat. If you head to the mess now, you can pick up some coffee and food to take with you, thus avoiding them for now.

You run quickly through the line in the mess, grabbing some fruit before you go. You carry it and a big tumbler of coffee to your office where you proceed to barricade yourself in with all the current intel you have. You check and double-check and triple-check the travel itinerary; the boys leave in four days, and despite your own emotional turmoil, you want them safe. You ignore the text you get from Laswell asking how you're getting on with the boys. Does she know something about them you don't? Instead you respond with a comment about how you know how to get to town if you need to and about Corporal Avery. You keep your thoughts about the 141 guarded.

By lunchtime, you're deeply invested in some older intelligence on the organization the 141 is taking on. It's a series of wire-taps between some of the organization's presumed leaders and local underlings from months ago. You know the audio has been scrubbed six ways from Sunday, but you wouldn't be the best if you didn't follow every hunch, and something tells you there's important information here. If you can find it.

You're so deep down the rabbit hole you don't hear the knocking on your door. You focus on your job and don't realize you've skipped lunch.

You work through to dinner, stopping when your growling stomach reminds you it hasn't had quite enough fuel to keep going at this rate. A glance at the clock shows it's 7:30, far later than you've seen the boys eat. Maybe you can eat in the mess in peace and slip into the barracks unnoticed, but you doubt it.

It's really John you're avoiding. It's not Kyle's fault he kissed his friend? lover? partner? in front of you. He couldn't know what John insinuated earlier that day. He couldn't know the kiss just about broke you. Even Simon, though he said he wants you, didn't do anything to make you feel like he was putting you on. It was Soap who snuggled close. Sure, Simon didn't stop him, but maybe that's how they comfort one another. You know their jobs are harrowing. Maybe this is something they do to cope.

You aren't thinking about food when you walk into the mess, mind still stuck on the 141, so you're surprised to see Soap sitting alone at a table. You consider ignoring him - he hasn't seen you yet - but when he glances up and sees you, his whole demeanor changes. You didn't realize how sad he looked until you think about how happy he is to see you. He waves an arm and starts to rise, looking like he's going to start shouting at you in a moment.

You hurriedly make your way to him, sitting in the space across from him as he takes his seat. "Och, Oz, was thinkin' you'd taken off." It's part tease, part scold. "We didnae knoo whare ye were. Gaz couldnae feend ye for brekkie, ahnd Ghost said no one answered yoor door at lunch."

You bite your lip and look away, torn between being ashamed and frustrated. You finally settle on curious. "I'm a big girl, Soap. I can, and do, take care of myself."

He waves a hand at you. "Aye, we knoo. But we're all keen on spendin' time wi' oor best girl now tha' yoor here." He blushes a bit at this admission but still meets your gaze. "We only have a few days, and I fer one doan wanna miss out on ye if I can help it "

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Soap has always been a sweet talker, but this feels definitively more like flirting than anything he"s said over comms.

He starts talking again, barrelling through your silence. "An' I hope I didnae make ye uncomfortable when I was restin' las' night. He doesnae look it, but Ghost makes a right fine pillow." He winks at you. "I bet you do too. Yoor soothing like tha'."

You hurry to respond. "No, no, I wasn't... uncomfortable? A little surprised I guess. Didn't know it was, well, I don't know what I thought, but it's fine. I'm fine." You know how you sound, tripping over yourself. In an attempt to deflect, you say, "I still need to eat, so..." You trail off and hope he gets the hint to leave, but it seems he's stubborn because he doesn't react. In fact, he leans forward and levers him up when you do.

"Lemme come wi'," he says. "We all had oor scran, but I can keep ye company. Pay ye back for all those nights ye made things less lonely."

You can't really say no when he puts it so sweetly. So you let him accompany you through the line, pointing out what you should try and what to avoid. You don't fail to notice the sounds he makes when you grab your selections, the hums and snickers and scoffs and questioning noises. When you're sure you have a fairly balanced plate - with some extra desserts because it's been one of those days - Soap deftly pays, ignoring your reminder that, "I get a daily meal allowance as part of this placement. It isn't even my money I'm spending." Then he snags your tray, carrying it for you back to your table.

As you eat Soap tells you more about himself, especially his family and how they want him to "settle doon wi' a nice girl." And just as John did the previous morning, Soap looks directly into your eyes as he says it. "Ne'er thought I'd feend one Ah wanted to settle doon wi'. No' really. No' until yoo, Oz."

You sputter for a moment, but really, who wouldn't. Three admissions of desire? love? in two days, and though you aren't quite as shocked by Soap's after both John and Simon, you're still troubled. "What about last night? You and Simon...you seem...close."

Soap nods his head. "Aye, we are. But it doesnae mean my heart is too full for ye." He looks at you so earnestly the recriminations die in your throat. You have feelings for four people all at the same time, after all. Who's to say the same can't be true for Soap. Is that what's going on with John, too?

You take a deep breath and force yourself to meet Soap's eyes. "What, exactly, are you saying, Soap? Are you playing around? Is this a game, or-"

He hastily cuts you off. "No! No no, nothin' li' tha'. I like ye, Oz. Have for a long while." He reaches across the table to hold your hand. "And yoor right. I have feelings foor...Ghost too." He shrugs and focuses on the table, collecting his thoughts. "Guess Ah don't see the point in limitin' mah love when each mission could be mah last." He spears you with his ice blue gaze and drives the point home when he adds, "An' Ah knoo Ah'm no' the only one who thinks tha' way."

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8

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Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write @thriving-n-jiving @madsothree @silly-starfish @danielle143 @beelzebee @nova-willow-541 @alchemyfreak321 @lilynotdilly @eternallyelvish @viylikescats @erintaro @hidden-treasures21

[arthursfuckinghat]

Sorry just thinking about how lovingly Charles talked about where he'd buried Arthur, the softness and somber in his voice, the way he reassured John that Arthur got the proper burial he deserved.

"It's where he would have wanted to be.. a pretty hillside.. facing the evening sun."

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[beloveds-embrace]

The part where Duke John gets a nightmare of the angst au. Now I wanna see the angst duke to suffer. Hear me out, it’s different than dreaming, it’s angst John somehow possessing the body of fluff Duke John and getting to live with the version of him not driving reader to deep depression/running away and marrying her guard. He got to live in that reality for a week before he got violently pull back to his reality where reader is deeply depressed or had already run away and eloped with Konig.

The world felt wrong.

John Price woke up to the sound of birdsong filtering through sheer curtains, soft light spilling across the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, warmth pressed against his side- an unfamiliar yet achingly pleasant weight- like when he had his lovers pressed against him, yet none of them felt like this exact weight. When he opened his eyes, he saw you curled against him, face serene in sleep. His lovers were there, too, the big bed piled with bodies yet he couldn’t look away from you.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t right.

The last thing he remembered was the suffocating darkness of his study- papers piled high, half-empty glasses of whiskey staining the surface, and the emptiness echoing in his chest where something- someone- had once resided. He remembered the guilt that choked him, the bitter taste of regret as he stood outside your bedroom door, too much of a coward to knock.

But now…

You stirred beside him, your lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him, sleepy and soft.

“John?” Your voice was honeyed with drowsiness, and God, the way you said his name- like it was safe, like he was safe.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t his life. Not the one he had shaped, sharp and cold.

You frowned then, pushing yourself up slightly. Your hand, so gentle, so devastatingly kind, pressed against his forehead. “You’re burning up. Did you sleep poorly again?”

Again?

Price swallowed, desperate to ground himself in this strange, impossible reality. His hands- calloused and rough, yet no longer trembling from whiskey and sleepless nights- caught your wrist, holding you still.

“You’re here.” He rasped, as though the words alone could make sense of this.

You tilted your head, confused but not wary. Not frightened of him.

“Of course I’m here, honey ” you said softly. “Where else would I be?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell you about the other you, the hollowed-out ghost he had left behind. The you who no longer smiled, whose laughter had faded into echoes in the corridors of his cold, empty home.

Instead, he pulled you close.

And you let him.

The week that followed felt like a dream- so sweet it hurt, left cavities that rang hallow in his teeth.

John saw the life he had destroyed laid out before him as though mocking him. The version of himself that existed here- this other John- had not made the same mistakes.

Here, you were cherished.

The household bustled around you, every servant greeting you warmly and lingering just a moment longer to share kind words. Kyle hovered near you like a protective shadow, hands gentle as he helped you arrange flowers or carry boxes too heavy for you. Johnny teased you endlessly in the kitchens, offering bites of whatever new dessert he’d concocted until you laughed so hard you had to wipe away tears. Simon, so often stoic, let his guard down completely around you- offering quiet companionship during your walks and even indulging your requests to teach you to paint.

And John…

This John loved you openly.

He wasn’t burdened by guilt, wasn’t weighed down by regret. He touched you without hesitation, lingered at your side as though he couldn’t bear to leave you for even a moment.

It was agonizing.

Because the other John- the one trapped in this perfect, golden life- knew it wasn’t his.

And he knew it couldn’t last.

He clung to every moment, every stolen glance and touch, trying to memorize the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes softened whenever you looked at him. He tried to be the man this version of himself was, desperate to make up for the damage he had done in the life he came from.

But it wasn’t enough. Not when he knew this wasn’t real.

When it ended, it was abrupt.

One moment, he was laughing with you in the gardens, your hand in his as you plucked fresh herbs for dinner. The next, his vision swam- darkness rushing in, cold and sharp and suffocating.

And when he woke, it was to the dim light of his study and the stale taste of whiskey on his tongue, the scene familiar.

He sat up too fast, bile rising in his throat as the world swayed. His heart hammered wildly, panic and disbelief clawing at his chest.

No.

No, no, no.

“Duchess,” he croaked, shoving away from the desk. His limbs were heavy, stiff from disuse, but he didn’t care. He staggered to your bedroom, barely able to keep himself upright.

The door creaked when he opened it (it was locked hours ago, you must have snuck out to scavange for food), revealing a suffocating stillness inside. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of moonlight cut through the crack, illuminating the shape of you curled up on the massive bed.

You looked so small. Achingly so.

John’s chest tightened painfully. His nightmare had come to life again- except now he knew it wasn’t just a dream. He’d lived it. He’d seen what could have been. And now this- this- was what he had done instead.

His knees hit the floor beside the bed.

“Duchess.” He whispered, barely able to say your title through the lump in his throat.

You didn’t move.

Terror gripped him. Were you even breathing? His shaking hand hovered above your shoulder before gently pressing against it.

“Love. Please.”

You stirred, a soft noise escaping your lips as you turned your head just enough for him to see the faint outline of your face. John sucked in another breath, but the sound caught when he saw the dark smudges beneath your eyes. The way your lips looked chapped.

The dullness in your gaze when it finally met his, even clouded by sleep.

“…John?” Your voice cracked, raspy from likely crying your tender little heart out.

God, he hated himself.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he choked, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here, I swear.”

You flinched. Just slightly, but he felt it.

It shattered him. John didn’t let go, though. He couldn’t- not when you felt so fragile beneath his touch. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized had started falling.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so- God, I’m so sorry, love.”

You blinked slowly, as if trying to understand. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I should’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was raw, thick with guilt and grief. “I should’ve- should’ve never let it get this bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t-”

You flinched again, and he fell silent. When you turned away from him, curling in on yourself, his heart nearly gave out.

“Please,” he begged. “Please don’t shut me out. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything- I swear it, I’ll never- never let it get like this again.”

“You don’t- ” Your voice wavered, cracking. “You don’t even like me, John.”

The words pierced him deeper than any blade ever could.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No,” he said fiercely, climbing into the bed beside you without thinking. You stiffened, but he wrapped his arms around you anyway, pulling you against his chest. “No, it’s not true. I do like you- I care about you so much, and I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the worst husband you could’ve ever had, but I swear to you- on my life- that changes now.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he murmured into your hair, pressing trembling kisses against your temple. “I’m not lying. I swear it. You’re my wife. My duchess. And I will spend every single day proving to you that you’re precious to me. I’m so sorry, Duchess. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should’ve never allowed anyone, even my lovers, to treat you like that. I’m so sorry.”

The sob that broke from you nearly killed him, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, your fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and he held you even tighter.

“I’ll fix it,” he swore again, rocking you gently as you weeped against his chest. “I’ll make this right. I’ll protect you from everything- even from myself, if I have to. Just don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me yet.”

The tears didn’t stop for a long time. But by the time your breathing evened out and your fingers loosened their grip, John knew.

He had another chance.

And he would never, ever waste it again.

[oaksgrove]

A Life Left Behind

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x ex!Reader, John Price x Reader

Synopsis: When Price accidentally lets it slip at a pub that he has a missus waiting at home, Simon never suspects it could be you. That is, until a snowy Christmas Eve, when fate leads him past a warmly lit window, where the life he could’ve had reveals itself in full, devastating clarity.

Warnings: Heavy angst, themes of regret and break up, bittersweet holiday vibes.

Word Count: 1214

a/n: I’ve had this idea swirling in my head for a while—it’s pure heartbreak with a festive backdrop. English isn’t my first language, and this was witten in a rush, so thank you for your patience and all the support on my writing!

Manchester, UK. october | 9:20PM | 8°C

The vanilla scent of your favorite candle hung in the air, bittersweet against the tension suffocating the room. It reminded Simon of softer nights—of the evenings you spent curled together on the couch, your laughter filling the silence he’d grown so accustomed to before you. The thought was fleeting, a warm ember snuffed out by the cold reality that now stood between you.

You stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed defensively, your eyes a mix of anger and hurt. Simon loomed near the window, his shoulders hunched as though bracing himself for a blow.

“Say something, Simon,” you demanded, your voice raw with emotion. “Anything.”

He didn’t move at first, his gaze fixed on the street outside. His jaw tightened, the cords of muscle twitching under his skin. “What do you want me to say?” he finally asked, his voice low, restrained—like he was holding back a flood.

You stepped closer, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I want you to tell me this isn’t real. That you don’t mean it when you say it’s better if we break up.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. The conflict in his eyes was like a storm on the horizon—rage, sadness, and guilt all warring beneath the surface. Then he shut it down, closing himself off again. “It is better,” he said, his voice faltering before he hardened it.

“For who, Simon?” Your voice cracked, frustration mingling with the ache in your chest. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

“For you,” he replied, firmer this time. “You deserve someone who can give you more than this—more than me.”

You could only stare at him, disbelief giving way to anger. “You don’t get to decide that for me! I knew what I was getting into, and I’m here, Simon. I chose you!”

His hand went to the back of his neck, a frustrated gesture you’d seen countless times. “I can’t keep doing this to you,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t see it now, but you’ll be better off without me.”

Your mind flooded with memories—of Simon’s quiet presence grounding you after bad days, of his rare, unguarded moments of laughter that felt like secrets shared just between the two of you. The way he would silently slip your favorite mug into your hands during cold mornings, the weight of his arm around you as you fell asleep.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice. “You’re pushing me away because you think it’s what’s best for me? You’re not even giving me a choice.”

His silence was deafening, his eyes locked on the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze.

“I hope you believe that one day,” you said, grabbing your coat.

Your feet carried you to the door, and your hand hesitated on the knob. You wanted him to call out, to fight for you, to prove that this wasn’t just another wall he was building. But he didn’t.

You glanced back, and for a moment, he looked as though he might break—his fists clenched, his body taut with tension. But then his gaze dropped, and the words that could have saved you both never came.

“Goodbye, Simon.”

The door clicked shut behind you, and the cold October air wrapped around you as you walked away. Your legs moved on autopilot, but your mind stayed trapped in the warmth of the memories you were leaving behind.

The time he stayed up with you after your first fight, awkwardly holding your hand as he whispered, “I’m not good at this, but I’ll try.” The way he watched you with something close to wonder the night you wore his hoodie, laughing at his terrible attempt at making pancakes. The rare nights he let you in—told you stories of his childhood, of the people he lost. The first time he said, “I don’t deserve you,” and you kissed him before he could finish.

The sound of your own footsteps became unbearable, each one taking you further away from a man who couldn’t see that he was already everything you needed.

The Old Wellington - Manchester, UK. 1 year later, august | 9:45PM | 10°C

The pub buzzed with life, the comforting chaos of clinking glasses and laughter filling the air. Simon sat in the corner, detached, his untouched whiskey warming in his hand. His team’s voices faded into the background as his thoughts wandered to the edges of places he’d been avoiding.

Soap’s voice boomed above the noise, mid-story and gesturing wildly. “And then, just as the guy thinks he’s outsmarted us, the bloody fence gives way and—bam! Flat on his arse!”

Gaz burst into laughter, his grin wide. “You’ve got to be making that up.”

Price leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “It’s true. I was there.”

Simon stared into his glass, barely hearing the conversation. Soap nudged him with an elbow. “Oi, Ghost, are you alive in there?”

Simon glanced up, forcing a faint smirk. “Listening to you lot’s more entertaining than talking.”

“Sure it is,” Soap teased, raising his glass.

Price set his drink down, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got to go. It’s already late, missus is waiting for me at home.”

Soap nearly choked on his beer. “Wait a minute. You’ve got a missus? Since when?”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Cap. You’ve been holding out on us!”

“She likes her privacy,” Price replied with a shrug, a soft edge to his voice. “But yeah, I’ve got a missus.”

Simon’s grip on his glass tightened. The word missus hit him like a shot, sharp and precise, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

“What’s she like?” Soap asked, clearly intrigued.

Price’s expression softened as he thought about her. “She’s… everything, really. Smart, kind, funny. Keeps me on my toes.”

