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wicked-mind · 3 years

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Last Love

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, swearing.

Note: I wrote this in an hour after a sudden spurt of inspiration. Any mistakes are my own due to the fact it is two in the morning lol. As always, any likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I love that shit (:

Part Two Here

All Writings Masterlist

gifs not mine

You were on your way to class when you felt a grip on your upper arm, pulling you into a janitor closet and shutting the door behind you. Your blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the darkness before seeing the muscular, dark haired man in front of you with a cocky grin that seemed to be permanently on his lips anytime you saw him, “Bucky! What the hell? Class starts in like thirty seconds, I can’t be late again!.” You whined out at him. It was your sophomore year in college and the teacher in the class you had happened to be an asshole of a professor with a god complex and he had humiliated you in front of the whole class the first time you were late.

Bucky grinned down at you, taking a step closer and placing one hand on the shelf behind you beside your head, leaning closer until he could smell your sweet perfume, “I miss you, doll. That boyfriend of yours has been taking up all your time leaving none for me.” He purred out to you before checking the watch on his wrist, “Nine-oh-one. You’re late. Might as well hang out in here with me.”

You had known Bucky since high school and somehow even ended up at the same college which he always claimed was a ‘happy accident’ or ‘fate.’ You didn’t know why, but he was infatuated with you. He was always cornering you against lockers or pulling you into empty rooms to slip out some sly line that always made your heart beat a little too fast and always managed to make you blush. You pulled your notebooks tighter to your chest as he leaned closer, forgetting how to breathe for a moment in his presence. You always felt something for Bucky, and he knew it, but the fact he couldn’t keep himself out of trouble was something that had always held you back from being with him, “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend as much time together as we used to, Buck… It’s just Charlie doesn’t really like you very much and I have a lot of studying to do.” Charlie had been your boyfriend for almost a year and he was so unbelievably sweet to you. He treated you like a princess and always gave you the warmest hugs and softest kisses. Well, almost the warmest hugs and softest kisses... There’s only been one other person that had Charlie beat and he was cornering you in a janitor closet.

Bucky chuckles a little at your excuse, shaking his head before resuming to stare into your eyes, “Oh, Y/N. My perfect little Y/N.” He said, lifting his other hand to gently run his knuckles along your cheek causing a shiver to run up your spine, “Do you love him?”

You pondered his question for a moment, slightly lost in those gorgeous blue eyes of his before nodding slowly, “I do, Buck. I really do love him.” You squeaked out. Bucky always made you nervous and your legs feel numb.

Bucky’s grin turned into a sweet smile towards you. He moved his hand that was stroking your cheek to lean on the shelf behind you as well, trapping you against the shelf now with both his arms. He leans his face closer until you could feel his warm, minty breath against your face and his lips were almost brushing against yours, “That’s fine, sweetheart.” He whispers out to you, staring into your eyes with his mischievous blue ones, “He may be your first love, but I intend to be your last. I’ll wait for you forever, doll.”

It had been a year since you graduated with your bachelors degree and also a year since you had seen or talked to Bucky due to Charlie. You had moved in with him right after graduating and that was when it seemed like his personality took a complete 180. He no longer left sweet kisses on your skin or gave you those warm hugs that made you melt. Instead those once sweet touches you craved had turned into violent ones you flinched away from. Charlie drank too much and that was when he was at his worst. He would lose his temper over what seemed small to you but was the end of the world to him. But you felt trapped. You had tried to leave once but he came home from the bar before you managed to slip out the door. He punished you for that, leaving you a shaking mess on the floor in the bathroom with a broken nose and bruises on your ribs.

It was the holiday season and Charlie had told you to decorate the house for a Christmas party he would be hosting tomorrow. You spent your whole day setting up a tree and decorating it as perfect as you could before moving onto decorating the rest of the house. You hung up the stockings on the fireplace and decorated the mantle with little nutcrackers your grandmother had passed down to you before she passed away. Once you were proud of the decorating of the house, you waited and waited for Charlie to get back from wherever he had went, assuming he went to the bar. You stripped out of your clothing and put on some comfy pajama pants and a tank top before pulling your robe over your body. You went to make some tea and sat on the couch, waiting for Charlie to return.

You tried to keep yourself awake on the couch, but slipped off into sleep sitting up with a blanket on your lap and the tv playing some late night television show. You were startled away with a crack, your eyes opening to see Charlie knocking off the nutcrackers from the fireplace and stepping on them one by one, “Charlie, what are you doing?!” You said, launching off the couch and trying to snag one of the unharmed nutcrackers.

Charlie immediately turned his gaze on you, gripping your wrist roughly before you could grab one of the nutcrackers, “What did I tell you?” He growled out, his eyes glossed over and his breath stunk of alcohol as he spoke to you.

“Honey… I decorated… I’m sorry if you don’t like it just… Just tell me what you were thinking and I’ll fix it…” You breathed out, trying your best to put on a smile to calm him. The grasp he had on your wrist tightened, causing you to wince, “C’mon, honey… let’s just go to bed and I’ll fix it all tomorrow before the party, I promise.”

Charlie shook his head at you, making light clicking noises with his tongue, “Oh baby… Why can’t you just get things right the first time?” He mumbled out to you before a harsh slap came across your cheek, making tears fall from your eyes as you whimpered for him to please stop, “You make it so hard to love you.” He said, moving his hand from your wrist to your cheeks, squeezing them harshly before shoving you back hard enough to make you run into the Christmas tree, knocking it over with a loud crash beside you on the floor.

You looked over to see him approaching you with that look in his eyes that you knew so well. He wasn’t going to stop and this wasn’t over. You scrambled to your feet, making a run for the bathroom to lock yourself inside but as you were shutting the door Charlie kicked it open, causing you to fly back against the counter and wince at the pain that shot up your arm when it hit the edge of the hard counter. You sunk to the ground, holding your hands up towards him as if to tell Charlie that you had been defeated, sobbing, “Charlie I’m so sorry… I’m so-“ Charlie cut off your sentence by landing a punch to your cheek before gripping onto your hair and pulling you up to meet his eye line, “You say your sorry every time and yet here we are again. You’re so disappointing and worthless.” He growled out, throwing you by the hair towards the tub which you stumbled over and fell into, bringing the shower curtain and rod toppling down on top of you. He was on you in seconds, slapping you again with the back of his hand where his college football ring managed to open up a large cut on your lip. He gripped the collar of your robe, pulling your face close to his, “I can’t even stand the sight of you.” He growled out before pushing you back into the bathtub. He stood up straight, placing a hand on his hip while the other ran through his hair slowly as he let out a deep sigh, “I’m going out. I expect this all to be cleaned up and when I get back you better be waiting for me in bed.”

You watched him exit the bathroom door with a slam, staying still with tears running down your cheeks until you heard the slam of the front door indicating Charlie had left again. You let out a loud sob, looking around the bathroom. You felt hopeless, worthless… lost. You needed to get out of here, get away from him. You pulled yourself out of the bathtub, wincing slightly when you got to your feet and noticed a large bruise forming on your thigh which you assumed was from when Charlie threw you into the tub. You forced yourself to look in the mirror at the injuries on your face- a nasty split lip, a cut on your forehead from when you were thrown into the tree and landed on the floor, and a bruise already forming on your cheek where he had punched and slapped you. You shook your head at yourself, wondering how you ended up here. Wondering what you had done to make Charlie turn into a monster.

You stepped out of the bathroom slowly on shaking legs, wincing at the pain in your arm and leg as you made your way to the bedroom, still sobbing. You saw your phone sitting on the dresser and the only thing that could pass through your mind is that you needed safety. You needed someone to help you. You needed Bucky. You grabbed you phone and prayed that his number was still the same, clicking his number and holding the phone to your ear.

“Hey, doll.” His voice was still like velvet, rolling off his tongue in a flirty matter and you just knew he had that crooked grin planted on his lips, “Been a while, how you been pretty girl?” You opened your mouth to speak but only a small sob came out of your mouth which made his tone change instantly to worry, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself so you could form words, “Bucky… I need you… I need help…”

You could hear him fumbling around, assuming he was pulling himself out of bed and throwing on clothes, “I’m on the way, just text me the address. I got you, darlin’.”

You breathed out an ‘okay’ before hanging up the phone, sending him a message of your address and slumped onto the floor of your bedroom, gripping the phone for dear life as if it was your only life line. Then you broke. Wailing and crying at the trauma you had endured for over a year and you couldn’t help but feel like Bucky wouldn’t be able to do anything to help you.

You heard the front door open and you fell silent, your body tensing as you wondered if Charlie had returned. You held your breath, hoping that you could just make yourself invisible if you were silent and still enough. Then you heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom in a rush and you looked up to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

Bucky broke just about every traffic law he could on his way over to your house, letting himself in and scanning the rooms for any sign of you. His brow furrowed when he saw the tree knocked over with broken ornaments and nutcrackers on the floor, wondering what had happened. Then he walked into the bedroom and saw you there on the floor, beaten with tears rolling down your cheeks and gripping your phone, “Oh doll, no.” He whispered out, walking over and kneeling down on his knees in front of you. He lifted your chin up and looked at the wounds to your face, “What happened, sweetheart?” His angel, his perfect little Y/N was there in front o him broken and it was breaking his heart.

You could see the anger in his eyes but his tone was nothing but soft and filled with concern. His touch was gentle which was an immediate relief to you, having not been touched gently for so long. You whimpered slightly and closed your eyes, shaking your head, “Bucky… Please… Just get me out of here…” You sobbed out.

Bucky gently ran his finger tips over your cheek, nodding towards you, “I got you, sweetheart. Do you have a bag anywhere?” He asks and you nodded, pointing over to the closet. He stood up and went to the closet, pulling out a suitcase and placing it open on the bed. Bucky came back over to you, kneeling down and taking your hands gently to help you stand, “What do you need?”

“Just… Just some clothes… I don’t know.” You mumble out to him, your body still shaking and you gripped onto him, worried you’d fall.

Bucky nodded, keeping one hand in yours and moving the other around your waist and helped you to sit on the bed, “You just sit here, I’ll get your stuff.” He told you with a small smile before going back into the closet. He grabbed as many of your clothes he could from the closet, quickly shoving them into the suitcase as you stared at a wall still shaking. Once Bucky was done in the closet, he looked around the room for anything else you may need. He went through the bedside draws, grabbing out your journal and throwing it into the suitcase as well as your phone charger. Then he went to the dresser and opened the drawers, pulling out anything that looked like it was yours such as bras, underwear, and some jewelry. Once he had the suitcase full he turned to look at you, tilting your head up to look at him with his fingers on your chin, “Is there anything else you need, sweetheart?” He asks softly and when you shook your head no, he zipped up the suitcase and lifted it by the handle with one hand and outstretched his other towards you.

You shakily take his hand, letting him pull you up from the bed and help you out of the bedroom headed straight for the front door. You pause when you see all the Christmas decorations ruined, releasing his hand and walking over to grab the only nutcracker that hadn’t been broken by Charlie. You pulled it into your chest before going back to Bucky’s side where he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and led you out of that terrible house and into the safety of his black truck.

Bucky kept his hand in yours for the whole drive, cranking the heat so you weren’t shivering as you were still in your pajamas and robe. He would glance over at you every so often to just see you staring at your bare feet and would give your hand a small squeeze as if trying to ground you. Once he got you back to his house, Bucky helped you through the front door where you were immediately met with familiar faces sitting on the couch watching a football game and drinking beer.

“Oh my god, Y/N?” Steve asked, standing up and walking over to you immediately, looking down at you with a horrified look on his face, “What happened?”

You looked up at Steve and tired to manage the best smile you could, “Hi, Stevie.” You say softly then notice Sam was right behind him and you half smiled towards him before looking back down at the floor, still clutching the nutcracker in your hands.

Bucky noted how uncomfortable you looked, not wanting to talk about what had happened yet, “I’m gonna get her upstairs guys, I’m sure we will have time to catch up later.” He said, giving Steve and Sam a look before leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He set the suitcase down on the floor and watched as you immediately sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the nutcracker in your hands. Bucky moved to sit next to you on the bed, rubbing your back softly, “Y/N, sweetheart, can you tell me what happened? Did Charlie do this to you?”

You kept your eyes on the nutcracker in your hands. At least Charlie didn’t get to your favorite one and you were able to bring it with you. He had red circles on his face for rosy cheeks and a long white beard with blue clothes painted on him and a matching blue hat. Tears hadn’t stopped falling from your eyes since Charlie left, “He just… changed, Buck..” You started, your voice barely above a whisper, “After I moved in with him, he changed. He started drinking a lot more… and then all this…” You lifted a hand to gesture to your wounded face, “All this just… happened. He was upset about how I decorated for Christmas…”

Bucky felt more rage than he had ever felt in his life for what you had been through, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He whispers to you, keeping his voice leveled as he didn’t want you to know how angry he was, “What can I do?”

You looked up into his eyes, scanning his face before looking back down at the nutcracker in your hands, “Can… can you just hold me until I fall asleep?” You ask softly, “I still don’t feel… safe.” Bucky had always made you feel safe even though he was quite the trouble maker. You wished you would’ve just given into your feelings for him then maybe none of this would’ve happened to you. And the way he looked at you… fuck, all those feelings you had for him just came flooding back in like you haven’t seen him for years.

Bucky smiles and nods, “Of course, doll. It’d be my honor.” He told you, “You’re always safe with me, sweetheart. But before we go to bed, why don’t we get you cleaned up?” When you nodded, he stood and left the room coming back with a frozen bag of vegetables, a damp wash cloth, and some rubbing alcohol. He cleaned your wounds on your face, making you hold the frozen vegetables to your cheek to help reduce swelling. Once you were all cleaned up to the best of his capability, Bucky helped you change into some clean pajamas since the ones you had on were slightly torn with spots of blood from your own wounds. It also gave Bucky a chance to assess the large bruise forming on your upper thigh. Once you were all changed, he got into bed with you, tucking the covers over your shoulders.

You stared at Bucky who was staring back at you with a small smile, gently stroking his fingertips along your arm to comfort you. After a few minutes of silence, you decided to speak, “I’m sorry, Bucky.” You whisper to him, “For not talking to you… He made me stop.”

Bucky smiled and shushed you, “It’s okay, doll. You’re here now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nod slightly and scooted a little closer to him, leaning your head on his chest though it made you wince at the touch but you didn’t back away, feeling safe and comfortable as he had always made you feel, “You’ve always been my person… Thank you.”

Bucky moved his hand to stroke through your hair softly before kissing your forehead gently, “And I always will be.”

Bucky helped you through a lot over the next six months. At first, you’d flinch whenever anybody made a sudden more towards you or something loud startled you. Bucky was always there right beside you though, taking your hand and leaving kisses along your knuckles to calm you down and let you know it was going to be okay. You stayed in his room, he had made room in his closet and drawers for all your clothes. You slept next to him in his bed everynight, feeling safe in his arms. Charlie had been calling your phone incessantly and one day after sixteen nasty text messages and an awful voicemail, Bucky left with Sam while you stayed in the house with Steve watching cartoons. After that day, Charlie never bothered you again and although you were worried about what Sam and Bucky had done to him, you were grateful to finally be able to move on with your life.

After Charlie had been taken care of, Bucky and you quickly got back into the groove of your friendship. He would flirt with you nonstop, always wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulder and leaving soft kisses on your forehead and nose. He even helped you with your nightmares, pulling you close and waking you up to whisper sweet and comforting things into your ear until you fell asleep again. Bucky grounded you, made you feel special. He was slowly making up for all the things Charlie had done to you, showing you how special you are and all the love you deserved.

You were curled up next to him in his bed, staring at his sleeping face as his arms were wrapped around you. He looked so beautiful laying there asleep that it made a small smile form onto your lips. You’d been kicking yourself the last few weeks mentally for not just giving into him years ago, wondering what your life would’ve been like if you just said yes when he asked you out everyday in high school. You bit your lip gently before whispering, “Bucky?”

“Hmm?” Bucky hummed out to you, keeping his eyes closed but a small smile formed on his lips at your voice.

You studied his features, nervous for your next words, “Did you mean what you said years ago? About being my last love?” You ask softly.

Bucky opened one eye to look over at you when you asked the question, his smile widening and he pulled you closer into his arms and kissed your nose gently, “Of course, doll. Why?”

You smile softly to him, watching him now open both eyes to stare at you curiously, “Because I… I love you. I always have and I’m sorry I wasted so much time not being with you.”

Bucky’s smile turned into that crooked grin that you swear was crafted by god himself, “You mean that, sweetheart?” He purred out to you, “You love me?”

You nodded slowly, “I do. And not just for saving me but everything you’ve always done for me. You’ve always treated me like I was important, worthy of love.”

Bucky shifted in the bed, rolling on top of you and staring down at you lovingly, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say those words, sweetheart.” He said down to you before lowering his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against your jaw softly making you let out a jagged breath at his touch, “Because I have always loved you. And I always will love you. We are meant to be, baby. Just took a little longer for us to get here.” He whispered out against your skin before his lips met yours, kissing you deeply while he brought a palm up to your cheek.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words, thinking it didn’t get better than this. But then he kissed you and it was like fire danced across your skin. Your hands went up to tangle in his dark hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been kissed so affectionately, felt so loved. You kept kissing him, not wanting to waste anymore time without feeling his love. You were finally his and he was yours.

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Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 3 years

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Having to deal with a de-aged s/o... (No. 2)

A/N: Hey guys... I know I haven’t been active on here for over a month now and I’m really, really sorry, but I had a really hard time in my life lately and even though that’s not over yet and surely won’t be for another while I felt so guilty for not uploading anything on here that I decided to at least try to manage to get back to updating somewhat regular and finally get around to answering the many requests in my imbox. For now I decided to make a part two to this because it was one of the few ideas that actually sparked some inspiration in me. I’m really sorry for the rant and I hope you can understand my situation. And now: have fun with some of our best girls ;)

No. 1

Ochaco Uraraka

The day you almost flew away

rip

nah it wasn’t so bad

But first things first

same scenario as last time

You’ve been de-aged by someone and Uraraka has teh option between either taking care of you for a day or you’ll be brought to to your parents or a teacher or something

Best girl doesn’t even hesitate before she says yes

She loves you so much and you look so so so so cute as a baby!!!!

Heart eyes personified

The only problem is she didn’t really think it trough

The first time Aizawa hands baby you to her she is so excited that she loses control of her quirk and let’s just say it’s a good thing Aizawa had his capture weapon with him, because otherwise

well

you’d be space dust

After that she tries to be more careful

BUT YOU’RE JSUT SO CUTE AND CUDDLY AND THE WAY YOU LOOK AT HER WITH YOU PUPPY EYES!!!

After the third time you almost floated away Momo finally has enough and makes one of these baby leashes for you

So class is spend with 25% learning and 75% percent oggeling at you floating and having the time of your baby life

The class loves you (except for the usual suspect Bakugo)

during lunch-break Uraraka proudly shows you around and the Dekusquad has the time of their life spoiling the shit out of you and getting you to giggle and laugh

After school she decides to take you out in the park and let’s just say getting you out of the tree your leash got caught up in was lesson enough to not let you flaot outside...

but still the two of you have the times of your lifes and she is so in awe with how cute and innocent and amazing you are as a baby

She’d definitly try to make you say her name just so that she could say your first word was her name, but that doesn’t really work out

One time she thinks you’ll finally do it, but instead you just burb making everyone laugh like mad man

at first uraraka is sad but soon she’ll join in

When it’s time to turn in she’ll definitly cuddle with you only to accidentally make you float when she’s already half asleep so she doesn’t release you

Wakes up to grown-up you poking her with the curtain rod

After that she sometimes starts talking about how nice it would be to have an actual mini you running around someday when both of you are grown-up and actual pro-heros...

Momo Yaoyorozu

THIS BEST GIRL WILL BE PREPARED!!!

She takes most things seariously and this is not different

She’ll most definitly accept taking care of you as a challege

It’s not completely unlikely that when she’s finally a pro-hero that she could be in a situation were she has to know how to handle a baby or toddler

So expect to be seen as a training

but at the same time you’ll be spoilt as hell because she wants to make sure you’ll be the happiest damn baby there ever was

she’ll make one of these baby stap carriages and strap you to her chest

she melts a little bit at the sight of you clutching her top and cuddling closer to her

she’ll make all sorts of toys and baby stuff for you

Everything to be prepared

you start to sniffle?

There, now you have an amazing stuffy and a pacifier

You seem to become restless and hungry?

Your baby-appropriat food will be ready and perfectly temperated in about a minute.

You do what babies usually do since they’re not adults?

Momo is prepared with Diapers and baby powder and stuff like that

She manages to keep you entertained and silent during class and honestly there’s little difference between this and how class usually is

(Also she’s one of the few who actually keeps in mind that you will be turned back soon and makes notes and everything so that she can explain everything they learned in class to you the next day)

During lunch-break she’ll take you out of your strap-thing and let’s you play with everyone in class she deems safe (that includes everyone except specifically Bakugo, Mineta and Denki, because she wouldn’t hold it above him that he’d accidentally shock you... We don’t have to talk about why Mineta and Bakugo are on that list...)

Denki will try the rest of the day to get to hold you tho and he will end up getting tied to a chair

After school she’ll too take you to her room and play some interlectually stimulating games and have you listen to some mozart

like she knows that there most likely won’t be any short-time effect, but you never know

also, don’t you dare tell anyone, but she has a guilty pleasure in dressing you up in cute little costumes that she made

like a cat-costume, or a little princess, or a little bee...

may or may not make pictures of you in a pg-mini-version of you in her costume that she’ll make her phone background.... who knows

When you become tired and she has to put you to bed she’ll actually dress you in very, very, very baggy clothes so that you won’t rip apart the baby clothes when you grow big again

She now definitly has a different view on taking care of children, she wouldn’t pass up on another opportunity to do so, but that has a lot of time to actually happen

Mina Ashido

THIS BEST ALIEN GIRL IS SO AMAZED

Like Uraraka she is definitly in awe with how cute and little and baby-like you are

She does have some minor worries tho

She definitly wants to take care of you, but she’s a little bit afraid that you’ll get hurt by her acid

But when you giggle and laugh and try to grap for her as soon as Aizawa presents you to her she’s made her decision to risk it

If anything happens, if you even get the smallest cut or burn, you will be brought to recovery girl

but spoiler alert! nothing happenes

Before we get to the usual scenarios, let me just make a few things clear

Mina loves having you sit on her head, holding yourself up by her horns, she’ll definitly tickle you until you’re giggleing like a mad baby and, seeing as even Bakugo won’t hurt a baby (at least not until it really fucked up), she’ll se the rare possibility to prank him and use you as a protection

Bakugo will be seething until you’re turned back and he can have his revenge on her

so back to topic

She’ll probably be the one to just straight up go to Aizawa and ask if she can skip out on the day to take care of you and she’ll definitly teach you how to be a noisy annoying little baby beforehand so that Aizawa will have the choice between not having her and you in class or having a noisy little baby in class

he choses the first option

Mina will thank him, leave the room and you’ll immeditaly stop whining and start giggling

the rest of the time the others are in school will be spend with you on her head and her walking through the city with you

she’ll probably go shopping with you

in as, she sits you down on a chair in front of the changing rooms and shows you different outfits

the ones that you clap and giggle at get bought the one you’re uninterested in get put back

when it’s time for school to end she’ll go back to the dorms and guilt trip Bakugo into making food for you (and her, but don’t tell bakugo that)

He swears, he’ll bomb that alien girl away as soon as you’re grown up again

Also you know how people sometimes throw babies up into the air and catch them again sometimes?

Well, Mina has to go for pretty aliens and leaves you in the...good?... care of Denki, Ejiro, Hanta and Bakugo

it takes exactly 4.6 seconds after she left for Denki, Ejiro and Hanta to play Ball with you

In as you are the ball

and they are throwing you from one to the next

Sure, you might love it and have the time of your life, but Bakugo - who somehow finds himself as the most responsible one in a twist of faite - is going up the walls trying to get you without you getting hurt

When Mina get’s back Denki, Ejiro and Hanta are laying on the floor with charred clothes, while Bakugo is holding you like you’re a bomb threatening to explode every second now (how ironic considering who the explody boy is, right?)

He’ll just thrust you into Minas hand and stomp away

After that Mina will take you into her room and get you ready for bed

When you wake up the next day, you’ll definitly remember having to thank Bakugo, but that could become hard when you consider that he’ll be hunting after your girlfriend...

A/N: Who would you like to see next? I’m having some ideas...or would you like something entirely else?

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academy #ochaco x reader #uraraka x reader #ochaco uraraka x reader #momo x reader #yaoyorozu x reader #momo yaoyorozu x reader #mina x reader #ashido x reader #mina ashido x reader #reader insert #x reader #headcanons

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

Text

Before the Demons Drag You Back

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Post-Ali, pre-Buddie, none Word count: 3,730 Warnings: Alcohol abuse / alcoholism / substance abuse

In the wake of the intense loneliness and distress Buck feels during the lawsuit, he turns to drinking to numb his mind in the unending, agonizing evenings alone. However, even once everything is resolved and he is back with the 118, Buck finds he can’t stop, spiraling deeper into a hazy pattern of denial and drinking that leads to a culmination involving the entire firefam.

Read it on Ao3

Buck wasn’t sure how it had come to this.

It had started during the lawsuit. Everything was so painful during those days, and he’d been so alone. Only Maddie was around to talk to, and Buck didn’t want to dump it all on her. He spent days on end alone in his apartment, unable to figure out what to do with himself. The minutes, hours, days dragged on, impossibly agonizing to bear. He couldn’t go to work, to the 118, pretty much his favourite place, his home. He couldn’t even call Eddie, his best friend in the world, the best friend who, at the time, was so pissed at him that Buck was sure that Eddie hated him.

So he’d turned to the only thing that made the bad feelings go away. Or as near to making them go away as possible; even numbness was preferable to those horrible emotions, the nights alone, lost in his misery. At first it was just a six-pack of beer in a night. That quickly turned into one and half, and then two six packs. Soon, beer wasn’t cutting it any longer and he changed to mixed drinks, rum and coke being his go-to.

He wasn’t sure when he switched from mixed drinks to drinking straight from the bottle; hell, he couldn’t even remember when the mixed drinks had stopped being mixed and become just rum. All he knew was that at night, when things became too painful to bear, the alcohol brought him a sense of numbness and detachment from his feelings, and he was extremely grateful to escape from them for a few hours, even if it meant a wicked headache or dry heaves the next day.

Presently, Buck was back with the 118. Things had been rocky at first, but eventually everyone had forgiven him. Even Eddie. And yet; Buck couldn’t help but feel like his luck would reverse once more. The weight of this anxiety pressed on him, combined with unpleasant memories and flashbacks, and more often than not, Buck returned to the bottle at night.

At first, it had just been after shifts or between days off, to make sure he wasn’t hungover for work. But eventually, the anxiety keeping him up at night, Buck started self medicating even on nights before shifts. He grew quieter at work, irritable, nursing a bottle of Tylenol and anti-nauseants on the really bad days. People noticed, but he played it off like he was just feeling under the weather, or that he’d been sleeping badly, which wasn’t actually far from the truth. He was pretty sure some of them didn’t buy it, but he maintained the lie obstinately, and most let him be. He started avoiding situations in which he was alone with Eddie or Hen, feeling like they were moments away from interrogating him but didn’t want to do it in front of the others. He avoided Bobby’s eyes as often as possible as well; considering his background, Bobby was sure to catch on sooner or later. Buck knew he needed to stop, that what he was doing was not the right way to deal with his anxiety and worries, but it was just so effective. And who was it hurting, really?

But then there came a day where it went too far. The night before a shift he’d had an argument with Maddie about something stupid and inconsequential, but it had riled him up. In an attempt to work off the feelings, Buck had gone for a jog, and somehow tweaked his previously-crushed leg in such a way that it sent pure agony through him, to the point where he’d had to stop and order an Uber to take him home. After limping inside and taking one of his old pain pills, Buck lay on the couch, miserable, in pain, plagued with flashbacks to his recovery after the accident. Without conscious thought, he reached for the mostly full bottle of whisky on the table and began to drink. Hours later, he was blissfully unaware as he passed out, still lying on the couch, his arm trailing off and reaching towards the nearly empty whiskey bottle that had fallen over and was dripping slowly onto the floor.

