#this feeling...of being stuck in one place like my feet are permanently glued to where i am.. and i don't like where i am rn

[onyourzeus]

/ negative

[everafterkeiji]

in the end ft. keiji akaashi

Keep going.

You whispered to yourself as you let your fingers press on the keys with every note blaring in the background as the murmurs began to drown in the music you provided them. Your eyes were closed but a few pairs were on you like you had expected but you let the music take you as far as you pleased.

Everyone was shocked by your arrival but majority of those who knew you could never pass up the most important offer couldn't comment on your situation. You agreed nonetheless, music was your home, your sanctuary but now it's wrecked—the beauty in the melody was the facade for the mourning of your heart.

Bokuto's eyes on you was weary, ready to walk up to you once you were done but even his feet were glued to the floor when he sees the tears that you hid from everyone else. When you smiled to him, all the more his heart breaks when your eyes shined beneath the sun but the ace didn't feel a touch of warmth or a glimpse of saturation in you.

You were faced with an endless winter while the rest of them rejoiced in spring.

Konoha would notice the way his fingers never stayed put on his lap and his eyes didn't stray far from you. He would occasionally nudge Koutaro as a sign to kick in some sense to him to wonder about how you're doing. The two could agree that this was quite a torture show but for the rest of the people there? It was a performance of a lifetime.

Akaashi looks at you from where he stood, a proud grin on his lips while a few tears shed from his eyes while your own pair of dreaded eyes went to him, a sensation that you were habituated with but it never fails to dig a knife to your heart but the one who held the knife held no idea that he had pushed it too deep.

Returning your gaze onto the piano, it seems as if your tears coming down on the keys were the only sound that echoed throughout the silence. The forlornness was the only atmosphere that surrounded you while the rest was stuck with merriness. Even as you read the notes on the paper, your tear brimmed eyes can only see one clear message;

You're a fool.

You bit your lip while Konoha held onto Bokuto to restrain the man from stopping you. There are dozens of people who were intent on praising you for your talent but the rest only had their eyes on the woman who had taken their heart as she walked, with every head turning her way.

You avert your eyes as Bokuto takes a look at his best friend who wore an expression that deserved to be received by you. Meanwhile, you just tried to remove the void of emotions but the tears began to cascade without your awareness.

For Keiji, you looked like you cried for the sake of his dream coming to reality.

Unfortunately, the harsh truth was that you wept because you were playing from your torn heart.

At the place where he vowed his promises.

For someone else.

"I'll marry you for being a nice person." Your younger self spoke in a soft manner, embarrassed that the boy in front of you had to see you struggle at carrying all the books.

He stares at you for a while but then he burst out into laughter making you shy away but the sound was addicting as well as the sweetest echo.

"Marry me? Well, my name is Akaashi Keiji. If that's the name you're going to take." He jokes but there's a kind glimmer in his eyes as you blushed while he held the other half of the books.

"I'm Y/N." You smiled at him, even if you had come across as hilarious, your parents taught you one thing that even he would understand.

You marry someone for the best reasons.

In this case, when you had all of them, you still weren't the bride to be.

As Akaashi looks at you, you could only cry. Even as kids, he was the same. The same boy that helped you when you were caught eating by the teacher, the one who purposely threw a volleyball to your ex boyfriends way for cheating on you, and the one who you've loved since you were eighteen.

You closed your eyes shut as your fingers didn't meet with the keys anymore, the music has faded as they all stood up giving you an advantage to slowly disappear as Bokuto disregards Konoha's banter as your tears land on your white dress that was now only covered by the darkness that surrounded your shattered heart.

"Hey, that's my favorite song." He says entering the room while you smiled at him as he leans on the lid, absolutely in love at your skill to play his song. He places his palm on his cheek before you called him over.

"I'll teach you." You said as he sits beside you, a minimum convenience where you held his hands to guide him that sets your heart into a flutter.

He looks at you and with a closeness that threatens his weaknesses, he pulls away sending you a pinch to every fibre in your body but when he sees the flash of hurt in your eyes, he should've known that it was harmless if he could've stayed in that position longer, maybe then he could've realized how clueless he was.

And with the same song played by you, at the exact chapel where he was about to face a future you had dreamed of for only you two, you had to hear the words that you swore were only a death for you.

"I do."

A/N: listening to Try Again while writing this is illegal, i am permanently heartbroken

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Hong Kong - Edited Version. Part 6.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​​, @angelic-demonss

The night consisted of looking through the research and planning the best way to go about getting the dictators brother out of the tower in Hong Kong as discreetly as possible.

That wasn't the most exciting part about that night though, at least for Zero. In all fairness she was trying to concentrate on the meeting, but it's hard when a certain blonde haired, green eyed beauty kept staring her down. He even had the nerve to smirk at her when he caught her staring back. Dam him. She hadn't even been in his presence for 24 hours, yet she couldn't decide if she wanted to beat the shit out of him or jump him, kissing him like her life depended on it.

Maybe both?

Five had kindly offered Zero the pull out bed in her converted shipping containment while One made arrangements to get her, her own little space like the others had, a permanent home of her own sounded very nice indeed.  Although Zero tossed and turned most of the night she couldn't say the next morning that she was at all that tired when she woke up, the excitement was coursing through her veins and the anticipation to actually get to do field work was overwhelming her. One knocked on the girls door and dropped off the little of Zero’s belongings that she still had, he must have been back to the hotel room and collected everything, she thanked him but he just nodded slightly. “Still pissed at me I see.” She turned to Five who was sitting at the small table having some light breakfast 

“He’ll get over it.” She gave me her best smile. “Don’t worry.” 

With her belongings now returned to her, she decided to go for a shower and get into some fresh clothes so she’d be comfortable for the flight. She stepped out of the shower, dried off then dressed in some black skinny jeans and threw on a long burgundy striped top. Finishing the look off with some long black boots that had laces all the way to the top and a dark green leather jacket. She slung the duffel with all her clothes in it over her shoulder and grabbed onto her laptop bag then headed out to meet Five on the tarmac.  She walked in the middle, the others chatting away behind her meanwhile One was up front, no doubt eager to get the planes engine started. 

Zero decided to sit in her own section, unlike the others she had some work to do and getting distracted wasn’t a option.  Two took the seat behind her, Three sat across from Two. While Four and Five where opposite Zero, Five sitting in the same row as her. Four just had to placed himself on the other row by the window, the perfect place to make side eye at her. Great! Now she had to deal with a 5 hour flight feeling him burn holes into my head and be the biggest distraction from her work.

"So.” His voice rang through the aeroplane that had just got very noisy due to One starting the engines. “How are you feeling this morning sweetheart?" His voice was like honey, it would something she could never ignore no matter how much she tried. His low tones sounded way better in person than over coms.

She smiled over at Four as best as she could, trying not to show how much the nickname effected her on the inside. "Fine.” She sighed. “More excited than nervous really. It's just great not to be stuck in a room 24/7.” She smiled taking the chance to now turn the tables and tease him. “How you feeling monkey boy?"

"Why do you have to call me that?” He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees staring intensely at her. “You could at least come up with something that sounds a bit more sexy, don’t you think?" He looked at her with a cute pout, something she thought he was trying to melt her with. 

“I think it’s sexy, monkey boy.” Three chimed in and everyone burst into laughter, but Four was glued to Zero.  She just scoffed. "I think you're the only person that thinks you're sexy, well apart from that blonde you picked up at the bar, and Thee of course." 

"Are you jealous, Zero? You know that was for mission purposes, besides I've seen the way you stare at me sweetheart." She just laughed, she’d lost count at the amount of times she’d scoffed at this boy.

She opened her laptop, fully intent on ignoring him the rest of the flight "Keep telling yourself that babe."

"You guys do know where all still here right?" One said awkwardly over the aeroplanes intercom. “Okay everyone strap in and shut up, we’re setting off now.” 

It was about an hour into the flight, everything had been considerately quiet since four at fallen asleep against the window, Zero would steal glances at him every once in a while. Seven announced that things would start to get bumpy, and Three started to get very uneasy. "You know I usually just look at the staff to see if I should be worried." She turned to see him clutching white knuckle to his seat.

"I think you mean the flight attendants, you can just look at me." Two said.

"Oh darling, no offence but you could be on fire and you'd have the same blank expression on your face." Zero turned to raise my eyebrows at Five, who looked back at her just as amused. and a look that said ‘something is definitely going on with these two.’ Zero nodded in agreement.

"You know what sucks guys, that if we were to crash." She looked over at Four this time to see if the commotion had woke him up, he opened one eye from his sleeping state to make a face at Five. "No one would ever care. Like we never existed." He said it loud enough for One to hear in the cockpit.

"You know I can hear you, if you're going to shit yourself there's a bathroom in the back.” Zero just giggled to herself and then got back to her work So this is what it was like to be truly around them, she liked it. It was always fun to hear their bickering over coms but this was even better, a warm feeling had started to invade her heart and a warm fuzzy feeling like home crept into her veins. It was nice to be around the right people again. They fought, they were sometimes asses but this was her true family and for once in her life she started to admire One for bringing such an amazing group of people together. She had decided in that moment that there was no where she’d rather be than here 35,000 feet up with the best bunch of idiots, and if she was to die on a mission she knew she had surrounded herself with the best adopted family she could have ever asked for.

When they finally landed, the colour is Three’s face gradually started to return, Zero took the opportunity while passing him in the aisle to pat him on the back, laughing as she exit. "Hey you little shit, don't make fun of me or I'll find out your fear." He just shouted after her retreating frame. They all dumped what little bags they had taken outside of the plane as One started the debrief one last time of the plan we were about to carry out. After about Twenty mins he decided to wrap it up. "Chowtime." One clasped his hands excitedly as the rest of the team cheered.

Zero decided that sitting at one of the higher tables would be more efficient for her to carry on her work, she’d almost finished on the plane but still had one more section to complete by tonight. She whipped out her note book, not feeling safe getting the laptop out in such an open and crowded space. But as soon as she’d put the paper on the table someone had ripped it out of her hands and in its place a bowl of noodles was set down.

"Hey!" She had began to protest looking up at the thief in question.

What she was not expecting was to be met with Four’s bright green eyes. Closing her note book, he placed it safely back in her laptop bag. "Do you ever stop working?" He sat down on the stool next to hers, and suddenly she was very self conscious. She tried to shake the feeling by directing her feelings to being annoyed he’d took her work, she sighed tilting her head at him. "It's been nonstop for three years of my life, I’m afraid at this point I don't know how to do anything else with my time."

"We could change that." He smirked.

She scoffed again, cracking open her chopsticks a little too aggressively but as to get the point across that she wasn’t in the mood for his flirting. "Excuse me, I'd like some alone time with my noodles."

"No come on.” He laughed, face turning more serious when he saw how fed up she was. “I’m sorry, I think we should start over."

"What?" She turned her head to him in confusion at how serious he’d become.

"We haven't had time to talk properly since you got here, seen as we've only really talked over the wire maybe we should have a fresh start." He held out his hand. "Hello, my names Four."

He at least managed to crack a small smile from her at this, she decided to humour him this once. Putting her chopsticks down, she took his hand and shook it. "Zero."

"What a beautiful name."

“Yeah,” She laughed. “Well, you should hear my real one.”

She’d completely forgotten about the electric pulse she had felt when they had brushed hands back in the hotel kitchen. But this time she was holding his hand and it felt like hot lava now, this fact meant she held onto it a little longer than she should have.  Suddenly letting go when the moment started getting awkward, she decided to focus on her noodles instead. 

"You know.” He started to talk again but she didn’t look up, taking another mouth full of noodles. “I was surprised that you didn't suddenly knock me on my ass when I came in." This made her laugh. "You've threatened me with it enough times."

"Well I could say the same for you.” He leaned in closer to her, his breath tickling the inside of her ear. “But there's plenty of time yet for that sweetheart.”  In a lower voice he continued. “I'll make you wait. Get you when you're least expecting it." He pulled back just to see her reaction, and was pleased with the blush on her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. "Are you nervous?" She asked not daring to look at him. "For the mission I mean."

"Why does everyone always ask me this." He huffed, leaning back on the stool.

"It's okay to be scared Four, fear is what keeps us alive." He didn't say anything, but when she finally looked up at him, he was looking at her with an emotion she just couldn't put her finger on.

"All you can ever do is your best." She smiled and finished up her noodles.

"I guess, hey! when did you get so smart?"

"Maybe about an hour ago?" They both just chuckled, finally the air around them settled.

"You guys finished? It's time to go." Seven said from behind them, putting his hand on Fours shoulder.

"Yeah, we're good." Zero smiled at Four as he passed her, her laptop bag.

As Zero started to walked out of the restaurant, Five caught her by her arm and linked them together, she then proceeded to hand Zero 50 dollars. "You were right, they did it in Vegas." She said defeated.

"Two and Three eh, maybe there hope for me after all." They both laughed as they crossed the road to catch up to the others who had already entered their hotel for the mission.

[rosecoloredbi-writes]

When the Spark Came Back

Summary: Y/N and Steve dating in high school until suddenly, they weren't. Steve had pushed Y/N away with no explanation. Years later, Y/N finds Steve on stage playing with his band and gathers the nerve to take a step towards healing.

A/N: there is a part 2 to this that I'll be posting momentarily.

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: Swearing? Mentions of parents divorce and kicking their kid out, I think that's it.

It had been too long since you had seen him. You think of the time that has passed by cruelly. Back then you had all been so full of life, so excited for the future, and now, here you were: a jaded 25 year old just looking for relief. College had been good to you, you grew into your own person instead of staying on the steady path of who everyone else had wanted you to be. You opened your arms to adventures rather than shrink from them. You put what you wanted first, and loved yourself first.

The thing that was cruel about time is that now, you no longer felt that excitement about life. Instead you dreaded facing the next day and drug your feet around.

But everything was different around him.

The steady beat of the bass filled your senses. The vibration practically waking you up from the awful nightmare life had been. Then you saw him, and your heart finally felt less heavy. He began strumming his guitar easily and you started singing along. Then you felt the warm glow in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as the memories started flooding back.

He had been your first love. In high school he was popular. Everyone loved him or was jealous of him. Eventually, a new boy moved to town and dethroned him of his title of King of Hawkins. He chilled out then. Became more down to earth, and that is when you really began to notice him. He hung out with kids around your sister’s age and could be found driving them to the arcade or bowling or every once in a while he would take them out one on one to get ice cream. He was more tender than he ever allowed himself to be.

To your surprise, he had begun to notice you too. He noticed the way you would shyly smile at him anytime he caught your eye. The way your eyes would light up when you got passionate in classes, and eventually on dates. He noticed everything and was quickly smitten.

The lead singer asked the crowd how they were doing, and the erupting cries brought you back into the present. He was just as lovely now as he ever had been. He had grown out of some of his boyish features, but his eyes still shined with childlike innocence. He still had his long wavy hair that he would run his hands through when they weren’t busy attending to the guitar strings and gripping the neck of his guitar.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the music, but as the concert came to an end you were filled with anxiety. Coming here had been a terrible decision. What if he had forgotten about you? What if that flame you still secretly held had fizzled out over the years apart? You knew that was a huge possibility, but your heart still silently thumped in hope that maybe, just maybe he still felt the same. Even though he had hurt you there had to be a reason, right? You don’t go from being absolutely in love to not overnight.. right?

Your feet carried you to the merch table where the band was hanging out, talking to fans and signing shirts and vinyls, and taking photos. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you heard your voice call out to him.

“Steve?” you yelled a little more than you asked. You closed your eyes for the briefest of moments and took in a deep inhale. When you opened your eyes, his were glued to you.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” he asked as he closed the large gap between the two of you.

“Ha, yeah, it’s me…” you answered, playing with your hair to give your hands something to do. “Uh, hi.” you smiled shyly up at him and suddenly you were both back in high school.

“Hey! Hi. Uh, you are Y/N, right?” Steve asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

“Yeah… do you need something?” you asked. That would be the only obvious reason Steve Harrington would ever talk to you. Maybe he needed notes from a class or something.

“Actually yes,” he said smiling, “I am in desperate need of your number.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock, but you nodded, knowing words were not going to help you at the moment. You grabbed a pen from your bookbag and quickly wrote down your phone number on his hand, double-checking it to make sure you wrote it down correctly in your fuzzy state.

You hadn’t noticed then, but Steve blushed at the contact of your hands and he swore he had fallen in love with you right then and there.

Steve wrapped his arms around you in a soul-crushing hug that you wished could have lasted forever. Much to your disdain, you were the one to pull back, looking over him all sweaty and still pumped from playing with his band. When your eyes met his, you realized he had been staring too.

“Do you want to get some food once I am done here?” he asked, running his hands through his hair quickly.

You nodded, “I can wait over there?” you said pointing to a few benches, “Take your time, I don’t mind.”

Steve pulled you into another hug before you walked over and sat down.

You watched him interact with fans, and couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies anytime he looked at you. You busied yourself staring at your hands and picking carefully at your nails, an anxious habit you had. You smoothed out the black, denim mini skirt you were wearing a few times and retucked your t-shirt until you were satisfied with how it looked and cleaned your glasses. Finding anything to help keep your nerves down.

Finally, you felt a hand on your knee and looked over to find Steve kneeling in front of you, smiling up at you, just like he would in high school.

“You ready?” he asked, offering his hand to help you up.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up before answering, “Hell yes I am ready.”

You both decided it would be best if you drove since the vehicle Steve had access to was the band’s tour van. So there you were, driving down the street to your favorite diner. It was still hard to think straight, him being so close to you, but you managed to drive safely in your dad’s old VW Bug. Once the car was parked and you were both out of the car, instinct took over and you grabbed his hand, leading him inside to your favorite booth near the kitchen.

After you had both sat there awkwardly staring at the menu for far too long and the food got there, the conversation started flowing freely. You guys talked about what you’ve been up to, college for you, the band for him. How your families were, how you handled the death of your father. You found out that Steve had gotten a dog, which had been his dream since he was younger, but never could because his parents weren’t around long enough for him to ever bring it up.

“Okay, Steve… I have to ask. What happened?” Your eyebrows drew up, worried about the answer you may get. “I mean… What happened to us? Did you not love me anymore? Was there someone else? I have just been so confused all these years. I haven’t been able to get over you because you never gave me closure.”

Steve thought long and hard before answering and stared long and hard at the mostly eaten burger in front of him. Steve looked like he was going to open his mouth, but stopped for a moment. Instead, he looked you in the eyes before reaching to grab your hand. Something that had always been comforting to you.

“After we graduated, I seriously felt like there was nothing we couldn’t do. That it would always just be me and you and we could take on the world. Then, my parents were home for a while if you remember. They had seemed like they were closer than ever, and I was so happy. I had my parents and I had you and we were no longer stuck in high school. Then, I watched as my parent’s marriage fell apart… and it shook me. It really should not have been a surprise, they generally acted like things were wonderful and they were happy before shit hit the fan. But this shit was permanent. They announced their impending divorce and that I should look at moving into my own place. I just… I couldn’t handle it. I mean, we had been looking at places to move into together, but this made me feel like I was being kicked out of my family. That my family didn’t really exist anymore.” Steve took his hand back for a moment and ran them through his hair a couple of times.

“Y/N, I felt like I had nothing. I know I had you, but the only way I knew how to cope with things was to push everything and everyone as far away as possible. I have regretted not saying goodbye to you every single day since and it has torn me apart. I so wish I could have explained everything to you, and maybe things wouldn’t be the way they are now.” Again he looked at you intensely, but his eyes were soft, before continuing.

“If you need to get over me, I understand. I was so, so selfish 7 years ago. But I also need you to know that I am still in love with you. Seeing you today, it was almost like the lights had come back on. I have been living in the darkness I didn’t know about until today and I will be damned if I don’t say something. Just… please think about it? I know so much time has passed and we are probably so different than we were, but I would be so honored to get to know you again.”

It looked as if tears were welling up in his eyes that he was willing to not spill over.

“Steve, you really hurt me. I need you to understand that one day we were attached at the hip and just, so enthralled with each other, and the next, you were gone. It was almost like you had died in the middle of the night. If you were to leave me again like that, I honestly think it would break me into pieces that could not be mended.”

You took a deep breath, soaking in everything, including the way your eyes began to fill with tears and even let them spill over onto your cheeks, finally getting the relief you have needed for so long. You dabbed at your face with a napkin and looked back up at Steve, who sat there utterly heartbroken at seeing the hurt spill out from you.

After another deep breath, you finished your thoughts.

“I would love to get to know you again too, Steve Harrington.”

[icecream-and-gadreel]

FMK Ch. 1: Dean, Sam, Castiel (NSFW)

Series Summary: The trickster is known for his cruel, oftentimes deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: You close in on the Trickster's hiding place, but soon fall prey to one of his pranks.

Pairing: Readerxvarious

Other characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Charlie, Bobby, Gabriel

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warning: Due to the nature of the series, everything has dubious consent! Language, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), violence, implied death, hallucinations

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom​ @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

A/N: Boy. I honestly don't know how to prepare you for this. So...enjoy pals!

Masterlist

The trickster bites into a nougat filled chocolate bar, watching as you all surround him. Dean and Sam on either side of him, you and Castiel in front. The room is murky grey, with flickering fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. As far as you can tell, the warehouse goes on and on farther than you can see. It was only seconds after entering the building that you knew exactly what you were dealing with.

“This ends, now,” Sam growls, gripping the blood-drenched stake in hand. The trickster stares around with an exaggerated gasp, pretending to shiver. Castiel narrows his eyes, gaze trained on the trickster.

“Aw, look! You got my boots shaking!” the trickster cooes, holding a shaking hand up to his mouth. When nobody laughs, he rolls his eyes, taking another generous bite out of his candy bar. “You guys are no fun~”

“How are you still alive?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug in response.

“Dean, something isn't right,” Castiel says, staring around the room. As you turn to ask him what's wrong, the angel is gone.

“Cas?” you whisper, pausing when you notice that the trickster is looking at you.

“Why haven't I seen you around?” he asks, gesturing to the Winchester's. “I'm used to the tall, dark, and brooding ones, but who are you?”

“Unimportant,” you respond, trying to keep a brave face. Though he doesn't seem the serious type, he has an unmistakable air about him, more powerful than you could have ever imagined. “We can't let you keep killing people.”

The trickster stares at the men, ignoring your words. Turning his eyes back to you, he gestures around the room. “Fuck, marry, kill. Dean, Sam, or me?” he asks.

“Let's start with kill,” you grunt, raising your gun to him. The trickster tssks you, resting a hand on his hip.

“Come on, easy question,” he says, a frown going over his face as the Winchester's rush toward him. With a snap of his fingers, the other men are gone, leaving just you.

Shit.

He closes in on you, and you take cautious steps away from him, trying to will yourself to shoot him. “I like you, new girl, I really do.”

“Stay away –” You cut yourself off when he disappears, eyes shifting around the room in panic. It seems smaller now. There aren't any windows, and the door you entered through disappeared. “Sam?” you call, your voice echoing off the walls. “Dean? Casti...el...” your voice trails away as your eyes land on a sparkly pink notebook and a sharpie laying in the middle of the room. Crouching down, you flip it open, your face sinking. The page is covered in hearts and cutesy doodles. But what catches your eye is the big, blocky letters written smack dab in the middle.

FUCK MARRY KILL: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

You toss the notebook away, shaking your head and staring up at the ceiling. “No, fuck you! Let me out of here!” you hiss. No response. “I won't play!” you scream. Again, nothing. You clench your jaw, the looming realization that you're at his mercy setting in. “God damn it...” Reluctantly, you plop down on the ground, staring at the page once more. “God fucking damn it...” you mumble, ticking off your choices. You flinch at the sound of girlish giggles and squeals filling the room, searching for the source of the noise. The notebook disappears from your hands with a puff of glitter, and the lights above you flicker. Your body feels heavy, like it's sinking into the ground beneath you. Closing your eyes, you allow your body to fall back, expecting to feel hard concrete beneath you. Instead, you feel something plush.

__

Warmth.

Hands grabbing at you greedily.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up with the moment, but when you do, you press a harsh kiss against your lover's lips, hands lacing through his hair as he grinds against you. You both roll around on the bed, biting and sucking at each other's lips, your legs wrapped around his waist. When he pulls out of the kiss, you bat open your eyes, a breath escaping you. 

Sam's face is flushed red, his pouty lips swollen and wet.

“Sammy...” you breathe, tightening your legs around him. He responds with a coy smile, trailing harsh, sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking your skin as he palms at your breasts.

“Take these off,” he whispers, yanking at your shorts. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. He continues trailing kisses down your body, leaving bites and hickies in his wake. Pulling your panties to the side, Sam nuzzles against your sex, a moan escaping his lips. He drags his tongue along your slit, slurping away your juices as he grips his fingers in your thighs. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You bite your lip, resting your hand on his head and rolling your hips. God, he's gifted. It almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are. He pulls your clit between his lips, gently suckling. “Fuck,” you moan, voice fluttering. You lace your fingers through his hair, back arching as pleasure courses through you. His tongue pushes deep between your folds, lapping and sucking your tender flesh before plunging inside of you. Sam reaches a hand to your breast, teasing at your nipple with gentle pinches and tugs. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as your orgasm takes over. He laps at your sex as you ride your release, keeping you grounded underneath his embrace. Sam raises up on his knees and plunges his fingers deep inside you, eyes never breaking from yours.

“Fuck, I'm glad we're finally doing this,” he says, a breathless chuckle escaping him. You silently nod, grabbing his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. He lifts your legs over his shoulders as he lines up with your entrance. You moan his name, closing your eyes as he eases into you, his thick cock stretching you more than you could have ever imagined. Sam grips your arms as he begins his rhythmic thrusting, holding you firm in your place. His eyes roll back as he's enveloped in your warmth, his hips slamming into you quicker. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, zips of electricity running up your spine.

“Oh my god, Sam!” you scream.

--

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes snap open, and you let out a puff of air, staring at yourself in the mirror. You reach your hands to touch the silver crown on your head, fingers ghosting along the flowing, white veil. Sam, with a furrowed brow, adjusts his tie in the mirror. 

“Look, I didn't mean anything bad was gonna happen,” Sam says, giving you a reassuring nod.

“...Huh?” you whisper, gaining a chuckle from him.

“You know, we got everything warded off,” he begins, giving your shoulder a rough pat. “And I'm pretty sure everyone here is strapped,” he adds, whirling around to the door as it flies open. “No, you can't see the bride until it's time!” Sam says, chasing off whoever just opened the door.

The bride.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, heart pounding in your chest. Today's the day and it feels like you didn't even know. God, why are you having cold feet right now of all times? He's the love of your life! You stare down at your beautiful, puffy dress, eyes landing on the sparkling ring on your finger. There's no telling where he got it from, but it's beautiful. A knock comes at the door, and you stand to your feet, smoothing your hands down your dress.

“Y-Yeah?” you yell, smiling as Charlie pokes her head into the room.

“We're ready for you – wow, look at her!” she cooes, a cheek to cheek grin on her face. Taking a deep breath, you snatch your bouquet up, allowing her to usher you to the wedding hall. You can hear the organ playing in the distance. Charlie says something to you, but your mind is a million miles away. Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs are beginning to wobble. Oh god. Why is this so scary? You turn the corner, being met with familiar faces standing in the pews, there eyes on you. Most are adorned in jeans and flannels, and just as Sam said, lots of them are carrying guns. You spot a few people sprawling out sigils on the walls, but they stop when you begin your descent down the aisle. Your groom is facing away from you, just as tradition calls for.

“Lookin' like a doll,” Bobby whispers to you as you pass, his hands wrapped tightly around his shotgun. You giggle, smiling when you see Sam waving at you from the line of groomsmen. You pause before your soon to be husband, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, he turns to you, a smile immediately breaking across his face.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean grunts, gaining whoops and hollers from his groomsmen. You playfully smack him on the arm, grabbing his hand in yours. His green eyes shift wildly, a permanent smile glued to his face. The priest begins, but all you can focus on his Dean. He looks starstruck, like he's never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

“I do,” Dean breathes, tears prickling at his eyes. Seeing this makes your eyes gloss over, and when the priest asks you the same question, you can barely choke out 'I do'.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, closing his bible. Dean grabs you by the waist, dipping you down and pulling you into a passionate kiss. You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let's get to that honeymoon suite,” Dean whispers, shooting you a wink. You both run down the aisle hand in hand, waving at the sea of family and friends applauding you.

As you push through the door, the world goes dark. You turn to look at the church, but nothing is there, save for a fence and two brick walls.  

--

The alley is dark and groggy, with trash bags piled up on either side of you. 

