Penny!

The Phoenix and the Crow

part sixteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: netural

el's thoughts: the next part!! yayyy please let me know your favorite parts or what you are hoping to see next!!

The sick feeling in Y/N’s stomach had nothing to do with the rocking of the rowboat. She tried to breathe deeply, to focus on the lights of the Ketterdam harbor disappearing behind them and the steady splash of the oars in the water. Beside her, Kaz adjusted his mask and cloak, while Muzzen, one of the Dregs, rowed with a relentless and aggressive speed. Hellgate rested on one of Kerch’s tiny outlying islands, Terrenjel. 

Fog lay low over the water, damp, and curling. It carried the smell of tar and machinery from the shipyards on Imperjum, and something else – the sweet stink of burning bodies from the Reaper’s Barge. The place where Ketterdam disposed of the dead who couldn’t afford to be buried in the cemeteries outside the city. ‘Disgusting.’ Y/N thought, drawing her cloak tighter around her. How could these people live with themselves? Not giving the dead the respect they deserved. Then again, it was Ketterdam… How many of these people truly deserved an honoring of their name? 

Y/N shuffled away from the edge of the rowboat, accidentally brushing her arm against Kaz’s side. If her being this close to him bothered him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he spoke in a quiet whisper, “We’re almost there.”

The tightness in her chest dwindled at his words. She nodded just enough for him to notice her thanks. 

~

When the boat’s hull scraped sand, two men rushed forward to haul them farther onto land. The other boats she’d seen were making ground in the same cove, being pulled ashore by more grunting men. Their features were vague through the gauze of her veil, but Y/N caught a glimpse of the tattoos that inked their forearms. A feral cat curled into a crown– the symbol of the Dime Lions. 

“Money?” One of them had asked as the crows clambered out of the boat. 

Kaz handed over a stack of kruge and once it was counted, the Dime Lion waved them on.

They all followed a row of torches up an uneven path to the leeward side of the prison. Y/N had seen the prison from afar before but looking up at it now… She understood why the mention of the jail instilled such a strong fear in people. She tilted her head back to gaze at the high black towers of the fortress named Hellgate.

A door had been propped open, and another member of the opposing gang led Y/N and the others inside. They entered a dark, surprisingly clean kitchen, its walls lined with huge vats that looked better suited to laundry than cooking. A strong aroma of vinegar and sage filled her nose. ‘Like a mercher’s kitchen.’ She’d thought to herself. The Kerch believed that work was akin to prayer. Maybe the merchant wives came here to scrub the floors, walls, and windows to honor Ghezen, the god of industry and commerce. Y/N resisted the urge to gag. They could scrub all they liked. Beneath the wholesome scent was the indelible stench of mildew, urine, and unwashed bodies. It might take a miracle from the Saints to dislodge it.

They all continued down a dark hallway, and she thought they would head up into the cells, but instead, they passed through another door and onto a high stone walkway that connected the main prison to what looked like another tower. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N whispered. Kaz didn’t answer. The wind picked up and lifted her veil and lashed at her cheeks with salt spray.

Nina let out a breathless gasp as she looked around the familiar surroundings. “I thought we were breaking him out. Brekker, you lying bastard.”

Kaz didn’t turn around to look at her, “We are breaking him out. But he was already scheduled. He survives tonight then he gets out.”

Y/N looked between the two, confused as to what was happening.

Nina gritted her teeth, “Hellshow.”

The slow cranking of metal against metal echoed in the arena over all the shouts and loud conversations from the crowds. The two grisha women walked closer to the metal cage, Nina grasped the thick bars between her hands tightly, as if willing the metal to bend at her will. They both watched as a tall man walked out from under the gate. 

“Matthias.” Nina’s voice was barely heard over the cheering around them. 

The two men in the ring stood there for a moment before the one with ‘cannibal’ written on his back lunged first. A strong punch to the Fjerdan’s jaw caused his head to snap to the side, and with no time to recover another blow was aimed at his stomach. 

After taking a few more hits, resulting in the Heartrender flinching at every grunt, the Fjerdan finally snapped. He threw a jaw-snapping punch at the smaller man, spun around, and threw his elbow back landing on the man’s collarbone. The latter fell to the floor giving Matthias an opening to continue his attack. He picked up a leg and dragged the man on his back before crushing his leg in his grasp. 

Y/N’s eyes widened at the memory and felt a sickening feeling creep up on her. Such a dishonorable way to keep your life. But then again, what choice did these people have?

The Dime Lion led them around the tunnel to the third archway, where a prison guard dressed in a blue-gray uniform was posted with a rifle slung across his back. “Four more for you.” The Dime Lion shouted over the roar of the crowd. Then he turned to Kaz. “If you need to leave, the guard will call for an escort. No one goes wandering off without a guide, understood?”

“Of course, of course. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kaz said from behind his ridiculous mask.

“Enjoy.” The Dime Lion said with an ugly grin. The prison guard waved them through.

Y/N stepped under the arch and felt as if she’d fallen into another nightmare. They were on a jutting stone ledge, looking down into a shallow, crudely made amphitheater. The tower had been gutted to create an arena. Only the black walls of the old prison remained the roof long since fallen in or destroyed so that the night sky was visible high above, with dense clouds and free of stars.

It was a different view from when she came with Nina before. Now higher in the stands, the crowd’s shouting echoed and made her ears ring. Around her, masked and veiled men and women crowded onto the terraced ledges, stamping their feet as the action proceeded below. The blazing light from the torches on the walls was hardly bright enough to make out anyone’s face even with a strained effort, but it was bright enough below them to see the red and damp sand of the floor.

Y/N swayed on her feet when she saw a man standing in the caged arena while a desert lizard crawled out from under the heavy metal trap door. Her sight blurred the moment she noticed the man pick up his knife and quicker than she could whisper a prayer the crowd’s volume got louder only this time they were booing. Y/N turned to the man standing next to her. “Why are they complaining? Isn’t this what they came here for?”

“They wanted a fight,” said Kaz. “They were expecting him to last longer.”

“This is disgusting.”

Kaz shrugged, “The only disgusting thing about it is that I didn’t think of it first.”

“These men aren’t slaves, Kaz!” Y/N spoke harshly but kept her volume down. “They’re prisoners.”

“They’re murderers and rapists.”

“And thieves and con artists. Your people.” Nina spoke up from Kaz’s other side.

“Nina, sweet, they aren’t forced to fight. They line up for the chance. They earn better food, private cells, liquor, jurda, conjugals with girls from the West Stave.”

Muzzen, the man who accompanied the crows on the heist, cracked his knuckles. “Sounds better than we got at the Slat.”

The two grisha looked around the stands at all the men and women who came here to support such a violent show, all of them exchanging bets while walking up and down the aisles. The prisoners of Hellgate might line up to fight, but Pekka Rollins made the real money. At least he used to. News got out shortly after Pekka was thrown into the high-security prison where he was brutally beaten to death by a few of the other prisoners.

“Helvar doesn’t…” Y/N couldn’t get her eyes to focus on anything as she spoke and pulled herself out of her own thoughts. “Helvar doesn’t fight in the arena, does he? You bought his name off the list, didn’t you?”

A grim look passed over Kaz’s eyes as he looked down at the inferni. “We aren’t here for the ambience.”

“Are you aware that I could waggle my fingers and make you wet your trousers?” Nina was beyond furious at this point. Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Easy, heartrender. I like these trousers. And if you start messing with my vital organs, Matthias Helvar will never see sunshine again.”

Once the stomach-churning sound of the heavy metal gate being cranked open was heard the crowds went wild. Y/N looked over to see Nina staring down into the arena with a pale face. She had turned to look down and felt her heart drop to her stomach at the sight before her.

Matthias emerged from the mouth of the cave while the unmistakable growls of wolves could be heard from the other side. 

The Fjerdan had to fight his most sacred animal.

i see u like Lupin iii 👁👁 any errant thoughts you have stored up to share perhaps???

I absolutely DO have thoughts about L/upin!! This is going to be reeeeally long

Anyone who has watched the anime, particularly part 2, knows there are just endless instances of L/upin and other characters sneezing out of the blue or being cold etc (anyone curious can look at this megalist I posted to the forum after rewatching almost all Lupin content out there lol).

Before I go into each character, should just mention that I assume that the 4 L/upin gang members are just fucking each other interchangeably, with the exception of F/ujiko and J/igen

L/upin

I looove the thought of L/upin being sensitive to just about anything. He is absolutely just one of those people for whom it is normal to sneeze 50 times in a day for seemingly no reason. I don’t see him necessarily being allergic to anything, but he will sneeze at strong perfumes, spices, flowers, dust etc. He won’t pay his sneezes much mind and will do very little to hold them back – even on a heist unless absolutely necessary.

When he has a cold (which he is prone to after getting wet, a frequent occurence), he sneezes enough to both impress and worry the rest of his gang.

He doesn’t care to cover and will sneeze openly until he is made to cover by one of his exasperated companions – most often F/ujiko. And of course he would do anything for her!

His sneezes can become harsh and loud if he is really irritated but in general they are quite gentle and fittish, and can be pretty wet. Depending on his mood at the time – because L/upin is a moody motherfucker – he either absolutely relishes the sensation or curses at the annoyance.

J/igen

Now J/igen….there’s that one OVA where he has pollen allergies to a very specific flower, but outside of that, again, I don’t really see him with allergies. He sneezes an average amount. His sneezes are relatively loud and one or two tend to do the job for him.

He has a surprisingly good immune system for someone who has the same shitty and unstable lifestyle as L/upin and often ends up having to look after him. He likes to sulk and be alone when he is sick.

He doesn’t cover but will actually turn away from people – more than he can say about L/upin, who basically uses him like a human tissue at times. Will blush if anyone draws attention to his sneezes or heaven forbid, offers him tissues (this is normally F/ujiko).

I love the idea of J/igen having the fetish more than any other gang member – I started writing something aaaages ago I should get back to about J/igen being shocked by how openly L/upin would sneeze at or on him, but liking it so much he just never brought it up lol

If J/igen was open about his fetish to L/upin, L/upin would happily indulge him – perhaps winding J/igen up to the point that the gunman wishes he never told him about it because shit, now he has to hide his massive erection in public after L/upin made a point of trying to find out which cologne makes him sneeze the most

G/oemon

Ok, G/oemon…..I looove G/oemon, he’s so stubborn and cute! I like to think although he tries to be a composed and respectable samurai, he has absolutely ZERO control over his expression or buildup when he needs to sneeze. One second, he’s stony faced and cool, the next his aristocratic features have totally crumpled into the most desperate pre-sneeze expression you have ever seen – and the tickle is too strong for him to even attempt to mask it.

When he does sneeze, it’s intensely desperate to the ears and can be quite messy. He tends to sneeze either one huge sneeze or a smaller fit of big, but not quite as big, rapid fire sneezes.

He’s almost as bad as L/upin for not covering, but more than him not even bothering, he genuinely loses all ability to control himself once the urge takes hold. The sneeze is HAPPENING and he can do nothing about it lmao. This can be embarrassing for him depending on company – he goes bright red if this happens around an attractive woman

He rarely gets sick, but if he does he will absolutely sulk alone like J/igen. Is a very attentive caretaker when his companions are sick, though they wish he would cool it with the nasty home remedies.

If he is aware of J/igen’s fetish he would very unsubtly look over at him once he has finished sneezing to see if the other man had been watching. If he noticed J/igen blushing, he would probably blush too but feel very pleased with himself

F/ujiko

F/ujiko, my love. She doesn’t sneeze often but when she does, it tends to take a lot out of her. Her sneezes aren’t big or particularly messy, but they are intense and so very desperate. Tends to sneeze in triples, extremely girly and sometimes featuring a little gasping buildup. They toss her head forward and send shivers through her. Quite an ordeal and she’s thankful it isn’t something she to put up with regularly.

She has cat allergies. This is why she absolutely prefers dogs and will often refer to cats as nasty creatures. They’re cute and all, but they make her eyes and nose tickle unbearably.

She likes to play up her sneezes so that men will fawn over her – either men she is manipulating for a heist, or her companions. This works like a charm on both L/upin and G/oemon, but irritates the fuck out of J/igen, who is pretty much exasperated when any man fumbles over any woman. If F/ujiko knows about his fetish, she will smugly notice that despite his grumbling that she can’t fool him by playing up her suffering, he stiffens all the same at every feminine sneeze.

When she catches a cold, she is extremely clingy. She will drop in on L/upin unannounced, miserably congested, and cuddle up to him telling him how awful she feels. Naturally, L/upin is over the moon to have his F/ujiko close and seeking his attention, so he will immediately fawn over her, inevitably getting sick himself. She will sometimes return the favour of caretaking, but not often. J/igen will always be there to fuss over L/upin, anyway.

Z/enigata

So for Z/enigata, I don’t have too many takes because I can't really perceive him in a fetishy manner haha – but one thing for sure is that he has obnoxiously loud dad sneezes, will mean to cover but often doesn’t get the chance to, and this will sometimes result in quite a mess.

His immune system is RUINED after all the years of stress chasing L/upin, so he is very prone to colds. Very sneezy headcolds that have him unbelievably congested, snuffling into tissues or a handkerchief all day. Every now and then L/upin will take pity on him and if Z/enigata is on his trail but doesn’t quite know where L/upin is, L/upin will leave cold medicine and tissues outside his hotel room – or sometimes in disguise as a hotel employee, bring them to him directly.

That’s all I have for right now but I definitely need to write some solid fics for this lot because I just LOVE them

CONGRATS ON 2.5k!!!!!! so so deserved!! also i don’t think i ever told u this but you were my first ever mutual on here and i just 💞💕💞💕 if it’s still open can i request bakugou + exes to lovers?

HOORAY FOR 2.5K --- AU/TROPE FICLETS: bakugou x exes to lovers.

notes: things we already knew about me: i overwrite. WOW! this got so long, but i had so much freaking fun with it, i can’t even tell you. it’s my first time writing bakugou and i hope i did him justice, especially with this trope that i love. thank you so so much for the support and love victoria - it’s an honor to have been your first mutual!!!! i hope you enjoy this~

summary: it was an odd match from the start, you and katsuki --- at least that’s what you tell him when you walk away after a year and a half. as you leave, you remind yourself of the probability your quirk had read the night of your first date - 73% chance of breaking up. not certain, sure, but high enough to help you through missing him: this was always going to happen. you tell yourself the same thing a year later when he becomes your protection detail at a support item expo that’s received a major threat: being in the same industry, you were always going to cross paths.

but, over the course of your week together, you start to realize that not everything has a rational explanation, a logical way in or out. not Katsuki, and certainly not the way he makes you feel.

quirk details: reader has a quirk that grants insight into the probability of an outcome occurring. ultimately, she can analyze a situation and determine within seconds how likely a specific outcome is if she was to move forward with all variables unchanged. she uses it primarily to design her support items, but can also use it in personal situations too. notably, she used it to work out how likely it was that she and bakugou were going to break up in a misguided attempt to deal with her feelings.

key limitations: scenarios have to be simple for her quirk to work - she can only determine if something will or won’t happen, not what will happen. the information she has will impact the accuracy of her prediction; this means that using it for personal situations - which often rely on the complicated emotions of other people - can be tricky. but, being emotional too, she doesn’t always remember that….

Snippet (2.7k, slight nsfw at the end):

Your flight ends too quickly for your liking, the walk to the arrivals gate even more so. Katsuki is waiting for you under a Starbucks sign as planned with arms folded over his chest while a second hero - a newcomer to the rankings - makes small talk beside him. 

As you move in their direction, time follows in slow motion, each step rigid as you’re reminded of the day you’d walked the other way and out of his life. You’d been strong willed then and hadn’t turned once to see the look in his eyes as you went. But now, you can’t look anywhere but him, not even when the other hero notices you and waves for your attention.

He hasn’t changed much in the year apart. There’s a littering of scars that you’d noticed on the news and are seeing for the first time in person; but otherwise, Katsuki is the same man you’d always known, imposing but in a way that’s nearly comforting after his years in the public eye.

He seems to be watching you right back, but where your gaze is full of scrutiny, his is practically empty. Looking right through you as you draw near, which doesn’t change even when you still in front of them.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giving an awkward half-bow that you hope neither of them read too much into. The person beside Katsuki - hero name Phantom - introduces themselves right back, their bow deeper before they return to their rambling. They’re too caught up to note the way you and Katsuki don’t share names with each other and, with the moment lost, have gone to avoiding each other’s eyes altogether.  

The tension lasts until the other support item maker - a man you recognize from the flight - emerges from baggage claim. The sight of him shifts the tides and you all start to gather your things for the hotel. Katsuki still hasn’t said a word to you, though if the others have noticed, it doesn’t show. You, of course, have and even as you trail behind him and Phantom to make small talk with the other designer, your eyes linger over his broad back.

Somehow, you’d expected more...anger when he saw you next. 

Of course, this calm is pleasant, especially when you’re in public. But, there’s something about it that’s disappointing as well. Leaves you with an emptiness in your gut that you push past with animated conversation with your new companion.

[ … ] 

“Who was she?” Your eyes screw shut before the words even make it out. How embarrassing --- all that talk to yourself about letting it go and you fold not even three steps into your shared suite. It’s none of your business who she is -- it’s none of your business what he does. But, your heart twists every time you think about the two of them in the back of the welcoming party. You’ve never seen him like that - at least not from an outsider’s lens - leaning into another person so closely and the curiosity comes tumbling out of you before you can stop it.

Katsuki is silent for a long while; long enough that you almost think he hadn’t heard you. But, the stiffness in his shoulders tells you aren’t so lucky and after a moment of you watching him untie his shoes, he finally turns to look at you. The glance is brief, but poignant, before his focus returns to himself --- this time, his tie. “I don’t think you’re in any place to be asking me that,” he grunts, tugging at the fabric until it loosens.

Embarrassment sears your throat, a sting you feel behind the eyes as you turn them towards the floor. It’s bad enough that you’d given into the urge to ask, but Katsuki being so straightforward is mortifying. He’s right, of course, but what makes it worse is that he’s not even trying to belittle you with that answer. He means it as simply and plainly as he’s said it: you’re in no position to ask him to tell you something like that.

Self-indulgence from you is rare and you find it’s for this very reason. When you step out of the safety of your logic, your equations, your reasoning, you always manage to trip yourself up. Even now, you want to push, misplaced jealousy gnashing its teeth at the back of your mind. But, his response has sobered you  and you lock it and your curiosity up tight with a stiff apology and a goodnight.

Katsuki doesn’t look up again until your door closes behind you.

[ … ] 

When the chaos has gone, and dust settled, a gang of thirty-something villains is in handcuffs and you’re banged up; ankle throbbing, but very much alive. You haven’t seen Katsuki since he’d stashed you away with the others with a promise to come back, but you’ve heard enough steady explosions to think he must be okay. 

Still, you want proof. When the panic room door opens with a creak, his face isn’t the first you see, but it’s all you’re thinking about. Him, and getting back to him. You want to say it’s the last of your adrenaline, but even you know better. Know adrenaline from longing well, even with your limited experience and you let yourself admit something you’ve hidden for twelve months.

You miss him. 

And even with the lengthy process that usually follows a villain attack, this will likely be the last full day you’ll have with him for the rest of your life.

The realization makes the panic room shrink to a quarter of the size, pain punching air out of your lungs so fast your vision swims. You need to go, you tell yourself, Katsuki’s promise lost in the static of your upset -- you can’t be here right now.

Your ankle smarts when you start putting real pressure on it, but the pain isn’t enough to stop you from pushing to the front of the line to leave.  With each step past someone else, you hear sneers and you think you apologize, but when you’re so cotton-mouthed, you can’t really be sure.

Either way, it doesn’t slow you. The madness makes it easy to peel away from the crowd and though it takes you some time, you don’t stop until you’ve made it outside where you can breathe. For everything that’s happened in the last forty-five minutes, the island’s relatively unaffected, air as cool and breezy as every other night that week. The only real sign of the attack where you are are sirens and voices rising from the other side of the expo center - where you imagine Katsuki to be. 

The thought - that he’s so close - should be comforting, but your despair does good work to keep it bittersweet; to remind you that it won’t be for much longer. It has to be selfish to be so upset when this had all been your choice to begin with; but for the first time since the breakup, you don’t try to explain away what you’re feeling. To dissect and rationalize so you can avoid it altogether. 

For the first time since the breakup, you let it all in.

[ … ]

It takes Katsuki fifteen minutes to find you. Each one finds him more agitated than the last as he works himself up, searching every space by the now empty panic room to figure out where you’d gone. 

At first, he’d assumed the best - that you’d been ushered with the rest of the group to the lobby waiting with police and paramedics. But, a quick skim of the crowd came up empty for your familiar face and panic set in not long after. 

An admittedly tense conversation with the officer that had unsealed the room revealed that one civilian - a woman with a noticeable limp - had broken away from the group just as the doors opened. It’d done well to calm him, knowing someone had seen you after the fighting was over, but he’s hardly settled, if the way he stomps through the floor is anything to go by. “She never fucking listens,” he growls to no one in particular, eyes narrowed in razor sharp focus. 