Buck was still completely unconscious the next morning when they found him. He hadn’t called in to work, and when he hadn’t shown up, they’d gotten worried. He didn’t hear the pounding on his door, the shouts for him to open up. He didn’t hear the key being inserted and turning as Eddie used his spare, didn’t hear them bustling in. He didn’t feel them shaking him, voices telling him to wake up. He didn’t feel them checking his pulse, pulling his eyelids back, checking to make sure he was alive. He had no clue that he’d been lifted and dragged to the bathroom, a dead weight in Eddie and Hen’s arms as they somehow wrestled him into the bathtub.

Buck was completely oblivious until a cold spray of water came down on his face, and even then it took many moments for him to properly react. Consciousness seemed to take a while to come, and he groaned, trying to flinch away from the water, but his position didn’t allow it. After a few moments he spluttered as the water came down even more onto his head, soaking his hair and plastering his clothes to his skin. Finally opening his eyes, he peered blearily up through the spray and felt his heart lurch as he realized he wasn’t alone. Eddie and Hen were staring down at him with what he could only imagine was deep disapproval, and he felt shame lick at him as he slowly realized what must have happened.

Once he was fully conscious, they helped him stand. As he stood, leaning heavily on the shower wall, Hen left the room to give him privacy and Eddie silently helped him out of his sopping clothes, then left him to shower. It took a long time; shame and a hell of a hangover made Buck’s movements slow, his head pounding, nausea rolling through him. His leg still ached, and he knew that he was going to get questioned the second he left the bathroom, which made him seriously consider just staying in there forever. He reluctantly finished showering and toweled off, seeing that someone had set some clothes for him on the toilet with his phone on top, the wet clothes Eddie had helped him out of draped over the towel rack, now dripping steadily on the floor.

After Buck managed to dress himself in the T-shirt and shorts that had been left for him, slipping his phone into his pocket, he clumsily threw the wet clothes over the shower curtain rod so they’d drip into the tub instead, then peered at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible; he was pale with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked absolutely exhausted. Buck ran a hand over his face and tried to think of a reason to delay the inevitable, but he came up blank. So, feeling like he was heading for his own funeral, Buck opened the door and moved slowly out of the bathroom, limping a little on his sore leg.

He had just been thinking that at least Bobby wasn’t there; as unpleasant as it was, he could deal with Hen and Eddie, but he didn’t think he could deal with Bobby’s disappointed expression. Unfortunately for him, as soon as he lifted his head to look into the kitchen, he saw that of course Bobby was there, standing at his counter. Chim was there too, the four of them standing around, waiting for him. Somehow the sight of them in full uniform was even more intimidating, and Buck swallowed hard. He felt his heart sink even more than it already had, and he dropped his gaze to the floor as he limped towards the kitchen island, feeling everyone’s eyes following him.

He pulled himself into a chair and looked down at his hands, worrying his fingers as he avoided all their gazes, his heart pounding. The bright sunlight streaming in through his wall of windows was sending sharp pains through his head but he tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way his mouth and throat felt parched, the way he longed for a drink, at this point a drink of anything, just to wet his throat. As though answering this thought, someone slid a glass of water in front of him and he chanced a glance upwards to see Hen looking over at him. He quickly averted his gaze.

“Thanks,” Buck muttered, his voice thick and hoarse. He tried to clear his throat, but it wouldn’t clear. He lifted the glass with a shaking hand and took a sip; the cold water fell upon his parched mouth and throat like rain over the desert and he let out a shaky breath of relief.

“How long has this been going on?”

Bobby’s voice broke through the silence and Buck winced as his head throbbed from the sound. He couldn’t meet Bobby’s eyes. He didn’t want to admit that anything was going on at all, but he didn’t really have a choice. They’d all seen for themselves; hell, they’d had to wake him out of a drunken unconsciousness. There was no point in denying it.

“Since the lawsuit, I guess,” Buck mumbled, staring at his water glass. There was a pause, and Buck continued to look down, not wanting to see their disappointment, their disapproval.

“So at least six months?” Hen asked, and Buck nodded, watching the way the water in his glass crawled up the sides as he turned it in his hands, his gaze never rising.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Eddie, this time. Buck did not miss the undercurrent of “why didn’t you tell me?” in Eddie’s tone, but he couldn’t respond to it. Why hadn’t he told them? Because he hadn’t thought it was a problem at first. Because once he’d realized it was, he was too afraid, too ashamed to admit anything was happening. Because he’d thought he could handle it on his own, even when it had become clear that he couldn’t. Because he, most of all, didn’t want to admit it to Bobby, whom he and Hen had found in the exact same way a few years prior. Because he was sure that Bobby would be disgusted with him, frustrated that he hadn’t learned from Bobby’s own example. And he hadn’t told Eddie, his best friend, because Eddie had enough to worry about with Christopher and his other problems to have to concern himself with a drunken Buck.

Unable and unwilling to relate all of this, Buck shrugged, still staring down at his glass. Anxiety was gnawing at his heart along with the shame and his hands continually turned the water glass, a nervous motion he couldn’t stop. He felt trapped by their gazes, unable to move but unwilling to stay. He wished the floor would open up under him and swallow him whole, just so they couldn’t see him anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Buck said to his water glass, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I’ve been stupid. I’m sorry for worrying you all.”

“You’re not stupid, Buck,” said Hen, and while Buck appreciated the words, he wasn’t sure he believed them. He shrugged again, swallowing hard as tears threatened. Buck sensed Hen coming closer, turning his head away from her as she put a hand on his back. He automatically wanted to pull away from her touch, but something stopped him. He’d been hiding this for so long, so sure that everyone would reject him instantly if they’d known his secret, that the fact that Hen was offering him even this small gesture of comfort gave him a tiny flicker of hope that not all was lost.

“We’re not judging you, man,” Eddie said, as Buck continued to fight against his rising urge to cry, desperate to hide his feelings. “We’re just worried about you.”

“We knew something was up,” Chim added. “We can tell you haven’t been yourself lately. When you didn’t show up for work today…” He trailed off, and Buck understood. If they’d already suspected what had been going on, then they must have had some inkling at what they’d find.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Buck repeated, his voice more hoarse as he fought to control himself. “You all have more important things to worry about than my stupid choices.”

He chanced a glance at Chim, whom he had pegged as the least likely to pull an emotional reaction out of him; Chim’s expression was clearly one of worry, and Buck quickly looked away again, having misjudged his assessment, tears threatening even more. Did he even deserve their concern? This was his own fault, after all. He was the one who had started drinking, knowing full well it was not a problem-solver. But then he couldn’t seem to stop, even though he’d wanted to, even though he’d been internally yelling at himself for weeks, trying to figure out how to fix this.

“Buck, addiction is not a choice,” Bobby said gently, once again proving he knew exactly what Buck was thinking. But of course, it made sense that he would know. Buck felt a sudden, intense connection with Bobby, knowing that he must have felt exactly as Buck had at some point before. “We’re here because we care. And we are going to get you help.”

Finally, Buck couldn’t handle it anymore. He looked up, meeting Bobby’s gaze across the counter. He saw nothing but concern there, nothing but a man who clearly cared about him, who understood what he was going through. He glanced at Eddie, and then Hen; the same expression was mirrored on their faces. He understood then that they weren’t there to chastise him, but to help, to offer support. Overwhelmed, tears finally spilling over, Buck buried his face in his hands as he broke down, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his sobs.

A moment later, he felt Hen’s arms wrap around him from one side, Eddie’s from the other. He heard footsteps and felt Chim join the hug from behind. Shakily, Buck clutched them back, holding onto Eddie and Hen’s arms, ducking his head as they pressed in on him. Though he was shaking, tears running down his face, Buck suddenly felt slightly lighter. He hadn’t realized how truly terrified he’d been of losing his family, but he knew now that he should have known better. They wouldn’t abandon him for this. They had never abandoned him before, even when he thought they had in the series of events that led to him filing the lawsuit. He’d been so afraid that things would fall apart again that he’d completely forgotten that he had people he could rely on, people who would have his back.

“Thanks guys,” he croaked after a long while, sniffing and taking shuddering breaths. They backed off enough to let him breathe, but Buck was happy when neither Hen nor Eddie withdrew entirely, each with one bracing hand on his back.

Buck wasn’t sure what to say to fill the silence that fell. He knew they were on his side, yes, but he was starting to feel embarrassed that they had found him passed out, that they’d had to revive him like that. He supposed that if Bobby could get over the embarrassment of it, he would too, but for the time being he felt extremely awkward. He swiped at his tears and took a sip of water to delay the moment he’d have to speak, though he was saved a moment later. Buck felt a sharp stab of pain in his temples as Eddie and Hen’s radios suddenly went off inches from his ears on either side, and he let out an involuntary gasp, flinching away from them. Feeling him react to the sudden sound, both Hen and Eddie stepped back, angling their radios away from him as he winced and put a hand to his forehead, trying to listen to the call coming in without overloading his hungover brain.

“We need to go,” Bobby said, as dispatch finished relaying their message. “Chim, Hen, go to the truck, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Right, Cap,” Chim agreed, shooting Buck a sympathetic smile and moving over to the door, waiting for Hen. Hen squeezed Buck’s shoulder and gave it a wordless pat, then followed Chim out the door and down the hallway.

“Eddie’s going to grab the bottles you have left for now, okay?” Bobby asked Buck, who nodded, avoiding their eyes again as shame bubbled to the surface once more. Eddie, responding to Bobby’s words, moved over to the counter to pick up the one bottle of rum that was visible.

“There’s more in the bottom right cupboard,” Buck said dully, not watching, but listening as Eddie opened the door, hearing the clink of glass bottles as he gathered them.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” Eddie said bracingly, and Buck glanced up at him. Eddie was standing there, holding his last few bottles of rum and vodka, but all Buck could see on his face was worry and concern, no trace of teasing or mocking whatsoever. Buck nodded, attempted a smile, and then Eddie was gone as well.

“It’s going to be okay, Buck,” Bobby said, and Buck slipped off the chair to stand as Bobby moved to his side. “It’s not going to be fun, but I promise you can do it. If I can, you definitely can.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Buck said, his eyes cast downwards. Bobby pulled him in for a brief hug, and Buck squeezed him tight, trying to put his gratitude into the embrace. “And I’m sorry, again. For missing work, too.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bobby said, pulling away, his hand lingering on Buck’s shoulder for a moment. “We’ll get through this as a team.”

Buck, unable to speak, nodded once more. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Bobby squeezed his shoulder and turned to leave, but then paused and turned back, looking thoughtful.

“I have a meeting later this week, and it’s not far from here. Would you like to come with me?”

Buck swallowed hard and looked up at Bobby, looked up at the man he regarded as a father figure, one of the most important people in his life. He knew that none of this was going to be easy, but somehow, the thought of sharing it with Bobby made it seem a little more bearable.

“I’d like that,” Buck agreed, his voice shaking but genuine.

Bobby smiled, nodded, then turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him. Buck limped over to his balcony and looked down, watching Bobby hurry from the building and jump into the truck. Whoever was driving hit the sirens and then they were away, leaving Buck alone with his overwhelming emotions once more.

Buck made his way back inside and looked around his empty apartment, feeling at a loss. He knew what he wanted to do, but thanks to Bobby and Eddie, there was no longer any alcohol in his apartment. He had mixed feelings about all of this, and he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that that was all part of the addiction.

Addiction.

He turned the word over in his mind as he forced himself to drink the rest of the water Hen had given him, then moved to the sink for a refill. It was funny how, in the weeks and months this had all been going on, he’d managed to avoid labelling his problem with that word. He’d acknowledged that he was drinking too much, that he was not helping his problems in a constructive way… but he had never called it an addiction, or alcoholism. He supposed it was an important step to acknowledge, however much he loathed to admit it, that he was an alcoholic. Just thinking the word was a shock to his system, his heart clenching, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

Buck sighed heavily and ran a hand through his damp curls, shivering as a droplet of water slipped down his neck. He was exhausted. He knew the best way to feel better was to sleep the hangover off, but he also knew he needed to replenish his fluids and have something to eat. He peered into his fridge and found a container of leftover lo mein, threw it into the microwave and drank the rest of the glass of water while the food heated. He poured himself another glass of water and sat down at the table with his food, slowly making his way through the container, even though all he wanted to do was pass out again.

Finally, after he’d finished his food and the third glass of water, Buck allowed himself to succumb to the fatigue. He limped to the bathroom and got himself another pain pill, as the throb in his leg was not relenting, then forced himself up the stairs so he could sleep in his bed. He didn’t want to face the couch yet, didn’t want to face the place where they’d found him.

Buck fell over into his bed, not bothering to change, and pulled the duvet over his head, sighing as he settled in. He felt emotionally spent and so full of confused, conflicting feelings that all he wanted was to sleep the day away. Just as he was drifting off, his phone chimed in his pocket, startling him - he’d forgotten it was there. He groped around under the blanket and found the phone, moving it towards his face and squinting into the bright light it gave off under the darkness of his covers, saw Eddie’s name above the text.

It’s gonna be okay. We won’t let you go through this alone.

Buck’s heart was heavy, but he smiled. Maybe things really would be okay, with Bobby, Eddie and the others at his side. Just maybe. Buck drifted off with the phone still clutched loosely in his hand, and his dreams, when he had them, all carried an undercurrent of hope within them, as though his conscience was telling him it was all going to be alright.

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creek-cryptid-deluxe · 3 years

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OH MAN OH MAN do I have an unexpected ridiculous chain of events for you, dear reader...

It all starts day before yesterday so... Friday. Yeah, that sounds right. Friday, The Spawn’s curtain rod over her window came crashing down (because apparently, while my dad’s mom taught me how to use tools and construct things, she didn’t teach her own son to anchor shit, especially in our fucking garbage walls) so I went up to fix it (I.E. put anchors in the goddamned drywall and add larger flat topped carpenter screws).

She and The BF are laying on her bed, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. There is much discussion about some new reality crap called Sexy Beast (I pointed out that of course they still were into each other when the makeup comes off, they are all gorgeous. I want to see that show with some dude who looks like Quasimodo and a chick who resembles the butler from Scary Movie 2. Let’s see if personality is enough for that shit. The Spawn defended her choice to watch it saying she hadn’t watched much; “I’m not really watching it, I’ve only watched ...”*scrolls through the episodes and starts laughing because she’s watched all but the finale.*) I’m facing the wall, because when using power tools, even if just a drill, one should pay the fuck attention.

Suddenly, from behind me I hear The Spawn, in a raised firm not quite yelling voice, say “NO! I’m not binging the fucking Twilight movies with you. I will watch a lot of trash but that’s where I draw the line. Absolutely NOT!” I slowly turn around to face them, my face a mixture of horror and disgust. The Bf says, “What? I like vampires.” They both start laughing, The Bf because of my face, The Spawn because she knows what’s coming... And what’s coming is my inner vampire lore loving goth self bubbling to the surface in absolute seething outrage at such blasphemy. And she’s gonna share her damned thoughts.

“Those aren’t vampires. Vampires don’t glitter. Full stop.” Then The Spawn went off about Kristen Stewart’s performance and I had to admit something shameful. “It’s not an issue with her acting. That’s legit just how that character is written. One of your Uncle A’s girlfriends bullied me into reading it, and despite literally throwing it across the room in rage repeatedly, at the time I still had that compulsion where if I started a book or series I had to finish it, so I read them all, then set them on fire out back, as was suitable. But can we talk about the age difference? This fool is over 100 yrs old and is obsessed with a 17 yr old?? Fucking gross.”

The Bf: “He’s 17!”

Me: “No, his body appears to be 17 because that’s the age he was when he was turned. I look 24, but that doesn’t make me 24. I’m still 35.”

At this point I was done and went back downstairs to let them fight it out.

Cut to yesterday, Saturday. The Bf was stranded here because The Spawn went out to a job and I guess his keys fell out of his pocket in her car. At some point I offered to let him watch something on my dope ass new tv (which looks better/more clear than real fucking life) because he is more social than The Spawn and doesn’t like to just hang in her room. We were discussing options because he has the desire to watch some stuff that The Spawn isn’t into like Marvel content and the Mandalorian. We were pondering & I jokingly said “But Twilight isn’t an option. I love you as if you were my own son, but I cannot condone that nor will I enable it.”

The Bf stumbled back clutching his chest: “Why you gotta attack me like that?”

Me: “That movie is an attack on vampires.”

The Bf: ”What’s wrong with it?”

Me (cue the inner goth rising again): “Bruh, those aren’t vampires. They may have been inspired by vampires but they absolutely aren’t actually vampires.”

The Bf: “Why not?”

Me: “When vampires go out into any amount of sunlight they fucking catch fire and die, not turn into fucking disco balls. I mean, they can try to pull a Deacon Frost, circa Blade, and just fucking bathe in sunscreen but even that is a dicey endeavor.”

The Bf: “Ok, but how you know that? Where are you getting this information?”

Me: “As a young goth, I was obsessed with vampires and there’s a significant number of things that are pretty standard across all of vampire lore, and that’s a major one.”

I then had to explain what ‘lore’ is. Which lead to us discussing various branches of ‘witchcraft’ and their differences, somehow.

But yeah... this 19 year old ex drug dealer apparently is a big Twilight fan....???? I mean, I’m a fan of some surprising things... I say as I listen to the Pretty in Pink soundtrack, but that was super out of left field.

as per usual: don’t steal my stuff. dickhead.

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wkemeup · 5 years

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Feel Again

summary: Instantly captivated by the woman the nurses have dubbed the ‘frequent flyer’ of the emergency department, Bucky can’t help but fall for Y/n. He relishes every moment he can spend with her and with her apparent clumsiness, it’s quite often. That is, until he learns the real reason behind her injuries.

pairing: doctor!bucky x reader

word count: 13k 😬

warnings: mentions of a physically abusive relationship (no direct descriptions of violence), descriptions of injuries

authors’s note: this def gets a little dark but I promise it’s worth it. please enjoy a very lovestruck/protective bucky 🥰

“Alright little man,” Bucky chuckled, brushing his hand over the curls of the three-year-old boy name Nico sitting in his father’s lap upon a cot. The busy chaos of the emergency department had Nico clinging onto his stuff stuffed stegosaurus for dear life, curled up against his father’s chest.

Small brown eyes looked up nervously as Bucky knelt down at Nico’s eye level. He pointed to the Band-Aid he had obtained special from the pediatrics floor on the boy’s elbow, light green and covered in small cartoon dinosaurs.

“Don’t go running down the stairs again, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

Nico nodded, his curls bouncing into his eyes. Bucky stood up with a grin and shook the hand of Nico’s father who apologized for the fifth time in as many minutes for bringing his son in for such a small cut. His wife was away on business and he had a bad habit of panicking at the small things when it came to their son.

“Always better to be safe,” Bucky advised, offering the nervous father an encouraging smile as he slid the chart into the basket at the end of the bed. The man hugged his son tightly before he reached for their coats, thanking Bucky again for his time. He watched as Nico’s father lifted him easily into his arms and carried him to the exit of the emergency department.

As they pushed open the doors, Bucky caught a brief glimpse of the night sky, blanketed in darkness and freckled in stars. Last he knew the sun was still above the skyline. He glanced up at the bright red numbers illuminated above the nurses’ station to read it was nearing on one in the morning. Bucky sighed, giving himself only a moment to breathe before he recognized Steve jogging in his direction.

“Buck!” Steve called over the loud chatter of irritable patients waiting for their turn and the constant beeping of about a dozen heart monitors. He shoved his way through a hoard of interns in light blue scrubs gathered over the bed of a man talking casually despite the knife protruding from his collarbone and grumbled something about ‘dough eyed idiots’ under his breath. Panting for a moment as he reached Bucky, he glanced down at the clipboard.

“I need you on bed eight.”

“You doing okay, Steve?” Bucky smirked, leaning against the countertop at the nurses’ station. “Looks like being head of trauma ain’t all it’s worked up to be. You seem a little overwhelmed.”

“We’re swamped,” Steve grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose. One of the nurses could be heard scolding an intern with defibrillator paddles in his hands as the patient was opening his eyes from a heavy sleep. “The interns are completely useless and I’ve got more patients than beds. This full moon shit is killing us.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky laughed, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he moved toward the bed at the end of the line. “Take a breath, Stevie. Sam’s on call for tonight. Why don’t you give him a ring?”

“Yeah I bet he’ll love that,” Steve rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll be sure to tell him it was your idea, too.”

"Wouldn’t that be a damn shame,” Bucky called over his shoulder, chucking to himself as he swerved his way through the crowd of people gathered for the injured soccer player in bed six.

Bed eight sat at the end of the series of cots lining the east wall of the department. It was tucked a little further into the corner, separated by a series of rolling carts and machines, so it at least felt slightly less claustrophobic than the rest of the beds around here.

The curtain was drawn around the bed, obstructing the patient from view, so Bucky took a minute to glance over the chart.

Y/n Rumlow. Female. No record of prior medical history, which was a bit unusual, but the nurses had at least taken down note that the presenting problem was pain and swelling at the wrist. Shouldn’t be too difficult to manage. He could have her out of here in a few minutes and on to the next patient before Steve started flogging the interns or actually woke up Sam, for which Bucky would face some serious death glares for the rest of the night.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the well recited speech he usually doled out to patients.

With a quick tug, Bucky swung open the curtain, eyes still glued to the clipboard, “Good evening, ma’am. My name is Dr. Barnes and I’ll be--”

A yelp sounded over the metal rings sliding against the rod over his head and Bucky froze.

He glanced up over the brim of the chart to find a young woman sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in light wash jeans and a sweatshirt with faded lettering worn with years of use. Her hair was tied up away from her face, like she had thrown it up last minute before leaving the house, messy strands falling down from the bun. The faint discoloration of dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and the imprint of what appeared to be the fold of a pillow case on her cheek.

Bucky noticed almost instantly that she was undeniably, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She was gingerly resting her right wrist against her knee just over the rip in of jeans. Her phone sat on the bed by her hip, softly playing music from the speaker as the headphones must have yanked accidentally from the plug. Wide eyes, a breath coming in too quick, a hand stabilizing against her chest, and Bucky realized he had startled her.

“Sorry I scared you there, Miss, uh,” Bucky chuckled nervously, glancing down at the chart for her name again, “Rumlow.”

“Y/L/n-Rumlow, actually,” she corrected with a soft, almost proud, smile and Bucky wondered if he ever heard a voice as sweet as hers before.

She pulled the headphones from her ears and quickly turned off the music playing from her phone. The strum of the guitar silenced, something that sounded familiar to Bucky though he couldn’t quite place it, and the unnerving noise of a busy ER filled the room again.

"Y/n is just fine,” she added and Bucky’s heartbeat kicked up.

“Okay then, Y/n,” Bucky smiled back at her as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, enjoying the way her name felt on the edge of his lips. He swallowed, cursing at himself for the flush in his cheeks that seemed to redden the longer she looked at him.

He had a job to do. Might as well focus on that instead of the anxious energy surging in his veins.

He gestured for her hand. “Why don’t I take a look at that?”

“I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time. I’m sure there’s someone who needs your help more than me right now,” she said nervously, glancing down at the series of bed filled with patients and the bustling families around them.

Bucky noticed then that she was alone, and he wondered why that was.

“I’m sure I’m probably fine,” she continued with a shrug, “but I didn’t want it to get worse, you know?”

Bucky nodded, watching the way she kept glancing down at the eight-year-old in bed five who hadn’t stopped coughing since he arrived, skin flushed red and sweat dripping down his back. His mother sat on the cot with him, running her hands along his damped hair as the poor boy looked like he was about to faint at any minute.

“You’re not preventing anyone else from getting care,” Bucky assured her genuinely.

Steve approached the boy and his mother just a moment later and Bucky nodded down towards them. Y/n followed his gaze and her lips curved up against her cheeks, watching intently as Steve took off his stethoscope and let the boy listen to his own heartbeat. A grin broke through the boy’s tired face and he gestured excitedly for his mom to try.

“I’m sure you see a lot of pain working in a trauma center like this,” she said, gaze still trained on the boy, watching him with a kind of secondhand joy that made Bucky’s stomach weak. He didn’t know people were still this genuine. She turned back to him. “Do you have good moments like that, too?”

Bucky nodded, his cheeks a little sore from smiling. No one had ever asked him that before.

“We do, actually. The good moments aren’t always cute kids, though.” He could feel her eyes on him and he took a deep breath, continuing. “Sometimes, the good moments are when a patient’s heart rhythm picks up again after flatlining long past when someone else would have called it or when we’re able to stabilize a patient coming in from a car wreck long enough to get them up to the operating room or when we catch a tumor in a scan for a concussion that’ll probably end up saving their life. That kind of stuff happens more often than you’d think.”

Bucky didn’t realize how wide he was smiling, caught up in the memories, until he noticed the bewilderment with which Y/n was watching him, eyes practically sparkling, as he was lost in his own world to just talk about what made this job worth all of the bad timing and the lost causes.

“But a lot of times it’s the cute kids,” Bucky added, chuckling softly under his breath.

“It’s really nice that you care so much about what you do,” Y/n said, almost longingly with a bit of an ache in her voice that Bucky didn’t catch. “Not everyone is fortunate enough for that.”

Bucky shrugged, trying to brush it off casually. He glanced down at her wrist, noticing the way she was favoring it as she had pulled it closer to her hip bone.

“I should probably take a look at that, then. Since I care so much,” Bucky said with a teasing smirk, one that somehow made her smile even wider and he swore he could just stare at the way her lips curved so sweetly against the soft hue in her cheeks for eternity and be content.

“Right, of course,” she giggled, extending her arm towards him.

She hissed as he took her wrist carefully into his grasp, a frown pursing over her lips and Bucky cursed himself for being the cause of it. He ran his fingers carefully over the swollen area, light bruising forming at the surface, and he glanced up to gage for her reaction to find her pulling her lower lip into her mouth, biting at the dry skin.

“What’s the damage, doc?”

“It’s definitely sprained,” Bucky admitted, reaching for the cart next to the bed and dragged it towards him. The wheels clicked against the tile surface and he pulled open the second to top drawer, rummaging through the supplies until he pulled out a long, tan bandage. “I’m going to wrap this, alright? It may hurt a bit.”

She nodded as Bucky began to unroll the bandage. He glanced up at her, finding himself wanting to know more about a patient than the necessary questions for the first time in years.

He wanted to know what school that sweatshirt was from because he couldn’t quite make out the faded lettering on his own. He wanted to know what artist she had been listening to when he startled her and if she made playlists for the weather and obscure kinds of moods like he did. He wanted to know if her eyes were naturally such a warm, inviting hue or if she smiled like that at everyone or if she wanted to go to dinner Friday night--

Wait.

Focus.

Bucky set the beginning of the bandage at the inside of her wrist and began to wrap it carefully around her arm and then up around her palm between her thumb and pointer finger, and then back around her wrist twice. As he worked, he could sense her eyes on him, watching, and he found himself needing to ask her more questions just to hear her voice again.

“So, no medical history, huh?”

“Just moved to the area,” she replied quickly, a little flatter than what her tone had been before though Bucky didn’t pay it any mind. “Haven’t had a chance to find a primary doc or transfer my records yet.”

Bucky nodded, satisfied enough with her answer, though he didn’t notice the way her shoulders seemed to sigh in relief when he didn’t probe further. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for patients to show up without a medical history, especially if they were from out of state or hadn’t been to a provider within the hospital’s network before. He didn’t think too much of it.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened that you sprained your wrist at this time of night?” Bucky asked playfully as he secured the adhesive end and released her hand.

She flinched slightly at his question and Bucky narrowed his eyes, pausing for a moment to watch her as she averted her gaze to his hands. She shrugged, though a sliver of hesitation slipped in before she spoke.

“Oh, I just tripped over some shoes in the hallway coming back from a shift. Landed wrong.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unsure. He swore he remembered seeing the indent of a pillow crease on her cheek when he first sat down, like she had woken up from a deep sleep, but then she started to laugh. She had those crinkles up by the sides of her eyes that made Bucky’s stomach flutter and he couldn’t remember why he asked in the first place.

“I’m pretty clumsy, actually,” she sighed with that grin that made Bucky’s stomach churn. She brought her left hand up to her lips to hide the smile Bucky couldn’t seem to look away from as a blush filled her cheeks.

That was, until he noticed the flash of a diamond reflect under the florescent lights and his heart sank.

He shouldn’t be surprised; didn’t know why he was. A girl like that, so effortlessly beautiful and a smile that could instant light an entire room; he didn’t have a chance. Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek, forcing out a grin to match hers despite the disappointment wallowing in his stomach.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long,” Bucky said as he stood from the bed, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. “Just make sure you ice that and get yourself a primary doc, okay?”

