#depression might be kicking my ass but it's only left me with bruises

[cloudcountry]

guys im so sorry depression and evil thoughts have been kicking my ass again and ive come to the realization that i will always have to live with them. not fun but i am going to sleep now so hopefully i feel better in the morning.

#if you guys are going through the same thing this time of year #because i know it's a tough part #you're not alone #this is a safe space for you #i know im very vocal about my emotions even though i don't have to be #but it's because it's so important to talk about it #i just have to get through finals and i'll be okay again #but right now im not and i think it's alright to admit that #anyways. i'll stop saying all the things i can't say irl on here #and let you guys know that i love you #depression might be kicking my ass but it's only left me with bruises #those heal so i'll be alright #auburn's rambles <3 #tw depression #tw mental health

[jacksprostate]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The five days Tyler's stolen my voice from me, I spend watching. The commons, group therapy. I visit my cave with my eyes open. Mills should get used to the cold. I've heard if it drops below 50 while your respiration is this depressed, you go to sleep and never wake up.

Valley of the Dogs.

An orderly with fresh bruises peppering his temple lets me take my walk in the same time Mills is carted around. This is how I must've looked for months. Glazed. Drooling. At this point they probably have to use elephant tranquilizers on me, the tolerance I've built.

God, his petty ass, we meet up for one on one and he says he has to give me some bad news.

No, it's not about Mills.

Tyler, whatever.

He is giving me the bad news, of the passing of one Marla Singer. Everyone seems to think this is bad news. Found dead in her apartment because she didn't pick up any Meals on Wheels for her neighbors for three weeks, and they worried about those little old ladies, up there all starving alone since their angel in black stopped showing up.

Her corpse was found, instead. I imagine it all waxy, tits rotted off just like she said, at some point you're so sick even the bacteria in your gut won't bother decomposing you. I imagine Marla's skin pulling back, fleeing, away from her eyes, her teeth, like a mummy. Dried out as all her collagen rots.

Paper clutched in her hand. A will, sort of hasty and half-assed.

Marla's many worldly possessions all fit on a hotel notepad.

Many other worthless things go to a small number of worthless people Marla has mentioned leaving behind in her life, and god says, Marla Singer has left me something.

That's the entire reason I get to know all of this.

If not, I would've never known.

The world could blow up, and you'd never know in here unless it was in someone's will to tell you.

Marla Singer left me her dildo.

Oh, Marla.

Addressed me in the will half the time as Tyler.

I wonder, did the cancer spread from her tits to her brain, like the cancer I didn't have. It's everywhere now. God says they're working out treatment. I wonder if it matters.

Without Tyler between us, I don't really know what connected me and Marla.

What kept her calling.

I liked her. Another psycho boyfriend in her stories. There will never be another, unless she's gone to Heaven, the real one, and they've got some sort of exchange program going on for her to have fun with.

I think Marla might deserve that. She deserved better than this.

I wonder if it was pills. There was no Tyler to save her, this time. No one to listen to her death rattle. I don't have the voice to ask.

I won't be getting her dildo, because you don't get possessions in a psych ward. It'll get dumped in some other landfill to persist for time immemorial with all the other plastic iconography of our stupid, stupid lives.

Released back out to pasture, I watch Mills. His wife was murdered. Murdered, you see, it's an action, and it's solvable. Mills solved it.

You can't solve the slow death. Not really.

I think about how empty Mills is.

Am I empty?

An unidentifiable amount of time ago, Marla called me again, and she told me all about what happens at the new support groups she goes to, since I ruined the old ones for her. They were willing to rally behind her for the whole blowing my brains out show, and she only would've had to wait them out for six months or so, but she decided to just find new ones. A new church, with new temptations like Living With Angels, a group for those caring for severe dementia patients, and Recovery Road: a program for those trying to rebuild their lives after a loved one blew them up. She said, when I got out, we could both go to that one, and I could talk about Tyler, and she could talk about me, and we could have fun getting kicked out together.

Marla was always talking about that. When I got out.

I wasn't ever hearing any of it.

Mills, they've let up on him, finally, you can see his eyeballs aren't floating with all they've juiced him up on. He's watching me, back.

I wonder if he knows about Marla.

Would Tyler care?

Tyler had said, don't call this love.

Does it need to be?

When I get my voice back, I bury my thoughts on the subject and Marla and everything in a relentless campaign to needle Mills until he looks like a voodoo doll in a shitty tourist trap.

#fight club #my writing #se7en (1995) #se7en #something smth destabilizing parallel event #i always think abt how marlas time is limited. another thing i hate abt chucks sequels. they do what the movie does and just ignore her own #shit?? #anyway the narrator doesn't know how to handle this because his little rat ass could barely handle how he felt about marla on a good day #if this seems like it came out of the blue. i alluded to it earlier haha #this is like 3k now and i have 2k notes... oopsie

[shadyteacup]

Congrats on 300 followers! You really deserve it cuz you're so talented and amazing. Can I request a angst prompt 11 with dazai thank you ❤️

Hola amigo! Thanks sm :D

Here's some sad angst... n no, it doesn't have a fluffy end... :(

Osamu Dazai + “Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it.”

Warnings: Angst, strong language. || Word count: somewhere around 1600, ig..

Get Out

You were an observant person. You were pretty sharp and thoughtful. You weren’t dumb. In fact, you were smarter than the average John or Jane Doe. You never ignored any signs or forewarnings that your brain threw at you. You always reported if something seemed fishy. You have never ignored someone’s wrong doings before.

But then again, there’s a first time for everything.

Sighing, you opened the door for your boyfriend.

“Hey.”

You said as you turned around almost immediately, ignoring his smile. Walking inside, you sat back at your desk, resuming your work.

Dazai stepped in, confused and worried. He had a lot on his mind as of late. He had to maintain a perfect balance between home and work, and it was taking a toll on his wellbeing. He hoped it wasn’t affecting your mental state. Maybe seeing him depressed all the time was lowering your spirits? He dearly hoped that wasn’t the case, for he was trying really hard to relieve his stress before coming home. He tried his best to stay happy and come home with a smile.

He threw his coat on the couch, kicking his shoes off and getting himself a glass of water. He was tired and parched.

As he gulped down the heavenly liquid, he observed you from the corner of his eye. You were staring at the screen, hands frozen above the keyboard. You were thinking about something. It worried him. Your random zone out sessions made him question his behaviour. Was he being rude or mean to you? Was he the cause of your constant worry?

“Y/N?”, he called out to you, trying to get you to snap out of it.

You flinched slightly, peering at him through your lashes.

“Hmm?”

He walked over to hug you from behind, but you got up, effectively avoiding him.

“What’s wrong?”

He furrowed his brows, reaching out to grab onto your sleeve.

You froze at the contact.

“Why don’t you get changed? We can have dinner then.”

Dazai held onto you, determined to get an answer out of you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you ignoring me?”

“I ordered Thai food today. Its from that new restraint around the corner. Riddhi really recommends it.”

“Stop ignoring me. And who’s Riddhi?”

“My friend. You haven’t met her.”

You tried pulling out of his grasp, but he pulled you forward, holding onto both your arms, now.

“Look at me. Y/N.”

You sighed, avoiding his gaze.

“Why don’t you get changed? I’ve picked out a shirt for you. It’s on the bed.”

Dazai was fed up with your aloof behaviour. You had been acting strange and distant for weeks now. Everyday was the same. He would come home to you acting weird, you would ask him to change, and only then would you let him touch you. He was tired of this bullshit. He had tried asking you politely and patiently, but every time you evaded his questions. He was done with beating around the bush.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? What the hell have I even done?!”

He shook you, trying to pry an answer from you.

“Answer me! Tell me! What is it? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out. But you must tell me first. You have to speak. Say something!”

You ignored him, looking down at the carpeted floor.

Dazai sighed, letting go of your arms.

“Do you even care about us?”, he asked you.

“Tell me you don’t want to leave. Say I’m enough to make you stay. I know it’s not true, but please just say it”.

You whispered.

Dazai stared at you, confused.

“Of course, you’re enough. Tell me if you care. Do you even love me?”

You stepped back, trying to control your emotions.

“You’re the one going around fucking others. Unlike you, I actually care, Dazai.”

You whispered, afraid to look him in the eye. It had been weeks since you had smelled that perfume on him. It was sweeter than his own but had a musky undertone to it. That, paired with the random marks all over his body, was enough to convince you that he was having an affair. He was smart; he had tried subduing the perfume by carrying his own cologne with him and reapplying it after the deed was done. Whoever he was with probably supported him, as they always bit near the marks you had left. Your marks and their marks coincided.

Only you knew which marks were fresh and which were old. They didn’t know this, and often nipped at partially healed skin, reviving the bruise and giving it a nasty purple hue. That was a clear indication.

What disgusted you is that the person Dazai was sleeping with knew that he was cheating on his partner, and was supporting him by playing along with his plans.

The extra hours were also a clear give away. You had even called Yosano and Kunikida to ensure that the agency had called it a day. Both of them had told you that everyone had left the office, while your boyfriend claimed to be in a client meeting with Kunikida.

It was laughable how incompetent he considered you to be. Did he really think his half assed attempts at covering up would fool you?

“What the hell are you saying-”

“Don’t act dumb. I’m not stupid, you know that.”

Dazai continued his act, hoping to prove you wrong by putting it all on you.

“I’m a loyal partner, Y/N. Just because I’ve been having more work load lately, doesn’t mean you go around assuming shit about me. I honestly thought you were better than this.”

You sighed, finally meeting his gaze.

The dead look in them proved to him that he was caught. He could not do anything to fool you. You knew.

“It started three weeks ago, on Monday. You went to work at eight, came home around eleven. Work hours end at 6. You were smelling different. It was distinct. You never wear perfumes that have a sweet undertone.”

You stared at him dead in the eye, shutting him up with your gaze. He would not dare to come up with stupid excuses. Not with you looking at him like that.

“You had a hickey on your neck, on a spot that I hadn’t covered. You tried covering it up with makeup, but it wore off pretty quick. Ever since then, you have been visiting your secret friend daily. I’m guessing you go at least three rounds, since you come home so tired.”

“That’s just disgusting!”

“I thought so too. But it does tire you, doesn’t it? That’s the reason you come home so worn out. You go around having sex, and you’ve been trying to hide it from me for three weeks now. Tell me I’m wrong.”

His lack of reaction and the look of guilt plastered all over his face was as loud as a confession.

“Whoever it is, is blonde.”

He looked at you shocked.

“How-”

“I found strands all over your coat.”

He rubbed his forehead with his palm.

“You like them, don’t you? Its not just physical, is it?”

You asked with a sad smile.

“How do you know all this?”, he asked, devastated at the fact that you knew everything going on.

“I know you too well. I actually paid attention to our relationship. I cared.”

He ran a hand through his messy locks. He had been so stressed lately, he had to find an outlet. He wasn’t one to stay in any relationship for long, but he actually cared about you. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, which is why is never broke up with you. He was bored of the thing you both shared, but he knew that you cared. So, he pretended to be equally invested.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because I wanted to continue this thing for as long as I could. But not anymore. I’m done.”

He widened his eyes at you. He had not expected you to end this. He might have been bored, but he still cared for you. He loved you. He didn’t want to let go yet.

“Y/N, we can work this out. Please don’t leave.”

He begged you, trying to come closer to you. You stepped back.

“Please don’t. I can’t handle your smell. That scent repels me.”

He gasped, finally realising why you didn’t let him touch you.

“The perfume is a constant reminder of my...”

“Yeah.”

“And you tolerated all that, for so long. All for us.”

You nodded, turning away.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore. Thanks to your intense questioning, I’m finally free.”

“It doesn’t have to end, Y/N! We can work this out!”

“No, we can’t. I’m not enough for your boredom, and I’m not willing to become someone else just to please you.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please don’t- ”

You smiled bitterly at him, before opening the door of your apartment, signalling to him.

“Get out, and only come back to get your stuff. Goodbye, Osamu.”

This story features one of my close friends, Riddhi. I had fallen short of names to use n though why not write about an actual friend? She's not on tumblr, unfortunately. Damn I miss going out with her... anyways, hope u liked it! N sorry for the rant :p

#shady☕ #shadyteacup event #shadyteacup #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai x reader #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd x reader #☕ says #kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs angst #bsd angst #hanimehub #bsd imagines #bsd anime #dazai angst #osamu dazai angst #bsd dazai #dazai bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai san #dazai+x+reader #dazai osamu x reader #bungou sd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

[shedobewritingalittle]

As The World Caves In

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve deals with the loss of his wife after the Snap.

Rating: R?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Grief, depression, feelings of loneliness, death, graphic depiction of a death

A/N: hi yes I wanted to get this out before TFATWS got out. I have never liked the ending Steve got in Endgame, so I wanted to write a new one for him!

Steve would like to say that he lost his wife like everyone else did that day.

He would love to say that she turned into ash like the rest of his teammates. He would love to say that they had some tear-filled goodbye before she turned into nothing. He would love to have that hope that might be able to come back.

But he can't.

Because she actually died that day in Wakanda. Right before his eyes.

It had happened after Thanos had tossed Steve aside. Y/N had charged at the Titan, angry at the purple being for hurting her husband. He caught her in mid-air, his golden gauntlet shimmering in the sunlight as it wrapped tightly around her throat. Steve had scrambled to stand up, his eyes on her.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, her face turning colors as she kicked, her fingers trying to pry the large gold covered fingers off of her throat. And while it felt like hours for Steve, it had only been seconds. Seconds. Seconds he had held her in their air, seconds she had suffered as the Titan cut off her oxygen. Thanos had smirked before tightening his grip, a sickening crack filling the air. Steve couldn't breathe as her body was tossed towards him. It seemed to move in slow motion, bouncing when it hit the ground.