He’s worked up, above all, by his worry. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t vaguely wounded by the fact you hadn’t let him come back like promised. It draws him back, despite his best efforts, to the day you left --- the day you told him in no uncertain terms that you’d always expected one of you to leave, what with that know-it-all quirk of yours.

He’d felt then as he does now: utterly untrusted. Like he’s behind without even knowing there’s a race --- like he’s lost without any hope to catch up. He doesn’t like it, feeling that way again, and it gets him so unnerved that he starts to revert to old habits. Shoulders bowed, hands stuffed into his pockets, and, notably, taking a foot to every door that could stand between him and wherever the hell you’ve disappeared to. 

When he finds you, finally, behind the fourth, it’s with a kick so firm it turns your sob into a strangled squeak. 

[ ... ] 

“I thought I told you to stay put---” There’s venom in Katsuki’s voice, but a sort you know well. Worried more than enraged, even if his expressive face doesn’t show it. You move to answer, but he steps in before you can, eyes locked eerily on your face. “...Why the hell are you crying?” You reach up for your wet cheeks, cursing internally; you’d hoped to be well through this before you faced him again so the question catches you off guard. Long enough that Katsuki can close the distance and kneel at your feet, pulling your fingers away from your face so he can inspect it. “You gonna say something or what? Did someone hurt you?” 

You can tell he’s biting his tongue, tempering his rage until he’s sure there’s something to rage about. But even that muted anger can be dangerous and you’re quick to shake your head, hands coming up again to wipe your face. “No! No, it’s...just my ankle. From before, when we were running.”

Relief spreads in Katsuki’s face hearing that, like he’s grateful that that’s all it is. But, his frown stays put, deepening some when he reaches down for your ankle and watches your expression sour from the touch. “Hm. Doesn’t seem broken or anything.” He turns thoughtfully towards the building behind him, stilling at the sounds rising from the busy lobby. You try to glean purpose from his face, but have to wait until he speaks up again to work out what he’s doing. “‘S gonna take ages for them to see you right now. I can wrap your ankle up at the hotel and take you in for a check up before tomorrow’s flight.” 

You nod wordlessly, grateful for the chance to avoid anyone else for the night.

[ … ]

The quiet in your suite as Katsuki carries you in is a blessing.

You hadn’t realized how badly overwhelmed you were until you’d been alone on the balcony, so even just a few minutes going through the expo center was too much. Katsuki had picked up on it and hesitated very little in hoisting you up so you could move quickly through the crowd and rubble.

You’d insisted he didn’t need to do it at all, let alone again in the hotel; but just one glance at you down the slope of his nose had silenced you.

The first thing he does when the door shuts behind you is set you down on the couch, warning you to stay still with a look alone. When you’re settled, he disappears into his room before emerging with an impressively stocked first aid kit. And for the second time that night, he’s on his knees for you, taking your swollen ankle in hand to inspect it more closely. 

With so much happening earlier, his touch on the balcony was easy to drown out. Now, there’s nowhere to focus but him and the press from his palm as it cups your bare skin. He runs a thumb over scratches you hadn’t noticed, the way he traces the lines almost pensive, before his attention turns to the kit beside him. 

You, all the while, are stock still, frozen from the heat of his touch. It’s nothing compared to his mouth or the weight of his full body, but after so many months apart, it bowls you over all the same.

You don’t notice you’re crying again until he says something.

“You’re not crying over the ankle,” he says simply, though his touch softens just in case as he brings it into his lap with some bandage wrap.

You don’t know what it is, but something in the way he asks compels your honesty and you nod, feeling pathetic as you sniffle and look down at your hands.

“You gonna tell me what’s really going on then?”

You swallow thickly, words already threatening to bubble up like they had the night of the welcoming party. “I...I don’t think I can.” Or should, rather - you don’t need to use your quirk to know that nothing good could come out of this.

But, Katsuki is firm, shaking his head as he starts to wind the first layer of bandage carefully around your ankle. “Well, I’m sayin’ you can. So, don’t go crying by yourself for some dumb reason like that. If you don’t want to, you don’t want to. But if you do, you can.” 

He says it like it’s simple. Like it’s a given. And beside your better judgment, you lean into that open assuredness. You’d always loved it about him, after all --- the way he so firmly believes that nothing could stop him - or anyone - if he didn’t let it. For some people, it was self-importance, but nights holding him after good and bad days had taught you otherwise -- it was bravery.

Bakugou Katsuki was the bravest man you’d ever known. A blaze that shone so bright on its own that you felt out of place beside him -- like you couldn’t give him what he needed --  and decided for you both that that meant you didn’t have a chance. 

But, in the quiet of your suite, with Katsuki sitting comfortably at your feet, you decide that maybe he’s rubbed off on you some. That maybe, in your time alone, you’ve become a lot braver than you realized.

So, you suck in a deep breath, look him square in the eye, and tell him the truth.

“I miss you, Katsuki.”

[ … ]

He holds your hands to the mattress so tight they hurt, but the ache is welcome. You know him well, even now, and can read between the lines of your intertwined fingers. 

He’d missed you too.

All these days of looking through you, past you had been intentional to protect himself, but here, now, he’s completely laid bare. Mouth kiss swollen and eyes lined with tears he’ll wave off later, Katsuki is spilling out every ounce of love he’d held back the day you told him you’d always planned to leave.

You meet him halfway with an arch off the bed to chase his kisses and tell him that you love him --- and you’re sorry --- between each one.

The weight of his body is as precious as you remember and the heat of your tangled limbs lulls you into a daze that pulls your eyes shut.

Katsuki doesn’t notice at first as he’s dragging his mouth over your bare neck, but when he does, he’s quickly displeased. “Look at me,” he hisses, fingers tightening between yours. Your eyes open heavily and it takes you a moment to find his gaze in the darkness. But, once you’re back, he presses his forehead to yours and slowly, carefully presses forward until his cock’s stretched you to the hilt.

The fill feels like coming home. 

Welcome Home | Chapter Ten: Still Breathing

Finally—finally—, the day comes to rescue Sean. You honestly don’t know what to expect. Most of the others in camp aren’t much help, referring to Sean with a roll of their eyes and something along the lines of: “half a mind to let the bounty hunters keep him.”

They should be saying that about Micah, you think to yourself as you watch Charles and Arthur saddle their horses. Maybe then Dutch’ll kick him out.

Still, Sean is a bit of a wildcard to you. You won’t figure out what he’s really like until you meet him, and until then, you decide to keep an open mind. Worst case scenario? He’s Micah’s long-lost brother. Best case scenario? He’s… well. Maybe it’s best not to think about all the things he could be. Keep yourself on your toes.

You sit on a tree stump while the boys get ready. Taima is an absolute beauty of a horse, and you can tell by the way Charles dotes on her that she’s got a good life. Briefly, thoughts of having a horse of your own cross your mind. That appaloosa gelding is probably still for sale in Valentine. Maybe if you can get enough money, you can buy him.

Arthur and Charles take their sweet time packing more than enough ammo, which means you quickly get bored. Every scratchy detail on the tree stump bothers you, too. Hopping to your feet, you decide to get some chores done. Everyone’s been so preoccupied with the big upcoming rescue, they’ve neglected some of the finer details in camp.

The ax is in its usual spot, surrounded by whole logs that need to be chopped. You grab ahold of the handle. It feels lighter than it used to, and you realize you’re getting stronger.

Goodbye noodle arms, you think as you bring the ax down on to the first log. You don’t quite split it, but it’s getting closer than ever. And hello Jack Lumber.

A few chops in, you feel the muscles in the back of your neck tense. Someone’s behind you, and you’re not quite sure who. But soon enough, a low, sinister chuckle reaches your ears. Micah.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like the camp nuisance is finally doing some work.”

You slowly count to three before turning around. Micah stands by you, a little too close for your liking, and he’s got a smirk on his face that twists your gut something awful. You’ve started wearing a gun belt, and the hand that isn’t holding the ax inadvertently twitches toward your revolver.

“You know something, Y/N?” He takes a step toward you. “I think you’re starting to wear out your welcome.”

Fire ignites in your chest. No. No. Micah doesn’t get to do this, try and make you second-guess yourself and your place in the gang—especially not after you’ve just started feeling comfortable.

“Back off, you useless mineral,” you hiss.

Micah’s lips curl into a snarl as he takes another step toward you. This one feels infinitely more threatening, and you barely keep yourself from taking a step back. You’ll be damned if Micah wins this fight.

“Take another step,” you warn, “and I’ll jump rope with your intestines.”

Honestly, you don’t really expect him to feel threatened, but the odd choice in words is enough to throw him off. You can see him trying to process everything you said, which gives you enough time to throw the ax down and skedaddle.

Your heart thuds frantically in your chest as you hurry to Arthur and Charles. Micah won’t try anything if you’re with them; that much, you know for sure.

“We ready to go?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can. “If I chop one more piece of wood, I’ll have to start wearing flannel.”

Charles looks confused at “flannel,” but Arthur frowns as he glances over at the chopping block. His expression hardens when he sees Micah storming away.

“Micah giving you trouble?” He asks, a hint of something dangerous in his voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You go to lean against the hitching post, miss, and almost topple over. Face burning, you settle for folding your arms over your chest.

Arthur and Charles exchange looks.

“If he tries anything,” Charles tells you, calm and steady, “let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

We’ll take care of it. How a statement so simple and so general can sound that dangerous, you’ll never know. You wordlessly nod, not knowing how to respond.

Charles leaves, then, to go saddle Taima. You look to Arthur, ready to follow him to Florence, who’s already tacked up and ready. But he doesn’t move.

“Micah been buggin’ you a lot?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I mean, he gave me a hard time when I was cleaning up Pearson’s wagon a while ago, but Hosea scared him off.”

Arthur turns to look at you. “And today?”

“Oh.” You think back to the confrontation. “Well, he called me the ‘camp nuisance’ and said I was starting to wear out my welcome.”

A glint of fury flashes through Arthur’s eyes as he throws a glare in Micah’s general direction. You shiver involuntarily. Thank goodness you’re not on a certain cowboy’s bad side.

“I’ve been called worse, to be honest,” you say with a shrug, and smile slightly when Arthur looks at you again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

He gives you a troubled frown instead of sharing your nonchalance. Confused, you feel your smile waver a little.

“What?” You ask.

“You…” Arthur begins, trails off, then continues: “You know it ain’t true, right?”

“What isn’t?”

“The part about being a nuisance. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either.”

Something pulls at your heart, something strong, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You’ve had so many doors slammed in your face, so many people come and go, never staying, never even wanting to stay… And you couldn’t do anything but watch them leave.

“Oh,” is all you manage around a tight throat.

Arthur looks at you some more. His eyes are soft now, soft and full of what you think is understanding. He reaches out, maybe to put a hand on your shoulder, but apparently thinks better of it and instead motions for you to follow him. You trail a little behind as he walks toward Florence. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either. Did… did Arthur really mean that? Does that mean the rest of the gang, minus Micah, feels the same way? You can’t help but shake your head in wonder. You don’t think you’ll ever understand these people.

Once you catch up, Arthur easily swings himself on top of Florence, then hauls you into the saddle behind him. You’re starting to get used to horseback. Florence may be absolutely massive, but you don’t feel so unsteady anymore. In fact, you might actually like riding.

“We’re meeting up with Javier just outside of Blackwater,” Charles says as he brings Taima over. “Trelawney thinks the bounty hunters will bring Sean upriver.”

Arthur nods and sets a steady trot out of camp. “Good. We can probably cut ‘em off when they reach the border. I think there’s a canyon that’ll give us some decent cover.”

“Any luck, we’ll take them by surprise.” Charles urges Taima into a canter, which Florence matches. “How many do you think there’ll be?”

“For Sean?” Arthur laughs, and you try not to look too enamored. “Any pair of fools could handle him. But there’ll be a lot of ‘em, no doubt.”

Charles hums in thought, but doesn’t say anything else. Much of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Although you want to focus on admiring the scenery and marvel at the lack of, well, everything, you find yourself thinking about the upcoming fight. You may not know a lot about the past, but you’ve seen enough Westerns to know bounty hunters always put up a hell of a fight. That, and they always keep coming right when you think you’ve killed them all.

Your revolver suddenly feels heavy in its holster. You bite your lip, a little unsure. Yes, you’ve used it once at Six Point Cabin, and yes, you’ve managed to hit a few bottles, but those were honestly lucky shots. And neither of them were shooting back.

Bounty hunters, though? Different story. For as much bravado as you showed Dutch during his little tirade, you have to admit that you’re a little nervous. It’ll be your first real gunfight. You’ll have Arthur and Charles looking out for you, but you can’t help the anxiety knotting deep in your gut.

If I die, I die, you think. No going back now.

///

Conversation lags for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, after crossing a small river, you’re in what Arthur tells you is West Elizabeth. It looks… well, it looks like a perfect snapshot of a history textbook. Rolling hills and open land, bison… it’s absolutely stunning.

Off in the distance, you see two people looking over the edge of a cliff. You recognize Javier, but you don’t recognize the other man, with his mustache and mischievous eyes. He smiles when he sees Arthur and Charles, then peers at you curiously.

“And who might this be?” He asks as Arthur dismounts, leaving you alone atop Florence.

Your brain goes into a blue screen of death, and before you know what you’re doing, you say: “My name is an enigma and holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“That would be Y/N,” Arthur says, exasperated. He helps you down and grabs his rifle from the saddle. “Y/N, this is Josiah Trelawney.”

Trelawney bows with a flourish. “At your service, my dear.”

You instantly decide you like him. Waving hello to Javier, you approach the edge of the cliff, crouching low like everyone else.

“Sean?” Arthur asks as he looks down the scope of his rifle.

“I think he’s in that boat over there.” Javier gestures to a small vessel upriver. “Think they’re docking to take him further inland.”

Arthur turns the scope, then gives a hum of confirmation. “That’s him alright. Giving those bounty hunters hell.”

Trelawney nods and rises before mounting his horse. Setting a slow walk, he motions for everyone to follow him. Arthur helps you on to Florence, and then you’re off once more.

“If we do this right,” Trelawney says, “we can cut them off. Remember: we’re just innocent folk out for a ride on the trail. Let’s not draw their attention just yet.”

The five of you ride toward a canyon. Ahead, you can see the boat docked at the shore, along with several well-armed, intimidating bounty hunters standing guard. They don’t look like they’re in much of a mood to negotiate. In fact, they look ready to shoot on sight.

Everyone takes cover around the bend. Trelawney, odd man that he is, seems more preoccupied with his coat than the problem at hand.

“Now ain’t the time for a fashion statement,” Arthur drawls.

“Au contraire, my dear fellow,” Trelawney says with a smile. “Bounty hunters are even more gullible than hillbillies. I have to look the part if I’m going to make the proper distraction.”

Then, before any of you can say a word otherwise, Trelawney strides confidently toward the bounty hunters. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you just know he’s spinning a tale bigger than the Grizzlies. He waves his arms in a grandiose gesture. In another situation, you would have mistaken it for part of the act. But now, along with Arthur, Charles, and Javier, you recognize it for what it is: a signal.

Arthur fires a quick shot, striking one of the bounty hunters between the eyes. From there, it’s chaos. All you can hear is the sound of gunfire and shouting. You take cover behind a rock, firing your revolver without really trying to hit anything. You don’t know if any of your bullets find their marks. Honestly? Probably not.

“Let’s push up on ‘em,” Arthur commands.

You stick close by him as you make your way up the canyon. The bounty hunters have regrouped by now, which lets them put up more of a fight. A bullet whizzes by your ear—too close for you to ignore—and you yelp and duck further into cover.

Arthur quickly lays down some cover fire, then hauls you up and pulls you behind a larger rock. You don’t even have time to tell him thank you. The firefight picks up again, bullets flying, ricocheting, sometimes hitting their targets, sometimes hitting the canyon walls. It takes nearly all your self-control to keep a level head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier reloading his guns, but also just barely peeking out of cover. You look up the canyon trail. There, off in the distance, half-hidden by gun smoke and dust, you can just barely make out the silhouette of a bounty hunter—and he’s aiming right at Javier.

You steel yourself. You’re not some useless coward who needs to be protected. You’re a member of the Van Der Linde Gang—an outlaw. And one of your own is in danger.

Your anxiety flees, replaced by determination. Edging ever-so-slightly out of cover, you fire off a shot toward the bounty hunter, then duck back behind the boulder. A pained yell tells you that you hit your mark, and it’s followed by silence.

Javier looks at the fallen bounty hunter, then at you. He nods his head in thanks. Smiling, you tip your fingers in a mock-salute, then follow Arthur as he pushes further up the canyon.

It doesn’t take long for your little group to reach a clearing. Right away, you see someone dangling upside down from a tree. He’s also surrounded by vicious-looking men who you would honestly rather avoid.

Well,you think to yourself. That must be Sean.

The bounty hunters have been expecting you, and they fire several warning shots into the tree line. You duck behind the trunk of a massive pine. To your right, you see Arthur considering the situation, trying to figure out the best approach. On your left, Javier and Charles wait on a signal. You don’t know what happened to Trelawney, but you think he’s alright.

“If we can get around them,” Arthur eventually says, “we can come at them from all sides.”

Javier grins. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Charles gives him a look. “Only the fish can shoot back.”

Arthur nods, then looks back toward the clearing. “Someone’s gotta get to Sean quick as they can. I got a feeling he’s gonna be bait.”

“I’ll do it,” you tell him. “There’s enough cover behind that tree he’s tied up in. I’ll be fine.”

For a long, long moment, Arthur looks uncertain. But when you give him a pleading look, silently begging him to let you prove yourself, he sighs and folds the cards.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Wait until you got a clear opening, then go for it.”

Everyone heads off in opposite directions, leaving you to prepare yourself for the sprint of the century. One by one, the boys shoot the bounty hunters, hitting each with impeccable aim. Then, almost before you’re ready, you spy the perfect opportunity.

Making a beeline for Sean, you dive behind the tree just as the bullets start flying again. You sit there for a few seconds, catching your breath. You can’t believe you’re still alive. All that time in open space, and not a single scratch on you.

“It’s over!” You hear one of the bounty hunters shout.

He sounds dangerously close to you. Peeking around the tree, you see him standing not a foot away, pointing his rifle at Sean.

Shit.

You duck back into hiding before you’re spotted. This is exactly what you didn’twant to happen, and it happened anyway. Wracking your brain for ideas, you look around for anything that could be of use.

Think think think think think think—

There’s a corpse not too far from you, and you spy a knife on its belt. Moving purely on instinct and adrenaline, you snatch it from its sheath, turn back to the bounty hunter, and shove it through his throat right in the middle of his next sentence. He stays on his feet for maybe a second longer, then collapses.

You slowly back away from him. Dimly, you realize that the fire fight is over, that everyone else is okay, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on that. All you can do is stare at the body on the ground… the man you just killed.

“You alright there, friend?” Sean asks, still upside down.

“Uh,” your voice sounds far away to your own ears, “yeah. I’m fine.”

After that, you have maybe five seconds before your stomach lurches. Doubling over, you heave violently for a while before coughing, spitting out the taste in your mouth, and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“Hiya Sean. I’m Y/N.”

//

Accompanying Music: Still Breathing | Green Day

Ko-Fi

It’s Not That Bad

Wordcount: 2400 Ship: Mountaingshipping, Cole/Zane/Kai Warnings: Broken bones, blood, violence, injury

Summary: Zane hides an injury.

The fight can’t even be classified as a real fight, in Coles opinion. It’s a street brawl, raw knuckles and split lips- the remaining members of the SOG are brutal when they catch the scent of blood. Without leadership the gang has devolved into troublemakers and men itching for violence, and they’ve gotten bolder- the fight taking place in broad daylight near the center of town. Two weeks ago they’d taken Jay down in the middle of a scrap, a bat to the side of his temple when the group had been separated (he’d been laid up in bed in the dark for days afterwards with a concussion) and since then they’d gotten cocky about the Ninja's weakness.

Lloyd had been adamant about showing a united front- the Ninja team had to be unflappable, rigid and strong to show the growing gang that they were not so easily beaten. They couldn’t afford to give them another inch, which is why it’s so frustrating when they get separated once more. There’s a new player on the gangs side this time, a big man hefting a hammer that could hold its own against Coles. He’s not particularly fast, but the others in the group keep them occupied while the man swings his weapon with bone breaking force. His presence was not something they could ignore, splitting their attention dangerously, making their formation too easy to break.

And it’s not Jay this time, but Zane, who is pushed into a throng of enemies all looking for blood.

Cole doesn’t see what happens to get them to this point, he misses the moment Zane is surrounded, but Lloyd urges the others to make their way to him over the clash of fists. Zane’s always been capable, and today is no exception- but just like before when it had been Jay, there are too many, and it’s not long before a lucky shot sends Zane to the pavement. A sloppy leg sweep Zane wasn’t expecting, going sprawling onto his stomach. It’s simple enough to recover from just fine.

Except the big man swings his hammer before Zane can get his hands underneath him. Down down down in a deadly arc-

There’s no warning Cole can give, no speed or strength to stop it, random men pushing him away from his friend but not crowded enough where he can’t watch it happen. The head of the hammer hits the base of Zane back and the sound it makes- Cole can feel the impact in his bones, his stomach churning and nearly making him gag. The crack of the anvil on metal makes him feel ill.