She nodded quickly, gathering her phone and headphones into her bag before she slid herself off the side of the bed. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I really do appreciate your time.”

“Bucky,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You can call me Bucky. You know, if you, uh, ever find yourself back here which I, um, of course hope you... don’t.”

Cheeks flushed red with an embarrassment he was entirely unused to talking to a woman and Y/n grinned so wide he was sure the corners of her lips might touch her ears. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Okay, Bucky,” she said sweetly and he wanted her to say his name a dozen more times. “Hope you have some good moments tonight.”

Bucky smiled, giving her a subtle wave as he watched her disappear into the crowd of doctors and patients before he caught sight of her again by the door. She paused, digging into her bag for her phone, brushing a fallen hair behind her ear and huffing it out of her face when it fell back a second later. The soft pout on her face made Bucky’s legs weak. Once she pulled the phone from her bag, a frown pursed over her lips and her shoulders seemed to stiffen. Bucky was about to walk over to make sure she was alright when he felt a nudge in his shoulder.

“You look like a complete idiot, just so you know,” Sam grumbled, arms folded over his chest as he clearly was following his gaze.

Bucky tore his eyes away from Y/n reluctantly as Sam began to snicker to himself. He grabbed a chart out of the hands of an intern as they walked by and tracked down some kid named Peter Parker in bed two with a glorified bug bite.

When he looked for Y/n again, she was gone.

***

“You’re thinking about the girl from bed eight again, aren’t you?”

Bucky lifted his head from his arms folded against the countertop of the nurses’ station and sent a glare in Sam’s direction. He hadn’t had a decent night sleep in four days and he was coming off a thirty-six-hour shift, the lack of sleep evident in the bags below his eyes and the messy wave in his hair. He only agreed to stay an extra hour to help Steve with the transition of interns coming onto the night shift so his patience was incredibly thin, especially for Sam’s antics.

“She’s married, Sam,” Bucky groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t matter if I’m thinking about her. She’s not available.”

“Maybe it’s a green card marriage,” Sam offered and Steve wacked him upside the head. He shrugged, seemingly unbothered, though he ducted out of Steve’s reach before he spoke again. “Maybe the guy’s emotionally unavailable and she’s looking for a way out. Or... maybe she’s in the market for some side action.”

Sam bumped Bucky’s hip with his own, making some ridiculous cooing noise. He apparently found himself to be incredibly hilarious as he nearly doubled over laughing at Bucky’s non-reaction.

“It’s been three weeks, Buck,” Steve said cautiously, shoving Sam away and stepping between the two as usually found himself doing. “Maybe you should let Nat set you up with the nurse in cardiology.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Look, I appreciate the thought but I’m way too busy for--”

“Dr. Barnes?” one of the interns came up behind him, timid voice barely heard over the hustle of the ER. Bucky turned around to face her. Wanda, he thought. She handed him a chart. “Bed fourteen is asking for you specifically.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell her that we don’t--”

“Thanks Wanda,” Bucky pressed out a smile, interrupting Sam as his eyes fell upon the name listed at the top of the chart.

Sam glanced rather obviously over his shoulder and started chuckling to himself, saying something to Steve Bucky knew would only come at his own expense, but he took off towards the west side of the department without waiting to hear what is was.

He couldn’t seem to get there quick enough. Several interns tried to snag him away as he walked past, asking questions they should have learned in their first year, but he shrugged them off, gesturing for one of the nurses to assist them instead. The nurses always seemed to know more than the interns anyway.

Sure enough, as he turned the corner, there she was.

Hair cascading down over her shoulders, exposing the soft curl amongst messy waves he hadn’t seen the last time she visited. She was in black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, almost as if she had just crawled out of bed and still, she was hands down the most captivating person within view.

Her eyes glanced around the room, almost curiously, just watching the doctors as they scribbled their messy handwriting into charts, nurses as they drew IV and scowled at the interns, and patients as they muttered amongst one another, complaining of the noise and the long wait time. Bucky found himself grinning before he even took another step in her direction.

She hadn’t noticed him approach the side of the bed and when he cleared his throat to say hello, she recoiled away as if something had burned her. Her hand clasped to her chest, breath picking up in pace, eyes wide in such a familiar state to when Bucky first met her.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky blurted out, sliding her chart into the basket at the end of the bed. He scratched nervously at the back of his head. “Man, I’ve got a habit of scaring you, don’t I? Guess I should learn to walk a little louder...”

Y/n relaxed instantly as her eyes fell upon him, a blush burning in her cheeks as she grimaced at him, though it turned into that sweet smile Bucky missed so much.

“No, no it’s my fault,” she waved him off, laughing nervously. “I startle easy.”

Bucky nodded, already feeling a contentment just being around her again. He didn’t know it was possible for someone to captivate him so quickly, so easily, without much effort at all. The way she was looking up at him, under thick lashes and a soft red in her cheeks, Bucky felt like he could melt.

“So, what’s going on this time?” Bucky smiled, pulling up a stool and wheeling it under him as he sat next to her bed. She extended her right hand in his direction, wrist covered in the bandage that should have been removed over a week ago.

“I think I messed up your good work,” she frowned, her gaze darting to the ground, almost shamefully. It sat in startling contrast to the kind features in her face.

“It’s not my work I’m worried about,” Bucky said lightly, hoping to get her smiling again. “What happened?”

Y/n didn’t respond for a moment. Instead, her eyes were focused on the way Bucky’s hands grazed over her wrists tenderly, careful not to put too much pressure, his own eyes flickering up to hers every once in a while to make sure he wasn't accidentally using too much force.

“I um,” Y/n started, slowly bringing herself to meet Bucky’s eye when he paused, waiting for her to respond. A smile curved at her lips, though something felt a little off about it. “I tripped over the damn cat. Can you believe that? If I’m gonna fall so much maybe I shouldn’t use my wrist as my landing support, huh?”

Bucky nodded apprehensively, watching the way the smiling didn’t quite reach her eyes. But then again, it was nearing midnight and he was coming off a thirty-six-hour shift. Maybe he was just seeing things.

“Guess I should count myself lucky you’re so clumsy then,” Bucky said, flashing her a smile. “Didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

She bit on her lip in an effort to suppress the grin pushing at her cheeks and the light sparkled in her eyes again. Bucky chuckled under his breath as he started to unwrap the bandage, exceedingly cautious to touch her skin with only the gentlest of pressure.

She hissed as he pulled the bandage from her arm and the cool air brushed over the skin. Bucky narrowed his eyes, studying the swelling, though he was surprised to see some green and yellow marks, bruises about a few days old, wrapping around her wrist. They looked almost like stripes.

“When did you start to notice the bruising?” Bucky asked curiously, lifting her arm slightly to examine the other side.

“Oh, that’s been there for a while,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know,” Bucky started, thinking aloud as he took a closer look, “it almost looks like...”

Fingers? A hand print?

Bucky stopped himself before he could ask. He was sure he must be seeing things. He really needed to get some rest after this shift. Bucky sighed, gesturing for the nurse who walked by to bring him a few of the breakable cooling packs they reserved for favorite patients.

“Think I’ll be okay, doc?” she asked light-heartedly, retracting her wrist from his touch when he had stilled his movements and he was simply holding her hand. He swallowed nervously, not even realizing he had been doing that.

Bucky cleared his throat, nodding quickly to distract from the warmth in his cheeks. The nurse set the cooling packs on the edge of the bed and Bucky thanked her quickly. He picked one up and slid the rest into Y/n’s bag before she could do it herself.

“Use one of these once a day. You just break the bag at the center, like a glow stick, alright?” He snapped the bag, demonstrating how to activate it, and handed it to Y/n. She smiled in appreciation and let it set over her wrist.

"Let your wrist rest without the bandage at night if you can,” Bucky added. “I think you’ll be just fine, Y/n.”

“Thanks, Bucky. You’re a real savior,” she said as her left hand reached out for his and squeezed it firmly.

His eyes were drawn down immediately, staring at her hand upon his, the flicker of her diamond ring barely catching his attention from the way her fingers curled under his palm and her thumb brushed against the back of his hand soothingly. Her hand was so small compared to his, barely covered over his at all, but he could feel the warmth of it, the softness of her touch.

When she pulled her hand back again, Bucky missed it instantly.

“Take care, Y/n,” Bucky said, brushing aside the feeling swelling in his chest as he helped her to her feet. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to see me for a while this time,” Y/n offered, glancing up at him in a way that made his stomach a little weak. There was something unreadable behind her eyes, something that looked a little like longing, though he was certain he was just seeing things.

She was married, after all.

Bucky watched, again, as she made her way to the exit, sliding out of the way of the incoming swarm of interns barreling their way through the ED. She made herself small as she squeezed by a few family members of the patient in bed eighteen, too polite to even ask them to step aside. Then, she paused at the door, her shoulders rising with a deep, heavy breath, before she took a step forward and out into the night.

Bucky turned to head back to the nurses’ station when he found Sam standing behind him, shaking his head as hands planted on his hips.

“Man, you’ve got it bad."

“Shut up, Sam.”

***

It wasn’t the last time Bucky found Y/n in his ED. Over the next few months she’d come in for various injuries, requesting to see him specifically, and miraculously only needing to come in during the overnight shifts Bucky usually worked. It would be a twist in her ankle, or a soreness in her ribs, or sometimes an ache at her knee. She came in enough that the nurses began to dub her as a frequent flyer, though Bucky put a stop to that rather quickly.

She’d stay a little longer than necessary and Bucky would find himself moving a little slower when he examined her, just hoping to savor a bit of their time together.

He’d learned that she used to work as an editor at one of the most prestigious newspapers in the city until she stepped down once she got married, though she didn’t say why. He learned that she liked going to the zoo and just sitting by the red panda exhibit, waiting for them to come out from their hiding places or just to watch them sleep. He learned that her family lived out of state and she hadn’t seen them in a while, though she missed them terribly. He learned that she cared more about the lyrics in a song than the melody and would rather go to a dive bar with a band than a busy club on Saturday nights.

The more he learned about Y/n, the more he wanted to know. He could spend every minute just asking her questions, though he obliged her when he found that she seemed to want to know just as much about him.

So, he’d tell her about Steve; reluctantly, about Sam, too. He’d tell her about his years in medical school and the complete lack of a social life he had, though she didn’t seem to buy that for a second. He’d tell her about the tour he spent in Afghanistan as a field medic and how he nearly lost his left arm in an explosion. He’d tell her about how he liked to go to the batting cage on weekends and about the best ice cream shop in the whole city. He’d even tell her about his fascination with Stark Industries and she’d let him rant for a solid ten minutes on their new project that was set to redesign emergency medicine in the field for decades.

Every moment he spent with her left his heart swelling and it didn’t matter to him when she twisted and pulled at the ring on her finger absentmindedly as they talked. He was just happy to be around her, even if this was all it was going to be. A few stolen moments amongst a crowded emergency department, finding that when he looked at her, she was the only one in the room.

It had been nearly a month since he’d seen her last and part of him was thankful she was able to keep herself unharmed and managed not to trip over something else for a while, but he missed her like crazy. He’d find himself looking towards the entrance of the department every so often, a dozen times a shift, searching for her amongst the crowd.

Though, he knew it was unlikely he’d find her today. He agreed to do a double shift for Steve when Nat called out sick, so here he was, attending to patients with the sun shining outside for a change. Y/n only seemed to come in at night so at least now he’d be able to focus on something other than missing her voice or the sweet way she’d smile at him or the flicker of light in her eye when she --

“Dr. Barnes?” a voice called, rough around the edges from years of smoking.

Bucky blinked, pulling his attention back to the middle-aged man sitting in bed eleven. The man coughed again; an awful sound that probably ruptured something deep in his lungs. Bucky sighed, fiddling with the chart in his hands.

“You need to lay off the cigarettes,” he said simply, focus regaining on his task at hand. “You’ve got tar build up in your lungs and it’ll only...” his voice trailed off as a clanging sound erupted further down the hall, pulling his attention, as a nurse rushed to pick up the supplies that had been knocked over. Bucky shook his head, glancing back at the chart.

“It’ll only get worse if you keep smoking like this,” he continued, shrugging. “I can prescribe something for smoking cessation, but that’s the best I can...”

Again, a commotion at the end of the hall. Bucky narrowed his eyes, ignoring the way his patient grumbled under his breath, and he tried to get a better look.

“Sorry! Sorry, shit, I—I didn’t mean to cause such a mess,” a voice stammered out, one so familiar that Bucky quickly handed off the chart to the resident observing over his shoulder without a second thought and headed in the direction of the commotion.

The patient was calling after him, complaining about his terrible bedside manner as Bucky stalked off but it hardly even registered when he saw Y/n’s cheeks flushing red, stumbling over her words.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a moment of relief in his chest short lived by the way he noticed she was holding her hands; out right, like she was carrying an invisible platter, only her palms were red with blood. One of the nurses was gesturing for her to follow him to one of the open beds, pulling her away by a harsh hand on her elbow from the mess of supplies along the floor she had knocked over. His impatience was evident in his shoulders, the way he rolled his eyes at her, and a heat boiled in Bucky’s chest.

“I can take it from here, Grant,” Bucky called, jogging towards them as he grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the counter. He glanced briefly at Y/n, who’s eyes bulged at the sight of him, a near look of panic flashing over her features that Bucky didn’t quite expect.

“Bucky!” she gaped, swallowing thickly. “I didn't think you'd... Don't you work nights?”

Bucky shrugged, curving his lips into a smile for her the way he usually did. “I agreed to take an extra day shift to help Steve out. Lucky timing, huh?”

Y/n nodded, though she didn’t return his smile. It was unusual for her and it made Bucky raise an eyebrow in concern, though she tore her gaze away from him before he could ask what was wrong. It was then Bucky noticed Grant impatiently tapping his toe, waiting.

“We’re good here,” Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line. “Thanks.”

Grant rolled his eyes, letting go of Y/n’s elbow, and while her shoulders seemed to relax, her hands were still held stiff, her stare firm to the floor. Timid. Almost fearful. So unlike the light-hearted, quick witted woman he knew. It didn’t sit well with him.

Bucky swallowed, tugging on the gloves before he reached out towards her absentmindedly and let his hands cup the back of her own, holding them steady in place. He shook his head as he examined her palms, a deep red coating in the insides of her hands, shards of glass embedded in tiny fragments amongst the surface. Stealing a glimpse at her face, he noticed the faint reflection of tracks down her cheeks, like she had been crying. His stomach twisted into knots at the mere thought of it.

He glanced back at the line of occupied beds before he caught sight of the open door at the end of the hallway.

“Follow me.”

He led Y/n down the busy hall, past several patients who had been waiting hours before her and the dirty looks that followed, before he gestured for her to step inside of the exam room. He flicked on the light switch as she stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him. She had already taken a seat on the cot when he grabbed a chair and slid it up beside her.

He gestured for her hands again and she gave them over hesitantly. Bucky glanced up at her, noticing the way she avoided his gaze, shielded under his stare for the first time since he’d met her. As he held her hands in his own, he let his thumb brush comfortingly along her knuckles, trying to ease her discomfort as he took a better look at the glass puncturing her skin.

“I’m gonna have to pull the shards out with tweezers,” he said after some time, unable to come up with an alternative plan that would spare her more pain. She nodded, still yet to meet his eye. Bucky grabbed the kit from the drawer and pulled a pair of tweezers out. “This’ll probably hurt a bit. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

As he moved the metal rods to grip the first piece of glass, starting with the smallest fragments first to avoid additional blood covering his view, and tugged it out of her hand with a sharp movement. She let out a yelp in response, unprepared.

“Sorry,” she gritted through her teeth, a flush of embarrassment in her cheeks.

“No need to apologize, Y/n,” he replied sincerely and she seemed to relax a bit at that. “I’ll work fast, alright? It’ll be over in no time.”

She nodded in agreement and Bucky could feel her eyes on him as he worked. Each shard he pulled from her hands elicited a muffled whimper she’d try to hide from him. She’d bit down on her lip, tuck her face against her shoulder to hide the tears welling in her eyes, but he noticed. He cursed his own hands for bringing her this pain.

Hoping he could distract her as he moved to pull out the larger pieces in her hands, he let his mind wander to the question that had been swarming in the back of his head.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked carefully, keeping his eyes trained on her hands as he plucked out a rather large shard embedded into the lifeline in her palm. She winced as the glass clanged into the metal cup next to him. A few more pieces and he’d be done.

Her silence didn’t slip past him as he continued to work, though he didn’t push her just yet. He was already causing her pain by tugging at her broken skin, there was no need to add to that. When he finally got to the last piece in her left hand, Bucky pulled it out quickly and let the tweezers fall into the cup amongst the glass shards. The two of them exhaled in relief.

As Bucky reached for the disinfectant wipes and the gauze he would need to wrap her palms, he warned her that it would sting. He pressed the alcohol-soaked cloth to her right palm and she bit back a whimper, one that made Bucky’s stomach churn. He muttered an apology under his breath as he wiped away the excess blood and wrapped her hand in the soft material. Then, he moved to the other to repeat the process again.

Once her hands were wrapped and Bucky peeled away the latex gloves, tossing them into the disposal bin by the door, she cleared her throat.

“I, uh, dropped a pair of wine glasses,” she mumbled and first the first time that day she met Bucky’s eye. There was something clouding the light in her eyes that Bucky found himself so drawn to every time he was able to steal a few moments with her. She didn’t carry her usual carefree charm or the sweet smile that made Bucky’s knees weak or the laugh he could have listened to for hours on end. Something was off, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

“It was so stupid,” she continued, shaking her head. “The wine spilled everywhere, all over the white tiles and Brock—Brock was so mad, he nearly--” she paused, biting on her lip hard enough to stop the words from spilling out.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, an ache in his chest hearing her husband’s name for the first time. The way she said it, her voice practically shaking, Bucky found himself desperate for her to finish that sentence, though he couldn’t find the strength to ask her to do so.

Instead, she let out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve just lost my balance or something while I was trying to clean it up and caught myself on my hands, right in the glass all over the floor. It was my fault. I can be so clumsy.”

Bucky nodded, though there was a part of him, bigger than he wanted to admit, that didn’t believe her. The way she spoke, it was almost void of emotion, like she had said those words too many times for it to be real, like it had been taught and rehearsed in front of a mirror.

“You’re always so kind to me Bucky,” she said in a whisper, a lingering of remorse in her words that took him off guard. “I take up so much of your time here. I’m sure you have better things to do than pull glass from my hands. I bet even one of your interns could have done it.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Bucky teased, hoping to ease the obvious ache in her voice. He offered her an encouraging smile as he glanced down, realizing he was still holding her hands in his, though she made no movement to pull away. “I... I like when you take up my time.”

Bucky sighed, staring at her hands in his own, running careful fingers over the soft exposed skin, trying to gather some courage.

“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I...” Bucky licked his lips, a nervous shake of his head, and he let the words he had been holding back since he met her tumble out. “I miss you when you’re not here. I don't ever want to see you hurt but... when you walk through the door, it’s the best part of my day. Everything is just better when you’re around. I don’t remember the last time I felt this way... about anyone.”

Bucky glanced back up at her to find her lips parted in shock and a longing behind her eyes that made his stomach weak.

“I... I don’t deserve that, Bucky.”

Her gaze fell down to his lips and Bucky swallowed.

“You deserve the world, Y/n,” he replied and it was the easiest thing he ever said. Her breath hitched at his words.

“Bucky, I--” she exhaled and he could feel it against his cheek. When he had moved this close to her? At what point did he start leaning in? When did she meet him halfway?

His hand had found its way up to her neck, gently running his thumb over her jawline until she met his eye, speckles of light returning between the colors in her iris the longer he held her like this. They were so close, unbearably so, that he noticed the undertones in her iris for the first time and the faint markings of a scar along her forehead. He could stare at her for hours and find new features to appreciate, to want to kiss and hold and love.

He’d never fallen for anyone so fast before and despite the laundry list of questionable ethics, he couldn’t help but want every part of her; her mind, her soul, her body, the sweet curve of her lips, and the sound of her laugh that had marked its home in his chest, the crinkles by her eyes and the curious way she enjoyed observing busy rooms. He wanted it all.

Bucky held himself against her, nose brushing over her cheek bone until his lips sat only a breath from hers. He could feel the uneven exhale of her breathing, shaking in the same anticipation he felt deep in his chest. Eyes glanced up to his, nervous, longing, and he ached for her in a way he didn’t know was possible. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned forward, his lips tingling at the thought of her, though he stilled his movements instantly when he glanced down and noticed a dark purple mark peeking out from under her shirt.

Bucky pulled back, eyes narrowing on the colored patch on the left side of her chest, hidden under her collar, only a sliver of what appeared to be a much larger pattern.

“Bucky?” she questioned cautiously, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mark. It wasn’t until she followed his line of sight that she realized the sleeve of her shirt had slipped a bit and exposed the secret lying underneath. She quickly adjusted her top covering up the bruise again, but the damage had been done. He had seen.

Bucky felt sick suddenly. Nausea creeping up in his stomach for the months that had gone by and he so foolishly missed the signs, too caught up in wanting to see her, in being thankful he could spend another few minutes just talking with her, that he didn’t stop to think about why she was coming in to the ED so often for an otherwise completely healthy woman. The way she referenced her husband, in the rare moments she did, was filled with a kind of hesitation, intimidation, she shouldn’t have carried for a man she loved. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d never even known her husband’s name until a few moments ago.

He couldn’t wrap his head around it; how it was possible that a woman who was so filled with wonder and joy and kindness when Bucky first met her that he was instantly captivated by her, could be the target of a vile man with no other outlet for her anger.

Bucky let his hand fall from her neck and he pulled it into his lap. It clenched into a fist that punctured his nails into his palm, but he was careful to hide it. He let out a heavy exhale, though that did nothing to ease the tightness in his chest.

“How long has your husband been hurting you?”

She sucked in a gasp, her entire body growing stiff. “I don’t-- W-Why would you ask that?”

“You don’t have to lie for him, doll,” Bucky implored softly, his hand sitting upon her thigh, thumb circling in soothing motions. Her gaze fell down to the movement of his hand, watching the tenderness in which he touched her, cared for her. It was unlike anything she was used to, and for the first time, Bucky knew why.

“Please, let me help you,” Bucky pressed. “You don’t have to go back to him. I won’t let him lay a hand on you again. I can—I can help you, doll.”

“Bucky,” she exhaled, his name a plea in her voice. “Leave this alone, please.”

“I can’t do that, Y/n. Not when I know he’s hurting you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snapped suddenly, words harsh in her voice though her eyes were wide and fearful. It was too rehearsed, almost conditioned, the way she made her voice stronger, edgier, than she felt. She couldn’t force her eyes to be as hard as her voice or the movement of her hand as she batted his away. She couldn’t lie to him through the shades of her iris he had grown to care for so much.

“Doll, I’m beggin’ you. You gotta let me--”

Y/n jumped off the bed suddenly, shoving Bucky aside to grab her bag from the counter. Her hands were shaking as she did so, wincing as she put too much pressure to her wrapped palms. Bucky stood cautiously, trying to make his stature a little smaller, less intimidating, as he approached her. He reached a hand out to her shoulder.

“Y/n, please--”

“Drop it, Bucky. There’s nothing you can do,” she urged, a panic replacing the faux constructed offense and Bucky saw a glimpse of fear in her features that nearly made his legs give out.

Before he could have a chance to beg her to stay again, she pushed open the door and disappeared out into the crowd. He stared at the door as it closed behind her, frozen in a state of shock and panic for this woman who was so intent to go back to the man who kept sending her here.

Bucky snapped himself back to reality and chased out after her, calling her name as she pushed past the crowd of interns, bumping into their shoulders in haste. She didn’t hold up. Light blue scrubs dove out of his way when they saw Bucky running in their direction.

“Y/n, wait!”

He was stuck behind a gurney that had been wheeled out into the hall and she was suddenly down by the double doors. She glanced back at him, an unreadable expression on her face as she turned and pushed her way outside.

His heart in his throat, Bucky desperately tried to swing around the sides of the bed before he just lunged over the top, much to the annoyance of the nurses, and practically sprinted down the hall. An administrator carrying a dozen files in his hand nearly had to jump out of Bucky’s way as he ran past, clinging tightly to the stack of papers.

Panic surged in his veins when he couldn’t find her down by the doors. He slammed his shoulder into the release and stumbled out into the busy street. Ambulances lined up at the drop off point, pedestrians walking by, family members of patients sitting on the bench, and the man Bucky had been attending to earlier smoking off in the corner, still wearing his hospital gown.

But not Y/n.

Bucky raked his hands through his hair, eyes darting down the street in both directions. She was nowhere. She was gone.

“Shit!”

“What the hell is your problem?” Steve grumbled behind him, having followed him outside upon noticing the commotion. “You’re scaring the patients.”

“I need Y/n’s records,” Bucky said, shoving past Steve and ignoring his question. He could sense Steve on his heels as he raced back to the nurses’ station and rapidly began typing in the computer. It took some digging, her records not being readily available in the system, but he found them.

“Fuck.” He slumped back into the chair, his hand darting to brush over his parted lips.

Prior to her first visit to Bucky several months ago, she had shown up in various EDs in Seattle, one every few months for at least a year, and then to Washington, D.C, for the last two years where she’d been treated for broken bones, a fractured rib, and internal bruising.

She’d also been in New York for longer than she let on, using Urgent Cares and EDs from outside the hospital’s network before she met him. For some reason, when she met Bucky, she stopped her pattern of using different emergency rooms. It was the first time she went to the same place consistently for more than two visits.

She broke her pattern for him.

“You want to tell me what's going on?” Steve raised an eyebrow, hands planted firmly on his hip, though his features began to soften when he noticed the wave of desolation in Bucky’s face.

“I fucked up, Steve. I really fucked up.”

***

“I can’t tell whether or not it’s worse that she hasn’t come back yet,” Sam said as he jumped up to sit on the countertop of the nurses’ station. It was nearing two in the morning and he broke open his second bag of chips. It was a slow night and those didn’t sit well with Bucky. It gave him too much time to think.

“I should have fucking seen the signs,” Bucky grumbled to himself, words that he’s repeated consistently since he saw Y/n last. It had been nearly three weeks since she ran out of the ED on him. Three weeks of constant anxiety, of looking over his shoulder to the door, of expecting the absolute worst. “How many months was she coming in here with those injuries? Why the hell didn’t I realize it sooner? Am I just that fucking naïve?”

“It’s not your fault, Buck,” Steve said calmly. “None of us saw it either.”

“I just wish she had a phone number or an address listed in the chart so I could at least make sure she’s okay,” Bucky conceded for the moment, though he knew the voice in that back of his head would return soon enough to remind him of his failure. “It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. I keep checking the papers thinking I might find her name in there one day, that her asshole husband will have taken it too far and I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“We’re not mandated reporters in New York state, Buck,” Steve reminded his friend. “We’ve been over this. You can only break HIPPA to report abuse of vulnerable populations; children, the elderly, mentally disabled. Y/n doesn’t fall in those categories so--”

“Am I just supposed to sit here with this knowledge that her husband is the reason she’s been in and out of this ED for the last six months, then?” Bucky grunted, raking his hands through his hair hard enough to tug out a few strands.

“If she’s not willing to press charges, there’s nothing the police can do,” Sam added, his voice a little softer than usual, more careful. “You have the evidence she’ll need if she ever does. You can even testify for her if it comes to that. But until then, you gotta sit still. Unfortunately, with shit like this, she’ll be back eventually.”

***

Another week passed by and still nothing. Bucky threw himself into every shift he could possibly pick up on the off chance Y/n might come back to the ED. He couldn’t risk not being here if she did. Dark circles hung under his eyes and he spent more nights sleeping in on call rooms than his own apartment. Steve was nearing kicking him out of the hospital for a week straight when Bucky finally agreed to take a day off. He slept nearly sixteen hours that night.

“Dr. Barnes?” Wanda called from across the hall. She handed him the chart of a twelve year old girl with what appeared to be a case of the flu judging by the redness in her nose, the cold sweats, and a general green color in her skin.

Bucky pushed out a smile that didn’t come as easily these days and knelt by the bed. ��Hey kiddo, how you feeling?”

“Not good,” the girl murmured, clenching at her mother’s hand.