Who's hand were you holding? You look down at the angel blade you're gripping, cocking an eyebrow. Of course. It ends here. You swagger deeper into the alley, your face falling into a frown as Castiel crawls away from you on hands and knees. His hand buckles underneath him, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The red exit sign on the wall is the only source of illumination, but you can clearly see the battered and bruised angel look at you. He wears a defiant scowl, an unsuccessful attempt at bravery.

“Times up Castiel,” you say, the venom in your voice catching you off guard. He...deserves this, as far as you can remember. You lace your fingers through his hair, forcing him up as you raise the blade above your head.

–

You stare up at the ceiling, your heart racing.

What. The. Hell.

As you lean up, your eyes train on that god damn sparkly notebook again.

Right. The trickster. It all felt so real, as if each and everything that happened was always like that. You shake away the thoughts, snatching up the notebook and staring around the room.

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, staring down at the new set of names.

FUCK MARRY KILL: John Winchester, Gadreel, Cain

[dirt-cup-draco]

Severus Snape x Reader- Starstruck

I couldn't find your who you write for but if you write for Snape could you do a Snap and reader (adult) where maybe the death eaters are attacking her/torturing or injure her after they find her snooping for the order and he has to step in and be like leave her alone, she's with me or is my girlfriend to save her life but they're not dating or anything before but crush on eachother then they have to fakebeing a couple in front of the other death eaters/voldemort. If not don't worry!

A/N: I definitely need to make a list of who I write for, so my apologies! But I’ll put one together soon! Maybe even before I post this ;) I also maybe tweaked this a bit but I think i kept the spirit of your ask

Your spine was bent uncomfortably as you curled up into a tight ball. The grime that had collected at the bottom of the bathtub was grainy and scraped against your jeans every time you shifted. With bated breath you watched as the wind from the broken wind brushed against the torn shower curtain that you hoped concealed your body. 

You felt your end coming. You had been hiding in this abandoned home for weeks now, ever since your double cross was uncovered. Antonin Dolohov had been the first to suspect you, his eyes always watching. It took everything in you since following the Order’s instructions to not slap that permanently smug look off his face. Molly Weasley was a good friend of yours and you had known the agony that her brothers’ deaths had caused her. 

It didn’t take more than him to whisper words of betrayal to his fellow death eaters until you were being investigated, every inch of your life examined. You were found guilty and they felt they had the power to hand out justice. You’d been lucky to get away even if you had been a bug under Antonin’s foot. He took great pride in watching you squirm and cry and scream when he had tortured you, seeking information.

You hadn’t condemned the order, even as Antonin uttered the cruciatus curse.It had been Severus who had crept into the dark and rotting room underneath the Malfoy’s manor and set you free. He hadn’t spoken a word as he unbound you, moving around the room like a shadow. You’d run the second you’d gotten the chance.

You wouldn’t have a chance to thank him, you realized as heavy footsteps made their way up the dilapidated stairs. Every step was punctuated with a groan from the ancient home. Your heart was doing back flips in your chest and you were frightened that Fenrir led the group coming to kill you and would be able to hear the wild beat.   

You stuck your wand in front of you, hand shaking and betraying the stern look on your face. You weren’t ashamed to hide, it was a matter of survival, but you felt shame at the fear coursing through your veins. A month ago you would have charged from your spot, trying to take out as many death eaters you could before you were overwhelmed. Now, after experiencing just what they could do to a person who scorned them, you couldn’t help but feel frightened, weak even.

As soon as the door, that was only hanging by a single yet stubborn hinge, burst open you were silent and still. The figure paused in front of you, imposing and dark. You couldn’t make out their features, the moon only a sliver in the sky. It seemed the curtain in front of you hid you well enough that your fight instinct could kick in.

The curtains only downfall was that you couldn’t aim properly, your body binding curse breaking against the wall. Suddenly, a hand was at your throat for only a second, a familiar voice seething at you, “I’d watch it if I were you, Y/L/N,” 

Your chest nearly collapsed in relief, a choked oh, thank god it’s you rushing past your lips. You through your arms around Severus’ neck and he tensed even as his arms came around your waist, pulling you over the chipped rim of the bathtub that you thought would be your grave. 

“What are you doing here?” You whispered, still not trusting your surroundings. You had been nonverbal since you had escaped, laying low. Your voice caught, your body still on overdrive from the adrenaline you had just experienced. 

Severus lowered his voice and his arms, dropping you back onto your own two feet as you tried to get rid of the shake in your knees. “The order sent me,” Your heart thumped for another reason other than fear. They cared. You had worried that you were to be left to the wolves after being found out, your use as a double agent vanishing even as the dark mark stained your skin. “They aren’t far behind, I suggest we make haste,” 

You nodded, being the first out of the crumbling home. “You don’t need to tell me twice,” 

Severus’ eyes scanned the open field before you, trying to make out any sign that you weren’t alone. Inky wisps blew through the wind, swirling as they began to materialize. Without a second’s thought, Severus had you pulled against his chest, his wand shoved uncomfortably against the junction between your neck and jaw. 

“Pettigrew, Yaxley,” Severus greeted, his tone neutral. “You’re late.” 

You tried to calm your breathing but you found yourself without comfort as Severus tightened his grip to nearly painful, keeping your hands glued to your sides. You knew he was trying to help but your skin was alight with anxiety and you wanted nothing more than to kill the men where they stood. 

“Funny ‘ow you always gettin’ the drop on us,” Yaxley observed with a sneer but his bravado quickly faded as you felt Severus’ chest rumble with a threatening growl. 

“You may not understand being competent but do not think to question my loyalties,” 

“W-we’ve just come for the girl,” Peter sniveled, head lowered and feet shuffling. “Master’s wishes,” 

“Master’s wishes or Antonin pretending to speak for our Master? I know how he hates losing his playthings,” Severus observed and you couldn’t fight the chill that ran down your spine. “Do not assume that his vices are aligned with what the Dark Lord wants. Our Master would never put man power into catching this weakling,” You stomped on Severus’ foot in retaliation even if you knew it was all an act. 

“Then why’re you ‘ere?” Yaxley questioned, eyes narrowed. 

“Seeing as she’s mine, I’ve come to show her the consequences of her actions personally. I don’t wish to have an audience, gentleman,” Your breath caught in your throat. Mine, he called me mine. Despite the situation you couldn’t help but feel like you’d obtained some sort of prize. It wasn’t a secret that you had been mad for Severus all through school and into adulthood, never reaching him, feelings unrequited. 

“That traitor is your woman?” Peter squeaked and Severus grimaced, his chin pressed to your temple as he pretended to feel disgust. 

“Unfortunately,” Severus droned. “But after tonight, she will be but blood on my hands,”

Yaxley grinned, a low chuckle reverberating through the electrified air as you squirmed against Severus, uncomfortable. “Good man,” Yaxley encouraged and your stomach churned. “Pettigrew,” He barked. “We’re leavin’, tell Antonin we found ‘er dead, burned the body,” 

Pettigrew looked at Severus for approval and seemed to have found it, trusting the man with the hostage would do as he said. “I’ll send word when the deed is done,” 

Without another word spoken they had vanished, the only sign they’d been there in the first place was your clammy hands and lack of breath. You struggled against Severus but he crushed you against him. “Not yet,” He breathed against your ear.

Wand still posed against your neck he dragged you back to the abandoned house. Only when you were safe inside, having cast a protective charm on the place, did he release you. Spinning on your heel you brought your palm up to his cheek swiftly, the sound of you smacking him ringing out against the silent night. “That was for acting like a pig,” You sniffled, pride wounded. 

And then, you grabbed the front of his robes, lips slanting against his, all teeth and tongue. His hands stalled just above your hips, unsure of what to do next. “And that, was for saving my life,” You panted. 

Too concerned with your safe arrival it went unnoticed by all in the order, including yourself, that for the first time since he was a schoolboy, Severus Snape was a little bit flustered, and a whole lot starstruck. 

[moonstruckbucky]

Royal Holiday (2/6)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is bored - trust him, he knows how that sounds. But being royalty, in his humble opinion, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Time to mix it up a bit.

Pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, modern AU

Warnings: None - just dumb fluff.

Notes: Like everything else, I’m sorry for the wait on this. Enjoy x

If you like my work buy me a Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Bucky’s unashamed to admit that the woman in front of the flower shop has been a permanent resident inside his mind. That expression of hope ringed in sadness on her face, paired with the subtle beauty she possessed has been stuck in his mind’s eye, even a week later. He’s already addicted and he doesn’t even know her name.

He doesn’t know the name of the flower shop, either. He’d been so enchanted by her, so preoccupied with who is she that he’d completely forgotten to get the name of the flower shop. He feels like an idiot, curses himself both internally and verbally, amusing the absolute shit out of Sam.

He’s never seen Bucky so torn up over a woman for more than a night, much less one he hasn’t even talked to yet. He actually feels bad every time Bucky requests to return to the city and Sam has to say no - “a meeting with your father”, “a suit fitting for the gala”, a number of other things that chip away at Bucky’s patience - and by association, Sam’s.

So he relents the next time Bucky has an opportunity to escape. He’d managed to fool his mother - something about a custom suit from a top designer in the city - and takes a car the first chance he sees. Or rather, Sam does, and he listens grudgingly as Bucky talks to himself.

“Was it...here? Or...or down 5th?” he mutters in the passenger seat, nose pressed to the glass like he’s out of some kids’ cartoon.

Sam rolls his eyes, taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light. Bucky, meanwhile, analyzes every building face they pass, eyebrows drawn downwards in concentration as he tries, gives himself a headache, to remember. He remembers the colors of the building - white brick and faded, green-grey paint befitting of a florist shop. One of the letters is crooked, tilted downwards like a nail’s come loose.

And then… he sees it, yelps out loud and points out the window. Unfortunately it’s just after Sam’s pressed the gas to move into the intersection. Bucky’s head bounces off the window as Sam slams on the brakes, spurring a chorus of angry car horns around them, harmonized with cursing and yelling.

Before Sam can yell at him for nearly getting them killed, Bucky’s stumbling out of the car, tripping over the seatbelt in his haste to make it to the curb. Growling under his breath, Sam eases down on the gas, waves apologetically to the cars around him and loops around to find a place to park.

Bucky pushes through people, offers half-assed apologies as his vision seems to tunnel, the flower shop the focus. Everything else blurs, becomes a white noise haze as he steps up to the door. Knob ice-cold in his bare palm,

and it’s locked.

Stomach plummeting, Bucky feels the hope leave his chest in a painful flurry. So tangible he actually winces. Tries the knob again and he feels that same aching pang - is that his heart?

He pitches forward, winces at the frigid glass on his skin. Taps his head once, twice, three times lightly against it because that’s just his luck isn’t it? He doesn’t even realize he’s muttering under his breath until Sam snorts behind him.

“They went to lunch, drama queen,” he teases. Confusion, an eye roll from his friend and a gesture at the window where a sign reads “back in an hour” in messy, feminine scrawl.

Another flutter, only this one is hope - taking off like a dove at a wedding. He elects to wait, declines when Sam offers to get him something from a bistro down the block. He leans against the wall beside the door, scrolling through his emails, barely sparing them a glance - he just wants the notification to go away. He waits, belly all quivering with nervous anticipation. After fifteen minutes, he lowers himself to the ground, knees tucked up so he doesn’t trip anyone.

Will she even show up to this shop? Or was it just a coincidence that she’d passed it in the first place? Is he just wasting his time on a girl he, realistically, might not see again? Doubt clouds his mind but he pushes it down, refuses to be at least a little rational. After all, the expression on her face as she gazed at the shop seemed far too coincidental that she’d just been passing by. There’s a correlation there, and he’s determined to find out what.

“Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry! I hope you weren’t waiting too long!”

A voice, sweet like honey, disrupts his thoughts, and as he looks up, he feels the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh. It’s her, the woman he’d seen before, her face flushed from the chill and a sincerely apologetic look. He thinks he’s in love already.

It takes him a few awkward moments for his tongue to reconnect to his brain, and then he clambers to his feet, nearly bowls her over in the process.

“Uh, um, n-no, I wasn’t waiting all that long!” he assures, feeling the heat creeping up his neck because her eyes are so big and sparkling in the sunshine. Then she smiles, and oh boy, is he in trouble.

“You don’t have to lie,” she teases lightly, sidestepping him with a key in her hand to unlock the door. “Are you looking for something in particular or are you just browsing?”

The shop is warm, filled with the aroma of fresh flowers - roses and hydrangea and gerbera daisies, pine and balsam and winterberry. It’s blossoming Christmas in the shop, fairy lights strung up everywhere and the fluorescent lights dimmed low - not too low that he can’t see the product, but just enough.

He gets so caught up in looking around he forgets she asked him a question. She’s shucked off her coat, looking pretty in an emerald green sweater that’s rolled at her wrists. She’s watching him, head tilted curiously and eyes bright. He shakes himself, gives her a smile that probably looks as shaky as it feels.

“Uh, well, I, uh, just thought I’d pick something up for my mother.” Barnes, you genius. He grins suddenly, rolling with the idea. “Yeah, something festive, you know? She loves flowers.”

She smirks and leans on the counter. “What’s her favorite?”

Bucky’s mind blanks, and he knows she knows he’s fibbing. He glances to his left, sees a large, bright red flower, wide open like a lion’s mane on a tall, green stem. He points.

“These.”

“Ah, amaryllis,” she says, sashaying around the counter. “A favorite around the holidays. I think I have some potted, if your mother would like to grow one of her own - they last longer.”

“Sure,” he agrees readily. He’s pretty sure she could ask him to walk on the Sun and he’d do it. She smiles that pretty smile again and turns away from him to fetch the potted amaryllis.

Even puts some pretty foil on the pot it comes in and drops it into a plastic sleeve to protect it from the cold. She does it all seamlessly, hands familiar with the task, and she rings him up. He pays her with a fifty, tells her to keep the $25.01 in change. Something akin to gratitude flashes in her eyes at that, but it’s gone when he blinks.

Awkward silence stretches - she taps her fingers, tries not to stare at him because why is he still here - and he searches his brain for any possible reason to linger a little longer. But he comes up empty, and all he can do is stare, looking stupid with that amaryllis in his hands and a far-off look in his eye. And then Sam - dear old Sam who he could throttle when they get outside - sidles up beside him and flashes her a charming grin that’s brilliant white against his dark skin.

“Afternoon, miss,” he greets, and Bucky thinks he feels his teeth crack. “What a beautiful shop! Are you the owner?”

To her credit, she seems to catch onto his game and smirks, cocks a hip as she leans against the counter. “Why, yes I am.”

And she introduces herself, just like that. Accepts the gloved hand Sam puts out, and Bucky feels the tips of his ears heat. How is it so easy for Sam when Bucky’s been practically rendered speechless?

This never happens, he thinks, especially not with women. But she’s...different. He isn’t sure how but she is, and she’s taken his tongue and glued it to the roof of his mouth.

Sam nudges him roughly, gives him an expectant look that screams get your shit together.

“This is my friend, Bucky,” he says when Bucky still can’t bring himself to speak. “He’s...shy.”

Another smirk and a slow appraising look up and down. He feels all too exposed under her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you, Bucky.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he squeaks. Clears his throat right after as beside him, Sam snorts.

She giggles cutely, and Bucky’s mouth lifts on its own accord - finally, some brain activity. A long moment of silence, of eyes connecting and holding, until Sam coughs and both she and Bucky seem to jump at the sound - like they’d forgotten he was there.

“Well, we’d better get that back to your, uh, mother,” Sam urges with a pointed look.

Right - “appointment” with a tailor.

Sam has to tug him out the door - backwards, because he just can’t stop smiling at her. He’s spoken less than twenty words and he’s pretty sure he’s half in love with her already. She waves, a little wiggle of her fingers, before the door closes.

And Sam loses it.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he taunts, high-pitched and squeaky before dissolving into raucous laughter. He claps Bucky on the shoulder. “Oh man, I am absolutely never letting you live that down. Ever.”

Bucky thinks he can live with that.

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »17

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 3.6k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, some angsty themes, smut/unprotected sex (jisoo x jk sorry not sorry again), they’re both a mess and everything is a mess but dw they’ll figure some shit out soon enough. 

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​​ ♡♡♡

“Okay, something’s definitely up.”

Hoseok snorted, “Yeah, Jimin’s dick when he talks to that dud—“

The smaller boy harshly elbowed Hobi on his ribs, unfazed as the elder hunched over with a grunt.

“Guys, take this seriously.” Namjoon sighed, stretching alongside Hoseok and Jimin, looking over at Taehyung from a distance. The couple hadn’t shared a single word since this morning— much less a sappy glance!

Tae seemed like he’d been crying all night, eyes puffy from the tears shed onto his pillow.

“You think they ended things? I mean, they were— Oh, hey Jungkook!” Namjoon forced a strained smile, trying to appear lowkey about the situation.

“We were just talking about... Jisoo! Uhm, you still mad?”

Fucking hell, Joon couldn’t seem to give himself a break, can he? He’d once again cornered himself.

Jungkook was caught up in his own train of thoughts until Namjoon's voice broke him out of it, the sudden halt in his steps obvious to all. His eyes widened at the mention of Jisoo, and suddenly his eyes flickered between everybody until they landed on the floor, his long curls falling over his eyes,

''Uh,'' He shrugged lightly, ''She's fine.. Uh, she's good. Don't worry.'' There's no way he'd tell them what had happened last night... He looked up at Namjoon and gave him a lopsided smile, ''All forgiven.''

Namjoon wasn't sure what he expected, but surely it wasn't that response. He rubbed at his nape, nodding once, twice,

''Okay, great..? Ehh, alright-- let's begin!''

The other men groaned, they really wanted answers. But it was obvious that right now wasn't the time, maybe during breakfast? Would the boys sit next to each other?

Jungkook stayed close to the group as they began, his eyes finding Taehyung eventually-- and his chest felt like it was being stepped on. It was hard to breathe... So, he looked away, deciding he would ignore him. That was what Tae wanted after all. So, he shouldn't even feel guilty for what he did with Jisoo...

Kook clenched his jaw, shrugging his thoughts off, replacing them by focusing on practice with everything he's got, going hard until he was a breathing mess drenched in sweat.

~

Taehyung snuck outside during breakfast, perched high up on the bleachers. It was his only doable option for a spot if he didn’t want to be a part of Yerin’s circle..

‘You’re gay? We should totally gossip about guys!”

“Oh my gosh, I have these face masks.. amazing!”

They had the audacity to invite him over to a sleepover. A fucking sleepover!

Tae sighed in defeat, closing his eyes as he indulged himself in the morning’s cool breeze.

Now that he was more at ease, he went over his options once again.

If he sat with his friends, Jungkook would be there.

Sitting with Kai and Haechan was out of the question— obviously. They stared him down like he was some freak every time they passed him in the crowded hallways, succeeding at pointing him out from the rest.

That’s how Taehyung felt, like an elephant surrounded by wild birds. He felt stuck while everyone else had the option to fly away.

“Fucking sucks..” The boy groaned, trying to stay collected throughout all of this.

It was easier said than done.

~

“So.. Jungkook?” Jin mumbled through a mouthful of cereal, taking notice of the empty seat that was normally reserved for the younger’s boyfriend. “Where’s Taehyung? Is he a ghost or something..” Jin chuckled a bit at his own joke, slurping another spoonful whilst his curious eyes were trained on Kook.

Jungkook munched his sandwich, this time around he didn't feel like eating any sweets at all. The marshmallows would just taste... sour in his mouth at this point.

Jin's question had the younger glance over at the empty seat, replying with a shrug,

''I don't know.''

Jin stopped mid-slurp, eyes widening a bit at the nonchalant response from their youngest.

''You guys fight?'' Yoongi asked, blunt as always.

''Uh....Yeah.'' Jungkook took another bite off his sandwich to avoid speaking further.

''Why?'' Jin chimed in once more.

''I don't wanna talk about it right now, okay?'' the younger groaned, pushing himself off the table, ready to leave.

''hey, hey, wait-- you don't have to, we just worry, okay? You guys go on and off so much lately.'' Jimin raised his hand to try to get Kook to sit back down, for once looking up from his phone.

Jungkook shrugged once more. ''We're done. Don't worry about it.'' He left it at that, even if he just said he didn't wanna talk about it. He picked up his tray and left, a deep sigh pushing through his lips. He knew it was true-- but saying it out loud was... Harder than he thought.

He left the dining hall to go grab a banana milk from the vending machine, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor as he waited for it. When it finally dropped, he grabbed it and headed to sit outside of the building until the next class and sip on his drink, for once his eyes were glued on his phone. Jisoo had texted him a photo of herself and Yuna, the two girls bringing a smile to his lips.