Zane doesn’t yell or scream, his fingers dig into concrete so hard they leave gouges, and then he goes completely limp. He looks dead, lying facedown on the pavement. The gang members hoot and holler, their fight rejuvenated, and they jump into the fray with more vigor than before.

Slowly, the man brings his hammer up and Coles realizes he means to hit him again.  He pushes frantically through the fight, blows glancing off his shoulders as he barrels through. Nya appears at his side, hair askew, and throws waves of water that sweep several people off their feet, dumping them clear of the path. Cole slams into the big man's side before he can deliver another blow, knocking him back from Zanes still form. Before either of them can get to the downed nindroid, new adversaries file in to try and beat them back, the fight resuming- but the ninja now scrambled and panicked at the loss of one of their own, and the gang member reveling in it.

The man with the hammer, he’s got thin blonde hair and dark eyes, manages to keep up with Cole. Despite Coles obvious skill and experience, he’s making stupid rookie mistakes. Internally cursing, Cole urges himself to focus- rushing into the fray to protect Zane would mean nothing if he fell to the man's hammer too, but it’s looking increasingly grim. The man is pushing himself faster, sweat beading on his brow, and he’s strong.

A smaller man darts past the two of them in a planned maneuver. The big man steps back and Cole is thrown off kilter as his hammer swings wide, and realizes too late that the smaller man has a knife- he can’t avoid it now. He twists, steps back, tries to minimize the damage- and then the man’s legs slide out beneath him and he hits the ground hard, head bouncing off the ice-slick pavement. Zane appears at Coles side and throws ice hard, frost and big chunks of ice invigorated by the wet pavement from Nyas last attack freeze the big man's legs to the road. Cole falls into place at his side, the two fighting off a few more before the gang realizes Zanes back on his feet.

Their bravado and cockiness vanishes. One man turns and runs, and at that the gang scatters- the one who are able to, of course, and are not frozen to the sidewalk or knocked unconscious.

Cole spins around to face Zane, who’s surveying the scene silently, “Are you alright?” He asks, hovering his hands over Zane as if to feel out the injury by aura alone.

Zane’s eyes are trained on the alleyways the gang members disappeared into, mouth a thin and calculated line, “I am alright. The Sons of Garmadons strength is dwindling.”

Cole blinks, frowning. It was almost like Zane wasn’t speaking to him, but the backs of the men hiding away in the dark corners of the streets. As if he was making a point.

The cops show up and begin to load the remaining men into Police Cruisers or ambulances, depending on their state. The ninja did not always pull their punches, especially after Zane hit the ground.

Zane watches as the man with the hammer is loaded onto a police cruiser.

Lloyd motions the two of them over, the others are gathered near a throng of policemen milling about, and Cole reaches out and sets a hand of the small of Zane's back to lead him- Zanes shirt is soaked through and ice cold. The moment his fingers make contact, Zane jolts forward with the barest intake of breath between his teeth. Cole jerks his hand back, the pain flashing across Zanes face almost impossible to catch, but Cole knows his boyfriend better than anyone. A blank mask slips over Zanes face as he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the act, striding across the pavement before Cole can comment.

Cole trails after him, and now that he’s really looking he can see a dark outline of what looks like water straining the back of Zanes gi. In the heat of battle, if Zane got a particularly bad scape, he’d do some emergency first aid and patch himself up with ice like a scab. The hammer hit him hard, it must have jostled something loose- Cole tries not to worry too hard, Zane is still standing and had even fought with him. They just needed to wrap this up quick and get him home. He has half a mind to scoop the nindroid up gently and carry him back right now- but Zanes' words from earlier hang around his ears. Treating Zane like a delicate injured flower in front of any of the new SOG was bound to encourage their violence, just like in the aftermath of Jay. Like Lloyd wanted, a united and unbreakable front is what they needed to project.

Zane is hiding an injury, and for the sake of reputation, Cole has to allow it.

The police chief is standing with the others, and by the time Cole catches up Zane’s already reassuring everyone, “I am fine.” he says gently, Kais worry coming off of him in waves, “Is there anything we can help with?” He directs his next question to the police chief, clasping his hands in front of him.

Cole, along with the rest of his little family, zeroes in on the way Zanes hands are trembling.

His face is completely serene, his gi is soaked through as his ice patch job struggles to stay frozen, and he’s shaking badly enough for even Nya to notice, shooting him a concerned glance as the Police Chief thanks them. He drones on about safety measures and clean up and other things Cole wants him to shut up about so he can bundle Zane up in his arms and kiss and make it better.

Finally, once the conversation draws to a close and they can excuse themselves from the scene, they unconsciously box Zane in as they walk back to where the bounty is parked. The ramp is down and they surround him protectively as they trek up it. Zane still doesn’t hint that anything is wrong, the silence stretching over them tense as they wait for something to happen.

Nya lifts the bounty into the air, and still Zane doesn’t say anything as he pensively stares over the edge of the railing. Cole can’t stand it anymore, he turns around as the city disappears beneath the clouds, “Zane-” he starts.

“Cole.” Zane gasps, grabbing at Coles shoulders as his knees buckle, the calm mask cracking down the middle as he collapses. Like on the pavement before, Zane clenches his hands and bunches Coles gi in his fingers. Cole, startled, grabs Zanes waist- he gasps and whimpers, and cold fear snaps across Cole's mind. He’s never heard Zane make that noise before.

“Not there,” he shakes his head, Cole moves his hands up to cup under Zanes armpits, and while he doesn’t seem to be happy he doesn’t make that awful whimper again.

Jay and Kai are at his side, fluttering their hands in a panic. They want to help but Zanes reaction makes them reluctant to put their hands on him.

“How can we help? What’s hurt?” Jay asks as Cole pulls Zane closer, pressing them together to help stabilize him.

Zane doesn’t attempt to stand on his own, “Shut me down,” He pants, “It’s- the hammer. He broke my spine.”

Jay pales dramatically, weaseling between the two of them to gain access to Zanes chest compartment. He pried it open quickly, reaching it with practiced ease and resting his finger on the switch off button.

He hesitates, under normal circumstances Jay was to never use this button, “Are you sure?”

“Jay.” Zane stresses each letter, and tears spill over his eyes.

He goes limp- again- as Jay pushes the button, his forced shutdown stealing the iron grip from his hands and the tension from his body. He ragdolls in coles arms, slumping bonelessly into his chest. With no ice to keep him stable, Coles can feel the way his body- it’s… it’s not quite right, the break in his spine sending intense warning siglas to coles head where he’s laid against him. The same bone deep wrongness he’s felt once, in dance class when he was 12, and a girl landed wrong doing a complex dance move and her hand had twisted the wrong way- it’d made him sick, seeing the new bend in her wrist where there wasn’t supposed to be one. It makes him feel sick to carry Zane down to the garage when the dock at the monastery, legs trailing behind him and waist a little too loose where the rigid metal casing was snapped.

Jay's prognosis is, “It’s better than It could have been.” Which is not reassuring to Cole, but Nya seems to lose a bit of tension at.

Zane's artificial spine worked much like Cole or Kais, a bundle of ‘nerves’ and wires and other tubes strung through it to keep it safe. The blow had broken through the outer protective metal but the main cord and delicate wiring was largely unharmed. A few pinched and torn wires, mostly- Zane's ice brace kept the wound from deteriorating drastically. Jay wouldn’t comment on how much pain an injury like this would heap onto their friend, but Cole remembers the way the blood had drained from his face at Zanes confession.

“The fact that he could even move…” He mutters to Nya in awe, delicately and oh so gently maneuvering wires. Nya nodded, mute.

Once their repairs reach completion it’s nearly dark out, Jay flips the on switch back up, and they wait for Zane to turn on.

He wakes up with wet eyes, a few stray tears slipping down his face as the leftover pain signals work their way out of his system. He twists over the edge of the table, looking for relief from the hazy pain, nearly taking himself to the floor if not for Coles gentle hands steadying him.

He clutches at Cole again with a low sound of pain, and slowly his eyes clear.

Cole holds him as Zane buries his face in the soft of his gi top, hiding his eyes against Cole's collarbone. Kai moves in and starts to pet his hair soothingly, warmth spreading through his hands.

“You should have said something.” Cole murmurs, “This wasn’t a loose tube or a scrape, this isn’t something you should have powered through. You should have stayed down.” Cole doesn’t dwell on how much it must have hurt for Zane to get back on his feet, and how if he hadn’t the grunts knife would have struck home.

“I could not.” Zane breathes, pulling a way to readjust so he’s resting his cheek against Cole and his face is bare, “If the SOG knew they had hurt me-”

“We would have dealt with it just fine.” Kai says firmly, “Zane, this- you can’t hide an injury that bad. Watching you collapse, knowing how badly you were in pain…” He can’t finish his sentence, huddling closer and clutching at both his boys.

“I apologize,” Zane mutters, his eyelids flutter.

“We can discuss this tomorrow.” Cole says gently, “But I think we’re all exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

Kai looks like he wants to say something else, but Zanes dazed and sleepy expression makes the words die on his tongue. He runs a hand through his hair, and Cole watches the weight of the day fully settle on his boyfriend's shoulders, “...Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

Cole carries Zane up to bed, Kai immediately taking up a spot at their boys' side. Zane curls into the warmth of Kais embrace as Cole turns out the light and crawls in behind him. Cole cuddles into Zane, who’s already asleep again, and idly traces the near imperceptible scar on his back where the hammer had split metal.

He stares into the patch of darkness where Zanes head is, and thinks about Zane lying prone on the pavement. He pulls him closer, wraps him up in his arms and holds on tight.

He closes his eyes, and sleep doesn’t hesitate to come.

Snow Falls

Pairing: Charles x Arthur Summary:  After Charles had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow. Words:3018 Chapter 1/1

Not cannon compliant | NSF W

And the snow falls, the wind calls The year turns round again 'Til then put your trust in tomorrow my friend For yesterday's over and done

****

The cabin was the best way up a mountain, far from prying eyes. They were safe here. Arthur could rest here. Charles could almost rest too but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t spend the moments that he wasn’t caring for Arthur looking over his shoulder for bounty hunters, Pinkertons or worse, Dutch and Micah.

Arthur was awake before Charles, he had gotten out of bed and was stoking the fire. “I can do that,” Charles said huskily, still half asleep and half dressed, getting out of bed and going over to Arthur.

Arthur's frame was slimmer than it had been a few months ago, a few months ago when Arthur had been well enough to eat. At that time, Charles had been able to see Arthur's spine through his paper white skin when the older outlaw let Charles bathe him. No matter how hard Charles tried to get Arthur to eat more, he didn't. He couldn't. Some days, he had no appetite. Some days, it was all he could do to get out of bed and sit by the cabin window. His brilliant blue eyes were less blood shot now though, perhaps because the stillness of the mountains allowed him to sleep compared to their tiny but noisy room in Saint Denis. The colour had returned to his sallow cheeks and he was beginning to grow stronger day by day.

But Charles could still hear Arthur's breaths sometimes, laboured and shaky. He tried to hide how breathless he became doing simple things like even brushing the horses, tried to stifle his coughs from Charles perhaps because he was embarrassed but of course, nothing escaped Charles.

“I know,” Arthur replied, “but I want to. Maybe you can let me chop the firewood from now on - you always do it.” “Oh Arthur…” Charles started. “Don’t oh Arthur me, “ Arthur said quickly. “Charles, I know you’re just trying to help but… I’m bored! I’m so damned bored, stuck in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere like… Like Little Red Riding Hood!” Charles chuckled at this. “It ain’t funny, Charles.” Arthur said huffily, continuing to stoke the fire doggedly. “You said we’d be across the border soon and I’m... I'm feeling better. We could go soon.”

Charles sighed, he reached for Arthur’s face. Arthur let Charles stroke the soft downy hair out of his eyes and caress his cheek tenderly. “I just want to take care of you, my love. You’re… well, you’re still healing.” “I’m fine…” Arthur started but Charles brushed his thumb over Arthur’s lips in a bid to silence him. They held each other’s gaze, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Charles thart Arthur's shimmering blue eyes were more tired these days. But he was still the man Charles had fallen in love with, loved like no other. “We're lucky we've made it this far. I don't want to push the limits. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready, I promise.” Charles said gently, moving his head closer to Arthur's, “you know what the doctor said, you must rest.” “Charles-” “Arthur…”

They didn’t say it often. Arthur would flush and look away and Charles found himself getting tongue tied. So he kissed Arthur and Arthur kissed back. Arthur was always so strong but at the feel of Charles's lips to his own, he softened. He sighed into Charles’s mouth.

“You've spent your whole life taking care of other people,” Charles said to him in earnest, “let me take care of you. Just this one time.” Arthur was powerless to argue.

****

Charles chopped firewood in the morning, made sure Arthur took the medicine the doctor had prescribed for him for his pneumonia with his breakfast of eggs and potatoes. After that, Charles cleaned his guns, crafted some arrows and mended some of his clothes that seemed to miraculously sprout holes faster than he could stitch them. Arthur dozed, the medicine made him drowsy and the warmth from the fireplace only exacerbated things. Charles was glad to see Arthur resting, though. Once he was better, they would head further north into Canada and start a new life. Get some land. Maybe some animals, too. Maybe change their names. Spend every day together. Grow old together. Forget what happened out east. Love each other until they stopped drawing breath… But Arthur wasn’t well enough yet. Charles had waited this long, he could wait a while longer.

Charles’s cough started that evening after dinner. Arthur’s eyes widened, “d-did I..?” Charles shook his head and laughed softly, “it’s not contagious. I must have caught the cold, that’s all.” By the next morning, the cough had worsened and Charles's chest hurt; it felt like he was tearing through him with each swing of his axe while he chopped the firewood as usual. He fixed breakfast while Arthur slept in - he hadn’t slept well during the night, he'd woken wheezing a few times and sweating. Charles had feared it was a fever but he seemed better by the time he awoke the next day.

Charles didn’t tell Arthur that it hurt when he moved, that his head felt stuffy and the blood pounded like he’d been running. But he didn’t need to. Arthur noticed that Charles seemed groggy and tired. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.” Charles said dismissively.

But Arthur saw how he shivered as he tried to stitch the clothes he hadn’t managed to finish yesterday.

“Come to bed.” “Arthur, I’m hardly in the mood-” Charles was cut off by Arthur’s rasping laugh. “I ain’t propositioning you, Mr Smith.” Charles looked over at Arthur who was still lying down and felt his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. “It’s warm here. We can keep each other warm, pair o’ invalids together.” Arthur said, patting the bed beside him. Charles smirked. “How can I resist?”

So the pair of them spent the rest of the day in bed together, huddling under the blankets, Charles's head aching and his chest tight, dozing in each other's arms in a contended way that they’d never really been able to when they had been living a life on the run.

They spent the next few days like that until the worst of Charles's cold passed. Arthur seemed to enjoy this role reversal of taking care of Charles. He made him hot herbal tea that he said Hosea had taught him to brew. Better than that stuff you buy in the store. Whether the tea really helped or not, Charles was able to get up and back to his usual self (or near enough,) after a couple of days. But by this time, there was almost no food left in the cabin. “I’m going hunting,” Charles told Arthur that morning. “Charles… you’re not well.” Arthur said sleepily, holding his hand as he went to leave the bed to get dressed. Charles tugged away reluctantly, fingers slipping through Arthur's like water. “I’m well enough. Besides, we’ll both starve if I don’t go. I’ll be back before nightfall, I promise you.”

But he wasn’t.

The snow came down heavy and thick. Charles cursed himself for being so careless, so stupid. He’d been tracking a mountain ram, perhaps a little too far. He should have known when to give up and turn back, maybe ride into town the next day and get supplies from the general store but as much as Charles would never admit it, it was his pride that kept him out longer than he should have been. He didn’t want to return to Arthur empty handed, though he knew Arthur wouldn’t be disappointed. It was stupid, male pride. It was that pride that found him unable to get back across the mountain to the cabin, to Arthur. Taima had always been a strong horse but this had proven to be her limit. The snowstorm rolled across the hills and Charles was lucky in that he found a cave that looked like it had once been home to animals of some sort - wolves he suspected - but now seemed empty. He did his best to light a fire for them both but the wood he managed to gather in the boisterous wind was too wet and the embers soon died out.

The storm swirled and the wind howled. He was reminded of the time after the Blackwater fiasco, when the gang had been stuck in a storm at Colter. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He had shared his first kiss with Arthur not long after that, just before the gang had moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point. He remembered that night, when they’d camped under the stars in Big Valley, how Charles had felt so comfortable with Arthur in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He’d never foreseen this future for himself, falling for a man, a white man, a murderer and outlaw… but Charles knew he couldn't question the way the world turns. All he knew was that he cared for Arthur in a way that set his heart on ablaze like nothing before.

Rains Fall had looked him deeply in the eyes that night when Arthur returned to Beaver Hollow and said, “go to him.” Charles had opened his mouth to protest but Rains Fall shook his head steadfastly, He had wore a sorrowful smile but the look in his eyes was as resolute as ever. “I have lost too many people I love, Mr Smith. You have too.” He lay his hand gently on Charles’s shoulder. “Mr Morgan can be saved. He needs you more than we do, now go.”

So Charles had rode into the night, the sky had gone from deepest navy to a blanket of obsidian above him. No stars shone. Charles rode desperately to Arthur, each beat of his heart was Arthur’s name as he flattened his body to Taima’s and urged her faster and faster, please, girl. Please just this once, please.

He had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow.

As the snow came down harder and faster than ever, Charles paced the cave, flooded with images of Arthur alone in the cabin and endless “what ifs?” Eventually the night rolled in, the moon reflecting off of the snow as if it were the ocean and Charles knew he he could do nothing but wait.

Two days passed. Charles managed to start a fire and kept himself and Taima warm. It was a comfort to have her there, she'd been through a lot with him and turned out to be the most loyal of everyone in the end. On the third morning, the snow had all but stopped and it was so serene on the mountain now, as if the storm had never happened. Charles mounted up and urged Taima back to the cabin, fearing the worst with every beat of his heart.

****

It was dark by the time Charles burst through the door of the cabin, Arthur was already on his feet. Neither said anything as they embraced, Charles holding Arthur so tight to his chest, tighter than he should be he didn’t care. Needed to feel the warmth of the other man, to feel his breath on his neck as they stood like that while time seemed to stand still and all that could be heard was the crackling from the fire. He wouldn’t let Arthur go ever again.

And then they were kissing. Kissing without care nor hesitation nor complexity. Just two people so fiercely in love.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles breathed, kissing Arthur so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs. “I love you,” came Arthur’s reply, his lips soft and warm against Charles’s cold ones.

He’d missed Arthur desperately, that feeling that he might not see him again, just like the night he went to the mountain had flooded him Every doubt he’d ever had, every time he had wondered if he had made the right decision was erased.

He kissed Arthur hard, bruisingly so. Arthur sighed into the kiss, lacing his arms around Charles’s neck and pressing their bodies together.

Charles had never loved anyone like this, never felt the branches grow, felt it take root in him until it was at his very centre. All consuming. The reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he didn't just give up when things looked bleak. The reason the sunsets looked beautiful and the reason why food tasted good.

Charles didn't know which one of them had started to the bed or maybe it was both but suddenly, he was lying Arthur down and Arthur was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt.

Charles hesitated, “Arthur… Are you sure?” He asked gently.

They’d only done this a handful of times, Arthur inexperienced and shy about his body, Charles not wanting to press the issue because of Arthur’s inexperience but also because Arthur was still frail. But he’d make love to Arthur every day if he could just to see the way the older man’s eyes seemed to shine when he lay beneath Charles and how his face lost all tension when it was enraptured by bliss.

Since Arthur got sick, they hadn’t been able to be intimate. Arthur’s health was more important. And then they were moving from place to place, Charles paranoid that someone had recognised them from their bounty posters even though he would slip out at night sometimes while Arthur slept and tear them down, burning them in the fire.

This was the first time in months that they were truly alone. Arthur leaned up to kiss Charles’s lips, before pulling away, their eyes meeting in a rich gaze, “it’s ok… I want to do this.” he told him

Charles brushed Arthur’s hair from his face, the love he felt overpowering him, hands working away at Arthur’s shirt and union suit until he was bare. Charles kissed his lover’s pale, flushed skin, ran his lips tenderly over the gunshot wound at his shoulder, let his tongue flick teasingly around Arthur's nipples and softly nibble at his stomach, delighting in how Arthur quaked beneath him and gasped.

Arthur’s hands reached for Charles, too, slipping his shirt off of him, fingers working at buttons and fastenings until Charles was freed of his clothes. Arthur continued, caressing the wide expanse of Charles’s back, down his flank and kneading his ass. Charles chuckled softly. “I want you,” Arthur whispered. “You’re sure?” “Y-yeah.”

Charles rolled them both over so that Arthur was now astride him. His feet remained planted on the floor, his hips supported by the bed, Arthur straddled him. Both were panting and flushed, both achingly hard.