“She sounds like a saint, putting up with you,” Soap teased with a laugh.

Simon’s chest tightened at the word saint. The thought surfaced before he could stop it. My girl was a saint too…

He swallowed hard, his grip on the glass like a lifeline. He pictured you in his mind—your patience, your warmth, the way you’d look at him like he wasn’t the sum of his mistakes. He’d told himself a thousand times that he’d let you go for your own good, but here he was, haunted by memories he couldn’t shake.

“She is,” Price admitted with a rare smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Simon looked away, draining his whiskey in one gulp. The burn was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

“You good?” Price asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Simon straightened, forcing himself to appear calm. “Just remembered something I’ve got to take care of.”

He stood abruptly, tossing some cash on the table. “Catch you later.”

He left before anyone could question him, stepping out into the cold night air. The sharp chill bit at his skin, but it wasn’t enough to distract him.

She was a saint, wasn’t she? The thought lingered, twisting the knife. But he didn’t deserve saints. He never had.

Manchester, UK. 2 years later, december | 9:45PM | 6°C

Christmas had arrived, cloaking the streets of Manchester in a pristine layer of snow. The world felt hushed, the crunch of Simon’s boots against the frozen ground the only sound in the quiet night. His breath puffed in soft clouds, dissolving into the still air.

He hadn’t planned to be here—hadn’t even realized where his aimless wandering had taken him until he found himself on a familiar street. The glow of your living room window caught his eye, and before he could stop himself, he was standing there, looking in.

The scene inside was alive with warmth. Golden light spilled over the living room, illuminating a Christmas tree laden with ornaments. You stood beside it, a delicate bauble in your hand, your laughter bright as it mingled with the joyous chaos of two young boys crawling around the tree.

Simon’s gaze shifted. Price was there, standing close to you, his arm resting comfortably around your waist. The easy intimacy between you spoke volumes—a language Simon once knew but had long forgotten.

His chest tightened, the ache sharp and familiar. He stood frozen, his breath catching as a memory surfaced unbidden: you, sitting beside him on a cold night like this, your hand in his as you talked about the future. A future he’d convinced himself he couldn’t give you.

Now, here it was, vivid and real—but it wasn’t his.

You turned then, your eyes meeting his through the frosted glass. The moment stretched, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. Your expression softened, a bittersweet smile forming as if you understood everything he couldn’t say.

Simon’s gloved hand brushed the glass, the chill biting through the leather. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine what it would feel like to step inside, to join the warmth instead of watching from the cold.

But he knew better.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, before stepping back. The snow crunched softly beneath his boots as he turned away, his silhouette fading into the quiet night.

The ache lingered, but as he walked, it shifted—no longer a weight that dragged him down, but something softer, bearable. You were happy. That was enough.

The falling snow blurred his footprints behind him, erasing the path he’d taken to get here. Simon didn’t look back, his lips twitching into a faint smile. For the first time in years, he felt the beginnings of peace. Because some losses, though painful, could eventually feel like victories when love found its way to where it belonged.

[multific]

Taskforce 141 When You Use Your Safe Word - Preferences 

Warnings: SMUT, Minors DO NOT interact

It was all beginning to be a little too much.

You knew you should stop him, but you didn't want to disappoint him. You wanted to last as long as he needed you to, you were his good girl after all.

As he said many many times.

But he also said to stop him if it gets too much, he just how much he can get lost in your pussy and how rough he can get.

So, you agreed on a simple safe word, "Red". 

It was for you to use at any given moment. No questions asked he would stop immediately.

You never imagined using it, but as he was mercilessly pounding into you, it became all too much.

You wanted it to end, you needed it to end.

"Red! Please! RED!" you said when you finally caught your breath...

John Price

He stops immediately.

Pulling out as he turns you around, checking your face.

"Sweetgirl, are you okay? Talk to me."

"Too much." is all you could muster. And John immediately felt guilt running down his spine.

He knew the day would come when he went too far. When he would overstimulate you to the point of no return.

"Okay, let's get you into the bath, eh? A nice warm bath." he said as he ran to the bathroom and ran you a nice bath, he then ran back and got you.

Soon, he was sitting next to you on the floor, one of his arms inside the bath, in the water, making sure the temperature was perfect.

"I'm so sorry, Darling. I should have known. You started to move away from me, but I just kept going..."

"It is not your fault John, I should have stopped sooner."

"I should have known."

"It is not your fault." you moved your hand and placed it on his cheek, he turned and kissed your palm. "Make it up to me by cuddling me."

"I will never let you go. I'm truly sorry."

"This is why I have a safe word, John."

"And you were a good girl and used it." he placed a kiss on your head, and he would make sure to cuddle you until the next morning and beyond.

Simon Riley

He would be ashamed but it would take him a second to realize what you just said, but when he does, he moves away from you immediately.

His hands would be shaking as he watched you sit up against the headboard.

"I'm so sorry." he would turn to leave, but you stopped him.

"Simon," your sweet sweet voice. So kind and innocent, he would turn to look at you. "Come back please, I'm cold." how could he ever say no to that?

He grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt, handing it to you as he put on the pants.

He moved close to you, leaning against the headboard, holding you, running his hand up and down your back.

"I'm too sore, it's why I made you stop, I think I'm just too tired."

"I'm glad you spoke up and said something." you moved and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Simon." you tried your best to reassure him, letting him know you were okay.

"I love you too."

Kyle Garrick

In one movement he stopped and looked at you, your back was to him but he heard you clear as day.

"It's too much, Kyle, please."

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" he watched as you nodded and he moved back, turning you around and sitting you up in bed. "How about a shower?"

You nodded again as you slowly calmed down and your breathing evened out.

Kyle watched you closely, making sure you were okay, he even washed you up.

He then carried you to bed, laying you down.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is all good. I'm glad you stopped."

"Of course, I did! It is why I came up with a safe word for you. I'm glad you used it when it became too much." you smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed your lips. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm more sore than hurt now." you said and he held you close. "It really is okay, Kyle."

He knew it was, and he knew it will be, he was just glad he had the presence to stop when he did.

Johnny MacTavish

It took him a moment to realize what you just said.

"Red?" he asked with a confused tone. "Shit." he moved away from you, but still stayed close. "What is it?" he asked and if you wouldn't be so out of it, you would have realized the worry in his voice.

"It hurts, too much." you managed to say.

"How can I help?" he asked, watching your face closely.

"Just hold me, let me sleep."

"Sleep, okay got it."

He pulled you close, turning the lights off as he soon heard your soft snores.

He felt so guilty for hurting you, but he was proud you spoke up.

He spent hours in the dark, thinking and overthinking.

He thought he should have noticed, that he should have realized, but he could recall that he was too focused on the feeling, he got lost in it, and he wouldn't have seen the discomfort because he had his head in the crook of your neck.

But one thing was sure, after this, Johnny would pay extra attention to keep his control and his cool and make sure you are comfortable and you enjoy sex as much as he does.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: JJ does something stupid

I tried to pretend like nothing had happened, that everything was fine. We were going to look for the Royal Merchant hoping to find the gold. When we got to the bottom and found the shipwreck, that happiness soon turned into utter disappointment. It wasn't there. Who knows if it had ever been there honestly.

We were headed back to the Chateau and everybody was upset, everything has led up to this and now we don't know where to go from here. Hopefully, someone has a major breakthrough on what to do. We tied the boat up to the dock and headed our separate ways. John B went home, Kie went to the Wreck, Pope went to the library, JJ went home, and I went for a walk. We all just needed our space for a little bit to think about what to do next.

I was walking along the beach, enjoying the weather. It was cloudy and a little windy, which almost messed up our finding the Royal Merchant earlier, but my favorite weather. The dreary weather has always been comforting to me. I wasn't on my walk for long before I heard my name being called. I turned around and saw Rafe and his goons. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. "Rafe," I said back to him in a drawn-out voice, "Who are you mad at now?"

"Who the hell do your friends think they are?" He yells back at me, causing me to flinch at the sudden change in tone. I take a step back and find my back hitting Topper's chest. "Really, Rafe? I know you hate me, but three to one is a little unfair, dontcha think?" I look behind me at Topper and then over to Kelce who is standing next to Rafe. I cross my arms, annoyed that my walk was being interrupted. Rafe got close to me and took hold of my wrist which caught me off guard. "What the hell, Rafe," I curse at him trying to pull my arm away. That's for sure to leave a bruise.

Rafe gets close to my face causing my heart to beat faster. "Tell those boyfriends of yours that we know," he whispers into my ear. He backs away, still holding my wrist in his hands, and looks at me. I give him a confused look before ripping my wrist away from his grip. He pats the side of my face and smirks before walking away. He glances back at me one last time before I turn and walk away. It didn't take me long before I got to JJ's house. Luke was gone, probably getting drunk.

"JJ, what the hell did you do?" I ask him walking into the backyard where he was sitting. He stands up to look at me. "Why did Rafe, Top, and Kelce just stop me on the beach?" As soon as I mentioned the three, I could see the anger flash through his face. He walks over to me and runs a hand through his hair.

"What did they say?" he asks with guilt lacing his voice. I roll my eyes at him, "They didn't say shit to me J," I say louder this time, getting frustrated over the entire situation. "He said to tell those boyfriends of mine that we know," I repeated what I was told. JJ lets out a sigh before turning around and sitting down.

"So, uh," he starts explaining looking up to me, "you know how Pope had that cut on his forehead?" I nod my head, still not understanding. "Rafe and Topper jumped him, beat him up with a damn golf club. I couldn't just stand by and let them get away with it." JJ looks down and plays with the rings on his fingers, "We sunk Topper's boat."

I look at him with wide eyes, not able to think of what to say to him. He stands up and walks over to me, grabbing my hands. He looks down and I feel his grip loosen, "What is this?" He points to the forming bruise on my wrist. He looks up at me with pleading eyes, "How do you think Rafe stopped me?" I said with anger laced in my voice. I try to storm away from him, but he runs in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Rafe did that?" I nod my head at him and continue walking, "Will you please just talk to me?"

"J, please just," I look him in the eyes and can see the worry in them, "leave me alone." He is taken aback and steps aside, letting me walk away. I turn around and look at him, "I just need a second."

It was more than a second by a few hours. I just needed a second to think about what they did before I responded out of anger. I walk to the Chateau and see JJ by the dock. He's looking over the edge of the railing. I start walking up to him and he turns around and just looks at me. He raises his eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing. "I'm sorry J," I tell him walking up to him and resting my elbows on the railing. He hasn't taken his eyes off me, "I didn't mean to just leave." I apologize.

"It's just, what you did was extreme and then on top of that, involving Pope? He's got the most going for him out of all of us, he can't get caught up in something like this." JJ looks out to the open water before looking back at me.

"You know why I didn't tell you?" I look up at him and mumble a small no. "I didn't tell you, not because you'd be mad, but because I know you would try to help," he tells me as he looks down at me. "I couldn't bear the thought of you getting in trouble. Pope agreed to this, but we both agreed you couldn't know."

"JJ, I don't understand why though," I tell him and turn around to lean my back against the railing. "Why would it matter if I tried to help?"

JJ takes my hand and places his hand on the bruise that was left by Rafe earlier. "This," he looked down at my wrist, "this is why we didn't tell you. You didn't know shit and this happened. I love you, but you have a mouth on you," JJ chuckles at the last part, but I can't stop thinking about what he said. "Rafe is a douchebag of the finest order and if you knew more, this might've been worse." He holds my hand in his and is tracing the bruise on my wrist.

"JJ," I look up at him to find him staring into my eyes, "Did you just say you love me?" I could see the red tint on his face immediately. He quickly looked away. He let go of my hand and I felt all the cold I felt before return. "You've just never said that to me before."

I look down at my feet, trying to ignore the heartbreaking feeling. I went to walk away before I heard him say, "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner." I look up and turn around to face him. He's still looking out at the open water. "I couldn't bear to see you hurt because I love you. Not like how I love the rest of the Pogues." He turns around to face me, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about Topper's boat, but I knew if you knew, you'd be in more danger."

I went and grabbed JJ's hand, "I can take care of myself you know." I tell him which causes him to chuckle. "I know you can," he leans down and places a kiss on my lips. He places his hand on my back and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.

Kie yells at us from the house that we were going to be late for the movies. We back away from each other, hoping she didn't see. "I could get used to that," JJ whispers in my ear before walking back to the house, leaving me speechless to what just happened. Maybe I needed to get mad at him earlier for this to happen. I chuckle at the thought before following after him. Once I see Kie isn't outside anymore, I place my hand in his and he places a small kiss to my temple.

We headed to the movies and, let's just say, all shit broke loose by the end of the night.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Six

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU .... eventually lol

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Idiots, angst, Buckys dumb for like no reason at all. Poor steve :(

A/N: Okay im uploading part 7 directly after this cuz yall were patient when i said i was uploading part 6 last night and never did lmao, also the next two are just kinda build ups bucky and reader gonna have some words.........

Masterpost

----

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair as he looks at Steve and Sam, who are both waiting, wide-eyed. “Do you remember that party at John Walker’s house? It was a couple of years after you dropped out, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes narrow, thinking back. “Yeah, I only heard about it because Wanda said it got messy. And Steve… you were the one who became the keg stand champion, right?”

Steve smirks at the memory. “Yeah, that was one for the books. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

Bucky looks down, his voice soft, almost reverent. “That night… something happened between us. We’d been drinking, and one thing led to another. We, uh, we…. slept together.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Steve’s eyes go wide, and Sam’s jaw drops. Finally, Steve manages, “Holy crap, Buck. You two just… jumped from being best friends to that?”

Bucky nods, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember. And that night… it felt like everything. I thought maybe… maybe it meant the same to her.” His face darkens, his voice dropping. “But when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Just… vanished. Didn’t say a word. And after that, she wouldn’t even meet my eyes for weeks.”

Sam shakes his head, completely floored. “So you’re telling us that you two had this whole moment… and then she just left?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, still looking down. “I thought maybe she was spooked, it was a lot, so I gave her some space but…” He trails off sighing, “Maybe she regretted it, or felt ashamed. Hell, I even started to think she was disgusted with herself for… being with me.”

Steve rubs his forehead, staring at Bucky with a mix of disbelief and pity. “So you’ve just… never talked about it? Not once?”

“No,” Bucky says with a bitter laugh. “She wouldn’t, and I wasn’t gonna force her to. I figured if she wanted to pretend it never happened, then that’s what we’d do, yknow id do anything for her”

Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Buck, everyone’s known she’s been in love with you since forever. She probably thought you saw it as a drunken mistake.”

Bucky stares at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Your reputation in college, at least when I was there” Sam says bluntly. “She probably thought she was just another notch on your belt. Especially if she’d heard any of those rumours.”

Bucky looks between them, realisation dawning as he mutters, “She knew those were just rumours, were best friends, she knows me better than that, right? She had to have known they were just rumours.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “How was she supposed to know, Buck? Everyone around campus talked about you like you were this heartbreaker, this guy who couldn’t be tied down. Best friend Bucky and relationship you are two different Bucky’s to her… can you blame her for thinking that night didn’t mean anything to you?”

Bucky stares at the floor, his expression twisted with guilt and frustration. “I just… I thought she’d know I’d never do that to her. That she was different, of course she is different it's her, she has to know that!” He clenches his fists. “I thought she was the one regretting it.”

Sam lets out a sigh, leaning forward. “So let me get this straight. You both spent years walking on eggshells, thinking the other didn’t care, and you’re both probably miserable because of it.”

Bucky shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer to leave it alone. I thought it was better to have her in my life as my best friend than risk losing her altogether. I’d rather have had some of her than none at all.”

Steve shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his face. “You two have been dancing around each other all this time. It’s like you’ve been playing some drawn-out, painful game of cat and mouse.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s hollow. “Guess we’re both idiots.”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Bucky looks up, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know. I thought I’d missed my chance. But… if she still feels the same, if there’s even a part of her that still cares…”

Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Then it’s worth fighting for, Buck. Don’t let another night slip by without her knowing how you feel, you’ve wasted enough time already”

Bucky’s face hardens with resolve, determination mingling with the lingering fear in his eyes. “You’re right. I have to tell her. I just hope… I hope it’s not too late. You’re a good friend, Steve. Thanks for this.”

Steve musters a small, bittersweet smile. “Of course, Buck. Anything for you.”

Inside, though, a quiet ache flares—a familiar, constant ache he’s learned to bury deep down. Unrequited love is painful enough, but what gnaws at Steve isn’t just his own longing. It’s the years he’s spent watching the two people he cares about most teeter on the edge of something real, only to pull back time and again. He’s seen Bucky’s yearning masked as indifference, her stolen glances that went unnoticed, and all the missed moments that could have been… if only one of them had been brave enough.

To Steve, there’s a nobility in his silence—a duty to let them find happiness, even if it’s not with him. It would be easy to resent Bucky for hurting you, for treating your feelings like a burden. But Steve can’t bring himself to feel anything other than empathy. Bucky’s been as lost as you have, caught in a battle he’s too proud or too scared to admit.

He knows, deep down, that his own feelings don’t matter here. What matters is that they have a chance, a real chance, at the happiness he’s always wanted for you, even if its not with him. And if he has to carry his love quietly, if he has to keep his own heartache in check for them, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Go tell her, Buck,” Steve says quietly, the weight of unspoken words heavy in his voice. “And don’t waste a single moment. You both deserve to know the truth.”