When her body finally came to a stop in front of him, her head lolling to the side as the cloud of dust settled. Steve still had hope somehow. He prayed to the Lord above as he looked at her, hoping that she was somehow still alive. Blood vessels had burst in her eyes and blood trickled out of her mouth. There was a darkening bruise on her throat, her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Steve had been unable to move, unable to breathe. Within an instant, she was gone. His wife, the love of his life, ripped away from him in mere seconds.

And then his friends and teammates turned into ash all around him.

The worst moment of his life was when he watched his wife die right in front of him. The second worst is having to tell her brother that she was dead.

After Tony had come down the ramp of the ship, Steve had ran over to help him down that last view steps and over to Pepper. Stark told Steve that Peter was gone and in that moment of silence that followed, Tony's eyes scanned the small group of survivors for his adopted sister. Tears sprung up in the man's eyes as he looked back at Steve. The Captain's throat constricts with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes as he just nods, unable to get the words out. Pepper ran up in that moment, wrapping her arms around Tony just as tears rolled down his face.

Y/N is the only one they actually bury. Her funeral is a quiet affair, with only the remaining members of their team and Pepper in attendance. The couple had never talked about what might happen or what they would want if either of them died. Tony tells him that she would want to be buried next to their parents, so she is. He makes sure his baby sister has the best coffin money can buy, the best headstone-everything. Her funeral is the last time Steve and Tony talk to each other.

Steve gets an apartment she would have loved. It's right around the corner from the restaurant where they had their first date and a few streets away from the cemetery. There was those big windows that Y/N had always expressed fondness over. The apartment also had built in shelves that lined one wall of the living room area, which had been another selling point for him. One day Steve hoped that he would be able to fill them with her many books and tchotchkes, but now they stood empty, the shelves gathering dust. Her collection of novelty mugs weren't in the cabinets, no they were still wrapped up in newspapers within one of the many boxes. He had planned on unpacking all of the things that had once filled their shared room at the compound, but the boxes stay in the second bedroom, all piled up in the middle of the room. He couldn't find it in himself to go through all of her old things, didn't want to be bombarded with emotions and memories.

That first year is the hardest. Learning to live without her tears him to shreds. Steve hardly sleeps, hardly eats. He spends a lot of his time alone, dwelling over what he could've done differently. Natasha tries to reach out to him, but Steve distances himself. He tells himself that he needs to do this alone, needs to try to get through it by himself. Y/N always feels like she's just out of his grasp and he prays and begs to have her back with him. His prayers go unanswered.

Natasha appears outside his door on the one year anniversary of Thanos's snap and Y/N's death, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and Asgardian mead in the other. They sit together in the kitchen and drink as vigils and memorials take place around the world. For the first time, Steve talks about how much he misses his wife. The two heroes talk all night about each person they missed, both of them wondering aloud how were they supposed to live without them.

By the end of the second year, Steve is getting used to living without her. He hates it. He hates how much that ache in his chest has lessened. He hates that he can see a picture of her without a lump forming in his throat. Steve is able to talk about her more and starts a grief support group. Sure he sometimes wakes up and hopes she's there, but that's getting less and less frequent. Steve's afraid that his memories of her are going to slip away from him, terrified of forgetting her.

So he starts to draw her. He's desperate to hold onto every memory of her, so he fills up page after page, sketchbook after sketchbook of nothing but Y/N. The drawings aren't perfect, but he is able to cement those memories in his mind. Steve wants to make sure that he can remember her face without having to study a picture. So when he remembers something about her, he puts it onto a piece of paper. Y/N on their wedding day. Y/N when they were on the run and she fell asleep in the Quinn Jet. Y/N brushing her teeth early in the morning, her silhouette lit up by the almost golden bathroom light. Y/N the first day they met.

Natasha sees them once when she stops by to see him. One of the sketchbooks is left open on the table and she sneaks a peek when Steve goes to the other room to get a sweater. There on the page in incredible detail is a sketch of her best friend with tears in her eyes, her mouth open in shock. She doesn't know that this is the face she made when she learned that Bucky had killed her parents and Steve knew. Natasha looks away, her cheeks burning. She feels like she saw something too personal, too raw, and she shuts the journal before Steve returns.

When the third, fourth, and then fifth year rolls around- well Y/N has been gone longer than they were together as a couple. Steve has gotten used to her being gone. He's able to walk past the room holding all of the boxes without stalling. It gets easier to talk about her, easier to share stories about her to his group. He still misses her, it's just easier for him to live now. His wedding band never leaves his ring finger, needing to have a part of her with him always. Steve still loves her and he doesn't think he can ever love someone as much as he loves his wife.

And then Scott Lang reappears.

Steve wants to reverse what Thanos did, wants to bring back his friends even if that means he cannot bring back his wife. That ache in is chest returns as they put together their heist plan. Steve feels like there's a ghost following him around while he's back at the compound. His shoulders feel heavy again and he tries to put on a brave face as the people around him get hopeful. He tries to be happy, knowing that he will be getting his friends back and fixing what had happened, but he can't help but be upset.

-

Steve gets to see her when they go back.

It's after he knocks out the younger version of himself. Steve is standing over himself, breathing hard, and holding Loki's scepter tightly in his hands.

"That is America's Ass." He comments, looking behind him before back down to the unconscious man. He needs to meet back up with the others so that they can-

"It definitely is." A familiar voice calls out from in front of him. Steve stills, his breath catching in his throat before he slowly lifts his head. There she is, standing before him with a smirk on her face. Y/N is dressed in her navy blue suit, her hair messy from the battle she just went through. Her face is dirty, her lip split and there is a long cut across her cheekbone. His mouth goes dry and he's suddenly tongue tied, like he was when they first met.

Steve remembers how nervous and awkward he was when they were first introduced to each other. Y/N gave him a million dollar smile and just like that, he knew he was a goner. Steve had stumbled over saying his name, which had then made her laugh-God, that laugh. That laugh had made him warm all over, made butterflies swarm around in his stomach. And in the past five years, those butterflies had been dormant and now, now they're wide awake.

"You're not my Steve." Y/N announces as she walks towards him, studying him. Steve's heart is beating fast and he wants to reach out and hold her close, wanting to tell her how much he loves her. My Steve. God, he misses her. He misses everything about her.

"How can you tell?" He asks, a tiny smile appearing on his face. Y/N chuckles, taking seeing two Steve's surprisingly well. But then again, she had just got done fighting aliens and a literal god so he supposes that things have been weirder.

"My Steve won't even look me in the eye. He blushes when I look at him. When I look at you...you just look so sad. That's how I know you're not Loki." She answers, stopping in front of him. Steve studies her face, taking in every little detail because he knows that this is the last time he'll see her.

"I-I'm that easy to read, huh?" Steve retorts and she laughs again, nodding. God, he misses that sound. He misses her so fucking much that it makes his chest ache. Y/N's smile falters as she looks at him, watching as his smile drops.

"I'm not going to pretend what is exactly going on here, okay? Obviously you are going through something and it's pretty clear you are on a some type of mission." She tells him, motioning to the scepter in his hands. Steve looks down to his hand before looking at her. He knows that she should be calling for back up because by the way people keep speaking through her comm Y/N must know that things are going south.

"I'll bring it back, I promise." Steve replies and the smile returns to her face. Y/N glances down to the unconscious man on the floor before looking at him.

"I know you will. I never saw you, new Steve. And don't worry, I'll make sure you don't choke on your tongue." She teases, gesturing to the passed out version of himself. Steve's smile returns to his face as she continues, "But I do expect some sort of explanation when you come back."

"Of course. I'll be back before you even know I was gone." Steve says, wanting to say so many other things that he knows that he just can't tell her. He opens his mouth again when her comm once again crackles to life. Y/N's eyes widen and she gestures for him to leave. Steve's mouth snaps shut and he nods, quickly walking away.

Tony would later tell Steve when they're in 1970 that he started crying when he saw his little sister.

-

When his teammates return on the battlefield, she isn't among them. He knows she won't be coming through a portal, but some part of him still holds out hope for some reason. Yet, there is no sadness inside of him on that battlefield. No, rage has pushed all of that sadness aside, filling him up completely.

When he fought against Thanos and his army, he did so with every ounce of strength in his body. Steve wanted to avenge the death of Y/N, wanted to kill Thanos for what he did to her. Steve has never felt so angry in his entire life. He wanted to be the one who ended the Titan's life. He ignored the large gash in his arm and tore through aliens.

And in the end, it's Tony who takes out Thanos. He is the one who avenges his baby sister's death, but the price he pays his high. And Steve has to watch another Stark die.

He feels so guilty that he is alive and both of the Stark siblings are gone, both of them buried side by side, right next to their parents.

There is just so much death in his life, so much damn loss. And he's tired. Steve is exhausted. He hoped that bringing back his friends and the half of the universe that had disappeared because of the Snap would make him feel better, but it hadn't. No, instead that hurt has returned with full force. His chest feels like its about to cave in on itself, like his ribs piercing his lungs and heart-God, everything seems unbearable. All he wants is for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

And then, he is reminded that he has to return the stones.

And while every single part of the journey is noteworthy, he saves returning the scepter for last.

Y/N is sitting beside the unconscious version of himself when he returns. She turns his head to look at him, a smile on her face. For a moment, he considers staying here with her, reliving every single moment of their life and their relationship as it happens.

But he knows that he can't.

It wouldn't be right for him to stay here with her, knowing everything that he knows. Steve has had his time with her, time that he will treasure for the rest of is life. He knows that if he returns back to his timeline, there will be a lot of hurting that he will have to go through. Steve knows that it would be so much easier to stay here with Y/N, but he won't let himself do it.

So Steve explains to Y/N why he needed the scepter, leaving out her death and the death of her brother. After he finishes, she stays quiet for a moment, processing all of this new information. He just waits and sits there.

"Don't tell me what happens, please. I want the cards to fall where they may. I-I want to be surprised." Y/N tells him suddenly, glancing at the unconscious man before looking at Steve. The Captain understands exactly what she means. She must know somehow that she ends up with him, something on his face his showing his hand. Y/N had always told him that he had a shitty poker face. A smile stretches across his face, nodding. His wedding ring-hidden under his gloves-feels so much heavier, like its weighing his arm down.

A pit of dread opens up in Steve's stomach as his time draws to an end. He thanks and apologizes to Y/N as he hands over the scepter. She just smiles, telling him not to worry about it as she puts it back into its case. He must look as upset as he feels because before he leaves, Y/N wraps her arms around him. It surprises Steve, but he quickly wraps his arms back around her. Steve holds her tightly, letting his eyes shut. He knows that this will be the last time he'll ever hold her and he just savors it, wishing that it could last forever. Wishing that he could stay here forever.

But everything has to come to an end.

When he says goodbye, he knows that Y/N doesn't understand that this is him saying goodbye to her for the last time. Steve finally gets to tell her goodbye and even though he isn't able to tell Y/N how much he loves her, it's okay. It's okay because he will be able to tell her how much he loves her one day, even if that day isn't today. They'll be reunited again. He just needs to wait.

She tells him goodbye and he takes one final look at her before he returns back to his timeline, back into a world where she's gone.

That night, he returns to his empty apartment, the silence almost deafening. That hole in his chest has reopened and he is in so much pain that everything just feels numb.

He goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, washing the day's events off of him hoping that this would also wash away the numbness, trying to pretend like nothing of importance had happened hours earlier. When he crawls into the same bed he has been sleeping in for the past five years-a bed she has never touched-he realizes how empty it is without her. He can't feel her here like he can at the Compund-No, here she doesn't follow behind him. No, this is a place she has never been so she can't be here. The apartment is suddenly too big for him-everything is too big for him. It's too big and too empty and too fucking quiet-

It's like the string that was holding him together the past five years has finally snapped and he just starts crying. The Captain's body shakes with sobs as he lays in that empty room. Steve had thought he had processed her death and grieved already, but he hadn't. Until this very moment, it had never fully set in that Y/N was dead. It was never fully real that she was gone. He knew that she was, but some part of him was still holding out hope that somehow she was going to come back. If Bucky could come back, surely she could have as well. But Y/N isn't Bucky and so she never came back.

It took until today for him to fully realize that she was gone. Y/N was gone and there was nothing he can do about it. There was no stones to gather, no traveling through dimensions for him to do. Steve had to live the rest of his life without the love of his life, in a time where he'll never belong in. That small flicker of hope that had been silently living inside of him had been snuffed out, leaving an empty dark space inside of him, leaving him cold and empty.

The only hope that remained is that they would be reunited one day in death, but until then Steve would be forced to carry around his pain where ever he went.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

[mydisasteracademia]

Random LOV Headcanons

• Repeating something from my book “Did My Time”, due to the damage to Dabi’s body, he needs to use eyedrops multiple times a day. The amount depends on whether or not he uses his Quirk a lot; if he uses it more, he’ll need to practically drown his eyes with special medicated eyedrops to help with the dry-eye.

Adding onto this, due to his body’s natural affinity for the cold, he prefers cold things more than hot, because he has a worse reaction to hot/spicy things compared to other people (just like his mother). Yes, this means I HC him to absolutely never get brain freeze. The others are always jealous of him whenever he chugs a Slurpee in one go.

His burnt, scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially to scents and scented lotions. He’s found that ointment works to keep things moist, but that also means he needs to be constantly re-applying it every time it dries, given that his Quirk is constantly drying out his skin to the point of damage. Every time his staples tug, even a little, it’s really painful and he’s prone to bleeding.