“We’ll get that sorted out for you, okay?” Bucky pulled out his stethoscope and pressed the cool end to the girl’s back, asking she take in a deep breath. Then, he took her temperature just to confirm his suspicions, and when it read 101.3, he grimaced towards the girl's mom. “I’m going to go ahead and prescribe an antiviral and hopefully we can get this flu under control.” He turned back to the girl. “That sound good to you, princess?”

The girl nodded sheepishly and curled into her mother’s side.

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes,” the mom said, offering a smile in Bucky’s direction as she moved to pull her daughter into her arms. He nodded, and turned to hand the chart over to the nurse to assist with discharge when he found Sam waiting behind him. He wore a nervous kind of look on his face that made Bucky narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“What’s your deal?”

“I need you to come with me,” Sam replied, his voice short though there was a lingering concern in his words that Bucky wasn’t quite used to. Having spent so much time ridiculing and teasing one another despite the fact that they were actually friends, he knew enough to drop his guard when Sam came to him in this voice.

Bucky nodded, following Sam down the hall to the exam room with the closed door. Sam put his hand on the knob, but he paused before turning it.

“I need you to take a breath,” Sam instructed and Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Buck. You need to be in control when you walk in this room.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bucky groaned, his patience growing thin.

“It’s Y/n,” Sam said and it was enough for all of Bucky’s defenses to fall. “It’s... it’s not great, man. But this is what I was talking about. She’s back and she needs you right now. Okay? So, take a breath. Please.”

Bucky nodded quickly, sucking in a deep breath to his lungs though it came in shaky. He wondered when these feelings had developed strong enough to make him this terrified to see you again; to have to wonder what Sam meant by ‘not great’ and sit with that mental image for a moment too long before the door finally opened for him.

Sam stood outside, closing the door behind Bucky as he entered. It was dark inside the exam room, the shades drawn and only the lamp by the desk illuminating the space. Y/n stood just a few feet from him, her back to him as she held her arms wrapped around her waist.

“Y/n?” Bucky called cautiously, though she didn’t move to face him. He took a step closer.

“Wait,” she blurted out. He watched as her breaths came in heavy waves through her shoulders. “Just... please don’t be angry with me.”

Bucky’s heart fell, his chest aching painfully at the very thought. “I could never.”

With a heavy sigh, a brief nod to herself, Y/n began to turn around. She kept her head down, hair shielding over her face, and there was a slight tremor in her hands as she gripped at her forearms crossed over her waist. Bucky took a careful step forward, so that he was standing close enough to see the hairs standing up on her arms and the hear the rustled intakes of her breaths.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” he encouraged softly, trying to keep himself calm despite the anxiety rushing through him. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you, okay?”

She nodded hesitantly and slowly allowed herself to lift her head, her hair falling away from her face and Bucky bit down so hard on his cheek he drew blood.

A dark purple bruise marked over her cheek bone, extending in angry red vein-like lines down the sides of her face from the swelling. Her lip was busted open down the center, dried blood caked in the cracks. But worse than that, her eyes were red, filled with tears that sent a painful stab straight to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky reached out, so tenderly, so slowly, that it felt like a century before his hand grazed against the side of her face. She closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into him as he looked over the bruising, searching for further injury. His thumb traced over her jawline, his hand setting against her collarbone, as he hoped to sooth her while he examined the wounds.

He let out a heavy sigh and pulled his hand back. The subtle gasp she let slip didn’t pass his notice and he wondered if he should reach out again. He parted his lips to tell her that nothing appeared to be broken, that the swelling and bruising made it look worse than it was, but the words fell heavy on his tongue. Nothing he could say could make this any easier. It didn’t matter if it would heal on its own in a matter of a month or two, because the damage had come from someone she was supposed to trust, supposed to love. There was no repairing that. Even if it had been happening for years. It wasn’t any easier.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” she whimpered as the tears began to well over her lashing as cascaded against her checks. Bucky shook his head rapidly, not wanting for her to apologize for a single thing, but she continued before he had a chance to interject. “B-Brock... he knows. He knows I’ve b-been coming here. I’m n-never supposed to go to the same place more than twice but I... I was selfish and- and I wanted to see you again. I c-couldn't stop wanting to see you.”

A sob racked through her and the sound nearly broke Bucky straight in half. On pure instinct he reached out and gathered Y/n in his arms, surprised to find that she came against him willingly, her hands gripping tightly at his scrubs, face pressed into the crook of his neck as he ran his fingers down her back in long sweeping motions.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, doll,” Bucky cooed, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

She nodded against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hands spread against his back, bunching into the fabric of his dark blue scrub shirt and Bucky realized she was trying to ground herself. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head without thinking much of it and his breathe hitched when he realized what he had done. Though it seemed, at the gesture, her whole body seemed to relax, muscles losing their tension and her grip on his shirt becoming less tight.

After some time passed and Y/n’s cries had fallen silent, her breathing coming in at a normal rate, Bucky spoke up.

“Does he have consent for your records?”

Y/n didn’t pull away from him, mumbling against his chest, “he made me sign for it.”

“Okay,” Bucky exhaled, a slight relief at the plan formulating in his head. “We need to go in and revoke that as soon as possible. I’ll make sure everyone in this hospital knows not to give your information to him if he shows up. If we revoke consent, no one can even tell him if you’re here if he asks. Okay?”

Bucky started to pull away, just to help lead her to the door so he could get access to a computer, but she clenched her grip on him reflexively.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, doll,” Bucky soothed, his hand rubbing in soft circles on her back. “I won’t leave your side. Think you can come to the hallway with me? I’ll take you behind the nurses’ station so you’re out of the way of the patients. That alright?”

“Y-yeah,” she conceded, nodding to herself. She let her arms fall from his waist and brushed at the dried tear tracks reflecting on her cheeks. She winced when she grazed over the bruise mark too hard. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, doll,” Bucky said encouragingly in light of the heat boiling in his chest, wondering how long it took her husband to condition her to apologize so often. He could barely stand to think about how this woman who stole his breath away from the moment he met her, who was a filled with such light, could be extinguished by a man who was supposed to love her.

Bucky extended his hand to her, part of him wanting to make sure she had a way to ground herself outside of the room and a more selfish side of him just wanting to hold onto her a little longer. She stared at his hand for a moment, a look of relief on her face, as she took it carefully in her own.

“If it gets to be too much, you just let me know, alright?”

Y/n nodded, pushing out a smile that fell quickly from the pain in her broken lip. Bucky sighed, restraining the part of himself that urged to bring their intertwined hands to his lips and kiss at her knuckles. Instead, he pushed open the door, florescent lighting blinding for a moment as the chaos of the ED came back into view.

He felt a squeeze in his hand as he stepped out into the hallway and Y/n followed closely behind. Her other hand snaked its way across her and hooked onto Bucky’s forearm. She glanced up at him nervously, almost as if she was silently asking it this was okay, and he smiled encouragingly at her, nodding. She exhaled in relief as he helped weave her through the crowd.

Sam noticed them coming in the direction of the nurses’ station first. He raised an eyebrow and set down the chart he had been reading.

“Everything okay?” he asked as Bucky led Y/n around the back entrance and helped her settle into the chair Nurse Hill usually occupied.

“Revoking consent,” Bucky said as Y/n released his hand reluctantly so he could type his password into the computer. “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s been telling staff not to give out any info on Y/n since she got here. The ED’s on lockdown from that asshole as far as we’re concerned,” Sam replied, throwing a half-etched smile in Y/n’s direction. She struggled to lift the corners of her lips but he could tell she was appreciative nonetheless.

Bucky finished clicking a few boxes on the computer and he passed over a touch screen to Y/n. “Just need your signature, doll, and we’re done.”

She took the pen from his hand and quickly scribbled her name onto the pad. He noticed the hyphenated end of her name, his name, was illegible compared to the rest. She pressed her lips into a thin line when she was done and handed the pen back to Bucky. His fingers grazed over hers a moment longer than necessary.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” Sam asked, breaking through the tension that kept Bucky’s eyes drawn into Y/n’s.

Y/n shook her head. “No, I, uh... I don’t have friends around here and I haven’t spoken to my family in years.”

Sam sent a nervous look in Bucky’s direction, unsure of what to do next. This wasn’t typically his wheelhouse. First instinct was to call in social services, but he knew Bucky would want to be at the forefront of this.

“We’ll figure something out,” Bucky said reassuringly. “You can stay here with us until my shift’s up and we’ll go from there, alright? If that’s what you want...”

Y/n nodded quickly, a solace relaxing the apprehension in her muscles.

“Okay,” Bucky said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Things were coming together. This mess had a few strings that could be tied to knots. There was a plan, at least, and she wanted him to be next to her through it. It was all that mattered right now.

Despite the break in her lips, Y/n started to smile back at him, a flicker of light returning to her eye that Bucky adored so much. Though it fell away instantly when a voice rang out through the ED and a surge of panic coursed over her features.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WIFE?”

Bucky’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the ED where a man, over six feet in height and a growl tearing through him like a rapid dog, shoved aside two nurses attempting to calm him down. One glance back at Y/n, who had sunk so far down into her chair in an effort to hide herself behind the barrier, and Bucky knew instantly that this man was her husband.

Brock Rumlow.

“You have no goddamn right!” Rumlow bellowed, his voice echoing down the halls and drawing the attention of at least a dozen patients and staff. “I know she’s fucking here! Tell me where she is!”

A rage boiled deep in Bucky’s chest when he noticed the red marks on Rumlow’s right hand; marks he had obtained from the abuse he doled out to the woman he was supposed to love. Bucky's breaths were coming in too fast, his hands clenching into fists so tight it punctured his palm with his nails. Before he could take a moment to think, he shoved his way out to the hall and away from the nurses’ station, stalking in Rumlow’s direction.

“I’m going to need you to calm down,” Bucky seethed, clenching his teeth in an effort to control his voice, though it didn’t do much good. Rumlow paused, shaking off one of the nurses as he straightened his back, sizing Bucky up.

“Tell me where my wife is and we’ll be on our way,” Rumlow drawled, his eyes glancing down the series of cots.

“We cannot confirm or deny if your wife is here, sir.”

“Bullshit,” he spat, face boiling red.

“You’re scaring our patients,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. “Calm down, or leave.”

“Fuck you,” Rumlow grunted and he attempted to push past Bucky, though he was met with a hard shove.

“Don’t make me call for security to escort you out.”

“Security?” Rumlow scoffed. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but--” His eyes widened, locking in on something over Bucky’s shoulder. “Y/n! There you are baby!”

Bucky’s stomach dropped as Rumlow caught sight of Sam attempting to sneak Y/n back to the closed room at the end of the hall. Sam quickly stepped out in front of her, shielding her from Rumlow’s view as she did her best to hide behind him. A sickening smirk pulled at Rumlow’s mouth and he moved, once again, to push past Bucky but found he was met with a wall of hardened muscle.

“Don’t even fucking think about going near her,” Bucky growled, putting a hand on Rumlow’s chest and shoving him back a few paces. Bucky stole a quick glance back at Y/n, who had peaked around Sam’s arm, and tried to convey a lifetime of apologies for allowing this man even lay eyes on her again. She didn’t even spare Rumlow a second look, focused solely on Bucky.

Rumlow’s eyes narrowed, gaze darting from Bucky to Y/n, watching the silent conversation held in their stare. He cracked his neck to the side as his upper lip began to twitch.

“So, you’re the asshole that’s been putting garbage in my wife’s head,” Rumlow taunted, spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog. “Yeah, that’s right. I know about you. I know you’re trying to steal my wife from me. But newsflash, asshole! She’s mine!”

“She’s not your property, you piece of shit,” Bucky fumed, his cheeks growing hot with the rage coursing in his veins.

Rumlow let out an animalistic growl and he charged full force in Bucky’s direction, throwing a fist straight at the left side of his face. Bucky dodged it easily, bending down and shoving his shoulder into Rumlow’s gut and sending the both of them spiraling to the ground.

Chaos erupted as patients began to scream, nurses and interns darted out of their way as Bucky held Rumlow down by his collar and punched him square in the jaw. Blood spat from Rumlow’s mouth and he tried to get a grasp on Bucky before he took another swing, but he wasn’t coordinated enough for that. It seemed he was only able to attack when his victim didn’t fight back.

Bucky could barely see straight, red clouding in his vision, until he felt strong hands grabbing at his shoulders and yanking him off the ground. Two security guards hulled Rumlow off of the floor and restrained him by the arms as Bucky tried to shake off whoever was lugging him backwards.

“Buck! Stop!” Steve shouted into Bucky’s ear and Bucky stilled immediately.

Steve released his grasp and suddenly Y/n came crashing against him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist as Bucky stumbled back a step at the impact. He froze, caught off guard for a minute, arms stretched out to the side as he looked down to find her shaking, before he let himself hold her.

“Hey, I’m alright,” Bucky whispered so only she could hear. She squeezed him tighter in response, her face tucking into his neck and he could feel the stain of tears against his skin.

“I’ll fucking kill you! You hear me, bitch! I’ll kill you!” Rumlow roared, pulling against the security guards holding his arms back. Y/n flinched at his words, unable to even steal a glance in his direction, and Bucky tightened his grip on her, turning their bodies so she wasn’t in Rumlow’s direct line of sight. Bucky ran his hands along Y/n’s back, urging her to walk with him away from the scene.

As Rumlow continued to shout obscenities, Bucky glanced back over his shoulder to find security handcuffing him and Steve towering over as they restrained him to his knees. Patients and staff members parted alike as Bucky gently pulled Y/n along down the hall towards the exam room. He whispered endless apologies into her hair as he led her to the door. Once they were inside, Y/n let her hands fall away from his waist and they quickly jumped up to grasp the sides of his face.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked anxiously, eyes darting over his face. Bucky pressed out a sad smile, reaching up to her wrists and pulling her hands away from his cheeks.

“I’m okay, doll, I promise.”

She nodded, though he could tell she didn’t quite believe him. She took a few steps away from him, her hands falling from his outstretched grasp and he missed the contact instantly. One arm crossed over her waist and the other pressed up against her lips as she shook her head, like she was trying to contain words from spilling out. Bucky watched silently, unsure of what to say.

“I should never have dragged you into this,” she finally said, a heavy sigh in her words. She turned her back to him. “I don’t know how he even found out about you, that I’ve been coming to see you.”

“But we never... we didn’t... um,” Bucky stammered awkwardly, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

Y/n turned around slowly, her eyes downcast in shame as she nervously picked at the ends of her shirt. “There are other ways to be unfaithful, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart skipped as she met his eye, that longing he had been seeing hidden behind her iris’s for so long, now so abundantly clear.

“At first I thought maybe I was just confusing these feelings with the relief of someone, anyone, just being as kind and as gentle as you were to me when we first met,” she started. “I thought maybe I was just misplacing this need I had to be touched with something other than... other than cruel intent onto you because you reminded me what it was like when someone was gentle, when a touch could bring goosebumps instead of bruises.”

Bucky nodded slowly, though he let her speak as he took a seat on the edge of the cot. He could tell it was difficult for her to get this out by the way her hands wrung against one another and the subtle quake in her voice. He tried to ignore the way his heart had picked up in pace the longer she spoke.

“But then I realized it was you,” she said, a littler strong now, more assured, and Bucky’s heart nearly stopped. She shook her head, almost in disbelief as she walked a pace closer to him until she stood between his legs. “It was your hands I wanted to put me back together, your face I wanted to see when I closed my eyes at night, your voice in the back of my mind. It was you.”

“Y/n...” her name slipped past his lips like a prayer.

“All that and I still ran from you when you tried to help me,” she sighed, chewing on the dried skin on her lip, just next to the split. “I’ve just been so caught up in this lie for Brock all these years that the second you saw through it, I got scared, thought maybe you’d change your mind about me, think I’m weak or... or foolish for staying with him.”

“I don’t think those things,” Bucky interjected quickly and she smiled sweetly at him, the smile that he had fallen so easily for.

“I know you don’t,” she said, her hand reaching up to brush over his hair and push it behind his ear to get a better view of his face. His skin tingled at the touch. “You reminded me what it was like to feel again, Bucky. I was so numb before I met you.”

Her lips pressed to the center of his forehead and Bucky exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“I don’t know what happens now, but I want you in my life,” she confessed, nervous eyes meeting his and Bucky quickly reached up to the hand cupping the side of his face to hold it in his lap. He brought her knuckles to his lips, kissing them gently and pulling a smile from her he adored so much.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m right here,” he affirmed and her smile widened. “We’ll have to get you a new doc, though. I can’t be treating you after this.”

“I can handle that,” she replied quickly, chewing on the inside of her cheek to suppress the smile tugging at her split lip though it didn’t do much use.

“And your husband?” Bucky asked nervously, a wince pulling at the corners of his face in anticipation of losing her smile again, but it didn’t let up.

“Let him rot,” she replied confidently. “I’ve got enough evidence against him to put him away for years. Always thought I’d find the courage one day to use it.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile at that, the pride he felt warming his chest. He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to the crown of her hair as he enveloped her into his arms. She sighed against his neck, the warmth of her breath leaving goosebumps in their wake and Bucky sighed contently.

There were so many unanswered questions, so many next steps, but Bucky couldn’t find the energy to care about a single one of them in this moment with Y/n pulled tight to his chest, the sweet smell of her shampoo flooding his senses.

She nestled in tighter against him and he wondered if had fallen for the version of Y/n who had been numbed for so many years, how much more he could adore her when she was allowed to express every part of herself unimpeded.

It didn’t matter there were so many unknowns. There was too much to look forward to.

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233

additional drabble 🌸

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#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #my writing #bucky fic #feel again #doctor au #bucky x female reader

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thots4daze · 4 years

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Until | Yorarashi Inasa Apocalypse AU

a bnharem server collab please check out all other other wonderful authors ---> here. <---

many many thanks to jae & the thorsty squad: @reinawritesbnha @aizawascumslut @michiieewrites @hipster-merchant-of-death for all your support & help~

Warnings: 18+

Word count: 8k+

It had been months since the beginning of the breakout, the ''Collapse of Society” as it was soon to be known as. Before? You were just your average, everyday university student. Attending classes, tuning out the monotoned droning on of professors just about as ancient as the subjects they taught, dodging the one night stands you had the misfortune of dragging into your arms in the attempt to warm your sheets. It wasn’t all that bad, before the Collapse that is. You had friends, you were well liked, even had a long time crush that you would meet up with on occasion to discuss what was going on in each other’s lives at the moment. It was nice. It was calm. It was normal.

But then the Collapse happened. It seemed sudden, as though everything you knew that was normal was far from it. According to all the broadcasts and media coverage, it was something that had been steadily infecting those around the world. It started off small, a cold or flu like symptoms - something that was fairly common that people took no notice of usually. And then there were the fever spikes. In the end, the body would overheat from the extreme fevers before shutting down. In the span of a few hours after death, the infected deceased were then reanimated as if by some unknown, higher power. A darker malevolent being. Truly a plague on the world as a whole.

The infected didn’t seem to be affected by conventional means of dispositions, instead a clear shot to the brain, through the skull, was enough to incapacitate the creatures. What made the situation worse was the fact that the governments and other authority powers around the globe insured that the public was in good hands. You were all safe from the horrible outbreak, that everything was under control.

Until it wasn’t.

»»————-　　————-««

That was almost two months ago; when the Collapse really took to the public and the world around you crumbled into a chaotic state of panic. Bigger than what was originally predicted. In that time, you had managed to escape the death trap that was your university’s dorms. You had managed to scrounge together a go-pack, one that you had prepared just in case you needed to get the hell out of there, and headed towards a friend’s apartment on the outskirts of the campus. It was better in numbers, safety and all that, right?

However, when you eventually did make it to the familiar complex, it seemed to have been all for naught. The place was pillaged and seemed to be vacant, aside from the curtains that would sway in their places adjacent to smashed windows, giving the illusion of warm bodies behind them. You knew better and yet your feet were moving on their own accord, leading you along the all too familiar path that carried you to the original destination.

The scent of putrid flesh was overpowering your sense of smell and nearly knocked you over more than once as you continued to the door at the end of the open-aired hallway. The sound of shuffling reached your ears as you stood on the other side of the door, hoping beyond all hope that they were alive still and not some decaying corpse.

All hopes were shattering in a matter of seconds, for as soon as you twisted the handle of the door and pushed the flimsy wood inward. The body of your friend stood stagnant in the center of what used to be their living area, back to you, swaying on the spot. The sound of you closing the door behind you knocked them out of their daze, acting on pure instinct they lunged forward, nails like claws. You had only a moment to dodge out of the incoming attack, side stepping - ungracefully - and scrambling to get to a weapon; anything to protect yourself. In the end, you had managed to grab a table lamp, one of those very modern designed ones, all angles and edges, and were able to use that as your weapon - bringing it down onto your friend’s skull. Denting in the bone, and damaging their brain.

In hindsight, you should have known better than to just straight up attack an infected as you did; but honestly, what choice did you have? It wasn’t like you could sneak behind ‘em and attack that way. When they died, er, rather before you finished them off, the piercing screech that assaulted your ears was enough for you to get the job done quickly. You would have never guessed that that sound would act as some sort of beacon, attracting the other infected in the area to your location.

You were there for a few hours making sure you gathered enough supplies to fill your pack, coming across an enormous duffel bag that once belonged to your friend and stuffing it full of non-perishables as well. Your reprieve was soon cut short when you heard them. The sounds of heavy, sloppy footfalls traipsing up the stairs, down the corridors, searching for their fallen comrade. The dead were surrounding you, trapping you inside, where the only way out would have been to jump from the balcony to the three stories below. The sound of your own blood rushing around inside that head of yours did well to drown out the sounds of pounding from outside the small safety of the apartment you took residence in.

In an instant you were dropping your perishables and scrambling to barricade the door with any and all furniture you could find. The couch, the kitchen table and chairs, hell even the large bookcase you had helped move into this place. Nothing was off limits. It didn’t take long for the dead to reach your door, clawing at each other, at the wood separating you from your inevitable doom. You grabbed the bags once more and scuttled off to the back door leading out to the balcony. There was a small storage building directly beneath you, it would break your fall if you could just hop over the railing and jump. But then the noise would most likely attract them to your new location, and if you were to injure yourself in the fall… well…

You shook your head clear of the negative thoughts and before deciding on anything you swept the apartment once more to make sure you had snatched up anything and everything, just in case.

»»————-　　————-««

The high pitched screech could be heard two blocks away from where Inasa was scouting. It wasn’t a dead scream, like the ones he was unfortunately used to hearing. No, it was something akin to a cry for help. Which was strange, this stretch of area was cleared of living. It was too concentrated of an area and had been evacuated a while back. The only things that were inhabiting the neighborhood were the dead.

So, to hear the dead essentially calling for backup meant that there was someone alive nearby. And that meant he was needed. Shishikura called out to him in harsh, hushed tones, so as to not draw anymore unwanted attention in their own direction, but he was in vain as the brash, headstrong male charged forward in search of the person, or persons, in danger.

It didn’t take him long to find the apartment building where he was most needed, seeing as how the herd of the dead were flocking to it as if it held the key to their problems. Hard, onyx eyes searched the parameter of the building, or what points he could easily get to without being caught himself, before locking onto an exposed balcony, three floors up. There was movement in the open backdoor, a young woman scanning the surrounding areas - most likely searching for a way down. Which meant that the dead must be outside her door if jumping down was her only option.

She moved away from the window before he could get a chance to call up to her, that from where he was she would be good to jump. In the short amount of time it would have taken for him to think up a plan, he instead bolted forward, easily hoisting his burly, muscled body up to the roof of the storage building. Eyes scanning the balcony railings above him and jumping towards them, large hands gripping the wrought iron without an issue. Using the momentum of the jump Inasa was able to shimmy his frame up the iron rods before swinging his legs to hook around the tops of the railing, and with the finesse that only a large man as himself could posses, he was clamoring to his feet on the balcony deck, only a few feet from where you had once stood.

Cautiously he began to move into the room, holding the sheer curtain away from his line of sight, hoping to catch movement, of any kind. A serrated blade at his hip, his free hand at the ready to pull it from it’s sheath at any given moment.

You heard grunting coming from the balcony and in an attempt to seem braver than you truly were in the moment, you lunged at the intruder, assuming it was another dead creature that somehow appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

However, your attempt fell short, and your wrist holding onto a kitchen cleaver was stopped midair. The vice grip that held your wrist in place was warm and not all rotting. Sturdy muscle was pressed against the front of your body and you could only look up in panic and relief. Someone living. Someone to help. It was then that your face fell as thoughts of them being here for other intentions flooded your head. Struggling in the man’s grip, you began to pull and thrash around, anything to remove yourself from his immediate radius.

“Stop, stop. I’m not here to hurt you. Calm down,” Inasa was trying his hardest to sound sincere and to keep his voice at a lower level than what he was currently used to. Your ears perked up at the familiar sounding voice. It would have been foolish to not be able to discern your long time friend’s tone - even if it was almost whispering.

“I-Inasa?” The puff of air that passed your lips as you called his name made everything seem dreamlike. “Y/N?!” There he was. The loud and passionate meathead you knew and loved. How long had it been since you found yourself in his presence? Too long it seemed. But here he was, in all his handsome glory.

“Y/N we’ve gotta go. They’re gonna be breaking down-,” he looked towards the front door of the apartment to find that you had already barricaded the entrance, “the door…” his words seemed to die in the forward cavern of his mouth as he glanced between you and the door and back again. Hands on your hips you flashed him a cheeky and very pleased grin, “I’m not completely useless, ‘Nas.” A small poke of your tongue breathing your lips was the last you gave him of that conversation. His only response, along with a heavy blush dusting his face and spreading to his ears was a short and sweet, “That’s my girl.” Then it was your turn to blush.

»»————-　　————-««

In the end, he convinced you that the two of you needed to jump down onto the small building under the window. After a lot of pushing and prodding you finally took the plunge - literally. Thankfully, Shishikura and Camie weren’t too much further up the road and were at the ready, weapons drawn, in position to provide cover if it was needed. Unluckily, a few dead were needed to be disposed of as you and Inasa made it to them, but otherwise Mission Save Y/N was a great success.

That was nearly five months ago, though it seemed so much longer than that. What with time ceasing to exist on smaller scales - the only thing you knew was that you were safe, for now, with a small and efficient group of fellow survivors. Your best friend and crush one of them. You had wondered, at the start of all this turmoil, why it was that you didn’t see him as often as you clearly would have liked. Aside from different university campuses of course.

“You aren’t thinking, Y/N!”

Ah, that’s why...

The ever consistent arguments that seemed to blossom between the both of you. Small things that would typically pile atop one another until it just became too much and one thing just sets it all off. You were no better at keeping it all under wraps, but still you tried. Could anyone blame you for wanting to keep the peace so that you could continue to have your best friend and eye candy around at all times? No. No they could not.

The end of the world was no exception.

“I can’t believe you would do something so monumentally idiotic!” All you could do was release a low, agitated sigh as you continued to sharpen your personal knife on a whetstone, keeping the edge as sharp as you could. However, with the mountain of a man pacing angrily behind you, throwing out condescending accusations you might find a better place to store your blades weapon.

Taking enough of his name calling, you threw the blade onto the table and stood up in such a quick and fluid motion Inasa had no time to react before you were poking into his chest yelling right back at him. "We needed the supplies, 'Nas, you know we did! What was I supposed to do, just let them lay there on the ground?"

He faltered and stumbled back a bit when you proceeded to aggressively jab your finger into his chest, still yelling, “I wasn’t going to waste a perfectly good opportunity for those kinds of supplies, especially the first aid! Who knows when it’ll be the next time until we have a chance to stock up on that again?!” You glared up at him, fierce eyes daring him to try and argue with you any further.

He paused, backing down from his earlier comments. Shocked at the raw emotion you were pouring forth. You had him there. What was supposed to have been a routine supply run quickly turned deadly when a herd of the dead were alerted to the sound of the group scavenging. Fortunately, everyone was able to make it out and back to camp in time before being completely overwhelmed; nearly losing all of the newly gathered supplies - and your life - at the same time.

Thoughts raced through his mind about what could have been, what almost was. What if you weren’t lucky enough to have had backup? Or if one of the others were to get bit? Even worse, what if you were to get bit? Thankfully, he had managed to trap the herd in that now empty store.

His mind was racing. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, as it was yours, he wagered - if he could take a moment to actually think straight. Large hands already having moved to your hips, you furrowed your brows at his elongated silence, already waiting with a new argument in hand. When had you gotten so close to him? You tried not to let his scent cloud your mind, trying to hold fast to your argument.