Bucky meets his gaze, nodding with a unsure but trusting smile. He has no idea of the sacrifice Steve is making in this moment, Steve watches him, swallowing the longing and sadness that’s always there but will never be voiced. In his own way, he’s choosing love too—a selfless love that finds peace in seeing her happiness, even if it’s not

with him.

Sam glanced at Bucky, his brow furrowing. “Hold on a second, what about Kate?”

Bucky’s face falls at Sam’s question, the name he’s been trying not to think about suddenly hitting him like a weight in his chest. Kate. Sweet, caring, loyal Kate, who had seen the best in him when he couldn’t see it himself, who had been there quietly beside him, hoping he’d come around.

He hesitates, avoiding his friends’ eyes as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I… I don’t know. Kate deserves the truth too. I thought maybe she was what I needed to finally… to finally move on.” He sighs, the regret heavy in his voice. “But that was just me lying to myself. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Sam nods, a hint of sympathy in his expression. “Kate’s a good person, Buck. She doesn’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.”

Bucky looks down, guilt clawing at him. “I know. And I hate that I’ve made her one. She should be with someone who’s all in… and that’s not me. It’s not fair to her.”

Steve studies Bucky’s face, understanding but also concerned. “So, you’re going to talk to her?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah. She deserves to know. I need to be honest with her before I can… before I can even think about anything else.”

Steve claps a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Good. She deserves that much.”

That afternoon, Bucky texts Kate, asking if they can meet up. His heart pounds as he waits for her reply, the thought of ending things with her weighing heavily on his mind. She responds quickly, suggesting they meet at the same little coffee shop from the day before, and he heads there with a mix of dread and resignation.

When he arrives, Kate is already seated at their usual table, a soft smile brightening her face when she sees him. It makes the ache in his chest deepen—he knows that after today, that smile will probably disappear, and he’ll be the one responsible for it.

“Hey,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “You sounded serious in your text. Everything okay?”

Bucky nods, though the heaviness in his gaze betrays him. “Yeah, I… I just needed to talk to you about something. Something I haven’t been fair about.”

Kate’s smile fades slightly, a hint of concern clouding her expression. “What is it?”

He opens his mouth to explain, but the words get stuck, the weight of everything catching up to him. “Kate… I don’t know how to say this. You deserve so much more than I’ve been giving you. I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t… I haven’t been fully here.”

Kate’s face softens as she reaches out, gently placing her hand over his. “Bucky, I know this hasn’t been easy for you. I know you’re… complicated. But I’m here because I want to be. Because I care about you, whether you’re all in or not.”

He shakes his head, guilt gnawing at him. “You deserve better than ‘complicated,’ Kate. I thought I could be the guy you deserve, but I just… I can’t be.”

She watches him for a long moment, and then her voice drops, quiet but sure. “Bucky, I knew what I was getting into when I fell for you. I know you’re still figuring things out, and I can be patient. I can wait if that’s what you need.”

Her words stop him in his tracks. There’s an unflinching loyalty in her eyes, a warmth and steadiness that he’s never fully appreciated until now. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, and the weight of her gaze makes his chest tighten.

“Kate, I…” he starts, but she squeezes his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Bucky, I know there are things you haven’t told me, things you don’t think I understand. But I’ve seen the way you look at me, and I think… I think we could really have something if you let us.” Her voice trembles slightly, but she holds his gaze, her own eyes filled with a quiet determination.

For a moment, he’s silent, trying to process what she’s offering him. Kate’s hope, her patience, her willingness to wait for him—it’s more than he deserves, more than he ever thought he’d find with anyone. And he realizes, with a pang, that he can’t bring himself to end things with her today. Not with the sincerity in her voice, the openness in her gaze.

After a long moment, he forces himself to nod. “Thank you, Kate. For… for everything…”

She smiles, a relieved smile that makes him feel even worse, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything more. The truth—the messy, painful truth—will have to wait. For now, he’ll accept her patience, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

---

You sit back on Natasha’s bed, letting out a long sigh, the wine making you feel just the tiniest bit lightheaded as you stare up at the ceiling.

“I can’t go home,” you mutter. “Bucky’s over at Steve and Sam’s tonight but, when he comes home, I… I just can’t face him right now. Not after everything.”

Natasha gives you a soft smile. “Of course, you can stay here. You’re always welcome.”

Wanda chimes in, wrapping an arm around you. “We’ll have a proper girls’ night. Forget about all that for now.”

You smile, feeling a wave of relief. As you settle back, Natasha glances over at you with a knowing look. “So… what about Dean?”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Oh, God. I completely forgot about Dean.”

Natasha grins. “I can text him, say you got cold feet or something?”

You shake your head. “No, just… leave it. Honestly, with everything that’s happened… I don’t know. I keep thinking… what if Bucky doesn’t feel that way anymore? What if all of that—what I thought we shared—meant nothing to him?”

Natasha sighs, squeezing your hand. “Look, whatever you decide to do, I’m here. I’ve always got your back, babe.”

She pauses, giving you a smirk. “But you know… we’d choose you in the divorce, right?”

You let out a laugh, grabbing a pillow and swatting her with it. “There will be no choosing! And no divorcing! Bucky and I… we’ve been friends since we were five. I don’t know what I’d do if he… if he really was out of my life for good.”

Natasha’s gaze softens. “Then don’t let him be. You’re braver than you think. Just… be honest with him. You might be surprised by what he has to say.”

You fall quiet, her words lingering, filling you with equal parts hope and dread as you lay back, trying to gather the courage for whatever comes next.

The sun is bright, and the streets are bustling as you and Natasha stroll through the city, bags in hand and laughter spilling between you as you move from shop to shop. It feels like old times, light and easy, and after last night’s heart-to-heart, you’re almost… hopeful.

You’re telling Natasha about the cute little coffee shop you spotted around the corner when, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a familiar head of tousled hair. You stop mid-sentence, freezing as you take in the scene just a few yards away: Bucky, hand in hand with Kate, both of them laughing, utterly absorbed in each other.

Your stomach sinks. You watch, feeling your heart twist as Bucky leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, his smile wide and unguarded in a way you’d never been able to see up close until now. He looks… happy. Truly, genuinely happy.

Natasha’s gaze follows yours, her face tightening with sympathy as she watches you take in the scene. “You okay?” she asks softly, though you can tell from her tone that she already knows the answer.

You tear your eyes away, blinking quickly to clear the sting in your eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s… let’s just keep going.”

Natasha squeezes your arm, and the two of you turn, heading back down the sidewalk. But as you walk, a hollow feeling settles in your chest, everything from the night before swirling in your mind—the confessions, the memories, the what-ifs. And now… this.

By the time you reach the next shop, you’ve already made up your mind. Bucky Barnes doesn’t think you’re worth it, and that’s that. Whatever you felt, whatever might have been between you in the past, it’s all in your head.

You glance over at Natasha, forcing a smile. “You know what? Let’s just forget about Friday. I’m not gonna… I don’t want to dwell on it anymore. He’s happy. I’m happy for him. I think… I think it’s time to just move on.”

Natasha studies you, a trace of concern in her eyes, but she nods, letting it go for now. “Okay. We’ll let it go. But… if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here.”

You nod, grateful. And just like that, you tuck the memories away, pushing everything—Friday night, college, all of it—back into a box in your mind.

After a long day of shopping, you and Natasha are finally heading back. She raises an eyebrow at the bags in your hands. “You know, you’re welcome to crash at mine again tonight if you don’t feel like facing him.”

You shake your head, trying to laugh it off. “Nah, I’ve got some work I need to finish up on my computer. Plus, I already paid rent for the month, and you know better than anyone how ridiculous rent is in New York. Can’t avoid him forever, right?”

Natasha gives you a look but doesn’t push it. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

You thank her and give her a quick hug before parting ways, gathering every ounce of courage as you head home. But when you open the door to your apartment, your heart sinks: Bucky’s there, sitting on the couch—with Kate. She’s nestled beside him, looking as comfortable as if she lives there.

As soon as you step in, Bucky’s eyes shoot to yours, and the intensity in them nearly stops you in your tracks. You can read him too well, even now. In those blue eyes, you see a mix of emotions flickering back and forth—regret, sadness, something that almost looks like relief—but you have no idea which is for you and which might be for Kate.

Kate is the first to break the silence, greeting you with a friendly smile. “Hey! How are you? Did you have a good weekend?”

You put on your best casual smile, keeping your gaze mostly on her and avoiding Bucky’s searching eyes. “Yeah, it was nice. Just got a little shopping done with Nat.” You hold up your bags, laughing softly. “Guess I went a little overboard.”

Kate laughs, glancing at the bags. “Looks like you did some damage! Special occasion or just a treat-yourself kind of day?”

You hesitate, then, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I’ve got a date on Saturday,” you say lightly, shrugging. “Needed something nice.”

“Oh!” Kate’s face lights up. “Natasha mentioned that on Friday. I’m so happy for you!” She’s smiling warmly, but you can still feel Bucky’s gaze piercing right into you, as if he’s trying to read something hidden just beneath the surface. He doesn’t say a word.

You force yourself to look away from him, meeting Kate’s eyes. “Thanks,” you say, giving her a polite nod. “Anyway, I should go put all this away.”

“Sure thing!” Kate laughs again. “Hey, if i dont see you before then, good luck on your date—he’s a lucky guy.”

You manage a smile, your heart twisting in ways you don’t want to acknowledge. “Thanks, Kate. You two have a good night.”

As you turn to head to your room, Bucky finally speaks up, his voice a little rough. “You don’t have to go, you know. You can hang out with us.”

You pause, turning just enough to look at him, this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to him and the words that come out cut your throat, you shake your head. “No, I’m okay James….thanks, though.”

And with that, you disappear into your room, shutting the door softly behind you. Only then do you release the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes as you try to settle your racing heart.

----

The week passed in a fog of work and silence, each day dragging as you went through the motions with an ache in your chest that you couldn’t shake. It felt surreal to be in the same office as Bucky, the silence between you heavy and stifling. The two of you used to share everything—your worries, victories, and endless conversations. Now, there was a chasm between you, one neither of you seemed willing to bridge. Each day stretched endlessly, and this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him in as long as you could remember.

At first, you tried to keep things normal, focusing on your work, staying in your lane. But the tension between you was like a third person in the room, and it made everything feel unsteady. You couldn’t help stealing glances at him, watching the way he laughed with the others, though even that sounded hollow. You missed the easy camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the playful banter. Now, every moment felt loaded, thick with unsaid words and unspoken longing.

By Wednesday night, you were drained—emotionally and physically exhausted. You’d promised yourself you’d join the group for Wing Wednesday, but as the day wore on, a familiar dread settled in your stomach. The thought of sitting across from Bucky, acting like everything was fine, felt impossible. So, you stayed home, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, wishing you could shake the emptiness that clung to you.

The next evening, desperate to clear your mind, you found yourself at the grocery store. You wandered the aisles, filling your cart with essentials, hoping the routine task would offer a brief escape. You were reaching for a can on the top shelf when a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey! You’re alive!”

You turned to see Steve approaching, a wide grin lighting up his face. He pulled his cart up next to yours, his eyes warm with that steady kindness that always made you feel a bit lighter.

“Yeah, just barely,” you replied with a faint smile. “It’s been… a rough week.”

“We missed you at Wing Wednesday,” he said, his tone light but laced with concern.

You sighed, biting your lip. “Yeah, I just… wasn’t feeling up to it.”

Without asking, he reached over and took a couple of your bags from the cart, lifting them effortlessly. “Let me help you with these.”

You walked beside him, the weight of your bags lightened by his presence. The chill of the evening air hit your face as you stepped outside, a reminder that life was still moving around you, even as you felt stuck.

“Thanks, Steve,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He glanced over, his expression growing serious. “Hey… don’t push the rest of us away. Don’t push me away because of Bucky and his nonsense.”

A sad laugh escaped you, more bitter than you meant it to be. “I’m not trying to, Steve. It’s just… hard. It’s been hard for so long, and… I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

Unshed tears blurred your vision, and you looked down, trying to keep them at bay.

Steve’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You furrowed your brow, glancing up at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words, as if deciding how much to reveal. Finally, he sighed, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. “I’ve been in love with someone too… someone who I know doesn’t feel the same way.”

You felt your heart race, wondering who he could mean. You’d always thought of Steve as your steady friend, the one who was always there. A name popped into your head—Natasha, maybe? She was magnetic, effortlessly commanding any room she walked into.

“Who?” you asked softly, not wanting to pry but unable to help yourself.

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place, before glancing away as you approached your apartment door. Ignoring your question, he murmured, “There’s a difference, though.”

“What difference?”

He paused, then looked back at you, a weight of unspoken words in his gaze. “Yours… isn’t unrequited like you think it is.”

You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. “What are you saying?”

Steve held your gaze, his voice firm but kind. “I mean, you don’t see how he feels about you. You’re letting your own doubts twist what’s really there. You think he doesn’t want you, but I can tell you he does.” He reached up, gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

You swallowed, your heart racing. “Steve, I—”

He raised a hand, gently stopping you. “Just think about it, okay? Don’t shut me out. I know you’re hurting, but… my life without you in it would feel empty.”

He offered a soft, bittersweet smile, and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to go, leaving you standing at your door, heart pounding and mind racing.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 1✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, John being a dick

Word Count: 5697

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The air in the bar felt thick, heavy with the scent of spiced cider and a faint edge of old whiskey, blending into the murmur of low conversations and a crackling rock song on the jukebox. You’d come here tonight for a quiet drink, something to chase away the chill of early autumn and the memories that always seemed to creep up on you this time of year. But all thoughts of peace vanished the moment you saw him.

Dean Winchester.

He was older, his jawline sharper, more rugged than you remembered. But it was him, sitting across the bar, just as cocky and self-assured as he’d been five years ago. He was laughing at something, a low, rough laugh, and you could just make out his voice. Next to him was a younger guy with shaggy hair—his little brother, you guessed. The kid was a bit taller than you’d imagined, but something in the way Dean looked at him told you it had to be Sam.

Five years.

It had been five years since Dean Winchester had walked out of your life, without so much as a word or even a backward glance.

Three months was all it had taken for him to slip past your defenses, just long enough to make you feel something real—just long enough for him to break your heart.

You’d told yourself you’d moved on, but now, seeing him here, you weren’t so sure.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or furious. What the hell was he doing here, sitting at the bar in your town, like he hadn’t left a storm behind him? You felt your hands curl into fists at your sides, trying to keep your breathing steady as you watched him lean into his conversation, completely unaware of your presence.

You clenched your fists tighter, the old hurt and bitterness simmering to the surface. Five years might as well have been five days with the way the memories rushed back.

Dean had been your first everything—first real crush, first kiss, first love, first time.

He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like nothing else mattered when you were together. But then, without so much as a word, he was gone. Left you staring at empty halls, his laugh an echo that haunted you long after he disappeared. You’d never gotten an answer, just silence.

And now, here he was, like some ghost from a past you’d never properly buried.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed away the hesitation. You weren’t a teenager anymore; you deserved answers. And damn it, he needed to know that some things didn’t just disappear.

You took another step forward, just enough for him to catch sight of you from the corner of his eye. His head turned, and when he saw you, his face went slack with surprise, the hint of a smile fading as quickly as it had come. His green eyes—those same ones that had once looked at you like you were his whole world—widened slightly.

“(Y/N)?”, he said, your name a quiet murmur, almost like a question, as though he couldn’t believe it was really you.

The casual surprise in his tone snapped something inside you. For a second, you just stared back, holding his gaze, letting him feel every bit of anger that had built up over the years.

“Surprised?”, you asked, letting a little edge slip into your voice. “You look pretty good for a ghost, Winchester”.

He blinked, the surprise melting into something else—guilt, maybe, or regret, though he tried to hide it quickly behind that familiar cocky smirk. But it didn’t reach his eyes, and you could see he was still searching for the right words, like he hadn’t quite prepared for this confrontation.

“Didn’t think I’d run into anyone from back then”, he finally said, a little hesitant, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back then?”, you laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You mean five years ago, when you left without a word? Disappeared like none of it mattered?”.

His expression softened, and he glanced away, jaw tightening. “Look, (Y/N), it’s… it’s complicated”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you looked Dean up and down, letting the silence settle between you. The discomfort in his face was almost satisfying, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam giving you a small, awkward wave, clearly recognizing you too. He looked between you and Dean, shifting on his feet.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, need to use the restroom”, Sam mumbled, flashing an apologetic smile before slipping away, clearly eager to avoid whatever confrontation was brewing between you and his brother.

“Complicated”, you repeated, letting the word hang heavy between you. “That’s all you’ve got after all this time?”.

He flinched, looking up to meet your eyes, and for the first time, you saw something raw there, a vulnerability he hadn’t let you see back then.

“(Y/N), I know it sounds like an excuse”, he began, his voice dropping low, careful, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear what he was about to say. “But I had no choice. My dad… he needed me, and we had a job to do. I couldn’t stay, couldn’t keep you in that mess”.

You scoffed, trying to brush off the way his words still managed to stir something deep inside you, that same helpless longing you’d tried so hard to bury. “Right”, you mumbled, voice thick with the bitterness you’d been carrying. “So you just left, thinking it’d be better for me. Meanwhile, I was left to… to deal with the fact that I fell for you, Dean. Fell hard, too”.

He looked up, his expression softening with surprise and guilt, but you pressed on, feeling the words rush out, bitter and relentless.

“You waltzed in, got under my skin, made me believe… Fuck. I was such an idiot”. You shook your head, feeling the sting of it, years after you’d tried to laugh it off, to forget. “Every guy after you didn’t stand a chance, you know that? No one ever got close because, no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You twisted me up so bad in those few weeks, like some lovesick kid, just waiting for someone who never even bothered to say goodbye”.