Arthur looked away hesitantly, arms moving up instinctively to cover himself but Charles held his wrists gently, “I want to see you, all of you.” Still not meeting Charles’s gaze, Arthur positioned himself over Charles’s length and, not able to wait any longer, after quickly slicking it with hair pomade (that tore a shiver down Charles’s spine but he managed to stop himself from bucking up into Arthur), he sunk down, swallowing Charles inch by inch.

Both of them gasped and moaned softly. Arthur’s dazzling eyes closed now as he adjusted to the length buried deep inside him to the hilt..

Arthur moved, he groaned as he did so. Charles filled him, felt so big inside. He reached down, steading himself by placing his palms on Charles's broad chest and then began to find a pace that he could enjoy. Charles watched with adoration as Arthur rode him, slow and sensual at first. He saw the flush deepening, saw his brow furrow as he found a rhythm, Charles placed his hands on Arthur’s hips to steady him Charles reached up to caress Arthur torso, his hips, the swell of his ass. The older outlaw’s weight bared down on him, engulfing him. Everything from the past few days, the past awful months felt like white noise. All Charles could focus on was his hard cock inside Arthur, his breathing, Arthur’s moans, their bodies rubbing against each other's, the feel of Arthur’s erection on his stomach as he slid in and out out of him, him becoming part of Arthur and Arthur becoming part of him.

It didn’t take long for Arthur's moans to grow louder and for him to bring himself down harder, passage squeezing Charles, making Charles growl in response. Arthur’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened, he juddered almost collapsing if Charles hadn’t been holding him. He came without touching himself the first time. Charles saw the ecstasy clouding Arthur’s vision and as he barely came down from his first orgasm, he began to chase a second, raising his hips, grinding down on Charles with a force that Charles hadn't been certain Arthur wasn't capable of. Arthur huffed and cursed, he chanted Charles's name between low, careless moans. Charles groaned, doing his best not to spill himself in Arthur just yet and fill him up as much as would love to, Arthur’s heat was hypnotising but so was the way he moved, so was the way he looked above him, fawn coloured hair framing his handsome face, biting down on his lip, unable to hide how good this made him feel, how much he loved this,

Charles’s cock wrung orgasm after orgasm out of Arthur until he was left breathless and exhausted and finally collapsed into Charles’s arms. Charles thrust up into Arthur now, shivering and chest rumbling as he came, foreheads pressed together, breath hot on his face, Arthur’s lips trailing lazy kisses over his skin until they both stilled and lay in each others arms.

They lay like that until it began to grow light again outside and Charles could hear birdsong. "I love you," Charles murmured. Arthur slipped his hand in Charles's and whispered it back before he began to snore softly.

A Blizzard That Almost Caused Vulcan Pneumonia

Ship: AOS Spirk

Rating: G

A/N: This is a fluffy little short I wrote a long time ago and decided to publish on here so here ya go and enjoy!

----------

"I had warned you previous to the storm about the upcoming weather-"

"Spock, shut up shut up shut up!"

"Dammit, Jim! There's no need to shout!" Another voice said from across the room.

"Then why are you yelling!?"

"YOU BOTH ARE ACTING LIKE DOOFUSES THAT'S WHY!"

Uhura was rolling her eyes from where she sat at the counter, Chekov sipping hot cocoa with both hands next to her, and Sulu was just hyping them up. Then there was Scotty, sneaking more whiskey into his coffee and Ms. Chapel, who was trying(and failing) to make them stop fighting.

The truth was they all came over to celebrate Jim's new apartment but instead got snowed in.

This blizzard was worse than ever, and already there was a thick layer of snow on the ground.

"Human logic is so irrational. You knew about the weather, you preceded to hold this assembly and now you're angry about it?" Spock gave Jim one of his famous 'why u so stupid' looks.

"I'm soooooRRRY that I am not a logical piece of metal and didn't plan ahead!"

"That's what normal people do."

Jim swore Spock rolled his eyes, but maybe it was a trick of the light.

"Ok, yeah," Mccoy waved his hand in between the bickering pair. "Still here, guys!"

They both looked at him, one of them glaring(the other glaring less obviously).

"Thank you." He paused, wishing he were anywhere but with these dorks. "What's the plan?"

"Oh boys, will you knock it off?" Ms. Chapel nearly shouted. Even in anger, her voice was smooth and motherly, unlike the trio.

All three men turned to her, more in surprise but were interrupted by a large banging that echoed through the whole apartment. The electricity shuttered out, as it had been for the past hour, but this time it permanently flickered off.

"What was that?" Christine looked around wearily, as everyone was searching across the room for the problem.

Scotty was the first to move, walking to the thermostat. he pressed a few buttons, and with each second he became visibly more agitated. "It's not working. We've lost our heat."

Everyone murmured quietly, and thank god the lights were out because Spock grew very pale.

-----1 hour later------------------

"Scotty, how's the heat coming?" Kirk asked from one of the couches, holding a shivering figure curled into his side.

"It's doin' somethin'" Scotty sighed as he was pulling apart the wiring of the thermostat.

Other than the engineer, the gang had migrated to the living room, sitting close together near the fireplace. They were all fine, for the most part, just wearing their coats and seemed pretty comfortable chatting. It was still cold enough to see their breath as they talked and exhaled.

Ms. Chapel and the doctor were snuggling together on the other couch, whispering about something and giggling. The trio(Uhura, Chekov, Sulu) were all close like penguins. The crackling fire was the only source of light in the whole apartment, and thankfully Jim was retro because it wasn't electric.

The bundle pressed against Jim Kirk shifted under the thick white blanket until a head surfaced. Spock's nose was bright green, the tips of his ears flushed. He was trembling violently, not used to Earth's freezing temper.

"Alright, love?" Jim chuckled, massaging his thumb against Spock's back.

He could only nod as the blonde leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Spock, you're freezing!" He gently pulled the Vulcan onto his lap, placing his hands on his hips to draw him closer. Jim had no problem with body heat.

He wasn't even wearing a coat.

Spock rested his head on the captain's shoulder, nuzzling his neck with his nose.

Jim almost hissed feeling his boyfriend's cold nose on his steaming neck, but instead placed his head on top of the little rabbit in his lap. He took a moment to admire how Spock could seem so tiny with this gigantic furry blanket.

Kirk didn't even mind that it felt like he was hugging an ice block.

They hadn't had a chance to address their dating rumors or disclose their relationship. Spock didn't want the crew to get any ideas about his 'emotional availability' as he put it.

"Vait, are you two a zing?" Chekov's voice brought him back to the dark living room.

The captain looked up to see everyone staring at them, some with wide eyes, some with 'I knew it' faces.

"That's where Spock went. I thought he was in the bathroom," Sulu said, and Uhura rolled her eyes again.

"Yes, he's been in the bathroom for 50 minutes."

"How long have you known?" Hikaru looked at her with narrowed eyes, even though he was grinning.

"3 months."

"Right," Kirk chuckled sheepishly, "We're relatively new." For two years. Better not tell them.

"Zat's vonderful!" Chekov smiled, his whole face lighting up. "I am so happy for you, keptin!"

"I canae believe it!" Scotty's head poked around the corner to the living room, vanishing again.

"Dammit, Jim!" Bones' voice came from the back of the room, even though he was smiling. "You're supposed to tell your best friend these kinds of things!"

Jim just enjoyed the way his friends reacted, smiling.

He couldn't ask for a better crew, let alone companions.

"Better?" Kirk redirected his attention back to Spock, looking down and seeing the first officer's eyes fluttering closed until he was sinking into a sound sleep. He could hear the tiniest and most adorable of snores coming from the Vulcan.

It took all of Jim's energy not to boop him.

The urge was too strong, and he pressed his nose gently against his boyfriend's. Spock 's eyes shot open and he inhaled deeply, addressing the room.

"Is there something wrong, captain?" He whispered, and everyone giggled in response.

Kirk leaned down, pressing his lips against one of the Vulcan's ears and whispered back, "I think it has to do with the fact that you are sleeping on my lap."

"Oh..." Jim took pleasure in seeing a slight blush reach Spock's cheeks. Then abruptly, the first officer grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his head, soon falling asleep against Kirk's chest once again. Now it just looked like there was a fluffy white mass in his arms, with no sign of the Vulcan other than slow breathing.

The gang ended up spending the whole night, and luckily for them, Jim had sleeping bags(because of course he did).

They all slept in the living room, after some argument about who would take the bed. Kirk and Spock cuddled up on one of the couches, Ms. Chapel and Mccoy on the other, Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Uhura in sleeping bags near the still-going fireplace. They were all asleep, leaving just the captain and the first officer.

"Do you think they mind...us...?" Spock asked after a while.

"It doesn't matter what they think," The blonde whispered back, tickled by Spock's hair against his nose. But that didn't seem to settle the Vulcan. "Why do you care what they think?"

"They are my friends, I value their opinion as much as I value yours."

"They are happy with us being happy."

Spock sighed and nuzzled against Jim, intertwining their fingers.

His voice was the last thing Kirk heard. "Goodnight, T'hy'la."

And the captain was washed away in a sleep so warm and cozy, it could have been summer.

Television Heaven // Rafe Cameron

Summary: As the each day passes, you fall for Rafe Cameron solemnly and irretrievably.

A/N: This song made me think of Rafe. Actually, I was thinking of Rafe then I started to listen to this one. Anyway, I was planning on something different but it got out of control. So it has really nothing to do with the song. Hope you enjoy anyway.

It might contain grammar and spelling mistakes cuz it's not my native language.

Every move you made, you made after long considerations, with caution. You questioned every little detail, calculating every probable outcome so strictly, sometimes you end up missing the chance to carry it into action. Just because you didn't want to find yourself in a situation that would make you embarrass and hurt yourself or just would make you feel something, you always choose the right and short way to do things. The logical one but the one no flowers grow. You held yourself back when you encountered with something so beautiful that may change your life, you just refused it, ignored it because you wouldn't know what to do with it. You ran away from anything in sight that may make you an idiot for doing it or make you weak, helpless; therefore you stayed away from anything unsolvable, complicated even. You didn't know everytime you ran away, you come closer the edge of falling apart. You've lived your life so guardedly, you've actually never lived. You come to understand that you never made any effect on your life, never pushed the buttons of the controlling panel of your life although you always tried to keep everything on your control. You didn't make things happened, things only happened to you. The day you became aware of this ugly truth, you also discovered a hole inside you. A hole which you use to suffocate any heavy, intense sensation you might feel. Now, it was the one taking control of you.

Lately, everyone around you was able to notice that something's wrong with you. Changed, you looked like you were fading away. You were disappearing more and more, the each day you realize the things you didn't do or things you wanted to say but never said. Because any time you don't say what you wanna say, you die a little. And you died very. Reminiscing the moments you stole from yourself pushed you an edge and you were standing the very edge, unsteady. One day you lose your balance, you start falling and you've been falling since.

The strong liquor on your lips never dried, you kept sipping one after another. You were never drunk on life before, you might actually get drunk at least. You were tired of filling your glass constantly, you left the glass on Camerons' table and head for the bottle.

"Are you okay?" Kiara asks hesitantly. She noticed something was off recently but she didn't think it will last this long. Normally nothing would affect you so long. But now, something in your eyes was missing and she didn't know what was it. She wanted to help you but didn't know how because you never needed any help before.

"Yeah, " you smiled to her slightly so she could see you can still do it and it was okay. The problem was your lips and your eyes didn't match. "You?"

She just nodded as an answer but the suspicions she had was still there. She didn't want you to be alone so when you refused to hang out at the beach with the rest of the gang, she came with you to the kitchen. But you knew, she wanted to be out there so you should gett her off the hook.

"Hey, " you said to draw her attention. "Let's head outside. I am bored here sitting."

"You sure?" She asked. "You wanted to come inside?"

You smiled, forcibly, lately every smile you gave was like that. "Yes. It turned out to be a bad idea. "

"Okay, " she said when she got up, you had to also. She was ready to walk away before you stopped her. "I'm going to hit the bathroom first. You go. "

She looked at you unsurely. "I'll wait."

You laughed, you were a little lightheaded from standing up swiftly but you didn't drink enough to get drunk yet. But she thought you were. You wished you were too. "I can pee just okay without you waiting, Kie. Tell them I'm coming and determined to drink whatever out there."

Eventually, she ended up leaving you and as soon as she was gone, you let yourself fall on the sofa again. You just needed few minutes before you head outside.

The Pogues have started becoming the huge part of your life not so long ago. You think the awareness hit you just after you met them because they were the most animated people you've met. They were full of spirit although some of their lives weren't always bed of roses, still they managed the find attraction and beauty in other things. You admired them before, now you envied.

The cold hit you as soon as you stepped outside but you liked feeling the breeze on your bare arms. The cold was all you feel anyway. You knew exactly where your friends at, before worrying Kiara any longer, you made your way to them before you saw of a guy that one beer bottle in his hand and the other hand in his pocket. Watching your friend from afar. You pushed the urge of considering if you should go near him or not. You were going because you didn't go so many times before.

"Hey, " you let him know of your arrival. His upper body moves to face you only to see you looking at him with your unfinished bottle on your hand. He turned back to keep watching his sister and the junk she brought along with her. He never ever liked them and he never will but he had to behave because his father told him to. Rafe could only behave himself to a certain extent. He tried to stop himself making their life like hell but failed so many times that you forgot how many times you had to stop himself from hurting your new friends. He was mad at Sarah bringing them into your lives and he was mad at you for joining in this quest and defying him about this matter. You knew Rafe felt like the Pogues were the ones blame for everything that goes wrong in his life and almost anything he does and and he has goes wrong. Yet he was almost sure they were guilty of everything that happened. He had a temper and an addiction that makes it worse. He was confused and lost in so many ways, he was all over the place. Regarding the fact he wants do right by his family, friends and by you, he always and always ends up doing the worst of there is. Rafe's choices was never right and until that moment, you couldn't picture yourself being jealous of him because still, he had a say in what he had done with his life. The kind of life you regret having maybe, however with the pills mostly, he thinks nobody has it right but him.

Rafe was angry at his father, at himself and at you. He was angry at everything. He no longer knew what has left for him anymore. He has never received anything from his father but the disappointment he caused him. The things used to be his now was taken over by others. His part of the island, his so called values, his friends even and you too. Rafe knew you for so long although you were almost distant with everybody, you shared a huge deal of time together. Mostly because you had close family relationships and Kooks hanged out together all the time until his little sister violates that rule.

"Your new friends turned you into an alcoholic, huh?"

He said coldly as possible, still bitter about you stood between him and JJ Maybank and chose him over him. Well, he didn't expect you to be on his side because you would never. You had principles or some kind of shit he lacks, however he didn't expect you to be on his side too.

"My oldest friends couldn't turn me into an crackhead, I thought I might as well try this one." You said, trying to sound as cold as him but you couldn't make it last so long. "You look like you hadn't drown yourself in snow."

He faced you. "Yet."

You smiled looking at the ground and it was a real one. Rafe was frustrated to so many and sometimes to you but you like to talk to him sometimes. All the time, probably. You didn't know exact amount because you started avoiding being around him for too long after sometime in your life. Because you felt your heart pounding in your chest in a way that so weird as he talks to you and looks at you a little too long. You couldn't take the risk of acknowledging that feeling and letting it grow.

"No lectures about how I shouldn't do it?" Rafe asked you surprisedly. Because he wouldn't hear the end of it generally.

"Would you take them seriously?" You said. Somehow, you felt like grinning like a idiot and you didn't stop yourself from doing it. You asked him, one brow lifted up, playfully. Not like the times you fake being playfull. For real.

As you talk to him, he was about to forget he was mad at you. He grinned at your way. "Nah."

And the way he smiled it was so deadly, but he felt so heavenly just like that.

"You see, I've learned my lessons." You say to him and he just shrugges.

Rafe wasn't the type to approach people with an passive aggressive attitude. He would go with full active. But tonight, what he felt the most was so sickening feeling like sorrow but not, destructive one like hatred which he usually feels most. Therefore he looked calmer outside but the war was going inside his mind and his chest. Yeah sometimes even he had one of those melancholic days.

You felt uneasy as he wasn't even looking at your way to answer. It was like you didn't get what you came here for. He just stood there, making you wondering what he was thinking of at the moment.

Your eyes caught JJ, looking worried as his eyes searched for you in the crowd then they found you. He paced towards to you, seeing Rafe, he thought you might need to be saved from him. "Hey, where've you been?" He asked you after he sent brief glares to Rafe and he recieved the same ones in return. "We were waiting for you."

Rafe felt so regarded before by everyone else, he knew you would have gone. Again.

"You coming?" JJ had to ask as you didn't say anything.

"I think I'll stay here for now. " You sounded so clear that although Rafe was surprised that you wanted to stay, he didn't think he heard you wrong.

"Are you sure?" He said and couldn't stop himself from looking at Rafe. Rafe hated that look and the way he was being protective of you like he would hurt you.

"She said she'll stay, didn't she? Beat it."

JJ turned to Rafe, his jaw clenching in anger. "I don't remember talking to you man. " He sounded hostile as possible.

As Rafe took a step towards to him, JJ was also ready to pick up another fight so he didn't hold himself back.

"Hey, hey!" You had to step in and pushed them away from each other but it was hard because they were always so willing to beat each other up.

"I'm tired of doing this again and again. " You left your hand on Rafe's chest but didn't move the one on JJ's, the one also holding the bottle. He didn't have much common sense either but still was better than Rafe. "I'm sorry to ditch you guys but I need to talk to Rafe."

JJ had seconds thoughts but he left you eventually. Rafe went back to being silent and didn't even ask you what was you wanted to talk him although he wondered.

"You had to be the alpha, didn't you?" You asked just to hear him answering.

"This is my house, I am the fucking alpha here." He spits nearly. He tried his everything to not make a scene but it was a hard battle he had fought inside. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, the way he's so annoyingly silent and the way he looks so mad but hurt at the same time was confusing you. You couldn't know you either hate him or hug him so tightly that he should never feel broken again. You knew all he did, he did it to make everyone around you to love him.

"Are you angry with me?"

"Is this what you wanted talk about?" He stares at you, answering your question bothers him so he doesn't.

"No." You said. No use of him confirming his anger, it was obvious.

"Just cut the to chase then. Your boyfriend waits for you."

You reached for the cup in his hands and it took him by surprise. "He's not my boyfriend." You said as his eyes widened by the sudden move from you, trailed your hand until you threw the cup to the ground. Then they turned to see your expression to figure out what you up to. You were a little too close.

"What are you doing?" He asked slightly angrily, slightly astonishedly. His pink, soft lips moved so beautifully, you had hard times focusing on his eyes.

"I want you to be sober for this."

You smiled as you grabbed his hand that held the cup the seconds ago. He was baffled by your soft touch, something was different about you tonight.

You pulled him with you and he didn't move at first as he tried to make sense of what you are doing. This was as strange to him as it was to you because your remember how many times you avoided being close to him. When you were talking to him casually or you were fighting with him, you felt so uncomfortable when you get too close to him. He was like this stunning and mesmerizing thing you felt his energy all over you but if you touched him or stay too close, you would get burned. How many times you wanted to hug him, hold his hand, pat his shoulders but you just didn't...

"What are you doing?" He asked, you had a loose grip on his hand and as you two moved swiftly, he was scared that it might break off. "Where are we going Y/N?"

"Be patient just for once."

And he had to be, however he never liked not knowing what's coming for him.

"Are you drunk?" Rafe said as soon as you stopped in front of him, making it to your destination. His eyes wandered around the balcony to see If there's something he sould notice but he's missing. But there were only you and him.

You rolled at your eyes the fact everyone's assuming you're drunk when you never felt so sober and wide awake before until now.

"No, Rafe. I am not." You even left your bottle at the beach.

"Why did you bring me here?"

You had to let go of his hands but your eyes never left his face. There was something with him that you could never understand before. You look at him and never want to see anything else. You could watch him for hours and days and still wouldn't want to look away. How foolish you would sound if you said these out loud.

Rafe waited for an answer but all you did was stare at him blankly.

"Why are you being weird Y/N? You high?"

You walked towards to the edge and left him behind you but turned away to see him, leaning back on the parapets. You had this idiotic smile on your face that just can't go away when you see him. You kept it hidden all this time but no longer fight the feeling.

"No. I am not drunk. I am not high. How many times I have to repeat myself?" You didn't sound sarcastic or angry, on the contrary Rafe found your tone extremely cheerful and it left more confused with the the situation.

"But you don't seem that way. " He admitted. The girl he knows was earnest, restrained and would do what what expected from her. It was annoying to him time to time because you were perfect example people-his father- gives when how he should be like. You were decent and kind, type of person who knows what to say to the people older than you. You were more relaxed and fun when you were with close friends. He liked that you could do it many ways but he always found you hard to get to. You would only let people in -or only him to the some point and would just go ice after that point. You were sharp with your words too If you wanted to and would know where to hurt when you want to hurt somebody but you only did to him once or twice. Probably they were the only times you actually went so cruel with anybody and Rafe was the only person could enrage anyone despite of how calm this person is. Rafe thought you had a side that you kept in secret and he was aware and impressed by that.

Now, you stood there, your hands on the parapets and your head tilted to your side with a small smile on the corner of your lips. You didn't look that weird but the energy you radiate was most peculiar.