He does have a bit of a protective instinct, but only over those he deems weaker than him (and let’s be honest, he already has a lot of trouble with his own self-image, so that list might be shorter than you’d think). Definitely has an ‘irritated older sibling to hyperactive younger sibling’ relationship with Toga once they start to get closer. Gets unnecessarily competitive with others he considers stronger than himself, even if he himself doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing.

Due to his Quirk being dangerous to himself, he can smell off, and he gets very touchy about it. Having grown up in a wealthy family, he can get very insecure at his bedraggled appearance and smell. He literally smells like burnt flesh all the time, and it lingers on his own body and his clothing. Due to this, he always hits up a laundromat to wash his clothes a few times a week, using money he’s picked off of wealthier victims of his. Really lays on the cologne to mask his natural corpse smell (and usually ends up smelling like pine trees, smoke, and something vaguely rotting).

Dabi is incredibly touch-starved, given that most people look at him and recoil in horror. He’s more like a cat, though. If you give him too much attention, he gets annoyed, but if he happens to rest his arm on your head or shoulder, that’s his way of subtly asking for positive attention. Depending on who’s doing it, he won’t immediately shove someone away if they decide to hug him. He’s a bit iffy with touch, and the fear of accidentally hurting someone he’s close to with his own Quirk messes with his head a lot. He can be a bit of an attention whore, given his fucked-up childhood, and when he gets praise it can put him in a good mood for a while. He really internalizes negative attention and can brood about not being good enough for a long time though. Won’t admit it, but he lives for headpats. Please give him headpats. He deserves headpats. Just watch out for the hair dye.

• Shigaraki’s Quirk does affect his body, though not by quickly decaying him like he does other things. Instead it’s more of a ‘slow-burn’ decay, and his constant itching is one side-effect of that. Since his body is constantly breaking down (his scratching gets rid of a lot of dead skin on the surface), his skin is incredibly sensitive and he can’t use most face/skin products because it damages him even more and he reacts horribly to it. So far he hasn’t found a brand that can help with his marred skin. Adding to this, he can’t stand spicy foods because it aggravates his decaying body.

Since his body is in a constant state of death and dying, this means he can smell off on even good days. It could be described as musty or ‘stale’, and since he’s extremely sensitive to scents and lotions/creams, he can’t exactly just use any old cologne to mask it.

Sometimes his throat gets super dry and he chokes on debris from his own mouth and throat. He needs to constantly hydrate to keep things from getting a bit too dusty. This means he prefers wet/moist foods over dry, and if he eats anything dry he’ll have a drink to go with it. At Kurogiri’s insistence, he always has a few bottles of water in his room at a time so he doesn’t have to get up in the night to go to a working sink for a drink.

This boy is so touch-starved. Whenever someone of the League hugs him, he acts huffy about it, but he doesn’t shove them off (unless it’s Dabi giving him a noogie, then he threatens death, much to the taller one’s amusement). He secretly craves touching other people. He’s terrified of accidentally dusting someone he cares about again (his family’s deaths haunt his dreams more nights than not), but if someone hugs him he just kind of melts into it. Someone please hug this boy. He needs headpats and positive reinforcement.

• Spinner absolutely loves sunning himself on rocks during summer. Whenever the weather is hot and it’s sunny, if he has a day off you’ll find him chilling outside on a rock just soaking up the sun.

Adding onto this, he really loves humid, hot weather. While the rest of the League (especially Dabi) is suffering, he’s just vibing with the weather.

And he sheds. Usually a few times a year, but it’s not uncommon to see large swaths of translucent white patches left behind. This can annoy the League, but to his credit, Spinner tries to keep it on the down-low. More than once he’s tried inconspicuously rubbing his arm or cheek against Shigaraki to try and help get the dead skin off. (He gets really irritated, but it helps with the itching a bit, so he doesn’t really complain unless he’s trying to concentrate on something.)

• Compress will casually swipe up random items that the League leaves around and later might give them back depending on what it is. The other members can get varying levels of annoyed at this, but they don’t get too beat up about it considering Compress’s Quirk and personality. (This is how Toga lost her favorite lip gloss. She didn’t stop pouting for a week until Twice bought her another one.)

When he gets anxious or bored, he often resorts to simple hand tricks to keep himself entertained: fiddling around with his marbles, practicing simple card tricks, or practicing magic.

• Toga loves horror. Almost any horror. Especially guro. During movie nights with the League, as long as the movie has some form of mutilation and/or blood, she’s giving it her full attention. Adding to this, she really loves anything written by Junji Ito and has read Tomie about twenty times. Despite this, she has a soft spot for cutesy things and her aesthetic is Gurokawa. She definitely has a Gloomy Bear plush or two.

She definitely has a fondness for beauty products, given that she’s still just a normal girl despite her Quirk. This fact can make her really insecure, and she’s prone to depressive episodes just like anyone else in the League where she does herself up real pretty just to try and feel more ‘in tune’ with her femininity and less like the monster her parents saw her as. Magne helped with this a lot in the past, but now that she’s gone she relies more on the others to help cheer her up.

She is not above forcing the other League members into spa days. Shigaraki is the only one who doesn’t have to get a facial, though she does insist on painting his nails and doing his hair.

• Kurogiri’s mist/fog can get blown away quicker than he can create more, but only by a very strong wind. It’s hilarious. Shigaraki can’t stop teasing him for it.

Is not above using his Quirk to forcefully separate two squabbling parties, especially in the bar hideout.

When he’s bored, he does bar tricks, much to Toga’s delight.

Since quite a few League members are under drinking age, he always makes sure to have sparkling cider on hand.

He carries snacks and a first-aid kit every time the League goes out on a mission -- especially when it’s Shigaraki heading out. He really does care for the man and will be the first to hand him ointment whenever his skin gets really crumbly or damaged.

Has come to reluctantly see the League as people he worries for. That’s the closest to “hm yes these are my children now I must protect” that you’ll get.

He misses Magne for how sensible she could be. He appreciates Compress’s overall chill vibe and his being the voice of reason among their little group of mass murderers.

• Kurogiri and Magne were the League’s parental figures. You can’t fight me on this. (Kurogiri reluctantly, Magne enthusiastically.) Compress was more like the outgoing uncle that has a sense of humor nobody can really understand at first and was definitely a theater major in college.

• Shigaraki and Dabi love chicken nuggets. Every time someone brings home fast food, you can bet your ass they’ll have ordered like a fifty-piece chicken nugget meal from wherever sells that. Constantly have to deal with each other trying to swipe the other’s nuggets when they finish their own.

• Twice loves Vine compilations and can recite a worrying number of them from memory. He gets a kick out of the “A Bagel, Two Bagels” one for how much he relates to it.

• Before she died, Magne loved when Toga begged her to help her with makeup. It helped with her dysphoria when Toga would doll her up.

She loved window-shopping and imagining herself wearing some of the stylish clothes in shop windows.

Despite her cruel persona towards her enemies, Magne had a soft spot for elegant-cute things, kinda like Toga but a little less bloody.

• Muscular always challenges the other League members to arm-wrestling when he’s around. He always wins. The others have learnt not to accept his challenges, lest they want bruises/sprains.

• Mustard is very childish in his tastes. He loves chicken nuggets and mac n’ cheese. Provokes people by pulling his lower eyelid down and sticking his tongue at them. I can definitely imagine him muttering “Eat my shorts” or “Don’t have a cow, man” whenever another member is angry about something.

• In this household we pretend that Moonfish does not exist.

• If the League had Switches, you bet your ass they play Animal Crossing on them.

Toga would go for a ‘Aika Village’ aesthetic, all gloomy and creepy but with an undeniably cute element to it. Definitely wears pastels and gothic-themed clothing.

Shigaraki models his after his favorite RPG and hunts down NPCs that fit the personalities of the various characters. His favorite characters tend to be dogs. Will not hesitate to kick out any animal who fails his ‘vibe check’. Surprisingly, this game can calm him down almost as well as an RPG. Joycon drift is the bane of his existence.

Compress uses only the most glamorous, expensive items on his island. Outright refuses to use dirt paths. Uses only Snooty villagers.

Dabi wants his island to look the best and is uncharacteristically stern about how his island looks. Everything is very neat and streamlined (and he has an outdoor gym near his player’s home). Will physically fight anyone who tries to ruin it by littering or messing around on it. He has a rivalry with Compress about whose island looks the best.

Spinner doesn’t really care about how his island looks. He just wants to max out his encyclopedias. Shigaraki once caught him up at 3 AM because he was trying to catch a spider crab.

Kurogiri doesn’t play it that often, so his island is fairly undeveloped. Doesn’t really care about it, considering his responsibilities to the League overpower a video game.

Muscular doesn’t care about it at all and doesn’t play.

Mustard made his island look like something out of Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; a town area, a forest, and even a beach.

#lov headcanons #league of villains

[thevolturiarejustbetter]

Almost NSFW-Alec Volturi P2

Ava’s POV 

It didn’t kick in yet. Bella would probably kill me if she knew but it doesn’t take a mind reader to know that my dear sister was extremely anxious and worried. We walked down a long, beautiful elegant hallway after passing the “future maybe desserts.” I hoped for the gummies to kick in soon because if I was going to die, painfully might i add, in the hands of a fuckin governing-power-royalty-mosquitos-whatever the hell they were, there was no way in hell I was about to do it sober. Was I too young to die? yes. But do I really give a shit? Yes, I do and I really don’t want to die on an empty stomach, but then again I really don’t wanna be here so it’s not like we all have choice here.The jetlag was just too much and I honestly at this point was leaving it up to natural selection to just do its thing. My plan was to just shut my mouth, follow Bella, slap the shiny disco named Edward, and then one of the red eyes would probably snap my neck or something because apparently, according to Alice, Edward broke one of their most sacred laws. I just pray that Bella will be happy again and maybe not a total fuckin idiot for the rest of her future immortal life. As for the Edward guy, I’m pretty sure there’s like no hope left for him. 

 if you’ve lived for more than a century and STILL lack common sense, it’s just hopeless for you at this point bud. And don’t you dare tell her I took these gummies i was anxious the whole time and its literally a fuckin miracle that i managed to get these through customs, you owe me that much. I thought to myself        

The mind rapist turned around to give me one annoyed look, but I could see in his eyes that he was apologetic and worried. 

We quickly approached the grand wooden doors. There were guard lining up the doors. Alice randomly whispered, “theyre the lower guards, the replaceable ones” as if I had any idea what the hell she meant by that, but the lower guards were stone faced, I honestly thought they were sculptures until one of them bowed to jane and opened the wooden doors.

We were greeted by a dude with red eyes that looked exactly like jane except much taller and like all of them- pale as fuck. He smiled and came forward to greet Jane. 

“Jane” 

“Alec” she smiled for the first time and reached out to him. We stood awkwardly for a few seconds as they embraced and kissed each other on both cheeks. tf is this France? 

Alice blocked me from the view she seemed even more nervous than she was before, and the only vampires that could see me right now were the Demetri guy and the other one that was like 7 feet tall. The Alec boy suddenly stopped smiling and sniffed as if he was smelling something new. He quickly recovered and started to talk again

“And this is the cause of all the trouble?” 

“dibs” someone said and Edward started to growl. 

They passed another set of doors that were entirely gold and approached another set of plain wooden doors

Then it finally started to kick in. I sighed a breathe of relief. My plan was working. There were three vampires in the middle of the room, all of them in their 20s-late 20s. But I started losing focus and depended on Alice who was next to me for physical and emotional support. 

third POV

“They have another human with them. Brother this is absolutely ridiculous. It is clear that the Cullens have absolutely no respect towards us.” Caius hissed in disbelief

That was when every pair of eye in the throne room was on the other human. The other human looked young and shared no resemblance with the original human causing the trouble. The depressed king suddenly sat up. He had seen something he was not prepared for. One of their Elite guards had finally found not only his bloodsinger but also his true mate, that happened to be human and none other than the Bella Swan’s sister.

Alec felt like he was floating. Never in his 3,000 years of being an immortal had he expected to ever find a mate or a bloodsinger. But here he was. He had found both. The tired looking human was absolutely breathtaking in his eyes. He could every detail of her face. He ached to be close to her. At this point everyone had noticed his stance. 

Jane and Caius were showing confusion on their flawless cold faces, as Aro and Marcus started to exchange hands. Edward,Bella, and Alice tensed up,even more, unsure of what was going to unfold. Suddenly, a childlike yet angelic laughter echoed throughout the room. 

“Oh my, I absolutely adore happy endings. Not only is Bella Swan alive but her younger  sister seems to be the mate and bloodsinger of our dear beloved Alec.” The man with the raven black hair rejoiced giddily, his hands together. 

“La tua Cantante” 

Ava POV 

I was feeling high but clearly not enough because I was still well aware of my surroundings. The vampire with his raven black hair slicked back said something in italian  La tea cans … Cans? Edward was soon by my side in attempts to reassure me and calm down my anxiety. He opened his mouth carefully as if he was thinking carefully about what he was about to say next.

“Alec over there is..he’s your mate.” he mumbled but it was enough for me to hear. 

“What?” I answered bluntly almost close to yelling.  When edward looked down and failed to answer, instead of turning to Alice I did the logical mature thing I could think of.

Third POV

Slap

Ava slapped edward in the back of his head over and over again. Her sister and Alice were just watching helplessly and hopelessly as Ava poured out all her anger. Her hands were severely bruised at this point but because of the effect of the gummies and her rage she could give less than two shits. 