“I had it Inasa”, you glowered, coming back to your senses, growing more irritated by the minute at his tight lip service, “I’ve been on my own for years already before the world went to shit, I think I know a thing or two about taking care of myself."

That was what snapped him out of his stupor, the realization, the weight of your words and how when paired next to your recent actions just ignited something within him. The grip on your hips tightened at your words, his own words flying from his mouth before he had time to truly think of their delivery, “You may have thought that you had it under control, but you didn't, Y/N! Did you ever think of what could have happened to you just now?! How it would have affected everyone?”

How it would have affected me? He wanted to yell at you. To fully encompass you; grip you by your shoulders, your face - anywhere - and make you see. Make you see that he was trying to keep you safe, for you, for the group, for him. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he had let anything happen to you. To him you were the world as he remembered it. Sunshine and goodness. Warmth, safety. Intimacy at its peak.

But he didn't. Inasa didn't mention to you how much you meant to him on a level that crushed anything even remotely platonic. And that line had been crossed long ago. Instead, he continued on his war path, “Do you even realize how much danger you put yourself and the rest of the group in just now?” He ranted and roared, his breath shortening and heart beginning to pound harder under his ribs, mind continuously returning to the possibility of What Almost Was...

You scoffed at his tone, and as much as it pained you to do so, you pushed yourself out from his ever tightening grip on your body. You just wanted to curl into his warmth. The fresh, yet muddled scent of petrichor that made you feel as if you were in the greenery at the base of a mountain after a warm, spring rain. Getting lost in the moment, getting lost in his presence. You would have stayed in his warm embrace for as long as you could. But now was not the time to get distracted. And without another glance back, you headed after Shishikura for another run.

»»————-　　————-««

Another supply run. Another issue. If it isn’t one fucking thing it’s another. Down side to this one you had been in trouble and yes, it was your fault. Were you about to admit that? Fuck no.

Since arriving back to the camp, even more so when you returned to your personal quarters, you had been avoiding a certain overenthusiastic, mountain of a man. You were a big girl and knew how to take a tongue lashing, but already having had to deal with him and his scolding earlier was too much. Speaking of the Devil, he barged into your quarters as you began to peel the top layer of fabric off your battered and bruised body. Surely you were going to be sore in the next few hours with all the jumping and running you’ve had to endure in the last 24 hours alone. “Um? Excuse you?” You turned to catch sight of him, glaring at him to turn around at least. Instead he continued on as if he wasn’t just caught staring at the small of your back.

Clearing his throat, he hoped you wouldn’t have noticed - you did - “What the fuck were you thinking? Did you not pay any attention to our discussion earlier?” His voice was definitely lacking the fire that was clearly there before he walked in on you stripping. But no matter, because upon hearing those words spill from his lips you doubled over in a bitter laugh. “Discussion? Is that what you would call that?”

Ignoring the bite to your tone he approached you, when had you stood to face him? He was a mere four feet in front of you, eyes locked on their target. Hardened chips of onyx bore into your soul and you unconsciously brought your arms to fold across your chest, not being used to being under such an intense gaze. Definitely not from him. A warm blush dusting the tops of your shoulders, matching the one across the bridge of your nose and the round of your cheeks. His voice took on an even deeper timbre than normal, “I could have lost you...” It was so softly spoken, yet husky, that you had almost missed it. And you would have if you weren’t so acutely aware of his lips and how chafed they looked. Even with his tongue darting out to wet them before he spoke.

“But you didn’t…” The voice you spoke with was one you weren’t familiar with. Inasa just shook his head, stepping a bit closer, his heat coming off of him in waves. A steady thrum beating beneath his chest, he was sure you could hear it. “That isn’t the point, Y/N,” he still held that tone of superiority, of authority, just laced with a touch of tenderness.

His normally tense frame was wound up tighter now more than ever, even though he should be relieved that you were indeed safe. Inasa was still hung up on the what if? What if something were to happen, you would have never known his true feelings for you. What would you say to them, now? Given the shitty circumstances of the world? Would you return them, accept them with open arms and allow him to cherish and protect you for a different reason? Or would you deny him, and see him only as the best friend he’s been for the last four years?

You understood the frustration of his internal plight, having been in the same boat as him for the past four years will do that to you. There was never any sign that the feelings were mutual, so why act out on them and ruin something beautiful? Though you couldn’t help but develop some hope that with this tension surrounding the two of you, and the massively obvious blush coating his body and yours, that there just might be some common ground between you after all.

It was you who took the final steps causing you to close that gap and the instant you were within reach, Inasa’s hands shot out, wrapping around your semi-bare form. Pulling you closer into his body and his warmth. His head resting in the junction of your shoulder and neck. Tremors racking his body, “I thought you were dead…” his voice was so soft and muffled, the experience was enough to weaken you.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay. It’s gonna take more than a few dead to take me down.” Trying to lighten the mood with an ill-timed joke was not appreciated on his part, even if you did force a small smile at the words. All Inasa did was frown and glare into your shoulder, not bothering to move from his previous position. Inasa wrenched himself away from you and began to pace on the opposite side of the room. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” He ran his hands through his hair, its length showing how long it had grown since the beginning of all of this. You had to remind yourself to keep the undersides shaved. Bring something from the old world Inasa back.

“What?” You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, voice cracking ever so slightly, “What can’t you do ‘Nas?” He whipped around to face you, pacing stopped, and bellowed, “I thought you were dead. I saw the creatures swarm you… you, you left your knife?! The blood.” Inasa stalked closer, towering over your small frame, dark eyes burning with an overwhelming passion you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Moving slow, bringing your hands up to cup the sides of his face, he trembled beneath your touch. Breath coming out ragged and strained. His eyes misting over as he stared at you. “You know I always come back. You’re stuck with me, until the end.”

“Until you don’t.”

“You’re always there right with me. I have you to save me,” you had started, trying to get him to calm down, but it only seemed to have woken the storm brewing within him again.

“You aren’t getting yourself killed while I’m left standing in camp, taking fucking inventory. I watched as the dead swarmed that convenience store and thought that the woman I love was gone and I… I didn’t know what to do.” Inasa just sort of buckled, a solid wall collapsing upon himself. You lunged forward to try and keep physical contact with him, but with his weight and the sheer surprise factor of the fall, he ended up pulling you down to your knees with him. He hunched over, sniffing and sobbing softly into your shoulders once more.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered once more. You wrapped your arms around his large frame, your fingers digging into his back, holding on as tightly as you could.

“I’m not. I’m okay.” You could feel him begin to relax slightly into your touch, even more so after you began to rock gently, “I promise I’m okay.”

Inasa let loose a shuddering breath before murmuring against the skin of your shoulder, “It hurts to love you.” You still against him, shock numbing your senses and sending your mind racing over his words. He pulled himself slightly from your grasp, leaning back to properly look at you while he moved his hands from your back to slide them down to your hips.

“I didn’t think it would hurt so much…”

Bringing your own hands to entangle in the hairs at the base of his neck, your voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper, “We’re both here now.”

“Yeah,” a single breath passed, neither one of you moving for fear of shattering the moment. You worried your lip between your teeth, his words replaying over in your head as you stared at the man before you. Something in him snapped at the hardened innocence you bore. In an instant he was on you, surging forward, crashing his lips onto yours. Words were lost on your tongue as he stole the breath from your lungs, his kiss hard, rough, and needy. You flinched, your teeth having clacked together when he began to deepen the kiss. Inasa broke away from the kiss, a murmured apology falling from him though he was too focused on you and your lips to pay much attention. He ran his hands up the sides of your body, strong fingers tracing your curves and dipping into your softer spots as a hand slid up to cup the back of your neck; holding you close. His lips never seemed to cease their ministrations, rather deepening the kiss until all you knew or could sense was him and him only.

However you could feel a slight burning in your lungs, the few snatches of air between kisses no longer enough, and you pulled your head back slightly after that last kiss. You and Inasa were breathing hard, sucking in as much fresh air as you possibly could, a thin, silver string still connecting the two of you by your lips. Heart pounding and ready to burst from his chest, Inasa pressed forward. He pulled you against him before walking you backwards to your bed, gently but firmly guiding you until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You let out a surprised squeak, glancing up into his eyes, “‘Nas-” you whine but he cuts you off with another strong, albeit quick, kiss.

“W-was that okay?” he breathed, the confidence and strength that he had before from his desperation starting to wane, especially from your prior lack of response.

Unable to speak, the only reply you can give is the desperate kiss that you pull him into, your lips crashing on his. You clung to him like he’s the only lifeline you have ever needed in your life, tears springing to your eyes as you inhale his sharp, metallic smell that reminded you of the air after a major storm. You let it wash over you like waves along the shore, letting it fill your senses and entire being till you knew nothing but Inasa in that moment. He jumps, having been caught off guard by your enthusiastic answer, but he recovers quickly with a pleased hum. The desperate mood from earlier had shifted, turning into something much softer but you could still feel the tug in the lower part of your belly for the perfect storm that was brewing. Arms curling around his shoulders, body flush against his own and when you pull back for a small breather he’s caught off guard at the sight of your pupils blown with desperation and lust.

He’s planting one knee between your parted thighs and leaning over your frame, an arm wrapped around your waist, the other providing him with stability. Inasa is grinning down at you, heart beating erratically beneath his ribs with his love for you. He wouldn't be surprised if you could feel it.

Fire burns just beneath his skin from every touch of your skin on his and he never thought burning alive would be so worth it. He allows his large hands to slip to the small of your back, drifting over the sides of your hip until he’s cupping the globe of your ass. You can’t help but to squeeze your eyes closed and suck in a breath, arching into his body, allowing him easier access to mold the firm flesh beneath his fingers.

“Inasa…” the whisper that slips past your parted lips, coated in want and raw desire, fills the small airways between the two of you. It should be illegal, the way your lips form an ‘o’ as he rut his clothed erection against you. He’s leaned forward, one arm keeping his massive weight from crushing you, running calloused fingers over your bare flesh ever so gently, starting at the base of your neck. His fingers tracing little light patterns along your exposed collar bone before shifting the trail down your sternum, the sight of newer scars littering your flesh made his heart skip a beat or two. Inasa bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from frowning at what could have caused them.

Catching your eyes though, he notices that you’re staring at him, flustered cheeks and an awaiting gleam in your blown out eyes. If the deep inhale was anything to go off of, he could only assume he was doing something right. He keeps his eyes locked onto your own as he continues down the expanse of your body until he’s reaching your bra. He’s pushing the cup of your bra up and circling your areola with his warm tongue before you can say anything. A gasp escapes you as you arch into his touch. He flicks his tongue out and sucking on the rosy bud, taking it between his teeth ever so gently. Your breathing hitches again and you find him shifting his body lower, making himself more comfortable between your thighs.

The way you’re arching, trying to press more of your breasts into his mouth, trying to get him to use more teeth and tongue, has got him rutting into the mattress below him seeking some kind of friction. Throwing your head back, mouth dropping open in a soft moan, one hand coming down to grip his long, shaggy hair. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feeling of your fingers tightening in his locks every time he made you shiver. It was starting to become one of his top favorite feelings.

He’s sucking on your nipples, alternating between the left and the right, making sure to keep you on your toes. Rolling your hips up into him, searching for more. Needing more. You’ve already made a mess of the thin material between your legs, and with the way he’s straining against you, you can only assume he’s made a mess himself. He’s dragging his dull nails across your skin and leaving fire in their wake. Both of your hands tangled in his tresses, tightening intermittently as he moves down your body. Littering you with wet and warm kisses, down to the apex of your thighs, pulling the band of your panties down before he’s dragging his tongue over his lips, preparing for the taste. Unsurprisingly, your hips jerk at the contact and he’s drooling for your taste. He wanted to hold your gaze, to lock eyes and see you come undone because of him, but you long since closed your eyes at the pleasure that’s about to course through you.

Eagerness pulses through his veins and he’s pushing your legs apart. You don’t even try to halt his motions and instead open wide. Your scent hits him in the face and it takes everything in him to not just bury his nose into your wet heat. One last lick of his lips and he’s muttering out, "Itadakimasu,” and dipping down to drag his tongue through your folds. Inasa hikes a leg up and over his shoulder, settling himself further between your legs, never once breaking contact. He’s devouring you like a man starved. And given the state of the world around you, that isn’t far from the truth.

Your hips are rolling in time with the thrusting of his tongue, mewling and jerking every time he curls the pink muscle. Your walls tighten around him. Two fingers dive deep into your tight hole next to his animated tongue, quick, hard thrusts are accompanied by the flicking of the muscle. Soon enough he’s sucking on your clit, your head thrown back, mouth agape as your moans become louder, your grip doesn’t slack as you ride his face.

“‘Na… ‘Nasa,” you groan, voice laced thick with want, “I’m gonna…” Something within him ignites, his determination is increased tenfold, his desire to have you come undone on his tongue fueling his endeavors. It’s been too long since that passion was so clearly expressed. Your own movements are erratic, hips jerking under his tight grip, pulling his hair harshly. You try to squirm away and out of his grasp but he isn’t letting go. He won’t ever let you get away. Your legs are snapping closed around either side of his head, effectively trapping him there, however he’s got such a strong grip that he’s easily keeping them open with both hands. His tongue never ceases it’s harassment of your pulsing cunt.

He moans into your pussy, eyes rolling back at the taste as you begin to come down from your high, pulling him up to your face by the scruff at his neck. He’s vaguely aware that you’re kissing him, completely unfazed at being covered in your slick. In fact you’d go so far as to say it tasted good on him. Your tongue swiping across his face, catching on the stubble near his lips, causing him to shudder at the sensation.

Hands carding through his hair are shaking, but resolute as you push your body up into him, trailing your nails down his back, up around his biceps and broad shoulders. His own hands mapping out your body beneath him, committing you to memory. With you grinding up into him and groaning onto his ear, holding back was thrown to the wayside. And when your hand came down the front of his pants to cup his cock straining against the fabric he nipped at your lips moaning at the sensation.

He's speaking, something that you nearly miss, your head being so clouded with warm fog - a result of the large man above you. Being under him like you were,responding to each one of his kisses and touches was dragging him further and further from control. He wanted to be inside you. No, he needed to be. And before he knew what was happening he voiced his desires into the open spaces between you.

Your answer came in the form of a hum, pulling your hand away from his strained cock and instead to help him out of the pesky pants. Eventually the two of you remove the offending clothing and he's tossing them somewhere into the corner of the room.

At the sudden contact of your naked slick slipping against his throbbing cock sent electricity shooting throughout his body. Nerve endings feeling as if they were on fire. You’re so wet and needy. For him. Thoughts seem to escape him as his need to be inside your and rearrange your guts has him by a thread, and before either of you know what’s happening; he’s gripping his cock, thick fingers finding purchase around his girth, and he’s sliding along your folds.

Your body is shaking as he’s slow to push through those beautifully swollen lips. A choked sob escapes you, nails digging further into his shoulders, trying so hard to relax, but he’s so big and you haven’t prepped in months! The stretch is welcomed but burns. You’re pulling his gaze back up to you, from where he was so entranced at watching his dick enter you, so you can kiss him hard and sloppy. It was the only thing you could do to keep your mind off of the pain. A hiss slipping past your lips and into his mouth. He would have pulled away from you right then and there to check on you. Make sure he wasn’t hurting you. That’s the last thing he would want to do. But he couldn’t move far enough away to get even a good look at you, you had your claws in him and you weren’t letting go.

Finally, once he’s fully sheathed, he stops. Muscles flexing and tensing as he tries and wills away his encroaching orgasm, wanting to savor this moment. However, your grip is still death like your arms have slacked off, allowing him to rise up slightly. Enough to observe your face, basking in the harsh pants and pleasurable mewls you release.

“I love you, Y/N” and with that he starts moving, rolling his hips like the whipping winds of a gale force. Hard and harsh in waves, plunging himself as deep as he can. Tears streaming down your face, hiccups bubbling from your open mouth, panting, “I love you too, ‘Nas.”

It was the only motivation he needed to continue with the pace of his thrusts. Long, deep and hard, pushing up against your cervix every time. The muscles in your arms strain once more as your fingers scratch at his biceps and pectorals. Trying to find something to ground yourself else you’d fly off into a pleasurable abyss. You're wrapping your legs around his waist, rolling your hips in time with each of his powerful thrusts, clenching down on him as he drives deep into your heat.

The only noises surrounding the two of you were your own husky breaths and moans, the constant of the worn mattress supporting the weight of your rigorous activity and the sounds of sweat slicked skin slapping against one another. The tell tale scent of salt and something else much more bitter filled your senses.

You’re positively buzzing, pussy clamping down on him every time he pulls back out, trying to keep him and his cock between your legs for as long as you can. You’ve waited this long and now that you finally have him, you don’t intend to let him go.

His eyes, you can tell, are threatening to close due to the sheer force of pleasure washing over him. Just like your own eyes, lidded and struggling to stay open. You want to be able to see his face as he ruins you. Inasa repositions one of your legs from his hips over his shoulder and the change has you screaming out his name. Arching your body into him, he’s doubling his efforts, trying to get you to make that noise again. The new position has you wider and more accepting of his thick cock and he’s doing everything in his power to get you to cum like this all over his throbbing member.

Your head tilted back, eyes finally shut, mouth agape, tears rolling down your cheeks you’re vaguely aware of the wanton screams falling from your lips as his thrusts become more and more erratic. He’s losing himself to the mesmerizing sight that you are. Your hands are shooting back into his hard, pulling hard, commanding him, “Don’t stop, oh god, ‘Nas… yes!”

Inasa doesn’t look away from you as he continues plowing into you. You’re so blissed out, hair sticking to your face, flushed skin looking so gorgeous in the shitty lighting of their headquarters. A thought pricks at the back of his mind, but he’s too focused on you and your cunt trying to milk him for all he’s worth that he can’t be bothered to figure out what it means. Instead he decides to position your other leg up to your chest, effectively changing the angle of his thrust and you’re howling out once more. He can tell you're close, you’re trembling around his cock and he’s got this primal need to watch as you come undone because of him.

He brings his lips to the spot below your ear, “I love you, Y/N, cum for me baby, please, please...” his whimpers and husky tenor was all it took to have you come crashing down, tension taking over your body as you’re sent careening over the edge. Fingers splayed out across his back, scratching trails down his back to the globes of his ass.

The feeling of your nails dragging across his skin burned, but it only heightened his senses especially when paired with the way your walls were constricting around his pulsing cock. Throw in all the times he’s thought about this exact scenario before and after the collapse of the world around you, and the realization that he’s not wearing a condom and he’s coming hard. Whole body locking up as he arches his own back, pistoning into your warmth one final time. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides, filling you to the brim, seeping out of your plugged hole. You’re cunt is pulling the last of his seed from his throbbing cock and it makes his body light up, as he’s fucking you through whatever remains of your own orgasm.

It isn’t long before you realize that your lips are connected once more, tongues stroking over each other in slow, lazy motions. You're almost positive that there’s drool dibbling down your chin. But you couldn’t be bothered. Not in the slightest. Both of your breathing has leveled out, even though Inasa’s large cock was still buried deep within the walls of your sore cunt. The last hour or so replaying behind your eyes, your taste still on him.

None of it seems real. He’s having a hard time registering what exactly happened. Hell, you are too. But nothing seems more right then the moment right then. With a slight groan he’s pulling himself from you and rolling to his side. The sheets beneath you both soaked with sweat and drool and other sex induced fluids sticks to your skin, but it doesn’t bother you. Inasa is pulling you over him, an arm to rest across his chest as it heaves slowly. One of his arms comes to rest under his head as a makeshift pillow - even though he seems to be hogging all of them anyways - his other moves to trap you to his warmed torso, absently tracing little patterns along your lower back.

The post sex high coming to a close as you bask in the ambiance. The silence of it all. To think, the world around them was destroyed and only falling further and further away from civilization as you had previously known it. It was small moments like these, in the afterglow of a good fucking, that you started to think that even with everything the way it was that there might be some good to come of it all. There had to be. Right?

»»————-　　————-««

After that eventful, and well needed, burst in the sexual tension bubble that surrounded you and Inasa, it made known that it wasn’t just going to be a one time thing. In fact, the rest of that night was spent with many rounds of you two making up for lost time. Exploring each other, finding out what each other enjoyed and didn’t. Needless to say, the entire camp knew before you needed to tell them. It was a bit embarrassing at first, but nothing you two couldn’t handle.

There were still moments where you would argue about supply runs - either one of you throwing yourselves into harm's way - the other berating for being careless. Today was no exception. Camie, instead, took your position in the latest run covered in rotting flesh and guts - something you did not envy her for. Though, it was when she had walked past you and towards storage to take inventory of their haul that you doubled over and retched. The rationed stale bread and scrambled egg from this morning’s breakfast came up in one big upheaval, scattering on the concrete floor, barely missing the toes of your combat boots. It caught everyone’s attention, including your mountain of a boyfriend, who rushed to your side in such a flurry you would have thought he bent the air around him to get there.

“Y/N?! Are you alright? What’s wrong?!” He was panicking as he lifted you to your feet - when had you fallen down? - and was already leading you to the makeshift infirmary where Mora was stationed, hoping that his senpai would be able to do something. At the very least be able to determine the cause of the sudden illness. If Inasa were to think about it long and hard he would have realized that it wasn’t in fact sudden and that you had been experiencing waves of nausea on and off for the last week or so.

Upon entering the infirmary and depositing you on a table he began to pace. Nerves were skyrocketing and his normally enthusiastic personality was limited to one riddled with anxiety. Mora had started conducting an exam on you while he was off overthinking, one of the tests required your urine and a full body check to make sure there weren’t any infectious bites hiding away on your skin. Inasa wasn’t pleased to have another man check over your body, but there was nothing he could do when he was forcefully removed from the situation. Resulting in his pacing to continue out in the hall.

“‘Nas…” you cooed from your position in the doorway, exams concluded, just waiting on anything further from your senpai and trying to gain his attention. It seemed to have worked because he stopped burning a trail into the flooring with his gait and turned to you in an instant. He looked at you expectantly, “I’m alright. You’re stuck with me forever, remember?” If it hadn’t been for how pale you were he would have laughed at the growing joke between you.

“Until you aren’t…” he muttered, and it was so soft you thought you missed it. But before you had the chance to comment on it, Mora emerged from the room, a small smile across his face. “Y/N is completely fine.” Inasa physically relaxed at his words, though the comfort was short lived as he continued, “Though we will need to make sure she gets plenty of extra rations for the next few months.”

It clicked a lot faster with you than it did your towering lover and so when you audibly gasped and brought your hands to you mouth, in both a reaction to the news and the new wave of bile inching up your throat, Inasa took notice and was at your side quickly. “Mora senpai… I don’t understand-”

“Y/N is pregnant, you idiot.” Shishikura yelled from around the corner where he and Camie both emerged from. Thankfully she had cleaned up before embracing you in a hug and patting Inasa on the back.

“... oh fuuuuuuck…”

“Yeah, that’s how y’all got here!”

“Camie you aren’t helping!”

#z is here #z is thirsty #inasa x reader #inasa yoarashi x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #inasa smut #mha x reader #mha smut #18+#discord collab #bnharem collab #server collab #zombie #zombie apocolypse au #no quirks au #sorry not sorry #friends to lovers trope

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tuancore · 4 years

Text

Lost You (Part 12) :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

The more you rotated your eyes around the place, the more you realised how every single thing in there held so many sweet memories. Had the circumstances been different you would've cried out of joy, for every showpiece, every photo frame, every furniture, every book had you and Jinyoung connected with the greatest love which all of your friends swore by, standing inside your apartment alone, your form was trembling burning with rage and grief at the same time, the whole place smelled like home, Jinyoung's Cologne mixed with yours and it began to suffocate you. You didn't want to have any sort of attachment with him.

You hated him for that.

When you first told your parents about dating Jinyoung, they grew quite awkward, which only meant hesitation. You took Jinyoung home, with you couple of times which eased some of their hesitation, your father seemed to grow fond of him, as they played billiards and chess together, it was as if Jinyoung's love in its raw form was visible in everything he did, but your mother never really approved of your relationship with him.

"Why don't you like Jinyoung already? Just look at dad, he's so happy whenever Jinyoung's home" You remarked hugging your mother's shoulders as Jinyoung and your father played chess. Staring at them intently, your mother finally spoke up "I can see how much you both love eachother, but I don't know why I have this uneasy feeling, I don't feel like giving you to him". Shaking your head you pecked your mother's cheeks, saying "Mom stop worrying, you're overthinking. I assure you that he'll love me forever and keep me happy maybe even more than you guys", your little teasing earned you a light head smack from her, "Hopefully honey".

Grabbing your hair harshly you sobbed harder with each passing second, only if you listened to your mother, you wouldn't be standing here like a bloody mess. Your heart was already ripped apart and now your soul was also starting to give up. Striding towards the windows, you tugged onto the curtains harshly as they landed on the floor with a thud, along with the curtain rod, then striding towards the television you pushed it from the tabletop another harsh sound joining the air.

You hated him for that.

"Why! Why! Why! Just why Jinyoung why?! You promised that you'll love me more than yourself! You promised to always put me first!" You punched the wall beside, with every word, ranting to particularly no one, as your knuckles bled painting the beige wall red, "You promised me......then why?".

Despite your bleeding hand, you started taking out every single photo frame from that wall, throwing it somewhere across the room. The place echoed with the noise of breaking and shattering of glasses as frames and showpieces landed harshly on the floor. Rage was all that filled your mind at the moment. Throwing and breaking things wouldn't turn back things to the way they were, but you wanted to destroy every single thing that reminded of your love for him, you wanted your tears to stop flowing for him when he wasn't even worthy to be cried over.

You hated him for that.

Trashing the entire living room, you locked yourself in the bedroom. Reminiscing all over again, staring at the bed where you both spent countless nights loving eachother under the sheets with both of your bodies and souls as one, the times when you both had pillow fights just to win a stupid argument. Yes, you both argued most of the time over nonsensical and useless things but never seriously. Never.

Not to forget those reading sessions, whenever it came to reading books it was a constant for you to occupy the centre of bed either laying on your stomach or on your back, with your spectacles on while Jinyoung liked reading sitting on his beanbag with a vanilla latte or a cup of coffee in his hand, a black squared frame sitting on his nose bridge firmly making him look more handsome. It used to go well for few hours but after you both have satisfied your reading pleasure, you both used to exchange glances at eachother throught the pages of the book to make sure the other one is also done reading and when one puts off their spectacles then it's over.

You hated him for that.

Coming to the kitchen, it was another sweet little thing that you both enjoyed dearly. It was a rule that Jinyoung set up that the one who comes home early will cook the meals, since the one coming late might be exhausted as hell, and whenever you both were late, you guys ordered for a take out. However, mostly it was you both cooking together, no matter who was cooking and who was volunteering, you both couldn't help but keep on brushing past eachother making sure to have some physical contacts.

"I don't know how to bake a cake" You whined, reluctantly putting on the apron. Jinyoung chuckled tying your apron behind your back guiding you to mix the batter, but when you started to mix it, he stood behind you so close that you were able to feel his hot breath fanning your neck, "Angel..slow down.." he whispered darkly, placing his lips on your neck, "Jinyoung...." Suppressing a moan, you pushed him off, "Go prepare other things".

After setting the batter into the mould, you both waited patiently but you being you grabbed a handful of white flour throwing it on Jinyoung, laughing your stomach out you remarked "Your hair is finally dyed to...white...let me click a pic and send it to others". Jinyoung gave you a jokeful glare, grabbing some flour too, he chased you around the house, hugging you closely to him putting flour in your head, "Now yours white too, let's send them our pic with #couplegoals".

Thinking of every moment you both shared there was way too many, that you can never forget even if you gave it your all.

You hated him for that.

Your gaze shifted towards the balcony, it was where you both discussed about your days over a cup of coffee or hot chocolate after an exhausting time at works, how his father always stuffed him with contracts and clients, how your boss nagged you for not being fast enough to complete your work. The times when you stressed over things and he back hugged you peppering your necks and shoulders with kisses which always began innocently but ended up in bed.

There was something about his touch, his words which always lured you to him. The way he gently placed you on bed, before stripping you to nakedness before his eyes, which never spoke hunger for your body but always love and affection, the way he always asked for your consent before making love to you even if he had done it thousands of time before, he was always respectful. During sex, he always cared about your comfort first, he always put you first focusing on your release before his, he liked doing it slow and passionately to show how much he was in love with you and not to forget the "I love you's" You both let out moaning at the feeling as your bodies became one. Over the time, you got so accustomed to his touch and presence that he could have you writhing under without putting any efforts from his side.