He looked up and down. "You seem different."

The way he sound was like a melody. "How come?"

He only shrugged his shoulders and watched you giggle, breaking the silent night with it. You didn't know why you did it, it just got out of you.

Rafe took a step towards you, his eyes squinted with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my God, could you just stop it? I am fine Rafe. "

"Then speak. Why did you bring me here? You're acting insane as fuck." He was impatient now and you were a little upset he thinks you are insane. So being out of your character just for a night and even he thinks you're insane. Your mood was spoiled.

"You can leave If you want. I didn't bring you here to fight. "

You sounded hurt and he couldn't comprehend how did you get too sensitive. You would scream at each other and you wouldn't even fling.

"Okay," he said to ease the tension. "Just tell me why are we here."

His words didn't bring your cheerful attitude back but you still continued. "Do you remember the summer two years ago? You and Sarah stayed here when Rose and your dad went to Caribbean's along with Wheezie?"

Rafe nodded slowly, wondering about why the hell you were bringing this up. "Yeah, we threw the biggest party this island has ever seen." He said little proud with himself.

He hoped the way he chuckles would make you all giggly again but you kept a straight face.

"It had started as fancy party at first. Sarah and I really wanted it to be like Midsummers because we wanted to feel like grownups in our fancy clothes." You smiled softly with remembering all of this. "And Topper was down with the idea because he wanted attention from Sarah. We even convinced you to it."

"And I remember we end up trashing the house at the end of the night though. "

"It was a mess." you said with a small smile that was gone so quickly. You approached to him slowly, with a serious look on your face that finally resembles to your normal self. "Do you remember you put on your dad's tuxedo and it was short for you because you became a giant that year?"

Rafe nodded firmly he was nervous of your serious expression. Now, you were only a step ahead of him and you were searching for something in him that he had no idea what. "I do." He brows squinted. "I had to take it off."

" You put on your ball cap when everyone wore a bow-tie." You smiled sadly, when you remember it hurt how good he looked that night. You'd remember him like that way forever.

"You were too drunk that night. I don't think you remember and it probably didn't matter to you," you cleaned your lips with your tongue. "We were here, alone, and you told me I looked beautiful in my sundress that night."

You felt a warn sensation on your cheek and your vision got blurred before you realize you are crying. You didn't know why because you finally felt so relieved you got this out of your chest. "And I couldn't forget that moment how much I tried to. "

Tears kept falling from your eyes, not matter how hard you tried to keep them in. You were tired from deceiving yourself about Rafe and pretending like you don't feel the way you do. Keeping this hidden from him and yourself. And you hated that you're crying and being so emotional and vulnerable now.

You wiped the tears and able to stop yourself although when you finally managed to look at Rafe, your vision wasn't all clear.

He looked at you as If you are not real. When you didn't get any reaction from Rafe, you were ready to drown yourself in bottles. You couldn't believe how stupid and naive you became in a week. This was the reason you never told him. This was the situation you didn't want to put yourself in. Just like that, a tear warmed your cheek again.

Rafe reached for your cheek, cupped it in his hand hesitantly. His heart shattered when you cried. And it was because of him. His hands left you naked, staring at him and wishing you were dead.

"How can you like me?" He asked, the words didn't almost make it out of his mouth and you weren't able to see his blurry blue eyes because of your own.

You cried a little more to his words. It hurt you how he thought he was unlovable. Yes he was mean, confused and a total mess but he was so much more. Maybe he didn't knew what to say or what to do all the time, maybe everything he did was wrong but he had good intentions. He was damaged and wounded by so many places. He was chaotic, problematic and it was probably wrong to mant to like him. Yes it was hard to love him but you did love him with every inch of your body and soul. You put your hand on his cheek and his skin underneath your palm was the smoothest things you ever touched before.

"You're beautiful, Rafe." You said and you just didn't know how to explain the way you feel. It was too much, too powerful.

"No." He stepped back, shaking his head side to side. He just couldn't believe you. You... of all people, knew how bitter he is and liked him? You were amazing and breathtaking in so many ways, you could do so much more and deserve so much better. And he was wretched soul, not even his father loved him. How could you possibly do?

"Don't fuck with me, okay?" He was angry at you playing with his mind like this. You were being cruel again, hitting where it hurts. "You don't." He said it like it is impossible for someone to love him because somehow, it was for everybody around him.

"I do."

He looked at you like you committed an unspeakable crime. Like you were trying to deceive him into that he has what he always seeked for. "Don't fucking lie to me. You don't." He said and a tear fell from his eyes. "You.." he had to take a deep breath to continue. You... A creation that is above him. "You can't."

If he only knew how he made you feel. If he knew how many times you pushed back the thoughts of him when they suddenly came to you and made your days unbearable. How you convinced yourself that he doesn't mean anything to you and felt sick in your stomach when you saw him with another girl and wished it was you instead. He had a possession in your heart without his knowledge and today was the day that part declared its freedom.

"But I do, Rafe. I spent so much thinking that it's nothing, thinking it is wrong, but I just do. I don't care if it is anymore, Rafe. I always tried to do what's right, it got me nowhere. If this is wrong, then I don't wanna be right."

You brushed his hair back and he was breathing heavily in your face. "Don't push me away." You whispered. "Please."

"I might never be this brave again." You kissed him, slowly made your lips as one. His skin burned you when his lips felt like heaven. When he gently kissed you back, you felt like nothing in this world could make you feel better than this.

Although you needed him more than the air your lungs lacked, you had to pull away. Your breaths melded with each other and now you got a taste of it, you didn't want to stop. Your lips once more was intertwined with his and they danced softly on yours. As your movements became more passionate, he followed you replacing his hands on both of your cheeks and pushing himself closer to you as if that was even an option, If it were, you'd do it sooner.

You wanted more and more. The scary truth that's been invading thoughts had no chance of fighting with the desire you were burning with. Him not loving you back as you do love him would kill you tomorrow but tonight you were born again.

The chaeryeong fic was so good! definitely need a part 2. and just more stuff for chaer. seriously thank you so much for writing it and putting a smile on my face!!! :)))

I don't want to know 2; Lee Chaeryeong (ITZY)

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Summary: The plan of spending the day with your girlfriend and your girlfriend only has been thrown out the window due to false accusations. Now the plan is to mind your own businesses and make it through the day alongside Chaeryeong without being murdered via embarrassment.

Requested? ☑

"Be us against the world."

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You just wanted to do something nice for your girlfriend and you decided to include everyone else in on the receiving side of the nice thing; You made breakfast. Yet somehow the only time you decide to be a saint in this dorm? You end up being a victim of false accusations. The day had gone by quietly after the breakfast affair, much to your surprise. But that didn't mean that you had given up on holding a grudge, oh no.

"The audacity of those two fuckers..." Chaeryeong breaks out into explosive fits of laughter as you fix your hair infront of the vanity in her room. After the affair that was breakfast, everyone had ceremoniously decided to go out to visit the festival site that was going to be in full blast later tonight and enjoy themselves. While it sounded like a great opportunity to spend some bonding time with your girlfriend, the two most "Quiet" members of ITZY had yet to tease you about Yuna's bold claim. And that made you worry. It's always the quiet ones after all.

Yeji, you weren't worried too much about. The poor bashful leader had bad luck to be placed in a group of five with four others who had no shame, given the right circumstances. It was Lia that had you on the look out. The witty girl could go off at the least expected times in the least expected location, and seeing as you were all heading out in public? This was Lia's prime hunting ground, all she had to do now was wait for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

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You all head out and get to the nearby festival site within record time, excitement working wonders for your walking speeds as well as the staminas required to keep up said speed. The six of you have tried every game there is that the festival had to offer and now you're all seated on a portable table set up just outside the festival, an assortment of foods and everyone's preferred drinks all laid out infront of you.

Yeji recounts her favorite moments of her members embarrassing themselves on live, to which Ryujin and your girlfriend counter with recalling the time that the leader had done Aegyo in a Vlive. Yuna ever the trouble maker, hopping in on the "Betray Yeji" wagon by finding a video on YouTube that showed exactly how Yeji did what she did. Then the girls all ganged up Ryujin next, finding pictures of the main rapper that would be meme worthy. Both from photos that are on the internet and photos that no one but the six of you have within your phones. Before you could all move on to poke fun of Lia, Chaeryeong stands up and announces that she needs to use the restroom, tapping you on your shoulder to sign that she'd like you to come along. Due to infectious happiness going around the table, you foolishly let your guard down. Someone had found a perfrct opportunity.

Lia opens her mouth to speak.

"Please refrain from actions of public indecency while within the toilets." You freeze with your back turned to the table. You turn your head to squint your eyes at the girl and before you could voice out a retort, a pack of pocket tissues sails past your head and nails Lia square in the face. The table bursts out into laughter while your mouth hangs open, Chaeryeong takes your hand and she dashes away before Lia could toss the tissues back at her. You both laugh all the way to the public restrooms, catching your breaths before going inside because taking in gulps of public toilet air is just nasty. You head inside and gesture for your girlfriend to go ahead, you didn't really touch your drink just yet and you're not even sure there's anything in your bladder at the moment so you just stood there leaning on the sink, waiting.

You hear rushing water but don't acknowledge it's existence. You stand still and unblinking in your spot, not even realizing that you had zoned out until you felt your girlfriend hold your face in her hands. You blink out of the haze and stare into her eyes, putting your hands on her wrists and you hold on gently as if she was a work of art that you were afraid of blemishing. Chaeryong brings your forehead to hers, pulling you away from the sinks and leading you to stand. "You look like you've got a thousand different images flashing in your head. You okay?"

You take your time to observe, her eyes held so much. Curiosity, worry, wonder, and something else you're not ready to name just yet. Neither of you know how long you stood there staring into each other's eyes, ever searching yet not really knowing what it is you're looking for and in the end you settle not to answer by words, but by action instead. You smile at Chaeryeong as you caress her wrists, you slowly lean in until your lips are a hair's width apart and you stop, silently giving her the chance to pull away. She does the opposite.

Chaeryeong pulls you in, gently closing the distance. The kiss was light, soft, and patient with neither of you chasing after the other or fighting for control, it's a draw that signifies your willingness to wait and take your time for each other. Slowly, your thumbs stops their circular motion over her wrists and on their own accord, your hands move to hold the sides of her neck. You tilt your head to the side and push your lips up against hers even more, you want to feel her lips against yours even more but you don't deepen the kiss, you simply want the pressure to assure you that this is real, that you're not dreaming. You take in a sharp breath of air through your nose and you feel the vocalist do the same, you suffer the burn in your lungs and you fight against the need for oxygen. How could you find the strength to pull away from her lips when the act of kissing her feels like heaven?

In the end, Chaeryeong bails out first. The hold on your face sterns and she pulls away gasping for air, your hands scramble to find purchase on the back of her hair as you chase after her and successfully capture her lips in yours. The force behind your kiss vanishes instantly as you melt in her hands, she chuckles and this time, she makes sure that her grip on you is strong yet gentle before she pulls away. After correctly anticipating that you'll chase after her again, she traps you between her and the sink, pressing her whole body against yours with the exception of her lips, she leans her forehead against yours. She lets out a series of shushes, urging you to calm down and come back to her, she figures she has to be the responsible one in this situation lest you both commit 'Indecent' acts in a public property and give the other four crackheads outside more reason to get on your backs.

Chaeryeong thinks it's extremely lucky for you both that no one had walked in on the two of you like this. She rationally and wisely decides that it's not worth testing the limits of that luck, she slowly pulls away from you, as if you were a cat that would bolt at the slightest sign of a sudden movement. She looks you over and once she's convinced that there's not really anything to fix with your outfit, she links your arms together and heads for the exit.

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By the time the two of you get back to the table, the girls save for Yeji were waiting for you in the company car that they've apparently called back in the time you spent in the restrooms. The window at the rear door rolls down to reveal Lia's teasing face, she chucks Chaeryeong's pocket tissue at its rightful owner before resting her arms on the door and placing her chin on her hands. "Don't you clean up nicely." She smirks like a cat that caught the canary. You make a 'Shoo' gesture at her and she pulls her body back into the car. "There were a lot of people waiting to use the stalls." She rolls the window up before opening the door for you and her group member. You let Chaeryeong go in before you do, solely because you're sure you would've strangle Lia before you made it back to the dorms if you ended up seated beside her.

Yeji shuts the door for you and climbs into the passeger seat. Wondering if either of you knew that she had observed that not a single soul has gone in or out of the restroom while you guys were in there? Ever the merciful girl that she is, she decides not to mention it.

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A/N: I had fun writing this fic, both part one and part two. But if I'm asked? I definitely prefer part two over part one. If you noticed the atmosphere change between the two fics, that's because when I started working on part two, I was feeling particularly soft while playing "Brielle Von Hugel - The One That Got Away (DOJ Remix)" on repeat.

Red Boots: Part 1

Part 2

Bucky hiding out in New York, making friends even though he shouldn't. Inference of violence and past history of sexual assault.

He took a long draw of the dark liquid in the bottom of the cheap glass, relishing the burning in the back of his throat as the liquid softened the edges of his mind. How many Fridays had he done this? How many Fridays had he given up before he even started, opting to drink too much and seethe in silence as he watched her work. Watching her, he supposed New York hadn’t changed that much from when he was a young man (the first time) in this city. Even with all the technology and changes in human discourse, people still went to bars. They sought company and attention in dank holes of the city, hoping for a compliment, an exciting moment, perhaps even a kindness. And everyone was invisible, each on their own special quest, with their own unique stories; an outpouring of humanity like a complex of molecules, each individually whole yet bound together through unexplainable and tenuous connections.

She was one of those molecules, she stood behind the bar, her frayed shorts barely covering her ass and her tank top pulled too low. Her thin blond hair was stringy, a symptom of one too many bleach treatments, the tattoos scattered over her body were cheap and uncoordinated, her scuffed red boots a relic of a past life, or perhaps just a fashion statement. She was a hard worker, wearing her uniform of tight clothes and bare skin, she did her job honestly: serving drinks, cleaning toilets and deescalating egos.

“Hey babe, you look a little lost. You waiting for someone tonight?” A full bodied woman with curly red hair flying around her face approached Bucky with confidence. Her leather dress was snug on her well shaped body and she leaned into him just a little, calling upon universal ritual and the natural instincts of human bodies to find each other. Bucky felt himself lean into her even as he spoke a line of rejection and she responded with an appreciative stroke down his bicep before winking and moving on.

…

“Hey, your boyfriend is here again,” one of the managers said to Sav as he walked by with an empty keg. She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile too obviously. He was a regular, every Friday at 8:00 on the dot, he would show up and she would have his whiskey, neat, poured before he even reached the bar. He always chose one of the tables in the corner, his back always against the wall. It was almost like he was surveying the crowd. He was pretty young, maybe in his early thirties, with dark brown, almost black hair and a strong brow line. He usually wore biker gear, a leather jacket and thick boots though he didn't seem to be affiliated with any of the other bikers that frequented the bar. He never said much to her but she liked the way he looked at her. He was clearly interested in her, like many of the men who came into the bar, but he would always look her in the eyes and hold her gaze. He didn't look away quickly or fall into the age old distractions of a plunging neckline and bare legs. He simply met her gaze and held it.

She breathed her first relaxed breath of the night as she saw her replacement scoot behind the bar, tying on a waist apron and clocking in. Sav made her last round of drinks and clocked out, turning one more time for a look at her favorite regular, but he had already left. Shrugging off the disappointment, she pulled on her coat and stepped into the alley out back of the bar. It was a cool October evening and she was looking forward to the walk home, only ten blocks or so.

…

She was meticulous in her routine, always going about her work in the same way each night. Bucky thought he would go make sure Sav made it home okay tonight, so he scooted out the back entrance as she began to wipe down the counters for shift change. There was a group of motorcycle club members she had been serving for the last few hours that were particularly interested in her. This wasn’t the first time he had done this. A few other nights when there were rowdy customers, he had watched from a distance as she made her way home. She always did make it home, her red boots clicking with confidence and authority on the cracked New York sidewalks.

Bucky expected tonight would be the same, but he needed to make sure. Sav bustled out of the back entrance into the alley, pulling her ankle length coat closer against the bracing cold of the night air. Bucky felt the urge to pull her to him, to warm her with the heat from his own body and he pressed his nails into the heel of his hand, reminding himself of where he was and who he was. A super soldier in hiding couldn’t have friends, and he certainly couldn’t have any other kind of relationship. He aggressively adjusted his metal arm as he reminded himself of these realities.

The back entrance swung open aggressively as three men in matching cuts strode out of the bar. One of them called out to Sav, his tone making the hairs raise on the back of Bucky’s neck. He waited tense, hoping they would give up, or be too inebriated to pursue her further. Two of them mounted their bikes as Sav stood frozen several feet away. As their engines revved, she made a dash for the back door, seeking the safety of the crowded bar again. A smart move, Bucky thought, and she waited till they were preoccupied with their heavy motorcycles, giving her the best chance at getting back inside.

As she scampered past, the third man, too drunk to get on his motorcycle, stuck a foot out and tripped her. She fell onto into the vile muck that covered the ground in the alley of the back entrance.

…

She gasped with pain as her forearms hit the ground, feeling something sharp ripping into the skin of her right arm.

“Fuck,” she thought, knowing she had missed her window to get out of this without a fight. She recognized those cuts the men were wearing, and knew they weren't going to let her leave. She had lost some fights like this in the past and they hadn’t turned out well for her. She felt the adrenaline course through her as she prepared to fight for as long as she could. Her breathing shallow, she jumped to her feet, ready to claw her way to the door when her gaze landed on a fourth figure.

The bikers saw him too and they each pulled a gun from their waistbands and pointed them at the new comer. Sav braced herself for the sound of bullets to echo down the alley, but almost in the blink of an eye, all three of the men were disarmed and on the ground.

“It’s Sav right?” The figure asked in a voice too calm for the occasion. She swallowed, trying to keep from vomiting from the stress as she nodded her head. He took her hand gently in his own and pulled her a few feet into the shallow light of a street lamp. “This looks like it might need stitches,” he said.

Startled out of her daze, she looked up at the stranger, recognizing with a start, the handsome man from the bar.

“Hey, Sav, did you hear me?” His kind voice nudged gently, weaving its way into her thoughts and pulling her back to reality again. “I said your arm is bleeding pretty badly, can I take you to a hospital?” Sav shook her head insistently. “No? Well, it really needs to be treated,” his voice trailed off as he looked over her shoulder then quickly pulled her a few steps further to another motorcycle waiting a good distance from the others.

“We need to go,” he said, placing a helmet over her head as he kicked the bike to life as he turned and indicated for her to sit behind him. She could hear the angry barks of the rest of the biker gang as they discovered the three men on the ground. Without further thought, she swung her leg over the bike and squeezed her body close to the man in front of her as he sped away.

Chalk and Leather (Murphy McNully x Reader)

DISCOVERING AMORTENTIA SMELLS LIKE MURPHY McNULLY TO YOU

Harry Potter Hogwarts Mystery - Murphy McNully x fem!Reader

A/N: Since we just finished up the valentine’s day quest, got to give some love to the characters we can’t date. :) 

Masterlist

“What do you smell, Y/N?” Skye asks you as you stand what should have been a safe distance from the cauldron Snape has bubbling in the middle of his classroom. Streams of pink smoke loft occasionally into the air as your professor’s voice continues to cut through the crowd, droning on about how you need to study amortentia to know how to identify it and therefore avoid it. A better policy seems to be just don’t touch any potions you don’t know.

You try hard not to lean forward but it is intoxicating. Skye elbows you and raises her eyebrows; clearly hoping your nose might provide some juicy gossip.

“I smell chalk and freshly cut grass and—“

Your eyes find the real thing you are smelling on the other side of the room. Murphy McNully, one of your dearest friends, is beside Rowan, the two chatting in hushed tones about something or the other. He laughs — the kind of bright, full laugh that consumes his whole face — and you feel the warm trickle in your chest you haven’t been able to explain for weeks, at least until this very moment.

“Leather and shoe polish,” you finish with a whisper. The words flow from your mouth like they’re the solutions to a riddle because they are. You are in love with Murphy McNully and somehow you hadn’t put two and two together until it was right under your nose.

You take another whiff and enjoy the fragrance you associate only with your rambling friend. It’s a pleasant blend of masculine comforts, rustic and warm like the boy himself. McNully catches your eyes across the room. He smiles, always so friendly, though something in your face must be off because he frowns soon after, returning his attention to Rowan and the rest of your class on his side of the room.

“That’s an odd collection of scents,” Skye muses. “I just smell the pitch.”

“Predictable. Maybe I’ll give those bludgers some amortentia next practice and see if they’ll chase after you like some lovesick puppies so I can take the day off.”

Skye cackles even though your joke wasn’t that funny and Snape snaps at the both of you.

“Is this stuff getting to your head, Parkin? Making you dumb?”

“No, Professor.”

“Then I advise you keep your voice down and pay attention,” Snape says, speaking to Skye but looking at you as well.

“Yes, Professor.”

Snape turns on his heels and heads back towards his desk. Skye lets out a breath, shaking off her scolding. You wish you could shake off your feelings, too: joy, fear, anxiety, doubt, hope, and love above all the others. 