“YOU FUCKIN IDIOT. MAKING MY SISTER DEPRESSED FOR 6 WHOLE MONTHS WASN’T ENOUGH HUH HUH? YOU DRAGGED MY ASS ALL THE WAY FROM NYC TO FUCKIN EUROPE AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE EVEN DOING?” this was the point where Ava didn’t care about the others in the room because she was probably gonna die anyways and since her gummies weren’t doing shit she felt the need  to take out her rage on the stupid depressed vegan 

After 10 continuous slaps her hand was literally turning into a purplish red so she looked towards the amused 7 feet giant

“Do your job and HIT HIM PLEASE-GODDAMN IT” 

In a split second the pixie haired vampire was next to Ava, taking off her glove and holding the human’s badly bruised hand. And before they all knew it soothing black mists surrounded them, surrounding Ava’s badly bruised hand.

Link to Part one

#alec volturi #volturi #the cullens #twilight #new moon

[91percentpynch]

if the world was ending - kevaaron au pt 6

we‘re slowly getting our happy ending i think? anyways shout out to the guys who sticked around ever since part one and encouraged me to publish the parts!! hope you enjoy this one as well! stay hydrated, eat something, feel hugged (or take a finger heart if you don‘t like physical contact) and know that i love you!! also this one‘s out of aaron‘s pov!!

the song of this part is if the world was ending by julia michaels and jp saxe

check this out for part 1-5

Aaron only planned to get to his dealer that night, just wanted the voices to stop, just wanted the feeling of numbness again

What he didn‘t want was landing in the hospital, but when did anything ever work out the way he wanted?

So when he was on the way to his dealer, tears clouding his vision, he didn���t see the stop sign. He didn‘t notice the truck. And that was how a truck landed in the passenger side of his car, Aaron losing consciousness and somehow waking up in the ER of Chicago Hospital

„We called your emergency contact, they said they would come as soon as possible honey“, a nurse told him.

What they apparently did not know was that his emergency contact was Nicky, who left him for Germany.

Aaron wasn‘t mad. He got it. Nicky gave up so much for him and Andrew, never getting the love he deserved, he did his best.

Plus Nicky would probably call Andrew his way so he wasn‘t alone until he got the first possible flight to sit by his side for a few days before returning to his picture book perfect family.

Aaron wasn‘t mad. He really wasn‘t. He just missed his cousin. The only constant in his life, the only good part in his family.

Having a twin brother is pretty nice as well - in theory as well. Until said twin brother refuses to talk to you. Until said twin brother chooses his stupid boyfriend over you. Until you realize said twin brother doesn‘t care about you.

But Aaron couldn‘t blame him. He wasn‘t interesting enough for anyone to care about.

Aaron slipped in and out of consciousness

„I can‘t get morphime, I‘m an addict“, he said in one of his moments of consciousness. Not that he would particulary mind getting morphime, he wanted to get high after all, but Kevin‘s stupid little voice wouldn‘t let him go. „Why do you only call me when you‘re high Aaron?“, Kevin‘s face when he came to see him earlier, the day they decided to go to rehab together as friends and it ended up as them falling in love

„That‘s alright honey, we got you“, the nurse replied.

The next time Aaron woke up after that was in a white room, alone in an uncomfortable bed. Alone with his thoughts because Nicky wouldn‘t be here for at least another day. His brother was somewhere with Josten. The only person he really wanted to see refused to talk to him. Which is understandable to be fair.

Taylor, fuck he needed to tell her where he was.

Aaron was just about to look for his phone when someone kicked his door open, hurriedly crossing the room to be close to him.

Slowly Aaron raised his eyes, looking who it was. Kevin fucking Day was in his fucking room.

„You fucking idiot, what have you done?“, Kevin was close to tears, for whatever reason. Obviously not for Aaron, right?

„I don‘t need your fucking pity“, Aaron replied, shutting himself down, it was safer that way.

„Did you tell them you can‘t have morphine? Because you might relapse, i mean you already did but we don‘t want it to get worse. And this is not pity, this is Nicky yelling at me in Spanish cause you‘re in the hospital and he‘s in Germany and I‘m the closest to you and he does not want his son to be alone“, Day ever so unimpressed by Aaron‘s walls replied.

Nicky worrying about Aaron that much made the blonde feel warm inside, important, loved.

Nonetheless Aaron couldn‘t stop thinking about the person that didn‘t care to show up.

„Andrew didn‘t care to come, did he?“, Aaron‘s voice was barely audible as he hid his face in his pillow, in case those traitous tears made their way down his cheeks.

„Andrw does care about you, he‘s just shit at showing it, that fucking asshole“, Kevin replied in a soft voice, Irish accent slightly audible, the voice he used when he‘s about to be emotional or scared or mad or overall feeling strongly. „C‘mon what have you done Minyard?“

Was that worry in his voice? Could it be that he actually cared? No, no that couldn‘t be. Not when refused to talk to him.

„Car accident, not that its any of your fucking business“, Aaron replied, trying his hardest to sound as if he didn‘t care that Kevin was there with him, trying to push Kevin away, to protect his heart from another rejection.

„How are you?“, Kevin said, his Irish accent becoming a little stronger, voice thick with worry. Worry? Why would he worry about Aaron?

„Fucking great, I should let a truck drive into me more often. Very freeing. Very calming“, Aaron answered sarcastically, looking anywhere but Kevin‘s smaragd green eyes, maybe even the green of the lake they used to go in rehab, in the fluroscent light of the hospital.

„A truck. Drove into you?“, the Irish accent was now so strong Aaron could barely make out the words.

Aaron couldn‘t take it anymore, he turned around. Maybe Kevin would take the hint that he wasn‘t able to be close to him, not without being hurt, not without feeling empty. „Not that you would care“, he said, voice barely more than a breath against the pillow.

„Aaron first of all I can see you naked ass and not that I wouldn‘t mind the view and I‘ve seen it often enough but the nurses don‘t have to see that too. And secondly of course I care. I always did. Always will“

Something about Kevin mentioning Aaron‘s naked ass made the blonde boy blush as he turned back towards Kevin. Aaron didn‘t even notice that those strangers undressed him. That made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

„Why wouldn‘t you listen to me if you care so much? You‘re exactly like like Andrew, you guys only ever care when I‘m about to die or do something that doesn‘t sit right with you. Never about me as a person. The conecept about me maybe, but me? Me as a person? No one cares about that“, Aaron replied to the earlier statement, because he wanted to hurt Kevin, wanted the other boy to leave him just like the rest, just like he deserved. Aaron didn‘t need empty promises and lies - God know he had enough of those in his miserable life. Aaron didn‘t need pity or words of comfort or kindness. Aaron didn‘t need Kevin Day. Unless he did.

„You are Aaron Minyard. Born on the 4th of November, 8:31:45 am. You grew up in California in the house next to Nicky. Nicky and you were always close and you didn‘t have many friends because of your mom. Your mom might have abused her and I might hate her for that but you still love her and I get that because on some fucked up level I still care about Riko. You are allergic to cats, peanuts and house dust. You have a freckle right on your right hip, under your navel, from under your left eye over to the nose to the corner of your right eye. You like it when you are hold when you can‘t sleep but you hate showing affection in public. You were 13 when you started exy, because it gave you an escape, but you had to stop because the bruises from your mother‘s beating got to obvious. So you started getting into medicine. You borrowed every single book on medicine you could find and read it at night, always hidden from your mom. You had to have straight As or the beatings would be worse. Your mom did go out to have ice cream with you when it was especially bad. That‘s why you hate ice cream so much, especially vanillia because it was her favourite. Your secret hobby is skating. You feel free when you do it. You want to live at the coast, but not close to Cali, never back to Cali. You want Andrew to notice you and you hate how easily he let Neil in because obviously deserve it more and I get that. You tried drugs to escape, to see what was the appeal. Your uncle never helped you but he brainwashed you into believing he did. You grew up very religous and in an extraordinary homophobic household, you watched your cousin and only friend getting shipped away because he was different, not right, so you confinced yourself you were different. Heterosexual. When in reality you knew since you were 15 that you preferred guys. You liked girls as well. At least you thought but it‘s so much more complicated. Actually it isn‘t. You‘re asexual, you do however like the feeling of sex. You think the process is disgusting, but you still like the feeling. It has to be the right person though. It doesn‘t matter wether it‘s a boy or a girl or something else entierly, all that matters are the feelings the person makes you feel. It took you years to accept that you are not wrong, that you wouldn‘t have to go away like Nicky. You apologized to Nicky. You thought you had to be against their relationships, because that‘s what they made you believe. Old habits die hard. But you got over it and I am very proud of you. You sleep with a teddybear or with another person that cuddles you because the thought of being alone scares the living crap out of you. Your favourite flowers are sunflowers because yellow is a happy color. You hate sweets, you prefer salty snacks. You prefer coffee black, like your sould. You use sarcasm and humor as your coping mechanism. You stole my history books because you love history as well. You also love art but you don‘t think you are good enought to become an artist. You would love to work at Jean‘s studio but you are afraid to ask. You and Jean used to be friends but you cut him off and isolated yourself because your anxities and insecurities took over you again. Sometimes you have depressive episodes, in these you crave drugs more than normally. You want to stop it, you really do but somehow your brain tries to tell you you need it. You would love to have five dogs. An Irish Red Setter, an Irish Wolfhound, a poodle a big one though, a labrador and a golden retriever. You also want to adopt at least two kids. You don‘t want any child to go through what you had to go through or Andrew. So don‘t you dare tell me I never cared for you. Because I do. I listen when you tell me things. I remember every single time you came to me, black out drunk, crying and telling me you‘re worthless. Because every single time I wanted to tell you you aren‘t. You are a wonderful human being and I don‘t understand why I wasn‘t enough for you to stay but I will not let you tell me I never cared about you. Because that‘s some fucking bullshit“

Whatever Aaron expected to happen it certainly wasn‘t that. No one ever payed attention to him. No one ever listened to what he had to say. No one ever showed him that they cared about him. No one ever payed enough attention to him to see that he was worth their attention.

„You really did listen“, Aaron said, quietly, not able to put his feelings into words.

Aaron Minyared was never good with words. Causing pain with them? Yes. Sarcastic comments? Sure. But declearations of love? Or a simple thank you? Or really anything that would fit this situation? No, Aaron couldn‘t do that.

„Why wasn‘t I enough for you?“, the voice with tears, words hidden behind the strong Irish accent, was what made Aaron look up. Looking up into eyes the color of the lake they used to go to in their summer spend in the rehab clinic, tears falling down his beautiful cheeks, uncontrollable and messy.

„You? Not enough?“, Aaron whispered, eyes locked with the taller boy, „I was not enough. I was never enough. Not for my mother. Not for Katelyn. And certainly not for the Queen of Exy. I was never a good enough player, I was never a good enough student, I was never a good enough person. You deserve the best. Someone that loves Exy the way you do, someone as passionate and beautiful and strong as you. Not a burden. Not a no one like me. You deserve the sun, things that are bright and warm and beautiful. Not some broken, poor trailer trash. Not some drug addicted wannabe doctor. Some who can give you the love you need. Not someone struggeling to accept themselves. Not someon who can‘t even look at themselves accepting that they fell heads over heels in love with a man, struggeling to accept that, thinking someone will come and beat the shit out of them because it‘s the only thing you know. I don‘t understand the yearning, I don‘t understand the wanting, I don‘t understand the pain your absence causes me. Because I was never loved. Not properly. I mean sure I know Nicky loves me, but that‘s different. You deserves someone who‘s not too fucked up to be able to show love, not someone so fucked up they don‘t even understand the concept of love. You deserve somoene who can give you things. I can‘t offer you anything. Nothing. Nothing but a heart screaming your name. Nothing but a mind you reign. And I am so fucking sorry I ever left you without saying goodbye. I am so fucking sorry for being a coward. It was never because I stopped loving you. In the contrast. It was because there was not a single day where I thought I was good enough for you. There was not a single day the little voice in my head would shut up about how you are way to fucking good for me. You deserve so much more than I can offer you. So much more“, Aaron‘s voice broke at the last more.