You hated him for all the times he sweetly whispered those "I love you's" in your ears.

You hated him for everything.

__________

Jinyoung gasped at the news of your miscarriage, he wanted to cry his out but then again it's what he has been doing for the past few hours. Even his tears can't bring back the child, the evidence of your love for eachother, it was too late now, way too late. BamBam nodded at Jinyoung finally letting hot tears spill from his eyes for the first time after he entered into Jinyoung's cabin.

Nobody dared to speak a single word, how could they when none of them had any particular words left to say. But there was one common sentence running through all six of theirs heads was 'Everything is over'. Heart was not only bleeding but souls and minds were ripping apart as well, they all felt like losing some battle at the last after fighting it with a silver armour.

Even one could see BamBam falling apart, the one who fought for you and Jinyoung with the world just to give you both the same love back. No one saw him crying before, until now. Somehow he blamed the misfortune of you losing the baby on himself.

"Only....If....I didn't let Noona talk to Jisoo and neither had she run away like that.....and...." BamBam's voice getting inaudible, his throat tying. Yugyeom hugged BamBam stroking his back, trying to soothe some of his pain although he knew it was useless, "BamBam.....don't blame yourself, please don't.....you only meant good for noona from the start.....so please....." Yugyeom whispered closing his own eyes shut to prevent his tears from falling.

"It's all my fault......" Jinyoung whispered covering his entire face, "No one is responsible for any of this..... except for me...". Though it was true that Jinyoung was the sole reason behind all these mishappens, he was already drowning in remorse and others didn't want to scold him any further, what would they even gain by scolding him or lecturing him or making him feel the worst person in this entire planet, Will you get your same love back? No. Will you get your child back? No.

"I want to see her...." Was all he managed to cough out, somehow keeping his tears at bay. It was understandable, you both will always be deep rooted in eachother's heart. Whenever Jinyoung did something to hurt you it also hurt him but he loves you and that can never be altered. He was a fool to not to clarify things with you but he always felt sick without you around. He even started to hallucinate you everywhere, in his cabin, in his car, even when he slept he imagined you hugging him, he loves you, but it's his insecure nature which made him lose your love and the child.

"I don't think it's a good time to meet—" JB started with hesitation but BamBam cut in, removing Yugyeom's arms from his body, "I'll take you there".

"But BamBam!" Mark reasoned, BamBam shook his head in denial not wanting to hear any of there theories, "It's best if they both just talk everything out, right now", BamBam completed, putting his phone inside his pants pocket, he grabbed Jinyoung's arm firmly pulling him outside, with others following behind.

"BamBam things will get pretty ugly, Do you think they can just chit chat about what happened?" Jackson belted, as if BamBam was high on thin air. "I know what I'm doing and please.....I don't have any strength left in me to prolong things....".

"Hyungs, Yugyeom....Go home, get some rest, it's better if they talk alone without anyone around" BamBam blurted with a knowing look, hoping for everyone to understand as they nodded.

"BamBam—" Jinyoung called, which BamBam decided to ignore, "Hyung... if I'm helping you that doesn't mean I've forgiven you......nor will I anytime soon", he sternly announced, stepping on the gas pedal.

Jinyoung immediately shut his mouth, staring outside of the window, the sky has already darkened as street lights shone brightly, his mind drifted off to you, how much you loved the night views.

Jinyoung laid lazily on the couch with,'To Kill A Mockingbird',one of his favourite books in his hands reading it with great concentration,on the other hand you were getting crazy as he is reading that book for three hours straight, sitting on the centre table you tapped your feet impatiently.

"Jinyoung...Enough of reading~~" You whined, pouting like a kid but yet he ignored it by reading the lines out aloud. Letting out a groan, you snatched his book running around the house, it was finally his turn to groan,"Give me my book".

"No...you'll get your book when we'll get some ice cream together!",Sighing he agreed.

He was about to take his car when you pleaded him to go on a bike,you hugged his waist tightly sitting behind him, resting your head on his broad back inhaling the evening air. Jinyoung smiled widely, everything you did made him realise how much in love he was with you. The whole ride you kept on hugging him, staring at the lights hung on trees and railings, so beautiful.

After getting the ice cream, you both played in the snow which was gathered in the amusement park, "Nyoung...I just love night time, so cold yet the environment is so warm it gives off so much happiness!" Squealing you threw a snowball at him. "Yeps..with you I feel that happiness" he smiled, dusting off snow from him, placing his lips on your plump ones, he whispered, "I love you".

"I love you more".

Retrieving to the reality, Jinyoung asked hesitantly, "Do you think she'll forgive me?", "To be honest, I have no idea, it's upto her now, you can only hope for the best...." BamBam replied, pulling the car in the parking lot.

When Jinyoung noticed that it was both of yours shared apartment his eyes widened, he stared at BamBam as to why he has brought him here. "I told you I'll take you to Noona..." He muttered getting out of the car.

"She's here...?" Jinyoung tried to reconfirm, "Are you sure?..". Taking the elevator to the desired floor, Jinyoung's body began to tremble real bad, his face got pale as soon as the elevator came to a halt.

"Lisa herself dropped Noona here" BamBam informed, pushing Jinyoung towards the main door, "I won't go inside..... All the best", chills ran through his body, beads of cold sweats forming on his forehead, he tried to open the door but it was locked from inside luckily he had his key with him. Shooting a final glance at BamBam he pushed open the door.

His body freezing at the mere sight of the house, everything completely destroyed. The wall where he hung both of yours pictures all trashed, glass splattered everywhere on the floor, his eyes after scanning each and every part stopped at the red stains on the picture wall, hesitantly walking towards it, he saw fresh blood with your hand marks. Tears rolled down his eyes, not only did he break you but also shattered you completely to debris.

However finding the door to both of your bedroom's locked, he hurried trying to push it open, but stopped since it was locked. Pressing his ears to the door he tensed at your loud sobs and whimpers, hearing your voice your pain and disappointment was visible. And it ripped Jinyoung's heart.

"I HATE YOU PARK JINYOUNG!!!!" You yelled in a high pitch, which made Jinyoung cry listening to so much hate for him.

"I'M SORRY ANGEL!!" He let out a loud whimper making sure you hear him, "I AM SO SO SO SORRY".

Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13

______________________________________

#got7 imagines #got7 jinyoung #got7 x reader #jinyoung imagines #got7 angst #got7 bambam #got7 jackson #got7 jaebeom #got7 mark #got7 youngjae #got7 yugyeom #jinyoung angst #jinyoung au

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

Text

Homeward Bound or Meeting The Family

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Rod pushes forward the flight back to Kirby's homeland by a day and meets her parents, her Mam takes an instant liking to him, her Da not so much.

Kirby's POV:

Rod shook me awake early in the morning of the Twenty-Seventh.

"Kirbs, we gotta pack."

"No we don't the flight back ain't 'till tomorrow."

"I called the airport, they let me push the trip forward by a day."

I shot up, giving him a worried look, "You pushed the flight forward to today?"

"Yeah."

I rushed to pack everything I had into my bags, mumbling incoherently under my breath.

"When do we leave?"

Rod picked up my suitcase, walking to the door, "In about half an hour."

I threw my gym bag over my shoulder and rushed to get into the D200, waiting for Roddy to check us out of the hotel and join me.

The flight back was uneventful and we got a taxi to my parent's home, with me ringing the doorbell and waiting for the door to open, hearing my parents muffled voices from inside.

"Ya didn't order anything, Heaven?"

"No, Eric. I'll go see who it is."

I shot Rod a reassuring look and waited for my Mam to open the door.

The door swung open.

"fy mhlentyn melys." She put her hands up to cover her mouth.

"Hi Mammy." I dropped my bags and hugged her.

"Come in, come in." She guided us into the living room, my Da on the recliner chair next to the sofa in front of the TV, "We weren't expectin' ya back today. How long are ya staying?"

"About three weeks, ma'am." Rod explained.

"'three weeks'?" I whispered, he nodded in return.

My Da looked up and immediately got up to hug me, "Aw, my baby has come home. Who's your friend?"

"Well, Mam, Da, this is Roddy Piper. He's a co-worker and a close friend." I sheepishly explained.

"I'm ya daughter's boyfriend." He butted in.

"Oh, Really, Is that so?" My Da started, having decided to quiz Roddy, "If you're her boyfriend, what's her favourite food?"

"Da, question him later, please."

"Alright, you're off the hook for now, boyo."

"If you're home for the next week then you can come with us on Sunday to the family get together."

"Which is on Sunday because you expected me back tomorrow?"

"Aye. Your new man can come with us if he likes."

I shot my Mam my best look of 'shuddup Mam you're embarrassing me'.

"I'd love to join you and meet more of your beautiful daughter's family."

We sat on the sofa, with me between Rod and my Da in his recliner chair, my Mam stayed on her feet and the straggler, my old cat came striding into the room and jumped up onto my lap, quickly curling up and letting me pet him.

"Do any of ya want a coffee, or tea?"

"A coffee would be nice." my Da mumbled, focusing again on the TV.

"Yes, a coffee please, Mam."

"A, uh, a cup of tea please, Missus Trevor."

"Ya got yourself a polite one there, Kirby."

"Mam." I chided her as she walked out of the room.

"Who's ya little buddy?"

"This, Rod, is 'The Straggler', he's my cat, and he's a cute little fat blob of a ginger fluffball. Sometimes I think I'm the reason he's fat, other times I think it's him sneaking out at night and eating things he shouldn't, like grass."

"So, his name's 'The Straggler'?"

"No, his actual name is 'Tiger' but we call him 'Fat Man' or 'The Straggler'."

"So, where do we put our bags?"

I lifted the straggler off my lap and got up, placing him back on my seat, he quickly curled up again, happy to be in a place that I had been in seconds before, "Come on, I'll show ya." I grabbed my bags and led Roddy to my bedroom upstairs, putting down my gym bag and opening the door as far as it would go.

My bedroom isn't the biggest but it's big enough to comfortably fit myself and at least one other person. The wall facing the door was covered by a big gothic graveyard tapestry, my sofa bed in front of it, large enough to fit two people or one giant.

The wall to the right was covered by posters of varying designs and sizes, all being rather dark or darkly comedic in nature. In front of that was my desk, completely covered with small trinkets and tiny states as well as a small radio.

Next to that was a bedside cabinet with a makeup caddy on top and my Mam had seemingly gone out to a local shop, buying some fudge and chocolate which she had placed on the cabinet-top.

The wall to the left had a window and a radiator underneath, the curtains, a deep red tartan, were parted, allowing the somewhat bright light of the afternoon into the room.

We walked in and Rod sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress and letting out a deep sigh. I walked around to the chest of drawers behind the door and placed my bags on top of it.

"So, your parents aren't as tall as I'd thought they'd be?"

"My Da's five-foot-nine, my Mam's five-foot-four. I have gigantism."

"I know that, but, I just, I guess I wasn't expecting them to be so," He seemed to be fumbling with his words, unsure of how to explain himself, he huffed and then continued, "I wasn't expecting them to be so nice."

"Well, they were kinda forced to be both protective and kind as I grew up. Kind to others who want to be in my life while protecting me from a potentially very harsh world."

"'Cause you're a giant."

"Yeah."

"How old are your parents?"

"My Da's fifty-nine and my mam is sixty."

"They look a lot fucking younger."

"Roderick."

"Kirby, coffee!" My Mam yelled up from downstairs, "You're Uncle David's here!"

"Oh wow, didn't hear my Da call him."

"You expected to hear a phone call from up here?"

"No, they live down the street. Trust me if my family wanted to, we could fill a small town."

"Big family."

"Big but loving family, mostly."

We walked downstairs, getting our drinks from the kitchen, as per the usual my Mam had put them in 'relevant' graphic mugs, mine reading 'Head in the clouds. Feet on the ground.' and Roddy's reading 'Scots know best'. We walked into the living room and Rod got a look at my Uncle David.

A Chubby man with a darker tan than my Da but only slightly shorter despite being older than my Da, as if that has any holding in height.

"Well now, who's this bright young spark hanging out with our Kirby?"

"Uncle David, this is Roddy Piper. Rod, this is my Uncle David."

"Hello, Sir, nice to meet ya."

Hours passed by like minutes just talking and laughing, when we noticed it getting darker, we said our goodbyes and then the conversation over dinner started.

"Take-out or are we cooking?" My Da quizzed

"Well, what've we got in the fridge?" I inquired, quizzing him back

"Enough for a fry up."

"Then I'll make us all a fry up."

"Ya sure?"

"Yeah, unless you're dead-set on having take-out."

"Well if we go down now, we can get a big pizza that'll last today and tomorrow and we won't have to cook."

"Good point, Da. Let's go then."

My Da quickly put his boots on and we headed down the street, bought a big square 32" pizza, walking home with a smaller box of garlic bread slices atop the massive pizza box. We ate and finished our drinks before going to bed for the night, my parents in their room, the straggler in a bucket on the landing and Rod sleeping next to me, or at least we should have been sleeping.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I love ya, ya know that, right?"

"Yes, I love you too, what's wrong?"

"Part of me wants to be part of your family and another part of me wants to say it's somehow all a lie."

"Well, why do you feel that way?"

"I guess, ugh, no I can't talk about it. But, I've got to say this, just to make sure you understand me. I left home when I was thirteen because I hated how my parents treated me and I needed to get out of that situation. I think I'm just expecting your family to be the same deep down."

"Rod, I love you, I truly do, but, my parents are the way they seem, they're nice but we do get angry, me and my Da have had so many shouting matches I can't count how many times I wanted to run away when I was growing up, but we moved past it. We grew and changed because we knew how badly it would screw the three of us up. My Da's easily angered, my Mam is easily upset, I'm easily anxious."

"Am I going to be stared at on Sunday, baby?"

"Probably. But then again, no one's really used to me having a partner because they never met Erik, and he was never my boy-"

Rod cut me off with a rough kiss, quickly silencing me.

"I thought I said, don't bring him up."

"Roderick Piper. My parents are down the hall and I thought we agreed to only da that when we want to have kids."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we can't make out."

"You bring up a good point, come here."

I pulled him into a kiss, intertwining my fingers with his short locks, feeling his hands under my shirt, skin against skin. Somehow the only person I want near me at any point from now onwards in a any way is him, it's like I've forgotten the feeling of anyone else's touch against my skin. He makes me feel sane, and understood, like he is truly 'the one' but only time will tell, I guess.

When we awoke the next morning, Rod's forehead was lightly touching mine.

"Roddy," I whispered, "Roddy, honey."

"What is it babe?"

"Wake up hon."

"Five more minutes, you elven beauty."

I let Rod go back to sleep and got up, dressing myself in some casual clothes (black overalls and a black graphic T-shirt with a skull on it) and headed to the garage/gym space my dad had built.

I didn't realise that half an hour had passed until a knock at the door broke my concentration on my current workout.

"Come in, door's open."

"Hey Sweetheart."

"Hi, Rod, whaddya want?" I asked, breathless.

"Ya Mam sent me to talk to ya, said ya didn't get any breakfast, wanted me to give ya this," He chucked over a sealed bottle of chocolate milk, "Ya alright baby girl?"

"I'm fine, I just missed being able to just come in here and work out."

"So, this is how ya trained when ya were younger?"

"Yeah, I started wrestling when I was sixteen and before that I did kick-boxing, gymnastics, rugby, football, anything really," I took a swig of the milk, "One day, my uncle Tony, took me and my cousins to see a wrestling show, when I was about fourteen, and I decided that's what I wanted to do."

"So you focused on wrestling from that point onwards, ya never wanted to do anything different?"

I took another swig of the milk, letting out a vague 'mmn' before putting it down so I could answer him, "Wasn't until I was, twenty-five that I started thinking, about what the rest of my life holds for me, I would like a house of my own, and someone to share it with. Potentially a small but traditional wedding, a couple of kids, maybe a pet or tw-"

Rod pulled me into a rough but loving kiss, cupping my cheek with one hand and wrapping his opposite arm around my waist. A couple seconds later he pulled away, kissing my neck and whispering out the words, "Mo chridhe, I promise you I'll do whatever I can to give you everything you need in life. A family. A home. A traditional wedding. Kids. Anything, you name it and I will try my hardest to give it to you, and even if I don't succeed, you'll still have my love. Forever and ever, mo chridhe, I mean it."

"Roddy, I … I have no words good enough to describe how safe and happy, and sane you make me feel."

"I don't need words. Actions speak a million times louder."

"C'mere you," I pulled him into another kiss, intertwining my left hand with his hair and wrapping my right arm around his waist, feeling his arms around my waist slowly pull me as close as he could get me, letting the quiet calm of the morning slowly turn into a small amount of chaos as he pulled away with that devilish grin on his face. It's shocking how that grin can make me feel intrigued but scared at the same time.

END OF HOMEWARD BOUND or MEETING THE FAMILY

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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Fic: Stuck In The Middle With You (1/5)

Note: This story is a challenge that a friend and I came up with to write a time loop story in honor of upcoming Groundhog Day and the film of the same name. We are both trying to finish a loop story by February 2nd! Join us and write your own!

Summary: A month after the apocalyse-that-wasn't, both Crowley and Aziraphale are beyond frustrated that they still haven't moved beyond their impasse of neither of them wanting to make the first move and declare their feelings. Fortunately, Crowley has decided to do something about it.

Go read the full story on AO3!

Chapter 1

It was three weeks after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and Crowley woke up aware of two very important things: one, the sun was shining directly in his face, which wasn’t supposed to happen in his dark and gloomy bedroom, and two, he was intensely frustrated with the situation between him and his angel.

He cracked an eye open and took a look around to see what had caused the sunlight problem, and noted that one of his curtain rods has somehow fallen in the night, bringing one side of the dark gray velvet curtains down and allowing the atrocity of morning sunlight to shine in on him at seven thirty in the bloody morning. This was wrong. Crowley preferred to sleep in complete darkness until at least noon. He threw back the black comforter and stomped over to peer at the empty screw holes in the wall, and then snapped it all back in place with a quick round of hellish power. Then, just for effect, he threatened the offending curtain rod with all the curses he could think of if it ever had the temerity to do so again.

That settled, he stalked out to the kitchen to magic himself up a cappuccino and think about his second problem. Namely, Aziraphale.

It had been nearly a month since the events at Tadfield Air Base, since their kidnappings and narrow escape from the respective forces of Above and Below. They were free, independent, on their own side for the first time in millennia. Problem was, Crowley had thought that On Their Own Side would mean an end to six millennia of dithering about whether they did or didn’t have feelings for each other. Because he absolutely did. And he was nearly sure the angel harbored feelings at well. But the angel – despite no longer needing to be afraid – continued to equivocate. He was absolutely, positively, dithering full speed ahead.

Nothing, essentially, had changed.

Sure, they saw each other much more, and they didn’t have to skulk around using their various hidden meeting points around town anymore. They had lunches that turned into dinners and met for breakfast and took walks and managed to spend as much time together as they could – but still, Aziraphale was keeping his distance, emotionally. He kept his hands primly folded and his gazes lowered and his feelings to himself.

It was driving Crowley stark, raving mad. And today, he’d decided, was the day it was going to change, no matter what it took. He’d been researching, watching lots and lots of romantic movies and noting what always brought the leads together in the end. He’d been collating and cross referencing and considering what he’d learned and what he knew about his angel. In the end, he decided, it all came down to one thing: a rival.

With a grim smile, the demon pulled out his phone and began to finalize his plans.

Aziraphale finished his entries in the ledger for the month and put down his fountain pen with a contented sigh. There was nothing quite as satisfying as finishing a ledger and seeing all the neat numbers, handwritten in crisp black ink, marching neatly down the page in their tidy columns. He blew on the ink to ensure it was dry, and then eased the book closed and back onto the top shelf of the desk. Then he sat back and let his mind drift for a moment, and of course, it drifted to the Crowley problem.

Aziraphale was frustrated. It had been nearly a month and the demon seemed no closer than ever to indicating if he had any romantic interest in him or not. Sure they were spending more time together, and they were much less paranoid about being seen together, but so far all of his attempts to signal interest – by feathering his nest, so to speak, making things as comfortable as he could for Crowley, lingering near and batting his eyelashes, leaning in and giving him what he thought of as his special Crowley smile – had fallen short.

He wondered, perhaps, if he had misjudged Crowley’s interest all along. The thought petrified him. The last thing he wanted to do, now that they finally had peace, was to push the demon away by nudging him for a romantic commitment that he had no real interest in. And so he held himself back, watching and waiting, hoping that things might become clear with time.

The bell over the bookshop door jingled and he knew without looking that it was the demon in question.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called out as he came strolling into the office. “You back here?”

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley flopped down onto the couch. “You look nice today – is that a new shirt?” the angel asked, eyeing the demon closely.

“I do that from time to time,” Crowley said as he settled even further into a sprawl. “Got anything to drink around here?”

Aziraphale gave him one last perusal and headed off to the kitchen to make some tea, adding a good dollop of whiskey to Crowley’s, before heading back and settling down on the other end of the couch.

Crowley took an exploratory sip, grunted appreciatively and then downed half of the cup in a single swallow. “So angel, did you hear that the pub down the street is changing owners again?”

“The good pub or the bad pub?”

“The bad one. Switching hands.”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale said with interest. “Well one can only hope that perhaps there will be a resulting increase in the quality of their –"

He was cut off by the tinkle of the front door yet again. Aziraphale looked up in annoyance.

“Oh good lord,” he said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?”

Crowley sat suddenly upright, catching a glimpse of someone through the stacks behind them. “Oh no, angel, that’s not really a customer – this one’s mine. New friend – I invited him to come see the shop.”

As Crowley got up to go greet the newcomer, Aziraphale took a moment to examine the man. Their visitor was younger than them, in his late 20s perhaps, with the moderate, wiry build of someone who worked out regularly. He wore sharply creased, high-end jeans with a button down shirt and a slim cut black blazer. His dark hair was cut short and swept back away from his chiseled face where dark brown eyes looked around, taking the shop in. He was, in a word, quite handsome.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called as he turned back towards the office, “come meet Kevin.”

Aziraphale plastered on a smile and went over to shake hands with Crowley’s new friend. “Welcome, Kevin,” he said with warmth but a slight tinge of reserve to his voice. “How do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we met at the pub the other night,” Crowley said. “Night you were busy with the taxes, I think. Ended up having a few drinks and it turns out Kevin here has quite a love of books. I told him to drop by and have a look next time he was in Soho.”

Aziraphale made as a good host should and offered his new acquaintance a tour, showing him the highlights of his collection. To his credit, Kevin made intelligent comments and seemed to know his first editions. The angel had to admit he was quite personable.

“Have a seat, I’ll go get some tea,” Aziraphale said, heading off to the back room. He spent a few minutes thinking while he put a tea tray together. It wasn’t like Crowley to invite people around to his shop – he couldn’t think of it happening more than once or twice in the last two hundred years, and when it had, it was usually someone he thought Aziraphale needed to know, not someone he’d been off drinking with. Nonetheless, he told himself, no point in being a ninny about these things; there was no reason Crowley couldn’t make a new friend, and perhaps he was introducing him to Aziraphale so that he’d realize there was nothing to worry about.

When he came back out with the tea, however, he found Crowley and Kevin sitting just a little too close together on the sofa, with Crowley leaning in towards the young man to mumble something in a low voice that made him laugh.

He had, Aziraphale noted, a lovely laugh.

If he put down the tea tray a little too firmly, he was able to play it off as a bit of momentary clumsiness, nothing more.

Aziraphale tried to join in the general conversation and Kevin did make a point of nicely attempting to include him, but he couldn’t help but notice that, mostly, Kevin and Crowley wanted to talk to each other. They were laughing and chatting about various people at the pub and some kind of hilarious hijinks that took place there. They gamely tried to explain it to Aziraphale, but it really turned out to be one of those ‘you-had-to-be-there’ moments.

The angel tuned out a bit and instead sat back and examined them both a little more closely. Was there a bit more of a sparkle in Crowley’s eye than usual? He seemed … almost flushed. Unusually attentive to what the human was saying. From his perch across the room, Aziraphale didn’t see what was so fascinating about Kevin’s conversation. He was funny but not exactly witty. He was attractive, but in an obvious sort of way. He was smart, but not brilliant. Aziraphale sniffed a little in disdain.

And as for Kevin – it was obvious to see that he was quite smitten with the demon next to him. Everything about his body language shouted it – the slight lean, the hand that hovered near his shoulder on the back of the couch, the ready and eager way he laughed at everything Crowley said. The slightly too-long eye contact whenever possible. It was obvious and overblown and he couldn’t believe Crowley was falling for it.

What on earth was going on? Aziraphale eventually excused himself and went to his desk to shuffle papers. Neither of his companions appeared to notice.

After another twenty minutes of conversation, Kevin finally got up to excuse himself.

“I’m co-hosting a party tonight at a flat in Chelsea,” Kevin said. “The owner is an old friend of mine and he’s recently sold the place, so we’re having a farewell bash before he hands it over. You should both come! Be my guests.”

Aziraphale knew Crowley hated parties, so he immediately started formulating a polite refusal for both of them.

“Thank you but I’m not sure if we will be able to –"

“We’d love to,” Crowley said, not even seeming to hear the angel. “See you there.”

He didn’t seem to notice Aziraphale staring at him in surprise.

“Well he seems lovely,” Aziraphale said after the door had shut behind him. “New friend, then?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Crowley said as he walked around restlessly, touching various knick-knacks and removing and replacing various volumes. “He seemed nice. Thought maybe it would be a good time to broaden our circle a little bit. Try out something new.”

Since when do you like nice? Aziraphale thought. Since when do we have a circle?

He couldn’t decide if Crowley was interested in the newcomer himself or if he was trying to set Aziraphale up with him, but either way it appeared to be bad news.

Crowley headed home and pulled out his phone to text Kevin.

Good work, he wrote. I think he’s getting a little jealous. We will up the ante tonight as discussed.

A second later, there was a ding for an incoming message.

You bet boss. What do you want me to do, exactly?

Crowley thought for a moment and then wrote back.

Let’s play it by ear, but definitely include some dancing and maybe a snog or two if the moment seems right.

You got it.

Crowley sprawled down on the couch and snapped his fingers to turn on the television and tried to find a nice sitcom to relax with. A moment later his phone buzzed again.

Wear something cute.

He rolled his eyes. Actors. Always so dramatic.

Go read the rest of chapter one on AO3!