As the class ends, your quidditch crew prepares to leave and head to the pitch for practice. McNully usually never misses an opportunity to come with you all and practice his announcing skills but when Skye calls out his name in the corridor of the dungeon, he mumbles something under his breath. He doesn’t even meet your gaze as he rolls down the hall and out of sight.

“Someone’s a little grumpy.”

The worry fills your chest like a balloon, making it hard to breath. 

“Isn’t that odd, though? He’s always chipper.”

“So are you and you look like a house elf denied her supper,” Skye laughs, patting you on the back as she runs ahead to catch up with Orion and the rest of the gang. But you can’t join in the joyous run. McNully is somewhere less than pleased about whatever he saw on your face during potions.

You arrive at the locker rooms and change into your quidditch gear, a little slower than usual. Your brain won’t stop replaying images of the dinners spent playing wizard chess with the dimpled blond currently getting situated in the announcer’s booth, the late nights in the common room, your legs up on his lap, memorizing quidditch strategy, and the after-match hang outs where you often found excuses to be close to him, grab his hand, and congratulate him on commentary you arguably didn’t hear given your focus on the match. How had you not seen before just how much he meant to you and just how many of your tiny fantasies about how nice it would be to have a boyfriend involved soft blue eyes just as you closed your eyes to be kissed or running your hands down crisp white collars as you snuggle close in front of the fire, or the pleasant warm laughter of mirth-filled lungs as warm hands run through your hair, just as soft and strong as McNully’s? Everything you hoped for had been right in front of you for well over a year.

When the team assembles and takes to the air, you heard the faint calls of Murphy’s voice from the booth as you bat at the first bludger. He had come to practice after all, just not with you.

“And Y/L/N whacks the bludger away from Parkin with a—“

There is an odd and long silence that follows and it seems the whole team notices. The entire friendly slows, each broom taking to a lazy bob as your team’s statistician stands in stasis. 

“… some level of accuracy,” he finally says with a cough. 

Murphy is struggling with numbers? That’s odd, you think and it seems everyone else is as confused as you, that is at least until Orion screams for you to focus from the other end of the field, clearly not wanting to lose practice time. But he doesn’t even need to call you from your daze. A rogue bludger is already heading for your team’s latest addition, Oliver Wood.

You fly as fast as you can, swooping down towards the goal posts in hopes of intercepting the ball as the rest of the team resumes play. With a great push, you dangle down from your broom and swing low, just hitting the edge of the wall and knocking it back towards the pitch below.

“And with an impressive show of athleticism, Y/L/N managed to protect our young keeper from a bludger that was—“

Murphy coughs like there is a frog in his throat. It’s alarming and your heart pulls for him. Without a thought for anything but wanting to make sure he is okay, you fly down towards the box where Murphy is sitting. His head is in his hands and his face is redder than it normally is. When he sees you, his eyes bug out a little, but he looks away. His attention is back on the game. He straightens his shoulders and begins commentating again.

“And Parkin shoots for the upper left and misses! A rare miss for the ace chaser, whom this season alone has scored 92.4% of shots on open goals in sunny weather.”

Wait, how come that stat was not an issue?

You hover a bit and stare at the boy who is proving quite the enigma. Your chest heaves a bit as you consider what might be happening, but out of the corner of your eye a stream of black comes barreling through. 

Instinctively, you press forward and swing your bat just as the bludger enters into Murphy’s commentary box. The bludger flies away to the east just as McNully covers his face, prepared for a sure to be painful smack right to the noggin. Your momentum however doesn’t stop just because you managed to knock the ball away. You pull up on your broom but can’t stop and land right down on top of Murphy, curling up in his lap as his wheelchair slides back into the wall. His arms wrap around you protectively, covering your head as the house banners fall down upon you in a giant crash. 

Once your crash ends and the chaos subsides, you realize exactly where you are; seated on Murphy’s lap with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, canopied in the privacy of fallen tapestries. Murphy’s breathing is hard as his hands curl into the flesh of your back.

And for the first time since potions, he smiles.

“Y/L/N with the greatest save of the day,” he whispers, his hand reaching up to wipe a bit of dust off your cheek. 

You face is hot as you look deeply into Murphy’s eyes, unable to stop the smile on your face, too. And somehow, suddenly, everything feels right.

“And what were my chances of making it?” 

He slides his hand into your hair as he tilts your face up to him.

“I haven’t a bloody clue.” 

He shakes his head and laughs, his cheeks turning the brightest red you’ve ever seen. You start to speak but his voice interrupts you.

“I can’t think of a single thing but you when you’re near, you know that?” 

“I— I can’t either.”

Murphy laughs, the hearty kind you missed just a little, and the matching smile on his face only makes it better. He pulls you closer to him, letting you rest your head against his chest. He takes a deep and stabilizing breath.

“Lilac,” he says more to himself than you, “And fresh clean linens.” 

And now it is your turn to smile as you realize Murphy knows your scent, too— two people attracted by nothing other than each other. It’s impossible to resist the urge, just like this morning in Snape’s classroom, to draw closer to the source of such joy. Every part you longs to lift upward, to taste the thing you’ve been craving so intensely, the thing you didn’t know you needed.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you okay?” Skye is screaming from somewhere near by. You hear the scrambled sounds of brooms dropping onto the deck and footsteps rushing to your aid.

But McNully doesn’t care. His hand takes your chin and he kisses you full on, not wasting a moment to seal your newly-declared affections. And all you can do is melt into him.

A faint breeze hits your face and you look up to see Skye standing now under the banners, her eyes filled with mischief as she takes you in.

“That chalk smell makes a whole lot of sense now.”

Murphy’s eyes bug out of his head as he pushes back on you.

“I smell… like chalk to you?”

“Among other things.”

He laughs, “I’ll have you know my spell for the chalk board reduces chalk use by 68.3% over traditional writing methods.”

You can’t help but smile. He’s back in all his quirkiness and something about the fact that he can be himself with you in his arms, open about your feelings, brings you more joy than you can say. And that joy is the kind of joy you hope to have every night moving forward with the boy who smells like chalk and leather by your side and loving you fully.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik, @amberkay284, @the-new-galahad, @13ofjuly, @daft-not-punk

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines​, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech​, @luckyvirgo​, @hellizhelusive2​, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid​, @amazingwonderlandnapkin, @garbdump​

Greyhound Station [Prologue]

Chapter: Prologue

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky Barnes x Ballerina!Reader

Summary: Since she was eight years old, Y/N Parker knew only one thing for certain: that she would always love James Buchanan Barnes. By fourteen, she was positive she knew everything—including that Bucky would be hers forever. When she was eighteen, she realized she really only knew three things: one, that New York was rotten, two, that she would be a dancer no matter what her parents said, and three, that she would do everything in her power to never see James Buchanan Barnes again. But now, Y/N is twenty-four and somehow, she’s back at where she started all those years ago, at a Greyhound station on 206 Livingston Street.

Warnings:  Fluff, (Loveable) Asshole Clint Barton, Swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m rewriting this series with my good friend, Angelina! Please go check out her account and follow her. She’s an amazing human being and she’s so amazing for helping me write this god forsaken story. I hope you all enjoy what’s coming soon!

Co-written by @dearspacepirates ​​ and @angelinathebook​.

GHS Masterlist // Next >>

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

July 12 was going to go down in history as the day that Y/N Julianne Parker conquered her fear of heights. 

For the past seven years you've lived in Brooklyn, you and the gang went to Coney Island every day that you possibly could in the seventy-seven days of summer that school offered you. And every year, everyone would buy a ticket for the Wonder Wheel… except you. So for an hour of waiting time and ten minutes while your friends could be heard from the top screaming and laughing, you sat at the bottom waiting. But it wasn’t so bad. Someone always sat out with you to keep you company while the rest rode the wheel. Of course, you always felt a little guilty about it; like the little sister that no one wanted to deal with. They drew straws and the unlucky member that was picked didn't get to partake in, apparently, the “best ride ever” that year. 

[Summer of 2004, Third Grade, 8 y/o.]

The first time the gang went to Coney Island, well, the gang was much smaller. Just you, Steve, and Bucky. Sarah was the one to suggest that the boys draw straws.

“We don't leave each other behind,” she'd said, taking out the straw of her coke and cutting it into different sized pieces with the pocket knife from her ex-husband. “Now, that also applies to me. Three straws. Steve, Bucky, and me. Whoever picks the shortest straw stays with Y/N.”

You stared at your feet and shuffled your feet. “I-I don't want to keep you guys from—”

A comforting hand landed on your shoulder and Sarah gave you a warm smile. “Hey, we're not abandoning you.” She ruffled Steve and Bucky’s hair with her spare hand. “These two little buggers and I? We're with you until the end of the line, baby.”

Steve had drawn the short straw that particular time, but he didn't really mind. He said heights triggered his allergies anyway.

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

“You can do this. You can do this. Just brea—”

“Hey, relax, will you? You've been shaking since we picked you up. It's a ferris wheel.” Tony slung his arm around your shoulders, chewing on the stick of the lollipop he started on the walk there. He peaked at you imphisly from under his sunglasses.

“Lay off, Stark. Just be nice about it, ok? She's nervous,” Steve butted in. Always the hero, you thought. 

“Thanks, Stevie. But really, I am… ok. I can do this,” you insisted. You looked up at the giant wheel and your stomach floored. The line shifted forward and Bruce bumped into you.

Bruce adjusted his tilted glasses. “Oh sorry—”

“I can't do this!”

Half of the crew sighed and started digging through their pockets. Tony, Thor, and Natasha muttered small curses before handing fives to Clint, Loki, and Bucky. 

“I really thought you were going to this time around,” Natasha groaned, but she still smiled at you before glaring at a very satisfied Clint.

You huffed in annoyance. “Even you, Bucky?”

“Don't hate the player. Hate the game, killer,” he smirked, shoving Thor's five into his pocket. You continued to frown.

“Aw, come on, doll. Don't be that way.” Bucky came over to you, placed his hands in his jacket, and shot an innocent pout at you. “You know I love you. You're my dream girl.”

You punched him in the arm. “Fuck off, James.”

He backed up like a wounded dog, holding his arm. “Hey, I'm just trying to make us some money. So we can start a life together, baby. You and me.” 

Flirt. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” Tony muttered, putting his wallet back in his pocket. “Who's got the straws?”

Steve bashfully pulled out multiple straws of different lengths and began to shuffle them in his palms. The routine started again. Everyone pulled a straw: Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Nat, then Bucky. 

Bucky drew the short stick. 

The gang patted his shoulder—their clandestine form of sympathy, just as the routine went. The gang entered the line and you and your unlucky companion for the next hour and ten minutes sat on the bench near the vintage ice cream parlor that sold flavors all the way back to the 1930s. And then, you'd thank whoever sat with you. Sometimes, they bought you a cone or if they had historically Irish luck, then you'd buy them a sundae because it was the second time they had to sit with you. (A rightfully bitter Clint once asked for the most expensive item on the menu and Coney Island prices weren't cheap.)

Something about this time was different though. It was funny. In all the seven years you'd known Bucky, he never once drew the short straw. Never. Long had he been accused of cheating, but your peers could never prove it. Until now.

Apparently, he wasn't cheating.

You decided to stick to the routine anyway, despite the sour frown on Bucky's face. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You tried to shoot him a small smile, but his pout persisted and he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. 

You sat there for a good ten minutes until you started to get sick of Bucky’s frown. Bucky was always difficult when he was in a bad mood, but after years of trial and error, you knew how to deal with his moodiness. “I’ll be right back,” you said.

You got up and waded into the crowd of people before disappearing altogether from Bucky’s view. He slumped further into the bench. “Why am I even here if you're just gonna split?” he muttered.

After several minutes, Bucky’s cheeks began to hurt and he sat up. Where were you? He stood and scanned the surrounding area for his annoyingly evasive friend. 

“Hey!” A finger poked him in the shoulder and when he turned, he was met with a large ice cream cone shoved in front of him. Behind it, stood Y/N with an innocent grin lining her face.

Bucky took the cone and smirked, “You remembered.”

“Burgundy cherry on a sugar cone. Two scoops,” you recited, rocking back and forth on your heels.

He chuckled. She always knew how to cheer him up. He stared at the scoop of pink ice cream. “I’m sorry for being… dumb about the ferris wheel. I know you don't like it,” he mumbled. 

“It’s okay.” You blushed behind your cone, hoping Bucky wouldn't see. “You’re lucky you've got those baby blues, Barnes. It's what's kept me around all these years,” you joked, shoving him playfully in the arm. 

Bucky pulled away in pretend pain. “Careful killer, you just might make me fall in love with you.”

“Save it, Barnes.” 

Bucky watched you while you returned to licking your ice cream. As much as he loved you, Bucky was going on that ride.

He stood up and reached out for your hand, smiling warmly. “Come on, Killer. I've got a surprise for you.”

You looked up with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you gotta close your eyes.” Bucky walked behind you and covered your eyes with his free hand. “Trust me. You'll like this.”

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” you screeched, pushing into Bucky’s side, trying to get away from the edge of the seat. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you rose higher and higher. You screwed your eyes shut, but it only accelerated the tears that poked at the corners and threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

“Bucky, I want off…” you whimpered. “I want to get off.” 

“Hey, just don’t look down. You’re safe with me,” he assured you, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it, hard. He pulled his other arm away from where you pressed against it and wrapped it around your shoulders, beckoning you into his embrace. 

“Please Bucky, I want to get down,” you whispered, one single tear rolling down your cheek as you spoke. You knew what you were asking wasn’t rational, but logic and reason were left on the ground below, along with your confidence. 

“Just focus on your breathing and focus on me,” He coached, making stupid deep-breathing gestures with his arms. 

“What about you? Focus on how much I hate you or the strong urge I have to punch you?” You fire back, not feeling at all comforted. If anything, that made it worse. You were slowly rising higher and higher and the pit in your stomach grew deeper and deeper. 

“Well I… was thinking more like something along the lines of this,” he murmured, taking your hands. He started to rub small circles into the skin of your hand with his thumb, “And this,” he said with the same soft intensity, the arm that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders, snaking itself around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, warming you from the breeze of being so high. And then Bucky made that stupid face that made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. So stupid…

Bucky watched as you calmed your breathing. He knew you’d probably uphold your promise to punch him when you got off, but it was worth it. You shivered at the cool temperature from being at the top of the ferris wheel. Bucky’s instincts pulled your closer to him; he was always warm, so you would always cuddle up to him. It was then that Bucky realized that he was still holding your hand and you were still staring at him with your stupid, doe eyes. 

And that’s when Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. 

All of freshman year, you and he had been dancing around each other, daring the other to just say something, but the two of you were probably the most stubborn people on the planet. He wasted all of freshman year flirting with other girls because he had too much pride to just admit that you were the only one for him. Fuck friendship, Bucky Barnes fell hard for you and he didn’t want to come up for air any time soon. 

“What’re you starin’ at, pretty boy?” you mumbled. 

“Killer, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, just wait until we get off this damn—mphf!”

Lips connected to yours. The butterflies in your stomach that started flapping because of your sheer terror, began to fly for entirely different reasons. His lips were soft and gentle. You gripped his hand a little tighter and lifted your free one to drag it through his hair.

“Oh shit! Are you guys fucking making out!?” You could hear Clint’s voice two cars down. 

“Holy shit!” Tony. “Someone get a picture! Also, Thor owes me 20 bucks!”

“What!? You couldn’t have waited like another week, Barnes!?” Thor’s voice boomed. 

Bucky placed his hand on the side of his mouth and yelled down, “Stop betting on everything!” He sucked in his lip in annoyance and huffed at his friends’ commentary and his ruined moment with you. But you just chuckled.

“I think this is my new favorite ride,” you said and Bucky’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He placed his hands on the sides of your head and kissed your forehead.

“So does this mean you’re my girl, killer?” he mumbled against your head.

“I don’t know, James. I’m still pretty mad that you tricked me.”

“Didn’t you say you liked this ride now. I remember you calling it ‘your favorite ride,’” he said, bending his fingers in air quotes.

“I’m punching you when we get off this stupid machine, jerk.”

“If it means I get to kiss those pretty lips again, then hit me with your best shot.”

[Summer of 2020, 24 y/o.]

“We are now in New York City. This is 206 Livingston Street. Thank you for riding with Greyhound and we hope you have a good day.” 

The double-doors of the bus opened with a hiss and you gathered your bags after saying goodbye to the nice father who was taking his boys on a trip to the Big Apple for their summer vacation.

Your phone buzzed.

Today | 10:00 am

Wanda: Hey, just wanted to make sure you got here ok :) Y/N: I just got off. I’m headed to your apartment right now. Wanda: Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your bags? Y/N: I’m ok. Just waiting for a cab.  Wanda: Ok, stay safe <3.  Wanda: And remember! Drinks at the Odinsons’ at 8, ok?  Y/N: Ok, I'll think about it… Are you sure he won't be there? Wanda: No, drama queen. He took an extra shift at the station anyway. Wanda: Be there! x

You stared at the apartment in front of you and thought about Wanda's last text. You were hesitant to go anyway. Seeing everyone again… It'd bring back too many memories that all involved him. Maybe Wanda was right. You were a drama queen. You couldn't even think his name without being upset. And even though you were in the largest city in America, you had a feeling it would be hard to avoid him. 

God, you couldn't believe you were back here. Six years ago, you swore you'd never come back to New York and here you were in the same place you started. 

Hopefully, Thor still made good drinks.

First Meetings - Arthur Morgan/Elizabeth McGill

Series: Call it Fate or Call it Chance 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Elizabeth McGill (Plus size, Female OC) 

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Summary: Arthur Morgan hears someone in distress in the woods and goes to help. It’s a small world though and soon finds himself meeting a friend of one of his acquaintances. Little does he know it’s the start of a relationship that might just change his fate.  

Warning: Talks of hunting, wolves get killed because they’re trying to eat OC, sorry! Talks of canon character death, spoilers? 

Rating: T

Notes: So, I don’t have the energy these days to write a full fic, but I figured if I write a series of interconnecting one-shots then I can write for these two, get the story there, but without needed them all to lead off from one another like chapters. This series will document that relationship between Arthur Morgan and Elizabeth McGill, a plus size, English OC of mine who’s basically the online character but with less of the outlaw stuff. I hope you love her as much as I do and I hope you enjoy this first part in the series.

Archiveofourown

I’m always happy for requests, suggestions, prompts, questions about this two even if my normal requests are closed. Feel free to draw my characters, feel free to write stuff for them, feel free to ask me questions about them. 

“Oh, go away you bloody little blighters! Shoo! I said shoo!” Arthur heard the call over all else, a lilting English accent, soft but scolding, like a mother to a troublesome child. He shifts Dave, the large black shire who he’d allowed Jack to name, forward, just breaching the tree line to see a woman standing on the lower branch of a tree, arms wrapped around the trunk. Wolves circled the base, baying, waiting, biding their time, hoping she’d slip. They were so entirely focused on her that they gave Arthur and the large horse no mind, not caring much for them at the moment. Clearly they had decided this woman was dinner and had some sort of spiteful vendetta, if wolves could feel spite that is. 

She was a plump thing, short in height, round in figure with dark chestnut hair piled high in a gibson style pompadour atop her head. Her cheeks were rouged and her lips painted a poppy red, heavy skirt falling around her feet, kicking up every now and then as a wolf attempted to jump high enough to reach her, to try for a bite. He watched her kick one a way, a well aimed kick that set the wolf flopping to the ground with a yelp before it got back up again growling. A pretty thing, for sure. 

Elizabeth McGill very rarely cursed out her horse, Scrawny, but today she was certainly doing so, mentally of course. She loved her big, doofus of a horse, the gypsy cob was anything but scrawny and he was gentle natured. He was, however, a coward when it came to wolves. He had bucked her so hard she’d lost her glasses, and in her haste to climb a tree hadn’t been able to find them again. If she could see she’d just shoot the bloody wolves circling her, unfortunately, she was blind as a, well, person without her glasses, and she did not trust that she’d hit a single one. She was usually a fine shot, hunting had become part of her trade, but...she usually could see while doing it. It also didn’t help that Scrawny had run off with all but her revolver, leaving her there. His loyalty was astounding. 

“Y’alright, miss?” She can’t see much, just a blurry shape at the edge of the trees, big enough to be a man on a horse, big and dark coloured. The voice is deep, a heavy southern drawl that is pleasant on the ears, even more so because she’s been waiting desperately for a helping hand. 

“I could do with a little assistance, sir!” She was usually the one helping others, but today, the tables had turned and she was not going to turn down the one person who’d arrived in the last half hour. She was fed up of clinging to a tree trunk especially in a heavy autumn skirt. She hadn’t been planning on hunting that day, she’d already done quite enough on the journey down from the Adler Ranch and had been close to Valentine, expecting to simply sell the pelts, teeth, claws, and the like that she’d gathered. Her first mistake was expecting a simple, calm journey of course. Things never were simple or calm, if it wasn’t a cougar attempting to eat her, an ambush by some local gang, or some fellow in need of help, then it was bad weather or snakes. The latter of which Scrawny hated even more than wolves, if that was possible. 