„This was never your choice to make. I am a grown up fucked up man, I can decide who I can and will love very good on my own and I know you never wanted to hear it. But I chose you. I‘ve been falling in love with you ever since I met you. Started with a cute little crush. Ended up here“, Kevin said coming closer and closer to Aaron. „You talk about being so fucked up, well guess what? So am I. I am sick and tired of being seen as the Queen of Exy, of being reduced to Exy and my past alcohol problem. It‘s like I am nothing but the stick in my hand. I am nothing but the sport my mother invented. I am not even a human being anymore. At least that was what I was told. Until I met you. You and your stupid sarcatic remarks. The thougt of you seeing me was enough for me to keep trying to impress you somehow, make you see something worth keeping. But it was never enough. It would never be enough for someone to stay“

„Kevin Day. Born on the 22nd February 1986. Excuse me I don‘t know the exact time but about 7:15 pm. Your favourite color is red, not the Ravens red, the deep dark red of the Trojans because you associate it with Jeremy Knox and he was some kind of fucking sun in the nest. You had something with Jean in the nest. Riko that absolute fucking asshole somehow found out and tried to force you to do terrible things to Jean. But you couldn‘t do it. Not because you are weak like you like to think, no because you are kind and have heart of gold. I can‘t believe I just said that I want to vomit. Eww. Anyways you have massive self-esteem issues because you either think you‘re a walking failure or you have a god complex and there is no fucking in between and I love that about you. You have a constellation of freckles on your back and a little tattoo on your left hip. It‘s a little sun and a little moon on the right. Because you love the sun because it‘s bright and warm and you like that. The moon is far away, it‘s cold and lonely. The sun is your mother. You are the moon. Over your heart you have your mother‘s signature tatooted. Because she watches over you and unlike mine you actually can associate nice things with her. You want to move to Ireland once you retire. Because you want to be closer to your mom. You have your whole ass wedding planned already, because you love planning events like that. It‘s like your fucking secret superpower. You think cows are adorable and you want to pet one so badly. You are scared of chickens and swans and ducks. You are lactose intolerant and you have sport indicated asthma. You don‘t like when other people touch your arms and your back. You like forhead kisses. You like holding hands. You like showing affection, but not in public because you‘re scared what people think of you. You pretend to be arrogant and an asshole but it‘s all just walls around yourself to protect you. Secretly you just want someone to see right through it. Unlike me you do actually paint and you love photography. I know you rented a secret little atelier. Your favourite historical period is the 20th centuriy and you are oddly obsessed with eastern european and Irish history. You love horses. You love cows. You want to do horse riding once. You try so very hard to be more than just Exy. Hyperfixations are your coping mechanism. And spontaniously buying like 10 books. You love reading. You love tea. Your favourite genere is in fact not historical fiction but fantasy fiction based on history. You love rambling about random historical facts and I loved listening to it. You love soft kisses more than the hungry ones. You hate that people want you for your body, not your personality. You hate being sexualized. You hate being an object. You hate your title. But at the same time you love it. You just want to make your mother proud. And your dad. Right now you‘re wearing your mother‘s ring around your neck. Wymack found it somewhere and gave it to you. You haven‘t put it down ever since. You want to paint your nails because you think it looks pretty but you worry too much what people would think about you. You listen to classical music. You play the violin and the piano. You learned it at Palmetto somehow. You learned it because your mother used to play the fiddle, said it made her think of Ireland somehow, and when you were sad she played you some Irish lullabies on it. You love the Irish culture. You love Ireland. And your biggest dream is to get married on one of Ireland‘s cliffs. Because the ocean calms you down. Helps your anxiety. In summer your face is covered in freckles and not only your face. Oddly. You actually love swimming. Or sitting at the water. Looking at it. You collect books. You collect stones. You collect whatever you think is beautiful. You also like collecting shells. You hate to label yourself but you always preferred boys. There are days where you feel more feminie, days where you feel more masculine and days where you feel like neither. Today is a masculine day I see. Jeremy made you braclets when you

told him you were like him. You feel terrible about leaving Jean back but you also know that it was necessary. You are strong and beautiful and I know you canno see that and I know you don‘t want to hear that. You are more than your body. You are so much more. And the only reason I was stupid enough to leave you was because I thought I was not good enough. And an unhealthy amount of internalized homophobia. I just hear my mother‘s voice inside my head when I hold your hand or kiss you and I hate that. The moment I had to sleep without you the voices grew louder and it didn‘t even take a week before I had to find a dealer. I called you when I was high because the voides were silent. I called you when I was high because admitting that I missed you and that I need you was easier than. The two to four hours I slept were filled with you. In my dreams you were with me. You kissed me. You held me in these ridicously strong hands. You were with me and the world was okay. And when I woke up and you weren‘t here I just didn‘t want to get up. My grades got worse because I wasn‘t able to concentrate without you. Yes I am able to funciton without you, it was just nice to have something good in my life once. And yes I will be able to keep it up without you. A B or C here and there won‘t hurt too much. I will probably be able to become the neurologist I want to be. I will get through life. It will just not be the same. It will just be grey and black and white. With you I had colors“

„That was hard for you to say right?“, Kevin asked, tears still silently running down his cheeks.

Aaron nooded, watching as Kevin‘s face came closer and closer until he could feel his breath against his cheeks.

He was about to ask someone as a loud knock was on the door and the door was opened rather aggressivly, making Kevin get away quickly.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #jean moreau #jeremy knox #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: jerejean #jerejean #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

[jenonctcity]

No Nut November - Jeno

Lee Jeno – Smut, Crack, Fluff

Warnings: Explicit content, a lot of mentions of penis’s, dirty talk, unprotected sex (be safe everyone!).

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: 00’s line take part in No Nut November.

The Rules of No Nut November:

You cannot have sex, masturbate, or nut in any way, shape, or form.

Watching pornography and having boners are allowed, but you can’t nut.

You are only allowed one wet dream. If you have more than one, then consider yourself out.

You do not have 3 strikes; you only have one shot at it. If you miss it, you’re out.

 If you have passed the month with a total of 0 nuts, you are a victor and you shall qualify for Destroy Dick December (Not Recommended).

Look man, just don’t nut in 30 days. 

Series

 As you scrolled through twitter, you came across a hashtag that confused you at first. But upon exploring the hashtag, you came to an understanding of what #NoNutNovember was. You also ended up cackling at the memes you’d found. Jeno sat beside you in your apartment and didn’t even bat an eyelid at your laughing, used to you finding random things on the internet that would spur on giggle fits.

“Babe look at this!” You elbowed him to gain his attention, thrusting your phone into his face with a grin still etched on your own.

“No Nut November...?” He raised an eyebrow, taking your phone from you and scrolling down the hashtag’s contents himself. “I could do that.” He shrugged, passing your phone back. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and let out a bark of a laugh.

“No you couldn’t.” You were 99.9% sure that your boyfriend wouldn’t even make it 3 days without trying to stick his penis inside of you.

“I could!” He sounded offended that you didn’t believe in his will power to not orgasm in 30 days. You both stared at each other, waiting to see who was going to cave and speak first. You smirked at him, biting your bottom lip and giggling almost evilly at him.

“Do it then.” You challenged him, raising your eyebrows once at him and continuing to smirk. His face fell momentarily, he didn’t actually think you’d have the balls to challenge him, so he was shocked and also worrying slightly about not having sex for the next month.

“Fine.” He said through clenched teeth, forcing a smile to mirror your own. “Easy.”

“Good luck Mr Lee.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek, letting your lips linger on his soft skin. You thought about not having sex for a month and sighed, realising you stitched yourself up with this because not having Jeno’s dick for a month was a disappointing thought, but the competitiveness you felt spurred on your next words. “I can do it to.” You shrugged like it was nothing, leading him to smirk back at you.

“Whoever lasts longer wins.” He held his hand out to you and you shook it firmly. “Loser has to give the winner oral and do whatever they want in bed.”

“Deal. May the best person win.”

 Day 3:

You and Jeno laid beside each other on the bed, both of you on your backs and staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. You let out a sigh, bored out of your mind as you stared at the same discoloured mark on the ceiling, you furrowed your eyebrows as you thought, how did that get there and what the hell even is it? Jeno sighed beside you, just as equally bored as you.

“Is that a cum stain?” You asked suddenly, no longer being able to stay silent in your curiosity.

“Is what a cum stain?” He glanced at you, following your train of eyesight back to the ceiling, but not noticing the mark.

“That mark.” You pointed up at the ceiling lazily. “There.” He tilted his head, letting out a sound of acknowledgement as he noticed the mark, humming as he thought about it.

“Could be, I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “Most the time I cum on you or in you so I don’t know how it got there if it is cum.”

“Good point…” That marked the end of your conversation, silence ensuing for another 10 minutes before Jeno piped up.

“We could be having sex right now you know…” He followed his words with a bored, fed up sigh.

“We could be yeah…but we aren’t going to…are we?” You both looked at each other, him giving you a smirk and raking his eyes down your body and back up to give you a sultry look. You narrowed your eyes at him, turning to look away before you caved in and mounted him.

“Not unless you give in, because I’m not going be the first to initiate it!” He leaned over, getting closer to you and letting his breath wash over your neck, a shiver shooting down your spine.

“Well neither am I!” You rolled away from him quickly, putting distance between you both and frowning at him. “I guess we could make out though?” You suggested, immediately missing the contact with him. He grinned, nodding fast and you were sure if he had a tail it would be wagging faster than an eager puppy about to go for a walk. You wasted no time in jumping into his arms, connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect time together. The sweet kissing lasted for about 2 minutes before it turned filthy and desperate, tongues pushing together and his hands wondering down your back to grip at your ass. You purposely moaned into his mouth, knowing it’s something that really gets him going. Without hesitation you trailed your palms up his chest, your fingers tickling him over his t-shirt causing him to feel giddy, his stomach releasing a puff of butterflies through his bloodstream right down to his dick. You drew away from the kiss, letting him messily kiss down to your jaw and neck, his teeth nipping at your skin that felt a thousand times more sensitive than usual.

“Jeno we need to stop, remember our commitment to not nutting!” He groaned like he was about to start sobbing, resting his head back on the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut.

“I hate life.” He mumbled, rolling over onto his front and burying his head into his pillow in a sulk.

“Me too big boy.” You patted his back and giggled. “Only 27 days to go…”

 Day 8:

“Right I can’t take it anymore (Y/N)!” Jeno burst into your bedroom, tearing his shirt off in haste as he made his way over to you on the bed. You stopped in your tracks, your mouth open and sandwich nearly at your lips. “I need to have an orgasm; I think my balls are about to fall off!” You didn’t know that not orgasming in 8 days would make Jeno as dramatic as what it had, but he looked flustered and desperate.

“Erm…I don’t know if that’s even possible baby.” You shrugged, taking a bite of your sandwich as he plopped himself down on the bed beside you. His lips found their way to your neck, not wasting time in sucking tender bruises to your delicate skin.

“I don’t care.” He mumbled against you, licking a stripe up your neck to your jaw, a hand gripping at your thigh tightly in his desperation. “I need to be inside of you and if I’m not within the next 5 minutes, I might die.” You laughed loudly, shaking your head and batting his face away from you.

“Back off.” He whimpered at your rejection, a pout resting on his face making him resemble a kicked puppy.

“Why? This whole thing is stupid! What do we even gain from it?” He whined, hoping if he pushed you enough, you’d just get fed up of his begging and just spread your legs, giving him full access to your precious goods.

“Firstly, I am committed to this cause, and I’m stubborn, and competitive…and too proud to quit!” He rolled his eyes, tutting and giving you a dirty look. “Secondly, I’m on my period and my sheets are white.” He stayed silent, flopping onto his back on your bed and groaning.

“My poor penis…”

“Jeno Junior will live.” You very gently patted the bulge in his jeans.

“No, he won’t. Him and the twins are lonely.” You nearly spat your sandwich out at his analogy, finding it hilarious that he referred to his dick and balls as people.

“They have each other for company!” You laughed, slapping a hand down onto his naked chest in your amusement, not being able to control your giggles as you tried to swallow the mouthful of sandwich.

 Day 14:

“How are you holding up baby?” You ghosted your fingertip over his bare chest, your fingernail leaving a subtle red trail in its wake. You laid half on his chest; his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stared at each other. Sometimes you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be the one in his arms, your mind spinning at how beautiful his smize was, your brain completely in awe at him. He sleepily grinned at you, snuggling into your warmth and finding comfort in the fact you had on Disney pyjamas covering your chest, it being hard for him to get an erection over that.

“I’m okay, you know I actually think that we can last until day 30, I am proud of us.” He stared at your lips through half mooned eyes, wanting nothing more than to have his cock lodged between them. But he quickly steered his thoughts away from that, instead imagining his lips on your own.

“What are you staring at Lee Jeno?” You giggled, completely in love with him. He made your world light up, whenever the looming fear of negative emotions begin to pull you into a depressive mindset, he would be there pulling you out with his unfunny jokes and strong, loving hold. He felt the same way about you, his love for you a stronger feeling than anything he’d ever felt for anyone before.

“Kiss me…” He whispered lowly, his eyes still half open and his lips forming into a soft smirk.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” You giggled, a hand coming up to stroke his cheek, eyes following every pattern on his face, taking in every single detail enough for you to paint the most perfect picture of him.

“No.” With a shake of his head he cupped your hand with his own. “I’m just so in love with you.” You saw his eyes glisten over as the words left his pink lips, a gulp following as he looked up to try and deter the tears from forming in his eyes. You giggled, leaning your forehead to his quickly before pulling away to look at him again.

“It’s a good thing I’m so in love with you too then isn’t it.” At that, he let out a sob, feeling slightly embarrassed at his reaction to you both admitting your love for each other, despite having done it so many times before. “Aww Jeno don’t cry!” His hands came up to cover his eyes, soft sobs falling into the palms of his hands. Tears came to your own eyes as you watched him fall apart in front of you, you didn’t know what to do other than sit up and try to pull at his hands.

“I’m sorry.” With a shaky breath he let you take his hands into your own. A tear trailed down your cheek, his hand coming up and resting on your cheek, his thumb catching the tear and discarding it before it could roll off of your chin. He gulped to clear his throat of his emotions, his bottom lip shaking as he breathed in deeply, trying to recuperate and get a hold of himself. “I don’t know where that came from.” He chuckled bashfully, his cheeks a vibrant red.

“I think I know…” You leaned in slowly, hesitating with your lips a hairs width away from his own. Slowly brushing your lips against his, you smiled, before placing them gently on his own in a closed mouth kiss. His hands came up to rest on your back as you swung your leg over his hips, your hands laying on his chest as you slowly made the kiss more heated. You stayed like this for a while, just kissing and enjoying being in each other’s embrace, until you gently started to rock your hips against his. His hands slowly cascaded down to rest on your ass over your pyjamas, his big palms massaging the soft flesh and forcing your hips to grind into his. His cock started to grow hard, his mind buzzing from the tingling feeling you left behind on his skin with every touch, and his muscles wanting nothing more than to flip you over. You reluctantly sat back, hurrying to pull your pyjama shirt over your head and leaving your half naked. Jeno used this as an opportunity to roll you onto your back, his strong form covering your body and sending prickles of pleasure rippling to your clit when he bumped his hard bulge to your heat.