Maybe it wasn't all that bad.

~~~

Jisoo waited patiently in her apartment, gaze occasionally switching between the tilted clock on her wall and the TV. It was an hour past the time school usually got dismissed.. Jungkook should be home, right?

The woman felt like such a creep, but her desire to see him was much stronger after last night’s events. She even went out of her way to buy condoms, if that didn’t scream ‘desperate for you to fuck me’ Jisoo didn’t know what did.

Even if they didn’t end up having sex, the woman would be perfectly fine with doing nothing. As long as she was next to Jungkook.

“You can do this, Jisoo..” She hyped herself up, grabbing the container of leftover soup.

The girl stopped in front of Jungkook’s door, knocking on it a few times.

Her heart was beating really fast, it was embarrassing..

~

Jungkook put his playstation controller aside as he heard the knock, getting up to saunter towards the door. Part of him already knew who it could be, and peeking through the small hole he was right. He fixed his hair up, well-- as far as good would go with his long curls, combing through the mess with his fingers a few times. He'd changed into comfy attire as he got home; a deadly combination of grey sweatpants and a fitted v-neck.

''Noona!'' A wide smile through closed teeth greeted Jisoo as he opened the door.

“Hi!” The woman saluted back, meeting his level of enthusiasm in her voice. Her face, however..

She took a double take at Jungkook’s outfit, jaw permanently going slack. He looked cozy enough to cuddle with, that’s it. Jisoo really shouldn’t make it this obvious..

“Uhm..” The flustered girl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to give you this.” She extended the container of last night’s soup out to him, figuring Jungkook would enjoy it more than her. It was a blessing that the younger praised her cooking, but Jisoo wasn’t too confident in her choppy skills.

“So, yeah.” The woman stuck around, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“Without Yuna home, I had the chance to do a lot more stuff.”

She breathed out, looking up at Kook to see if he got the shitty hint.

“I-I cleaned? Actually managed to set up the kitchen.. it was a productive day!— because Yuna’s at my sister’s place..”

Jisoo poked her tongue against the side of her cheek, stifling a little smile.

She was making it so obvious, wasn’t she? The woman failed to feel embarrassed, though. It was Jungkook she was talking to, he was like family..

Jungkook grabbed the container, his face lit up with excitement at the mere thought of food that wasn't microwaved instant noodles.

"Ahh you're the best noona...." he gave her a toothy grin, and it faltered as soon as she mentioned that the little child wouldn't be around for now-- he did miss her.

"Okay, well, do you want to... come inside? I have to put this in the fridge.." he cringed internally at his lame attempt at inviting her. "I don't think you've really seen my place much anyway-- it's not that impressive, but.."

With her hands tightly clasped in front of her, Jisoo willingly followed Jungkook inside.

The woman pivoted around in her spot, the background sound effects from the PlayStation making things less quiet.

“Woah, it almost looks like my apartment!” Jisoo laughed, studying her surroundings a bit more. The hole in the wall was a little hard to ignore, but she didn’t bring it up.

All was still too fresh, that was her best bet.

Jisoo met him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as she watched him put the container in the fridge. It made her happy that she was able to help out in any way..

“I missed you.” The older woman suddenly blurted out, “I mean.. you’re the only person I know here.”

Jungkook flashed her a smile as he closed the fridge. He almost blurted out 'what about namjoon'-- but that wouldve been really dumb...

"Yeah?" He crooked an eyebrow, stepping closer until he was practically towering over her small frame. He placed each hand on the counter adjacent to her body, tilting his head to the side with an innocent grin, "I missed you too~"

He couldn't help it, Jisoo drew out this side of him-- he became coy, her innocence was almost as alluring as his own. And since he's..well, a guy full of raging hormones, last night only made him feel needier.

His face inched closer to her flushed one, his breath sweet as he observed her features. She looked a little extra pretty today. Did she finally get enough sleep? Or did she put extra effort into her appearance before coming?

Jisoo’s brightly tinted lips curled inwards into a thin line.

Her eyes popped out from the subtle shade of brown temporarily etched onto her crease, as well as a natural reaction to Jungkook’s significantly broader body lingering extra close to hers.

She looked up at the younger man, feeling like a helpless ant in his presence.

He was easily gifted with the strength of hurting her without even trying. Just one flick of his fingers and Jisoo was done for! It was a little degrading that she had to be the one to strain her neck in order to meet his gaze, but maybe she liked the way he made her feel small..

The condom in the back pocket of her shorts pressed against her the more she leaned back against the edge of the counter, wanting to tease Jungkook by making him wait.

“You missed me?”

Jisoo bit down on her lip, stifling a blinding grin. Her eyes gave it away, however.

“I’m glad..”

Her soft hands traveled up to his chest, merely resting them there as she propped herself up on her tiptoes. The woman kissed him slowly, relishing in the intimate taste of banana milk and.. potato chips? Either way, Jisoo was a fan of the strange yet addicting combination.

Anything Jungkook had to offer was worth it.

Jungkook hummed in response, immediately feeling like his lips were melting against hers. They were so small-- everything about her seemed too delicate; another magnetic quality of hers.

"Yeah," he breathes out in a haste as their lips separated for a mere second before his hands finally found her waist to effortlessly lift her up on the counter, giving her an opportunity to meet his height. Kook positioned himself between her spread legs, one hand cupping her face to draw her in for another kiss as his other hand settled on her thigh, squeezing it softly between his fingers.

She yelped in initial shock, nearly tipping over the small vase of dorky flowers from behind her.

Jisoo hungrily dug in for seconds, fingers weaving through his long locks. Her milky thighs closed in on Jungkook’s torso, apparent goosebumps marring the silky skin.

The woman pulled away to snag her lost breaths, hands carefully cradling Kook’s face.

Jisoo shifted around a bit, deepening their clouded gazes.

“What is it that you’re thinking of right now..”

Jungkook caught a quick glance at the vase, the flashback from when Taehyung had given him those flowers replayed in his mind for a split second, causing him to freeze. But just as quickly -- Jisoos question brings him back to the present. He stares into her needy eyes, and he allows himself to simply drown in them, clouding his memories just enough for the initial sting in his chest to go away.

Jisoo was here with him... she's never hurt him. She cares. She wants him.

But does he truly want her?

Maybe he does. And maybe was enough for him right now.

"I'm thinking.... that I want you." It wasn't a lie. But he wouldn't tell her about his swirl of thoughts previous to the need he now indulges in. He needed to desperately forget about Tae.. Kook grasped her hips, hard, and pressed his hips up against her core, the already growing bulge prominent fighting the restraints of fabrics. "Feel that, noona?"

“M-mhm..!” Jisoo nodded with a brisk inhale, surprised at how hard he was.

“I want you, too..” She whined from the close proximity, “All of you.”

Closing her eyes, the woman softly gyrated her hips against his rock hard bulge— impatient to get the private show started.

“Hngh..” The corner of her lips twitched, shamelessly rubbing up on him faster than before, harshly bucking her heated core into Jungkook’s fat cock. A strained moan left her parted lips, lustful eyes fluttering open once again— yet not fully, her gaze was dimmed with want. It was as if she had something lingering on the tip of her tongue.

“Call me Jisoo..” The said woman curtly left it at that, loving the way her name dripped from his mouth.

"Jisoo..." He let her name roll off his tongue, his tone lowering several octaves at her desperation for him. He loved being wanted like this. He decided to swiftly lift her once more, arms tightly wrapped around her, hands grasping her ass to keep her pressed against his body as he headed towards his bed. At first, he'd glanced at the couch-- but that was too stained with memories...

He gently placed her on her back on top of the soft duvet, her legs dangling off the edge & his eyes blown wide with awe at the sight beneath him. Wasting no time, he curls his fingers around her waistband to tug it down-- eager to once more see what he'd gotten a taste of last time.

She stared up at the swirling ceiling with obvious suspense, biting down on her lip as she awaited Jungkook’s next move. The man was so unpredictable, yet not.

Jisoo would be one hell of a liar if she said it wasn’t the least bit nerve wracking. Despite what everyone else might think, she wasn’t the most confident in her body. One of her hands rested atop her stomach, scared that Kook possessed the freaky power to make out the faint stretch marks through the fabric of her shirt. The woman’s soppy cunt clenched around nothingness, excited for Jungkook’s touch.

Jungkook peeled the fabrics down and threw them on the floor, dropping to his knees by the foot of the bed between her legs, hands pulling her further down closer to his face. He takes a good look, curiosity and arousal evident in his gaze. He's a little nervous, honestly. He's never done this before-- but man, would he try his best. He always wants to do well, whatever it is.

''Gonna taste you, okay?'' He gives Jisoo a heads up, but doesn't wait to actually get a reply before he inches closer, a flattened tongue licking one long, slow lick along her slit.

Her spine promptly arched up from the duvet, the perky nipples on her soft chest straightforwardly pointed up towards the ceiling. The hand that once rested on her stomach now gripped a handful of Jungkook’s hair, hips jittering as the latter gifted her pussy the slightest bit of attention. Still, it was more than enough for someone as sensitive as Jisoo.

Namjoon didn’t take his sweet time with her.. maybe that’s why she was enjoying Jungkook much more.

A low groan emitted from Kook’s throat at the sweet taste, nothing like anything he's ever had on his tongue. Different, for sure. He wasn't sure exactly how he liked it, but it wasn't...terrible.

He started to feel more confident by the reactions he managed to draw from her, allowing his tongue to explore her folds, spreading them with his thumbs. The glistening juices seeped out for him-- it was incredibly alluring.

''So sweet..'' He murmured into her cunt before lapping at her juices, growing greedy for more of her sounds. As he went on, continuously and slowly licking at her pussy, he found her swollen clit; giving it a gentle suck as he used one finger to tease at her hole.

Her frail body squirmed under his brazen administrations.

Jisoo’s other hand grasped onto a handful of the sheets whilst her spread legs quivered, Jungkook’s long curls occasionally grazing against her inner thigh.

“O-oh god...” The woman threw her head back with a pitiful whimper, losing the common ability to string together coherent sentences. She was too caught up under Jungkook’s spell— more specifically the way the man’s dexterous tongue worked on her smooth folds, cleaning Jisoo up only for her to wet his nose and lips even more. Her rosy cunt was a watergate. She liked giving the younger man something to look forward to..

Jungkook groaned quietly when she gently tugged at his long curls, the way her body tensed up and relaxed under his ministrations only spurred him on to want to do more, to make her feel good. His long, calloused finger sunk into her soppy hole, some of her juices leaking down to his knuckles. The younger's mouth never stopped working her clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and gentle sucks. He felt her cunt throb around his finger, deciding to add a second digit to fill her up further as his other hand reached down to unzip his pants and pull his own length out to jerk himself off.

''Jisoo..'' he pulled back momentarily, placing chaste needy kisses on her lower lips, ''Want you to taste me too...please?''

Jisoo was fucked— completely and utterly stuffed with the overwhelming sensations bursting from within her, causing her to jolt in her own skin. For a supposedly gay man, Jungkook was doing one hell of a satisfying craft. He knew where her sweet spots hid, how to drive her over the edge just enough for Jisoo to incoherently beg for more, her soaked cunt squeezing onto his thick, nimble fingers.

The younger man was.. everything.

His unpredictable skills in the bedroom only added to her intense infatuation.

At the hot, raspy sound of her name, Jisoo detached the back of her head from the mattress.

Her skin was a crimson color as she lustfully gazed down at him; Kook’s chin and nose were smothered in her juices. And despite the circumstances, he mirrored a perfect painting.

The woman slowly sat up on the duvet, biting down on her lip at the enticing sight of Jungkook’s large cock.

“You’re already leaking..” She cooed to herself, hands sensually running up his muscular thighs, dipping at his noticeable V-line.

Jisoo sat up, only to kneel down in front of Jungkook.

“Jisoo noona is going to make you feel good, okay?”Her smaller fingers wrapped around the girthy base, giving the rigid skin a teasing squeeze. “Jungkookie, you’re so big..”

She pressed an open mouthed kiss onto the reddened tip, deliciously staining her lips with the man’s precum. “I don’t know how it’s going to fit..” A string of glistening liquid ran down her inner thighs. With one last look at his face, Jisoo’s warm mouth engulfed the mushroom tip, slowly sinking down onto the remaining inches.

His eyes quiver at the switch in her demeanor, his aching length already twitching in her mouth with every graze of her nails on his thighs-- aside from the obvious tongue that was teasing the underside of his cock while she sunk down on him. Now this sensation was something he was more familiar with..

"Shit..." he hissed out in no direction in particular, eyes widening at how well she took his cock, "S-slower...." he stuttered out, jaw clenched. He knew he wouldn't even be able to hold himself from cumming if Jisoo went too fast.

With a vague hum, she paced herself like he’d demanded her to do. Jisoo hollowed out her cheeks whilst she hungrily swamped the remaining inches into her tight mouth, tongue skillfully lapping over the gritty, yet smooth foreskin. She immersed herself in her work, the tip of Jungkook’s cock effortlessly prodding at the back of her throat. Jisoo’s nails clung on deeper to the protruding muscles, bobbing her head to a continuous beat as she desperately fought the tears stinging at her clenched eyes, the soreness in her jaw not a main factor as she continued to suck him off. All Jisoo could think about was having his cock in her, stretching out her cunt instead of her mouth.

Jungkook allowed himself to indulge in this feeling for a short while, but as his greed is begging for more, his hands gently moved the fallen strands of her hair away from her face. He places a palm on her cheek, urging her to stop.

"I want..." his voice was breathy and needy, cock still twitching in her mouth at his own words, "I want to fuck you…?" Maybe it sounded like a begging, or maybe he was asking himself; did he want to? He was pretty sure. His entire being was clouded with lust, all he wanted was to find out just how Jisoo’s cunt felt.

When she pulled off his cock with a pop, he did not spare a moment to reposition them both, jisoo on her back and himself on top, legs spread wide for her. He finally got rid of the remaining strains of his clothes, fully exposed to his noona.

"Jisoo." the way her name rolled off his tongue was like a plea and a question, hands placed behind her thighs to spread her further. He gazes down at her, as if waiting for her to tell him to continue.

She lastly discarded her flimsy shirt— not without hesitation. One hand tightly squeezed at her own breast, causing her nipple to jut out in between her delicate fingers.

Jisoo moaned, the way her name slipped past Jungkook’s lips had her weak.

The woman felt the cool air graze against her bare, rosy pussy, her wet folds parting further the more Jungkook spread her pale legs. She felt extremely exposed, yet not exposed enough.. Jisoo’s dimmed eyes traveled downwards to the ground, remembering about the spare condom in the back pockets of her forgotten shorts. She debated if it was even worth it.

The woman gulped.

Of course it was.. this is how she ended up pregnant in the first place. However, Jungkook was much more mature than her ex.. Surely he’d try to be careful, right?

She desperately wanted to give him the raw, tender experience.

With a shaky exhale, Jisoo nodded softly.

“Just don’t cum in me. I won’t be able to afford to take care of your baby..” She jokingly teased in the midst of the situation, although a small part of her was serious.

Jungkook's wide eyes quickly softened at the joke, leaning down to hover over her body and place a kiss on her nose.

''Okay.'' He whispered, moving down to kiss her on the lips in reassurance, one elbow placed next to her head to keep himself steady as the other reached down to guide the tip of his length to her hole. Slowly, he advanced his hips forward to let it sink in-- even with the wetness and preparation, it was a snug fit. Jungkook's eyes fluttered shut, eyebrows gradually pulling together as he continued to move forward until he bottomed out inside of her. He remains still for a moment, lips parting in a breathy curse at the new sensation.

''Oh…”

Jisoo bit back a drained string of moans, whimpering softly at the inward drag of Jungkook’s hardened cock planting itself deeper into her tight cunt, the tip unknowingly poking at her sensitive cervix. She squirmed, shamelessly groping at her sore breasts. The woman patiently waited until he opened his eyes to grant them her gaze. “H-how does it feel, Jungkookie?” Her hands settled for Jungkook’s rigid shoulders, not daring to move an inch until the younger felt comfortable enough to unfreeze.

His eyes opened halfway to meet hers, a smile tugging at his lips before his jaw fell back open when he drew his hips back, only to slowly drive himself back as deep into her cunt as possible, the tight, wet warmth treating his entire length with the utmost pleasure.

''It feels good... Tight...'' he sighs in content, his cock twitching inside of her already as it craved more friction-- and he decided to repeat the slow, long movements of his hips, every single muscle in his torso dancing beneath the skin to keep himself steady and his rhythm gentle. Jisoo's cunt felt great, but a small part of his brain couldn’t help the way it kept reminding him that it wasn’t Taehyung-- And another part of him shook it off. That was the point entirely.

“Good..” Her sharp nails swam deeper into his skin, leaving behind crescent-like marks along the flexed flesh. “F-faster, baby..” Jisoo paid no attention to the pet name, instead fully focusing on deliberately clenching down on Jungkook’s throbbing cock, liking the way it twitched from inside of her.

A set of her fingers smoothly weaved their way through his curls, brushing away the strands that streamed down his hazed eyes. Jisoo wanted to make sure she was all he saw.

Jungkook obliged to her wishes, his thrusts gradually speeding up-- and with every snap of his hips, the bulbous tip of his cock nudged her deepest parts. Low, breathy moans began to escape his plush lips as he kept his gaze transfixed on her face for reactions.

It was weird in a sense, how his mind constantly wanted to subconsciously compare two entirely different people. How his ex-boyfriend’s face morphed into pleasure when he did this specific move-- and then Jisoo during the same. No... he shook his head to get rid of any thoughts. Thinking was bad. All he wanted was to feel, so he sped up further, sitting up on his knees to place his hands behind her knees once more, firmly pushing her legs up to give this new angle a try. Kook was less tender now, desperate to drown himself in pleasure, fucking into her squelching hole as he gave her a perfect view of his sculpted body working her.

"You're so gorgeous," he praised through breathy grunts, sweat forming on his brow as his gaze focused on her breasts bouncing with every jolt he forced through her body.

Jisoo’s clouded eyes nearly rolled back to her skull, crying out in utter satisfaction the more Jungkook relentlessly screwed into her dripping pussy, the slickness making it easier for his cock to slide in and out without budging.

“Jungkook..!” She gaspingly screamed out his name, forcing her eyes to fall on the strong muscles projected in front of her, before they shifted over to the man’s face. Jisoo playfully squeezed and tugged at her nipple— as best as she could with Jungkook’s every sloppy thrust, secretly wanting him to get a taste.

“S-suck on them, Jungkookie..” The woman pleaded, fingers hastily rubbing over the erect bud, lips parting in a whiny whimper.

Jungkook gave her a few more punishing thrusts before once again changing his position, letting her legs fall to the bed as he leaned down, one hand cupping her breast to guide her nipple to his mouth as the other served as leverage on the mattress. A muffled moan rumbled in his throat as he sucked on her perked bud, flicking it with his tongue whilst his thrusts never wavered even once. Instead, his hips picked up the tortuous phase, now fucking into her with greed for more of her noises; wondering if she could cum from his cock alone.

A layer of sweat formed on his skin, dark locks clinging to his forehead-- other strands of hair dangling freely with the rocking of their bodies.

Fuck, it felt good. He wouldn't be able to last much longer like this.

Kook’s eyes peered up at Jisoo, making a show out of the way his lips encased her nipple, his doe eyes blown out with his playful arousal.

The woman’s frail body couldn’t handle the intense amounts of pleasure seeping in from what seemed like every direction. Her swollen cunt was getting close to fucked out, every quickened, harsh slap of the younger’s balls against her folds further toyed with Jisoo’s electrifying senses, making her wriggle helplessly underneath his towering body.

With tired eyes, she looked down into Jungkook’s playful pair, moans becoming higher in pitch from the way his tongue lapped around her hardened nipple.

“So good..” The devilish sight was endearing in a way, the woman never would’ve thought she would find herself in this situation— taking all of Jungkook’s cock like a pro.

“I-I’m going to cum-!” Jisoo’s back arched up from the bed, pushing more of her breast into Kook’s mouth. She tightly held onto him for needed support, feeling her high painfully take its time to burst.

Jungkook pulled away from her nipple with a pop, strings of saliva falling onto the younger chin, unbothered by anything. He was a man with focus, and he was adamant to make Jisoo cum as hard as possible. He placed both of his arms on each side of her, able to use his core strength further; fucking her like it was the last thing he'd ever get to do in this life.

"Cum, J-Jisoo...." he nods, begging her to find her release through his cock. Quicker than he'd hoped, he felt his own orgasm slowly making itself known in the firm of a pool of heat, muscles tensing in his Lower abdomen. And if his heavy, breathy grunts and moans were anything to go by-- he too would have to cum.

"You're so good, Jisoo--- fuck... I’m gonna cum too.."

“O-oh my god..! Just— just like that, baby!” Jisoo was close to tears, the blurred effect in her eyes tricked her into seeing clear stars, unable to focus on anything else but the way Jungkook was dead set on reaching her wanted climax.

“Fuuuck..” The woman’s head relentlessly snapped from one side to the other, the knot in her lower stomach coming loose with every determined thrust of Kook’s hips, her full breasts whipping harsher than before. She felt the sheets shift from underneath her, spawning a slight sting on her naked back. That didn’t matter, however. It was as if everything else was incapable of garnering her dizzy attention, all Jisoo was focused on was the way Jungkook was entering her over and over again, his raspy grunts comparable to music to her stuffy ears.

“A-ah! Jungkook..!” Not fully expecting the bomb to go off so soon, she loudly came over the man’s wet cock, squirting onto his pelvis and staining the sheets.

A tear managed to escape, slowly rolling down the corner of her eye.

Jisoo was fucked. Again.

Fuck, Jungkook wished that he could come inside so badly with the way Jisoos cunt was practically squeezing his cock as if it was begging for him to release inside-- but he promised not to… It took him every single drop of his strength to pull out of her, his length coated and glistening in her cum and juices. His eyes quickly flickered between his cock and back to her body, one hand reaching to hold her hip as the other wrapped around his length to stroke himself with vigor. A series of curses later, a high pitched whine choked into a broken moan got caught in his throat as his hips stuttered into his hand. Ropes of his thick cum dribbled onto Jisoos stomach, pooling at the dip of her bellybutton and trickling down her skin.

Kook threw his head forward, his eyes screwed shut as he slowed down the abuse he put his cock through by still stroking himself-- making sure every last drop of him was on her.

She drowned herself in the enticing sight unfolding before her, sticky skin shivering whilst Jungkook’s warm cum fell onto her gasping stomach, further adorning the sweaty flesh with his white-ish trail.

“That was amazing..” Jisoo breathed out through her heavy panting, a tired smile on faint display. The woman took a few more seconds to catch her breath, feeling Jungkook’s shed cum trickle down her slightly still stomach. She slowly opened her eyes, her pupils dilating at the glimpse of the younger man. With a small grunt, Jisoo sat up on the bed for easier access to his hand, gently pulling Kook down in a lying position next to her.

“You went out all the way..”

Her face inched closer to his, not hesitating in pressing a soft kiss onto his flushed cheek, then on his nose.. forehead, chin, and lastly, on Jungkook’s strained neck.

“So I’m gorgeous, hm?” She giggled, recalling what he’d called her during sex. Anything to keep the conversation going, Jisoo didn’t want to be left alone. Even if they were done fucking, she loved having Kook’s company.

Jungkook wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, letting it rest above his head as he took deep slow breaths to collect himself.

Glancing over at her, a small smile through closed teeth, "Yeah, so pretty."

He closed his eyes, exhausted from this entire day. He never seemed to have a calm day.

Jisoo didn’t allow her disappointment to seep onto her face, simply nodding with a small smile.

Was aftercare silly to want..? She wanted to feel Jungkook’s strong arms around her— in an innocent hold, hugging her close until they both fell asleep from exhaustion..

“Thank you,” The woman ran her fingers through his hair, looking up at him with obvious heart eyes. A touch of sadness lingered within them, though.

“I should get going..” Jisoo sighed, detaching herself from Jungkook’s side.

Jungkook reached out to graze the skin of her arm, gently squeezing it as his sleepy eyes lingered on her.

"You can stay...?" Honestly, he was exhausted-- but he didn't want to be left alone with his silence. Call him selfish, but it's what he needed. He didn't really ask for her reply before pulling her close into his arms.

Confused was an understatement, but Jisoo obliged to Jungkook’s leading touch. She snug closer into his chest, trying to put a stop to her heart’s drumming rhythm.

This wasn’t good.. Any of it. Jisoo had been aware that she was simply the younger man’s way out. She was his shitty sexual rebound, but the woman enjoyed his attention nonetheless.

It made her feel dirty.. used. Her liking towards Jungkook was far too strong, though. For someone as smitten as her, it would be stupid to pass on the opportunity to sleep in your crush’s arms.. There was always a part of Jisoo that wondered if she’d ever have a chance— slim to none. No other guy had caught her attention the way Kook held hers. So for right now, a casual fuck helped stitch the cracks in her heart.

Jungkook hummed in intent as he held Jisoo close, her cheek pressing against his chest. He gently stroked her back, the pads of his fingers feeling the smoothness-- and the vague dents of faded stretch marks.

"Noona..." the common name for her slipped through his teeth, his eyes remaining closed as he breathed slowly. But as he was about to figure out what he wanted to say-- it didn't come out. Instead, he simply shook his head and forced himself to fall asleep, the hold around Jisoo tightening, as if wordlessly telling her not to leave until morning.

~~~

“Yuna~ Open up for mommy..” Jisoo was sat cross-legged on the ground, trying to feed the little one her share of ‘carrot mush’ by airplaning the small spoonful in between Yuna’s pouty lips.

The woman even added silly sound effects, knowing how much she loved them. Still, her baby was extremely persistent. With a defeated sigh, Jisoo’s eyes wandered over to the tilted clock on her wall. School was dismissed, meaning Jungkook would invite himself into her apartment anytime soon.

As if it was pure magic, her daughter always ate whenever the younger man was present.

For some odd reason, Kook had little Yuna wrapped around his fingers..

They’ve spent a lot of time together; over the course of a week straight, he spent most of his time in her cozy apartment, helping her with Yuna. They had sex almost every night, without protection— Jisoo attempted to make Kook wear a condom once, but it turned out to be three sizes too small.. She was wise enough to know it was extremely irresponsible, but Jungkook seemed to always get a grip on himself.. The woman trusted him.

Her fingers desperately swam through her tangled hair, about to try and guide another useless spoonful to Yuna’s mouth when the little one’s doe eyes enlarged.

“Googie!”

She’d caught them by surprise a few nights ago while Jisoo prepared dinner.

Jungkook was playing with her when all of the sudden, Yuna said her first word! It still made the mother’s heart pound..

The woman glanced over her shoulder, smiling at the sight of ‘Googie’ whilst he discarded his shoes.

“Jungkook, hey.” She tiredly greeted, enamored with his presence.

Jungkook's toothy grin was wide, the warm greetings from the two girls had become somewhat of a habit by now.. and being deemed Yuna’s favourite 'Googie'.

"Hey," He chirped as he let his backpack fall to the floor by his shoes, a sign that he hadn't even bothered to go home, but went straight to Jisoo after school. He plopped down between the two of them, legs crossed. Leaning in, he placed a quick kiss on Jisoos cheek as he took the spoonful of carrot mush to sniff it. Kook pretended to eat some of it; a loud coo from Yuna echoing as she suddenly wanted all of the food to herself.

"Wow, you won't even share?" Jungkook scrunched his nose, feeding the little one as his eyes went back to Jisoo. "I want food too." He fake pouts.

Jisoo retracted her chin from Jungkook’s shoulder, hand playfully swinging at the younger’s bicep whilst her lips jutted out into a pout of their own.

“Yah, you were supposed to help me take care of one baby.”

Nonetheless, Jisoo sat up from her spot— not before returning the favor and stamping a chaste kiss onto the faint scar on Kook’s cheekbone.She rubbed the drowsiness out of her eyes, leaning down to smooth her dainty fingers over Yuna’s poof ball of raven hair before dragging her feet into the kitchen, rummaging through her pantry.

“Noodles sound okay, Googie?” Jisoo quietly chuckled under her breath, pushing aside the jars of baby food scattered along the counter.

Okay, maybe she was a /little/ jealous. She’s been trying to get Yuna to say ‘ma-ma’ for the longest time, but apparently the little one had different priorities..

"Yeah~" Jungkook puts the baby food down when the little one had devoured every single spoonful he offered, whining for him to pick her up with little chubby arms outstretched.

What a personality.

He did as Yuna wished and picked her up into his arms, rocking her carefully as she immediately tugs at his hair and burps.

"Such a lady.." kook jokes as he stood up with the child in his arms, heading into the kitchen to keep Jisoo company.

“How is it, does the burnt taste add a lil kick to it?” The corners of Jisoo’s beady eyes wrinkled as she laughed, vocally putting the blame on Jungkook for making her lose track of the stirring.

As it turns out, him and Yuna made quite the comedic duo. Which— would’ve been fine, if she didn’t suck at making noodles in the first place.

It was a bit of a challenge when Jisoo was trying to /not/ pee her pants from laughing too much..

Also, it didn’t help that the burner was too hot.

Sparing a quick glance at her daughter’s playpen; she slurped up another bite, stuffing her cheeks with the (somewhat) yummy goodness.

"It's delicious," Jungkook states matter of fact-ly. Even if it wasn't the most insanely delicious meal, it was made for him-- and that's what made it good. Plus, it beat his microwave noodles and granola bars any day.

"Noona, did I tell you that the big game is tomorrow?" He jumped in excitement, he'd been working his ass off for this.

"Do you think we will win?" He wiggles an eyebrow as he tilts the bowl back to drink up the remaining broth.

“Do I think you guys will win?” Jisoo seemed to ponder about the idea a second too long, dropping her skeptical act when she’d deemed enough.

“They have you on their team, don’t they? I’m sure you guys will win.”

The pad of her thumb gently brushed over Jungkook’s pouty lips, wiping away the temporary stains from the sauce. With a blinding smile, Jisoo slid closer to him, a fluttering gaze nailed to his soft eyes.

“You won’t mind us coming and cheering for you, right?” She leaned in closer, cupping the side of the man’s face.

“I’ll make sure to bring a big sign that says, ‘Go Jeon Jungkook! Noona is super proud of you’ with bright sparkly letters.. and— and glitter..” Jisoo was getting caught up on Jungkook’s inciting lips, her brain scrambling with her mumbled words. “..And a big cutout of your face..”

The woman broke out into a giggle, lips feathering against his.

“How does that sound~?” Not giving Kook any time to respond, she broke the distance between the two of them, pleasantly humming into their sweet kiss.

Jungkook smiles into the kiss, his large arms wrapping around her small frame to pull her closer, his hands settling to grip at her waist. He pulls back just enough to speak,

"Make it so sparkly that it blinds the other team." A nose scrunch grin later, he leaned back in to kiss her again. This one deeper, his plush lips gently sucking on Jisoos lower one, not ashamed to add a little tongue into his kisses, always loving the way her body reacts to his small ministrations

The woman blindly sat her half-finished bowl of burnt noodles on the coffee table— or desk— and as if her arms had a mind of their own, they fluidly circled around Jungkook’s neck.

Jisoo adored the way he took his time with her. Adored his touch, his particular taste, the dorky smile in between their kisses..

Kind of everything.

It was her turn to pull away, to scrunch her nose at their evil master plan.

“Blind the other team. Noted.” Just like that, Jisoo dived back for wanted seconds; and thirds, fourths as well, fifths.. So on until she didn’t bother to keep count.

~

Whoever thought Taehyung would last two weeks without stepping foot into Jungkook’s apartment building? No one, absolutely no one.

There he stood, antsy outside of his shitty car whilst he rocked on his feet. To make matters worse, Tae was accompanied by a relatively large stuffed animal— close to his height, to be precise. Bystanders’ drawn stares were to be expected..

He’d been wanting to gift the bear to Jisoo for a while now, but the fact that his ex boyfriend’s door lingered right next to hers was the bump in the road. It had taken a lot of self-restraint on Taehyung’s end to not reach out to Jungkook— to ask him if he could transport the stuffed animal to his close friend, of course. It’d make everything so much easier..

However, every time he thought he’d grown the balls, Tae just.. couldn’t. Plus, Kook appeared to be engrossed in his phone at all times, some might say he’s caught the ‘Jimin disease’.

What was so amazing about that damn phone? His thumbs always moved at the speed of lightning, obvious he was texting back and forth between someone..

Fuck. Taehyung’s jaw hardened at the thought.

Kook was horrible at texting, who seemed to have broken him out of his habits? Shaking his mind out of the gutter, the boy took a couple steps forward, hoping he wouldn’t come across Jungkook out of the blue. Practice was already awkward enough.

Taehyung knew the younger’s apartment number by heart. He decided to go off of his rusty memory, stopping a door too soon. He stared at the next door down, his grip on the stupid bear tightening out of deep dejection. Maybe if he just knocked on— Taehyung shook his head, frustrated at his intrusive thoughts.

The elder needed to get this done and over with, maybe then he’d go back to not thinking about Jungkook. This place triggered a lot of memories...

With a quiet sigh, Tae’s hand traveled upwards to knock on Jisoo’s door. He halted his movements midway, noticing it was cracked open. Confused, Taehyung pried through the noticeable gap.

And it was at that moment that he wished he wouldn’t have.

Jungkook was holding Jisoo close, and if that wasn’t enough to shatter his fucking heart, they were caught in a make out session. The elder’s breath hitched in his throat, the want to pull Jungkook away was too strong— too powerful.

Tae didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

~

Jungkook leaned in closer, kissing down Jisoo's jaw to her neck, his back facing Taehyung's way, her face in perfect view for Tae to see her expressions as the younger littered pecs and openmouthed kisses on her soft skin, hands roaming from her waist to sneak below her shirt up her back, her warm skin heating up his slightly colder hands. Completely unaware of the audience, Jungkook whispers into her skin between gentle bites on her collarbone,

''When we win tomorrow, you will reward me, won't you? I want something sweet,'' He squeezes the soft love handles by her hips.

Jisoo’s petite body livened up from the traces of Jungkook’s ghostly fingers trailing along her spine, her neck slightly angled to the side as she quench her thirst for the younger man’s guilty caresses.

“I-I’ll make it as sweet as you’d like, Jungkookie..“ The tremor in her lacking voice was obvious.

With one quick glance over her shoulder, Jisoo was glad to find Yuna absorbed in her rattling toys, unaware of the situation just a couple feet in front of her.

“H-hmm..” She quickly bit down on her lower lip, half-lidded eyes fluttering open only to meet a stranger’s face.

Well.. not necessarily a stranger.

Taehyung.

The boy had tears in his eyes; he was visibly hurting.

Both their gazes clashed— the passion swirling within them so different, one of lust and the other of burning distress.

Jisoo’s smaller lips parted in a soft moan, having a heavy stare down against Taehyung’s bruised ego. Tae, on the other hand, fled from the duel and roughly wiped away a stray tear, pretending he didn’t see anything. Internally panicking over what to do next, he left the stuffed animal outside of Jisoo’s door before getting out of there.

Jungkook's hands were travelling further up her back, about to attempt to pull her shirt up when a cry interrupted him.

"Ah...." he chuckled, nuzzling his nose into jisoo's neck, "guess that's it for the fun time.. little one has spoken."