Dean’s shoulders dropping slightly as he listened, as if your words were pressing down on him. He didn’t look away, though—he let you speak, let you throw every hurt and frustration at him without backing down. When you finally stopped, breath catching in your throat, he exhaled, like he was trying to find something, anything, to say that might make this better.

“(Y/N)”, he started, voice rough. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to come back, to give you some kind of answer. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave again. And my life, this life I was born into… it wasn’t fair to pull you into it. It wasn’t fair to you”.

You shook your head, fighting the sting of tears, refusing to let him see just how deep this still hurt. “So you just decided for me? Dean, I’m not some fragile thing. I could’ve handled it”.

Dean sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck, frustration and regret etched into his face. “Hell, (Y/N), you were only sixteen at the time. Sixteen. You were… you were just a kid. You wouldn't have been able to handle it”, he murmured, the words coming out almost reluctantly, like admitting them hurt as much as hearing them.

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with every bit of bitterness and hurt you’d kept buried for years. “What, old enough to get fucked but not old enough to be talked to?”.

Dean flinched, the words hitting him like a slap. For a second, he didn’t look up, the guilt and shame clear on his face as he shifted uncomfortably, searching for the right words. “That… that’s not what I wanted it to be”, he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted you to feel used, like it didn’t mean anything. Because it did… you meant something to me, (Y/N). More than I knew how to handle back then”.

Dean took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor again as he struggled with words he couldn’t seem to say. The regret was clear in his eyes, the weight of things left unsaid hanging heavy between you.

You could almost see the thoughts playing out in his mind, the memories stirring. Back then, you’d been the only girl to ever make him feel something real—something beyond the easy, shallow hookups he’d drowned himself in afterward. Every girl since had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to bury the ache that losing you had left behind. But with you… it had always been different. You were the one he could never quite forget.

But none of that slipped past his lips. Instead, he stood there, wrestling with the weight of his own silence, unable to give you the honesty you deserved. Maybe he feared it would only hurt you more, or maybe he knew that nothing he said would make this right.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet, almost desperate plea. “You’re right. You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I thought about coming back more times than I can count. Thought about finding you, explaining… But every time, I stopped myself. Figured you’d moved on, that you were happier without me dragging you down. And… I was scared”. He laughed softly, bitterly. “I was scared of exactly this. Of seeing how much I’d hurt you”.

His words hit you like a wave, but you kept your expression steady, refusing to let the hurt show again.

You sighed, feeling the weight of all those years settle in your chest, a bittersweet ache you’d learned to live with but never really let go of. “I thought so highly of you back then, Dean”, you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “I guess I was just a stupid little girl, thinking you were… I don’t know, some kind of hero”.

Your gaze flickered over him, taking in the familiar jawline, the strong shoulders, the way he still carried himself with that careless confidence. He looked so much the same that it hurt—like no time had passed at all, like he hadn’t been the ghost haunting your memories, the person you’d tried to convince yourself you were over. And yet, here he was, just as handsome, and the old ache you thought you’d buried crept back in, uninvited and relentless.

Dean looked away, swallowing hard, like your words struck something raw in him. When he met your eyes again, he looked almost small, a shadow of the confident guy you’d known, as if every regret he carried had finally caught up to him.

“You weren’t stupid, (Y/N)”, he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself. And maybe I didn’t deserve it. Hell, I know I didn’t. But you were never stupid for believing in me. You were… you were just too good for someone like me. Still are”.

The honesty in his voice was like a knife, cutting through every defense you’d built. You’d wanted him to admit what he’d done, to see how he’d hurt you, but hearing it now, hearing him lay it out in plain words, didn’t bring the satisfaction you’d imagined. It only left a hollow ache where your anger had been.

Dean watched you, his gaze softening as the anger in your eyes began to fade, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. You’d spent years thinking he was just another guy who wanted what he could get and didn’t care who he hurt to get it. A fling, a mistake, a heartbreak that was yours alone to carry. But as you looked at him now, the regret in his face, the years of silence suddenly seemed to make a little more sense. Maybe it hadn’t been so simple after all.

You could almost see him back then, barely nineteen, just a kid himself, weighed down by responsibilities he never asked for.

-Flashback-

The sun was barely breaking over the horizon that day, casting a dim light across the worn-down motel room they’d been staying in for the past weeks. Dean had just started to drift back to sleep after another restless night when he heard his dad. He groaned, barely cracking his eyes open as his dad’s voice cut through the motel room.

“Dean! Get your ass up, we’re moving out in ten!”.

Dean shot up, a surge of panic replacing the sleep in his veins. “What? Now?”, he mumbled, scrambling out of bed, his heart sinking. They weren’t supposed to leave this town for at least a few more days—long enough for him to say goodbye, to figure out how to explain things to you without breaking every promise he’d made. Long enough to try to leave things right, to tell you why he couldn’t stay.

But John was already packing, barely glancing at him as he tossed weapons into duffel bags, his movements efficient, mechanical. “Got a new job lined up. No time to waste”. He gave Dean a hard look, that unyielding gaze Dean knew better than to question. “You knew we wouldn’t be here forever, son. It’s time to go”.

Dean swallowed hard, dread clawing at him as he glanced over at Sam, who was shoving his clothes into a bag, already resigned to the drill of their lives, even at fifteen. But this time, leaving didn’t feel like any of the others.

He’d thought he had more time with you. Thought maybe he’d found something real, something worth hanging onto, in the middle of all this chaos. He thought maybe you’d understand, maybe you’d wait. Or at least, that he could tell you the truth. That you were more than a distraction from a life that had always felt too heavy for him.

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to gather the courage to push back, to buy himself just a little more time. He cast a quick glance at his dad, trying to keep his tone casual, like it was no big deal.

“Can’t we at least wait until tomorrow? There’s… there’s something I need to take care of”, he mumbled, hoping that his dad might, for once, let him have this.

But John scoffed, barely pausing in his packing as he tossed another weapon into the duffel. “A thing to take care of?”. He looked up, his mouth twisting into a bitter, sarcastic grin. “Let me guess… that girl. The one who’s got you sneaking around like some lovesick little puppy”.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his heart sinking as he caught the mocking gleam in his father’s eyes. “It’s not like that”, he said, though even he could hear the weak protest in his voice.

“Sure it isn’t”. John’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he shook his head, chuckling darkly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to, Dean? I told you weeks ago to cut ends with her. You think this life has room for little Miss Perfect? Some snob who thinks she’s too good for all of this?”.

Dean clenched his fists, his pulse racing as he fought the urge to defend you, to say that you weren’t like that—that you weren’t some spoiled girl who thought herself better than their life. But he knew better than to argue. He’d heard this tone before, the edge that warned him that any pushback would only make things worse.

John went on, shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. “Can’t believe you’re even thinking about her right now. Thought I raised you better than that, son. No girl—especially not some high school princess—is worth dragging yourself through the mud for. What, you think you stand a chance of keeping her? That she’d stick around if she knew the real you? Give me a damn break”.

Dean’s face burned with anger and shame, his heart twisting at the casual cruelty in his father’s voice. He wanted to yell, to tell him that you weren’t just some fling, that you mattered. But every instinct he’d been raised with told him to keep his mouth shut, to hold his feelings tight, because showing them would only lead to disappointment, to the same disapproval he’d grown up under.

John’s gaze hardened, his expression turning cold as he looked Dean up and down, unimpressed. “Get your head out of the clouds, Dean. No piece of ass is worth it, and I’ll tell you right now—no girl’s worth going soft for. Not in this life. So pack up, and let’s go. You’re not risking everything just because you’re chasing after some girl who doesn’t belong here”.

Dean felt a sting in his chest, a hollow ache settling in as he fought to keep his expression steady, to hide just how much those words hurt. In that moment, he realized that arguing would only make things worse, that his dad would never understand. So he swallowed the hurt, burying it as he always did, and forced himself to keep his voice steady, distant.

“Yes, sir”, he muttered, voice barely more than a whisper, feeling the words settle like stones in his gut. He didn’t look up as he zipped his duffel bag shut, his throat tight as he wrestled with the urge to run out the door, to find you, to tell you goodbye.

But he stayed. He let his father’s words sink in, let them mold around his heart like armor. And when he finally climbed into the Impala, eyes fixed on the road ahead, he forced himself to believe what John had said—that you’d be better off without him, that whatever you’d shared was only a distraction from a life he’d never be free from.

As they pulled out of town, he forced himself not to look back, to focus on the road, on the only life he’d ever known. But the image of you, the sound of your laughter, the warmth you’d brought to his life lingered in his mind, haunting him like a ghost he’d never truly escape.

-End of the flashback-

Dean’s eyes flickered back up to you, and you could see the anger and disappointment simmering there, shadows of the memories that had clearly never left him. His father’s words, that hard, dismissive scorn, lingered in the depths of his gaze, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the pain he’d buried all those years ago.

“I wanted to say goodbye”, he mumbled, almost to himself, the words barely making it past his lips. There was a heaviness in his tone, the regret palpable, and for a brief moment, he looked like that nineteen-year-old kid again, held back by forces he’d been powerless to resist.

Without another word, he drained the rest of his whiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass before he set it down. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rose to his feet, pulling his jacket on, the same guarded, closed-off look returning to his face. You felt the ache in your chest deepen as he moved, like he was preparing to leave you behind all over again.

He took a long breath, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that seemed almost painful for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a war waging between the urge to stay and the instinct to leave—to protect you from the life he couldn’t escape. Even after all these years, there was something raw and vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if seeing you now hurt just as much as leaving you had.

You saw his eyes trace over your face, lingering for a moment too long, taking you in as if trying to memorize you all over again. The softness in his gaze twisted something inside you, a reminder of what you’d once shared, of the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.

“You know”, he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, “you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen”. He paused, catching himself, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “Well… woman, by now”.

You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words, the years of unspoken things between you. It was the truth, you realized—the same honesty he’d kept hidden all those years ago. But there was a sadness there too, an ache that told you he didn’t think he could ever give you what you deserved.

“Dean”, you whispered, stepping closer, searching his face. “You don’t have to leave again".

He clenched his jaw, glancing away for a second, wrestling with himself, his hands clenching in the pockets of his jacket. “I want to stay. Hell, I want nothing more than to stay“.

Without thinking, Dean reached out, his hand warm as it cupped your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. He held you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to let go of but equally afraid to keep holding onto. His gaze softened, his voice dropping to a whisper, rough and broken. “But I do have to leave, sweetheart”, he murmured, almost like he was convincing himself. “I always have to leave”.

The word slipped from his lips, “sweetheart”, and in an instant, you were sixteen all over again.

-Flashback-

The rain had come out of nowhere, heavy drops pelting down in sheets, turning the quiet evening into a storm as you and Dean huddled under the diner’s awning, laughing as you watched the parking lot become a sea of puddles. He was supposed to be walking you home after sharing a couple of milkshakes and a basket of fries, each of you pretending it wasn’t a date but knowing it was.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, and Dean glanced down the street, then back at you, running a hand through his damp hair as he chuckled. “Guess that puts a dent in my plans of playing gentleman and walking you home”.

You smiled, half-shivering as the wind picked up. “I’d say your plans were doomed from the start”.

He laughed, that easy, genuine laugh you’d already grown to love in the few days you’d known him. Then his gaze shifted toward the motel just down the road, a short, drenched run from where you stood. He hesitated, as if deciding whether to risk suggesting it, then shrugged. “We’re just five minutes from where I’m staying… probably closer than your place. Why don’t we wait it out there? Just until the rain lets up”.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm despite the cold, and with that unspoken agreement, you broke into a run together, both of you soaked within seconds as you sprinted down the empty street. By the time you stumbled inside his dingy motel room, breathless and laughing, you were dripping wet, water pooling around your feet as you shook out your arms and tried to wring out your hair.

“Looks like we didn’t exactly outrun the storm”, you teased, brushing a strand of soaked hair from your face as you looked around the cramped room, your nerves setting in as the reality of being alone with him settled over you.

Dean grinned, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. His own hair was plastered to his forehead, and water dripped from the collar of his T-shirt, but he looked at you with that familiar, slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Guess not. But you know, there are worse places to be”.

There was a pause, a stillness that settled between you, the laughter fading as you met his gaze, the dim light from the single lamp casting a soft glow over his face. You saw something shift in his expression, a quiet vulnerability that made your heart race as he took a hesitant step toward you.

Without thinking, you closed the distance, your breaths mingling as you both moved closer, the world outside the room slipping away. Dean’s hand lifted, his fingers tracing along your jawline, gentle but deliberate, like he was afraid of scaring you off. His thumb brushed over your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

“Is this okay?”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

You nodded, too lost in the moment to speak, and that was all he needed.

He closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, almost hesitant, like he was still holding back, afraid to take more than he was allowed. But as you melted into him, as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hand slipped to the small of your back, the kiss deepened, the world fading to nothing but the feel of him, the warmth of his touch.

His other hand tangled in your damp hair, pulling you closer as if he needed this as much as you did. The intensity of it surprised you, the way he kissed you like you were something he’d been searching for but hadn’t dared to hope he’d find. You felt every unspoken word, every promise he couldn’t make, in the way his hands held you, in the way his lips moved with yours.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, he looked at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before, a quiet reverence that made your heart ache. “You’re… something else, Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, a confession that felt like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

The rain outside was forgotten, the cold fading as you looked at him, feeling, in that moment, that he was the only person in the world.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, that same warmth flooding your chest even now, five years later. Standing here with him, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, the years between you seemed to vanish, leaving only that undeniable pull that had drawn you to him back then—the one that still left you breathless.

Dean’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand still cradling your face, his touch just as tender, just as careful as it had been that night. You felt the years of anger and hurt begin to unravel, slipping away in the quiet, unspoken apology in his gaze. Even now, after everything, he still had the power to make you feel like that sixteen-year-old girl, standing in the glow of his attention, melting under the weight of his presence.

Dean’s gaze held yours, his thumb tracing one last gentle line over your cheek, the faintest tremor in his touch. His voice, low and rough, barely broke through the silence as he murmured, “But this time… you get a goodbye”. His words hung in the air, laced with a finality that tugged painfully at your heart. His hand slipped away, falling slowly, as though he were reluctant to break the connection, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger on your skin even after it was gone.

Just then, you saw movement from the corner of your eye, and Sam stepped out from where he’d been standing a little way off, his presence cautious, like he was unsure if this was the right moment to interrupt. His gaze flicked between you and Dean, a mixture of concern and understanding in his eyes.

Dean glanced over at his brother, his jaw tightening briefly, then gave a short nod as if signaling that it was time. Sam shifted, visibly uncomfortable, but nodded back, clearly catching onto something unspoken between them.

You looked at Dean, your chest heavy, a thousand words hovering on the edge of your lips, none of them able to break the ache settling inside you. He was here now, right in front of you, and yet it felt like he was already gone again, slipping through your fingers like he always had.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely more than a whisper, not even sure what you wanted to say—only that the thought of him leaving, of watching him disappear one more time, felt unbearable.

Dean’s gaze lingered on you, his expression a mix of longing and regret. He gave you that small, sad smile again, the one that barely reached his eyes but held a world of unspoken words. "Take care, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice rough, each syllable feeling like a farewell he wasn’t quite ready to give. He brushed his fingers lightly over your arm, the touch so soft it sent goosebumps skittering across your skin, a reminder of the warmth he’d once brought into your life, now bittersweet and fading too quickly.

He turned to leave, his back already to you, and something inside you snapped—an urge, a need to hold onto this moment, to keep him here just a second longer. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand catching his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back, surprise flickering in his eyes as he looked down at you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you.

Rising onto your toes, you slid your hand up to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His breath catching as you pulled him down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft yet fierce, filled with the years of longing and questions you’d never had the chance to voice. He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, and then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he returned the kiss with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, as his lips moved with yours, slow and purposeful, as if trying to make up for all the lost time in this one stolen moment. The world around you faded, the sounds of the bar, the ticking clock, all slipping away as you sank into him, feeling the strength of his arms, the familiarity of his touch. You felt his heart beating against yours, strong and steady, grounding you in a way only he ever had.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, breath mingling in the small space between you. His gaze was softened, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen, as though he was as taken by surprise as you were by the depth of what had just passed between you.

“That’s a proper goodbye”, you whispered, a faint blush coloring your cheeks despite yourself, but you held his gaze, not wanting to break the connection.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a glint of that familiar warmth sparking in his eyes. You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing against the worn card you always kept there—a small, simple card from your bookstore, printed with your name and number. You handed it to him, your hand lingering as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours in a touch that felt both comforting and electric.

“Call me”, you said softly, barely above a whisper, your voice carrying a warmth and a hope you hadn’t let yourself feel in years. “When you’re around again… I’ll pay you back with a milkshake”.

He looked down at the card in his hand, tracing his thumb over the print before glancing back at you, a mixture of amusement and something deeper in his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held your gaze, as if committing this moment, this feeling, to memory.

Finally, he nodded, tucking the card carefully into his pocket. “I’ll hold you to that”, he said, his voice low, a promise wrapped in that quiet tone.