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable idiots #aziraphale x crowley #time loop #crowley is not quite as good of a problem solver as he thinks he is #reversing time #hurt/comfort #angsty fluff #fluffy angst

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years

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A View To A Winchester (Part 8)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,483

Section Content: fluff, flirting, arousing, kissing, R-rated language, drinking, more Spice Girls references

~~~~~

The doorbell chimed at 8:03 pm. Julie had been pacing in the entryway since 7:50 pm. Unsure as to which entrance Dean would choose, she’d closed the curtains to the sliding door. Mood lighting had been set to a somewhat romantic minimum. She still wanted to be able to ogle the man.

Every thought and decision that day had in one way or another circled back to Dean. She’d even dreamed about him that night. The mild annoyances of work texts and emails, when she made the mistake to check her inbox, did little to sidetrack her from the tasks leading up to this moment.

There’d been no calls, no texts from Mr. Winchester since the night before. And she’d made a point to avoid staring out her office window or back door every five minutes. A quick trip out to the backyard to toss some garbage found the Impala still in his driveway. Tingles of excitement rushed over her skin. There was a very real probability that Dean could be keeping an eye out for her. That he’d been doing it for weeks produced a grin on her face throughout the day.

Now, her gaze lingered at the imposing shadow outlined against the beveled glass of the front door. A check in the mirror produced a nod. She inhaled and took in the surrounding scents. The perfume was not overpowering. The other aroma filling the air had her the most anxious. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Julie pulled on the door and braced herself, leaning against the edge for support. Thank goodness she had. Spotlighted in a golden wash of technicolor, Dean stood at the base of the step up in a radiant glory. The man was actually glowing.

He was still taller than her by a few inches, even with her temporary height advantage. It afforded her the opportunity to only tilt her head up in a slight nod to gaze at his face.

His mouth cocked up the side in a sassy grin. It fell away as he gave her a once over, top to bottom. Have at it, Mr. Winchester. I’m going to revel in the constant blushing you’ll be causing tonight. There it is, that damn lip licking. Good God. His gaze rode its way up her body back to her face. His grip on the neck of the wine bottle tightened. “Evenin’.”

“Hi.” Her mouth managed to spill out the one word greeting. She stepped aside to welcome him in.

Dean stepped up into the entryway, now towering beside her. He took the lead to close the door with one hand, offering the bottle with the other. “Wine.”

She grinned. “Thank you.” She grabbed the bottle at the base, intent on avoiding any skin. She might jump his bones right there if they made contact. “Have a seat if you’d like.” Her nod pointed to the living room.

His nose twitched. A deep inhale followed. His posture straightened, gaining inches of stature. Julie pursed her lips and squashed a grin. “What’d you make?” he asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

This man standing in front of her was so other level, so beyond reachable and enigmatic in terms of attractiveness and attitude. Top shelf and bottom of the barrel somehow all at once. A tailored three-piece suit mixed with a leather jacket worn out to perfection. But there was also something so approachable and knowing, as well, that made her willing to put herself out there.

Is this what they mean by chemistry? It’s been so long, I forgot what it felt like. She ripped the imaginary censor tape off her mouth. “You may have entered this house a single man, Dean, but, by the end of the night...” She trailed off.

A genuine, unadulterated smile lined his mouth. “Don’t tease, sweetheart.”

She laughed. “Why not? Can’t take what you so easily dish out?”

“Not where pie is concerned.”

“Sit. Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

He nodded and wandered toward the sofa. Those damn bowlegs and swagger getting all her attention and throwing her off her train of thought. Dark, midnight blue jeans and a deep forest green button up shirt, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, hugged his figure. And the man was wearing cowboy boots. Fucking cowboy boots. Kill me now.

Before he could turn around to catch her staring, she ducked into the kitchen to catch her breath. The white wine went into the fridge. Cool air from the open door skirted over and bathed her already goose-pimpled skin. “Can I get you something to drink?” She called out.

“Sure.”

“Bourbon?”

“You’ve got bourbon and pie?!” She couldn’t quite make out the muttering that followed the quizzical exclamation. “That’d be great,” he said in a louder volume that carried clear into the kitchen.

Julie came back with two tumblers a minute later.

“You drink bourbon?” he asked. His fingers wrapped around hers as she passed the glass. His eyes lifted in what looked to be mild surprise with the touch.

She let the warmth of his rough hand permeate and wash under her skin. “No, actually. But, I figured you did.” She sat next to him on the couch, careful not to spill the small amount of liquor in her glass.

“Was it your goal to check off all my favorite things tonight?”

She shrugged and crossed her legs. “Wouldn’t say goal. Hope.”

Dean toasted in mid-air and took a sip. Brows rose. “Hm. Well done with the bourbon.” His gaze trailed over her floral print dress. The fabric had the right amount of flutter over her sleeves and flounce around her chest for Julie. The knee length skirt rested a tad high up her thigh, thanks to an intentional tug of her fingers when his eyes got to that destination. A lick of his lips, when the stare halted at the revealed skin, had been the hoped-for reaction. She sipped to hide the giddy grin. The liquid sliding down her throat was velvet fire. It forced her mind to concentrate on the sensory effect of something other than Dean Winchester.

His silent assessment resumed. But whether it had been seconds or minutes Julie could not be a reliable witness. He stopped again at her favorite nude-colored, closed-toe, strappy heels. She twirled her foot. Only one of Dean’s eyebrows rose that time.

The ensemble had been the easiest decision she’d made that day. It made her feel sassy, sexy, confident, and every ounce a woman.

An unexpected dart of his eyes shot back to hers. Held breath zapped out of her lungs like a popped balloon. She hoped the reaction didn’t look as ridiculous as it sounded. But there was no laugh or throat clearing from him. “You look really nice tonight.” He added, in that beguiling baritone, “But, I don’t think I’ve seen you not look nice.”

She smiled at how good he was at covering all bases. “Thank you.” Her fingers danced over the tumbler’s etched glass. “You mentioned asking me out on a proper date, but having no clue what that was.” She shrugged. “I’m a little rusty in that department. Thought this might ease us both into the idea.”

He smiled and thumbed the rim of his glass. “Rusty is not how I would describe it. So, why no dinner?”

She laughed. “Hey, I made dessert.” He returned her laugh with a chuckle. “I don’t know. Don’t tell Brigida I flat out refused to make you dinner. I’ll get my wooden spoon taken away as punishment.”

That produced an even deeper laugh out of Dean’s throat. Composure regained after another sip, he studied her through a side stare. “It’s almost like you had something else in mind that would be occupying our time.”

“Just talking.” She tried to flash him her most innocent smile.

“Riiight.” He dragged out the word. “Did your friends have a lot to talk about when I left last night?”

“So much… I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Hm. Catherine’s cute.”

Julie smiled. “She is.”

“So, I got the stamp of approval?”

“With some cautious reservations.”

“Sound like good friends.”

“They are. I don’t see them as often as I’d like to… you know, everyone always seems too busy to get together. But, Karen’s been checking up on me since she heard about Steve and...” She trailed off. Great, already mentioning the ex.

Dean nodded and cut her off, “Were you all in a sorority together? Did you have sexy sleepovers?” He raised his brows in a quick and comical gesture.

Julie laughed at his levity and the obvious attempt to bail her out with a topic change. “No sorority. We just all ended up in the same hall of our dorm. Bonded over Spice Girls and Sambuca one night. That was all she wrote.”

A frown. “Spice Girls?”

She shrugged. “I’m a Pop girl. But, I do appreciate classic rock.”

“Appreciate? Do you listen to it? Make a concerted effort to seek it out? Speak the truth, sweetheart.” His tone was serious, demanding, and kind of pushy. Damn. If he gets this worked up about music…

“Not really.”

He sighed. “Can you name me one Zeppelin song?”

She shook her head.

He clutched at his heart. “Confirms it. You aren’t the perfect woman.” Another sigh escaped those full lips, longer and drawn out this time. A heavy nod followed the resolved expression. “I should go.” Forlorn, puppy dog eyes met hers.

Jesus. Dramatic much? “If that’s really the deal breaker, then I guess you should go.” Julie played along.

He raised a finger. “How about this? You let me give you a crash course in classic rock one day. And, you promise never to subject me to the Spice Girls.”

Julie laughed. “I can’t promise that. But, I won’t intentionally play it in your presence, how about that?”

He produced a “Meh” and downturned his mouth.

“Are you quite the professor of rock and roll?”

“Oh yeah.” She found his eyes gazing with intent at her lips. “I could teach you a lot.”

The static charge was catapulting a frenzy of sexy into the room. Her body was drawn to his like a dowsing rod to water. Her ass shifted. Fingers rubbed over her neck, feeling the warmth. I’m probably beet red.

Dean’s hand that held the tumbler rose. One of the fingers popped free from the grip and did a swinging point at her face. “No glasses.”

“I went with contacts tonight.”

He grinned, “And, you wore your hair down again.”

“You said you liked it...”

He leaned in a few inches. Her thought cut off at the action. His visage turned to stone; eyes almost primal in their focus on her mouth. Again. “I like a lot of things.”

Holy shit. She froze in place. Could only stare at the beauty. Freckles. How did I not notice those before?

“This is dangerous, Julie.” He pulled himself back.

“W-why? What’s dangerous?”

“You are doing everything in your power to push all my buttons.” He shook his head. “It’s sexy as hell. But it’s only going to end one way.”

“What way is that?” Please say sex on this couch.

“Told you. Me turning into a jackass.”

Way to be a downer, Dean. Her lids narrowed. “Do you really believe that?”

He shrugged. “Decades of experience.”

“Can we just enjoy this?” Her plea was firm in its tone. “I’ve been through a crappy divorce from what turned out to be a turd of a husband hiding his yearlong shitty and adulterous behavior.” She closed her eyes. “I’d like to believe that we are two damaged adults that deserve some flirting and feel good times right now. I’m trying not to ‘what if’ you into the circling drain of catastrophic proportions.”

When she opened her eyes after the rant, she found him smiling.

She nodded. “Pie?”

His grin spread. “Pie.”

~~~~~

Three more glasses of bourbon on Dean’s end had loosened him into a comfortable heap on the sofa. He was on his third piece of pie, too. Julie had been mindful and stuck to the one glass. The pie, however, called out for a second slice to be cut. The conversation had shot into that wonderful galaxy of transitions and rabbit holes, where struggling to find the original thought only led to more discovery.

“Okay,” Dean shifted in his seat, “tell me one good thing about your ex.” He dusted some crust from the side of his mouth back onto the plate.

“Ugh,” she frowned.

“You just said you try to find one good thing about anyone and anything.”

“I didn’t think you were going to call me out on it.”

He smiled. “I’m sure you can. It was ten years, right?”

She eyerolled, turning pensive. “Steve always put the seat down.”

Dean laughed. “Gotta give him more than that.” He pointed at her. “Or, I blame you for staying that long.”

She sighed and plucked an apple with her fork. “He was a hard worker. He loved my mom, even though she always rode him for not being ‘the man’ she thought he should be. Not that my mom has a great grasp of a healthy male/female dynamic, mind you. He always tried to make her happy. And, by extension, me happy.” She went deeper. “He was romantic, even when I’d try to mess up his plans and be a grump. He was big on romance, for a long time.”

She caught Dean inspecting whatever reaction washed over her face. His gaze softened. “What happened?”

Julie shrugged. “Maybe I took him for granted. Maybe he took me for granted. Maybe a mid-life crisis turned his brain to mush and he thought he’d find happiness with a twenty something yoga instructor. I don’t know. He never offered an explanation. And, I didn’t want to hear one, anyway.”

“Yoga instructor?” Dean grinned.

Julie grinned at Dean’s grin. “You’re thinking about how bendy she is, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “I dated a yoga instructor. I know how bendy they are.”

“Do tell.”

His eyebrows rose. “You want details?”

Her bare feet, having long kicked off the heels, slid onto the sofa cushion and nestled under her ass and skirt. “All the details.” Another bit of pie slid into her mouth.

“She was pretty amazing.” He grabbed at the glass on the floor beside his spot and took a gulp. His reminiscent stare into the liquor heated Julie up again. He grinned, not meeting her eyes. “She could get into these positions… well, it was… awesome.” He returned the glass to its spot and focused on the pie plate. “Lisa was great on lots of levels.”

There was a palpable warmth to his memory. How long will it take me to think of Steve with even an ounce of that fondness? Will I ever be able to again? “Were you with her long?”

“Little over a year.” He stretched a bit and brought his eyeline back up to meet hers. “When I tried the normal life thing.” His eyes rounded like saucers. “God, that was like... over a decade ago. Ben’s in his twenties now.”

“Ben?”

“Lisa’s son.”

“Do you keep in touch?”

“Nah. It was better to cut ties. Have them move on, like I’d never messed up their life to begin with.”

“I’m sure you didn’t…”

“I did.” Dean nodded with certainty. “But, it was better after me, I guarantee it. What about you, though? Ten years. I mean, how are you doing with that kind of change?”

“Does it sound bad if I say it wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be?”

Dean smiled.

“I mean, the betrayal, the dishonesty, the collapse of my marriage. Yeah, that was devastating and had me on the fast track to a pint of Ben and Jerry’s every night. I cried for weeks… tried to keep my work life together during the day just to come home, wrecked, to an empty, fucking huge house… because he was staying over at Chelsea’s apartment until he got a new place.”

His face deadpanned. “Her name was Chelsea?”

Another eyeroll. “Yeah. And, our ‘marriage’ friends hightailed it out of existence… probably because most of them had known and didn’t want me to know that I knew that they knew.” She watched Dean try to process her ramble. She laughed at how absurd she sounded. “It was tough. I started to go to therapy again.” She waved a hand in the air. “Then, I found this place.” She slowed her breathing. “I had something that was mine again. Just mine. I don’t know, it kind of centered me.”

His cocky grin returned. “I hear the view’s pretty great, too.”

“The view is awesome.” Julie giggled.

“Oh, man.” He let out a huge yawn and leaned into the crook of the sofa’s corner. He slid like a serpent on his back, molding into the cushions. His legs draped over the edge. The empty pie plate and fork rested on the center of his chest, teetering a bit. “I’m feeling really good right now.” A beefy, muscled arm raised over his head. He clutched the armrest. His eyes closed.

“I bet.” Julie mumbled, staring.

An eye shot open. “Open invitation to come on over and find out.” He teased and knocked a knee against one of hers.

The ping pong game of flirting had been ongoing, with neither one missing a return yet. “But, I might take advantage of you, in this drunken state of yours.”

“Take, woman, take.” He grumbled and shut his eyes again. “Seriously, though…”

“Hm?” Julie deposited her empty plate on the side table.

“Did your husband not eat? Did he hate sweets? Cause, just as an act of self-preservation and I don’t know… non-stupidity… to give up ever eating your mom’s food… or, taste your baked goods again…” The brows twitched suggestively above his closed eyes.

Dirty, cheesy jokes. He’s lucky he’s so damn good looking. “Maybe Chelsea’s a good cook?” Julie offered.

Dean’s eyes batted open in a lazy gesture. “Yeah, and I’ve won the Nobel friggin’ Peace Prize.” He wagged a finger. “Now, if he’s anything like my brother, I might understand the short sightedness on his part.”

“Is your brother an asshole?” Julie grinned.

He chuckled. “No. He’s very fond of kale, though. He could resist your food charms.” Dean licked his lips, his chin to his chest, eyeing her. “But, he’s not blind. And, if he wasn’t already in a committed relationship…”

Julie gave him her best sexy side eye. “What?”

“We’d probably have to rock paper scissors for it.”

She tilted her head. “For what?”

“The chance to try out our best moves on you.” Dean rose up in slow motion to a sitting position, mansplaying into her half of the couch. He slid the fork and plate onto the nearby coffee table.

You got this. Julie was keenly aware of how her entire body thrummed to her heartbeat. And how soaked her panties were. Just talking to him and being in close proximity is wrecking me… what would happen if... She readjusted her sitting position as well, crossed her legs, and clenched her thighs together. Got me slippery enough to slide off the damn couch. “Do I have a say in the matter? What’s your brother like?”

“Oh, he’s a total nerd. Living in San Jose, trying to finally get a law degree from Stanford.”

“Lawyer material, huh?” Julie gave him an impressed nod.

“Okay, calm down.” Dean raised a hand in jest. “Like I said, he’s taken. And, you wouldn’t like him.” Dean shook his head with certainty.

Julie giggled. “You don’t know that. I consider myself somewhat of a nerd. Maybe we’re kindred spirits. What’s he look like?”

Dean sighed and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Julie marveled, realizing that neither one of them had glanced at a phone over the past hour. The television had remained off as well. His finger tapped and scrolled for some time before showing her his screen. “That’s him and his girlfriend, Eileen.”

Julie’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. Your family gene pool is quite impressive.”

“Well, thank you.” He smirked. “But, still, I think I’d have a better shot. I mean, look at his hair.”

“Very bouncy. Really cute.” She noted some slight agitation from him as she continued to stare at the picture. He pulled the phone away and slipped it back into his pocket. Pushing ALL of his buttons was turning out to be very entertaining. “My brother and his family live in San Francisco. Not too far from San Jose. Maybe I should pay him a visit the next time I find myself over there.”

“Yeah, well… he’s a bit high maintenance. Me, on the other hand… ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

“So, you’re easy going?”

His lips jutted out into an exaggerated pout. “I don’t know if I’d say ‘easy going’. Easy maybe.” He winked.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em type then?”

“Pretty much. But, there was an underlying reason. It wasn’t all about me being an ass.” He took another swig of his drink. “That’s why…” his tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth, “I really shouldn’t be here. The family business I was in for so long... It put anyone my brother and I got close to in danger. It was better to stay unattached.” He tilted the glass in her direction. “And, you haven’t lubricated me with enough liquor, or dessert, to get more info outta me on that.” The gaze dropped into his glass.

You’ve got me lubricated enough, you full time fucking flirt. Julie screwed her lips together. She took some time to gather her thoughts. “Is that what happened with Lisa? She ended up in danger?”

He clenched his jaw. That was enough of a response.

“But, your brother has a girlfriend now.”

“Yeah. Goin’ on two years.”

“Something changed then, when you moved on from the family business?”

He nodded, a grin slow to form as he looked back up. “You could say the family business went out of business. Our services weren’t needed as much.”

“So, he isn’t worried about his girlfriend’s safety? Your brother?”

“She was in the same business for a long time. Can take care of herself. I don’t think she’s a Spice Girls fan.” A wicked smirk unfurled.

Julie took silent offence at the dig. She nodded, processing the information to continue her original line of questioning. “Danger still out there?”

He shrugged and dropped the glass. “No, not really. I mean, not like it was. Every so often there’s a blip. But, I’d say it’s been the quietest I’ve known in… well, forever.”

“You are only making me more curious, you know that, right?”

Dean leaned in. One hand dragged along her dangling calf. Those rough, calloused fingers lit her up like flint against a match. Her nose scrunched as she tried to maintain some composure. The smile on his face sparked up into his eyes. Those damn crinkles multiplied. “Are you getting frustrated?”

“No.”

“Cause I’ve seen you make that face when it looks like you were frustrated.”

She sighed. “Maybe a little frustrated.”

He slid along the seat, bending his leg like snipping scissors to get closer. The oh so warm calf wedging along her thigh. An arm snaked behind her on the couch. Nostrils flared, sniffing the air like a hungry bloodhound. “I can take care of that for you, Julie.” He whispered. “All you gotta do is ask.” He teased out a smile. “Tell me what you want.” He paused. “What you really…” Another long pause. “Really.” Even longer. “Want.” The word slipped out of his mouth, slow and tasty, with a click of his teeth at the end for even more dramatic effort.

Awareness of what he had just done made her grin.

His head tilted. “I may have come across ‘Spice World’ on cable a few times while channel surfing. Being in the middle of a Baby and Ginger sandwich might be fun.” He inhaled deep again and a quick dart of his gaze fell to her lap before coming back to scan her facial features.

Shit, can he smell how wet and excited he’s making me? “What do you want?” She held his stare, desperately trying to keep some control of her faculties. Even though every cell in her body was begging to give in to the temptation that was Dean Winchester. “Are you looking for a woman that knows this mysterious family business like your brother’s girlfriend?”

The focus of his hypnotic green, glassy eyes traced over different spots on her face. She admired his ridges and furrows and planes up close. The slope of his nose was a perfect angled dream. Evidence of a hard life lived was scattered all over amid the youthful, sin-full lips and speckling of freckles. There was earned wisdom in his eyes behind the golden flecked irises. She couldn’t remember the last time she was in the presence of anyone so very handsome and beautiful. And? There was something else she’d been trying to pinpoint since she chanced on him, in the dark, that first night. The words slammed into her mind. Tragic. But, not just that. Heroic.

He remained quiet, stoic. Not answering her questions. Only wrecking her with his inspection, intent on getting her to concede. She pushed through, answering her own query. “Cause, fun little fact, I’m probably not that kind of woman. I’m guessing that woman is badass.” His fingers traced the skin by her sleeve. She was melting, drowning. And it was heaven. Ah, fuck it. “Now, if you’re looking for a one and done type situation…?”

He shook his head. “No. Not with you. I’m pretty sure I want to have you all sorts of ways. Not just one and done.”

The vocal confirmation made her lips twitch up. “Don’t tell anyone, but I kind of like your chauvinistic, caveman style.”

“Oh, I’m telling everybody.” He whispered, even closer now. Bourbon and cinnamon-apple breath danced over her lips. “But, for clarification,” the tease was still stroking her calf, “what exactly is my chauvinistic, caveman style?” He gave her a little head tilt. “You know, when I tell everybody.”

“Hm, well, you walked me home that one night.”

“That’s just looking out for your safety. I’d say that’s the opposite of caveman. Otherwise, I’d just drag you back by your hair to my lair.” He urged for more details with a roll of his fingers on her shoulder.

“But thinking I can’t look out for myself could be considered…” She slammed her mouth shut. I really don’t want to get into a debate on feminism with this man right now. His stare was far away and centered all at once. One finger stroked the upward curve of her neck, just under her earlobe. The gaze broke from her eyes, now interested in the same spot as that finger. His entire body leaned into her right side. So fucking close. “Um,” she hesitated.

“Come on. You gotta give me more than that.” His nose nuzzled into the wavy curls against her neck. He inhaled. An almost imperceptible moan emerged from his throat on the exhale.

She sighed and leaned into the enticing action. “I guess it’s not a style exactly. More like an aura?”

His posture tipped back, enough to brush his cheek along her jawline. His scruff rubbing like fine grit sandpaper. And, goddamn, his lips were so close to hers for a fraction of a second. “Aura?” The one word released in a jagged, hot breath. He dipped back toward her neck.

“You’re very… male…”

He chuckled against tender flesh. Goosebumps formed. She twitched at the almost touch. “I hope so.”

“I don’t know. You seem so… strong… capable… take charge. I think you’d make a very lucky lady feel safe. If you gave yourself the chance to try.”

And then, she felt it. The pressure of his soft, full lips rested at the base of her neck. They sizzled, lit the fuse. His hands wrapped around her in an instant. He gripped her into a bear hug of the hottest proportions. Their chests melded together, his muscles pressing into her soft curves. Firm, unmoving. Even his lips remained still. His heartbeat, however, that pulsed through her own skin.

She jolted at the sensation of his tongue teasing out from his lips, tasting her. His smile seared into her skin. Then, light kisses ran up her jaw. She tilted her head up, providing him full access to whatever the fuck he wanted. He trailed the outline of her chin with his lips. She dared open her eyes when his mouth retreated.

She had not been prepared for the look of want. His fingers tangled into her hair and clutched the back of her scalp. He moaned, low and deep, a second before his lips crushed her mouth with a coveting force and ownership. He brushed into the red and raw underside of her own lips, producing a wet, slick heat and easy undulations. The sway of his mouth back and forth, slow and prodding, opened her to him. The introduction of his probing tongue had her gasp. She felt the sound travel down his throat.

She hooked arms under his massive biceps and latched onto sharp shoulder blades, holding on for the ride. The stronghold manipulated her like a ragdoll with every kiss and suck and lick. He broke from her mouth and rested his forehead against hers. “You OK?” She smiled at how out of breath he sounded. He leaned back and inspected her face. She nodded, noting how fast her heart was beating. “Cause, I can stop… like, right now. It’s probably better if I do that. And, maybe, we try that proper date… before things get too out of hand.”

“Is that what you want to do right now?” She tried to catch her breath.

“Hell, no.” He smiled. His fingers massaged her scalp and pressed into the small of her back. “But, maybe… I should give myself the chance to try.”

She groaned. “Don’t use my own words against me.” She bit her lip, then mumbled. “You feel really good.”

“So do you, sweetheart.” He brushed his lips along her forehead. “So do you.”

She unfurled her arms from his back. “Going to be all adultish.”

“I know. Adulting sucks.” He sighed. “When do we do this date thing?”

“Soon.”

A childish grin curled up his lips. “Sweet. Well,” he licked his lips, wiping away any innocence, and peeled his body from hers, frowning as he did so. “Let me take you out to dinner one night, maybe next weekend? No food or dessert prepared by you. And, I’m not going to even think about taking you to an Italian place.”

She smiled. “Good call.”

“Steak?” His eyebrows rose.

“Sounds good.”

“Awesome.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, finishing it, then picked up his dessert plate. “I’ll make a reservation and let you know when.”

“But, you might have to cancel if work…”

He raised a finger. “Then you have permission to slap me if I stand you up again.”

She laughed, then frowned realizing his current intention. “You’re leaving?”

“Too much temptation if I stay.” He stared down at her. “I mean, all I want to do right now…” He shook his head. “Going to go put these away.” He darted to the kitchen.

She stood up and adjusted her skirt. “I was going to give you a piece of pie.”

“Ohhh, I know you were.” He called from the other room and ran some water in the sink. When he rounded the doorway, he donned a wide, toothy grin. “Save me a slice for later?”

“Let me just...” She started to walk toward him and the front door.

He raised his hands. “Nope. Nope. Safer if you stay there.” He rubbed his hands along his thighs, drawing Julie’s attention to the rather impressive bulge in his jeans. “Cause I’ll want to give you a kiss goodnight…”

“And, it won’t end there?” She strolled over.

“Really, Julie.” He backed toward the front door. “I won’t be responsible for my actions if you keep it up.”

“I’m supposed to consider that a threat?”

He laughed. “Thank you. Good night.” The door opened from behind his back and he slid out with a wave and a wink.

Julie pressed her lips together. The phantom tingle of his mouth lingered. Her tongue ran over the top lip. Bourbon puckered her taste buds. She sighed and headed to the kitchen to clean up with her half-eaten pie slice. She could feel the stupid smile settling into her face for the rest of the night. “I’m in such delicious trouble.”

Part 9

Series Page

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #spnfanficpond #dean x ofc #dean winchester fluff #spn fanfiction

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magnuslightwoodbane · 5 years

Text

hearts in hand

read on ao3

Alec Lightwood is beautiful. Alec in a fight is a spectacle. Alec in a battle frenzy, blood staining his teeth as he grins, far too wide, and his eyes focus laser sharp on his next victim?

He is glorious.

All at once, he is avenging angel and ferocious predator, and Magnus is watching his movements as though they are the brush strokes of a Renaissance painter and the air is the canvas. Usually, Alec is controlled, aware of every move he makes, like he ought to be as both a leader and a primarily ranged fighter. Magnus can’t deny that there is still control in his muscles, but it has shifted somehow, and he can see Alec relying on pure instinct in a way he doesn’t often. Alec is refined power, and as he breaks a demon’s spine with his bare hands, here he is in all his raw potential.

Neither of them had been expecting the night to end this way. Magnus had been invited to a surprise warlock conference, here in New York, which Lorenzo claimed to know nothing about – he may have actually been telling the truth, since he waved his own invitation in Magnus’s face. He had brought Alec with him, partly because he always wanted Alec by his side and partly because the invite was addressed to Magnus Bane and he had balked at that, immediately deciding to bring his husband to show the host that they were Lightwood-Bane, thank you very much.

As it turns out, it’s lucky he did, since the whole party was an elaborate trap.

It had been suspicious when the lights had switched off and the windows and doors of the hall had slammed shut, plunging the room into darkness, but there was a reason that warlocks were stereotyped as being over-dramatic. When the wave of magic rolled over the guests, not seconds after, Magnus had known they were in trouble. Instantly, he identified it as a magic limiter of a sorts – all warlocks had varying reserves of magical energy, and this spell was designed to sap a certain amount of it.

It was incredibly illegal to use, since it could kill warlocks below a certain power level, but Magnus figured the user probably didn’t care about silly things like laws or morals.

It had immediately killed a young warlock among their number that Magnus didn’t recognise, causing fury to rise in his veins, and the chaos arising distracted them all – possibly what had been intended. Fortunately, the perpetrator hadn’t counted on Alec.

“Magnus? Demons,” he’d called out, back straight and eyes sharp. The crowd responded with shock.

“How many?”

“Lots.”

Magnus looked at the panicked faces of his people, before clenching his eyes shut and focusing on himself, reaching into his magic. “I have enough reserves left to summon your weapons or to put up a shield for fifteen minutes, Alexander. Which?”

Alec doesn’t hesitate as he picks the shield. It’s one of the things Magnus loves and occasionally hates about him.

Magnus conjures up a wall of force, barely visible except for the shimmer in the air, and it only serves to make Alec more ethereal as he activates runes and pulls out a seraph dagger he’d had strapped to his calf the whole time. He stands there then, and waits, completely still with his back straight and his muscles tense.

The demons burst into the room like a flood and Alec waits, surveying the numbers, before he unleashes a massacre.

He moves with deadly grace, so much so that Magnus simply cannot keep up with all of his movements despite how intently he is watching them. He sees highlights only; Alec stabbing and slicing and killing, embracing the purpose he was quite literally made for. He drops to the floor and slides underneath a large quadrupedal demon, stabbing upwards and opening its gut as he moves, before flipping up to cut a humanoid ones’ throat. He loses the dagger by throwing it and impaling a skittering shax demon to the wall, screeching as it flies to his fate, but that only serves to make him deadlier. He whirls round, breaks two legs off of a nearby antique table and uses them to impale the heads of the two that dared get close to his makeshift weapon. He breaks the end off a curtain rod leaving it wickedly sharp; uses a corner to jump up high and thrusts it through a neck, severing the head as he spins round and lands on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce.