Yuna cooed when he withdrew from her mother, giving a quick peck on Jisoos cheek before getting up to pick the child up in his arms. "Wanna watch some anime? There's a new episode out today~"

He nuzzled his nose in Yuna's hair, earning a small giggle as he nods, walking over to the couch to sit down next to Jisoo. "The child has spoken, it's anime night!"

~~~

“..And so, I caught them kissing. I just.. I don’t know. It made me realize how stupid I was for letting him go?” Taehyung feebly mourned, broad chest rising in sync with a deep inhale.

“I love him so much.. Ow! What the fu—“ Yerin shushed him, continuing to pluck away the overgrown hairs of Tae’s narrowed eyebrows.

“Sorry, just know they’re going to look fleek. Anyways, you were saying?”

The boy relaxed his tense expression, shifting a little on his spot. The background noise of Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’ made it a little hard to think, and the tingling sensation on his skin wasn’t helping..

“Wait, it burns.” Tae hissed through his teeth. Mina, who was in charge of the clay mask, simply brushed him off.

“That’s how you know it’s working, your skin is gorgeous by the way! Do you exfoliate?”

“I don’t even know what th—“

“Taehyung, do you want something to drink?” Areum stopped trying to fight against his tangled hair, her wrist was sore from all of the harsh tugging. The boy’s eyes immediately lit up, practically smiling through the pain whilst Yerin fucked with his eyebrows.

“That’d be great… Uh, beer would be fine.”

“It’s bad for your skin!” Mina reminded, making sure she’d gotten every spot covered.

“How does sparkling grape juice sound?”

“Right..” Taehyung was starting to rethink his last-minute decision of showing up to Yerin’s sleepover. Is there no drinking in sleepovers..?

He desperately needed it for the pain they were putting him through.

‘Beauty hurts, Taehyung. Beauty hurts.’ He internally repeated to himself, Areum’s voice still so crystal clear.

“Sure. I’ll take some juice.”

As he watched Areum run out of the room, the boy sighed. He felt lost..

“How do you think I should win Jungkook back?”

Taehyung asked no one in particular, simply throwing it out there as he was desperate to get something. A blueprint would be nice, he’d never known how to undo one of his fuck ups.

Tae never felt the need to.. until now.

Yerin finished the torturous clean-up of Tae's eyebrows, examining with a content nod before raising her own at his question.

''Ladies! Assemble!''

She clapped her hands, all girls scooting closer-- and as if she was being summoned, Areum sprinted back with the drinks on a tray, placing it on the floor by them.

''Step one, you need to look your best,'' Yerin continued, glancing over at her friends that nodded in agreement, ''Which, thanks to us, you're even further than that.''

''Jungkook is gonna be unable to take his eyes off of you!'' Mina cooed, moving his long curls away from his eyes, ''But you need to talk to him.''

''Obviously he has to talk to him,'' Areum snickered, handing him the glass of juice, ''But you were the one who broke up with him, weren't you? I don't know how easy he is to talk to, but it doesn't take half a brain to guess that he's still hurting.''

''Right! You need to apologise-- soften him up! It'll be easy after drawing him in with the cuter visuals we've blessed you with.''

The girls kept throwing their 'wisdom' his way, different ways and words to reel Jungkook back in. The gist of it was, get his attention, find space for a conversation, apologise; and work from there.

Taehyung’s brain processed the girls’ main pointers.

Get Jungkook’s attention, talk to him, and apologize.

Seemed easy enough..

But Tae knew his boyfriend— or ex— well enough to know Kook tended to hold grudges. Understandably.

“You think so?” Maybe the younger would surprise him. Maybe he’d agree that all of this was worthless; the dirty looks, awkward tension— everything.

Taehyung just wanted to be with him, no matter what kind of vulgar, cliché names outsiders hurled at them.

“Yeah.. okay.”

He took a sip of the sparkling juice, a hint of a boxy smile evident behind the clear glass.

“You’re gonna get your man back!” Yerin proudly exclaimed, the rest of the girls joining in to express their excitement.

“Yeah!” Tae softly giggled, the tingling in his skin no longer his main concern.

“I’m gonna get my man back!”

Hopefully..

Tomorrow he’ll be able to put their suggestions to the test. Taehyung could only hope his confidence wasn’t for nothing..

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 8

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 8: Alfie wants to know what Louise wants the most. 

          Louise wasn’t ashamed to admit she’d wondered about what Alfie was like behind closed doors. Part of his nature was intimidating but she’d been blessed to know his soft side. Both had a measure of intimacy and she wondered which was dominant.

           Alfie shut the door behind him and broke the kiss to set her down on the bed. He shrugged off his waistcoat, his eyes glued to her. “You don’t hafta do anything you don’t want, love.” He prefaced.

           “You’d have to tie me up to stop me.” She retorted just to rile him up more. There wasn’t much doubt about her decision. It was hard to ignore the allure. The rush of telling him she loved him was just a step. She wanted to physically express love to him.

           He chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve got a lot behind those innocent doe-eyes, don’t ya?” He accused.

           “Most girls like me like to rebel.” She informed him coyly. “Not all of us are blushing virgins.”

           “Mhm…can see that now. You’re still soft though.” He murmured and knelt at the foot of the bed. His calloused hands grazed over her bare shins, dipping under to touch her calves. “Can’t say m’not jealous that some other bloke had you ‘fore me.”

           “Are you jealous?” Louise propped herself up on her elbows to watch him.

           He grunted and grabbed her ankles to tug her closer. She sat up in front of him, being pliable to his will. “Maybe.” He admitted gruffly. His eyes met hers. “But m’gonna ruin all other men for you.” He gave her a devious smile. “Won’t ever have someone who can love you like I can.”

           His confidence shot electric anticipation right to her toes. “Is that so?” She wrapped her arms around him. “What if I don’t want any other man?”

           “Then you’ve come to the right fucking place, haven’t you?” He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her.

           It was as if Alfie’s romantic side was his true center, even if it had been neglected for the majority of his life. He stood perfectly evenly on the line of compassion and the need for power. His lips moved around hers softer than anyone else’s but he commanded the kiss. Louise wasn’t arguing she had a feeling he knew exactly what she needed. And if she needed to tell him, he’d listen. He craved power and the control over her pleasure was something intoxicating to him.

           Louise drew away, pressing her forehead to his. “You won’t want another woman after tonight.” She told him. Her voice was teasing but there was a root of serious intention. She wanted Alfie all to herself and she prayed he wasn’t like other men or even other women. The modern lover who thought it fun to hop from bed to bed. Too self-consumed to care about deep feelings.

           He exhaled sharply and reached up to run his fingers through her soft curls. He realized he had never exactly ‘made love’. Sure he’d fucked his way through France and London, what sinful bachelor didn’t? But never had he gone to bed with a woman he loved. He couldn’t even imagine doing anything else from that point on. Louise was sacred and to unravel her was a gift from heaven. The idea that he would have the potential to do that more than once in his lifetime was indescribable. “Won’t even think ‘bout another woman. You’re the only one on my mind from now on, yeah?”

           Her heart raced giddily. “I’m yours then.”

           That was enough to stroke Alfie’s ego and get him kicked into high gear. He rocked back on his heels. “Go ahead, love, take that little thing off for me. Want to see all of ya.”

           He didn’t need to tell her twice. Louise scooted back on the bed, lifting up to her knees. She held his lustful gaze as she slipped the nightgown over her head and tossed it to him.

           “Fucking hell…” Alfie drawled out and rose to his feet. He couldn’t take his eyes off her bare body. He ran a hand over his mouth and swallowed hard.

           Louise sheepishly sat back on her heels, not sure what he was thinking. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you speechless, Alfie.”

           He laughed absent-mindedly and held out a hand to her. “Fucking seen beautiful things ‘fore.” Louise took his hand and stood up on the bed. He took her hips in his hands, holding her steady on the mattress. “Jewels, works of art, stacks 'n stacks of money,” He shook his head, his blue eyes scanning over every inch of her. “But you…” He subconsciously swiped his tongue over his lower lip. “Fucking gorgeous.” His usual verbose manner of speaking was lost.

           “So you’re just going to stare at me all night?” She murmured and brushed her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.

           “Oh, Lou,” He chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve no fucking idea.” His fingers dug into her hips and desire bloomed in his eyes. “Lay down.”

           Louise lay back on the bed after he let go of her hips. “Is it my turn to see you, then?” She asked hopefully when she saw him slip his suspenders off his shoulders.

           “Not quite, gotta take care of you first, yeah?” He got up on the bed and dipped down to pepper kisses down her neck. He rested on his forearms so he didn’t put too much pressure on her. Louise wanted to feel all of him against her but decided to get used to the intimate relationship first.

           He left bruising marks on her neck, eliciting soft gasps of need from her lips. After placing at least four darkening marks on her throat and collarbone, he pulled away to admire his work. His thumb gently smoothed over the skin making her whimper.

           “Gotta make sure the world knows you’re mine.” He murmured possessively.          

           It made Louise melt into the mattress. “Alfie…”

           His jaw clenched. He needed to hear his name slipping off her tongue. It was making him drunk and he wouldn’t stop until the letters were etched permanently into her soul. “I’ve gotcha, love.” He purred and lowered his focus to her chest, toying with her breasts. Every reaction he got out of her was like a shot of adrenaline straight into his heart. The way she squirmed under him, begging softly for more, speaking his name like he was a deity to be praised. It was only a wonder how far he could push her, what type of reaction he could draw out from the deepest part of her. It made him unbearably greedy.

           He dipped lower, laving his tongue over the dips in her abdomen and hips, his beard tickling over her soft skin. Louise’s face burned as he passed over her hips and buried his face between her thighs. Never before had a man taken his time with her. Her past flings had always used her for their own pleasure. And although she got flashes of thrill from the experience, it was nothing like being under Alfie. She wasn’t sure how he knew exactly what to do to get her right to the edge. He was confident with the attention he gave her body.

           So confident, that it wasn’t long before he made Louise into a quivering mess. Her fingers knotted into his hair and he had to press an arm over her hips to keep her from bucking. Her head threw back in the pillow, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. He only let up for a second, earning a whine of disapproval.

           “Look at me.” He commanded in a deep voice. “I want your eyes on me.”

           Her entire body trembled as he held her gaze. Her breathing became labored and her knees kept turning in, too overwhelmed. Alfie didn’t even want to blink and miss a millisecond. They were both utterly mesmerized by each other.

           Then it happened. Like a divine miracle, Louise came undone. Her body locked up and she gasped out his name. “Alfie!”

           He groaned and raised himself back up. He kissed ravenously at her neck while she came down from her high. "Gorgeous...look at you."

           She moaned softly as he nipped at her collarbone, her arms lazily wrapped around him. “All that and you’ve barely even taken your socks off.” She laughed breathily.

           He chuckled against her skin. “Had to warm you up, didn’t I?” He lovingly pushed away a few curls that had stuck to her flushed face.

           “I think I’m well past that.” She touched his cheek. They fell into a hushed moment. Her eyes drawing him in and making his chest hurt with the amount of adoration he had for her. “Alfie,” The words came out in a longing whisper. “Please take me.”

           The man pushed up and stood to hurriedly undress. A strange sensation settled in his stomach. Carnal desires bubbled inside of him, wanting to just bend Louise over and fuck her senseless. But it didn’t feel right; it wasn’t what she deserved at least not their first time together.

           “Alfie?”

           “Hm?” He glanced up at her as he stepped out of his pants.

           “How do you want me?” She had sat up, tucking her knees against her bare chest. Her eyes grazed over his form while she chewed at her lower lip. It was a strange question, to say the least. She half expected Alfie to tell her but he hadn’t. She could recall times spent with Daniel, nights where he barely even looked at her. It was as if he were pretending she was someone else.

           “Uh…” He walked back over to the bed, rubbing the back of his neck. “On your back, yeah, want to see that face of yours.” He tugged off his boxers and climbed back over her. It was likely he didn’t realize how much that meant to Louise. She smiled and pulled him into a kiss. One hand braced against the bed, the other aligning himself with her. Her hands clutched at his back as he slowly pressed into her.

           “Okay?” He asked quietly against her lips.

           She nodded. “Yes…Alfie, please…”

           “Talk to me, Lou, tell me what you need.” He growled as they adjusted to one another. "Can't give it to you until you tell me."

           “Need you, please Alfie, please.”

           Begging, he had her begging. If Alfred Solomons wasn’t cocky enough already, he could never come back after that night. “Can’t hear you, love, yeah gotta speak up.” He toyed.

           “Alfie, c’mon, please don't tease me.” She looked positively desperate under him. Her big brown eyes yearning. “Alfie-” She cried out when he thrust forward without warning. “Fuck!”

           He smirked deviously. The word never sounded so sinful before and it unlocked more to her. “Fucking hell, woman, you’re going to be the death of me. Won’t be able to get enough of you.”

           “Just wait.” She panted, moaning against his shoulder. “By the end of every week-oh, God-you’ll be-fuck-begging for a break from me.”

           Surely Alfie didn’t deserve to enter heaven on Earth, but it appeared it was already through the gates. “I fucking love you, Lou.” He crushed his lips to hers, finding the rhythm that worked them both up.

           He could sense when she was close. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades and she became louder. His neighbors wouldn’t be pleased but to hell with them, he wanted to hear her in that state. He grabbed her chin so she couldn’t look away from him.

           “Alfie…yes…Alfie…almost, almost…Alfie!”

           Her sharp cry was enough for him to hit his climax. “Fuck!” He grunted and collapsed against her. “Lou…I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven, I have.” He slurred into the crook of her neck.

           She laughed faintly and clung tightly to him. “I might’ve too.” The waves of pleasure ebbed but the feeling of intimacy remained as he stayed in her embrace. Neither wanted to move a muscle, only to stay in that moment for as long as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           To Louise, Alfie was a work of art. He didn’t represent the ideals of antiquity’s grace, but she didn’t care. Nothing in the world could be flawless. The mesmerizing bit about him was finding the softness hidden behind layers and layers of steel armor. The parts he hid from the world to conceal any possible weakness. To the rest of Britain, he was a calculating, potentially mad man who was indifferent about killing a man with his bare hands. But there was so much more. He was still brutally clever, his ambitions focused on power, and perhaps he was desensitized to gore, but he was still just a man. He'd shown her that well enough the night before.

           Alfie had a hold on her even if he didn’t intend to.

           “Got your head in the clouds? Lost ya there for a bit.”

           Louise blinked a few times and smiled. She took in the form beside her in bed. He laid on his back, one arm wrapped around her, the other casually placed behind his head. No, he wasn’t a chiseled marble statue, spotless and divine. He was riddled with all sorts of scars of various sizes and different stages of healing. Several tattoos covered his chest, arms, and shoulders. Most were symbols and designs she didn’t recognize the meaning of. Thin black lines etched into his skin, just as permanent as the scars. She wanted to be just as permanent on him.

           He was built well, probably not as fit as he had been when he was younger and in the army. But his muscles were defined, his strong shoulders something to admire. It was strange seeing him without his usual armor. He was just an average man, but he made himself appear so dangerous. It lent to the idea that Alfie's strength came from within. Something inside gave him the ability to bring a man to his knees without skipping a beat. He was a complex man, maybe no one could decode him entirely.

           Louise traced a few scars and birthmarks up his chest, pausing to outline the tattoos with the pad of her finger. Alfie watched with curious eyes but didn’t dare interrupt her focus. The spine-tingling touch was heavenly for him. Normally, he was so accustomed to rough exchanges. Business handshakes, Tommy Shelby’s was bone-crushing, a good fight, or attempted murder. Now Louise was making him yearn for more of her gentle touches rather than the adrenaline pumping violence.

           She paused at a few scars, taking in the pale white or pink skin that marked him. There was no telling whether or not they were acquired during the war or in Camden town. Maybe even he lost track.

           Finally, Louise smoothed her fingers over each of Alfie’s cheeks. She was so familiar with his beard now and came to adore the bristly texture of it against her skin. But she was curious. “Have you ever thought about shaving?” She cocked her head to the side.

           His brow furrowed but he appeared amused. “Thought you liked my beard.”

           “No, I do!” She shook her head. “I think you’re handsome, you know that.” That produced a cocky smile from him. “But I’m trying to picture what you look like without it.” Her fingernails lightly scratched over his cheekbones.

           “Been like this since I came back from France.” He told her, resting his hands over her wrists so she wouldn’t stop. “Trust me, wouldn’t want to see me without it. Look like a monster with that fucking scar.”

           She frowned. “I’m sure that’s not true.” There was a good chance she would fight anyone who attempted to bad mouth Alfie, even Alfie himself.

           “Mhm." He didn't want to argue the fact. She didn't see him sitting in front of the mirror, disturbed at his own reflection. The stitches from his ear to the side of his chin. The ghastly scar that remained. Better she never saw. "Tell you what, I’ll dig up my military papers. Get to see me clean-shaven.” He bargained just so she wouldn’t even bring up the idea of him shaving.

           Louise gave him a sly glance. “A clean-shaven Captain Solomons in his uniform, lucky me.”

           His stomach tightened. Her angelic voice calling him by his rank only conjured utterly sinful imagery. He was so blessed that she seemed just as insatiable as he was.

           “I’m sure all the nurses were all fawning over you.” She concentrated on drawing small looping shapes over his cheeks and jaw with the pad of her finger.

           Alfie was surprised to see a hint of jealousy from her. He thought he was the only inherently envious one between them. “Paid them no mind. I was waiting, yeah, for someone better to come along, weren’t I?”

           A smile hinted at her pink lips. “A spoiled girl from Surrey?”

           “A beautiful woman who is truly the fucking best woman I’ve ever met.”

           “Alfie…” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

           “Woman who deserves the fucking world, don’t she?”

           “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

           His blue eyes fixed on her while he grabbed her hips so she was straddling his waist. “What do you want most in life? Anything, s’yours by tomorrow, promise.”

           She giggled and shook her head. “I don’t want anything.” Her palms rested on his bare chest.

           “What ‘bout a house?" He didn't believe that she didn't want anything. She was a woman, he assumed they all wanted something nice. He certainly liked some fancy things. "A manor out in the countryside? Hundred servants for you, yeah, won’t have to do anything ever again.”

           “I like my flat in London and I don’t mind taking care of myself.” She shook her head firmly with a bemused smile. "Don't want to spend my days in an empty home like that."

           But he wasn’t finished, wanting to find her wish. “Horses? You rode horses, dinnit ya? What ‘bout a stable full of any horse you want?”

           “I did ride horses but I don’t need one because I can walk to work.” She tilted her head to the side, looking down at him.

           “Jewels? Get you the finest jewels this world has seen. I’ve got the best connections out in Paris…”

           “Alfie.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I only want you and Cyril.” She said adoringly. “You make me so happy and that’s all I need from here on out."

           When she moved her finger, he lifted his hand. “See this?” He showed her a tattoo of a crown between his index finger and thumb.

           “Yes?”

           “Means I’m a king, love.” He murmured and stroked a hand through her hair.

           “Are you?” She smirked. “Does Buckingham Palace know you’ve taken the throne?” She teased.

           He chuckled and shook his head. “Different kinda king. But it means I can spoil who I want, yeah?”

           “Hm…well I hope you find the woman who wants to be spoiled with jewels. Because all I need is a roof over my head, something to wear, place to work, and a handsome man to love me.” She bent down to kiss his forehead.

           He smiled slightly. “Fine, then I’ll just have to guess what you want. ‘Cause I am going to fucking spoil you, yeah? You’ll just be surprised.”

           She sighed. “I guess I can’t stop you…”

           “Mhm, gonna start with a whole closet full of lingerie. Something of every color.” He gave her a wicked smile.

           She bit back a smirk and stuck her tongue out at him. “Do you men only think about sex?” She teased.

           He didn’t respond, instead, he tugged her back down to kiss her.

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

         Alfie wasn’t sure what he liked better, Louise in an evening gown, a nightgown, trousers, or nothing at all. Most likely, she could wear anything and he’d still feel weak. Like other men, he was trying to get accustomed to the growing trend of women’s trousers. But when he saw her in baggy khaki pants rolled up to her shins and wearing one of his white button-down shirts, he nearly crumbled.

           She was reading in the sunroom, curled up in an armchair. Her hair was loose and natural instead of in curls. Her bare feet dangled over the cushioned arm of the chair, lazily swinging as she read. Cyril lay near her, his sad eyes looking up at her every so often. Her hand would slip off the book to idly scratch behind his ears. She bore the look of domestic bliss, something Alfie never had the pleasure to indulge in.

           Her hazel eyes looked up over the blue covered book when she noticed his presence in the doorway. “Everything going okay in London?”

           Alfie had nearly forgotten about the phone call he just had with Ollie. “Eh? Oh, yeah, yeah, nothing’s wrong.”

           Cyril lifted himself up and padded over to his master. The dog was enjoying the cottage and especially the beach. It was probably the longest period of time Alfie had been consistently peaceful. There were a few possible remedies. The ocean, the quiet, being out of the bakery, and Louise.

           “See? What did I tell you? Everything would be perfectly fine. You’re allowed to take a break every so often.” Louise straightened up and marked her page before setting the book down.

           “Well, when you’re right, you’re right.” He heavily sat down on one of the nearby couches. He stroked Cyril’s ears when the bullmastiff leaned against his legs.

           She gasped in feigned shock, pressing a hand to her heart. “My Alfie is admitting he was wrong about something? Call the Daily Mail!”

           He chuckled and shook his head. “One man can’t be right ‘bout everything, now can he?”

           “My mother used to say there was only one thing keeping men from sending the world straight into chaos.” She gave him a sly look and sat on her heels.

           “Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What would that be?”

           “A patient woman.”

           He rubbed a hand over his chin and shrugged. “You think? I dunno.”

           Louise rolled her eyes because she knew he was just trying to pull her leg. She stood and flipped her hair. “Well if you don’t know then you won’t ever know.” She replied and went to pass by him.

           “C’mere you.” Alfie grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap making her giggle softly. He set his hands firmly on her hips as he held her gaze. “Me mum, yeah, she would grab me by the ear.” He playfully tweaked Louise’s earlobe. “After I’d gotten in trouble with coppers. Then she’d say I weren’t ever gonna find a respectable woman. Always asked me what I wanted.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek.

           “What did you want?” Louise wondered. She slipped her hands under his shirt to rest on his shoulders, smoothing her thumb over the knots in his muscles.

           He groaned in appreciation and closed his eyes for a moment. “To be fucking honest, I didn’t know. All I knew was what I knew, yeah? Knew that people looked down on me. Just a petty criminal, a poor Jew, all rough ‘round the edges. Was nothing but a little pest. But what if I could show ‘em? Show London that I were a force to be reckoned with?” His blue eyes opened again and he stared at the ceiling. “Make ‘em think twice ‘bout what they said.” His voice faded into something grim. His jaw tensed and he let out a sigh.

          “You wanted them to know you by name.” Louise realized.

           He raised an eyebrow and his eyes flicked to her.

           She explained herself. “Alfie Solomons. You wanted people to hear that name and react. You didn’t want to be another nameless face being shoved to the side.”

           His mustache twitched with a hint of a smile. “Perhaps.” He murmured coyly. “Did I good job of that, didn’t I?”

           “I would say so.” Louise stilled her hands and studied his face. “So, now what do you want?”

           “Eh?”

           “You’ve made something of your name.” She wouldn’t comment on the ambiguity of what that something was. “So now what?”

           “Well, keep working. S’all I can do.” He shrugged and closed his eyes again. “London ain’t going anywhere any time soon so neither am I.” His voice quieted to a whisper as he relaxed back.

           Louise watched him rest. Despite the break, there was always a hint of exhaustion under his eyes. He was thirty-six but had aged from experience alone. The things he’d witnessed stuck to him. Things he couldn’t control like the scars digging into his skin. And things he chose like the inflicted tattoos. It was a wonder if men like Alfie stepped back and evaluated their course of action. If they were falling through an abyss, doing things they never thought they’d do, eventually changing the world around them. Were they destructive or misled?

           She kissed his forehead and he mumbled softly, reaching up to touch the nape of her neck.

           Was it so wrong to try and become what Alfie was becoming? Was he any different from kings and emperors? Men who killed for power?

           She swallowed and closed her eyes, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He felt so safe. The image of Alfie Solomons, the image others saw was fading away. It was nothing but a façade to her. She’d never been on the sharp edge of that sword and never anticipated to.

           He enveloped her in his arms, his lips finding her temple and kissing her skin tenderly.

           It was inevitable. The further she fell for him, the further engrossed in him she became. The jewel of Alfie’s affection. Sometimes a queen didn’t see the actions of her king. Yet she was a queen, nonetheless.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Alfie could you-” Louise paused as she entered through the open door. A young man stood at Alfie’s desk. They both glanced at her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.” She stepped back.

           They’d returned to London after the weekend. Alfie grumbled and complained but there was work to be done. Louise assured him there would be more trips to Margate in the future. Just to confirm this, Alfie bought the cottage they’d rented. But he didn’t disclose that to her. He’d find another time to surprise her. It was nice to have as a backup plan. It gave some light to London’s smoke and gloom.

           “No, no, s’alright.” Alfie waved Louise into the office. “This is one of my lads. Nicholas, this is me secretary, Louise Barnes.”

           “Nice to meet you, Nicholas.” She smiled politely and went to set a few papers down in front of Alfie. She didn’t mind coming back to London as much as Alfie did. Of course, it would be nice to stay on the ocean, she was content wherever he was. She was also happy that the trip had eased some of his aches and worries.

           “Pleasure, Miss Barnes.” The tall man replied with a tip of his hat.

           “Everything alright?” Louise sensed something was amiss. Alfie looked deep in thought with his hand over his mouth and his eyes fixed on the cabinet across the room.

           “Grace Shelby was killed last night.” He answered her honestly.

           It was an icy shock. Louise had never met Tommy’s wife, they’d only been recently married. But there was talk about her work with the Shelby foundation She was also aware of the son Tommy had with her. “Killed? How?” She was stunned.

           “A bullet meant for her husband.” He ran his fingers over his beard while staring into space.

           Louise inhaled shakily. “We should go pay our respects to the family, especially Tommy.”

           “More pressing matters right now.” Alfie blinked a few times, snapping out of his daze.

           “What do you mean?” Louise looked over at Nicholas realizing he probably brought the bad news. “What pressing matters?”

           “Were the Italians. Messy ‘tween ‘em ‘n the Blinders.” Nicholas told her in a thick accent. “Things been escalatin’.”

           “Sabini?”

           “No.” Alfie cracked his knuckles, still sounding detached and too engrossed in his own mind. “The Changrettas.”

           The name wasn’t familiar to Louise and she thought she had a good handle on the people she needed to know. “Are they in London?”

           “The son is in New York. Runnin’ gin. Could be big as Capone, they say. Works for the Spinietta family too.”

           “But Vincente and Angel live here,” Alfie said shaking his head. “And they fucking dug their own graves when their assassin missed the mark. Satan himself couldn’t kill that gypsy, they wasted their time trying to.”

           “Tommy is going to try to retaliate.” Louise followed the logic. The Peaky Blinders, like other firms, never let go of a grudge until they had the final say. Usually, that created a back and forth that didn’t seem to have an end. There was always someone with a pistol looking for revenge.

           “Angel Changretta’s already dead. Fuckin’ throat slit.” Nicholas told her in a grim voice. He wasn’t sure a woman, no less a secretary should hear such things. But Alfie didn’t stop him from telling her.

           “But that’s their business.” She said with shaky assurance. “It won’t bother us, right?” There was no response. “Alfie?”

           “Nick, you can go.” The gangster stood up to see his informant out. He didn’t bother to answer Louise’s question.

           The silence gave her anxiety and she wasn’t sure what was happening. “Alfie, you’re scaring me.”

           He shut the door and pulled the blinds so the rest of the bakery couldn’t see into his office.

           “Al-”

           He held up a hand to hush her. “Listen very carefully, yeah, because this innit a game.” He stopped in front of her, his blue eyes hard on her face. “We go on, keep working, right?”

           “Then why are you so worried?”

           “Who said I was fucking worried?” He retorted sharply. “I’m not…” He grimaced and huffed out a breath. His eyes looked over her shoulder. “When a war starts, everyone looks for allies. They’re gonna look to me, yeah?”

           “You can’t get involved in this,” Louise whispered and touched his cheek. “Alfie, this is none of your business. What Tommy wants to do, he’ll do. But you don’t need any part of this.”

           Alfie refused to look at her. “They’ll involve me whether I fucking like it or not. S’not how the game is played, Lou.”

           “This isn’t a game…”

           “We’ll just have to wait to see what Tommy does next.” He tried pulling away from Louise.

           “Alfie…”

           “You can go back to work, s’all I had to tell you.” He nodded curtly and went to lift the blinds.

           She stared at him for a moment, frozen in place. “What are you willing to risk, Alfie? For something you have no stake in?”

           “You can go, Louise.” He sat back down and pointed to the door. “I have a meeting soon.”

           The woman swallowed and contemplated putting up a fight. But she didn’t want to make things worse. They would handle it later. She had to go about this the only way she knew how.