With one last lingering look, he turned, his hand trailing down your arm until his fingers slipped away. And as he left, you felt a strange sense of peace settle in your chest, a hope that maybe this time, things wouldn’t end with silence and an empty space where he’d been. The ache was still there, but it was softened by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Not gonna lie.. I think this is my favorite so far

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573

[niniwritesxo]

bailed on me

- this is the first fiction i’ve ever written, english is not my first language so please keep that in mind when reading this story :)

no warnings!!

description:

just some angst between you and jj 🙏

——————————————————————————

The sun had barely set over the Outer Banks, the sky a dull red and gold, but to you, the world felt dark. You sat on the back porch of the chateau, your legs drawn up to your chest as you stared out at the water, the familiar view of the island doing nothing to calm you.

It had started with something small. Or at least, that’s how it had seemed at first. A missed text here, a lie there, a canceled plan when you needed him most. JJ had always been impulsive, always a little reckless, but lately, it felt like he was slipping away in ways that couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside you, a message from JJ.

“Can we talk?”

You sighed, your fingers curling into fists. You already knew what this conversation would be. It was the same thing they always did—argue, fight, and then act like nothing ever happened. Only this time, something in you had shifted. You were tired of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.

A moment later, You heard his footsteps on the gravel. The sound of his boots crunching underfoot was enough to make your stomach tighten. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t have to. JJ was standing behind you, watching you, waiting for you to speak first.

"Do you even realize how much you're pulling away from me?" you asked, your voice steady but laced with the hurt you were trying not to show.

JJ hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "What do you mean?"

You stood up abruptly, turning to face him. "You’ve been ignoring me, JJ. And it’s not just that. It’s the lies. The stupid little things that add up until I don’t even know who you are anymore."

JJ’s face fell, guilt flashing across his features, but he didn’t say anything right away. You pressed on, your anger rising as you tried to put everything you had been feeling into words.

"When you said you were going to help me with the party last weekend… and then you bailed to hang out with John B instead? Do you think I didn't notice that? And when I needed you after my dad called—after all that shit with him—and you just disappeared?" You let out a bitter laugh. "You’re always there for everyone else, JJ, but not for me. And I don’t get it. I don’t get why."

JJ’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But instead, he took a deep breath and looked down, avoiding her gaze.

"Y/N, you don’t get it," he muttered. "I’m trying. I’m trying so damn hard, but I—I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to be what you need me to be."

"That’s just it!" You snapped. "I never asked you to be something you’re not. I just… I just wanted you to show up. To be there, for once. You keep running away every time things get hard, and I’m so tired of it."

JJ’s heart pounded in his chest, and the words felt like knives in his stomach. He had never meant to hurt you. But he had. He knew he had. And he hated himself for it.

"You think I want to pull away from you? That I want to push you out of my life? You don’t know how hard it is for me to be around you sometimes." He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. "I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of messing things up. Of getting too close and losing it all. I don’t know how to be perfect for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care."

Your eyes softened slightly, but the hurt was still there. "I never needed you to be perfect. I just needed you to stay. Just once, to not pull away when things got tough."

There was a long silence between them, and JJ felt like his chest was caving in. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, but he was scared that doing so would only make everything worse. He had always been afraid of losing you, but it felt like the damage was already done.

"Why do you push me away like this?" you whispered, your voice cracking. "I can’t keep doing this with you, JJ. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when I know you’re just… waiting for the next thing to go wrong. Waiting for it to fall apart."

JJ closed his eyes, the words you spoke echoing in his head like a warning. He hated that you were right. He had been waiting for it to fall apart—because every time something good came into his life, he expected it to slip through his fingers. His father had been that way, his whole life had been that way. But you didn’t deserve to be caught in that cycle.

"Y/N, I’m sorry," he said, the words coming out strained. "I just don’t know how to be what you want me to be. I don’t know how to make it right, but I swear I’m trying."

Your heart twisted at the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. Not this time. Not after everything.

"You can’t keep trying forever, JJ. Sometimes, trying isn’t enough. I need you to show up. To show me that you care. But right now, I just don’t think you do."

You turned away then, the finality in your steps making his stomach drop. You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. You didn’t need to. The truth was in the silence.

JJ stood there, the weight of everything pressing down on him, and for the first time in a long time, he wondered if he’d ever be able to fix this. To fix them.

[vampire-matcha]

Angst for no reason incoming (cw: cheating)

Johnny had been off ever since you picked him up from the airport last night. It wasn't unusual for him to be distant sometimes when he first got home. It was a difficult adjustment going from live fire back to civilian life, and sometimes he needed time to get back into the swing of things. But this time was different. He couldn't look you in the eyes. Instead of falling exhausted into your arms, he shied away from your touch. His body was stiff when you hugged him. He didn't rest his hand on your thigh the whole ride home. He didn't even kiss you.

You assumed he had seen or done something worse than usual. You assumed the deaths had been more brutal, more numerous. Maybe he had lost someone close to him this time. It's not like he could even tell you, all his operations were black. Strictly confidential. You were just a civilian.

You did your best to comfort him. You made him a hot meal, drew him a bath, offered to massage his sore muscles; but he picked at his plate until it was cold, locked the bathroom door, and slept with his back to you all night.

Something in your gut told you it was wrong. You ignored the pit in your stomach that warned you. You boxed his dinner up for him to eat when he was feeling better. You pulled the blankets tighter around you to drive out the cold you felt without him beside you as you slept. You pretended to be asleep when he silently rolled out of bed and crept out of the bedroom. You pretended not to hear his low voice talking on the phone in the living room. You pretended not to hear him cry.

He avoided you the next day, too. Answering in one or two words, barely eating, leaving the room as soon as you walked in. He barely spoke to you until that evening.

He called you into the living room, where you found him sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, eyes unfocused staring out at the wall. His wedding band glowed in the lamplight. You sat beside him. Your hands reached to comfort him, but landed instead in your lap when you noticed how he tensed when you reached for him.

"I need to tell you something," he said, his voice low and monotone, his words careful and measured. He wouldn't look at you. His blue eyes were cold and stony, his jaw hard and clenched.

Oh no.

"What is it?" You asked, hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Your eyes scanned him for any sign of bruising, but his skin was clear.

He shook his head, a slow, even movement. His hands shook as he dropped his forehead onto them and closed his eyes tight. The faintest shine of wetness gathered at his lashes. He took a deep, trembling breath.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the sound leaving him as if his soul were rushing out through his mouth.

God, please, no.

"John..." you uttered. Your stomach twisted. You heard the thump-thump-thimping of your pulse in your ears. "What is it?" You repeated.

Please, not this. Anything but this.

"When I was away..." No... "Bonnie, I-" Please, God, No- "I had sex with someone else."

The only sound in the room was the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. His words echoed in your head as you processed his confession. Everything clicked into place as the seconds passed into minutes. His behavior since coming home wasn't that of trauma. It was guilt. He couldn't look you in the eye, couldn't even bare to touch you, because he couldn't carry the weight of his shame.

Your body and mind operated separately. You tried to sort your thoughts out, but your heart was running away from you. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with your wedding ring. Your throat felt as if you had swallowed a stone whole. Your face was wet with tears you hadn't even felt fall.

"Who?" You asked. Your voice sounded more like nails clawing at a closed door. Johnny gasped as he strangled down his own tears.

"My lieutenant," he confessed, his voice saturated with guilt. The watery words erupted from his chest like a violent geyser, as if he couldn't get them out fast enough; as if saying them burned his tongue, his throat, his stomach.

You sobbed at the revelation. You knew him. You'd shaken his hand. You'd thanked him for looking after your Johnny. Your Johnny! Oh, you were going to be sick.

Your legs carried you away from him, away from your husband and the future you two had together. They carried you into your shared bedroom, your marital bed now sullied by infidelity. Your hands locked the door behind you. You collapsed onto the floor. His arms didn't catch you. They didn't hold you close, they didn't comfort you. There was no comfort to be found on the cold tile of the bathroom you'd crawled into. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet and cried with reckless abandon.

You screamed and wailed like a widow. You mourned your marriage, your love, the future you could never have now. Your trust was broken. How could you ever repair what you had?

---

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

I honestly don't know where this cane from. I'm sorry guys. Maybe I'll continue this idk

[imasoftieforbarb]

i love the little fic u made of my request and you asked if the readers would like a part 2 AND IM SORRY IF IM BEING TO DELUSIONAL BUT

IF YOU HAVE TIME AND WANT TO OFC COULD U DO THE PART 2, I LOVE YOUR WORK SM I MEAN IT 😭⁉️

HERE COMES PART 2‼️

We’re gonna get into the movie stuff now

John Dory comes to check out Mount Rageous

As he makes his way through the ventilation he hears crying- but it doesn’t sound like Floyd so he moves on (a bit guiltily)

Once he finds Floyd (and lands face first on the dresser)

John Dory groaned as he pulled himself off the floor in a hurry “Yo! Floyd!”

Floyd looked up from his lap as his eyes widened “John dory? I cant believe it!” Floyd pressed his hands against the wall of his prison “I never thought I’d see any of my brothers again”

John Dory smiled before pressing his hand up to the glass in confidence

“Don’t worry bro I’m gonna get you out of here”

“No! You need to get out of here!” Floyd said urgently “you don’t understand- Velvet and Veneer are giant, pop obsessed succubi with NO talent and they’ve been stealing mine and Y/n’s- it’s only a matter of time now until they come back for more!”

John Dory thought to himself “Y/n? Like our old manager and childhood best friend Y/n? But- why did they take her?”

Floyd sighed to himself, misplaced guilt eating at him a bit “when you guys left, she followed me and after a bit we ended up confessing-“

“I KNEW YOU HAD FEELINGS FOR HER-“

“Shhhhhhh!” Floyd shushed his brother, though he couldn’t deny the smile on his face- he had missed this

“So she’s here?” John Dory said looking around, “I don’t see her anywhere!”

“She got taken by Velvet- as like a personal back up! I don’t know where she is- but if shes having her talent drained she won’t last as long, she isn’t a trained singer JD! I’m worried”

“Don’t worry bro- I’ll get both of you out-!”

JD tried many tricks to try and crack the prison his brother was in but to no luck

“It’s made out of diamond- and there’s only one thing that’s strong enough to shatter diamond” Floyd hoped his brother got the clue-

“A diamond shattering diamond hammer! Where do we get one of those?”

It went way over his head

“No, the only thing strong enough to shatter diamond is the perfect family harmony” Floyd said giving his brother a look of humour

“Of course! The prefect family harmony!”

Floyd nodded looking at his brother with tired but hopeful eyes until-

“Our voices sound like GARBAGE! We need more TROLL!”

“Run John Dory- save yourself” Floyd urged, not wanting to get his brother captured

John Dory nodded, grappling back to the vent and shouting that he’d be back with the rest of the family

During the rescue mission you’re nowhere to be found

Floyd’s theory is correct and you are drained far to quickly-

You turn into a crystal troll just before the rage dome show

Velvet decides to put you in her pocket like a little good luck charm

The perfect family harmony works and shatters the diamond perfectly

Floyd thinking of you as he sings the last line

“Just let me take you to a better place!”

When he wakes up from his crystal form and has a moment with his brothers he looks around and doesn’t see you anywhere

“John Dory, where’s Y/n?”

Everybody starts looking around not being able to see you

Not even Crimp knows where you are

“Velvet! Where’s the other troll? The one you took as a backup?” Veneer said, after confessing that they were frauds

“Oh her? She drained far to fast so I gave her another use” velvet stated- pulling you out of her pocket “she’s my little good luck charm- though she didn’t work so she’s useless to me now”

Floyd gasped, tears finally spilling over as he takes in your completely crystallised form in shock

“No… Nononono”

Veneer snatches you off velvet and hands you to the group of trolls on the floor with remorse

“Y/n? Come on- this cant be happening!”

Floyd brings you into a hug- sobbing as he realises there’s no hope for you

You, though crystallised, can hear everything around you

You try to open your eyes but they’re so heavy

“You can’t do this to me- not after everything we’ve been through together, it’s my fault” Floyd stated through his tears “I just want you back.”

Everyone looks down in sadness, shedding their own tears as they mourn with Floyd

Then

The darkness starts to fade from your vision as you blink a few times

You raise your hand to his face, startling him

“You’re so silly”

you say weakly, watching his eyes tear up again- this time from happiness and disbelief

“You never lost me in the first place”

He brings you into a kiss- putting all of his emotions into it

The crowd cheers as they realise you’re alive and as velvet and veneer are taken away in cuffs

[castiwls]

Love your blog btw:)

I saw you do platonic and was wondering if you could do one with the boys sister (if possible could she be older then sam but younger then dean) where there all dealing with the fallout of johns death

tysm!

by your side - d.w & s.w

Pairing; Sam & Dean x sister!reader (platonic)

Synposis; Johns death hit all of his children hard

Warnings; angst

Notes; I feel i kinda made John sound like a good dad in this lmao but how you wanna take it is up to you

Masterlist

The thought of your dad dying had always lingered over your head. Every time he missed a check in a voice in the back of your head screamed that it had finally happened. That John Winchester had made a fatal mistake and been killed by whatever he’d been hunting.

Dean had always assured you that it could never happen. But no matter what your older brother said the thought always lingered. Though in all the scenarios you’d imagined, you’d never imagined it happening like this. You’d never thought he would make a deal with a demon.

It had been a few days since Dean had been discharged and the three of you had decided to go up to Bobbys. None of you had really spoken about what had happened in the hospital. Dean had spent his time working on the Impala and you had locked yourself away in one of the guest's rooms.

You felt as if you were in a state of shock. You and your dad hadn’t always seen eye to eye but as you lay staring at the ceiling you couldn’t help but replay every memory of him you had. As you lay there you could feel tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

Your dad was dead and you never even got to say goodbye. John Winchester was by no means a perfect man, but he was your father and you loved him all the same.

A knock on your door had you quickly wiping your eyes before sitting up. “Co-come in.” 

The door squeeked as it opened and Sam’s head appeared. His eyes looked red as if he’d also been crying and you frowned. “Sam? What’s wrong?” You asked your younger brother. 

He didn't say anything as he shuffled into your room before lying down beside you. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “The last thing we did was argue y/n. He probably died thinking that I hated him or something” He sniffled slightly looking at you with teary eyes. Guilt had been eating Sam alive for the past few days. He’d never gotten to properly apologise and now he would never have the chance. 

You sighed before beginning to run a hand through his hair. “Sam. He knows you didn’t hate him. Trust me.” You smiled softly at him. “I know he never said it but deep down he was so proud of you.”

Sam hummed softly and leaned further into your chest.

“She’s telling the truth, Sammy.” Another voice chimed in. You felt the bed dip as Dean sat behind you. Sam kept quiet but you felt him relax slightly at Deans's words. 

Your brothers were all you had now. You felt Dean lie down beside you and you shifted slightly so you could see him. He rubbed a hand up your arm as he looked at your younger brother. 

After a while, Sam’s breathing evened out and you felt his hold loosen slightly as sleep took over.

“Are you ok? Seriously.” You whispered turning your head to look at Dean. The green-eyed man didn’t say anything for a moment and he just continued to rub your arm. “I…I don’t know.” He finally admitted. “Y/n what he said to me about-” He gestured to Sam. “what did he mean.” Dean’s tone was serious as he spoke. What John had told him was clearly causing more bother than you first realised. 

“And he only made that deal for me. I don’t understand why he would throw it all away when he was so close.” He frowned looking down at you.

“Maybe because your his son and he cared more about you than that damn thing that killed Mom.” Dean raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Maybe you were right.

He let out a sigh before shaking his head. “I don’t wanna have this conversation right now okay.” He wrapped his arm around you before settling down. 

“It’s late. We can talk in the morning.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Go to sleep.” 

Dean closing off was what you expected but at least you’d planted the seed. He shouldn't feel guilty for what your dad did. You nodded and spared Sam a glance.

The youngest Winchester was still sleeping calmly against your chest and you smiled softly brushing a hand through his hair. You felt Dean’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly. You knew the movement was his way of telling you to sleep and stop worrying over Sam. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you lay back on the pillows, placing your head on Deans's shoulder. “Night.”

“Night sweetheart.”

None of you were okay but you had each other and as you lay there for the first time in days you felt some semblance of peace.

[animalistic0]

Just One More Moment (Part 2)

Part 1: Here Part 2.5: Here

Plot: As the hunt for the crown narrows down, one more moment is all that is needed. The Pogues and Rafe end up separated and fighting for their lives once again, except this is all or nothing. Life or Death.

*Season Four spoilers!*

OC Maybank twin + platonic Pogues x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, Death, mentions of murder and murdering, violence, homicidal tendencies, blood, angst, a bit of fluff, guilt, anger, allusions to abuse, mention of kidnapping.

Word Count: 4.8k+

Note: This is getting split into two parts itself before the heavy angst is posted because I keep getting carried away. I hope you enjoy!

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

Something in JC told her everything was going to change. A voice that screamed louder and louder the closer they got to Agapenta. However, she pushed it down and ignored it. Her family was safe and alive, albeit a little run down but still stronger than ever. There had been times when that little voice was wrong, and she refused to allow herself to fall into the darkness that was slowly rising within her. She had watched JJ dance with death before, hell she had danced with death before. There was just something about his recent death dances that raised warning bells, make her skin crawl, and made her panic. She was going to keep him safe, protect him above all costs, that JC vowed.

JC sat next to JJ in the back of jeep, Kiara sitting on her brother’s lap. She was happen for them. She loved their love and was their number one supporter. Kiara brought a type of peace to JJ that he had never had, a peace that he needed and deserved. Not to mention the love she brought, the love JC knew her brother was worthy of even if he struggled to come to that conclusion himself. JC smiled as she watched her family, these were the individuals that mattered the most. Pogues for life and her family. Wherever they went, it was them that was Poguelandia, it was not a place but them as a whole.