Jeno attached his lips to one of your nipples, giving it a strong suck before flicking his tongue against it. He stared up at you as he rolled his tongue over the hard nub, your hands lacing through his thick dark hair, tugging it as he caught your nipple between his teeth with a husky growl. He moved up to lick his tongue into your mouth, using one of his hands to hold himself up above you, and the other to push down his boxers. After that, he pushed down your pyjamas pants and hiked your legs up over his waist. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek as gently as a butterfly would dare to touch you.

“Make love to me Jeno…” You gasped in a breathy moan as he very slowly lined his cock up, sliding it inside of your wet hole in a timid manner to avoid hurting you. A very fine spark of pain took your breath away momentarily, the stretch of his cock almost feeling foreign after not having experienced it in over 2 weeks.

“Am I hurting you honey?” He didn’t make a move after he’d filled you to the brim with his cock, your reaction scaring him to be frozen.

“A little, it’s been 2 weeks and nothing of a significant size has been up there.” You giggled nervously, trying to calm him and not wanting him to freak out and refuse to fuck you without taking ages to prep you first. You rubbed your hands over his back, smiling up at him before leaning up and pecking the tip of his nose with your warm lips. “I’m okay now.” You wiggled your hips and relaxed back against the plush pillows. He kissed your lips one more time before wrapped his arms around your body, lifting you from the bed slightly as he started to roll his hips into yours. “Mm just like that.” Soft whimpers left your lips as Jeno slowly started to make love to you. It felt different from all the times you’d both gone feral and fucked until one of you had at least ten bruises and once even mild concussion. The love you both felt for each other circled the air above your heads, almost suffocating you in it in the best way possible. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, being rocked into and feeling the igniting flames of pleasure coursing through your veins to set the fire alight in your stomach. He kept the perfect pace, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and gently biting onto the soft where your neck and shoulder met.  

“You’re so beautiful…I’m the luckiest man on earth.” It was rare that Jeno ever said anything sweet during sex. Usually he would say the filthiest words, knowing how it brought you closer to orgasm and would cause a flush of wetness to gush from you when he’d call you dirty names. But during this tender moment, his sweet words had the same effect on your body, the rush of butterflies you felt got singed in your stomach from the euphoric fire burning within. The sound of his skin slapping against yours got louder as he picked up the pace, keeping his thrusts hard and not letting his chest leave contact your own, the lower half of his body doing all the work.

“Jeno right there!” You gasped, his cock doing wonders inside your tight, soaking heat. You knew it wouldn’t be long before everything came crashing down onto you, all your thoughts being washed away with the fire.

“Wait hold on baby.” He grunted, sweat glistening on his forehead as he moved his arms to frame either side of your head, peeling his chest away from your own. You noticed how quick his chest was rising and falling and the way his abs flexed from working overtime to bring himself to the edge with you. “Cum with me.” He sat back onto his knees, dragging you by the thighs so you were as close to him as he could get, your head being pulled from the pillow onto the mattress. He gave it his all, thrusting his cock into your pussy as quickly as he could, reaching a new angle inside of you. The fire inside of you spark a huge flame throughout your body, your orgasm causing your eyes to close and mouth to hang open.

“Jeno!” You moaned loudly, reaching out for him with your eyes closed and feeling around blindly for him. He came inside of you after his hips became sloppy, stilling completely and screwing his face up with a hiss. His white cum painting your walls, which was something you didn’t let him do often, he always found it to be a treat when you’d let him cum inside you. He panted loudly, laying down over you and cuddling into you as he very slowly rocked his hips into yours a few more times to ride out his orgasm as your walls pulsed around him. You both laid still and in silence, basking in the afterglow even if it was unbearably hot with him on top of you. He chuckled quietly, turning his head to kiss your cheek with his lips lingering on your warm, flushed cheeks.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, smiling against your clammy skin. You could feel his heart beating through his chest, it very gradually slowing down as his breaths shallowed.

“I love you more.” You giggled, bringing your arms around his neck and turning your face to catch his lips with you own. “So…” You pulled away from his lips to smirk at him. “I won.”

“You did not!” You’d never seen him pulled away from your grip as quick as what he did in that moment, using his intimidating stare to look down at you as he sat back on his knees. “You instigated this! You kissed me first.”

“Because you were crying! Maybe you planned this out and used my soft, sensitive, caring nature to make me feel sympathy towards you!!” You sat up and folded your arms over your chest.

“As if I’d plan something as intricate as that out!” He laughed, sitting with his legs crossed on the bed, a shine on his skin from the sweat still lingering behind even after your intimate workout was finished. “Call it a draw? We both lost anyway.” He shrugged, finding your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, playing with your fingers as he waited for you to answer him. You sighed with a roll of your eyes, biting your bottom lip to supress a snigger from escaping.

“Fine!”

 No Nut November: Lee Jeno – Fail.

#nct #nct dream #nct dream 00 line #nct dream 00 line smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #lee jeno #smut #nct jeno #nct lee jeno #nct dream jeno #nct dream lee jeno #nct jeno smut #nct dream jeno smut #nct dream lee jeno smut #nct lee jeno smut #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct smut scenarios #nct dream smut scenarios #nct no nut november #nct dream no nut november #no nut november #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #nct blurbs #nct dream blurbs #lee jeno fluff #nct fluff

[athenasbloodyspear]

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 5

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

You all arrived back at the compound to find Tony standing on the landing pad. He requested everyone in the common space to debrief but not until after you cleaned up.

“Don’t get blood on my upholstery.” Tony yelled at you all as you dragged yourselves through the compound.

In the five hour flight back, you’d lost most of your steam. The adrenaline had left your system and your muscles were more sore than you’d been in a long time. Every step you took toward your room felt like wading through mud.

When you finally got to your bathroom you looked at yourself in a mirror, really seeing the aftermath of the mission for the first time.

You had a nasty bruise on your cheekbone that you didn’t really remember how you got. Your face and chest was splattered with blood. You peeled the zipper on the front of your suit down and let the holsters and weapons attached drag the material off your shoulders and to the floor.

You surveyed the damage from under the suit then, standing completely naked in your bathroom.

The kevlar could protect your skin somewhat from bullets and knives, but it couldn’t completely dull their impact. You had large bruises on your upper arms, and you had some bruising on your hips from where the repelling harness and tugged hard when Bucky had stopped your free fall.

Your knees were pretty banged up from where you had hit the roof after Sam dropped you. When you turned you noticed that your one shoulder, the one that you had shifted your weight to while falling to try to keep yourself from crushing Bucky, was a nasty mosaic of blue, greens and purples.

All in all, you looked like someone had used you as a human punching bag. Despite all that, and how exhausted you were to your very bones, you felt amazing.

It was the kind of amazing you imagined marathon runners felt. Utterly and completely physically destroyed, but you had accomplished something you thought impossible.

You’d gone out there, and done a mission. You hadn’t broken down, you’d bantered with your friends and you’d successfully gotten Hydra intel.

You were making steps in the right direction. You were starting to tread water in the endless sea of emotions you had previously been drowning in. You might not be on dry land, but you could feel the sun on the crown of your head and you could taste the wind. It was a start.

You took another scalding shower, wincing when the water hit the ever pulsing cluster of bruising on your shoulder.

You dragged yourself to your closet and glanced through your clothes. There was no way you could put on a shirt that touched that bruise right now, any soft brush felt like agony. You grabbed the softest tank top you could find, forgoing a bra, and using your other arm, wrestled it over your shoulders and on your body. Then, still using one hand, shimmied into a pair of your comfiest sweats.

You couldn’t muster up the energy to lean down to put on socks, so you shoved your feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and shuffled your way back down to the big open living space on the main floor.

Everyone but Nat and Clint were there already. You figured Clint had used Nat’s shower, since he didn’t have his own space at the compound, and they were probably running a bit behind. You hoped they hurried their asses up because you really just wanted to pass out right there on the rug in the middle of the room.

“Someone looks a little tired.” Sam called when you walked into the room, causing Tony, Bucky and Steve to look up from their conversation and survey you.

“I’m a little out of practice if you don’t remember.” You snarked back at Sam. You couldn’t come up with anything more sparkly to say right now.

Bucky patted the spot next to him on the couch and you hobbled over there. You definitely looked like you were 90 years old, hunched slightly and trying your damnedest not to bend your knees more than necessary. You were well trained, but your body definitely had forgotten what it was like to get the shit kicked out of you like that. It would take some getting used to again.

When you turned around to flop onto the couch (you didn’t have much energy left to lower yourself gently) you heard a small gasp behind you. As you started your quick and non-graceful descent, two hands wrapped around your waist to slow your momentum and let you fall softly into the couch.

“When did you get this, Doll?” Bucky murmured from behind you. Sam, Steve and Tony were bantering around you and Bucky kept his voice soft, just for you.

“Oh I believe it was when a bird brained idiot dropped us a little farther from the roof than necessary.” You huffed. Sam looked over at you then, spotting the nasty bruise on your shoulder. Bucky shot Sam a look of pure, unfiltered rage and Sam just held up his hands in surrender, saying nothing in return.

“I thought I took most of the impact.” Bucky said softly to you again, the fingertips of his metal hand brushing so softly over the skin of your shoulder you almost wondered if you were imagining it. Except it still hurt slightly, even with the cool metal touch soothing the burning skin.

You hissed a breath through your teeth involuntarily at the throbbing pain. He quickly withdrew his fingers, much to your chagrin. “I rolled a bit. Didn’t want to crush you.” You hissed through gritted teeth as you slowly leaned back against the couch, wincing when your shoulder hit the leather. You shifted your back slightly so that you were leaning mostly on the other shoulder, which pitched your weight slightly in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Crush me?” He shook his head and then quickly tucked a strand of your still drying hair behind your ear, almost like he wanted to be able to see your face clearer from this new angle. “I was wearing a kevlar bullet proof vest and a backpack to soften the fall. You just had a near paper thin scrap of kevlar between you and the concrete sweetheart.”

At this, Tony scoffed. “It is not paper thin, I would never send her out there unprotected.”

“She should have had a vest, Tony.” Bucky snapped back.

“Can you two shut up?” You moaned. “I’m exhausted. Can we just debrief so I can go pass out for the next month?”

As if you summoned them, Nat and Clint finally walked through the doors.

As Nat plugged the hard drive she had into a port in the wall, and Friday started projecting the information you’d all captured onto the walls, you felt yourself melt deeper and deeper into the couch. You didn’t really need to be here. You weren’t a keeper of information or someone who was needed to decipher codes, so you zoned out. Trying your best to appear present while also napping with your eyes opened.

At some point you felt a hand snag around your waist and pull you so you could rest your heavy head on a very large and muscular shoulder. Whoever this shoulder belonged to smelled delicious, and was so warm.

So warm.

You couldn’t think straight you were so sleepy. You couldn’t really remember where you were or who was around, all you knew is that the world of dreams was pulling you deep deep down. You wanted to close your heavy eyes and fall into it.

You noticed momentarily that you already had your eyes closed. You debated trying to pry them back open.

There’s something I’m supposed to be paying attention to. You thought. But oh my god I’m so warm and cozy right now.

You fell into it. This warmth and comfort. It was just too delicious to ignore.

~0~

You woke (it could have been 15 minutes or 15 days later, you really couldn’t tell) to the feeling of someone softly running their hand through your hair.

It felt delectable. The tingling in your scalp ran down your whole spine to your tailbone. It had been so long since you’d been this relaxed. Since you’d felt this safe. You took in a deep breath and buried your face deeper into the warm pillow under your head.

It was only when that pillow rumbled with laughter that you realized it wasn’t a pillow at all. No, this was a human being.

Worse, it was an incredibly warm and muscled chest that you knew well, as you’d been trying (and failing) not to stare at it lately.

The thing about your half awake mind is that you knew you were currently curled up in Bucky’s lap. You must have crawled farther into his lap in your sleep. He now sat with his back against the arm of the couch, his legs spread along the cushions with your body cradled between them. Your good shoulder was curled against his chest, you were huddled against his torso, your face buried in the space between his collarbone and pectoral muscles.

You knew all this. You knew how embarrassing it was that you had basically climbed the man in your sleep, but the only thing your sleep addled mind could come up with as a solution was to keep your face buried in his chest and pretend none of it was happening.

Okay. And maybe it felt really good and you didn’t want to move or say anything to break this spell. You could just pretend you were still sleeping right?

Wrong. Bucky knew you too well it seemed.

“Hey sleepy head.” He whispered, running his fingers through your hair again, from root to end, before starting again.

You sat up. Every inch that you peeled away from him was agonizing. Your skin was so cold where it left him. “What time is it?” You croaked, voice crackling with sleep. You squinted as you glanced around the common area. It was dark, you and Bucky were the only people left in the space with a few ambient lights still on around the room. Just enough to be able to make out the shape of the furniture.

“It’s somewhere around two.” Bucky grumbled under you, stretching his arms behind his head.

To your major distress, the action revealed a strip of skin at his waist and you could make out a spattering of hair and two distinct v-shaped muscles at the bottom of his abdominals. You quickly looked away, pushing with two hands on his chest to get yourself away from the man as fast as possible. Before you did something stupid like lean down and lick that skin.

Oh my god you’re losing your mind.

“Fuck.” You whispered, uncurling your legs and placing them on the floor. The debrief had started at around 8pm. You’d been curled up against Bucky for hours. You really hoped you hadn’t drooled, snored or farted in your sleep.

Or worse. Talked.

Who knows what you had been dreaming about.