Tag list: @vehement-care​ @kimmietea​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[di-in-al]

Californian Gold

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, etc etc

Notes: So this is my jab at a Stranger Things fic. This is hopefully going to be a multiple part series, so lets hope for the best. Anyways, enjoy!

_____

“So you’re transferring from where again?” The hag of a woman sat across the desk, her white eyebrows were furrowed in aggravation. You huffed, wondering how many more times you were going to hear this question again. 

“New Harmony.” Her old fingers wrote down the information in a thick book. There were people hurrying in and out of the school’s office as you stood there. You watched as students excitedly walked and talked down the hallway. This made you groan, you were glad this would be your last first day of school. 

“What was that name again?” You whipped around and chuckled bitterly. There were two women sitting behind this desk, one is really young and has a permanent smile on her face and then this woman, that was currently scowling at you due to your lack of an answer. Unfortunately, you got stuck with this one. 

“Oh my Go- you know what? Is there anyway I can finish filling that out?” You snatched the pen and book away from her, sighing with relief when you saw how many questions she would’ve had to ask you. 

When you finished, you slung your book bag over your shoulder and snatched your class schedule from her bony fingers. Without another word, your feet left the annoying office and started down the hallway. There was still fifteen minutes until class started and you desperately needed a cigarette before you went back into that hell hole. Your eyes found a bench by the parking lot where no teachers could see you, and you tossed your stuff down. The Walkman headphones that rested on your collarbones softly played music. You rummaged through your book bag in hopes to find your lighter but to no avail. 

“Fuck off.” The words came out in a desperate moan, with the cigarette bobbing up and down with the syllables. The breeze caught under your jean jacket, cooling off your frustration. 

“You need this?” The first thing can came into view was a zippo with a well lit flame dancing in the breeze. Then you saw a tall figure to your side, leaning over the bench. He also had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a smirk on his face. His baby blue eyes were staring directly at you, and his wide open button down shirt caught in the wind revealing a Virgin Mary necklace. How ironic. You could already picture what kind of person he is in this school. By the way his bedroom eyes and pink lips were watching you, you could tell he had one main objective.

You leaned over to catch the light, puffing a couple times before pulling the cigarette from your mouth. 

“Thanks man.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, your hands reach up and throw your headphones over your ears. You gather your stuff and head towards the front doors, all the meanwhile puffing on your cigarette. 

You sat in the farthest desk from the front, your first class being English unfortunately. Today was somewhat of an easy day, especially with people still getting their schedules fixed. This was good seeing as the teachers wouldn’t care whether your Walkman was wrapped around your head or your nose being stuck in a book. The book that was currently in your grasp was Dracula, and you were just getting to the good part. That was until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned, seeing a boy sitting next to you with his happy eyes looking at directly at yours. His hair was in a pile atop his head and he was shining you a small open lipped smile. Your eyebrows shot up in question without taking the headphones off. He motioned towards them and pretended to pull them off. With hesitation, you slowly pulled them off with a huff. 

“Yeah?” Your finger held your place in your book while your attention was averted. 

“Hey, um, I’m Steve. Ironically, you moved into the house next to mine this weekend. So I see you’re new to Hawkins,” His hair bobbed up and down with each word, and you just couldn’t help yourself but to stare at it. It was just so...tall. His hand reached up to resituate the dark colored locks, his eyes awkwardly looking over to the side. “I just wanted to reach out and see if you needed anything. I’ve lived here my whole life so I’d know just about anything.” His eyes widened with an idea and he began going through his book bag. He ripped a small piece of paper from a binder. He scribbled something down and handed it to you. 

“Here’s my number if you ever need anything.” Just then, the bell rang to go to your next class and everyone stood up. Steve grabbed his stuff and you stood with your book. You couldn’t tell if he was giving it to you in hopes to get lucky or if he genuinely cared. As he walked away, you prepared yourself to talk. 

“Uh, thank you Steve. I’m Y/N by the way.” The smile that covered his face was brilliant and it caused you to grin. The first sign of happiness since you were dragged here against your will. 

“See you around, Y/N.” With that, his long legs carried him through the doorway, you followed shortly after. 

The day wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be. Seeing as you did absolutely no school work, it was actually pretty decent. You fumbled with the piece of paper that rested in your jean jacket pocket along with your lighter that you soon found deep in your book bag for some unknown reason. Your keys jingled in your other pocket which your fingers soon wrapped around. Your cherry red Datsun sat next to a pretty nice looking Camaro, both of them making this dirty parking lot look just a little nicer. You had a matching red pool ball key chain that accompanied your car keys. As you walked towards your trunk, you began thinking about how you’d fare here in Hawkins. So far it wasn’t that bad, you began thinking about how if you kept to yourself, you’d be fine. Before you took off, you decided to smoke one more time before you left. You slammed your trunk, pulling your Camels from your pocket. As you lit one, you saw the Lighter guy walking your direction. His brow was furrowed and he was grumbling to himself.

Your mind wandered as you watched him pull out a pack of Camels too, only to find that they’re empty. 

“Fuck!” His low voice cursed and you chuckled to yourself. That’s what you must’ve looked like this morning. Deciding to take pity on him, your hand dives into your pocket.

Your hands absentmindedly reached for yours and pulled on stick halfway out of the paper pack.

“You need this?” Your voice drifted between the two cars and his sandy blonde curls whipped in your direction. His eyes immediately went to the pack of cigarettes where his vice was extended towards him. 

Your mind couldn't help but to worry if he’ll take it or not. Your palms began to sweat, while his were balled into fists. Your day went great, knowing you, you’ll fuck it up before it has the chance to stay that way. 

“Yeah.” His voice broke the wall of worry and awkwardness and he plucked it from its fellow cigs. He lit it quickly and with that, you walked back around to the driver’s side of the car. You tossed your half finished stub and ground it out with your red Chucks. From your peripheral, you could see his eyes glued to you. You suddenly became aware of every movement you both took. You didn’t feel the need to impress him, but you two almost had an understanding. Even with the only two times you’ve interacted. 

With that, you opened your door and you were interrupted by his voice.

“Nice car.” His husky voice didn’t hold the charm it did this morning, it was almost as if he actually meant it. It wasn’t something to gain your attention so he could continue his flirting.

“Thanks, you too.” You slid into the seat, and started the car, reversing out and hightailing it out of there. 

You passed by the many stores that were in downtown Hawkins, hoping to spot a Hiring sign. Finally, the very last store had a piece of paper in the window with just those words in bold letters. 

Bingo.

You park in front of it, next to a green Pinto. Your Chuck clad feet take you inside the store and start looking for any sign of life. Your eyes check down each isle, not seeing a soul in sight. This might not be a great sign, you think to yourself. 

“Hello?” Your raspy voice calls out to the silence and that’s when you hear a loud bang. Your heart starts racing, and your feet start heading towards the sound of the noise. You’ve yet to hear any voices and that’s the part that’s worrying you so bad. You reach the register where you heart a small voice.

“Ow...:” Getting on your toes, your head pokes over the counter, seeing a brunette woman holding the back of her head. 

“Are you okay?” At the sound of your voice, her head snaps up and her mouth forms into a huge grin. 

“Yes! I just, uh, bumped my head I guess. What can I help you with?” Her small frame slowly raised up, causing you see how nice she looked. She had bangs that touched her eyebrows and her brown eyes had a warm feeling to them. Let’s hope she runs this joint. 

“I just wanted to inquire about the sign in the window?” Your fingers pointed to the white paper in the window and her eyes lit up. 

“Oh of course! Yeah, I just need someone around here when I can’t be. I’m here by myself most of the time unless one of my boys are here with me,” She walked out of the small cubicle behind the cash register. Her small hand extended towards you with a smile. “I’m Joyce Byers, I’m afraid I’ve never seen you here before.” That’s when her eyebrows and mouth turn up in question, running through her mind trying to put my face to any name she could think of. It was an awkward feeling, someone not knowing you. Especially when you come from a place where everyone knows you. You grasped her hand, shaking it firmly and grinning. 

“Y/N. That’s cause I just moved in last week.” Her eyes light up even more so, if that’s possible. She laughed and nodded. 

“That’s something we’re not used to here in Hawkins. So would you be interested?” Her arms motioned to the store. From the looks of the fully stocked shelves, there isn’t much business here and no other employees. That’s perfect.

“Super interested.” 

She had you fill out an application, just for precautionary reasons. After talking with her more, telling her you went to Hawkins High she understood when you’d be able to work. 

“My oldest son goes there. I have a younger one still in middle school too. Any siblings?” My eyes held their gaze on the shelf behind her and with a shake of my head she laughed.

“Me neither, I personally think it’s better that way.” You two spoke for a little while longer, her giving you a tour and then closing up. It started to get dark and that's when you remembered something.

“Shit.” You mumbled to yourself and then turning towards her. “Joyce? Do you have a phone here I can use?” Of course she did, and pointed you in the direction of it while she checked to see if everything was ready to close.

You grasped the handle and picked up the phone. You quickly dialed the number you were made to memorize last night.

The phone rang a couple times before it was picked up.

“Y/N?” The voice that flowed through the phone made you calm and somewhat happy.

“Yeah Daddy, it’s me. You want me to go to the store for anything?” You’d tell him about the job when you get home. He sighed and chuckled. Your dad stayed at home mostly and it was his idea to move to Hawkins, apparently growing up here through high school and before he went into the military. He was injured pretty bad In Vietnam and doesn’t really like to go out much.

“Yeah sweetie, I’m glad you asked. I completely forgot. Um, just pick up something to eat tonight and some milk. That’ll do. Thank you.” He was barely able to get through his sentence before he went into a coughing fit. 

“Alright Daddy, I’ll be home after that. Love you.” He reciprocated and you both hung up. While Joyce was still in the back, you ran to get some things from the store. You picked up a couple frozen pizzas and milk. With that, you were both off. Your eyes traveled up to the sign that hung above the doorway. 

Melvalds General Store.

You took off towards your house, travelling down a long back road. AC/DC pounded from your speakers and the wind howled through the windows. The weather was definitely different here than it was in Florida. It’s still hot as hell down there right now. Shorts and tank tops were most definitely needed. Up here, it’s cool. Even with a chill coming through in the mornings. 

Your thoughts were cut off as you saw smoke began to pour out of your hood. 

“Oh shit.” The brakes squeaked as you stopped on the side of the road, turning the ignition off and rushing out of the car. You popped the hood and when you let it open completely, a plethora of smoke came bounding at you. You could barely see, let alone diagnose what was wrong. 

Your throat screamed when it inhaled the smoke, causing you to cough erratically. Once the smoke cleared, you immediately noticed that your radiator reservoir was empty causing the engine to overheat. One of your hoses must have a leak.

You knew you didn’t have any antifreeze, so water would have to do. That’s if you had enough water to fix the problem. The only thing you had was a half empty bottle of water. 

“Fuck!” Your now dirty hand slammed against the hood of your car.This had to happen to you, on your first day. 

Of fucking course. 

You began walking to the nearest phone booth, hoping maybe they’re would be one near. Based on the looks of this road, most likely not. However, if you were paying attention you would’ve noticed the one not too far away. You began walking in the opposite direction in hopes to find one further up the road. You doubted anyone else coming down this road either, seeing how dead it was on your short drive on it. Not once did you see any fellow cars pass you. 

You walked for about twenty minutes without avail. That’s when you saw lights coming from behind you and the low rumble of an engine. You waved it down hoping it wasn’t a serial killer or something. Once that idea enters your mind, you figure that this wasn’t the best idea. 

Unfortunately, the car pulls over and due to the headlights, you couldn’t see the figure that stepped out of the car. The radio blasted Scorpions and you held your hand up to your eyes to see if you could get a glimpse of the person. 

“You need help, princess?” Your ears immediately recognized the voice and you groaned. That’s when his full body stepped from behind the cover of his lights. His curls blew in the breeze and he, like always, had a cigarette hanging from his pouty lips. “Saw your car back there, and the smoke. Doesn’t look so good. You need a lift?” He threw the cig onto the road and snubbed it out. He had that smirk back again, the one that didn’t amuse you in the slightest.

“I just need water for my radiator. So unless you got any of that, I’ll pass.” You didn’t want to have to deal with a broken down car and someone trying to get in your pants. It’s one or the other. You didn’t have the patience.

He softly held a hand to his chest pretending to act hurt.

“Damn, I was only trying to be nice.” He said it lightly and with a mischievous grin. 

“I don’t need you to be nice to me. I’ll be fine.” You turned your body away, clutching the jacket closer to your body due to the chill setting on the blank road. 

“C’mon princess. Don’t be like that. I thought we were getting somewhere.” You scoffed and stopped in your tracks. You whipped around to him where he sat with a smug look on his face. His hands were also in his leather jacket pockets and his cheeks were staring to flush. This caused your anger to grow, you knew that’s all he wanted. A reaction.

“Look, fuck off man. I’m not interested in anything you have to offer, unless it’s a jug of water.” With that, you turned and walked off without another word. You heard him get back into his car and take off in the opposite direction you were going. At this rate, you won’t be home until midnight. Your Dad was probably worried sick. As soon as you found a phone, you’d call him and let him know. That made you think, he has no way to get here and you wouldn’t want him to come all the way out here. The small piece of paper in your pocket called your name and you had an idea. 

Steve. 

He lives right next to you and that’d be perfect. You traveled for another fifteen minutes before the small gleaming light of a telephone booth caught your eye. You laughed and jogged after it, swinging the door open and reaching for the phone. You pulled out the piece of paper and started dialing the number. After a couple of rings, someone picked up.

“Hello?” The voice belonged to a woman and it caught you off guard. 

“Hey, is Steve there?” You question was answered soon after when you heard his voice.

“Hello?” Relief rushed over you in waves, happy to have finally reached someone. 

“Hey Steve, this is Y/N. I know we barely know each other but I just broke down. Do you think you could help?” He began talking away asking where you were and a million other questions. The only thing was that you weren’t listening because you heard the same low rumble of the Camaro. He pulled up next to booth, holding out a jug of water out of his window. He stopped and stepped out.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice finally snapped you out of your spell and you focused back on the phone call.

“Yeah, Steve uh give me a second.” The guy stepped up to you and smiled smugly. He opened the door to the booth and slightly stepped in. 

“Oh no no, none of this.” He reached for the phone and wagged a finger.

“Steve? Harrington is that you?” He grabbed the phone from you, and began talking into it. 

“Look, she’s being taken care of. Don’t worry, Harrington. I’m doing a much-” You snatched the phone from his hand and held back up to your ear. 

“Hey Steve, look. I’m good now. Don’t worry. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you.” With that, you roughly hung the phone back up and glared at the guy. He was walking back to his car where he grabbed the jug of water.

“You told me you’d only be interested in a jug of water. Lookie here. So now I do have something you’d be interested in.” You scowled at him, your eyes closing and your throat lets out a groan.

“So let me ask again, you need a lift?” You glanced down at the water and chuckled to yourself. You waited a moment, looking up at his smug face, slipping another cigarette in between his lips. You didn’t say anything before travelling over to his passenger door and waiting.

“The name’s Billy, you?” He’s gone out of his way to help you. Or get into your zipper rather. The least you could do is tell him.

“Y/N. Let’s go.” You kept it short and to the point. He chuckled, turning on the ignition and revving the car. 

“Aright Y/N, lets see what we can do about this naughty radiator.” He turned towards you and gave a wink. You rolled your eyes and looked out of the window. He gunned it down the long road, heading into the darkness. Literally.

__

[waywardaardvark79]

Come Back to Me:  Part 3

Summary: Y/N, a WW2 army nurse spends her days caring for and patching up injured soldiers. The last thing she ever expected was that one of the soldiers that she saved would steal her heart. A story of two people and the insurmountable obstacles they overcome to always come back to each other.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (platonic)

Warnings: language, angst, talk of non-con (no graphic details) Crowley being a creep

Word Count: 5,808

A/N: Updates should be once weekly. No set schedule. Flashbacks in italics, lyrics in bold. Song: Green Eyes by Jimmy Dorsey

Dean was walking you back to the hospital, your arm hooked through his as the two of you strolled along at a leisurely pace, neither of you ready for the night to end. 

"I, uh, I wrote you letters." he stammered out, breaking the silence. 

"Letters?" you asked, confused because you had never received any. "They must have gotten lost in the post. I never got them."

"Well, I...I never sent them." he admitted, a little embarrassed that he had brought it up at all. 

You chuckled, "Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" you teased, leaning into his side. 

He laughed under his breath, "You don't exactly have a permanent address." he said. 

"I'll give you that one. So, what did they say, the letters?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation going. 

Dean slowed down even more, the two of you now moving at a snail's pace, "Well, uh, a little bit of everything I guess." he said, coming to a stop in front of the stone steps of the hospital. 

You sat down on the steps, and patted the spot beside you, silently telling Dean to join you, "Care to elaborate?" you asked, as he sat down next to you. 

"Nothing interesting really, just day to day things, mostly about how bored I was in that hospital. I, uh, may have mentioned how much I missed you." he shyly said, hoping that you didn't find his confession strange. 

"You missed me?" you asked, a bright smile on your face. 

Dean chuckled, "Maybe a little." he said, not ready to admit that you were the only thing he could think about since the day he left you. 

"Well, I may have missed you a little too, Soldier." you said, gently patting his knee as you turned to face him. "How did you find me anyway?" you asked, genuinely curious about how he had managed to track you down. 

"I made a promise, remember." he said, not giving you a direct answer. 

You chuckled and nudged him with your shoulder, "It was an accident, wasn't it?" you asked, figuring the two of you just happened to be in the same place again and he stumbled upon you. 

"Not exactly. I had a feeling you would be there." he said, still not giving you any details. 

"A feeling?" you asked, looking up at him with one brow raised. 

"Ok, Benny may have had a lot to do with it." he admitted. 

"Benny? Mr. Lafitte, my patient?" you asked, confused as to how he could have anything to do with it. 

Dean nodded, "Yep, that's the guy." 

"Care to explain how a guy I have never met helped you find me?" you asked, looking up at him. 

"I came to see him. You know, just check up on him. He's in the same unit with me, and I just wanted to make sure that everything was ok. We got to talking and he started telling me about this pretty new nurse that had started a couple of days ago. He said she had the kind of smile that could warm a man to the bone just by lookin' at it, and at the time I had no idea it was you, but  your face popped into my head as soon as he said that." he explained, you nodding your head for him to continue. 

"I didn't want to get my hopes up. I knew the chance of it really being you was slim to none, but." he trailed off, the hint of a smile on his face. 

"But?" you asked, on the edge of your seat, desperate for him to continue. 

"But when he told me that she, the new nurse, hummed when she worked, and that every once in awhile he could hear her singing under her breath, part of me knew." he said, looking down at you. "Part of me knew it was you." 

You shook your head, "Plenty of people do that. Most of the nurses I work with do it. It's nothing special." you argued. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah, you're right, but I just had this feeling, so I asked him what song she was singing." he said. 

"And, what was this special song?" you asked. 

Dean laughed under his breath, "He didn't know." he said. 

"Of course." you said, a smile on your face as you shook your head. 

"But, he told me that he had heard her sing it enough to know a few lines." he said, keeping the song a mystery to you. 

"That still doesn't explain why you thought it was me." you said. 

He smiled down at you, "Because I heard you sing that song every night when you came to check on me. I think, you thought I was sleepin'." he chuckled, shaking his head at how ridiculous this all must sound to you. "You know, every night whenever I would hear footsteps headed my way I would close my eyes just in case it was you."

The corner of your mouth turned up into a half smile, "You could have talked to me, you know, or were you so eager to get rid of me that you resorted to pretending to be asleep just so I would leave?" you teasingly asked, trying to hide your embarrassment at being caught.

Dean quickly shook his head, scared that he offended you, "No, no, no, I looked forward to it. It was...I don't know, it was nice, and I've had that song stuck in my head since the day I  left there." he tried to explain, hoping that he was able to express how much he enjoyed it. 

You smiled softly at him, still a little embarrassed, "Well, Soldier, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I still don't understand why you thought you had to pretend to be asleep though." you said, laughing softly to yourself. 

"Cause that's the only time you'd sing it, only when you thought I wasn't listening. Every once in awhile I'd catch you hummin' it, but you would only sing when you thought I was sleeping." he said, inching a little closer to you on the step. 

You looked away from him, your embarrassment taking over, "I, uh, I don't know what to say. I'm a little embarrassed, I guess. I'm sure you think I'm..." you trailed off, not knowing exactly what  you wanted to say to describe what he must think of you. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, running his hands through his perfectly styled hair, mussing it up, "This isn't the way I hoped this would go. You've...you've been runnin' through my head for months, and I'm...I'm..."he breathed out before quickly adding, "Please, don't be embarrassed, Doll." 

You looked over at him, a smile spreading across your face as you took in the sight of him before you burst out into a fit of laughter, completely throwing him off. 

You raised your hand, and smoothed his hair back into place, Dean's eyes glued to you as he quickly decided to pull you to your feet, thinking that maybe it would be easier to show you how he felt than to describe it with words. 

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. You could feel his heart racing, pounding away in his chest, "Sing." he said, looking down at you as he pulled you closer towards him. 

"Dean." you sighed, shaking your head as you tried to pull your hand back, but he held it in place.

"Please." he said, thinking this was the only way to prove his point without words. 

You shook your head, "Fine." you sighed, before you softly started to sing the first verse of the song that had been stuck with you since you saw him, Dean starting to gently sway you back and forth. 

"Your green eyes with their soft lights, Your eyes that promise sweet nights, Bringing my soul a longing, a thirst for love devine. 

In my dreams, I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you, Our lips meet and our hearts too, with a thrill so sublime." 

"Don't stop." he said, when you started to trail off, his hand now resting on top of yours that was still on his chest. 

"Those cool and limpid green eyes, a pool where in my love lies, So deep that in my searching for happiness, I fear that they will ever haunt me, All through my life they'll taunt me, But will they ever want me? Green eyes make my dreams come true." 

You thought about stopping, but the look on his face, the slowing of his racing heart, and the feeling of being in his arms spurred you on. 

"Green eyes with their soft lights and eyes that promise sweet nights, Bring my soul a longing, a thirst for love devine.

In my dreams I seem to hold you, to find you and enfold you, Our lips meet and our hearts too, with a thrill so sublime. 

Those cool and limpid green eyes, A pool where in my love lies, So deep that in my searching for happiness, I fear that they will haunt me, All through my life they'll taunt me, But will they ever want me? Green eyes, I love you." you sang, letting your voice slowly fade out until the last word was nothing more than a mere whisper, the two of you still swaying back and forth, still dancing despite the lack of music. 

"When he told me it was that song...I knew without a doubt that it was my girl." he said, still holding your hand over his heart, the rhythm now slow and steady. 

You shook your head, "You're girl? That's crazy. This...this is crazy. You...we...we don't even really know each other." you said, your head swimming with a multitude of emotions. 

"I know it's crazy." he said, shaking his head at the ridiculous, but true things he was about to tell you. "Stuff like this only happens in the movies, but you can't tell me that you don't feel something too, like...like..." he said, not able to conjure up the right word. 

"Like a pull, a force." you finished for him, thinking back to the time you first saw him and the way you felt as if some invisible force had pulled you to him. 

Dean slowly nodded his head, relieved that you understood what he meant and didn't think he was completely mad, "I don't know what it is. I can't explain it. The only thing I know is that hearing your voice, playing those moments of being with you over in my head, these last few months have kept me going. Anytime I'm...scared or I need to drown out the...sounds, I close my eyes and I hear you, and this...this calm, peace hits me." he said, shaking his head, doing his best to put his feelings into words. "You're my peace, and I haven't felt that since I left home." 

You raised your other hand to his cheek and he leaned into your touch, "I thought I was going mad. I couldn't understand how I could miss someone and want them so badly. Someone that was, in all reality, a complete stranger to me, but I did, I do." you said, feeling like the two of you were performing in some romantic Hollywood film as two people who realized that they were destined to be together. 

"Your eyes do haunt me. Every night since you left they are the only thing I can see when I close my eyes, and I just kept hoping that I would wake up one morning and you would be there, but I never thought...I never thought it would really happen." you said, pressing your hand into his chest, needing to feel that he was real, that he was actually there and not some figment of your imagination, some dream. 

You closed your eyes and concentrated on the beating of his heart, each beat proving that he was real, that he was there with you. 

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes, looking up into the green eyes that had haunted you for months, "You came back to me, Soldier." you said, a bright smile on your face as you echoed the words you had said to him on the day you found him. 

He pulled your body flush with his, absolutely no space left between the two of you, "I'll always come back to you." he said before leaning down to kiss you. 

The moment your lips met his he swore to himself that no matter what happened he would do whatever he had to do to make sure that statement always rang true. He would always come back to you. 

You broke the kiss and looked up at him, "Promise me." you whispered, knowing that you could trust him to keep his word. 

He stared into your eyes, pure adoration in his, "I promise." he said, setting it in stone, knowing that the only thing that could keep him from you was death, but as he looked down at you, your face lighting up in a smile at his promise he knew that not even the finality of death would be a deal breaker for him. No, he decided right then that not even Death himself could keep him from you. 

And so it began, the whirlwind romance that would forever change your life. Dean was your heart, walking around outside of your body. He was that little piece of you that had been missing, that little piece of you that completed you and made you whole. 

You had never believed in the whole idea of soulmates. In fact, the idea had always seemed utterly ridiculous to you. The fact that two people could be meant to be, made for each other was something that little girls read about in storybooks. It was a fairy tale that didn't happen in real life, to real people, but as you looked up into his eyes, those green eyes you had longed to see for months, you knew, right then, that soulmates were real, and that you had found yours. 

Benny knocked on your closed bedroom door again, a little louder this time, "Chere, you got to get up." he called out, only to be met with silence from your side. 

He knew you were home. He had heard you come in last night, so he tried again, knocking for the third time, "Y/N, I know you're in there. I'm coming in." he warned, giving you a few moments to make yourself decent. 

Benny eased the door open and poked his head inside to see you lying on your side facing away from him. 

"Y/N." he said, slowly walking towards you, knowing from experience not to make any sudden movements. 

"Come on, Chere." he said, easing himself gently down on the edge of your bed, his stomach churning at your lack of movement. 

He started to reach out for you, his hand slowly moving towards your body when you drew a deep breath, relief hitting him instantly at the fact that you were still breathing. 

You slowly turned over, facing his direction, knowing that refusing to acknowledge him was going to do nothing but cause you unneeded problems. 

Benny gave  you a weak smile when your eyes finally found his, "You had me worried there for a minute." he admitted as he quickly scanned over what parts of your body he could see, looking for any obvious signs of injury. 

Guilt immediately washed over you. He was so scared that one day he would walk in to find you lifeless. He had told you this many times, especially since your drinking had increased. Your heart ached for the pain and worry you must cause him on a daily basis. 

You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him, "Let's go somewhere, Benny." you managed to say, an almost blank expression on your face. 

Benny was silent for a few moments, your statement not one that he was expecting. "We do have somewhere to go, Chere...work." he said, thinking that you may have forgotten. You had a habit of getting your days mixed up. 

"No, not there. Let's go somewhere else, somewhere far away from here." you said, your voice so lifeless and monotone. 

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, looking down at you with concern.

"Anywhere...anywhere that's not here. I can't be here anymore, Benny." you said, trying your best to keep emotion out of your voice and off of  your face, also choosing not to go into any detail about why you wanted to leave so badly. 

Benny sighed, fearing that you were going to suggest that the two of you go out and look for Dean. It was something that you always seemed to bring up every few months after one of your rough nights. 

"Y/N, we...we don't have the money to go lookin' for him. Plus, we said it's better if we stay in one place. You told him where you wanted to go after...after everything over there was finished. It would be easier for him to come to us." he said, trying to gently talk you down. 