As John B pulled the jeep to a stop in front of a well, JC hoped out of the back stretching her legs. She walked over to JJ as she saw him eyeing something and as she saw the bag she felt her stomach drop. It was Groff’s bag. She could feel the anger and hatred bubbling free from the cage she had stuffed it down into, her eyes darkening as she looked around before her ears registered a voice. Her lips pulled back in a snarl as she marched over to the well, ignoring how the Pogues backed up after they heard JJ say it was Groff. As JC peered down the dry well she felt her hands clench into fists. With no hesitation or remorse she wanted to leave him down there with nothing. Even if she knew he would die, it was almost poetic. He had killed their mother and said she drowned, and then attempted to kill her brother in the water, it only made sense that he would die of dehydration and of heat.

As she felt a hand land on her shoulder she met the eyes of her twin, and she could see the hesitation in him. Taking a breath she intertwined their hands, squeezing his hand as an anchor for the both of them. She nodded her head her eyes softening as she looked at her twin, “Whatever you chose baby brother I got you. I’m not going no where.” JC felt like this was his decision, because he had spent more time with the older male and had quickly bonded with Groff in a short time. While JC wanted to kill him or let him die, she knew it was her brother’s choice. JC was not angry when JJ threw down water to the man, she knew he wouldn’t be able to live if he had proved to be exactly like the man.

Their whole lives the twins fought to prove that they were nothing like Luke and now it seemed they needed to prove they were nothing like Groff either. Two fathers, both shitty, and a constant fight to prove to others and themselves that blood or not they weren’t like their fathers. JC was proud of JJ, because he was better than her and would always be better. However, JJ would tell anyone that JC was the better twin. That she was better in every way, and he knew she wasn’t above becoming a villain to others for her family. There was something about the loyalty she had that he wished he had. Not to mention how she always seemed to have a sixth sense about people and situations. JJ thought she was the best, that JC deserved everything and nothing less. That when he looked at her and she held his hand, he couldn’t give Groff the rope.

He couldn’t give Groff the rope not because the older man hurt him, but because Groff hurt both his girls. He knocked Kiara out and locked her up in the ice bucket. Something JJ wish he had known earlier so he could have beat the shit out of Groff. Then when JJ had seen his twins face after they pulled him from the ocean it broke his heart. He had never seen her as distraught as he had in that moment. How appalling she looked. When JJ and Kiara got the bends, JC had been so calm and put together. His sister had soothed and coddled him like a baby the whole way to the hospital, never once crying or showing distress. He had even been told by John B that when he had gotten hit by the machete and was unconscious that JC never lost her cool then either. In fact JJ had always seen JC as unbreakable and tough, having rarely seen his twin ever break down. She was a rock, his rock and the rock of the Pogues. When John B had presumably died, she had cried but held him as he broke down. When nights with Luke were terrible and the twins had to flee for their own safety JC would shed a few tears but check up on him. His sister was the epitome of strength and JJ didn’t like seeing her so hurt. Groff did that and JJ couldn’t let that slide.

JC watched in awe of her brother as he turned his back to the well after throwing down the jug of water to Groff. Her kind and amazing brother, she was proud of him. Always. However, as she heard Groff throw threats towards them, towards JJ she snapped. “Say another word Groff and I’ll kill you right fucking now.” The murder in her tone was promising and she was glad when the evil man shut up. Turning on her heel she walked over to JJ who already had his hand held out. The other Pogues were staring at her but the silence was broken by Pope. “Glad he’s shut up. Was ready to catch another felony for you Maybank’s.” Laughs filled the desert area as JC stepped forward letting go of her twins hand to pull Pope into a tight hug. “Nah, I would have acted first.” JC pulled away and smiled at Cleo before pulling the girl into her hug with Pope. Hugging Cleo and Pope as tight as she could. Before the rest of the group joined in and it was the best but hottest group hug ever.

“Alright, you crazy killers let’s go get our crown!” A bunch of whoops left the groups mouths at John B’s words, and like obedient children they found themselves back in the jeep driving towards Agapenta. Away from the well, and probably one of the most evil individuals they have ever met, Groff. No remorse or hesitation within any of them as they did so. For one doesn’t hurt a Pogue and get away with it, not their family.

JC couldn’t help the gasp of awe as she saw the city beyond the cliff. It was massive and without the map she didn’t know how they’d find the crown. However, as she looked at her friends she knew they would. After everything they’ve been through and done? It would be unlikely for them to not find the treasure, they had a great track record of finding treasure. Keeping the said treasure was another story though. Her eyes met JJ’s and the twins fist bumped each other as they smiled like maniacs. “Let’s get our crown, Pogues for Life!” Cheers left the friends as they repeated their mantra before John B continued driving.

JC hoped out of the back of the vehicle once John B pulled to a stop and turned it off. Announcing that they would do the rest by foot. The group quickly walked along the bushes before JC jumped at the sound of a gunshot. Her eyes narrowed through the bush as she stood next to Sarah. Rafe Cameron stood with the map and the key to read it, in front of the Lupine Corsairs guns pointed at him. Part of JC wanted to leave Rafe, but another part knew they needed him, that she needed to save him. Not just because of the map he held, it was apart of it but because he had saved her life and kept her safe. A debt and loyalty she owed to him. JC turned and looked at Sarah and knew her friend felt just as conflicted, however at the end of the day that was her brother, her blood.

JC slowly connected their hands, smiling supportive at her friend knowing Sarah needed it. Sarah gave a faint smile back and clutched JC’s hand needing the comfort of the other girl. “They’re gonna kill him.” JC turned her head to stare at Cleo with an are you serious look, only to snap her head and glare at Pope as he spoke; “Do we care?” At the same time JJ and JC spoke; “Yeah, that's a good question, Pope.” and “Yes, of course we care Pope.” The twins glared at each other as if silently battling and communicating with each other.

JC rolled her eyes and looked back at Sarah, moving her hands to gently rub her shoulders trying to further soothe the growing distraught girl. Ignoring Cleo and the fact she stated about them taking the scroll if they did kill Rafe. JC leaned over and whispered softly to Sarah, “It’s up to you. Say the word or give the signal and we’ll help him. I’ll save him.” JC smiled as Sarah faced her and nodded before turning back and staring at Rafe as she bit her lip in thought.

“There are seven of them. They all have rifles.” JC rolled her eyes at John B’s obvious analysis of the situation. Biting her tongue to keep herself from saying anything sarcastic. “I know. That's why we're gonna need to think outside the box.” JC watched as JJ pulled the gun from behind him and checked it for bullets. She left Sarah side and moved over to JJ’s other side, her eyes narrowing as she watched him. “What are you doing?” JC agreed with John B’s question, because she didn’t want to believe her little brother would be that reckless but then again the Maybank’s were quite known for being ridiculously stupidly reckless. Placing her hand on her brother’s shoulder she wasn’t going to let him do it alone, and together the twins spoke simultaneously; “Diversion.” They glanced at each other, knowingly smirking as they thought of the chaos they could cause together.

“Dudes, you can't be serious. This isn't Call of Duty.” JC rolled her eyes as she pulled a knife she had swiped from her boot, holding it up in triumph. “No it’s not, but our lives have never been normal Pope.” JJ nodded along with his twin before cocking the gun and placing it back in its position behind his back. “We got four rounds, seven of them.” JC rolled her eyes as the others got involved and JJ began trying to explain the plan. “Look four rounds, and a knife. I’d say our odds our pretty good!” JC laughed as JJ nodded towards her before they caught Sarah grabbing the gun and aiming towards the Corsairs. JC held her hands out towards Sarah before she realized what her friend was doing. JC bit her lip as she fought a smile, her eyes watching Sarah closely as she silently cheered her on.

“That’s my brother.” As Sarah spoke and shot the gun, expertly hitting the gas tank and blowing the vehicle up, JC couldn’t help but quietly cheer rushing forward and placing both hands on Sarah’s shoulder. “Oh my god! Way to go Sharpshooter!” The excitement was short lived as they all had to run for their lives. The Corsairs shooting at Rafe and they all ran. JC laughed at Pope as he spoke, “Let’s alert them to our location. That’s a great idea.” Catching up to him she gently punched his shoulder, a wide grin on her face as adrenaline and excitement pumped through her. “Live a little Pope. Being shot at or running for our lives is old news.”

JC laughed louder as she heard Pope curse, running to move next to her twin and as JJ fell she immediately stopped. Wrapping her arms around his forearm and pulling him up, silently communicating with him before they both started running again. JC kept a hand on JJ as they ran, and once he secured his gun again he held her hand, squeezing it tight. The twins found moments like this were where they felt most alive and most aware of shit. Both of them knew it was because of how they were raised and the chaos they grew to love in a deranged and dangerous way. However, if they had each other then they’d be okay.

JC didn’t realize how far they fell behind or how JJ was holding his gun until Pope was yelling for them to hurry up. As they crossed the threshold JJ, Pope, and herself threw themselves against the door as they moved the plank to lock it. Being aware to try and doge the bullets being fired at them. Her eyes connecting with Rafe’s and she wanted to glare at him, to scream at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do either. Especially with how disheveled and anxious he looked.

Just as quick as they had stopped they were off running once again, pausing as they ran into some farm area with a bunch of sheep. Pope, Kiara, and John B immediately working to barricade the door. JC looked around, her eyes immediately trying to find and exit or even perhaps any weapons they could utilize. JJ grabbed her hand pulling her as he ran deeper into the shelter of a maze. JC following without hesitation. She slowed to a stop as JJ beckoned the others before he held his side and began groaning. She held his side as he told the others to keep going, her eyes wide with worry for her little brother. Before she met the eyes of Cleo, and she knew her best friend was gonna do something. “Give me the gun!”

JJ immediately questioned it, but JC knew why. She could tell Cleo was protecting them, was fighting for them. Was giving the twins a break and forcing themselves to take a break from always risking themselves. Except JC didn’t like it, she didn’t like the idea of anything happening to her friends and she could tell JJ didn’t either. JC felt like she was dissociating she could hear JJ arguing about not wanting to give it up, could hear Cleo telling the others to go, could hear Cleo telling JJ he was injured and then like clarity Pope pulled JJ and her close. His words reaching through the fog like a lighthouse. “We got it. We’ll hold them off. Let me protect you both for once.”

JC felt her lip wobbled as she stared at her best friends. She didn’t want to lose them, didn’t want to leave them but this wasn’t the time to argue. Quickly she pulled Cleo into a bone crushing hug, ordering her to be careful or so help her. Before she pulled Pope into a desperate and tight hug, telling him the same thing before she let JJ pull her away. Pope’s words ringing in her ears, “Don’t do anything stupid.” Together the twins took one last glance at Pope, the look holding everything they wanted to tell each other before they went separate ways.

JC paused as she caught up with the others, her eyes narrowing as she saw Rafe holding a knife to John B. Her own hand itching towards the knife she had shoved back in her boot, sometime ago. She shared a glance with JJ and then Sarah, holding her hands up as she took a step forward. Her voice soothing and calm as she spoke, “Rafe, it’s okay.” She watched as he glanced at her before Sarah spoke and then the knife was held to her throat. Immediately JC was next to Sarah like a protective dog, her eyebrows raised as she watched him, waiting and almost daring him to make a move. Only for him to keep speaking and turn back to John B. JC tilted her head as she studied Rafe, and she could tell he was on edge, from what she didn’t know because almost dying wasn’t new to any of them. But as Sarah spoke saying she saved his life and Rafe faced her again, JC understood. Her face softening as he spoke, “You did it so you could steal it from me. There was something in it for you. All right? Not to actually help me. I know that.”

JC took a breath and stepped forward, feeling all eyes on her and Rafe facing her with the knife. “We don’t want to steal it Rafe, was there something in it for us absolutely. However, when Sarah saved you her main thought was her brother. We agreed days ago when we left home that we’d work together, an even cut for everyone. For you.” JC offered him a weak but kind smile, as John B and Sarah spoke at the same time. “Rafe, we don’t have time.” and “We can read that. You can’t.” JC cringed as Rafe turned back to Sarah, and spoke angrily. “Why would I help you? Huh? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you. Do you understand? Dad trusted you. You remember what happened to him?! Do you remember?!”

JC watched helplessly, her eyes finding JJ as Rafe raised his voice. She knew, they both knew, where their minds had gone to for a second. JC bit her lip as she turned back to watch Rafe her eyes staying on the knife as she kept herself close to Sarah. “Dad died saving my life. And you’re so eager to blame me for everything, you won’t even listen to what happened. Singh’s men had me at gunpoint. I was gonna die. Dad took those bullets for me. And if he was still around, he’d want us to work together. I know you know that.” JC felt tears well in her eyes as she flashed back to that day, the deep terror she held that they were all gonna die. That she was going to lose her family. Then Ward an unlikely hero who saved them. JC looked back and forth between Rafe and Sarah like a tennis match, watching as tears filled both their eyes and she had hope that maybe one day they could have a good relationship. A true brother sister relationship, like they both deserved.

“No, you’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will.” Rafe’s teary and broken sounding words broke Juniper’s heart. He looked so hurt and betrayed she wanted to pull him into a hug and never let him go. This was the Rafe she had met, had grown to known during their kidnapping. A soft, vulnerable, hurt individual who just wanted someone who was loyal and loved him. It was a constant battle because of his past actions, and then this switched he’d flip and actually be a person. She hoped this was his redemption, this was his will to change and be better, that he could build something new with Sarah and even the Pogues.

“No, no, because I’m all you’ve got. And you’re the only family I have left.” JC moved herself over to JJ and held his hand. Her eyes staring up at him as John B spoke defending Sarah, “She’s telling the truth.” JC watched with bated breath as Rafe nodded before repeating how he’d get his cut before holding out the map. She smiled as Sarah hugged him, as she hugged her own brother both of them smiling at each other before the faint sound of angry voices reached them. “Hey, this is great and all, but we seriously gotta go.” JC stepped away from JJ as they both peered down the hallway. The twins sharing a look as Kiara told them to go.

“Go with them, June. I’ll be fine.” JC shook her head as she stared at JJ. She didn’t want to leave him that was the last thing she wanted to do. But as he pushed her to follow them she relented, pulling him into a tight hug as she kissed his cheek. “Stay safe Bug, please. I’ll see you shortly.” One last hug, and JC turned and ran after Rafe, Sarah, and John B. Leaving behind another friend and her twin. She hated that they were all separated now, but she trusted in them, in that they would see each other again.

JC stopped herself short of running into the back of Rafe. Both of them staring at each other for a moment before trailing after John B and Sarah. Rafe held his hand out, helping JC up the steeper steps they were climbing up and it made her heart flutter every time. Every time John B turned and helped Sarah, Rafe would turn and help her. She didn’t know if he was competing or if he noticed that John B helped Sarah up steeper areas and in returned helped her up steeper areas. JC let out an exaggerated breath as they reached the top. Rafe stoping next to JB and JC next to Sarah. The two girls glancing at each other and smiling. Before Sarah spun confused and lost, “What now?” JC shrugged as she looked around before she glanced at the two males and watched as Rafe lifted his hand gently hitting the map against John B’s chest. “I can’t read this shit. Go for it.” JC smiled as she watched him, before it grew wider as he took the lens off from around his neck and held it out. “Here. You need this. Go.”

JC walked over to Rafe, she wasn’t needed to figure out the map. She knew JB and Sarah would get it done. Hesitantly JC laid her hand on Rafe’s shoulder, a warm smile on her lips as he turned to face her, and as she spoke it was soft and filled with gratitude. “You did good Rafe. Thank you.” She watched as he looked at her hand before trailing down her arm, and then he met her eyes. A rare and soft smiling forming on his lips as he looked at her. Sarah and John B discussing the map in the distance. “I didn’t. I didn’t mean it. I trust you, JC.” Furrowing her brows she looked up at the taller male, confused on why he trusted her above all people. Almost like he could see the questions in her mind he gave a small laugh, grabbing her hand from his shoulder and holding it in both of his. “I hated and despised you with everything, but then Singh happened and you were the only normal and only one I could trust. Then shit with my dad, and you were still the only normal in my life. You aren’t afraid to call my bullshit, to say what you think, to protect those you care for JC. Everything, I’ve told you and confined in you has stayed with you. I trust you.”

JC bit her lip as she stared up at Rafe, wishing for a moment that this wasn’t a treasure hunt, that their lives weren’t in peril once again. Because selfishly she wanted just a moment more in this bubble, with Rafe’s sweet words, his finger rubbing circles on her hand, his eyes soft and caring as they stared into her soul and beyond. Letting her lip go, she took a breath before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. Pulling back she brought her other hand over and squeezed his hands. “I’ll admit I hated you Rafe, and a part of me still hates your actions. However, I would never have survived Singh if not for you and I’m forever grateful and thankful for that. I can’t explain it, but that bonded us together Rafe. I trust you, but I need you to be kinder to my friends, my family.” JC giggled as Rafe nodded his head quickly before promising he would, that he would work on it, that he would be better.

And then their bubble was interrupted. JC looked over as John B was calling for them, her eyes widening as she moved over to where he stood with the map in the air. “What the fuck?” It was the best thing she could think to say, as a shadow of a shape appeared on the map. “What the hell is that?” JC shrugged as she turned around her eyes widening as she saw the same outline on the map right behind them, except it was real and a stone statue. “See what I’m seeing?” JC knew JB had also connected it and as Rafe turned around and saw the statue they both spoke simultaneously and the same words “Holy Shit.”