Blood mats his hair, drips down the sides of his face, but either Alec is too focused to notice or he simply revels in it. There is bloodlust in his eyes as he faces down the last two demons, and Magnus thinks that he can see desperate fear in the way one cowers slightly and bares its fangs. It lunges as Alec does, but Alec feints, steps to the side at the last second and leaps onto its back. He punches with a tremendous force, plunging his hand into its back audibly cracking ribs, and it thrashes and howls in pain as Alec grits his teeth and pulls. The demon collapses, Alec standing triumphantly atop it clutching the beasts’ still pulsing heart aloft in his hand. Magnus, despite the incredible sight that is a victorious Alec, shirt ripped to shreds and soaked in blood, cannot help but notice the last demon that had stayed back open its maw and extend a gruesome tongue towards him. He shouts, but there is no need, because Alec catches it in his other hand, twists, and pulls with all of his rune-enhanced strength, tearing it out whole. The demon stops in its tracks as blood pours in a torrent from its mouth, pooling on the floor as it collapses, shudders, and stills.

The air is quiet; calm once more. Alec’s shoulders heave as he breathes heavily, eyes darting around the room to check that there are no more foes to face, before he lets his muscles relax and drops his gory trophies. In Magnus’s eyes, he is a work of art, unrivalled by any master or indeed, any other Shadowhunter. Alec smiles at him, in that lopsided way he sometimes does, and Magnus lets the shield drop, the shield they’d never even needed thanks to Alec’s sheer prowess, his unbridled ferocity.

As the team of Nephilim Alec initially summoned for backup in the fight arrive to escort the gathered warlocks to safety, Magnus steps forward, irreverent about the blood and ichor sticking to his boots and the bodies strewn in his path. He grasps Alec by the shreds of the shirt still hanging off of him and kisses him. Alec’s hands rise up on instinct but Magnus doesn’t care, cannot care, about the blood smeared across his own face and neck, about the fact that they have an attempted mass murderer to catch and bring to justice, because Alec is solid beneath his palms and Alec’s tongue and lips slide hot and heavy against his own.

Alec may be a perfect soldier, an expertly crafted weapon of the angels, but in this regard he is Magnus’ and they will worship each other over any god.

#malec #fic #warning for canon-typical violence #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #my writing #mine #shfanficnexus

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

a kingdom divided [part twenty five: crossfire]

Part Twenty Four here if you want to catch up.

This chapter is shorter than the rest, but I think I’ve written all I need to for this part. I’ve taken a slightly different approach for the POVs (you’ll see what I mean).

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @notoriouscs @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @iplaydrake @be-still-my-aching-heart @carabeth

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Camille woke up to the morning sun filtering in through the white curtains. Rolling over, she found herself looking at Drake.

He was still asleep. Camille smiled with relief. Let him sleep. She was just glad he was home safe. Her eyes explored him; the way his chest rose and fell as he breathed softly, his arms which were corded with muscle, his big hands which held onto the pillow. Camille snuggled into him, inhaling him. Was that creepy? She didn’t think so; she had nearly lost him last night.

‘You’re sniffing me again.’

Camille jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘You’re awake!’

‘Yeah, I woke up from the sound of you sniffing me,’ he mumbled. He stretched out and opened his eyes slowly. His face softened when he saw her looking at him. ‘Hey beautiful,’ he whispered.

She leaned closer and kissed him gently. ‘I’m so glad you’re home safe.’

Drake blinked. ‘Oh god. That wasn’t a nightmare, was it? Escaping the palace actually happened?’

Camille nodded. Drake sat up and ran a hand over his face. His contentment was now replaced with worry. ‘I really hoped I had dreamt it all.. fuck. Fuck.’

Camille sat up with him and took his hands. ‘Drake, it’s going to be okay.’

Drake bit his lip. ‘Camille... you saw the news with the riots. Everyone has gone crazy. Liam and Leo locked themselves in the study. I was threatened at gun point. I honestly struggle to see how it’s going to be okay.’

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

The palace was destroyed inside. Windows were smashed, curtains ripped down, blood covered the white marble. The bodies of servants and nobles were taken away in the early hours of the morning.

Liam stood in the ballroom. The large ornate chandelier had somehow been pulled down from its place and now lay in the centre of the room, shattered. The crystals had scattered across the floor and Liam saw his reflection in one of the crystal shards; he looked devastated.

Leo was slumped down on a chair with his head in his hands. He had a cut lip and bruises on his cheeks after being involved in an altercation with a servant. The servant had tried to attack him with a knife; Leo had acted on instinct and shot a bullet through the servant’s chest. The act itself had horrified Leo to his core.

Neville had been with the two brothers but they had told him to go his own way; they didn’t want him to be seen helping them. If he was, they were sure he would have been executed outside for betraying his fellow nobles. As a result, Neville had gone to fight alone.

‘Liam..’ Leo whispered. ‘What are you going to do?’

Liam slowly walked a circuit around the ballroom, taking in the broken fixtures and bloodstained walls. ‘I’m going to be the King.’

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

Maxwell had jumped on Drake when he saw him come downstairs. ‘Drake! You’re safe!’ he had screamed. Hana came running through in her pyjamas, hearing the commotion. Tears had filled her eyes and she grabbed Drake into a bear hug, holding onto him tightly.

‘I knew you would be okay!’ she said, wiping away her tears. Drake chuckled. ‘Thanks Hana. Thanks Maxwell.’

‘I think a hero’s breakfast is needed for you!’ Bertrand called out as he entered the living area. He and Drake hugged, Bertrand clapping him on the back. ‘I knew you wouldn’t leave Camille,’ he said quietly. Drake nodded, not wanting to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t made it home.

‘Morning everyone.’

They all looked up to see Camille descending the staircase wearing one of Drake’s shirts. Hana rushed forward and gave her a tight hug. Camille squeezed her back and her eyes met Drakes. She padded her way towards him and wrapped her arms around him. He placed a kiss on top of her head, relieved that this was his reality.

Bertrand turned on the news to see the updates from the palace.

‘The King has issued an order that every noble in Cordonia, along with every servant, attend the palace today at 1pm for a conference. Citizens are advised to stay at home but to watch the news channels which will be broadcasting the palace. After the uprising yesterday, the king wants to issue a statement; attending this conference is compulsory.’

The group watched with bated breath. When the newsreader began to repeat herself, Drake broke the silence. ‘To the palace today, then.’

Dread filled each of their hearts. ‘For Liam,’ Camille said after a silence. ‘We have to be there for Liam.’

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

The servants in the manor bustled around, getting themselves ready. Magda, the head maid, made sure that she had picked out her best, pressed uniform. She was a proper servant, she felt; not a traitor to the crown. Magda’s family had served past Duke and Duchesses of Valtoria for generations and she was not going to ruin that now. She really liked Drake and Camille; they were the first nobles to actually ask her to call them by their first names and they always made a point of asking how Magda’s day had been going. That, to her, was the mark of a true Duke and Duchess.

She had watched them try their hardest to be the best Duke and Duchess they could be. She knew that the title wasn’t what they wanted and that they just wanted to be a normal couple, but Magda felt that they had done well with it.

The servants in the manor were really excited for the baby. The household was small so it felt like the child would be theirs too; Magda, Sarah, Toby and Hector liked to read the baby name post its that were stuck up all over the kitchen and bet on which name would be the winner.

‘Do you think the king will heal the kingdom?’ Sarah asked quietly as she brushed her hair. Magda nodded briskly. ‘Of course he will. He is the King. He has to.’

Sarah smiled weakly. Since Liam had released her from being a spy for him, she had felt much more at peace working in Valtoria. The job paid well enough that she could send money home to her mom and still have enough left over for things like clothes and even drinks with her friends. She still idolised Camille; even more so now that she could see the Duchess.

Sarah had been disappointed when she had first arrived and found that Drake and Camille had gone to Texas, but she understood why. She didn’t blame them for wanting to leave. But they were back now, very briefly, but still; Sarah got to see the Duke and Duchess up close.

Sarah followed Magda downstairs to wait by the front door. The chauffeured cars were waiting outside for Drake and Camille. Sarah giggled when the Duke of Ramsford passed her and tilted his top hat at her in greeting. He was dressed very.. eccentrically today. He had a pocket watch for Gods sake.

The other servants lined up beside Magda and Sarah. ‘So, are we wearing our bullet proof vests?’ Toby said wryly. Magda elbowed him and Toby let out an ‘oof!’ Sarah sniggered.

They bowed their heads when Drake and Camille entered the foyer. Drake was wearing a dark grey suit and tie. Sarah blushed when she saw him; the Duke always looked handsome and rugged, even when he was in a suit.

Camille was wearing a brocade dress embroidered with gold and her hair was pulled up in her signature chignon. She placed a hand over her baby bump and the servants heard her whisper to Drake, ‘Baby Girl’s kicking again..’

‘20 euro they just call it Baby Girl,’ Toby said dryly. Magda shushed him. ‘I’ll take up that bet!’ Hector joined in. The two men shook on it and Magda groaned. ‘You both are the bane of my existence.’

‘You love us really, Mags!’ Toby grinned. He shot Sarah a wink and she blushed from the gesture.

‘Right, let’s go people!’ Hector announced. They made their way down to the car and clambered inside, following the Duke and Duchess. The cars left the manor and drove towards the palace where the bodies of their servant counterparts had been taken away just six hours earlier.

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

There was a stage set up in front of the steps to the palace. Out of respect for the dead, the Cordonian flag was at full mast and it waved gently in the breeze. The palace security team were assembled and were indicating where nobles and servants were to go.

They were split down the side; nobles on the left, servants on the right. The security team stood in the middle of them, working as a barrier.

Drake took Camille’s hand, squeezing it, and guided her to the noble side. ‘Drake, I’m nervous..’ she whispered.

‘I know, honey. Me too.’

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and Drake wished he could just take her back to Texas. He swore that once they were back in Texas, they weren’t leaving until this had died down completely.

Hana, Maxwell and Bertrand stood beside Drake. Bertrand saw Camille and gently moved so he could be beside her, so she was now in between him and her husband. ‘You’re doing really well, Camille,’ he told her quietly. Camille looked at him and smiled sadly. ‘So are you.’

The crowd quietened down when they saw the King enter the stage and face the microphone. Camera crews were stationed in front, filming his every action. Behind him, Leo stood, his back ram rod straight, looking out into the crowd.

The King cleared his throat.

‘Cordonia,’ he began.

‘In the early hours of this morning, the bodies of 30 servants were taken away to the morgue. 50 bodies of nobles followed.’

Silence.

‘I spent last night holding a gun, hiding and running through the palace. My brother did the same. I spent last night hearing servants screaming, nobles screaming. I spent last night hearing gun shots and breaking glass. For the rest of my life, I will hear those noises in my sleep.’

He looked down at the stand and then back to the crowd.

‘I am sorry. I have tried so hard to not follow in my father’s footsteps that I ended up pushing this kingdom to its breaking point. No, scratch that; my kingdom is broken. I have broken it. I placed my allies in the highest offices and gave them the most noble of titles. I left everyone else in the dust, fighting for scraps. For that, I am sorry. I am so very sorry.’

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

The servants listened in rapture, their mouths agape. The King was apologising. He was not acting like his father would have done; everyone had been expecting Liam to drag the rebels out in front of this crowd and execute them right there.

Sarah was glad that he wasn’t doing that.

They listened as the King continued.

‘Cordonia has become Hell on earth. Servants shot their colleagues. Nobles shot their friends. Nobles shot their servants. I did not want this destruction. I did not want this horror. I did not want this rampage to tear apart my kingdom. I saw a kitchen boy shoot a maid in the chest,’ he spat.

The crowd murmured in shock. Sarah let out a gasp and Toby took her hand, squeezing it gently.

‘I saw complete and utter horror last night and it will haunt me forever. Hear me now; I will fight until the end. If that end involves me losing the crown, so be it. But I refuse to sit back and watch my people be murdered again. I refuse to watch Hell be unleashed in my kingdom for the second time. Listen to me; I do not have to be absolute. At this point now, I don’t care about having full power. You could argue I have too much of it. But I want to fight for my kingdom and make sure that no citizen, be they a servant or a noble, be under threat again. You can raise up and join me, unite with me and we can restore Cordonia to its former glory. We can heal this wound and work together, as we should have been doing before. Or we can continue to rip each other to shreds until even houses are divided; brothers against brothers; generations against generations. It is your choice. I am not going to decide for you.’

The King looked back at his brother and Leo nodded, his face serious. The king turned back to the crowd. ‘For Cordonia.’

‘For Cordonia!’ someone screamed.

The King stepped back in surprise.

‘Cordonia!’

People began to cheer the King and he looked relieved; Sarah saw that a smile passed his features. What he thought had been a rebel cry had actually been a cry of support. He hadn’t been expecting anyone to agree with him, clearly.

‘Cordonia! Cordonia! Cordonia!’

Everyone was cheering. Magda and Toby joined in, waving at the King. The King nodded gracefully. ‘Thank you.’

‘Republic!’

The crowd’s cheering died down. The servants next to Sarah looked around, trying to find the rebel.

‘Republic!’

Another one.

Dread filled Sarah’s heart as the chanting for a Republic increased. ‘Toby, what’s going on?’

‘It’s okay, Sarah, just some traitors, they’ll be taken away-’

‘Republic!’

Sarah saw Camille look around, her face set with anguish. Her heart tugged for the Duchess. Camille said something to Drake, who wrapped his arm around her and was starting to lead her away. The Duke of Ramsford followed, including his brother and Hana Lee, who Sarah also idolised.

‘Republic! Republic! Republic!’

The King looked defeated now, all past relief faded. Sarah felt Toby’s arms go around her, keeping her protected. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said.

The crowd was beginning to break out of its sections. The security team in the middle were in action now, moving to keep the crowd at bay. One servant pushed a guard. ‘Stop keeping us penned in like animals!’ he shouted.

Everyone began to push against the armed guards who were trying their best to keep them contained.

‘Let us go!’

‘Republic!’

The armed guards were pushed back and some nobles broke free. ‘Republic!’ one noble screamed, his eyes wild.

Sarah could feel everyone pushing and shoving; in the middle of it all, she lost her grip on Toby’s hand and she was lost at sea. Around her, people screamed and shouted. Panicking, Sarah tried to find the exit. She was quite short; she couldn’t see above many people. Twisting and turning, she managed to get away from her spot but she couldn’t find Toby or Magda or Hector. She couldn’t find her friends.

‘Toby!’ she called out. ‘Toby!’

‘Republic! Republic!’ their cries drowned her out. She was jostled up against more people and pushed from behind. The crowd had broken out of their sections and the guards were now ordering each other to take positions.

‘Toby!’ Sarah screamed, her voice going hoarse.

She bumped into a nobleman and a guard who were fighting. ‘We want a republic!’ the nobleman shouted at the guard.

‘Fuck off to France then!’ the guard shouted back.

The nobleman suddenly pulled a gun out of his jacket and pulled the trigger. The guard jumped out of the way, leaving Sarah out in the open.

She felt pain rip through her chest, searing pain. Her vision went white and everyone around her blurred.

‘Sarah? Sarah!’

It was Toby. He had found her. Sarah let out a low moan and fell to her knees; Toby was beside her now and he scooped her up against him, his hand placed over her chest, trying to contain the blood that was now pouring out of her.

‘Oh god, oh god..’ he whispered, his face white. ‘We need an ambulance!’ he screamed.

There was now complete silence. The pushing had stopped, broken by the sound of the gun shot. The only gun that had sounded was the one that had pierced its bullet into Sarah’s chest.

‘Someone’s been shot!’ a noble shouted.

‘It’s a servant girl!’

‘Someone call a fucking ambulance!’ Toby screamed out, tears falling from his eyes. Sarah saw through her blurred vision that Magda had found them.

‘Oh god, Sarah!’ she screamed.

Sarah could hear the crowd muttering. She heard someone say that an ambulance had been called. She heard Magda cry that Sarah was only seventeen.

‘Sarah, please..’ Toby whispered, holding her close. His heart hammered against his chest, against her weakening one.

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

Drake, Camille, Bertrand, Maxwell and Hana sat on the sofa, staring at the TV. They had gotten back to Valtora quickly after the shouting had begun; Drake wasn’t taking any chances. As soon as he had heard the beginnings of a revolt, he had taken Camille’s hand and lead her away.

They watched the news which was showing the ambulance outside the palace. ‘A servant for the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria has been killed. We cannot disclose her name for legal reasons but we can reveal that she is seventeen years old and is the only victim of the sudden riot at the palace which broke out after the king’s speech. She worked for the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria. Her family has been notified.’

The group sat in silence as they watched the news story unfold. There was nothing they could say to make this right.

#drake walker #a kingdom divided #drake x mc #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #trr fanfic

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novamortem · 5 years

Photo

[ future-self event thread with mods of @arcanacouncilrp - tw: death ]

At first glance, the room is the same as it looked when he left. Clean lines, no surface too cluttered, neatly made bed. For someone as observant as Aeron, though, that isn’t enough to put him at ease. There’s a presence in the room with him when he enters. If he tries, he can catch the faintest scent of ozone lingering in the air. Perched on a curtain rod half obscured in shadow is a crow with haunted eyes. It watches Aeron carefully, distrustfully, like it knows him but does not anticipate what he will do. After several heartbeats, it opens its beak and speaks in a perfect recreation of Aeron’s voice:

“I’m here to warn you.”

he’s never been great at birds. the crow though, is the easiest. perhaps it’s something to do with being an omen of ‘death’ or… some other mystic type shit. this one though, is not a random bird. it’s ‘his’ bird. ‘his’ form. something he recognises quite intimately. but this version seems… polluted. the sleek blue black of those wings looks - greasy - dirty oil slick staining a puddle on a filthy street. like it… he… has spent his time pecking eyeballs out of corpses.

assessment: 1) it’s him. or an apparition of him. or something like that… impostor ( irony coming from someone who’s entire basis of magic was changing his appearance ). 2) there’s a flicker of doubt. he’s pretty sure this is reality. there’s no gunfire echoing in his ears, no blood that he can see. he’s not relapsing or having a flashback. 3) he doesn’t trust it. he doesn’t like it. he’s pretty close to throwing the lamp from his nightstand at it.

❝ uhuh. ❞

shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the bed, as though the - other him - is nothing more than a blip. curbing the instinct to act, to react… for now ( though the lamp is still a viable option ).

❝ very ominous. ❞

there’s a hike of brow, tongue pulling over his teeth with a click. if it is – him – then he would know that he’s not a fan of pissing about. less about pulling punches, more about getting straight to the damn point.

❝ so…? ❞

The crow watches with one beady eye as Aeron absorbs the information. The warning, as it were. If a crow can look indecisive, this one does, but eventually he spreads his wings and descends from the window, dropping neatly to the floor on human legs. It’s a quick transformation, one that speaks of mastery over his talent, though he hasn’t used that apparent skill to hide time’s ravages to his appearance. His eyes are sunken, his face gaunt. Under his ragged black great coat he wears only dark colors, though none of them are dark enough to fully conceal telltale stains splashed across them. He might as well be wearing his old uniform. His hands shake every so slightly. If not for the haunted expression in his eyes, he would be a perfect mirror reflection of Aeron. Time had clearly not been kind to this version.

“War is coming,” he says, holding Aeron’s eyes with a look that says your suspicions are true.

“Like none you’ve seen before. I’m here to warn you, because…”

He clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

“I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. I only made things worse. You deserve to know what’s coming.”

oh. so that’s why he was the one to get the death card. he might not be the traditional apparition of a reaper, but what aeron gazes upon now couldn’t be anything but… d e a t h. when the ‘other’ aeron retakes his human form, it’s a cracked reflection through that oil slick shimmer. distorted and fractured. stained and broken. he imagines that if he looks closer, he might even see hairline cracks in his counterparts skin, a porcelain vase filled with nothing more than a haunted, bloody void.

but he got what he wanted. – straight and to the point. even if it’s not what he actually ‘wanted’. the soldier who sought nothing but peace. who had seen enough bloodshed to last him more lifetimes than he’s had reincarnations. the spectre of himself delivers the one message he doesn’t want to hear – one that sends a chill down his spine, cutting at each and every nerve along the way.

❝ war is always coming. ❞

but the words sound weak, even to him. he lacks the one thing he so often relies upon in front of the others – conviction. but if this is truly him ( and his doubt in that fades with the haunt in the others eyes ), then there’s no need for the soldiers charade. it’s one thing to think of a happenstance. it’s another entirely to look upon the aftermath of something that hasn’t yet come to be.

❝ i don’t deserve anything. i think we both know that. ❞

but he’s not about to deny what’s in front of his eyes right now. while he might not deserve it, he goddamn wants to know. even if the tremor in the others hand isn’t in his right now - he can’t help but feel that… fear… a knot deep down. a lifetime of trauma unravelling.

…keep it together.

❝ okay. if you made it worse, then tell me how i can make it better. if you came to warn me… us… then there has to be the possibility to – change something. otherwise… why would you… i… we…? ❞

The reflection, if that’s what he really is, averts his eyes when Aeron speaks, instead looking off into some memory of his that renders him visibly nauseous. As if Aeron’s as-yet-untarnished situation pains him. Perhaps the pain comes from remnants of hope, or perhaps there are none at all.

“You’ve already seen lines being drawn,” he says, surety in his voice like he remembers being there in Aeron’s place.

“Salma, Daniel, Kian - you know the tension in the air. So much more waits in the wings.”

He clenches and unfurls his fists.

“Plenty of other Councilors have more fight in them than they let on… And that’s before the rest comes.”

He looks to Aeron again, his eyes half wild.

“There’s so much to magic you don’t know. We didn’t, either. It tore us apart by picking at our desires and fears. Everyone wanted more. More magic, more power. I tried… to reason with them.”

He shakes his head at his own misguided decisions.

“Interfering only made it worse. You can’t fight this war, Aeron. It’s coming no matter what you do, and it’s safer for you - for everyone you care about, and so many others besides - if you just… Don’t.”

he’d thought, at times. that he was truly ruined. by the things in his nightmares. the flickers of flashbacks in his waking moments. but he isn’t. not compared to the spectre of himself that stands before him now.

–You can’t fight this war, Aeron

it’s all he’s ever done. fight. so what does he mean… they can’t fight? or they can’t win?

❝ when were we ever – safe? ❞

there’s no turning this off. no ‘not being’ what he is.

❝ and when did we ever just – not? ❞

moments. plenty of them. when he could have walked away. turned his back on people, places, promises. could have shimmered into a crowd and never returned. be somewhere else. become someone else. but there’s nowhere you can go. and no one you can be. to escape yourself.

one hand swipes over his face. almost surprised that he can’t feel the sharpness of his own bones beneath his skin.

❝ and if we don’t fight. what then? it happens anyway? people don’t stop just because there’s no one standing in their way. you know this. i know this. you’ve seen something - you’ve done things. you made choices. and you know that i can’t choose that… i can’t just… walk away. i won’t. ❞

❝ so either - help me - make better choices. help me - understand what’s coming… or… i guess i’ll be here at some point, looking at myself. through your eyes. ❞

“I’m trying to help you.”

He sighs, all the fight in him long gone. He looks the part of a soldier but the set of his shoulders, the trembling in his fingers, all point to a man made captive.

“There is no stopping this. Everything is outside your control. The Council aren’t the only ones fighting, and when the others come… They will make you choose.”

He shudders. His voice drips with guilt.

“Join the war, even only to stop it, and you will be forced to pick a side. Some of the Councilors are still barely more than kids. Standing opposite kids in war? The only thing that makes me feel less damned is the hope that they suffered less by my hand than they would have otherwise. All in the name of power and magic beyond their wildest dreams, or some shit.”

He looks at Aeron, broken, beaten, ghostly.

“There’s nothing you can do, Aeron. Just leave while you can. Your only other option is to submit.”

there… in that moment… he truly doesn’t recognise the man in front of him

❝ it’s never been about ‘control’. it’s always been about doing the right thing. ❞

a bristle - an anger - something bubbling up inside as the spectre brings up kids at war…

…how old were they when they first were sent into battle? sixteen. younger still by almost a decade than most people in the lair. how old were the fighters they came face to face with then? the footsoldiers. the cannon fodder. no older than him. maybe younger. with as much fear and fight in them. and he had killed them. lives cut short with the bloody roar of war in his ears, the screams of the wounded and dying. the subtle silence in the aftermath. only then realising that you were still breathing - hardly believing it… the guilt, the terror, the eternal stain on a soul - no matter how old… of taking anothers life.

it’s a strike - a hand shoved into his gut, grabbing his insides and twisting cruelly to think that he’s the one who brings – d e a t h. to them. the people he might call friend. somehow, he isn’t surprised.

❝ you seem to have gotten real good at talking about what i can’t do. not what i can. so if you want to avoid this - if you want to change my future, your past. then tell me what’s coming. don’t tell me to run. don’t tell me to surrender. tell me what the fuck it is and – S T O P – ❞

❝ – with the fucking pity party. because while you might have given up on yourself - no matter what, what we have to do, what it does to us - we have never - EVER - given up on them. ❞

“What if the only right thing there is to do is go?” he asked, a sharper edge to his voice.

“I’m not saying it’s admirable, or good. I’m not saying anything I’ve done is good. But when your options are that limited? Doing nothing is better than bowing under pressure.”

He clenches his fists at his sides.

“Things not of this world are coming. I can’t tell you much more than that.”

He looks almost apologetic, like he wants to tell. Like he knows it would make all the difference, but the words won’t come.

“They know of magic you cannot fathom, and they shared that knowledge with the others - and some took the bait. Fell prey to mistakes our originals made. I didn’t want to give up on them, and truly, I never did. Maybe… Well. I have no proof things would go better for you if you did, so I won’t tell you that.”

He shakes his head again, his eyes darkening under the shadows of his memories.

“Run. Surrender. I don’t know what else there is for you to try. Seize the magic before anyone else, I suppose. Try to fight the fight all on your own. But I don’t see that as anything other than suicide.”

❝ – what if? uhuh, and ‘what if’ it’s not. ❞

he’s irritated. he’s fed up of people not pulling their goddamn weight and right now, the main culprit seems to be himself.

❝ – then what’s the point? really? why are you here? who exactly do you think you’re helping? what do you think you’re changing? because so far you’ve given me a grand total of jack-shit to go on. other than ‘run away’. which, if you are me, you know won’t happen anyway so… what. is. the. point. of. this? ❞

his tongue clicks across his teeth, he can’t even feel sorry for this supposed other version of himself. because he never has before and he doesn’t understand when the hell that might have started.

❝ – timing is impeccable by the way. you couldn’t have made it a few weeks ago? because if there are things coming. as you say. then now might be just about the perfect opportunity to sow a few seeds. plant a little doubt. start a wheel spinning in a certain direction. ❞

less convinced. if this is really a future version of himself then he doesn’t understand the aversion. even with the guilt of death on his hands ( something neither of them are unfamiliar with by this point ), then he would know the only way to plan a counterstrike is with some kind of viable intelligence and so far, there’s nothing… concrete. just vague references to horror and war… again… not unfamiliar.

❝ – if you really want things to be different. then give me – something. ❞

…or take your own advice. and run.

He's silent for several beats, the quiet stretching between them, separating them. They are not the same, that is apparent. This version of Aeron couldn't look any lonelier if he tried, though, and that's probably for the best. Wallowing is not helpful for either of them.

"There's more to magic than just our powers," he says at last.

"Magic is part of this world. Everyone should be able to access it with the right tools. But... The Council can't handle that kind of free power. Justice, Nadine, Marcella, they need to be checked with it. If you see them dabbling in old ways or dealing with creatures that promise them more, you've come upon a choice."

He shrugs one shoulder.

"Stop them. Learn the new magic for yourself. Leave. Whatever you think is best. I couldn't help myself, so... maybe you have a point. I may not be of any use to you."

With that he heads toward the door, his eyes downcast. He's broken, caved to the monster he thinks he is, or to those who attack from the outside - who's the say which is worse? At the door he stops, his voice low.

"I never tried to take charge. Never thought myself worthy of leading or organizing them or, whatever it is they wanted. I doubt you want that. I guess the only other option I see is to try to intervene in the magic yourself, before it can worm its way into their minds and poison them... But it's a tough thing, to work alone."

#AH: hello darkness my old friend #AH: event thread #i'm still reeling from this #o.o #tw: death

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