You started to get up, but you were a little more groggy and stiff than you had realized and stumbled a bit as you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Whoa girl.” Bucky chuckled, his hands wrapping around your waist to steady you from his position, now seated normally on the couch. “Okay Y/N, is this gonna be a thing you do now? Stumbling around and almost falling on your ass? It’s a little freaky.”

You whipped your head to look at him over your shoulder. He had repeated almost the exact words you’d said to him when he had stood at the end of the hall a month ago. After he had followed your drunk ass when you bolted during happy hour. He just smirked up at you from his place on the couch. He hadn’t moved his hands, even though you were completely stable now.

“Very funny.” You muttered, pulling yourself gently from his hands. Again, it was almost painful to do so but you simply had to before you did something stupid. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Bucky just looked down at his hands where they now rested on his lap, his smirk still in place, “Anytime.”

You flushed. Damn him and his ability to always pull a blush from you.

You just turned and started toward the door to the hall, ready to fall face first into your bed and not move for weeks. Embarrassment and exhaustion pulling at you in equal measure.

Just as your hands started to push the handle to the door you heard his throat clear behind you.

“Um. Would you wanna maybe… go explore Brooklyn with me for a while tomorrow?” Bucky asked cautiously. Like he was nervous you’d say no. As if you’d ever turn him down when he asked for anything.

You spun around and let your lower back lean gently against the door, carefully avoiding leaning your shoulders against it. “Brooklyn?” You muttered. You hadn’t been back to the city since Tony and Steve had hauled your depressed shell away. You could face it though, if it was with him. At least you hoped you could.

“Yeah.” He muttered, his metal arm shifting to rub his hand against the back of his neck. He looked so boyish like this. So vulnerable and soft as he avoided your eye contact. “I haven’t gone back in a while. I just sort of… miss it. I thought you might too.”

Little did he know, you had no desire to step foot in the borough again, but you would. For him. “Sure. I’ll come.” You managed feebly. Your heart pounded a bit in your chest, your throat closing just slightly as it became a challenge to keep your breath even.

Even though you were pretty sure there was no outward indication that your heart rate had sped up, he looked up at you suddenly, his brows furrowed. “If you don’t want to come, you really don’t--”

You cut him off. “No. I’ll be there. Shall we say two?”

He paused a moment, studying every plane of your face. He must have found an answer to the questions you could see running through his mind because he finally nodded. “Two it is.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow.”

You spun and pushed your way through the door.

You only hoped the nightmares would stay away and you could get some more sleep before tomorrow. You were gonna need it.

~0~

You had been able to sleep for a few more hours after you’d face planted into your mattress. Apparently you were still exhausted enough from the mission to pass out until 10.

You’d gotten up, inspected your shoulder (mostly healed due to your super human tendencies, although there was still a good sized bruise on your shoulder) and stretched a bit in your bedroom. You didn’t feel you needed to work out today, you deserved a day off, but your muscles were still pretty stiff.

You’d gone down the common room, had a lovely lunch chatting with Natasha and Wanda, before you returned to your room to dress for your afternoon with Bucky.

You decided on a black soft tank top again, with a leather jacket lined with silk over it, to help with your still slightly tender skin on your shoulder. You pulled on a pair of loose light washed jeans and shoved your feet into a pair of red sneakers. You pulled your hair into a messy bun and propped a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses on your head.

You met Bucky in the garage again. He had just smirked at you before offering you a helmet. He must have remembered your remark from your last ride. He hopped on the bike, no helmet for him apparently, and waited for you.

The whole ride to the city you had kept your head attached to his back. You could see glimpses of the world whipping past through the visor, but your heart was fluttering in your chest with panic.

You knew you probably wouldn’t see anyone you knew (you didn’t know many people from your old neighborhood anyway) and you knew you probably weren’t even going within blocks of your old place, but the panic was hard to tamp down. The idea of walking those streets again caused your chest to seize in a panic. You tried to breathe slowly, using techniques that your therapist had taught you over your last few sessions.

You focused on the way your arms felt wrapped around Bucky. You focused on the feeling of the bike rumbling underneath you. You focused on listening to the sounds of the engine and the traffic around you as it got steadily louder the closer you got to Brooklyn.

You lifted your head when you felt Bucky downshift and pull off the highway to the smaller streets of whichever neighborhood he was taking you to. When you lifted your head to look around, you recognized the streets as belonging to Brooklyn Heights, the old neighborhood Steve and Bucky had grown up in. You knew it was probably wildly different now, full of new money hipsters and thirty-something wall street brokers, with little coffee shops and niche bookstores and overpriced sushi restaurants everywhere. It was far enough from your old neighborhood of Prospect Heights, but still a tad too close to settle the flutter in your stomach.  

Bucky pulled into a small slot between parallel parked cars and cut the engine.

You pulled the helmet off of your head and tried to fluff up what you were sure was now a matted rats nest of a bun. Bucky took the helmet from you and put it in a hidden compartment under the seat of the bike.

“So old timer, where to? Your old stomping grounds?”

Bucky just rolled his eyes at you. “I figured we could just wander. Stop in places that look interesting. It’s all different now, so I doubt I would even remember where our old stomping grounds are anymore.”

Something in your heart pulled a bit at that. It wasn’t fair that everything had been ripped away from Bucky. He had never wanted this life.

“Alright.” You said. Softer this time. “Lead the way.”

Bucky smiled softly at you before starting to walk down the block, in the direction of the river. You fell in step with him.

You both walked for a couple hours, Bucky pointing to buildings that were still the same. A few spots he remembered going as a kid, but most he said looked familiar but couldn’t place.

You made it to the river and spent some time side by side in silence, staring at the Manhattan skyline. It was a content sort of silence instead of the oppressive open void of silence that had been your companion for so many months.

Your stomach rumbling broke the silence. Bucky looked at you and laughed. “Alright. It’s time to feed the beast.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, punching him in his arm. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who ate not one, not two, but three burgers at that bar.”

Bucky just laughed again and said “Who said I was talking about you?”

~0~

You found a little pizza place not far from the river and ordered two large pepperoni pizzas. You walked back to one of the many grassy parks lining the river and plopped down with your meal. It had to be somewhere around 6pm at this point.

The anxiety in your gut had mostly faded away after the first twenty minutes of wandering around with Bucky. No one you had passed had really made a huge deal about the two of you being here. A few pedestrians had done a double take as they passed, but New Yorkers were probably pretty used to well-known people wandering around all the time, Avengers were no exception.

So you’d relaxed in the companionship of Bucky. It felt a bit like your time in Budapest, wandering the busy streets together. You spoke when one of you had something to share, but there was no pressure for constant chatter between you two. You barely even had to speak when one of you wanted to change direction to head toward a place that caught your eye, it was like you could read each other's thoughts and adjusted your trajectory accordingly. Like when you were on a mission together fighting at each other's backs, but this time the enemy was tourists who weren’t looking where they were going and socialites that didn’t look up from their phones as they walked.

You sat in the grass, munching on pizza, letting the crisp autumn breeze drift past. It was on the warm side today and the sun was still hot enough that you had shrugged your jacket off.

“I’m glad to see your bruise is healing.” Bucky said as he tore into another slice.

You hummed in response, swallowing your pizza. “It just looks nasty now, it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

“I’m really sorry that I didn’t protect your shoulder from that fall.” Bucky whispered. He wasn’t looking at you. You balled up a napkin and chucked it at his head.

“Hey. Do not apologize. First of all, it was my fault for rolling slightly to try to keep myself from slamming into you. Second, it’s a mission. We’re bound to get a little beat up. I’ve had worse.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel better.” Bucky mumbled. You just rolled your eyes, which earned a small chuckle from Bucky.

You sat in silence for another few heartbeats before he spoke again. “You did really well, by the way. I know it’s been a while but you were a machine out there. It was nice to see you…” he trailed off.

“Nice to see me, what?” You prompted.

He looked at his pizza, clearly nervous about whatever it was he was going to say next. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was really nice to see you be you again. A swaggering, sass-talking ass kicker.” He looked up at you again as he finished his sentence. You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of half chewed pizza in your mouth.

“Ass kicker?” You spluttered. Bucky was laughing now too.

“You know what I mean!” Bucky tossed the balled up napkin you’d thrown at him back at your face, eliciting another string of giggles from you.

You took a few gulping breaths, settling yourself. The sounds of the breeze and chatter of nearby people filling the space between you. “I know what you mean.” You looked down at your pizza sadly, thinking about all the time you’d spent locked in your apartment, or your room at the compound, missing out on days like this. Days that weren’t special by any means, but were magical all the same.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Bucky said, knocking the toe of his boot against your sneakers. “I meant it in a good way.”

“No, I know.” You blurted. You didn’t want him to think any of this was his doing. “I’m just… I don’t know.” You paused for a  moment, sorting out your swirling thoughts. He gave you space to think. “I’m just mad at myself for spending so much time not being myself.”

Buck just hummed in response. Leaving the space open for you, like he knew there was more swirling in your brain but you just hadn’t organized it yet.

“Something…” You stuttered a bit. Were you really going to talk to him about this? “Something really bad happened to me Buck.” You whispered finally.

Bucky turned toward you a bit. He moved preternaturally slow, like he was worried if he moved too quickly he would spook you and you’d run off. He’d been waiting for this, you guessed. He had probably been waiting for you to finally talk to him since the moment he had grabbed your arm to stop your momentum on your way to the elevators all those weeks ago. When he’d caught you disassociating outside of your bedroom. He’d been patiently waiting all that time for you to finally be ready.

You didn’t know if you were really ready, but he’d been so patient and the ambient sounds of the river and the pedestrians were lulling you into a sense of calm. It felt like this little patch of grass in this park was a totally different universe than the compound. It felt safe.

“That’s actually not true. Well it is true, but it’s not really how I should have said it. I… I let something really bad happen to me.” You whispered again. Bucky was staring straight at you now, you couldn’t meet his eyes. You looked at the tree behind him, the few slices left in your pizza boxes, the river to your right. He was breathing evenly and slowly, like he was hoping that his own even breathing would encourage you to keep yours steady.

“I…” You started to open your mouth to tell him everything, but you never got the chance as a cool voice called from behind you.

“Glad to know some things never change.”

Your heart stalled in your chest.

No. No no no no. Not here. Not now.

Bucky’s eyes shifted over your shoulder to the person who stood probably 10 feet away, behind you. His brows furrowed as he took the person in. You knew what he was probably seeing. A flop of dirty blonde hair, intense brown eyes and likely an immaculate suit or a well paired set of athletic wear on a thin but muscular body.

Elijah.

You couldn’t move.

“You always were a lying bitch.” Elijah spit. Bucky’s eyes flitted to you. Your eyes were still glued to the pizza box in front of you. You were unable to breathe, to think, to do anything. You had been so relaxed sitting here you didn’t even consider the possibility that Elijah would ever happen across you. What were the odds? In a city of over 8 million, what were the chances that Elijah would be in this park at the same time you were.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel the rage build in Bucky’s body as he stared at your motionless body. He saw every strangled breath you tried to choke down and he turned an absolute lethal look on Elijah. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d gone cold. That the Winter Soldier was looking at your ex fiance now. But you did know better, and there were too many emotions swirling in Bucky’s eyes at the moment.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky gritted out, his metal fist was in the dirt underneath him and dug in, like he needed something to keep him from launching up and wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck instead.

Elijah’s arrogant chuckle rolled over your shoulders, causing your stomach to lurch. Why couldn’t you fucking move? “I think you know exactly who I am, you brute.”

You almost laughed at that. Elijah, perfectly plain normal man Elijah who took an occasional boxing class at the gym tossing insults at a literal super soldier with more kills on his list than Elijah could ever comprehend.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he looked at you again. He was clearly waiting for some sort of message from you on how he should proceed. It seemed like if he had it his way he would probably strangle him right here in front of hundreds of onlookers and not give a shit.

“What do you want, Elijah?” You choked out finally, if only to save Bucky from the fall-out of killing a civilian in broad daylight.

“Nothing in particular.” Elijah tossed at you. You finally glanced over your shoulder and sure enough, he stood there in his usual running gear.

Of course. You thought. His running route normally takes him along the river.

You’d forgotten in the near year you’d been apart.

“I just was on my run minding my own business when I saw you over here. My slut of an ex sitting here with one of the very men she said she didn’t even work with anymore.” Elijah continued. You flinched at his words. Bucky became even more murderous, if that was possible. You flicked your eyes up at him, trying to convey that he shouldn’t engage. This wasn’t an enemy worth the fight. “I was just wondering if you could answer a question for me.” Elijah finished.

“What?” You gritted out. Your heart was thundering in your chest now, your muscles locked together to keep you from moving. You felt like you might start shivering soon, you were suddenly so cold and it only had a little to do with the setting sun.

“I wanna know how long after I left you it was before you jumped in their beds.” He hissed. “Did you wait at all or did you run straight into the arms of the juiced up freaks and fuck em?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Bucky snarled. His voice had pitched unnaturally low. He kept his eyes on you, as if he couldn’t stand to look at Elijah without trying to kill him.

You choked and coughed a bit. The panic in your stomach flipped the acid and your throat started to burn. You could feel tears building pressure behind your eyes.

I will not cry. Not in front of him. You told yourself.

Elijah just laughed at Bucky. “Did he do that?” Elijah asked. You weren’t looking at him, but you figured he was indicating the large bruise on your shoulder. “Missed me that much did you? Had to find someone else to bash you around when you’re being a cunt?”

Bucky launched himself at Elijah. Like a spring finally being released, he jumped up with no warning.

But you had fast reflexes too.