They did it! They found the crown. Of course they would, JC had no doubt because they always found the treasure. She just couldn’t stop the negative thoughts creeping in because something would go wrong, it always did. “The crown has gotta be up there. Come on, let’s go.” JC nodded as she heard Rafe walk a few steps away, her eyes on the statue as she wished the others were here. They all deserved to be here and basking in this glory. It drained from her as Rafe spoke again, trying to get their attention. JC turned around, her mouth opening in shock and disbelief of their luck as Rafe spoke making dread flow through her; “Sandstorm.” JC kicked a rock, anger cursing through her veins as she threw up her hands, “Fuck you universe! Fuck you.” Taking a breath she lowered her goggles and wrapped her scarf around her mouth and nose, protecting herself from the oncoming sand. Just like that, they were off running once again. A race against time, something they were all familiar with.

“Come on. Hurry. We’ve gotta try to get up there before the storm hits.” JC rolled her eyes, once again annoyed with her best friend’s ability to point out the obvious. “No shit Sherlock. I thought we were gonna wait for the storm.” As John B glanced back at her, she mumbled a low apology. Tensions were high and she didn’t need to take it out on her friends, but something was eating away at her. As if a warning was sounding off and something really bad was coming. JC let out a startled gasp as her brother’s voice sounded from behind her; “John B. JC. Hey! Do you see what’s coming?”

JC turned and pulled him into a hug, ignoring everything because she needed him. He was safe, and alive and right there in front of her. Pulling away they instinctively intertwined their hands, the twins rarely liked physical affection or contact but with each other it was one of their main love languages. As JJ asked if they had any idea on where to look for the crown, JC smiled and lifted his chin so he was staring up at the statue. “Right in front of us baby brother.”

Her smile faded as John B said they needed to climb and JJ immediately looked like he was preparing himself. No, she wasn’t going to let him climb up the statue not with his injury. Not when she was there. Before anyone could say or do anything else a strong gust of wind hit and sand was filling the air like fog. The sandstorm had reached them. JC didn’t like the odds of this, didn’t like how it was impossible to see much less breathe even with her scarf protecting her. She felt her stomach drop as Rafe spoke, “Hey, I’m gonna go scope it out, all right? I’ll meet you all up there!” Then just like that he was gone, and she couldn’t see him anymore. Her hand squeezed tighter on JJ, scared she’d lose him too.

Then once again, the group was splitting up. JC knew they couldn’t leave Rafe, not because they couldn’t trust him but because he would need help. Bending down she grabbed her knife from her boot, grabbing John B’s hand and pressing it into his palm. Her hands wrapping around his. “Protect Sarah, and protect yourself. Stay safe, and we’ll see you with the crown.” She watched as they ran off, before she turned and followed after JJ and Kiara. Praying nothing would happen to any of them.

[raspberryslxt]

UNEXPECTED TURNS - PART 4

TVD X OBX FANFICTION

jj maybank x gilbert!reader x rafe cameron

slight klaus mikaelson x gilbert!reader

-

Y/n stared at the blinking cursor on her phone screen, her half-typed message to Elena mocking her indecision.

“I’m coming home.”

The words sat there, waiting for her to hit send.

For the past few days, the pull to Mystic Falls had grown stronger with every conversation with Elena. Her sister had danced around the details, but y/n could feel the tension in her voice. Something was wrong—something Elena was either too afraid or too unsure to explain.

Still, leaving Outer Banks wasn’t just a decision; it was a severing of ties she wasn’t ready to make.

She glanced around her room in the Cameron house, the space that had slowly begun to feel like hers. Photos of her parents sat on the bedside table, mingled with new memories—Sarah’s hair ties, a sketch Pope had made of the Pogues, and a seashell JJ had tossed at her during one of their beach trips.

Her heart twisted painfully as she finally sent the message:

“I’ll be there soon.”

-

Y/n grabbed her duffel bag from the closet, her hands trembling as she began throwing clothes and belongings into it. Her mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts: how would Sarah take the news? What about JJ? And then there was Rafe.

A knock on the door startled her, and she turned to see Ward standing in the doorway. His calm demeanor only made her stomach churn with guilt.

“You’re leaving,” he said, not a question, but a statement.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice wavering as she zipped the duffel halfway.

Ward stepped further into the room, his expression unreadable. “Elena called, didn’t she?”

Y/n nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n,” Ward said, his tone soft but firm, “I know things with your sister are complicated, but this isn’t the right time to leave. You’ve just started to find your footing here.”

“I know,” she said, brushing past him to grab a stack of books from the desk. “But she needs me. And I can’t just ignore that.”

Ward sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think you understand what you’re walking away from. This life, this opportunity… it’s not something you can just come back to when you’ve changed your mind.”

Y/n turned to face him, the duffel dangling from her hand. “Ward, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. Really. But this is my family.”

“This is your family now,” Ward said, his voice rising slightly. “Your parents trusted me to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’m trying to do that, but you’re making it impossible.”

“Safe from what?” y/n shot back, her frustration boiling over. “You act like I’m some fragile thing that can’t handle herself. I’ve been through more than you realize, and I’m still standing. I think I can handle going back home.”

Ward’s jaw tightened. “You don’t understand what’s out there.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the intensity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like he was talking about more than Mystic Falls or her past.

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, stepping closer.

Ward shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If you walk out that door, I can’t protect you anymore.”

“I never asked you to protect me,” y/n said, her voice steady now. “I appreciate everything, but this isn’t your call to make. It’s mine.”

Ward stared at her for a long moment, his expression a mix of anger and something else—fear. Finally, he stepped aside, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Do what you have to do,” he said quietly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat tight as she hoisted the duffel onto her shoulder.

-

The sun was beginning to set by the time y/n reached the Chateau, the orange glow casting long shadows across the yard. The Pogues were lounging on the porch, their laughter carrying through the air.

JJ was the first to notice her, his smile fading as he took in the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” he asked, standing up.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze flicking between him, John B, Pope, and Kiara. “I’m leaving.”

The words hung in the air, met with stunned silence.

“Leaving?” Pope echoed, frowning.

“Back to Mystic Falls,” y/n explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “Elena needs me.”

JJ’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes narrowing. “What about us? About everything we’ve been doing?”

“This isn’t about you,” y/n said, stepping closer to him. “This is about my sister. She’s family.”

“We’re family,” JJ shot back, his voice cracking slightly.

Y/n’s chest ached at the rawness in his tone. “I know. And you have no idea how hard this is for me. But I can’t ignore this. Elena wouldn’t call me unless it was serious.”

Kiara stepped forward, her expression softening. “We get it, y/n. You have to do what you have to do.”

John B nodded reluctantly. “Just don’t forget where we are, okay? You’ll always have a place here.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Finally, she turned to JJ, who was staring at the ground, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“JJ,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He pulled away, his voice bitter. “Just go.”

Y/n’s heart shattered, but she knew better than to push him. With one last glance at the Pogues, she turned and walked away, the sound of JJ’s angry footsteps retreating behind her.

-

Back at the Cameron estate, y/n paused at the edge of the driveway, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Sarah stood by the front steps, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I don’t want you to go,” Sarah said, her voice trembling.

“I don’t want to go either,” y/n admitted. “But I have to.”

Sarah nodded, blinking back tears. “Just… promise me you’ll call. And come back, okay? You belong here.”

Y/n hugged her tightly, the weight of her decision settling heavily in her chest.

As she climbed into the cab waiting at the curb, she glanced up at the house one last time. Rafe was standing in the upstairs window, his silhouette barely visible through the curtain. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and y/n thought she saw something in his expression—a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

Then the cab pulled away, and the Cameron estate disappeared from view.

-

As the cab drove toward the ferry terminal, y/n stared out at the darkening horizon, her thoughts racing. She’d made her choice, but the uncertainty of what awaited her in Mystic Falls gnawed at her.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, and she glanced down to see a message from Elena.

“Thank you for coming. I’ll explain everything when you get here. Be safe.”

Y/n clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. Whatever was waiting for her in Mystic Falls, she would face it. For Elena, for her parents, and for herself.

But as the ferry loomed in the distance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her departure from the Outer Banks was more than just a temporary goodbye—it was the beginning of a much larger reckoning.

-

The bustling airport was a blur of movement and noise as y/n dragged her duffel bag through the terminal. She’d barely slept the night before, her thoughts tangled between the life she was leaving behind in the Outer Banks and the unknown that awaited her in Mystic Falls.

Elena’s cryptic phone call still echoed in her mind. Her sister sounded scared, but there was something else—a quiet urgency that y/n couldn’t ignore.

The automated voice over the loudspeaker announced her flight’s gate number, and she adjusted the strap of her bag, heading toward Gate 7. She found a seat near the window, dropping her bag beside her and leaning back with a sigh.

As she watched planes taxiing on the runway, a sense of unease crept over her. There was something about leaving the Outer Banks that felt too final, like she was stepping into a story she wasn’t ready for.

-

Lost in thought, y/n didn’t notice the man walking by until he accidentally brushed against her.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, glancing up.

The man turned, and for a moment, y/n forgot how to breathe.

He was tall and strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. His blonde hair was tousled in a way that looked effortless but intentional, and his tailored jacket suggested he was no stranger to luxury.

“No need to apologize,” he said, his voice smooth and accented. British? No—something older, more refined.

She blinked, realizing she was staring. “Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry.”

He offered her a small, enigmatic smile. “Traveling alone?”

Y/n hesitated. “Yeah. You?”

“Always,” he said, his tone light but tinged with something darker.

The man’s gaze flicked to the boarding pass clutched in her hand. “Mystic Falls,” he read, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Interesting destination.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “You know it?”

“Let’s just say I’ve heard stories,” he replied cryptically.

A twinge of curiosity stirred in y/n. “What about you? Where are you headed?”

He held up his own boarding pass, which bore the same destination. “It seems we’re fellow travelers.”

Y/n tilted her head, intrigued despite herself. “Small world.”

“Indeed,” he said, his smile deepening. “Allow me to introduce myself. Niklaus. But most people call me Klaus.”

“Y/n,” she said, shaking his outstretched hand. His grip was firm, his skin cool against hers.

Klaus’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if he were trying to decipher something. “You don’t seem like the Mystic Falls type.”

She laughed softly. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Klaus said with a smirk. “Just that it’s a… peculiar little town.”

Before y/n could press further, the loudspeaker announced that her flight would begin boarding soon.

-

As they waited, Klaus took the seat beside her, leaning back with a casual elegance that seemed at odds with the chaos of the airport around them.

“So,” he began, turning to her. “What takes you to Mystic Falls?”

Y/n hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Family. My sister needs me.”

Klaus nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, family. A noble cause. Though it can be a double-edged sword, don’t you think?”

She frowned, caught off guard by the comment. “How so?”

“Family can be both a blessing and a curse,” Klaus said, his voice low and measured. “They demand loyalty, yet often hold secrets of their own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something about Klaus—something magnetic and unnerving all at once.

“I guess,” she said cautiously. “What about you? Why Mystic Falls?”

Klaus’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Let’s just say I’m following a lead.”

“A lead?”

“On something I’ve been searching for,” he said vaguely.

“Sounds mysterious,” y/n said, narrowing her eyes.

Klaus chuckled, the sound rich and smooth. “I suppose it does. But I find that life is far more interesting when it’s shrouded in a little mystery, don’t you?”

Y/n couldn’t help but smile. “I guess you have a point.”

-

The boarding announcement interrupted their conversation, and y/n gathered her bag, falling into line with the other passengers. Klaus followed behind her, his presence a steady hum in the background.

As they stepped onto the plane, y/n glanced over her shoulder. Klaus caught her eye and gave her a small, knowing smile, as if they were sharing some unspoken secret.

Her seat was a few rows ahead of his, and as she settled in, she couldn’t shake the feeling that their meeting wasn’t a coincidence.

Who was Klaus, really? And what was he looking for in Mystic Falls?

As the plane taxied down the runway and the world outside blurred into motion, y/n couldn’t help but feel that she was hurtling toward something far bigger than herself—something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

-

Hours later, as the plane began its descent, Klaus passed by her seat, pausing just long enough to lean down and murmur, “Safe travels, y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other again.”

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of disembarking passengers.

Y/n watched him go, her heart pounding as questions swirled in her mind.

Mystic Falls was waiting, and with it, the secrets that would change everything.

-

AUTHOR’S NOTE

let me know if you would enjoy seeing more Y/N and Klaus content!

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART EIGHT/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: After Tommy gets mysteriously shot the responsibility to nurse him back to health falls on you. Will you be able to accept Tommy's apologies and give him a second chance when the guilt of how he has treated you slowly creeps up on him?

Warnings: Language, mentions of injury, mentions of blood, angst, controlling behaviour, toxic marriage, psychological mind games, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

" Shot? What...what happened?" you said resting your back against the headboard, rubbing your eyes in the process as sleep continued to weigh them down.

" I don't know Y/N, I don't fucking know!" he replied in a panicked voice as he removed his peaked cap, pinching the bridge of his nose. " He's asking for you, come on let's go" he said grabbing your hand when you suddenly pulled it back. "He's your husband...what's wrong with you?" John asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion at your reluctance to follow. "What the fucks going on in here...?" he said looking around the somber room once again when the door suddenly flew open and Arthur came frantically running in.

"John! I can't get the bullet out by myself, you need to hold him still" Arthur said as he stood by the door, wiping the sweat from his forehead as blood dripped from his hands. As John ran out the door Arthur looked back at you, reaching his hand out for yours.

" Y/N. Tommy needs you" he said ushering you forward as he looked at the hesitation in your eyes.

"No..." you mouthed quietly, shaking your head as you grasped the bed sheets tightly in your hands.

" I don't have bloody time for this" he muttered under his breath as he let go of the door handle, quickly disappearing from the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed you listened to the sound of your husbands cries echoing through the house as an unpleasant feeling arose in your chest. Contentment, contentment at hearing him in pain, hearing him suffer. The same level of pain and suffering he had unforgivably inflicted on you.

" Where's my wife?!" You heard him yell between groans as you now stood at the top of the stairs, your feet unwilling to move any further. His wife. The wife he had abused since the day you committed yourselves to eachother, the wife he had embarrassed and belittled without hesitation, the wife he had tormented relentlessly with his sadistic games, and now what? He expected you to comfort him like any loving wife would?

"Arthur hurry the fuck up and get it out, else I'll do it myself!" You heard Tommy bellow whilst you walked slowly down the large wooden stairs, the sudden desire to see him in pain pushing your feet forward with each step you took.

Waiting by the living room door you watched John pinning Tommy's arms back behind him as Arthur sat in front of him ripping his bloodied shirt from his body, giving it to John who then threw it into the crackling fire next to him.

"Shit Tommy, two inches to the left and you'd be a dead man" Arthur announced as he picked up his pocket knife dousing it in alcohol. "This is gonna hurt like hell brother..."

" Wait, wait!" Tommy said through gritted teeth as he spotted you."Y/N sweetheart, come to me" Tommy pleaded as he pulled his hand away from John's grip, desperately reaching out for you. With the three brothers now staring back at you, you felt you had no choice but to go to your husbands side. With his hand now firmly wrapped around yours, you finally looked down at the bullet hole below his collarbone. Arthur was right he could have died it was mere centimeters from his heart, almost the exact same location as a previous gunshot wound.

" Did you call an ambulance?" You said turning to John as Tommy's grip tightened around your hand at the sight of the knife moving closer to his body.

" I'm not leaving this house Y/N" Tommy said as he looked up at you, his hair disheveled, a layer of sweat coating his face as he breathed heavily through his nose.

"John" Arthur said looking to his brother as the youngest pulled Tommy's arms back once again. With one last glance to you, Tommy licked the sweat of his top lip nodding to Arthur as he braced himself for what was about to happen.

" Three two.." with the countdown unfinished Arthur plunged the sharp blade through the gaping hole in Tommy's chest, squeezing his fingers around the bullet hole as he tried to pry the led from his body. You watched on as all the bravado he once possessed left his body as he whimpered and yelled in pain, his eyes scrunched shut as the knife pierced his already wounded body. "There's the sneaky bastard" Arthur smiled as the silver bullet fell into his palm. "Here, one more to add to your collection" he chuckled, dropping the small piece of led into a glass ash tray on the table beside him. "Now drink this" he added, picking up a bottle of whiskey that Tommy swiftly grabbed from his hands, downing a third of what was left within a few seconds. " Right. Hold on" Arthur said taking it back, pouring the rest of its contents straight into the open wound.

" FUCKK!" Tommy shouted in response letting go of your hand, his eyes now locked on Arthurs face as his fist came up to punch his older brother in the cheek, a punch Arthur dodged almost instantly.

" Come on Tom, soldier up" Arthur laughed patting him on the back as he exchanged a grin with John." Y/N, you bandage him up" your brother-in-law said as he walked off to get himself a well deserved drink.

" Arthur I don't know how to..."

" There's nothing to it Y/N, here" John interrupted, passing you the bandages as you looked down at your husband hunched over trying to catch his breath.

" Maybe it's best..."

" Darling...please" Tommy said grabbing your arm, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. Swallowing harshly you sat down in front of your husband as he tried to focus his eyes on you through the pain radiating through his chest, groaning as he straightened his posture out.