"I don't want to go look for him. I...I know, we'd never find, but I don't want to stay here anymore either. I can't. Dean's dead, Benny. He isn't going to come looking for us. He isn't going to find us, and I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for something that is never going to happen. I know that now. I can't stay here waiting for a ghost. I...I just need to get out of here. Take me away from here." you said, your desperation to flee slipping into your words. 

Benny slowly shook his head, going over his words carefully in his head, trying to come up with something that would inflict the least amount of damage on your already fragile state, "Y/N, where would we go? What would we do? I...I know you don't like workin' for Crowley. I don't either, but it's a steady job that we're both gettin' paid for. We...we just can't afford to pack up and leave right now, and I know, you don't want to hear it, but we don't know for sure if he's..." he said, deciding not to finish his thought when he saw disappointment flash across  your face. "But, how about we stick it out for a little while longer? Save up some money and then we can go anywhere you want to go. We can go look for him." he added, feeling guilty about upsetting you. 

You could feel your chest tightening as the thought of being trapped here entered your mind. You knew that if you told him the real reason that you wanted to leave he wouldn't hesitate to take you away from there in an instant, but you also didn't know what he would try to do to Crowley when he heard the news. Crowley was untouchable, and you knew that any attempt that Benny made to exact any sort of revenge would likely end badly for him. 

You swallowed around the lump that was forming in your throat, part of you still so tempted to tell him, but the other, more logical part knew that the consequences wouldn't be worth it, so you nodded your head in agreement with him, your stomach churning with the thought of having to face Crowley again. 

Benny could tell by looking at you that you weren't happy with the decision the two of you had reached. "It won't be long, Chere." he said, trying to cheer you up. 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, your eyes glassy with tears as you pushed yourself into an upright position. "I better get ready, then." you said, Benny standing up and walking towards your door to allow you to dress.

You pulled yourself together as quickly as you could and met Benny by the door, trying your best to act as if nothing was wrong. 

"You ok, Chere?" Benny asked as you stepped out the door. 

You had your back turned to him, while he locked the apartment door, "Mmm hmm." you hummed out, jumping when you felt his hand on your shoulder. 

"Hey, hey , hey it's just me." he said in an easy manner, trying not to spook you. 

"You...you started me." you said, trying to pull yourself together. 

"Y/N, are you sure..." he tried to ask, but you cut him off, not wanting to get into it with him. 

"I'm fine, Benny. I'm just tired." you lied, although it wasn't an out right lie. You were tired, tired of fighting, tired of struggling, tired of trying to hold yourself together when the only thing you wanted to do was fall apart. So, yeah, saying you were tied wasn't a complete lie. 

He didn't ask you anymore questions, even when he wanted to. He knew that something was wrong. He could tell something was off about you the minute he walked into your room, your feelings about needing to run away and the way you flinched away from him as he pulled you into his side on your walk to the club, a move he had done countless times, proved his point. 

As badly as he wanted to ask you what was wrong, force some sort of answer from you, he knew you well enough to know that you would talk when you were ready, or when you were too drunk to hold it in anymore. 

He released his hold on you as he pulled open the door of the club for you. He escorted you down the steps, his hand on your lower back as he led you through the main room. 

He watched as you broke away from him and made a mad dash to the bar, thinking he may not have to wait very long to learn your secrets after all, especially if he didn't cut you off soon. 

He took a seat next to you at the bar as you picked up your glass and slammed back your second drink of the night, the first one gone before you even sat down, and slid it back across the bar towards the bartender, signaling for a refill. 

Benny thought about telling you to slow down, going so far as to lean over to you so that he could whisper to you without anyone else at the bar overhearing, but Crowley's entrance into the bar stopped him, and he pulled away from you. He knew that dealing with Crowley, and listening to him tell you to cut back would probably be too much for you right now. 

"There you are, Kitten." Crowley said, as he came to a stop beside you, running his hand down your arm. "You're getting a little close to your dog, aren't you? You didn't lie to me when I asked you about him? Sure you aren't throwing him a bone every now and then?" he asked you, his fingers still running up and down your arm. 

"No." you clipped out, doing everything you could not to recoil from his touch. 

Crowley looked over at Benny, who was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything, "Although, I couldn't blame you for trying, Dog. She is a remarkable creature." he said, his eyes on Benny as he started to run his fingers up your arm, across you shoulder, and up your neck. "Such perfect skin, so soft, delicate. Well, if you don't count that ghastly scar. It really does mess up the canvas, a rather unsightly blemish on an otherwise perfect piece of art. At least she has other more appealing assets to look at, to distract away from that jagged mess. Don't you agree, Dog?" he asked, knowing that he was getting under Benny's skin, always enjoying taunting people. 

You could almost feel Benny vibrating with rage, and you subtly dropped your hand from the bar and grabbed onto his knee, warning him to keep himself under control. 

"I wouldn't know." Benny said, trying his best to remain calm. 

Crowley let out a full belly laugh, his entire body shaking, "Come on now, Dog. You can tell me." he laughed out, still trying to get a rise out of him. 

Benny remained silent. He knew the scar Crowley was talking about. Dean had told him that story, confided in him after it had happened, and the fact that Crowley had seen it could only mean one thing. The longer he sat there thinking about the ways he could have seen it the more his blood began to boil. 

Crowley could tell just how much he was effecting him, and he knew it wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge. He kept his eyes on Benny as he slowly trailed his fingers from the side of your neck to your chin, stopping just under your bottom lip before slowly dragging them lower, down your throat, stopping them just at the top of your cleavage. 

"You can't tell me that you haven't fantasized about our little Kitten.  That you haven't thought about what she would feel like pressed up against you, or wondered how her soft skin would feel under those brutish hands of yours." he said, his eyes never leaving Benny. "Perhaps, you've been a bad dog, and even thought about that sweet little spot between her legs." he added, his hand starting to trail down your body. "Maybe you've wondered if it's just as pretty as she is." he said. 

You tightened your grip on his knee, your nails digging into him, urging him to stay put, to not say anything. You cleared your throat, catching Crowley's attention, but doing nothing to stop him from the game he was playing. 

You shifted in your seat, "Suddenly, I feel as though I might be sick." you said, trying to say anything to get him to stop without a fight breaking out. 

Crowley removed his hand from you, "Well, we can't have that, Kitten." he said, grabbing your chin, turning your head so that you were facing him. "Go home and get some rest, my sweet." he added before finally pulling his hand away from you. 

You started to protest, knowing that you needed the money now more than ever, your escape from that retched place the only thing you could focus on. You started to open your mouth to speak, but Crowley placed his finger on your lips, shushing you. 

"Of course, you'll still be paid in full. I have to keep you well and happy, Kitten. You can even take your dog with you. I'll be sure he is compensated in full as well." he said. 

You nodded your head, and you released your grip on Benny's knee as you started to stand from your seat, ready to be as far away from that place as you could be. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Kitten. Have you still not learned how important it is to show appreciation when someone does something nice for you? I thought, surely after last night you would have figured it out, but perhaps, you need further instruction." he said, the thought of last night and the threat of more encounters with him sent a shiver down your spine. 

"Thank you, Sir." you said, looking him directly in the eye. "I appreciate everything that you have done for me, for us." you said, standing up tall, trying to hold on to what little dignity you had left. 

Crowley gave you a small smile and nodded his head before raising his hand to his cheek and tapping it with his finger. You forced yourself to smile at him before leaning over and pressing your lips to his cheek, the drinks you had tossed back rising up your throat, threatening to come back up. 

You pulled back and took a couple of steps back, bumping into Benny as he stood from his seat. Crowley eyed him, "You know, you could take a lesson in politeness yourself, dog. You should be thanking me." he said, his eyes narrowing at Benny. 

You brought your hand around your back, blindly searching until you found his, clenched in a fist at his side. You squeezed his hand, begging him to just go along with Crowley. 

"Thank you, Sir." he finally said, his tone somewhat hostile. 

"See, that wasn't so hard now was it, dog? You be sure to get my little Kitten home safe." he said, giving you one final pat on the cheek before walking away. 

You held your breath until he was out of your sight. Benny grabbed your hand, forcing you to draw a breath as he pulled you from the club. The two of you didn't speak on the walk home. You were too busy just trying to focus on your next breath, and Benny was currently beating himself up for not protecting you. He should have known. He never should have let that happen. He had promised Dean that he would watch out for you, keep you safe, and he had failed you both. 

The two of you walked inside of your apartment in complete silence, neither one of you knowing what to say to the other. Was there anything you could say? Nothing would change what happened. There were no words that would take it away. 

You shivered as you came to a stop in front of your bedroom door, the heat was out, again. You pushed open the door and listened to Benny's footsteps as he went across the hall to his room, stepping inside when you heard his door close behind him. You dressed for bed before grabbing the few spare blankets you kept in the closet and climbing into bed, covering yourself with them to attempt to fight off the chill in the room. 

About thirty minutes later you heard a soft knock at your door and you sat up in bed before telling him to come in. You watched as he eased open the door, but didn't step inside. He just stood there as if he were waiting for permission to come in. 

"I said you could come in." you said, scooting over to the side of the bed to make room for him. 

Benny looked down at his feet and sighed, "Chere, I'm...I'm so." he tried to say before you cut him off. 

"Get in here, Benny." you said, knowing you couldn't handle an apology from him, not when he did nothing wrong. 

He looked up at you, tears in his eyes, his shoulders slumped in defeat. You shook your head and took a deep breath. You hated that he was blaming himself. You started to say something when you noticed the bottle clutched in his hand. You pulled back the covers and gestured for him to join you. He hesitated a moment before taking a tentative step in your direction. 

He finally made his way to you, neither one of you saying a word as he climbed into bed beside you, his back resting against the headboard as he passed the bottle to you. You took it from him and took a long pull from the bottle before passing it back and laying your head against his shoulder. 

The two of you sat in silence for what felt like forever, the only sounds in the room were the covers shifting with movement and the sound of liquid sloshing around in the bottle. 

Benny finally broke the silence, "I'm getting us out of here. I promise...somehow I'll get us out of here." he softly said. 

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, "You were right before. We don't have enough money to run anywhere." you said, trying to ease the pressure he was feeling to find some place else to go. 

"I don't care. We're leaving. You're never going back there." he said, looking straight ahead. 

"Let's give it a week. We'll get paid again in a week, and then we can go. We'll have a little bit of money and we can go." you finally said. 

"No, you're not." he got out before you interrupted. 

"You were right, Benny. We can't run if we don't have any money. I've made it this long I can last another week." you said, knowing that you would need as much money as you could get your hands on to get as far away as possible. 

Benny sighed, "I still think we should just go. We've made it before and we'll do it again." he said, the thought of you walking back into the club making him sick to his stomach. 

"No, I want to get as far away from here as we can, and we can't do that with what we have now." you said. 

"A week. As soon as we get paid we're gone." Benny said, still not able to look at you. 

"As soon as we get paid we're gone." you echoed, the room quickly falling back into silence. 

"Did...did he...hurt you?" Benny finally stammered out, needing to know the answer even though he didn't think he could stand to hear it. 

You took a deep breath, "Physically, no." you finally said before turning to look up at him. "But what little bit of me that was left, broke. I haven't been able to breathe for year, Benny. I've been struggling to keep my head above water, fighting everyday to not slip below the surface, but that...that pushed me under, and now I'm so far down that I don't think I'll ever see the light of day again." you said, managing to keep your tears at bay. You were so tired of crying. You were just so tired. "I thought losing him would be the most painful part. I thought that over time I could somehow put myself back together, heal, but I was wrong. Losing him wasn't the hardest part. The hardest part is living everyday without him, especially when I know how much he would hate what I have become. What I have made the both of us become. We aren't living, Benny. I'm killing both of us by holding on so tightly to him, by refusing to let go, and I can't...I can't do it anymore. I have to let go, I know I do. It's time." you said, causing Benny to tighten  his grip on your hand. 

"I just want to be able to breathe again." you said, hoping that he understood your meaning. 

Benny nodded his head, taking your words to heart, "You just promise me that you'll keep breathing, Chere, one breath at a time, and I'll do everything I can to make it easier." 

Tags: @flamencodiva @divadinag @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @superflurry​

[justlightlysedated]

the keeper of the galaxy; millions of planets in the universe and you had to crash land on mine

Alex leans forward, pressing his forehead to his knees and breathes in deeply.

The stale air inside of the Airstream smells heavily of Michael and it helps calm Alex’s nerves.

He wraps his hand around the smooth silver stone that hangs from the necklace that Jim had given him as a graduation present that he’s never taken off, and it helps calm him down a little bit more.

It’s one of the only things in this world that soothes his nerves that doesn’t have anything to do with Michael.

He smooths his thumb over the stone and sighs, pressing his forehead harder to his knees before he leans back up, tucking the necklace back beneath his shirt.

Alex doesn’t look at his watch again because he really doesn’t want to know how long he’s been waiting.

He’ll wait all night if he has to.

He figures that if there is any truth to the statement that Michael and the Evans twins are related then maybe he went to tell them about his mom, or their mom.

He lies his hand against the stone and feels it warm against his chest and tries to breathe through his nerves.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to have this conversation with Michael.

It is long overdue, but he’s afraid that it’s going to just make everything worse.

He feels like after everything that happened today, and after finding out that his father killed Jim, this isn’t the thing that’s going to go right.

But still, Alex also feels that if he doesn’t do this right now, he’ll lose his chance forever.

The door is opened almost too violently, making the Airstream rock alarmingly, and startling Alex to his feet and shooting adrenaline through his system.

He’s reaching for his service weapon before he remembers that he’s off duty, and even if he was on duty he’s basically discharged from active duty meaning he’s not allowed a weapon unless it’s a special occasion.

The person who walks into the Airstream like they own the place and starts rifling through Michael’s desk muttering under his breath is Noah.

Alex furrows his brow, and he knows objectively, that Noah has been around for a while given that he’s Isobel’s husband, and maybe he does this all the time and Alex has just never been here for it, but something about this whole thing feels off.

A feeling that gets stronger, when Noah raises a hand in the air, and Alex can see the blood stained on his fingers and on the sleeve of his shirt.

He would be more worried about that, but if Alex has learned one thing during his time in Project Shepherd, is that anyone can be an alien, and not all aliens are like Michael. And while he hopes that he’s wrong, he’d prefer to get a call from Michael about attacking his brother in law than being dead because he let his guard down.

Alex takes a step back getting into an easily defendable position.

The move makes enough noise that Noah finally catches on to the fact that he’s not alone.

He turns around fast and Alex is glad for just this second that he and Michael have never really gone public with their relationship, because it’s obvious that Noah hadn’t been expecting anyone, and even if he was, he wasn’t expecting Alex.

He uses the shock that briefly freezes him, and rushes forward, pushing Noah back against the desk, and running down the stairs that lead out of the Airstream.

He stumbles and slides and has to hold on to the side of the Airstream briefly so that he doesn’t fall down because it would be a bitch to get up again.

The rain starts falling and Alex curses as he hurries to his car.

He’s almost to it, and the rain is just starting to get harder, when every single muscle in his body locks and stops, freezing him to the spot.

Alex inhales sharply and tries to move and he can’t.

Fuck, he hated being right.

He’s turned around against his will, and he grits his teeth, clenching his jaw, and glares as Noah stands in front of him giving him a curious look that Alex has seen on the faces of cartoon movie villains.

“Now, I would ask what you’re doing here, but it’s obvious now that you’re the reason Michael hasn’t been getting into any bar fights recently.”

Alex bites down on his tongue and doesn’t say anything.

“Or is he really trying to change to be more appealing to the bartender?”

He says, and his eyes narrow in satisfaction when Alex can’t help but react to that.

He moves his hand and Alex takes several steps forward.

He clenches his jaw, and breathes hard, but doesn’t say anything.

“Michael has something that I need,” he says stepping closer to Alex, and Alex tries not to let the insidious fear and dread seep into him when his hand starts glowing red. “And I think I just found my leverage to get it from him.”

Before Alex can say anything, Noah presses his hand over Alex’s mouth.

Alex feels a spike of intense heat that seeps through him alarmingly, and then the whole world goes black.

**

Alex is brought back to consciousness the same way he was dragged under, fast and sudden, with a spike of heat right in the crook of his neck.

The pain is intense enough that Alex can’t help the whimper that escapes his throat, even as he tries to not make a sound.

“Stop!” Michael’s voice is low and painful and he sounds like he’s been yelling and crying.

Alex can’t help the way that he instinctively feels safe when Michael is around and how that makes him lower his guard, and when the pain intensifies, Alex cries out with it, moving his hand to wrap his fingers around Noah’s wrist to try and pull it away from his neck.

“I already told you,” Michael is yelling sounding desperate. “I. Don’t. Know.”

“I don’t believe you,” Noah says simply, letting Alex go.

Alex falls back down on the muddy ground, and he takes one second to breathe in and try to calm himself before he exhales and opens his eyes.

They’re still at the junkyard, he can see the Saul’s Auto sign out of the corner of his eye, and the metal structure where several hubcaps are swinging alarmingly with the wind and rain.

“The planet is protected by wrath,” Noah says and it sounds like something he’s heard over and over. “They made sure to put it in your hands even though you were newly born again. You might not remember what it is, but you would feel the importance of it. You would’ve never given it away or allowed it to be taken from you.”

“We were found with nothing!” Michael says and he sounds exhausted.

Alex turns his head towards him to find him standing several feet away as though he’s stuck there, hands clenched into fist, body vibrating with the tension. His eyes are glued to Alex, and he doesn’t look away when Alex’s eyes find his.

Alex swallows hard when he sees the dried blood on his neck and shirt.

Noah’s hands reach for him, and Alex sees how Michael moves forward and then stops, fingers clenching tighter into fists.

“Leave him alone!” Michael demands, and Noah laughs hauling Alex up to his feet as though he weighs nothing.

He tugs Alex against him, when Alex sways on his feet, a hot hand pressed to his neck, the pain burns through him again, but Alex is prepared for it this time, gritting his teeth against it, shutting his eyes tight and clenching his fists.

The pain intensifies, feeling like every single one of his nerve endings is on fire, and Alex is prepared to deal with a lot, but when the pain ignites down his right leg, it freaks him out, like it always does.

Alex gasps and whimpers low in his throat trying to get away.

“Noah, please,” Michael says desperately, begging. “If I had it, I would give it to you, I swear! But I don’t have it!”

“It’s small, silver, almost the size of a walnut, smooth and shiny. An attention deficit brat like you were, you would’ve never let it out of your sight.”

The whole world slows and seems to narrow down to Alex’s pulse thundering in his temples, and pounding against the silver stone hanging from his neck.

“If someone had tried to take it from you, you would’ve fought hard, even if you didn’t know what it was. You would’ve hidden it somewhere safe.”

Alex tries to remember if Jim ever told him where he’d gotten the necklace from, but he can’t recall. Everything from the Summer of 08 takes a backseat to what happened with Michael.

“You’re smart and clever, wrath. You have to know that I really don’t care. If the soldier won’t make you give up the answers, I’ll go to the bartender next. And if that doesn’t work, there are many things I have yet to do to your dear sweet, Isobel.”

Michael makes an enraged noise and the air ripples dangerously around him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Noah says and pulls Alex closer. “You have no finesse. If you try to hurt me, you’ll end up hurting him as well.”

Alex looks at Michael trying to tell him that he doesn’t care, but Michael deflates immediately.

“I swear to you, if you k-” Michael cuts himself off and shakes his head, before he takes a step forward. “If you hurt him in anyway that is permanent, I swear, I will kill you.”

“You won’t,” Noah says sounding secure of himself. “Maybe the old you would have, but growing up on this useless planet has made you too soft.”

Michael swallows hard.

Alex feels Noah’s hand move down, and he knows, he knows that this is the end.

He can feel it.

Noah is going to kill him.

He looks at Michael, and there are so many things he wishes that he could say, so many things that he wishes that he could do.

But there is one thing that he desperately needs Michael to know.

“I shouldn’t have left you behind when I joined the Air Force,” he gasps out and sees how Michael’s face goes slack with shock at the words.

Noah snorts in what sounds like amusement.

“Touching,” he says and Alex sees how Michael builds his wall back up.

He closes his eyes as Noah’s hand presses over his heart, right on top of the silver stone.

“Trauma has a way of blocking our memories, but recreating the moment of trauma might just unblock them again. Losing someone you love might do the trick.”

“No!” Michael yells moving forward, but Alex can feel the searing heat of Noah’s palm sinking into him, the way it makes his heart beat faster and faster like a heart attack, the way it feels like his organs are melting.

He can taste blood, thick and hot in the back of his throat.

Just when Michael is about to reach them, Alex feels something icy cool, right against his chest, a bright spot of cold against the burning heat.

And then a wave of something expands from Alex’s chest and pushes outwards and both Noah and Michael go flying backwards as Alex falls to his knees.

Alex presses his hand over his chest and he feels the coolness of the smooth silver stone.

Well, it looks like when Jim told him that he gave it to him to keep it safe in his letter, he didn’t mean the piece of alien spaceship that Alex has inside of a bag tucked underneath his bed.

“Alex!” Michael’s voice is desperate and hoarse and Alex looks up to see him falling to his knees in front of him. His eyes are wide and red rimmed and bright with unshed tears and his hair is plastered to his head by the rain, and Alex realizes that it is raining, harder than before.

He’d forgotten all about it.

Alex feels a strange sense of rage sweep through him, hot and bitter before it disappears fast and sudden leaving behind confusion.

“Are you okay?” he asks breathless, hands reaching to check Alex over himself.

Alex is glad because he tilts forward in that moment, and turns his head to the side spitting up blood.

“I think I’m dying,” Alex says slowly and loses all the strength in his body, leaning heavily against Michael.

His insides feel like they’re made of mush, and he feels a stab of satisfaction and makes a face.

“Where is Noah?” he asks, but Michael isn’t listening to him.

He’s making Alex lie back down on the muddy ground, and leaning over him.

His eyes are glazed over, and he looks like he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing.

Alex feels a stab of fear that’s all him. Noah can possess people.

The fear turns to outright dread when Michael’s hands start glowing red.

“Michael,” he manages to say, a low whimper caught in his throat.

Michael’s eyes find his, and then before Alex can do anything to stop him, his hands are on either side of Alex’s neck, pressing against where he can still feel Noah’s hand burning against his skin.

Instead of heat, icy coolness matching the way the stone felt against his skin, seeps into him, rushing through him in ripples that chase away the pain.

Michael’s hands slide up to the back of his head, and he leans down pressing his forehead to Alex’s, and Alex’s eyes fall shut.

He sees flashes of things that shouldn’t be possible, endless stars flashing across his vision, a blonde woman with a bright smile taking what looks like a large colorful marble from his hands, I’ll keep it safe for now, walking away from the three bright egglike looking pods, a strange symbol that he couldn’t stop drawing everywhere, a hand in his hair pulling hand, a burning in his arm as the priest pressed the hot metal crucifix against his skin, The power of Christ compels you, moving sand to cover the dead body on the floor, and then Alex sees himself, a smile, dark lined eyes, black painted fingernails, fingers wrapped around the fret of a guitar, I go there when things get bad, a kiss, a feeling like everything is finally making sense, the bright hot flash of pain as the bones in his hand are shattered, Isobel eyes wide and scared, a car engulfed in flames, and Alex again, tears staining his cheeks, a feeling like nothing is ever going to be okay again, Don’t go, don’t go, don’t g-

Michael pulls away from him gasping, and Alex hears him throw up and turns to the side and tries to breathe.

“Fuck,” Michael breathes sounding hoarse. “That was not fun.”

“I didn’t know you could heal,” Alex says as he leans up on his elbows feeling like he could use a nap, but mostly uncomfortable now that he wasn’t distracted by the sensation of his organs shutting down with the rain still falling over them and the way his clothes was sticking to his skin.

“Neither did I,” Michael says leaning back on his heels and looking back at Alex, just as tired as Alex feels.

Alex inhales, “Listen-”

“Maybe we sho-” Michael starts and stops.

Instead of saying anything else, Alex sits up, and Michael leans back a little bit to give him space.

Alex tugs the necklace out from beneath his shirt and wraps his fingers around the stone before he lets it drop against his chest.

He hears Michael inhale sharply.

“Jim gave it to me as a graduation present,” Alex says as Michael’s gaze is caught by the stone. “In the letter he sent me before he died, he told me that he’d given me something to keep safe, and I thought he meant something else, but what if this is what Noah was looking for?”

Michael licks his lips and looks up into Alex’s eyes. “He said it was a planet. The planet. Our planet.”

Alex swallows and wraps his fingers around the stone again, lifting his hand up and cradling it in the palm of his hand so that they both could see it.

The rain water fills his palm and spills across his fingers.

“Anything is possible,” Alex says slowly.

Michael doesn’t say anything, but he reaches out carefully as though he’s afraid to touch it, and presses the pads of his fingers against the metal.

Alex feels the way it heats up against his hand and gasps.

The metal melts away into nothing revealing behind the same colorful marble that the blonde woman in the flashes of memories he’d gotten from Michael had taken from him.

It’s blue and red and purple and green and white all swirling together beautifully.

Alex feels it vibrating slightly against his skin as though it’s buzzing in anticipation, and then it stops when Michael moves his hand away.

“It’s never done that before,” Alex says a little uselessly.

Michael just rolls his eyes and Alex lifts the stone up closer to his face.

He can see the white just slightly moving like mist, like clouds.

“Holy shit,” Alex breathes.

Michael makes a noise and Alex looks at him and freezes and the look on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then a shiver racks through him reminding him that he’s still sitting out in the mud in the rain.

Alex doesn’t know what kind of face he makes, but Michael just stands up reaching out for Alex’s hand.

Alex lets Michael tug him to his feet, and lets Michael tug him back towards the Airstream.

“I’ll get you something dry to wear,” Michael says as he pushes Alex towards the small bathroom area.

Alex stops him before he gets too far. “Listen,” he says again. “I meant it what I said before with Noah.”

Michael looks at him in silence for a few minutes. “Why did you come here tonight?”

Alex swallows hard and shrugs helplessly. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you that I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

He shakes his head and lets Michael go and looks away for a second before he looks back at Michael, clenching his jaw. “I could stand here and say that I didn’t want to go, but I did. After what my father did to you,” he sees the way that Michael clenches his hand.

He swallows hard and continues. “I wanted to be the kind of person who could win battles. It felt good.”

Michael’s brow is furrowed, but he hasn’t stopped listening, so Alex keeps going.

“But lately I feel like I’m not even myself, and I look in the mirror and all I see is his face.”

Michael shakes his head, his eyes going soft and bright, and Alex keeps going before he can say anything.

“I’m still fighting his battles, not mine,” he finishes swallowing hard.

Michael’s face goes slack with the surprise as he understands what Alex is trying to tell him, and Alex’s eyes dart down to his mouth, and he thinks that maybe after the day they’ve both had, they could use something that felt good instead of painful.

Alex moves forward, reaching for Michael, and Michael inhales sharply, leaning into him before Alex even touches him.

And then he’s falling forward, eyes falling shut as he reaches for Alex, and clenches his fingers tight in the fabric of his jacket.

He gasps out in pain, and Alex scrambles to hold on to him as staggers forward.

Alex feels an urgent feeling sweep through him, a manic restlessness that he knows won’t go away until he sees whoever it is that’s causing it.

“Isobel,” Michael gasps, his eyes opening wide. “I have to go.”

He scrambles backwards towards the door, and Alex reaches for him before he can get too far. “Wait, what about-?”

Michael’s eyes fall to the stone hanging from Alex’s neck, and Alex still feels the restless feeling that he knows is all Michael, but something sweet slides through him, that makes him close his eyes as Michael moves in close.

He grabs the stone once again, and Alex flutters his eyes open in time to see Michael pressing a kiss to the marble, his eyes wide and on Alex’s.

“I know it’s safe with you,” he whispers, and then leans forward, sudden, pressing a sharp hard kiss over Alex’s mouth before he pulls back, too fast for Alex to do anything about it.

“I’ll be back, just get dry and warm, and don’t go anywhere.”

Alex swallows and he wants to protest, but he knows that he won’t do any good if things get to a confrontation, not with the way he still feels spasms of pain radiating down his right leg. 

So just nods his head. “Be careful.”

Michael smiles, and Alex feels his heart thud hard in his chest. “I promise.”

He looks down at the stone, the planet one more time and shakes his head as though he can’t believe it, and then he’s gone.