She didn’t so much as watch the man circle around on his horse, shooting the wolves, as much as squint ineffectively and listen to the sound of hooves clipping the dirt, snorts from a remarkably brave horse, and the dying yelps of wolves. Part of her was envious that Scrawny wasn’t that brave, had he been she could have easily dealt with the wolves herself and never ended up in this damnable tree.

“You can come down now, miss.” The man proffers a hand and Elizabeth takes it using its strength and a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she clambers down from her perch, she’s still blind and the help is appreciated. She doesn’t doubt that she’d easily take quite the tumble without guidance. He is nothing if not respectful, the other hand that rests at her waist to help down is placed just so as not to cause offence and is removed the moment her feet are on stable ground. 

What he truly notices is just how short she really is, now she’s beside him her head barely comes to his shoulder. He feels suddenly too imposing, large, and feels the urge to make himself smaller if only to appear less intimidating. 

“I...thank you, do you happen to see a pair of spectacles on the ground? My horse bucked me and I lost them...otherwise I would have handled the wolves myself but, i’m rather blind like this.” Arthur finally notices the way her hazel eyes don’t quite focus on him or her surroundings, when he speaks she can’t quite look him in the eye, but instead moves her gaze around as if trying to. Her squint is also more noticeable all of a sudden and he finds himself hastening to find her spectacles, looking across the ground careful to mind his step. 

“You probably shouldn’t go telling strange men that, ma’am, some might take advantage.” He doesn’t say it to be intimidating or the like, simply out of concern. She clearly couldn’t see well without them and a lesser man, someone like Micah, would surely take advantage. Her trust in him is refreshing but concerning at the same time. He, after all, does not consider himself to be a good man.

“Well, it’s a good thing that a gentleman like yourself happened by instead then, Mr…?” She knows he is concerned for her, she is sure like many men before he thinks her too naïve, too sweet, and perhaps he isn’t wrong on some of those counts. But, she preferred not to live life assuming the worst of everyone, even if people tended to prove that they were indeed rather rotten inside. The amount of strangers in need of help she’d stopped by only to be ambushed was rather alarming at times. But, she did pride herself on her own ability to look after herself, except when she found herself without her glasses. 

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan.” 

“Elizabeth McGill, a pleasure. Thank you, for stopping. I might have been up there for hours otherwise, until they got bored that is, but...I’ve known wolves to bide their time.” She pretends to help because really her running her hands along the grass isn’t doing much, she can’t see after all. 

“Uh, here, Miss McGill, your glasses.” He finds them a ways away from the tree, far enough that he knows she’d have never found them on her own. They’re round and surprisingly unbroken which he is oddly relieved to see for a man not at all invested in them. He passes them to her, watches them change the shape of her face, the clarity coming to her eyes as she blinks up at him with a soft smile. They suit her, feel like something she’s supposed to be wearing, not something that she has to wear. 

For the first time Elizabeth can see her saviour clearly and the man certainly impressed. He was tall, that she already knew even without her glasses, and he was broad, strong, the sort of man that could clearly lift a heavy weight, tackle a man to the ground or hold his own in a fist fight. Mr Morgan had a weathered, but handsome face, little freckles marked his skin, signs of spending time in the sun, his beard was long but neat, but most striking of all were his eyes. He had the most gentle bluish-green eyes she’d seen on a man of his size. 

“You gonna be okay? Your horse still around?” His brows pulled together in the middle out of concern and she found herself smiling at him without much thought. He had been kinder to her in the last 15 minutes than most people were. It warmed her heart just a little more. 

“He’ll be around,” She stops and whistles, sharp, and high. Clear as crystal, and waits a few beats before whistling again. This time Arthur can hear the sound of heavy hooves galloping forward and moves just in time to avoid a large palomino gypsy cob that comes careening out from behind some trees. The horse is lumbering and large as any draft horse is, white and cream dappled coat, dirty from his escape. His hindquarters are covered in pelts, more pelts than Arthur has ever seen, and it’s clear to him that this Miss McGill is a skilled hunter and, if not for her spectacle issue, would have been just fine on her own. It changes his opinion of her, shapes it from a naive, delicate woman, to someone more capable, though still seemingly sweet and lady-like. If possible his interest in her peaked further. 

She places her hands on her wide hips, scowling up at the horse, who’s nodding his head up and down at her in greeting with little nickering sounds, “Scrawny. I hope you know I’m terribly disappointed in you. Leaving me like that. I thought we agreed we were going to work on this wolf phobia of yours, or were you just conning me out of all those oatcakes?”

The horse huffs in a decidedly human way that makes Arthur grin, he doesn’t doubt the big thing had been making away with as many oatcakes as possible with absolutely no understanding or intention of facing a pack of wolves anytime soon.

“You’re lucky that kind Mr Morgan here was happy to help, what would you do if I was eaten by a ferocious pack of wolves?” The horse nickers and presses his large head against her, bumping into her hard enough for her to let out an ouph and take a few steps back. Her back hitting Arthur’s chest, he raised his hands to the tops of her arms to steady her before taking a polite step back, aware he could easily crowd her. 

“I was just doing what anyone would, Miss McGill.” She turns to raise an eyebrow at his words and he feels decidedly admonished before she’s even parted those red lips.

“I think we both know that’s not true, Mr Morgan. I’ve stopped to help enough people who’ve turned a gun on me to know that you are one of a small minority of good folk, whether you want to believe you are or not.” She watches him rub the back of his neck, worn hat tilting forward to hide half his face, but she can still see the beginning flush to his skin from the attention and the creeping little smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. It makes her smile in return, this large, imposing man, bashful at a little compliment like that. 

“What are you doing out here anyways, Miss?”

“I just came down from the mountains. I was visiting a friend who...well, she wasn’t there and her...her husband was dead.” There is a shaky pause, he can see her hand trembling slightly at the thought of her friend and her husband before she bunches it up in her skirt, “Did some hunting on the way down, figured I'd make my usual stop in Valentine to Ted, the butcher, usually gives me a fair price for the things I bring him.” 

Elizabeth can still see poor Jake’s face, cold, frozen solid in the back of a wagon. Some animals had gotten to him before he’d frozen completely and she’d spent a whole day just digging him a grave, hard work considering the ground was almost completely solid itself. But she couldn’t leave him like that and she knew he’d prefer being buried on his own property to burned or some such. She still had blisters on her palms from the digging, despite gloves the hard work had rubbed her hands raw. Made it a tad more difficult to hunt on the way down with her bow, but she’d managed. 

“What was your friend's name?”

“Mrs Adler, Sadie Adler. Used to do jobs for her and her husband when I visited...why?”

“Well, it’s a small world, Miss McGill.” He looks almost surprised at the name she’d thrown out, before smiling at her softly and elaborating, “Me and my friends, we found her oh about...3 weeks back? She was in a pretty bad state, but she’s been with us since. Awful business that with her husband, some O’Driscolls killed him.” Arthur looks apologetic and it soothes her distress to know that at least Sadie is safe, that at least despite all the bad luck in the world something had gone right for her. She hadn’t been found by someone else, someone who would hurt her and that was a small blessing in a world full of problems and bad people. 

“You and your friends?” It’s said with a raised eyebrow and all he can do is rub the back of his neck and look away from her. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, when she clearly suspects his friends aren’t just his drinking buddies. But, he’s not entirely sure if he can trust her. She seems nice enough, but plenty of people seem nice enough till they find out you have a bounty on your head. Not that Elizabeth could take him in, he doubts given the sheer difference in size that she’d manage it on her own. But, he wouldn’t put it past her to try...if she were so inclined. To him she seems both gentle, delicate, and formidable, words that seem like they shouldn’t work together until you look at her. 

“Well…”

“Relax, Mr Morgan. I understand.” She does, she’s known enough ‘gangs’ of ‘outlaws’ to know that not all are as bad or dishonourable as they seem and that the need to protect their made family was great. She had her suspicions but if they had helped Sadie as Arthur had helped her then she had little doubt that they were the honourable sort of outlaw that she had little problem with. So long as innocent people weren’t getting hurt and the poor weren’t being robbed from she had few objections, even if she personally wasn’t comfortable with robbing or lying, herself. 

The world was a harsh place, few could support themselves on simple law abiding trades like hunting. She was lucky in that respect. One mouth to feed was different to 20. 

“Could I...I hesitate to ask, after all you’ve done for me, Mr Morgan...but could I see her? I...I can’t imagine what she’s going through and I’d like her to know Jake had a proper burial. I did rites and all. She deserves to know.” She twists her hands together, nervous of his answer. She could understand if he said no, he clearly needed to protect his gang and she was a stranger to him. But, she wanted to see her friend and most of all she wanted her friend to know that Jake wasn’t left out there to be eaten or for someone else to find. She’d even managed to gather some of Sadie’s things from the ranch in the end. Photos and trinkets that she’d hoped at the time to be able to give her if she was still alive. 

Arthur rubbed a large scarred hand across his beard, the hairs scratching at his skin as he looked at her. She was small in stature, soft in body, and those hazel eyes held honest intentions. Taking her back to camp wasn’t without risk, but a liar knew a liar when he saw one. She didn’t care about his gang, she wasn’t hunting them down for a fat bounty, she just wanted to see her friend and after everything Mrs Adler had been through he thought she might want to see her friend too. 

With a deep sigh and a quick thought that he hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, Arthur pulled the black bandana from his back pocket. “I’d have to blindfold you, Miss...I gotta...I gotta protect them and I can’t be havin’ you know where we’re at. You understand?”

She could walk away, that was the offer. Be blindfolded by this stranger, this tall, broad, imposing figure or walk away. It was an easy decision to make. He was large and he was imposing, but the gentle way he held out the piece of cloth, the soft furrow to his brow, the way he hunched his shoulders to look smaller, all those things told her he was a good man. Not a pure man, not devoid of wrongdoing or bad deeds, but good in the sort of way that a man out here could be good. She would be safe with him. She could trust his intentions towards her. 

“I understand, Mr Morgan.” She consents taking the fabric from him, it is softer than she expects, “Before we go, I'd suggest we skin those wolves. Your camp needs food I'm sure and those pelts’ll fetch you a good bit of coin, waste not want not.”

“Are you sure?” She’s the hunter after all, or it seems that way and part of Arthur can’t help but feel like she’d have done just fine without him had her glasses not been knocked off. Maybe, she’d been wanting to hunt the four wolves in the first place. He doesn’t want to offend her by taking what she might see as hers, but she just gives him another one of those looks that reminds him of a prettier, younger, much more amicable Ms. Grimshaw. 

 “Mr Morgan, you shot them, they’re yours to plunder. I have enough bloody pelts as it is, Scrawny here would probably complain if he had a few more to carry, right boy?” As if in answer the big cob nods his head up and down with a huff, clearly used to be used as a pack horse. He’s not sure the horse really understands the question, but it’s clear he’s a responsive horse used to a talkative owner, not like Dave who’s stood quietly behind Arthur, only occasionally nudging him with his nose and nibbling at strands of his hair as if expecting a sugar cube to be there. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” She helps him skin them, while she hadn’t intended to do any skinning today and her blouse would certainly hate her for it, sharing the work would make it go quicker and she could offer a few tips as they went. Not much seeing as Mr Morgan was already a skilled hunter by the looks of things. The pelts were in fine condition, he was clearly a good shot, one rifle round to each wolf’s head, no mess, no unnecessary injuries or wasted ammunition. While they had wanted to kill her, she held a healthy respect for wolves and was glad that they didn’t die slowly. Quickly, cleanly, and humanely, something she held dear when it came to hunting. 

Elizabeth grabbed a ratty cloth from her saddlebag, using it and some water from a canteen to clean her arms, it was never smart to leave blood on you and it wasn’t particularly nice either. She offered both to Arthur who gladly did the same, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick forearms being cleaned of blood. It was startling to her in that moment that she didn’t feel scared or worried at all. Here she was in the woods with a stranger, a broad, striking and clearly strong stranger, who had multiple guns, a hunting knife, and a bow all on hand. Yet, she didn’t feel a lick of apprehension or worry. 

“Who’s this beautiful boy then?” There was a split second when Arthur, despite himself, almost thought she was talking to him. That was clearly not the case when he looked up startled to see her approaching Dave. The large shire usually disliked others, but was only watching the woman cautiously, deciding whether to bite, kick, or con her out of some food. When Hosea had given him the large beast claiming he was hard to handle and that he’d be better off selling him, something in Arthur had understood. The horse was a bit like him, he was a bit world weary, cautious of others, afraid of getting hurt, but underneath it all a soft hearted thing. 

“...Dave.” He wished in that moment that he hadn’t allowed Jack to name the shire, he loved Dave. Had bonded well with him, but telling a pretty lady that your horse was named Dave rather than Boadicea was a might embarrassing especially when that horse was 17 hands high and capable of trampling wolves underfoot. 

“He’s beautiful.” She likes his name, not that she says that, but it’s clear from the flush to Arthur’s cheeks that he’s not confident in the name choice. She thinks it suits. The shire is beautiful, giant compared to her and larger than Scrawny who was an impressive 15 hands high, especially considering his breed. The Shire pawed at the ground as she got closer, but she hushed him, little quiet comments and soothing sounds, a hand pulling a sugar cube from a skirt pocket. 

There was always something special about getting a horse like that to trust you, to eat from your palm and accept the touch of your hand to their neck. Dave was clearly a distrusting animal, but he let her pat his neck and brush his forehead. He let her tie Scrawny’s reins to his saddlehorn knowing she couldn’t guide herself blindfolded. 

“He don’t usually take to people too well…”

“Well, he just needs a kind touch that’s all. Someone hurt him real bad and he just needs to know that won’t happen again, right, sweetheart?” She says to the horse in a gentle tone, low and quiet. Arthur feels as if she’s talking about him, he thinks on the times he’s been bitten, the way he’s drawn back from people and he understands a little bit more why he and Dave work so well together. They’re two sides of the same damn coin and this woman had a way with both of them already. 

She takes a few steps back, before turning and clambering up into her own saddle. Despite the sheer size of her own horse, she manages well enough to clamber on up even in a thick, heavy skirt. She settles herself, arranges her skirt and takes those delicate round spectacles off and pockets them before grabbing the fabric he’d given her. 

“You’ll make sure Scrawny doesn’t run into any trees?” 

“I got you, miss. Don’t you worry.” It’s with that that Elizabeth wraps the blindfold around her eyes and tightens it at the back of her head, hand holding onto the saddlehorn as they begin to move. 

Arthur cannot help but be a little bit in awe at the trust she has decided to place in him.

Falling for Whiskey (Agent Whiskey x Reader)

Hello Mr. Pascal lovers :D. I recently watched The Mandalorian and fell for Pedro’s sexy voice and protective dad ways. I've been looking for Pedro content and discovered the fics tag by chance... It's so much fun and your stories are great, so I wanted to contribute too, cause I have so many ideas and my imagination is running wild about Pedro these days, haha! Agent Whiskey is one of my favorite characters from him, so here I go. English is not my first language so excuse the mistakes. Hope you enjoy it :)

Summary: (3k words) You're a young Statesman agent and are assigned to a mission with Whiskey and Champagne. The initial dislike between you and Whiskey will turn into something very different later, since you are going to fall hard for each other. He’s tough on the surface but a real cinnamon roll deep down, and you are his weakness.

Warnings: +18 content, references to violence, SMUT.

After a short but impressive record of good results since you became a Stateswoman, your superiors had assigned you to a new mission. You needed to steal some key data from a drug gang which was suspected to have connections with arm traffickers and a terrorist group. Agents Whiskey and Champagne would be teaming up with you for the operation. You were not happy with the arrangement since the take-off meeting had been tense, and these guys didn't seem to be team workers at all. The agents had been distracted and mostly contradicting your ideas, mainly that damn Whiskey. You were even on the brink of starting an argument once or twice. The situation was not ideal and you couldn't wait to wrap up the mission, and hopefully getting a new assignment with new partners.

Your boss had provided the information about the target, an accountant of the mafia. The idea was to set up a distraction and steal some key data from his laptop without him noticing, so that would give you time to collect further proof of their activities before they could react. You followed the guy around for a couple of weeks, studying his daily patterns, his connections and meetings. Working with Champagne was more or less ok, but Whiskey was making things difficult. He was getting on your nerves, being surly and sometimes plainly puzzling. You were exasperated at his attitude, wondering what was the deal with the lone ranger. 

Finally the day came when you had planned to take action. You were supposed to act while the accountant was waiting for his boss in a restaurant, surrounded by some of the mafia thugs. It was not going to be easy. Whiskey and Champagne would keep them distracted. Then you would swap the laptop and leave a fake one. You would copy the data and later you would return the original laptop without them noticing. Things went wrong, however. All thanks to agent Whiskey and his seeming excess of testosterone. Instead of fulfilling his task, apparently he couldn't resist the first opportunity to attack the thugs and caused a ruckus, while the accountant fled the scene. You were frustrated, "This guy can't control himself, how are we going to succeed here?". But mostly you were bewildered since you had found that idiot to be quite hot during the fight. He was definitely fit and holding his whip in a skillful, sexy way..., you hated to be attracted to that type of guy.

It had been an epic fail that called for a group meeting where you all were scolded. Later that night you talked privately to your superior about the mission status, since you were not happy with the course of events. "Don't be too hard on Whiskey, the guy lost his pregnant girlfriend in a shooting not so long ago, with drug dealers involved. He hates them". "Then why did you assigned him to this mission?" you complained. "We want to give him a chance, he's a great asset to us and we need to know if he can overcome his trauma or we can't use him anymore". "Great" you thought, "so they are throwing us at this mess and expecting we handle this guy's issues too". You were not happy at all but also felt guilty for judging Whiskey so quickly while knowing nothing about him. You tried to imagine the pain of losing your girlfriend and a baby on the way...surely he had suffered a lot. No wonder he was easily provoked by the thugs earlier.

Next morning the team gathered in the headquarters in order to study the situation and decide the next step. You had to find another way to get the information you needed. At the beginning you were giving Whiskey the death stare and he didn't seem to know what to do or where to hide. But the truth is, after finding out what had happened to him, you saw Whiskey in a new light and couldn't be too mean. You wanted to make things work. However agent Champagne wasn't feeling so generous. At some point he casually dropped that you had suggested next time you and Champagne would do the fieldwork, while Whiskey would support from the office so he couldn’t mess up again. It was easy to tell that Champagne was joking from his mischievous smile, but Whiskey believed everything and started complaining, angry. You were amused and followed Champagne's ruse for a bit. Grumpy Whiskey was sort of cute and brought to your face a wide smile you couldn't hide. "Do you really think I would say that? We are a team. We have to do this together." He seemed pacified by your words and stopped complaining. Then, after some discussion on the operation details, you left the room a bit embarrassed since that smile might have been unintentionally too warm. Whiskey stayed there, looking thoughtful. And Champagne was still joking and laughing, maybe because he already caught that there was something going on between you and Whiskey? You were a bit upset though. You told yourself that the rough cowboy didn't care about the team or you, and you shouldn't let your guard down because of his sad story, that you needed to keep things professional...Only that was not really how you felt about him anymore.

Next day Whiskey dropped by your office and left you a document folder. He had been gathering intel about the drug mafia. The truth is he had been absent-minded and struggling since the beginning of the mission because he wasn’t sure about working for Statesman anymore…he was still quite depressed since his beloved girlfriend and their baby were taken from him. Then he had screwed up and that was a bit of a wake-up call, he didn’t want things to go that way. He actually liked his job and believed in the Statesman agency values. And there was a general change of mood in the team, with you suddenly smiling at him and all that, so he thought he should do something to contribute. You thanked him and devoted the afternoon to study the documents and review your action strategy. The guys you were facing were dangerous. You knew that the team needed to be solid in order to succeed, and that Whiskey needed to be fully on board. The guy was difficult to control and didn't like team work. You thought you knew what would take to make him change his attitude but it was difficult to take that step. After some internal struggle, you finally gathered enough courage to call him and ask for help. You asked him to elaborate on the documents he brought you and check the action plan together. Asking for help indeed seemed to operate some magic. His voice on the phone was soft when he said he was on his way to your office. He arrived quite fast. Then you sat together for several hours checking everything and discussing the details. It was a productive meeting. He actually helped and gave you good advice, and you gladly took it. His recommendations were quite clever. He seemed to be happy that you were noticeably impressed so he kept offering ideas, and you thought that was very cute of him. That night you stayed together until very late in the office, which you didn't mind since you were charmed by him. His masculine and honeyed voice lulled you and you found yourself once or twice checking his messy brown hair or his strong biceps showing through his shirt. When he casually touched your arm a couple of times to draw your attention, you felt the heat through your body. You wondered if he was aware of the effect his touch had in you. He wasn't, but he didn't miss how comfortable you were in his company or how you looked at him...and he definitely wanted more of it.