" Bet your loving this ey?" he scoffed as his trembling hands reached for the packet of cigarettes next to him, his eyes following yours as you placed a square of cotton over his open wound. Ignoring his remark you continued to bandage him up as Tommy tried to catch your eye, needy for his wife's attention. "Hey" he said grabbing your hand as you finished fastening the bandage across his chest. " You don't fucking care do you?" he asked tilting his head, squinting his eyes in disbelief as his cigarette hung from his lips. Looking away you tried to stand up, only for Tommy to pull your arm, forcing you back down Into the chair, his jaw clenching in annoyance at your continued refusal to meet his eyes.

" What happened?" Polly said walking through the door as she hurried over to Tommy to check the damage.

" Fuck sake" Tommy mumbled under his breath unaware his Aunt had been called.

" Found him on the ground by the front door as we pulled up" John said as he walked back over with a drink in his hand, seemingly unbothered by his brother having just been shot.

" John I'm gonna need a bit more information than that" Polly said as she opened the bandages to check the wound, her eyes darting to you still sitting next to your husband, his hand firmly holding onto yours.

" Bloody hell Pol!" Tommy said wincing in pain as she pushed the flesh around the bullet hole checking for any fragments. " The bullet came out clean, Arthur saw to that" he said looking over to his brother who tipped his glass of whiskey in Tommy's direction.

" Where's his shirt?" Polly asked as she looked back at her nephews." Where's his fucking shirt?!"

" John threw it in the fire. Polly will you calm down, I've got thumping headache after tonight's events" Arthur complained as he let himself drop into a nearby arm chair, desperate to go home.

" Bloody idiots" she mumbled under her breath looking up at the ceiling as if she was asking a higher power why she had been unfairly blessed with three halfwits for nephews. "Now that I don't have his shirt I can't see if any cloth is missing and lodged inside, can I?" she huffed standing up.

" I put half a bottle of whiskey on it, he's good" Arthur said rubbing his forehead as he let his head drop back onto the cushion behind him, closing his eyes.

" For your sake he better be. And you still haven't told me what happened" Polly asked as she placed her hands on her hips, looking around the room at each of her nephews.

" Was coming back from the stables. Two chancers tried their luck. Took a shot at me" Tommy explained casually without giving anymore detail as he took a drag of his cigarette.

" I didn't hear a gunshot" you spoke up, your eyes darting around the room at everyone only to catch Tommy's, his brows raised in surprise at your outspokenness as an unnerving glint shone in his eyes. Swallowing harshly you looked away as Tommy squeezed your hand in response. Had you said the wrong thing?

" They would have used a silencer love" Arthur said putting his feet up on the sofa in front of him.

" Have you checked the grounds?" Polly asked pushing Arthur's muddy boots off the sofa with her foot as Tommy's thumb firmly rubbed small circles into the back of your hand, a warning to not misbehave, a caution to not dare speak again. Slowly disconnecting from what was happening around you, you looked up to see a small smirk form on the corner of your husbands lips through the cigarette smoke leaving his mouth, his stare boring into you as he looked down at the exposed skin where your dressing gown had come loose. Pulling your hand away you abruptly stood up closing your gown tighter around your body as you walked over to the window whilst the sound of conversation re-entered your hearing.

" I need to rest" Tommy said standing up as he looked over to you.

" What you need is a doctor" Polly answered, pushing him back down as she walked over to where you was standing in concern.

" We've already called one, he should be here any minute" John announced as he poured himself another drink, shaking the bottle as the last few drops spilled out.

" Y/N love, would you go get us another bottle of whiskey" she asked placing her hand on your arm. " Are you ok? " she said quietly, her eyebrows raised at the worried expression spread across your face. What was Tommy playing at? He had men guarding the perimeters of the property since the day he dragged you back to Arrow House. How could he have gotten shot?

" I'm fine Polly" you said as you left the room, Tommy's eyes following you as he went to stand up again, only for his Aunt to stop him for a second time.

Out in the hallway you broke down in tears. You wanted everything to just stop. The nights sudden events had set your already fragile state on edge, and with the constant threat of Tommy's ongoing punishment looming over you, you couldn't help but think this was another part of his sadistic plan.

" My wife's upset I need to see her" Tommy said as he got up from his chair.

" I'll check on Y/N, you stay seated" Polly said pointing her finger at her nephew. Falling back into his seat Tommy clenched his jaw, pinching his bottom lip as he watched his Aunt leave the room, his inability to control the situation only frustrating him more.

"He's in there" Polly said pointing to the living room as the doctor walked into the foyer. " Y/N, come here" Polly said with her arms out as she walked over to you. "You're not okay, has anything else happened ?" she asked as you shook your head in response, nervously biting your nails. "Look what happened the other day.." she began to say unable to even explain the previous days events herself. " What happened should have never took place, what Tommy did was unforgivable, monstrous. Y/N, if you're searching for the man he once was you won't find him, he died a long time ago, and I fear he would be far worse without you by his side. He's my nephew and as much as I hate the man he has become he is still family, but so are you love. I can help you Y/N" she said as she held onto your arm. " Do you want help?" Looking away tears welled in your eyes as you clutched your arms around your body looking to the front door.

" No" you sobbed shaking your head, as you watched Tommy's figure approach you both in the corner of your eye.

" Y/N let's go to bed, the doctors given me the all clear" Tommy said walking to you with a bottle of medicine in his hand as Polly nodded her head, letting go of your arm as a defeated look spread across her face. You was a grown woman she couldn't force you, she had offered help, it was now your choice to take it or not.

" I'll stay until the morning, make sure you take that" she said over her shoulder as she walked away back into the living room.

With his hand resting on your lower back Tommy led you up the stairs as you both walked up to the second floor in silence.

" No, not this room " Tommy said as he took your hand leading you to one of the many guest rooms down the hallway. Opening the door Tommy walked you in as his eyes lustfully roamed over your body.

" Why this room?" You questioned as you looked around at the dimly lit bedroom.

"Just come to bed Y/N " he said as he pulled back the sheets waiting for you.

"Your medicine" you said pointing at the small bottle in his hand as you climbed under the sheets, turning around away from him. A few minutes later you felt him climb in, his arm wrapping around you as a grunt left him mouth at the pain coursing through his body. Within seconds you felt Tommy's lips kissing along the back of your neck, his hand resting on your upper thigh caressing small circles into your skin as his fingers slowly reached under your gown.

" You were teasing me downstairs sweetheart" he moaned quietly into your throat, his lips smiling into your skin as he grinded his hips against your body. Quickly moving away you pushed his hand off you, pulling the bed sheets closer to your body.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he rolled onto his back. " If you won't let me fuck you, will you at least talk to me?" He huffed as he looked over to you curled up on your side of the bed. " Your husband gets shot and you don't bat an eyelid. You're not as sweet and innocent as you claim to be" he scoffed as he turned back to you, pulling the sheets away from under your chin. "Hey, I'm talking to you"

" How did you get shot Tommy?!" you replied as you turned around to face him unable to ignore his remarks any longer, your emotions so heightened you ceased believing anything he said anymore.

" I already told you Y/N" he said looking away as you turned back around pulling the covers away from him.

" In sickness and in health ey" Tommy chuckled as he leaned over to turn the bedside light off, his head falling back onto the pillow as exhaustion overtook his body.

" You forgot the rest of your vows Tommy"

It was early morning when you rolled over to see Tommy breathing heavily, sweat coating his body as his head turned left and right in a delirious state.

" Tommy?" You said sitting up as you shook his arm trying to wake him. He was burning up, his pillow drenched, how long had he been like this? For a moment you just sat there and watched him as he breathed heavily through strangled groans. You could leave him, let him pay for everything he had done to you. You thought to yourself as you watched him tremble in pain.

" Get a doctor" Tommy croaked out grabbing your hand as if he could sense your apprehension. Nodding your head you walked out the bedroom making your way down the hallway until you suddenly stopped, your hand gripping tightly onto the top of the stair banister as the sound of the dials on the hallway clock turning ticked loudly in your ears. Taking a step back you turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you started to walk in the opposite direction. Was you really going to do this? Let your husband die? A sudden wave of guilt washed over you as you wrapped your arms around your body in a desperate attempt to comfort yourself.

" Y/N?" You heard Polly's voice say behind you as you let your arms drop to your sides. Turning around your eyes nervously darted to the bedroom then back to her. " What's going on?" She asked approaching you as she looked at the door.

" It's...it's Tommy he has a fever. I was going to call a doctor" you responded trying to avoid her stare.

" A doctor?" She questioned as she looked behind you, knowing the only telephone in the house was downstairs. Nodding you turned your head away as you frantically played with the sleeve of your dressing gown. " Ok Y/N, I want you to go downstairs and call doctor Taylor, ok?" Nodding you hurried past her as she watched you walk away. Did she know your true intentions?

With the doctor having been called and now tending to Tommy with Polly by his side, you waited downstairs aimlessly wandering around the house. You didn't want to see him, you didn't want to face him, guilt was consuming you. How could you have been so malicious in your disdain for your husband that you was ready to let him die a painful death? You thought to yourself looking out the front door as one of Tommy's men walked past. This wasn't like you, you wasn't him. As anxiety pumped though your body you ran over to the open door, desperate to feel the morning breeze on your face when one of Tommy's men stopped you.

"I just need some fresh air" you said trying to push past him.

" No one leaves the house, Tommy's orders" he replied as he looked past you.

" No one, or just me?" You said as he finally looked down at you. " I see" you said folding your arms turning around when your husband's sudden cry caught your attention.

" Y/N!" You heard Polly shout, calling your name as you hurried up the stairs to the bedroom.

Opening the door you immediately looked away at the sight of Tommy's infected wound as the doctor pulled out a small piece of cloth from the bullet hole. Grunting in pain Tommy's fingers came up to wrap around the doctors neck only for his hand to quickly fall back down onto the bed, his body too weak to fight.

" Did Mr Shelby take the medicine I prescribed?" He asked looking between you and Polly.

" Y/N?"

" Yes last night" you said trying to think back, did he take it? Why wouldn't he? Where was it? You questioned as your eyes darted around the room in search of the small bottle.

" Doctor" Polly said nodding to the door as he followed her out to talk in the corridor whilst you stood at the end of the bed looking anywhere but at your husband.

"Don't worry, I'll be dead soon" Tommy said swallowing back the swelling in his throat. He was deathly pale, his whole body trembling in pain as he tried to reach for the glass of water beside him whilst you watched on at his helplessness.

" Fuck sake" you mumbled under your breath as you walked to his side of the bed. Siting down next to him you gently lifted the back of his head as you poured small amounts of water into his mouth. After only a few sips Tommy pushed the glass away as his head fell back onto the pillow, looking at you through exhausted eyes.

" Everything's in your name" he said in lagged breaths as he tried to search for your hand.

" Why are you saying this?" you replied looking back at him scrunching you brow in confusion.

"Come on darling, don't lie to yourself. You've wanted me dead for a long time"

" Stop it Tommy, stop saying these things" you cried as you pulled your hand away. Was he playing the cruelest game of them all? Was he trying to make you feel pity for him after everything he had done to you?

" I've always loved you Y/N " he confessed as you looked away, tears streaming down your face quicker than you could brush them away.

"Y/N a word" Polly said as she entered the room pulling you to one side.

" Picked out my coffin yet?" Tommy coughed trying to let out a strangled laugh.

" Shut up" Polly said turning to face him. "The doctor said he needs to make it through the night if he's going to survive this infection. I have to go into the city before everything falls apart, you need to stay here and look after him, I'll be back in the morning, ok?"

" Polly no, you can't leave me here alone with him, I don't know what to do"

" You don't have a choice, he needs you Y/N" Polly said as she quickly left the room, not giving you a chance to argue any further with her.

Turning around you looked back at your husband as he lay in bed, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as his body tried to rid itself of the infection taking over. Pacing back and forth, a feeling of frustration overwhelmed you at the cruel twist of fate. You was now the one who had to nurse him back to health when the only thing you wanted to do was watch the life slip away from him.

" Just leave Y/N " Tommy said as he tried to get up from the bed.

" What are you doing?" you said in annoyance as you walked over to him.

" Let me die" he replied as he laid back down. You wanted him to suffer, but seeing him like this, desperate and weak made your inner battle of anger and guilt fight eachother for dominance.

" Just shut up" you said giving in as you walked over to the bowl of water by his bed, angrily dipping the cloth into the cold water. Sitting down beside him you started to dab the sweat from his body as Tommy looked up at you.

"Y/N..."

" Stop talking Tommy, I don't want to hear it" you said as you threw the cloth back into the bowl your hands coming to your face in frustration. Reaching out Tommy's hand slowly moved up your arm, as he tried to move your fingers away from your face.

"Y/N, I'm sorry" he said as you looked back at him, tears streaming down your face.

" No Tommy, you don't get to say that after everything you've done, you don't get to do this!"

" I don't deserve you, I never did" as the last words left his mouth Tommy slowly closed his eyes as the final bits of strength faded within him.

For hours you stayed by his bedside, wiping the sweat from his body, bandaging and cleaning his wound, hushing him as strangled moans left his mouth as he called out your name, begging you to stop the pain. And when he did sleep your eyes stayed fixed on his stomach as you watched it move up and down with each breath. Was you waiting for it to stop, was you afraid it would stop? You couldn't tell anymore. Why did it have to come to this? You thought as you continued to torment yourself with the satisfaction you felt when you first saw him in pain. You loved him, and now you cruelly found yourself having to decide if you loved him enough to continue to comfort and tend to him. Desperate for fresh air you stood up walking over to the window as you knocked over a chair with Tommy's clothes laying on top of it. "Shit" you mouthed to yourself, worried the sudden noise would wake him as you bent down to pick up his suit jacket when a small photo folded in half caught your eye. Turning it over you opened it to see a picture of you and Tommy taken before the war. It was old and battered, the edges torn and frailing, it looked like it had been through a war itself.

"You kept me alive" Tommy said coughing as he slowly turned his head to you.

" You've had this in your pocket all these years?"

" I took it to France" he replied as you walked over to sit beside him. Reaching out Tommy took the picture from you, rubbing his thumb over it as if he had done it a thousand times already, the movement engraved into his memory, a ritual he had repeated countless times before. Handing it back to you Tommy began to cough uncontrollably as you quickly reached for the the glass of water beside him, tenderly holding his cheek as you poured small amounts into his mouth.

"When I was in France" he started to say as he cleared his throat the swelling engulfing his body making it hard for him to talk. " I'd stare at that picture every night and take myself back to watery lane, back to you. It was the only thing that stopped me from running over the line. I've always loved you Y/N, I never stopped"

" And yet you killed for me in the name of love Tommy, killings that never needed to happen. Is that true love to you?"

" Your horse was lame darling"

" And my friend...was that a mercy too?"

A silence fell upon the room, Tommy had nothing to say. A battle within himself to make things right fought with his own reasoning that what he had done was justified. Had he suddenly begun to feel guilt in everything he had done? Maybe the unexpected feeling of deaths eyes bearing down on him had finally made him face his own monstrous actions.

" There's no going back to the start is there?" Tommy said as he weakly looked up into your eyes. Shaking your head tears fell down your cheeks as Tommy brought his hand up to brush them away with his thumb. Holding onto your hand Tommy swallowed harshly as his emotions threatened to spill over.

" Please, don't let go " he said gripping your hand tighter, his eyes closing once again as he drifted back to sleep. With tears burning your cheeks you reached out your hand as you gently caressed his face. Months of torment had come to an end, and for the first time in a long time you finally saw a small glimpse of the boy you used to know, the sweet loving boy you fell head over heels for. You could only hope it wasn't the fever talking and Tommy's remorse was as genuine as he had made you believe it was. As the hours passed by exhaustion started to take over. Closing your eyes you rested your head on your husband's stomach as the gentle lull of his body moving up and down with each breath he took rocked you soundly to sleep.

"You're still here" Tommy said as he woke up to you holding onto his hand hours later, your head still resting on his stomach. Bringing the back of your hand to his forehead you checked to see if his fever had passed.

" It's slowing down" you sighed, surprised by the sense of relief washing over you.

" You saved my life again" he replied sitting up, grunting at the continued pain stabbing him in his chest.

" I didn't do anything Tommy"

" You did Y/N, you kept me alive" he said as he leaned forward cupping your cheek in his hand. " Give me one more chance? He's not dead, the boy you once knew is still in there, help me find him"

" Tommy, everything you've done I can't forgive you for it. You've broken my heart so many times"

" I don't expect you to forgive me Y/N. I've lost who I was. I've done unspeakable things, but you, you can make me a better man. Please, just one more chance" he replied. His body having given him another breath of life he was now desperate for one more with you. Looking away your eyes flickered down to the photo of you both on top of the bed side cabinet that Tommy had kept in his pocket for the past decade. Your heart ached endlessly for the man you had first fell in love with all those years ago, stronger than any feeling you had ever known. The need to feel his arms wrapped around you, his warm body comforting you never left. He had a hold on you as much as you did with him. Was you as addicted to him as he was with you? His acts were evil, and there was no taking back what he had done, but even the worst of men could change couldn't they? Reaching up you rested your hand over Tommy's as he looked lovingly back into your eyes.

" Ok" you said nodding your head as tears fell down your cheeks. " Ok Tommy" smiling, Tommy leaned forward wincing in pain as he rested his forehead against yours.

" I'll be the man you want me to be" he said pressing his lips to your own in a tender embrace as your tears cascaded down between your cheeks.

Pulling back you was met with his piercing blue eyes staring back at you, a small smile on his lips as his thumb stroked firmly across your cheek. An all too familiar feeling suddenly settled in your stomach in response to his forceful touch as paranoia quickly rose within you.

Had he fooled you again?

NEXT PART

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