Alex stays still listening to the sound of the truck as it starts up and drives away with an ugly sounding squeal of tires revving hard through mud.

Alex inhales deeply and presses his hand over the stone. It still feels as smooth as before, but warmer, more like how Michael feels.

He closes his eyes and tries to calm down, and he can feel a low baseline of rage right against the back of his head, that he knows is Noah, but he can also feel a stronger wavelength of determination and pure adrenaline that he knows is Michael.

He swallows hard and turns towards Michael’s closet.

Might as well follow directions since there was nothing else he could do but wait.

[momo-de-avis]

Wordtober Day 1: Ring

(Read it with the most annoyingly girlish voice you can imagine for extra effect.)

He sleeps in an alcove made only for lovers.

I see his chest rising softly in a steady breath, fingers placidly placed upon the covers, between which one tiny golden circlet glimmers. There is no light, but it somehow gilds over the dark still, as if it means for me to watch it. A silent calling, perhaps. Like the faintest wheezing of a distant breeze, carrying something of an omen.

It is supposed to be the holiest of nights, of purity and sanctity between the union of hearts. It is supposed to be shrouded in white and pulsating red of virginal bliss and consuming passion. Yet something casts a shadow over it, as if a cloud engulfed the sun. It has been here all day long. I felt it calling, leering at me in the corners, snickering in the cold that wasn’t here before. It has enticed me, seduced me long ago. A part of me wanted to see the whiteness of my veil or the carmine glow of the wet roses, but all my eyes could capture was this looming shadow ever so present. Some might say it was the devil. But I think the brilliance of being is bound to create some darkness, someday.

I saw the light in that altar. It shined through the windows in rays of blue and red, imperial and celestial, painting the walls a heavenly sight, and then the murmurs rose to a soft purring of happiness, voices lilting across in a mellifluous tune to celebrate the bliss of our union, a choir of weeping angels coming together to blow their trumpets before the finality of our merging, singing – what?

The trumpets aren’t supposed to sound at the end, they’re supposed to sound at the beginning. Right?

But they blared, still. I could hear them, between the chuckles of the priest and his words of order, a rhythm of command in his voice – I!, declare you!, husband!, and!, wife! – and on his face, between the creases of his skin, flapping their tiny feet against his wrinkles, I saw tiny critters gushing past his authority, composing a sight of something… comforting. They drew lines of disavowal, twisting and contorting the features of this man, this earthly mediator of Heaven and Earth, but as discreet as something caught from the corner of the eye. Like asking a child who ate the chocolate cookies, only to see a chocolate chip dangling from the tip of his nose as he shakes his head – I am not responsible for this disaster. Indeed, he wasn’t. He didn’t even eat the cookies.

Some will say the ceremony was beautiful. That, from the tallest ceiling, came the resonance of an emotional sigh, and on the red carpets I walked on, a million tears of joy had fallen. Some might even say it is impossible to understand. But to embrace the gold of light, the frailty of brilliance, one must see where its shadows dance. Some might say it was a sunny day, filled with light and beauty, yet I saw something dark ever-present.

The last remnant of gold, of course, lies in our fingers.

Now, he sleeps. It is the night of our union, and his chest raises softly in the steady breathing of a husband. I stand to my feet and look between my fingers, where that streak of gold remains, as if all light of our lives together – how long?, twelve hours? – is contained in this tiny streak that begins to blind me.

I have waited my whole life for this, though I was convinced it was something else I was waiting for. I laughed at the prospect of it, let my cheeks grow red in excitement as I started planning it from a little girl’s age. I rejoiced in dressing my dolls in white and ripping fabrics apart to wrap around my head and say, oh, what a beautiful veil! I played with rings on my fingers before, too – imagining they were gold, that they bore a seal to it, a contract officiated by God, under His ceiling, before His son -- and to my feet, weeping women bowed in adoration, envious of my beauty, of my conquest, of the beginning of my new chapter. I wailed at the prospect of it taking so long to happen, and I evaluated every suitor under the guise of his competence before the task. And I chose one. Then I laughed and danced and screeched at the ring placed on my finger and I shared that joy with all others who wanted the same – these perfidious hens in a coop, screeching, and screeching, and screeching – until my ears bled from the joy I had to partake in, and my eyes wouldn’t close again, glued open forever to see what they saw, and my lips froze into a permanent smile, and my teeth glowed as white as my future dress.

And then, there I was. A bride. Covered in white lace, holding on to a bouquet of gerberas and gladioluses, parading like the princess these hens had insisted I should have become, the projected dream of a collective conscience that sang and sang and sang about a happiness they always knew better than me. But truth is, I was happy. I steered myself down the aisle like a vessel searching for the end of the horizon, and by the time I stood by his side, and his limp hand touched mine, I had already seen them; I had invited them in. Those blind shadows. They had been waiting for me.

And now, he sleeps, and I lay awake. He splays his hand on the covers to show me that ring, that golden circlet that wraps around his finger like a shackle, and I can see the chain rising up to mine, to my golden circlet. Marriage is a contract. Marriage is a union. Marriage is consummation. Marriage is a symbiosis of white and red, of bright and darkness, of light and its shadows.

Gently, I take the ring off. It feels light, like it’s made of paper, and I feel I could crumple it with two fingers. But it falls steadily on my hand. It pulsates in gold, shining vividly on my palm, and it sings to my ears. We are united, it says. We are united. We are united.

I tilt my head when it moves, and shadows dance around it, like a figure that grows from under its circling line, daring to break free. It expands. Slowly. Slowly. Ever so slowly. It grows, and I watch. In a matter of seconds, it isn’t a ring anymore, but a bracelet – and then a necklace. 

A necklace, I think. How curious that marriages are never bound by necklaces, but rings. How curious that something so tiny could remain forever stuck to something as useless as our finger. Legend says, it goes on that one finger because it connects directly to the heart by way of one thin vein, just one tiny line of red dashing through our bodies, waiting to be uncovered by the prospect of a union of the soul. 

He snaps his eyes open at me, then looks down at my hands, where now a nimbus of gold paints the sheets in pale yellow. He doesn’t move. His ring is lifeless, its gold sucked away, and he waits. But the nimbus gives one last throb and expands, and I smile.

With this ring, I say, I thee wed—a glimmer of fear, and something dances in the corner of my eye, something that has always been here—and with it, I bestow upon thee—and the shadow draws near, sauntering merrily in this space I have offered it a long time ago, a lover of ages past, far more intimate than any flesh I could have consummated on the night of my wedding—all the treasures of my mind—and his eyes, my husband’s eyes, they glow, and his lips part and twist at a realization he can’t comprehend, but there is something he sees, something he hasn’t seen before, something that becomes evident—my heart and hands.

The ring comes falling. For a just a split moment, it adorns his thick hairs like a halo, and I think it paints him in the same sanctity he tried to paint my virginal youth and beauty. He doesn’t scream; he cannot scream. There is… a beautiful vibrancy to the way he swallows that bellow that never comes, crushed by heavy gold, blessed by God and all the angels that blew their trumpets from the church ceiling. It is like a soft prayer, a languid gurgling of a man trying to say words he perhaps believes might cleanse me of what he sees as a horrid act. I cannot tell him it’s not horrid—it’s our union—he will see. He will feel.

It tears through his flesh, cracking skin like worn-out leather, and his bulging eyes cast upwards, to the ceiling, where now that figure that has been with me from a child’s age, pushing me here, exactly where I stand, flaps its wings open and sings a melody I have kept in my heart for ages. He sees him, I know he does. His eyes turn red, and from the lashes, tiny specks of tears drop, and the ring closes again—and closes, and closes, tighter and tighter around the throat that shall never speak a vow again.

I am dressed in white, as per the virginal beauty of my being, consummating my marriage on the most blessed night of my being, yet in a moment, it begins to paint itself red. Slick, slithering red. Red of passion and lust, red the colour of greedy lovers and perfidious flesh. The ring closes and closes and his hands stop struggling against it, stop trying to make this golden nimbus press harsh against his skin, and the neck tightens and withers like the stem of a dead flower.

There is a crack.

I lay down again and smile. My white dress is painted red, and the darkness that danced below the brightness of gold lays next to me, curling up to the head that is bound to me by marriage.

We are united, it says to me.

______

The process was solely write don’t think, so don’t fucking ask. I have a thing for the bizarre and I gave it all. Or, well, tried.

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt #21: “Change is annoyingly difficult” + this song

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Danvarias (Alex x Sam)

Warnings: Arson...?

Sam struggles with the zipper on her uniform like she always does. Half-burnt pancakes at 5:45 were a usual part of her morning routine but today, Ruby is actually ready on time. Sam is thankful that they are able to walk hand in hand to the bus stop without any dragging involved. Ruby waves goodbye, follows it up with a kiss, and today, Ruby doesn’t grumble about being embarrassed by Sam’s uniform. 

Sam decides, as she’s driving to Hank’s, that today will be a good day. She’ll need that because the future holds uncertainty, and while unemployment checks might give her a few weeks of freedom, she needs to start thinking about something permanent. Maybe a job without a uniform or early hours. “Another day, another fucking dollar,” Lucy says as they clock in with Hank who is sitting in his office crunching numbers and figuring out a way to give them another few days before gentrification shuts them down. 

Like most days, the early patrons are seeking nothing more than coffee, a few eggs, and decent conversation. Sam can handle most of the tables with one arm tied behind her back. Winn is in a good mood, which must have to do with the hickey on his neck, but Sam doesn’t make a comment about it. She’ll leave that to Lucy, who is cleaning the countertop and consolidating ketchup bottles. “Uh oh, here comes trouble,” Lucy mutters. Sam turns to see a group of construction workers who are in the middle of building the very place that is going to put Hank’s out of business. 

They’ve come here every day for a morning coffee and each time they get bolder with their leering. “I’ll take it,” The workers had caused enough turmoil that now Lucy and Sam rotate who gets to deal with them. Today it’s Sam’s turn. “Coffee?” She asks as she approaches the booth. 

“Might want something a little more. Something sweet.” Unfortunately, they’d been here so many times that Sam had learned their names. Steven was their obvious leader. He did most of the talking. “You’ll take care of us, won’t you, Sam?” Steven reaches his hand out like he’s going to touch her but Lucy swoops in and tugs Sam away before he can. Lucy brings Sam to the kitchen, where Winn peeks out over the counter. 

“Those guys causing problems?” Winn asks. 

“We’re fine,” Sam assures him trying to avoid a scene at all costs.

“Don’t look now but your secret admirer is here,” Winn says with a grin. “Not that it’s a secret.” Sam spots the woman walk into the diner and taking her usual spot at the counter. She’s wearing the same olive jean jacket that she always wears with her usual dark frayed jeans. The only difference is that she’s wearing a shirt that actually looks clean for a change, like she put in some effort, albeit slight. 

“Oh, shut up,” Sam chastises. 

“I’ll take the assholes, you go take care of your boo.” Sam takes the jokes with pride. It isn’t often that a girl like her gets to spend time with someone she actually likes. And Alex? She’s kind. Painfully quiet at times but as far as regulars go, Sam doesn’t mind being around someone who actually knows how to say thank you. 

Yes, Alex was an enigma. No matter how many times Sam had asked she never got a straight answer about where Alex was from or what she did for a living. All Sam knew was that Alex lived nearby, loved coffee, and had an affinity for pie. It’d been months and still Sam couldn’t figure her out. But that was the thing about this area and these people, lots of passers-through and not very many people who want to be known. “Hey, Peach Fuzz,” Sam teases as she slides behind the counter and pours Alex a cup of coffee.

Alex always greets her with a smile, more so now that Sam has given her a nickname. If Sam is feeling adventurous and it’s later in the day, she’ll sometimes run her fingers across Alex’s buzzcut which always makes Alex laugh. Sam will save that for later, she thinks. “How’s your morning going?”

“Good, you?” Sam glances over at the construction workers briefly, Alex’s eyes follow. 

“Are they bothering you?” Alex turns like she’s about to get up and do something about it, Sam grabs her wrist to hold her in place. 

“It’s fine.” Sam gives Alex a reassuring smile. “Fuck them, I would much rather hear about your day. Or night. Whichever.”

“I’m boring, you know that.”

“I doubt it.” Sam certainly has plenty of reasons to doubt. For one, Alex has showed up to the diner - not once but twice - with a black eye. One time when Sam and Lucy were using their smoke break to take a nap in the back of Lucy’s car, they’d heard Alex yelling on the phone about taking care of things. Out here, on the cusp of the country, most people have guns, but for some reason knowing that Alex carries a gun seems...different. Sam wasn’t certain that she had the guts to ask all the questions she wants to for fear of scaring Alex off.

“Lots of construction up Main,” Alex says. 

“Yeah. A new fancy, six-bucks-a-cup-of-Joe kinda place is moving in. We’re headed the way of the payphone. Obsolete.” 

“Out of business? Really? How soon?” This is the most Alex has ever talked and it comes as a surprise. She looks genuinely disturbed by the news. 

“Two weeks as far as I know.”

“Shit, I love this place.” Alex looks at the construction workers for a long beat. “It’s a shame.”

“Let me get you a slice of pie. We’ve got cherry, just for you,” Sam tells her as she heads toward the kitchen to check-in. Lucy scampers over after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the kitchen. Winn looks between them, sweat from the heat of the kitchen covering his brow. Lucy dismisses Sam’s eagerness to leave the kitchen in favor of - at least - an open window. 

“What is going on there?” Lucy asks. She peeks out of the kitchen and watches Alex drink her coffee peacefully. “Goddamn, she is honestly a dreamboat.” Lucy jabs her finger against Sam’s chest. “And you’re just flaunting yourself around there and not getting laid? You’re an embarrassment to waitresses everywhere.”

“And cooks,” Winn chimes in. “Her eyes have been glued to you for three months now. 

“Exactly! Why don’t you just saunter on over there and figure out if she tastes like peaches or not.” Sam rolls her eyes so hard that she has to brace herself against the door. “Come on,” Lucy grabs Sam’s arm and pulls her out of the kitchen and behind the counter. They do a few mindless tasks, all the while Lucy keeps her eyes on Alex. “What’s your shirt say?” Alex looks down at her shirt and smiles. 

“It says ‘No TERFS on my TURF’.” Sam looks at the shirt herself wondering if it’s possible to like someone without really knowing them. 

“Take that jacket off, Sam and I get hit on all day, we deserve some eye candy.” Sometimes Sam loves Lucy. They’d been stuck in this aimless job for so long that she forgets that they aren’t really partners in crime. Right now, Sam is trying her best not to enjoy this. Lucy’s filter had gone out the window years ago and now she was all suggestive comments and playful banter. Sam wishes she had the guts to say some of the things she does. For now, Sam watches. She watches Alex take off her jacket and reveal nice arms that could certainly hold or lift Sam. Perhaps on this very countertop. 

Lucy whistles. 

“You got a permit for those things?” Lucy is on a roll and soon Alex is either going to crumble under their gaze or show that she has a bit of bite. Winn personally delivers a slice of cherry pie to Alex and she gives him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. Alex might not realize it but she’s made a  mark on this tiny little diner. Just when all the attention seems to be on her, Steven waves Sam over, showing that he’s ready to pay his bill.

“Here you are, sweetheart.” Getting smacked on her ass is something that happens once every few weeks. But not usually by Steven and certainly not in front of Alex. 

Before Sam can register what happened, Alex has Steven by the collar and is - effortlessly - lifting him to his feet. Alex says nothing which is somehow even more frightening. She stares at Steven, unravels him with one look, and he, and his buddies trip over themselves to leave. 

Alex returns to her seat and continues eating pie, Sam suddenly gets it into her mind that Alex might be dangerous. Not in a bad way but perhaps, and this thought hits her at full force, Alex is actually on the run from something. They are practically in the middle of nowhere. The gun, the hushed phone conversations, the way that Alex always seems to avoid revealing any personal details. Sam softly touches Alex’s shoulder and mutters the kindest thank you she can muster up before she grabs the back of Lucy’s uniform and drags her into the bathroom. 

“I’m flattered but I got fucked to oblivion last night by this chick - who had a great collection of toys by the way - and I can barely walk-.”

“Lucy! No.” Sam shakes her head and pulls Lucy into a stall, locking it behind them. “I don’t want to...ew...I just think that maybe...maybe…”

“Use your words.”

“Is Alex kind of...strange to you? As in…” Sam clears her throat. “The way she just kinda tossed dumbass Steven aside, it was like she’s…”

“In the Mafia?” 

“What?!”

“Is that not where this was going?” Lucy crosses her arms over her chest. “I mean, she’s for sure involved in organized crime of some sort.”

“Okay, that’s terrifying.” Sam bites her nails for a second, pondering over every scenario that comes to mind. “But she’s so cute.”

“Killers can be cute,” Lucy says. “Though, she looks more like one of those enforcers. Like she’s just there to scare people off not murder them.”

“That’s enough.” Sam raises her hand to stop Lucy. “I don’t even know why I’m so invested in this. In two weeks, we’re gonna be out of a job, and I’ll probably never see her again.” 

“Change can be annoyingly difficult,” Lucy says with a sigh. “Let’s get back out there.”

Sam doesn’t let her concerns derail her day. She’s got plenty to get done, lots of gossip to spread between customers, and the casual flirting that has become the norm between her and Alex. Usually, Alex leaves before the lunch rush but today she sits through it, ordering an actual meal for a change. Sam watches her eat. There’s something enticing about it. Uninhibited and messy, Sam has had about all she can handle. “Hey, Peach, can I get you anything else?” 

“Nah, I think I should head out.” Alex stands and grabs her jacket. She digs into her pocket and pulls out a few bills tossing them on the counter.

“That’s way too much,” Sam tells her. This is a game they play every day, one that Alex never lets her win. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I try.” Alex digs around in her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke break?”

“You’re definitely trouble.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

“Hey, Luce, I’m gonna take five,” Sam hollers to where Winn and Lucy are bullshitting near the kitchen.

“Take longer,” Lucy suggests, winking at Alex. 

They walk outside and Alex immediately lights up. She offers a cigarette to Sam, who accepts it gladly. For a while, they lean against the side of the building watching a tractor work the fields in the distance. The lunch crowd has mostly disappeared and now they’re moving into the lull of the rest of the day. Alex’s 1977 Ford Bronco is sitting there in the parking lot. Sam had noticed a few weeks ago that Alex always parked at the rear of the building. 

A quick escape route, Sam now realizes. 

“You married?” Alex asks out of the blue, Sam shakes her head. “Seeing anyone?” Sam shakes her head again, this time very much aware of Alex’s eyes on her. “Wanna fuck?” 

The thing about Sam Arias is that this kind of thing was not totally out of her wheelhouse. In fact, from what she can remember of the night, Ruby was conceived in a car. But fucking someone who she barely knew, who was probably in the Mafia, and who somehow managed to give her the best orgasm of her life - in less than six minutes, she might add - was certainly something Sam hadn’t expected of herself. 

Sam knows this story. Alex is like some kind of rough and ready drifter who breaks the heart of every woman in her path. Sam gladly takes one for the team as she lets Alex do whatever the hell she wants with her as they rock together in the back of Alex’s jeep. 

It all ends rather unceremoniously. Sam lying on her back trying to catch her breath, Alex wiping her fingers on her jeans with a smirk. “Damn, you look so good right now.” 

“Let me do something for you,” Sam offers. 

“Next time,” Alex suggests. “Right now, I’ve got some shit to get done.” Alex plants a firm kiss on Sam’s lips before they part and she drives off to do God knows what. Sam returns to a fairly quiet diner and tries to stop herself from feeling like a bundle of chaos for the rest of the day. 

It is totally unsurprising when Sam picks up her newspaper the following day. She suspects that everyone in town will be frightened but all Sam feels is relief. Winn and Lucy practically tackle her when she arrives at the diner, each ranting and screaming about how there might be a maniac out there. “I mean, holy fuck, they burned the entire building down!” Winn yells. 

“Sam, doesn’t this kind of seem like something someone in the mafia might do?” It’s a pointed accusation. One that Sam doesn’t take lightly. She looks down at the article again “Arson Suspected at Future Cafe Site”. The pictures tell the whole story. Someone had burned down the very place that was going to put Hanks out of business. “Either way, my ass is thrilled that we still have our jobs.” Sam agrees, almost too easily. 

The wait feels endless. Sam breaks two plates that morning while she tiptoes around the diner, hoping - fucking praying - that Alex will show up. When the clock strikes 2, Sam has convinced herself that Alex is long gone. 

Two minutes later, Alex walks through the doors wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a grey tweed trench coat. Sam finds herself struggling for words. She needs to say something firm. Alex looks like someone who has never been told ‘no’ and that kind of cockiness was not going to play here. “Hey, Fuzz, have an eventful night?” Sam asks pouring Alex’s coffee like always. 

“Nothing too exciting.”

“Did you hear? About that building.”

“Tough luck, huh?” Alex grins. “Well, at least, it’s lucky for you.”

“You really are bad news.” Alex gets a kick out of that. 

“When’s your smoke break?” Alex asks eagerly. 

“Are you crazy-?”

“I thought we had a spark. Plenty of fire between us and that’s something that can’t be contained.” Sam forces herself not to laugh or even smile. Alex isn’t convinced. “I’ll be outside, come find me, if you’re up for it.” Sam won’t be following. Alex is dangerous. 

A menace to society. 

Sam bites her tongue, tosses the rag she’d been using to clean the counter and yells to Lucy, “I’m gonna take a smoke break!” Lucy cocks her head to the side and, thankfully, doesn’t ask what she’s doing taking a break so early. “Could be a while.”

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It (Part 17)

Paring: WinterSoldier!Bucky x Spy!Reader

Catch Up here | Masterlist | Words: 2k |

Warnings: Themes of PTSD, brainwashing, terribly written action scene and some angst maybe?

Song: November by Mark Richter

Feel free to ask to be tagged, leave a like, reblog or comment ♥

Versailles, France

You paced about the room, trying to make sense of everything. Trying to understand how Bucky was alive. Somehow looking no different than he did in your dreams -your nightmares. Would he still be real if you dared touch him? Would he still be tangible? Whole? Flesh?

And what of the metal arm?

What of the imposing foreign object that shone like a piece of starlight, reflecting the amber licks of flame from the fireplace at you like a malicious taunt from the universe? Was that some twisted claim of re-genesis. It's joint held in place around scarred skin. A mark on his body, a permanent symbol of his rebirth. The receipt for what he’d lost. His pinkslip.

He was unconscious, arms cuffed to a radiator in your small little safe house, the fireplace keeping the biting cold at bay, though you suspected you kept shivering for a different reason altogether.

The teapot whistled over the stove, steam permeating the room in a haze filled with the scent of peppermint. After Germany, after the experiments, you had been prone to suffer panic attacks more frequently. Periods of time that would be swallowed whole, leaving you with gaps in your memory and uncontrollable shaking fits. Sal had been the first person to wrap you in a blanket and sit with you through the worse episodes. The smell of peppermint tea would always line the walls and fill your nostrils. It became a constant now. A coping mechanism.

You sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to pry your eyes away from the unconscious Bucky, even for a moment, a second. You were afraid that if you blinked, then so would he, except he would blink out of existence. A part of you ached to touch him, to caress his cheek and feel his hair twine around your fingers, but you were afraid to.

The man chained to your radiator was not the same as the cold-blooded killer you had fought before, but that didn't mean he wasn't another creature, an anachronism free from the confines of time. Maybe he wasn’t just one thing anymore. Maybe he was both killer and man.

If your prolonged life had taught you anything, it was never to poke feral creatures when you thought they were asleep. And as peaceful and docile as he looked right now, Bucky was indeed a feral creature, broken and pieced together until he didn't know who he was anymore.

"How are you real?" you spoke in an undertone, voice still raspy.

As you inhaled the steam, your mind backtracked to the moment you first found out of his demise.

***

 You walked through dozens of faceless persons perusing through the museum, reading up on the great feats of Captain America and his trusted Howling Commandos.

Being here felt like you were trespassing on hallowed ground, an uninvited vampire in a church. You kept your head low, white hair hidden beneath a baseball cap as you made your way, almost on instinct, to a particular section of the exhibition.

Passing the glass display case housing Captain America's suit, a smile tugged weakly on your lips at the humorous thought of the scrawny little Brooklyn boy you had met at the diner fitting into that six foot one monstrosity. A part of you ached to see that pure smile of his again, it never failed to lift your spirits. That was a sentiment you'd been sorely deprived of lately.

You moved onto the next exhibition, this one displaying the life and death accounts of one James Buchanan Barnes. It was like a slap across the face, reading a memorial plaque in a damned museum in place of a KIA letter that started with the obligatory 'We regret to inform you'.

You had spent hours staring at the words inscribed on the glass display, torturing yourself with what if's and could have been's.

A whimper got stuck on its way out of your throat as your eyes fogged up with salty tears, your hand reaching out to touch the last photograph taken of Bucky. You would have cried right there and then had a small kid, no older than four, bumped into you.

"Jack, so help me God, if you don't stop runnin' off every five seconds I'm gon--" The woman's familiar voice was kept from finishing her sentence as soon as she saw the side profile of your face.

You plastered on a fake smile, turning to meet the boy's mother, "Don't worry about it, everything's–"

You froze in your tracks. Delicate pearls were strung around the boy’s mother’s neck, flat curls unwinding from the summer heat, bags under her eyes. Her right hand clasped the fingers of a girl a little younger than the boy. The two of you stood there, wide eyes glued to each other as drones of people moved passed in your peripheral.

The woman looked from the scars on your arms to the few strands of white that peaked from under your cap, straining to look at you properly as if she saw a ghost.

"Elle?" She breathed out.

Horror filled her kind eyes as you nodded rigidly.

"Yes Momma?" her daughter looked up at her innocently.

The first genuine laugh shook from your chest, "Hey, Sal."

***

 A deep groan filled the empty space. Bucky was waking up. You set your teacup aside, bare feet softly trekking on the creaky wooden boards like a cautious cat. You grabbed a knife from your boot holster by the shoe rack as a precaution. As a habit.

You weren't sure who would wake up, the man or the killer.

"Where am I?" he looked around, unfamiliar with his surroundings. He tugged at his hands and noticed they were bound. Frightened, he looked up at you, lost and at war with himself, the lines on his forehead crinkling as his eyebrows crashed together. "You… You tried to kill me… I- I tried to kill you."

You took a step forward, "Bucky?"

He shivered, eyes forced shut, "N-no… I- I don't know."

You took another step and he recoiled further into the wall at the sight of your knife. You rose both your hands, setting the knife on the floor and stepping away from it.

"What's going on?" His head shook violently, he looked cold, even though sweat trailed across his face. It was like he was in withdrawal. In pain.

"Do you remember what happened?" You knelt a few meters from him.

His head snapped to the side as he took in a straggled breath. "I… had a mission. I have a mission."

"You recognised me earlier, you recognised your name: Bucky."

His head snapped the other way, "Hhhgg, no! I… that's not my- Arrrh!"

Your hand balled into a fist. God, you wanted to ease those crinkles and lines away from his beautiful face. You wanted to coax those beautiful ocean blues back from the treacherous depths of the darkened sea they had now become. But you couldn't. Not while he was in such a state.

"Maybe this will help," You pulled out a photograph from your back pocket and slid it over to him.

He peered at it through narrowed eyes, "That’s my face…and yours. We… we knew each other?"

"Yes," you sighed in relief. "We did."

"These other faces," his gaze landed on Steve. "Who are they?" He looked up at you now, a deep-seated melancholy pulling at his features. "Who am I?"

You inched a little bit closer to him, and when he didn't try to back away, you decided to move even further. "You are… James Buchanan Barnes. Your best friend was named Steve. You were a hero, the both of you."

"A hero..." he didn't believe the sentiment but you noticed his muscles unclench, "And how do we know each other?"

"We were… close, once. You knew as Elle. I worked at a diner you frequented."

"Elle..." His focus was drawn to your hair, "White. Snow. White snow in the mountains," he mumbled before grasping his head in his hands as he whined agony. "The rabbit…the rabbit got away… Into the forest. Into the dark. So dark… Failure to complete. Failure to complete. Spiders, spiders everywhere. Screaming. Make it stop! Make it stop!"

He was shaking violently now and you placed your hands on his biceps, trying to steady him. "What did they do to you Buck?" you mourned for the man who was no more, for the Bucky that was stripped down to this skeletal version of his old self.

"Red. Yellow. Hissing. So much hissing. The metal screams. It burns like fire. Like needles in my brain. They all scream. Make them stop!" His voice cracked.

"I'm right here, Buck. I won't leave your side. I promise," you smoothed your hands through his hair as tears began to well in your eyes. "Not again. Not ever again. You'll be okay."

He leaned into you, all his weight crushing your sternum, his shaking vibrating through you like seismic quakes. He whimpered like a kicked dog, eyes shut so tight you thought he was trying to will his sight away. The icy temperature of his metal arm felt warmer than his cries. Hands grabbing at his ears to block out the phantoms in his brain.

"Make them stop..." he cried, bottom lip trembling like a child’s.

You placed your forehead to his, feeling utterly helpless, "I don't know how."

After his shaking subsided, you found that now it was your hands that were shaking. You exhaled sharply, running them through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. Seeing him like this broke something in you and it felt like the walls were caving in. Choking you. Burying you alive. You rubbed your neck, remembering how it felt to be deprived of oxygen. You much rather preferred that to this emotional torture.

You stood, waving the tension from your fingertips away, heart beating like you’d run a marathon.

"Please..." he begged when you left his side. “Please don't go. The voices. Don't leave me alone with them. I don't want to see their faces."

Your teeth chattered, a quiver mangling with choked back tears of your own. Everything was so… overwhelming. And no matter how closed in you felt, you couldn't leave him to suffer alone. After all, wasn't it your fault he was remembering?