You worked on the plan together for a couple of weeks more, and things were looking good. The "team bonding" was going really well. So many hours spent with Whiskey had also an effect in you. You liked him more and more every day. He seemed to enjoy your newfound closeness and looked for you round the clock. He was very supportive and always helping. You felt he was being protective of you. One night you fell asleep during a stakeout, while you were spying on one of your suspects from a nearby apartment. You woke up later in one of the bedrooms, and Champagne casually said that Whiskey had carried you there, so you could get some rest. To know that he had taken such liberties with you and carried you in his arms…that made your heart race. The truth is Whiskey had awakened your female instincts in a way you never had felt before. He might seem tough at first sight but he had a soft side that just started showing, and you knew about his emotional scars. You were weak for him, maybe that strong but damaged guy in need for affection was your type after all? You wanted to take care of him, and that feeling intensified every time he was doing something nice for you. You felt the urge of giving him some love and taking care of him, and that included taking care of his needs as a man too...that very idea was enough to make your body temperature rise. You found him very manly, sexy, and suspected he was an expert and passionate lover. That made you fantasize about being with him and sometimes you were tempted to flirt, since he seemed to like you too. The circumstances were not the best for dating though, so you told yourself that you wouldn't act on your burgeoning feelings. Your determination proved to be weak though, since you couldn’t stay away from him. As for Whiskey, he found you very pretty and sweet when you didn’t had your guard up. He also thought of keeping the distance while working together, in order to not mess things up. However, what he wanted was to be around and protect you, and see your beautiful smile often.

A few days later, finally it was time to strike again and steal the files you were after. You had planned to get it from the office of one of the gang managers. Since the operation was taking place at a social club from the mafia, that gave you a perfect excuse to put on a sexy, revealing dress. You wanted Whiskey to look at you of course. When you arrived to the meeting point, he was there waiting with Champagne. He carelessly said that the group was not supposed to attract attention, while giving you a quick look from head to toe that gave you butterflies in the stomach. You were a bit embarrassed and blushing while reminding him that you were heading to a posh club so the dress was ok but the cowboy hat maybe not. Then you rushed to the car. When arriving at the club, your group stopped at the bar to check who was there, and Champagne ordered some drinks. You didn't know but apart from your sexy figure, Whiskey had noticed your red cheeks before. You were being too cute and looking too pretty for him to resist. The desire to touch you and kiss you was stronger than him. Suddenly he wanted to steal you and bring you far away, so he could keep you safe. Too bad he couldn't do anything in the middle of the operation... You were distracted watching your target -the club manager- leave towards the garden. Then, suddenly felt Whiskey's hand on your waist while he called your name and made you turn and look at him. It was for a second that he touched you, but it was firm, intimate, the kind of touch men use to sound out how welcome they are in your personal space, a warning that they are going to touch you more if you allow them. Your heart was pounding when you faced him. He approached your ear and said "Be careful, princess" in a low voice, and then winked. "We're going outside, see you later", said Champagne and they left you on the spot, distracted.

The agents headed to the garden, following the club manager. Finally alone, you were able to breathe again and quickly focused on your part of the job. You had to steal the content of the manager's computer in his office. This time everything went well and your team could finish and run from the place with no one noticing, bringing some valuable info that would make your boss happy. The operation was a success and the team gathered for some drinks at the bar later that night. Pretty soon, Champagne had started flirting and left with a girl. Your heart fluttered when it suddenly downed on you, that you were alone with Whiskey. But you already had a couple of beers so none of you were so timid anymore. He blocked a guy that tried to flirt with you, totally looking like a jealous boyfriend. It was pretty obvious what was going on there. You talked about the mission for a while and complimented each other's job. Then he smiled and looked at your dress, his eyes shining. "I see you're wearing a dress again tonight, you look very pretty in it ". "Should I wear it more often, then?" you said in a flirty tone... "But only when I'm around so I can protect you from the unwanted attention". Things were heating between both of you and your cheeks were burning. Then he smiled, "Hey, I love this song, come here", he pulled and made you stand up by him. By the time you started complaining about the old-fashioned tune, he already had grabbed you by the waist and was dancing slowly. You were a bit surprised by the move, but quickly shut up and surrendered to the sway and his physical proximity, allowing him to take the lead while looking at him in the eyes. “You like it, don't you?... I can think of other things that you will like, miss". Still smiling, he leaned in for a kiss. He was soft and slow, while holding you tight. Soon the kiss turned more passionate and you needed to separate in order to catch your breath. He looked at you intently and said "Let's go to my place, baby. It's too loud here and I want to be alone with you". For a second you tried to weigh the possible cons of that idea, but you liked him too much to stop there, so you agreed. In the taxi, his hand was resting on your thigh and you felt the burning heat between your legs. You kissed throughout the cab ride. He was running his fingers through your hair and while catching breath between kisses he promised "I'm going to treat you very well, princess". "You better do", that's all you managed to respond before he took your lips again. When you arrived to his apartment, the door closing after you sounded like heaven. Curious about his personal stuff, you explored a bit the living room, apparently to Whiskey's amusement. He approached smiling and grabbed you by the waist, "Do you like this cowboy's humble place, baby? Well, get ready to see the bed, because I'm going to ride you there". Then he started kissing you and lifted you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around him and got lost in his kiss while he carried you to the bedroom. Your fingers got entangled in his hair while he was unbuttoning your dress and kissing every centimeter of your naked skin. The way he touched you and looked at you was a big turn-on, so decisive, so confident and masculine. On the bed already, his hands all over your body, later his head between your legs made you lose your head. He seemed to lose it too when you slipped your hand in his underwear and started playing with his cock, which was ready for action. You noticed his excitement and kept teasing him, playing bad girl. That made him felt the urge to give you what you deserved. "What do you think you're doing, come here", he grabbed you and placed you underneath him, kissing you again, while pressing his hips towards yours. He still had his boxers on but you could feel he was so hard against your entrance. He played around it for a while and you showed your desire, by grabbing his butt and pushing him against you. Then he teased you, introducing the tip of his finger in you. "Oh baby you are so wet, you have no idea how much I like it.” He kept playing with his finger while kissing your neck and then going down to taste your nipples. Excited, you arched your back and made him go up in order to kiss him again, your hands running through his hair, next towards his back. “I want you so much”, you wanted him to know how much you desired him. He seemed pleased to see how excited you were. He kissed your neck and went up to bite your ear, suddenly feeling the need to assert how you belonged to him.  “You know your pussy is mine, don’t you? You are mine now". Then he stood up and took off his underwear. You knew what was coming next, which made you even more excited. He leaned down on you and you hugged and kissed, this time completely naked, with no obstacles for the imminent intercourse. After some exquisitely desperate waiting and begging him to take you, he also couldn't wait anymore. He was on top of you, moving his hips so his cock would slide and position itself against your entrance. You were so wet and he was so hard that the tip entered you with no need for further guidance. Next he penetrated you slowly, taking his time, savoring your moans and the look in your face. He lied on you, holding you in his arms, one hand on your back, the other sustaining your head. He was on top of you, holding you tight and close to him, then started thrusting inside you with passion. Feeling his weight and the grip of his strong arms increased the delicious sensation of being helpless and possessed at his pleasure, his hips moving over you and the friction on your clit bringing you to unknown enjoyment heights. He certainly knew his way around a woman’s body. As you vibrated with pleasure under him, he felt more excited and wanted to be even more inside you, so he silenced your screams with a kiss, his tongue deep in your mouth. Then you completely surrendered to the feeling of being his, let go of all resistance and reached your climax. You kept making love for a while since your thirst for each other was not satisfied yet and he wanted to play with you more. When he came later, you felt so full of him and happy. Both of you were covered in sweat and exhausted. His  blissful smile filled your heart with joy. He caressed your hair and showered you with sweet kisses. But his adoring brown eyes fixed on yours was what made you feel weak and realize that you had a serious problem going on there. You were falling in love.

purify. [3/3] | seo changbin

the gif has absolutely no relevance but holy shit it’s beautiful

pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ humour, fluff, the boys are Bad Bros wc ↠ 2550 summary ↠ the gang comes to your rescue. naturally, chaos ensues. warnings ↠ swearing, a lot of dirty jokes (this is peak dumbassery for the boys)  a/n ↠ please don’t do any of this at home. but if you do, let me know how it goes!

read:  mess (part one) | mayhem (part two) | PURIFY

series masterlist

Fact: Seo Changbin was not a tall man, by any means.

And yet taming this wild beast of a boy was no easy feat - especially after Woojin, Taekwondo maestro and Kendo wizard, took a knee to his nethers and was out of the game.

Changbin had headlocked Jisung who, in turn, had kicked out reflexively at Hyunjin which had Hyunjin toppling over onto Seungmin. And now, Seungmin was sitting on Hyunjin’s back (as he screamed about how he can’t fucking breathe with this bitch on me), punching his ass and Jisung was turning redder than a hot chili. Jeongin was, thankfully, recording this from a safe distance, so when the day was over and done with, none of you ever forgot the beautiful memories that transpired on this fine evening.

You were nursing Woojin back to health, but Changbin had landed a solid kick to his nuts and he was still whimpering in pain as you held an ice pack to his unfairly-thick thighs - the poor, poor man - and you made sure to add kick bin’s tic tac to your to-do list. Nobody hurts Woojin and gets away with it.

Chan, who had been underneath Changbin this entire time, has stopped screaming - you’re pretty sure he’s unconscious now - and it takes Minho and Felix both pouring water over Changbin for the chaos in front of you to stop.

Jisung’s wheezing filled the room and Changbin was heavily panting out his frustration. “I’m not," he huffed, “a demon. Now- fuck off.”

“You’re an-” a loud, shuddering inhale from Jisung, “an asshole.”

“Holy shit,” - holy shit, Chan was alive! - “your bony ass was stabbing me.”

“Serves you right,” Changbin gloated, finally moving off of Chan to slump against the sofa.

“We’re adding squats to your workout,” Chan continued, rolling over before wincing and rolling back, “Someone massage me, please, I think I’m dying.”

“Stop being a baby,” Seungmin replied, and it was only then that you all noticed he was covering Hyunjin’s mouth with one hand and pummelling Hyunjin with the other.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, get off him,” Minho laughed, making no move to actually help Hyunjin out.

You pulled Seungmin back by his shoulder and he easily fell off of Hyunjin, giving the other boy a blissful reprieve from a brutal spanking.

“I need a massage, too,” Hyunjin groaned, tenderly rubbing his ass and recoiling, “holy shit, this burns, what the fuck, man?”

Seungmin shrugged, “You hit me first, man. War is fair shit, y’know?”

“That’s not how the saying goes, you prick.” Hyunjin’s pout had you aww’ing, sitting down cross-legged in front of him so he could rest his head on your lap.

He sighed and nuzzled in further, placing your hands atop his head, urging you to massage him. You snorted but acquiesced, running your fingers through the strands, “Want me to kiss it better, too?”

“Yes please, babe,” Hyunjin replied, eyes closed and mindless tracing shapes onto your leg.

Changbin kicked Hyunjin’s ass after that which had the latter gripping your thigh reflexively and growling, “What the fuck?”

Your mind couldn’t even begin to process how hot that sounded - seriously, you’d seen Hyunjin proudly burp the alphabet, yet this one moment had you weak in the knees?

Pathetic.

“Y/n’s my babe, duh,” Changbin shrugged and you rolled your eyes when he shot you a wink.

“Bastard,” Hyunjin grumbled, sighing out and closing his eyes once more.

“I hate to interrupt this cute-as-shit moment between you all, but are we forgetting why we came here?” Felix questioned, hands on his hips, looking like a disappointed Superman because everyone was relaxing instead of un-demonising Changbin.

A second outbreak ensued after Felix’s announcement - his words had somehow enlivened them all, Woojin leaped up, Hyunjin and Seungmin tag-teamed and took down Changbin, Chan’s back pain was still there, sadly - but this was much more successful than their first takedown attempt.

You stayed on the safe side once more, massaging Chan’s shoulders - holy shit, the man was broad - and maybe your hands slipped to feel his biceps but neither of you were complaining; you’re pretty sure Chan was flexing, just to show off, too, and damn, was that a great life experience. You prayed to God that nothing would ever make you forget the feeling of his muscles beneath your hands.

Hyunjin and Seungmin were now sitting on each of Changbin’s arms; Minho was shirtless - what a sight that was - as he’d used his top to tie Changbin’s legs together; Felix was cooing, gently brushing Changbin’s head as he muttered, “It’s all gonna be okay, baby, I’m here for you, we’ll get through this, yeah?”

Woojin was slumped on the sofa, holding the wet ice pack to his face because Changbin had managed to headbutt him near the start of this fiasco. It was just not his day.

After hauling Changbin into his room and ever-so-gently dropping him onto his bed, the boys took a breather.

“Damn,” Chan whistled, looking around Changbin’s room, “you cleaned this up nicely, y/n.”

“It was me, asshole!” Changbin exclaimed, a proud grin on his face, “I tidied up.”

“Sure you did, Bin,” Seungmin rolled his eyes, “We believe you.”

“Y/n,” Changbin whined in response, “Tell ‘em the truth.”

“Of course it was all me,” you smirked, “Changbin just supervised all my hard work.”

“Sweet, wanna help me and Lix out, too, then?” Jisung popped in, sending an overly-sweet smile your way.

“Nope, nevermind, it was all Bin, he’s your man.”

“He is my man,” Felix sighed dreamily, laying beside Changbin in bed.

“Alright, let’s get him ready,” Minho said, dragging in a duffel bag - when did that get here? - as he entered.

From his position, Felix easily rolled on top of Changbin as the others held down whatever flying limbs they could. 

Just as they all managed to pin him down, Minho whipped out handcuffs, the fiery red cuffs immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“Why…” Chan started, loosening his grip on Changbin’s leg, but he was too shocked to move anyway, “Why on Earth do you have handcuffs?”

“Do you see me questioning your kinks?” Minho drawls, walking over to Changbin who just stares in wonder at Minho.

“Right,” Chan coughed, grabbing onto Changbin’s leg once more, “forget I asked.”

“That’s what I thought, daddy,” Minho teased, shooting a wink over his shoulder to Chan who had a pretty pink blush tainting his cheeks.

The sound of the cuffs clicking seemed to break everyone out of their stupor; you viewed Changbin laying down on bed like that - arms restrained above his head - in a whole new light, and the sight had you snickering.

“You like being tied up, Bin?” you teased, pinching his cheek and, despite having his wrists tethered to his headboard, he tried reaching out for you anyway.

The cuffs pulled him back, clinking against the board as he growled, “Watch your ass when I’m outta these, y/n, you’re so dead.”

You pouted. “Don’t they feel good, though, Binnie?”

You trailed your finger around his wrist, feeling the fluffy material of the cuffs and, you definitely should have expected this - but whatever brain cells you had probably died when you were feeling up Chan - because the next thing you knew was that your own wrist was being grabbed by Changbin’s hand, and damn was his grip strong.

“Let go,” you groaned, trying to pull your hand away, but Changbin was mighty and relentless. “Help me!” You pleaded to the other boys who stood there and watched - Jeongin was still filming (pay respects to his phone storage) as the others just laughed at the turn of events.

“Stay there,” Minho replied, returning to the bag, “Keep him occupied while we do this.”

“Keep him occu- What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Well, he is tied up, you could… you know...” Minho trailed off and you stared at him dully as he kept raising his brows suggestively.

“Nope, no, you do not have my consent, y/n,” Changbin shook his head, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Oh my God, ew, I would never,” you scoffed.

“Why the hell not, what’s wrong with me?” Was Changbin being serious right now?

“Holy shit, where do I start?”

“Maybe y/n’s just jealous?” Jisung interrupted. He continued when you and Changbin raised your brows in question. “Maybe they wanna be tied up instead?”

Changbin turned to you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows teasingly and you rolled your eyes, facepalming with your free hand. 

“Being on top is great,” Felix randomly interjected, leaning his chin on Changbin’s chest.

“Yeah, I can really feel your happiness,” Changbin snickered, and that remark had you all shrieking in disgust.

“Gross, Lix, what the hell, dude?” Jisung exclaimed, punching Felix’s shoulder.

“You popped a- a- Ew, fuck dude!” Hyunjin sputtered, jumping off the bed and away from his perch beside Felix.

“No!” Felix yelled, instantly sitting up and straddling Changbin, “Look, I haven’t!”

“Oh fuck- No one’s gonna look!” Chan said, immediately turning his face to the ceiling.

“I’m looking,” Minho smirked, “And so is y/n-”

“No, I’m not-”

“He’s safe, don’t worry. Woojin you can open your eyes again.” Minho dumped the contents of the bag onto Changbin’s bed, a wide variety of objects and food tumbling out. “Onto more… pressing matters.”

(He smirked when Felix muttered Fuck you.)

“Grab some shit, ladies, let’s get to work.” Minho stated, grabbing a blindfold.

Jisung jumped to pick something up first, but he groaned when he couldn’t open up the cheesy nacho sauce jar. His hands were red from trying to twist the top off, and he whined when it still wouldn’t budge. “It’s so hard!”

You snorted, “That’s what Felix said!”

Felix shot a nasty glare your way. Tough crowd.

“Give it here,” Chan said, holding his hand, “you just need to grip it right before you twist.”

From the lewd smirk he shot your way, you knew exactly what was going through Changbin’s mind. You rolled your eyes because of course his mind jumps to the gutter, how typical.

You haven’t ever taken part in an exorcism - at least you could tick that off your bucket list now - but you were pretty sure whipped cream and feather dusters weren’t usually part of the ritual.

Seungmin had pulled out a bluetooth speaker and was playing some Latin chants out loud as they all began to work on Changbin.

This was more revenge for all of the times Changbin had played you all and you wondered why none of you had thought to do this sooner. Five years of torture and you only got your revenge now? You were slacking.

Changbin’s grip on your wrist didn’t cease - really, it only got tighter when the others began their tormenting - but he loosened up whenever it was too tight.

With your restricted movement, you resorted to just pinching whatever parts of Changbin you could reach. You started with his cheeks, squishing them together until he pouted and you moved on to pulling his ears then flicking his neck.

Eventually, you got tired. You nudged his shoulder and he shuffled along his bed as best as he could. You sat down, mindlessly tracing his red cheeks, booping his nose which he promptly scrunched to look like a bunny. Your hand found its way into his hair and you messed around with the strands, twirling them around your fingers as you leaned your head against the headboard.

You gave up on focussing on what the others were doing.

Chan had spread jam on Changbin’s hands, Seungmin had poured water on Changbin’s socks - Woojin had even signed his forehead. God, this was a disaster.

You stopped watching when Minho began taking off Changbin’s belt. 

After some time - about ten minutes, but the boys had done some seriously-traumatic damage - they all stopped, dropping whatever was in their hands and slumping on the floor.

“By the power vested in me,” Minho started, voice half-muffled as he spoke into the floor, “I condemn your demon ass back home.”

“S’it finally over?” Changbin groaned, nudging you with his shoulder. He had long since let go of your wrist but you had made no move away from him, finding comfort in just resting beside him. You had, however, removed the blindfold a while ago, so he was mentally preparing everyone’s (except yours, of course) cruel demise.

“Alrighty,” Jisung said, jumping up from the ground and clapping loudly to invigorate everyone, “Let’s haul ass, boys!”

“Yep, have fun cleaning this shit up!” Hyunjin said, and the rest of the boys followed him out of the room.

Were they seriously just leaving you with this mess?

Holy shit, there was ketchup on the ceiling, and mayo on the lamp? What the hell had they been doing?

You were too stunned to stop them because there was no way they were leaving you to clear this shit up, but the slam of the front door informed you that yes, that was exactly what they had done.

Assholes.

“Can you please untie me now?”

After releasing the cuffs, Changbin had eased into his bed, despite all the questionable substances on his sheets. The man went through a fate worse than Hell for ten whole minutes, and you felt kind of bad. 

So, you got up despite your aching neck - slouching on the headboard was not your smartest idea - and headed to the bathroom. You turned the tap on, filling the tub up before you pulled out some new sheets from the cupboard and headed back into his warzone of a room.

His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. “What’re you doin’?” He slurred, shuffling on his bed and groaning when some orange sauce trickled down his neck.

“Cleaning up,” you laughed, moving to help him sit up, “I started a bath for you, go.”

He trudged out of the room and you groaned, staring at the disaster in front of you.

Just yesterday, his room was sparkling brighter than Edward Cullen, and now? His socks were hanging off the lights.

You stripped away his bed sheets, dumping them on the floor, but the room was still a shitshow and it was way too late - holy shit, it was past 3am, so too early - to try cleaning the room. You quickly put on the new bedsheets and decided that, after this hellish day, he could sleep in your bed. The man deserved something nice after having Felix straddle his thighs.

“Yo, y/n!” Changbin called out from the bathroom, “Mind bringing me some clothes?”

You grabbed some fresh nightwear out of his cupboard and some Pokemon boxers because obviously he had those filling his drawer. After passing those to him through the door’s opening, making sure not to peek because you didn’t want to be scarred for life with a naked Changbin, you waited for him to come out.

He wordlessly followed you back to your bedroom, turning the lights off and taking your offer to share the bed.

“I could’ve slept on the sofa, y’know,” he mumbled, voice drifting into a yawn.

“S’not that comfy,” you murmur, “just sleep.”

“Night, babe.”

“G’night, Bin.”

And if either of you woke up cuddling the other, not a word was mentioned to the other boys.