Maybe it would have been easier on us both if he had killed me, you thought.

"I promised I wouldn't leave you," you reminded him.

He was staring at the photograph again. "Tell me more. Your voice. It blocks them out."

You blinked rapidly, trying to dry out your eyes, "What do you want to know?"

"Did… did I have a family?"

A twinkle crossed your lips, "A big one from one I gathered." You returned to his side, sitting beside him so your shoulders touched and your head rested on the wall. "I never met them, but I know you had sisters. Maybe four. After the war… I looked for traces of you. I found a marriage certificate belonging to one of them. Her name was Lottie I think. She married a former air force pilot. They have a son. Named him James…" you turned to look at him, dark hair blocking his face. "After his uncle."

He leaned back, a frown growing, then he let out a frustrated sigh, "I don't remember her."

You decided to continue talking, it seemed to help him. "I found records of your mother too. Winnifred Barnes. Wife of George Barnes. She was a combat nurse during the war. When it was over, she volunteered with the Red Cross. She died a little over ten years ago, I think… Contracted some form of viral infection. Never shook it off."

Bucky shook his head, banging it against the wall, "I… I don't-"

You placed your hand on his metal arm, twitching when you remembered it being wrapped around your neck –which was now healing from the purple marks it left behind.

"It's okay," you smiled.

"Who is he?" he asked, pointing at the photograph.

You chuckled fondly, "That's Steve. In many ways, he was a part of your family too. He'd always get into trouble. A heart of gold, but not the best self-preservation instincts. One in a million. I'd never thought people like him still existed in this world."

Bucky swallowed loudly, "Is he...?"

"Yeah, he died too. He saved millions of lives in the process. It was a noble end."

“When… when was this photo taken?”

You chewed at your inner cheek, “A few years after world war two started.”

"Why do I look the same?" He turned his head to face you, panic peeling up his eyelids. "Why do you?"

"I… I-" you ground your molars together. You wanted to know the answers to those questions too.

Suddenly, a loud banging emanated from your door. Bucky returned to looking like a trapped animal, wiry eyes staring at the door. You held up a hand.

"Relax, I'll go see who it is."

You picked up the knife from the table and walked to the door, peering out through the peephole.

"Shit," you swore as you holstered your weapon. "Go away, Alexei!"

"You didn't check-in. The company sent me to look for you. I heard about the attempt on your mark." His thick Russian lilt coated his gruff voice.

"I'm fine Alexei, I just needed to lay low."

Bucky's spine curved as he curled into a ball, more indistinguishable mumbles breaking out as he spoke in tongues. You turned to him, worried.

"Who's that?" Alexei demanded, hearing the incomprehensible mutterings of a mentally crippled man.

"Nobody, Alexei. Go back. You found me, confirmed I’m well, mission accomplished."

"They'll come looking for me..." Bucky warned you as he watched a lizard crawl up the wall, its tail curled at the end.

"Who will?" you whispered.

"I don't know… but I don't think we want to find out."

"Y/N, let me in before I start kicking down doors!"

"Alexei, no!"

"You've got until I reach twenty," he warned.

You couldn't know what would happen if Alexei saw Bucky. He was still in the same clothes he wore when he tried to assassinate your mark –when he tried to kill you. There was a high chance Alexei would be able to tell Bucky was the assassin from earlier, or at the very least be able to make an educated guess. And as much as you trusted your partner, you knew he wasn't one for placing brains over brawn.

Alexei started counting down and you paced about, trying to figure out a way through this mess.

Bucky had gone limp, chin pointed high as he kept an eye on the lizard's tail.

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen..."

Bucky's entire body froze, his hands balling into fists. Then he muttered a single word, "Semnadtsat’."

"Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen..."

Bucky broke the restraints easily, standing off the ground in a measured motion, his shoulders squared like a soldiers. The scared, shaking, lost boy was no more. And when his eyes found to yours, they were darker than the night. Instantly, you knew he wasn't Bucky anymore and you felt him slip through your fingers all over again.

You gasped and reached for your knife just when Alexei broke the door down. The soldier attacked the big Russian man. His metal arm cracking and knocking at bones and vital organs. Alexei wasn't averse to a good fight, in fact, he'd been honed into the perfect soldier a bottle could cultivate, but he still wasn’t a match for such unbridled rage. Alexei retaliated, his punches slow but heavy.

You watched from the side-lines, unsure of how to proceed.

"Bucky, stop!" You shouted between the sounds of metal crashing into flesh and flesh hooking into flesh.

He kicked Alexei into the wall, a crack dusting up cement and then he turned to you, but for some reason, he didn't attack. He just stood there, a menacing wraith like before, except with a pang of sadness to him that he didn't have the first time. Then he stormed out of the room.

You let yourself breathe again, dropping the knife you had braced in a defensive stance as you rushed to Alexei's side. The photograph missing from the floor.

"You big brute, you should have listened to me," you wiped the blood from his mouth with trembling fingers.

Alexei groaned, his hand on his sides as he tried and failed to sit up, "Stop him."

It hit you then, why he never bothered to kill either you or Alexei. It was because you weren't the target. You weren't the mission.

 When you arrived at the building where your mark was being guarded, you were greeted by flames. And Bucky was gone. Again.

Your breathing hitched, quick shallow breaths flaring at your nostrils as you were dragged into a state of panic. Your fingernails scraped at your scalp as you bit your tongue so hard a droplet of blood fell onto the pavement.

I failed you once, James Buchanan Barnes. I won't a second time. Mark my words, I will find you. We will cross paths again… Winter Soldier.

 ***

The Winter Soldier had completed his mission, his target was dead. The Major opened his red book and the mechanical hiss of the machine attached to the chair screeched through the hollow room. A flash of light seared through his ocular nerve. His hands gripped onto the armrests.

Sticking out between from a pouch in his armoured vest was the curled end of a black and white photograph.

A single phrase worming its way out of his subconscious.

"My safe harbour..." he whispered as they wiped his memory clean.

 To be continued...

Tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

Adding counterpart tags too (lmk if this isn’t something you’re interested in): @ladybugsfanfics @ninaminaromina @xstevenat

[shesadramaqueen]

My Curly Haired; Roger Taylor x N!Reader

Requested by: anonymous

Your bio reminded me of a thought I had, being whenever we think of curly hair, Brian comes to mind,so I wanted to know if you could do something where the reader, who also has curly hair, asks Brian his hair routine and they start talking about hair all the time and even end bonding because of it. The rest of the band obviously gets annoyed and roger, who’s the reader with, jealous over the sudden approximation between them. Ik this might sound silly, but it’s just something fun I thought of

Summary: Roger knew you would get along with his bandmates perfectly fine when he brought you in to meet each other. Perhaps, you got along a bit more than fine with a specific curly haired boy. A bit too much for his liking.

Context: based in the early/mid-70’s.

Word Count: 4.9 K

Warnings: bit of angst, alcohol, swearing, a bit of sexual tension if you squint, the L bomb

A/N: I did this a bit more Roger centred than you requested for plot purposes, hope that is alright! I also used neutral pronouns as gender wasn’t specified! I actually used parts of my hair routine for this lmfao so here you go. And yes I used a gif of Ben!Roger and Gwilym!Brian but it reflected the angst I was looking for

Permanent taglist: @turkey-bacon-for-queen, @haikyuumanga

You didn’t really expect all of that to happen when Roger brought you in to meet his band.

You and Roger had been dating for a while now but had never met his mates until one night, when he dragged you to one of their gigs. Maybe not drag, but certainly you felt a bit out of place as that wasn’t your usual scenario.

And that’s how ended up standing in the front row, almost blind in alcohol and screaming senseless lyrics that definitely weren’t the ones from the songs. Still, you were having the time of your life and never wanted it to end.

Roger was looking like a five course meal behind the drum set, of course. The sweat suited him. Yet you couldn’t help your eyes drifting to the guitarist from time to time.

It wasn’t him as a whole what kept your eyes glued to him (he was cute but, having Roger Taylor as your boyfriend, what else could you ask for?), but his perfect curls that fell on his shoulders. You were so jealous that your hair didn’t look like that. 

When he appeared on stage you gasped so hard you saw one of the body guards glance at you curiously, despite him being next to an amp.

What kind of sorcery was that? Never in your life had you seen such perfect hair. It was just breathtaking. At one point you really did wonder: ‘Is this guy real or did someone put LSD in my drink?’.

When the concert eventually came to an end, you were both sad and excited. You didn’t want it to end, as you were having the time of your life, but you also knew that then you’d head backstage and properly meet Roger’s friends. Which meant showering the curly haired boy with questions about his gorgeous mane, as the alcohol didn’t let you feel the shame you generally felt on your every day life.

It wasn’t until you started walking that you noticed how intoxicated you were, and your attempts to look more sober were in vain, so when you reached the door that connected to where the band was, the bodyguards stopped you from going through.

“This is backstage, miss. Staff only” one of them seriously said, while also trying to be comprehensive with your situation.

“But my boyfriend is there!” you managed to slurr out. The two guards looked at each other, amused. “I’m serious! Go ask him, the drummer! Roger Taylor, that is.” You really had to bang your brain for a second to get his name out, and if you were able to in that moment, you’d feel so embarrased for it.

One of them shrugged and went in search for the blond one, knowing you wouldn’t leave.

Some mintutes later, your lover’s head perked up from the door with furrowed brows and you squealed.

“Roger!!” You blurted out with a big grin and he went to hug you. “You guys were amazing up there! You were all like boom and I was all like woooow, you know?”

When he pulled back, he had a smirk painted on his face. “Are you drunk, Y/N?”

“I’m not” you snorted, and booped his nose before continuing. “Haven’t touched a single drop of alcohol in all night.” You smiled innocently and he laughed.

“Not true! You can barely keep your eyes open!” And that was a fact. You could feel the heaviness in not only your eyelids but also your whole body.

“’t’s alright! Now let’s go backstage, I want to meet-” you tried to walk towards the door, but stumbled with your own feet. You were glad Roger was there to catch you, because you would have fallen otherwise.

“The only place you’re going, lovepie,” he said while helping you get on your feet “is home.”

You pouted. “But I want to meet them! I have lots of questions.” You crossed your arms, ready to throw a tantarum.

“You can meet them another day, sweetheart” he said and held your cheek. “But you probably would end up puking all over them right now.”

You threw your head back and groaned. “Fine!” at which he smiled and kissed your cheek.

“Let’s go then” he said and wrapped an arm around your waist to help you stabilize while walking.

“Wait, aren’t you staying?” the confused puppy look you wore made the man beside you laugh lightly.

“And let you go home alone? Not a chance”.

“But this place is so cool!” you exclaimed. “Would you really miss a party for me?” tears started welling up in your eyes.

“You know I’d do anything for you, asshat.” That’s what it took for you to start to messily cry with loud sobs, much to his amusement. “Alright let’s get you home”.

You got outside and the cold air that hit your face made you sober up just enough to calm your weepings down. 

You both waited by the road, Roger trying to get a cab’s attention while you clinged onto him, snuffling your nose and wiping the tears off your face.

When one finally pulled over, you were already half asleep, so you clumsily got inside the car, gave the adress of your apartment and then snuzzled up next to Rog, your eyelids falling shut. 

“Who was the guy with the guitar?” you asked after some minutes of silence, barely conscious.

“That’s Brian, why?” he answered softly. You shrugged.

“Do you think he’s wearing a wig?” Roger scoffed, thinking you were joking. Only after not seeing you laugh he noticed you were dead serious, and he scrunched his face.

“Do I thin- what?” you could feel the confusion in his voice and you furrowed your eyebrows, but didn’t bother to open your eyes to look at him.

“Do you think Brian wears a wig? Or maybe it’s a perm.” Roger couldn’t believe the nonsense you were mumbling.

“Y/N, babe, that’s his real hair” you suddenly sat up straight, startling Roger, and looked at him with excitedness.

“It is? So if I tug his hair, it will hurt him?” you could see a big ‘what the actual fuck’ written on Roger’s face, but didn’t understand why he was so confused.

“…It’s attached to his scalp?”

“Huh. Too bad it’s not a wig” you said leaning back on him again and closing your eyes.

“Why?” he asked, and hesitantely wrapped an arm around you, scared you would shot up again.

“Well because then I could put it on. Obviously” you mumbled as if it was the most evident thing in the world.

That was the last thing you remembered from the night.

A killer headache is what woke you up the morning after.

“Shit” you groaned with your eyes still closed, massaging the bridge of your nose to try and alleviate the pressure that hugged your head tightly. You rolled in the bed and thanked the heavens when you saw a painkiller and a glass of water in the nightstand.

After taking it, you got up with difficulties and headed to kitchen, from where you could smell fresh coffee. Standing there was Roger giving you a great view, as he was only in boxers, eating a toast with some marmalade on it. You wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Good morning, sleepbug” he said softly and you could feel your headache ease with the mere sound of his voice.

“Good morning” you mumbled and kissed his shoulderblade before pulling away and serving yourself a cup of coffee.

You leaned against the counter and stared off into the distance, frowning and trying to remember what happened the night before. “Rog, could you give me a slight sum up of what happened yesterday?”

It’s not that you didn’t remember it; you did know what happened, or at least the outline of it, but you wanted to make sure nothing escaped your memory.

“Alright so, long story short, you went to our gig, got dead drunk and started crying when I said I’d accompany you home because you were too shit faced to meet the boys, asked weird stuff in the car and then passed out. I had to carry you all the way up here and let me tell you, my arms were tired from drumming.” He raised an eyebrow at you and you bit your lip, trying your best not to laugh.

“Sorry about that.” You smiled apologetically but it faded away when you went over his words in your mind. “Wait, asked weird stuff?”

Your night was all pretty clear until the cab part. You knew you talked, but in that moment your mind lingered between the unconsciousness of sleep and the drunk consciousness, so you couldn’t make out the exact conversation that happened.

“Yeah. You asked if Brian’s hair was his real hair? For some reason, you firmly believed it was a perm or even a bloody wig” he mocked you jokingly but you swallowed hard. For a moment, you actually believed the guitarist had been product of your imagination.

“You are not telling him that” you said wearily.

“Oh, you bet I am, love. It’s the first thing I’m going to tell him when I see him” he had a shit eating smirk on his face that you wanted to rip off with all your heart.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He stuck his tongue out at you. “I swear, Taylor”.

He giggled and held you by the waist. “Why do you care so much? You were drunk, it’s not relevant”.

“That’s literally the most embarrassing thing I’ve said in my entire life” you smiled pressing your lips together. “Please keep that pretty mouth of yours shut” you murmured and kissed the base of his jaw, one of his weak spots, and he shivered.

“Alright”.

“Good boy.” You winked at him before pulling away. You drank the rest of your coffee and stretched your back, putting your arms up. “I’m going to shower, I feel disgusting. You coming?”

“Would love to, but can’t. Gotta go to the studio today. In fact,” he glanced at the kitchen clock “I should start getting ready and get going if I don’t want to arrive later than Freddie”.

You both headed into your bedroom: you to get rid of your clothes and get a towel and him to put some on.

When he was done, he kissed your cheek. “Want to grab lunch later? We could go to that pub near the studio”.

“Sure! Be there at… 12:30?”

“Perfect. See you later, love” he said before pecking your lips.

“Later, baby” he gave your ass a smack before heading out with a final wink.

When you heard the main door close behind him, you sighed and headed into the bathroom.

You turned on the shower to let the water heat up and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your hair, as always, was absolute chaos, and you frowned in frustration.

Because you were the only one in your family with curly hair, no one had taught you how to take care of it, and you didn’t know how. It drove you crazy: if you didn’t brush it, the curls and knots would cramp over each other. If you did, it became a frizzy mess. And even if you didn’t brush it, it was frizzy.

That was the natural state of your hair and despite seeing people with perfect curls, you had learned to deal with it. That was until you saw his hair, now you felt ashamed of the thing on top of your head.

This was a good thing, you tried to convince yourself. You would be able to ask him about his secrets to keep it so beautiful, as he was someone you’d come to know eventually, but you were too ashamed and you knew you’d feel intimidated around him.

“Whatever. I guess I’ll have to drink again to be able to ask him and get great hair” you sighed before grabbing the brush and detangling your hair, shedding a couple tears in the process, so it could be easily manageable to wash in the shower.

“Fucking hell” you sneered when you got out of the taxi due to the temperature change. “I wish I would have dried my hair” you scolded yourself before rushing towards the cozy pub that you and Roger frequented to.

You peaked inside when you reached the glass door. On one of the tables near the entrance, you could see Roger talking and next to him… a mass of perfect curls.

“Shit” you whispered as you retreated quickly and hid yourself behind one of the walls that were next to the door. You felt like your heart could jump out of your chest. “My hair is a fucking mess” you screamed-whispered and bit your lip in nervousness.

You couldn’t make a fool of yourself in front of him, you had to play it cool. And so you covered yourself with the hood of Roger’s sweater, took a few breaths and headed inside.

As soon as your boyfriend saw you, he grinned brightly and raised his arm so you could spot him, despite being one of the few people inside the local.

“Hi!” you said when you reached them. You gave the blond one a peck on the lips before smiling at the man next to him. “Brian, right? I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. I didn’t know you would be joining us today” you said and flinched a little.

‘Did that sound uninviting?’

“Oh, I won’t. I came because Roger kept insisting how good the beers are here and I didn’t believe him.” He raised his almost empty mug at you before looking at his friend. “I guess I was wrong” he chuckled before drinking again, and you laughed nervously.

Roger frowned and gave you a quizzical look before signalling you to sit down. Not until then you had realized you were awkwardly standing there, so you rushed to sit down while you felt a faint blush creeping up your face. 

There was silence for a moment until Brian set his glass down and got up. “Well, I guess I’ll get going. You’re paying.” Roger switched his curious gaze on you to him with an offended expression.

“No I’m not! You pay your shit!” he said dramatically and you snorted.

“Nope” he emphasised the p, making the boy in front of you groan. He wrapped his colourful scarf around his neck before turning at you with a kind smile. “Bye, Y/N” he then turned to Roger. “Finish that damn song already, drummer” at which Roger flipped him off as a goodbye.

Brian chuckled and started walking away, your gaze not leaving him as he became smaller the furhter away he was, his hair bouncing with grace over his shoulders.

When he was out the door, you closed your eyes and sighed before looking at Roger, who was staring at you intently. “What?” you asked.

“What was that?” he questioned back.

“What was what?” you picked up the menu and started eyeing it to avert his gaze, even if you always ordered the same thing when you came here.

You could feel Roger’s eyes on you while silence settled tensly for some seconds before he shrugged. “Nothing” he said before looking at his own menu.

That’s how you found yourself staring at Brian more than you should have. More than you’d like to. The sight of him made the self hatred towards your hair increase, but it also struck you every time.

‘Fucking ridiculous’ you thought, mouth hanging open when you saw him enter the studio in a particularly humid and rainy day without a single strand of hair out of place. ‘He doesn’t have a single bad hair day’.

The past few days you had gone in the studio with Roger, as you were on a break from university and only worked in the afternoons. You would rather spend time with the band, who you had already met, than hang around in your apartment doing nothing.

The thought of being made fun of terrified you so bad you started wearing the most unbelievable accessories and hairstyles so your hair would stay hidden, which Freddie would giggle at every time he saw you.

Roger, on the other hand, seemed a little off. A bit too weary, too tense, too cranky and you didn’t know why. Specially he was like that around Brian.

You were sitting on the sofa of the recording room next to Roger one morning, watching Brian record his part. You had to say, that was also something breathtaking. His technique and way of playing was something from another world, and you found yourself staring in awe once again.

When you turned to Roger to comment how good the new song sounded so far after Brian did a particularly good riff, you saw him roll his eyes while staring at the booth with the most annoyed expression. You furrowed your brows, confused.

You were about to ask what was wrong when the door swinged open.

“Your turn, mate” a sweaty Brian commented with a smirk. Roger glared at him for a second before huffing and getting up to go to the booth, stomping his feet on his way.

“Oookay” Brian said, not knowing what was going on with him either, before plopping down in the couch next to you.

“You were killer in there! I can’t wait to hear how the song turns out” you exclaimed excitedly. The fact that you were awkward around him didn’t stop you both from getting along perfectly fine.

“Thanks! I worked pretty hard on that one and I really like how it turned out” you smiled at him before turning your attention to the booth, where you could see Roger angrily yell at Freddie through the glass, the last one wearing a smug smile as he had mutted the sound so not a single complaint from the drummmer could be heard.

You scoffed and shook your head at your boyfriend’s attitude.

“Unbelievable, isn’t he?” You turned your head only to see Brian already staring intently at you. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He smiled and looked down. “No, sorry for staring.” He looked at you again and slightly frowned before speaking up. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you”.

You unconsciously fixed your slouched posture and bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a bit anxious. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Well, uh,” he started and looked to his side “I don’t mean to be rude but, I’ve noticed you’ve er… been staring at me?” Your eyes opened up dramatically. “At first I thought it was my imagination but I don’t think it is. Again, I’m not trying to put you on the spot but I’d really like to know why that is.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his head with a nervous smile.

You could feel your cheeks burn as you looked down and played with the trim of your hoodie. Had you really been that obvious?

“I’m sorry” you started and chuckled slightly. “I really didn’t mean to do it, sorry. I don’t want this to sound weird but, I really like your hair”.

He blinked rapidly and blushed slightly. “My hair?”

“Yeah! I’ve honestly never seen anyone with a hair like yours. I’m pretty much obsessed with it and that is why my eyes drift to it much more than I’d like to… Mainly because I have curly hair myself, kinda”.

“Well, thank you so much, really…” He softly said. “I’m flattered. And what do you mean kinda?”

“I do have curly hair but as I don’t know how to take care of it, it looks horrible and anything but curly. That’s why I always wear something on my head, so it can’t be seen. I feel intimidated around you because of that.” You said the last part so quietly you doubted he heard you.

“Well, why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I didn’t want to come off as a weirdo”.

“You literally stare at me” he pointed out jokingly.

“Fair point” you laughed and noticed that you didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. Now that you had broken the barrier between the two of you, you felt relaxed and confident enough to talk to him about this topic, something you should have done long ago. “So, will you help me?”

“'Course!” You smiled at him, thankful. “You could take your hood off, though?”

“Shit. Yeah, sure” you mumbled rushedly and bit your lip before you pulled the fabric off your head, unleashing your damaged hair that went all over the place. You silently prayed the others were too distracted so they wouldn’t notice it.

He inhaled sharply. “Oh, wow”.

“I know” you said while getting some of it out of your face. “It’s messy and damaged and horrible. I used to straighten it but it got really bad so I stopped and started wearing stuff that would cover it or different hairstyles that would ‘control’ it.” You picked a lock and started inspecting it. “I just don’t know what to do so I really could use your help.”

“First of all, don’t brush your hair when it’s dry” he said cringing a bit at the thought of it. “It’s very damaging and causes breakage. Instead detangle it in the shower when it’s literally soaked in conditioner. And talking about that don’t wash it too often… leave around 4 or 5 days in between wash day” you furrowed your brows at this.

“What do you mean? Won’t it get like, dirty and dry?” He chuckled slightly.

“That’s why you refresh your hair every day in order for your curls to always look good. I personally shake my hair up with my hands, wet it and apply some curl definer cream and some conditioner before scrunching. Then I just let the air do its job and hope for the best.” He shrugged and paused for a second before continuing. “A big lifehack is sleeping with a pineapple ponytail which basically means a loose ponytail on top of your head, but if you find it uncomfortable you could also carefully wrap your hair with a silk scarf.”

You held your hand up to make him stop talking, as the information was overflowing your head. “How come you know all of this?” You asked, feeling a bit dizzy.

“I’ve talked to a lot of people and tried a lot of stuff. It’s basically trial and error” he smiled at you sympathetically. “We’ll get your curls looking amazing, I promise”.

“Thank you so much, Brian” you kissed his cheek and just in that moment Roger came into the room and you put your hood on once again.

You saw him shoot a deadly look at the man next to you and decided to intervene.

“Hey love, how was the recording?” You asked completely oblivious to why your boyfriend seemed so annoyed.

“Fine” he growled.

You tilted your head slightly. 'Huh? What did I even do?’

Freddie sensed the tension and spoke up. “How about we take a break?” He said clasping his hands together.

You felt everything had been good since that day: your friendship with Brian was flourishing beautifully, as you both talked all day long about every topic that came to mind. Your hair also looked better than it ever had, and this boosted your confidence into another level, which had Freddie extra happy and excited.

The only thing that still seemed off was Roger, but you figured that it was because of the pressure from the album, as he sometimes got extra snappy when he felt stressed, so you decided to give him space and not overwhelm him.

At first, John and Fred were quite happy to see the guitarist and you getting along so well, but as the deadline of the album drew near, the warm feeling was replaced with an exasperating one.

One morning you were happily chatting with Brian while Freddie was scribbling down some lyrics, John was playing on his bass and Roger was sitting on his stool, twirling his drumsticks, when the bassist finally fed up.

“Look, Y/N, we get it. You and Brian have a lot in common and whatever but we’re supposed to be working so please can you leave it for later?” He snapped and stopped playing.

“I agree, darling. We’re not here to hang out” Freddie said calmly but you could sense the slight irritation in his tone.

“Sorry guys” you said and couldn’t help but giggle, so you leaned into Brian’s neck to hide it, while he also tried not to laugh at their annoyance.

You snapped out of your happy state when you heard a loud noise, which made you shot your head up.

Roger had stood up so abruptly he had knocked down his stool, and you were only able to catch a glimpse of him before he stormed out of the room. You immediately got up to go after him, feeling very worried.

Following the trail of cold air, you walked through the hallway until you saw the fire emergency door open. You approached it and peeked through the glass.

Roger was sitting on the floor, with his chin resting on his arms that were leaning on one of the railings and with his legs hanging out the platform, cigarrete in his mouth.

“Hey” you said softly. He didn’t answer, but just glanced at you for a second before returning his gaze to the passing cars below.

You sighed and sat next to him while he took a drag. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He snorted, clearly upset. “What’s wrong? Obviously nothing. I’m fucking great, can’t you see?”

You crossed your arms, feeling slightly annoyed. “Look, if you’re pissed I’m sorry, but you have no right to snap at me like that, I’m just trying to help you.” You were about to get up when Roger put a hand over your arm to stop you from leaving.

A couple of seconds passed by until he spoke up. “I’m jealous” he mumbled and dropped his hand off you.

“What?” You asked, not sure if you heard right.

“I’m jealous, okay?” He exclaimed and looked at you in the eye.

“Jealous?” You said, not believing what you just heard. “What eve- wait is this because of Brian?” Roger looked away, ashamed. “I can’t believe this. You’re jealous of one of your best mates?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking stupid and I hate feeling like this, but I see you both getting along so good and being with each other so much I can’t help but wonder… What if you’ve finally realised that I’m not good enough for you? What if you finally got tired of me?” His voice grew weaker with every word he said and he hid his profile with his hair to not give away the tears that welled up in his eyes.

That’s when you became aware of what was happening. He wasn’t being possessive over you or angry at you. He was insecure over himself and scared Brian might be able to steal you away, as he felt his friend was much better than he was.

“Roger, we literally talk about hair.” You held his hand and squeezed it.

“I know and it’s so stupid but… I don’t know.” He took one last drag and threw the cigarette’s butt down, watching it fall to avoid your avid gaze. You grabbed his face and made him look into your eyes.

“Roger, that won’t happen. I’m not going to leave you for Brian or for anyone. I don’t deserve better because you’re already the best thing that has happened to me.” He was moved by your words, but still they didn’t convince him completely.

“And how do you know that won’t happen?” Your heart clenched at the sight of him being so vulnerable.

“Baby, I don’t know if any of that will happen in the future, but I’m sure it won’t happen now. It won’t because I love you, Roger”.

“You what?” His eyes widened in shock. Not until a second later you realized it had been the first time you had said it and you were surprised that those words left your mouth. Still, it felt right.

“I love you and I’m not going to leave you” you repeated, smiling brightly, and you could feel Roger melt into your hands.

“I love you too, Y/N” Your heart raced at his words, feeling so happy you could combust.

You leaned in to kiss him, but a cough beside you made you jump instead.

“Can we please get back to work?” Deaky was leaning in the door frame with crossed arms and quirked brows.

“Are you joking?” Roger groaned. “We’ve literally been here for 5 minutes.” John rolled his eyes.

“I want you on the recording room in a minute” he said looking at you both carefully before walking away.

“Now, where were we?” Your boyfriend said with a dorky smile before kissing you.

His soft and warm lips on yours made butterflies fly in your stomach and you smiled against him, which made him do it as well.

You broke the kiss and he pouted. “'C'mon!” You giggled. “Let’s go back, you have to record your solo now.” His frown changed into a big smile.

“Yes, let’s go!” He excitedly exclaimed and rushed to go back to the booth, not even waiting for you.

“Darn it, I love him” you muttered to yourself while going after him. “I really do.”