You jumped up between them, placed your hands on his chest to stop his forward momentum. Something in the movement finally released the panic in your gut and you felt tears spill over your cheeks and down your jaw. You were holding every muscle in your chest as tight as possible to keep from audibly sobbing.

Bucky’s murderous gaze shifted to yours, and once he tracked the tears he instantly softened and brought one hand to either side of your face, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

You closed your eyes and choked “Get me out of here Bucky. Please.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and one under your knees, hauled you in his arms, and began taking long strides away. He leaned down to snag your jacket, but left everything else where it laid.

You had the fleeting thought that you hoped someone came and picked up your trash. You hoped it was someone who maybe needed those last few slices of pizza.

Bucky was almost running, like he couldn’t remove you both fast enough by walking.

From behind you you could hear Elijah chuckling and yelling “That’s right bitch. Have your mutant monsters save you from everything. You’re fucking pathetic.”

Bucky squeezed you closer to his chest until you were far enough away you couldn’t hear Elijah’s taunting voice anymore. You could hear it in your mind, though. Your spiralling panic wouldn’t let you forget it.

Had to find someone else to bash you around

You’re pathetic

Lying bitch

His voice echoed and ricocheted around your skull. He was right. You were a pathetic liar who ruined every relationship you touched. You had lied to your best friends and strained your relationships with them, you had lied to your fiance and destroyed a multi-year relationship when he found out.

You were a liar. And a ruiner. A pathetic mess who didn’t deserve Steve and Tony’s trust. Who didn’t deserve that final dose of serum they gave you. Who didn’t deserve friends like Peter, Sam and Thor. Who didn’t deserve people like Natasha watching your back. Who didn’t deserve someone like Bucky holding you, carrying you away from something you couldn’t face because you were a coward.

You sobbed then. A loud, jarring sound that was ripped involuntarily from your body. If you had any room left in your body for more emotions you would have been embarrassed that you were falling apart in public, with hundreds of witnesses, and crying into Bucky’s metal arm again.

Suddenly Bucky sat down on what must have been a park bench, adjusting your weight slightly so that he could use the arm that had been holding under your legs to reach into his pocket.

Your heaving sobs continued to tear their way out of you. Your face was buried in Bucky’s arms and you were trying to suck air into your lungs but it felt like there was water in them.

You were fully under again. There was no air here, no sun, no wind. It was just the roar of panic in your ears. The world around you was muffled. You could only vaguely feel where your hips sat on Bucky’s lap and the band of his arm around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky’s voice, muffled to your ears like you were sitting at the bottom of the deep end of a pool, “I need the quinjet to come get us. I just sent you our location.” You sucked in another heave of breath. “I’ll explain later but I need that jet right fucking now.” He paused “I don’t fucking care that we’re in the middle of civilians.” Another sob left your chest and Bucky’s warm arm wrapped a little tighter around your shoulders. “I’ll grab my bike later. Yeah. Thanks.” Bucky wrapped up the call and slid his phone back in his pocket before wrapping his arm under your knees again.

Bucky started to rock your body very slowly back and forth on the bench. His nose and mouth were pressed against the top of your head as he murmured “It’s okay. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s me. It’s me. I’ve got you.” You sucked another rattling breath in, not nearly deep enough to offer any release from the spasming in your chest. “You gotta breathe for me baby. C’mon. You have to breathe.” Bucky continued, his warm hand soothing strokes up and down your back.

You couldn’t. Your throat was nearly closed and you couldn’t open your eyes or lift your head. It was like you were frozen solid, drifting in a void.

Bucky kept murmuring into the top of your head while he rocked you. You felt your body grow lighter and lighter, your hands and feet going tingly and then numb as your panic grew and grew.

The last thing you were aware of before you lost consciousness was the sudden rumbling of the jet above your head and the thud of the ramp hitting the concrete.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky

[raisedinerebor]

Pull Me Out

Paring: Thorin x Reader

Song: Train wreck - James Arthur

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Dealing with depression and mild swearing.

An: This is a request that I got over on Wattpad. I’ve been compiling these stories over there. So let me know if any of you want a link or anything like that!

Tags: @fizzyxcustard​

My hands tremble along silken sheets. The color so long faded it's impossible to tell what it once was. Prehaps blue. Maybe a deep green? Did it even matter?

It's been days since i've  left this bed. I no longer had the energy to move about. Something as simple as geting something to eat became the most difficult of tasks. Even more so than facing Smaug.

I turn beneath the sheets and breath in deeply. Smoke clung to these forgotten halls like a scholar to their books. I don't think I could begin to tell you where this hollow feeling began to come from. It could be any number of things. Traped beneath this blasted mountain that I once dreamed of seeing. That I had glorified so much in my own mind that it tore me apart to see what she is becoming. Maybe it was Thorins compleate and utter lack of faith within our burgler. Within Bilbo. Our friend. To think the he would try to kill the one who saved his life not that long ago.

But, as I think more on it. It's probably Thorin himself. The dwarf that I once sought safety and solace from now becoming my most feared foe. He's no longer the kind hearted King I knew.  The man who put the well being of others above his own. Who promised me a life of plenty.

Who promised me a life of love.

What a joke.

Somebody knocks on my door. What's even the point of answering? The door swings open, rusted hinges squealing in protest. Somebody sighs and a plate scraps across the wooden desk on the other side of the room.

"Lass?" So they sent Dwalin this time. I don't answer. Instead choosing to roll over to my side and peer at him from beneath the covers. He shakes his head and walks over to the bed. "You have to eat lassie. Please. " I snort and cover my head. It quickly grows hot beneath the blankets. The bed dips as he sits down. A large hand rests on my shoulders. Heavy and warm even through the blankets. I want to scream at him to go away and to stay at the same time.

"You're worrying us girl." He breaths heavly and shakes my shoulder. "Please. Just. Just eat." The bed shifts as he gets up. His hand with it.  I hear him leave and the door slamming shut.

.

.

.

Dwalin comes out from that room with a million and one worries. Each one worst than the last. A shuddering sigh comes from him as he runs his hand through his beard. Balin is quick to go to his side.

"Well, brother?" Dwalin shakes his head and begins to storm off.

"That poor girl is only getting worse with each passing day. For Mahal's sake! She hasn't ate in almost a week. She hasn't left that blasted room for longer." Balin is almost running to keep up with his brothers longer strides at this point. "She isn't even speaking! Y/n might as well be a dead woman walking." His voice softens as his anger leaves him. Fear filling him as he thinks about one of the few good things The Company has coming to an end.

She had compleatly changed from the happy go lucky thing that they picked up in Hobbiton. A smile for each and every one of them. A listening ear for those who needed to spill their woes. And a steady place to rest for any of them who felt themselves falling in the world. Always ready to make room in her day to make them happy.

Even if it ment giving hers away.

It's time they returned the favour. He knew exactly who to go to, and hopefully, he would be able to pull his own head out of his ass.

Balin looked to Dwalin as they stood before the ornate wooded door. Dwalins usually steady hand shaking as it laid upon it. Waiting to be pushed open.

"Are you sure?" Dwalin grunted and shook his head.

"No. But when has that ever stoped me." With that he pushed the door open and stepped into Thorins' own bed chambers.

The first thing he noticed was how dark it was. A few candles were lit here and there. The fire lit within the hearth. But other than that there was little light to be had. Thorin was sleeping. Not even properly. Still in gilded golden armour and crown. He lay in the center of the bed his feet still firmly planted on the floor.

"Damned fool." Dwalin muttered. So far gone in his own sickness he couldn't find the time to care for himself. He stood right in front of Thorin and after checking there was no sword that he could stick him with, grabbed him by the edge of his armour and pulled him upright. Thorin woke up with a startle yelp and stumbling from the abrubt change from laying to standing.

"What's the meaning of this!" Thorin stumbled backwards. Scowling at Dwalin. Dwalin reached out and grabed his armour once again. Jerking him closer as he all but growled at Thorin.

"You're a damned fool Thorin. A fucking idiot for not seeing what's going on around you." Was he a bit harsh on throwing all the blame on him? Prehaps. Did he care? No. Not really. Not if it ment getting the old Thorin back.

"For the love of Mahal!" Thorin pulled back pulling Dwalin with him as he does so. "What are you going on about Dwalin?" He spat out and grabbed Dwalins wrist. The tattooed dwarf shook his head. The blasted fool.

"Are you so blind in your own desires that you have forgotten the ones you cared so much about?" It was the throne room all over again. Dwalin searched Thorins face for any sense of familiarity. For any sign they would have their king back. And him, his oldest friend.

Thorin shook his head. "I am blinded by nothing. Dwalin." He pulled Dwalin's hand away from his arm with little to no effort. "Now. Go." That was the moment Dwalin pulled his arm back and swung straight at Thorin. Thorin stumbled backwards his hand on his face as he glared at Dwalin. "You-!" He barely even got the one word out.

"You're a daft fucking fool if ye think i'm going to let ye get away with that." His accent thickened in his anger. Calm as it seemed to be. He never raised his voice. Didn't raise another fist as he came to stand before Thorin once again. Foreheads touching one another as he muttered.

"Uzebade*. My brother. The lass is falling apart. Your nephews are terrified and more than half of the Company thinks you to be dying. We are preparing for war, Thorin. We need you. Our king. Our friend. Our family." He pulls away and lays his hand on Thorins shoulder. Eyes glancing over the dark bruise growing along his cheek bone. "More importently though, you have to go talk to y/n. She's pratically wasting away at watching you fall apart. She hasn't eaten in a week. Hasn't left her room for two. And she doesn't speak. Not anymore. After watching what happened with Bilbo. Which, by the way. I am still going to kick your ass for."

Thorin pulled away and looked around the room. Then down to his hands.

"What has become of me, Dwalin?" His eyes fill with tears as he looks up at Dwalin. "What have I done?" Dwalin comes up and takes off the heavy crown on Thorins head.

"Nothing. As long as you pull out of it." Silence.

"Where is the Y/n? Where is my Ghivashel?"

.

.

.

It's the silence that scared me the most. It felt as if I could get lost in it. Be smothered to death by it.  I ball the silken sheets in my hand. Got i'm so pathetic. Why can't I get up and do anything? Why can't I do what I have always done and pave my own way in this world. Why can't I just get over this!

I jump when the door bursts open. Smacking against the wall and clattering back to close.

"Y/n." A deep voice breathes out. Wait. I bolt upright on the bed, Thorin standing at the end of it. Gone is the golden gilded armour I last saw him in. Gone is the jaring crown that seemed to weigh him down. He has his furs back along with the armour that he had worn through this long journey back home. "Oh lass." I could feel my chest growing tight. That all to familar lump forming in my throat as I tried to hold back tears.  He rounds the side of the bed and reaches out to me. I jerk back and watch as his face falls. His hand falling uselessly in his lap.  This close I could see the bruise cradeling his jaw.

"I know that no matter what I say, that it is up to you to forgive me. To decide if I deserve your forgivness." He gets down on his knees and props his arms up on the bed.  "Yet here I am. A fool of a man to begging for it. To ask you to forgive me for what I have done. To you. To the others." I sit at the edge of the bed. Right next to him. Neither of us move for what seems like an enternity.

" I was scared. You know that?" My own voice surprises me. Hoarse from the lack of use. Thorin got up and sat next to me. Hand upon my knee. "I was terrified that you were actually going to kill Bilbo. Scared that I. That we would never get you back." The tears fall slowly. One by one. Falling from my lashes and onto my clasped hands on my lap. "Thorin." I look up at him. "I was petrified that I was going to lose you. I know that you were sick. Cursed by deep in your blood. " I bring my hand up to his face. Fingers sofly trailing along his bruised cheek before cradling his face in my hands. His beard scratched at the soft palms of my hands. He seemed to melt into it. Eyes closing as he brought his own hands up to engulf mine.

"But considering that you were not all there. I find it easier to find forgivness within me. For, it any one deserves it, it is you. Thorin. Son of Thrain, son of Thror. And king under the mountain." Tears betray the smile forming on his face.

"I do not deserve it." His voice is quiet. Soft. Scared. I could feel myself shaking as I got up to wrap my arms around him. One hand going to hair the other resting at his back. Despite his words he holds me tightly. Muscled arms circling around my waist as he burries his head into the crook of my neck. I shiver as his hot breathe fans over exposed skin.

"It is up to me, Thorin, to decide if you are worth such forgivness. And you do. So, I forgive you." I squeal as im suddenly thrown backwards. My head bounceing against the matress. Thorin hovers above me. His face just above mine.

"I don't deserve it. I don't think I ever will. I have done to much and said to little. There is blood on my hands that I don't think I can ever wash off. Amarlime." His lips touch mine for but a moment before peppering along my face. At the corners of my mouth and along my jaw. They trail down my neck and onto my shoulder.

"Then let me help you. Just as how you have helped me. And we can wash it off together." We both sit up. Embraced in one anothers arms.  He gives me another kiss. This one deep and full of fire. Lighting something up deep inside of me.

"Come. Lets get you some food. And then I can show you the hot springs beneath Erebor." I snort.

"Are you saying I smell?" He laughs.

"No. I'm saying I do and we both need to take care of one another. Pull each other out before we fall in to deep." He kisses me once more. "We still have a sanctum. A home. And it's not to late to build it back."

#thorin x reader #Thorin Oakenshield #The hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 4

The boys try to relax after meeting Dark, but Dapper is ticked off at Anti and there is still tension between Trickshot and Dok.

Tws for alcohol, images of dead bodies, and mentions of torture.

Part 4 - Dark's Memory

“Oh, but Dok, I’m tiredddddd.”

He draws it out like a kid who doesn’t want to do his chores, slipping down into the water until it reaches up to his chin, pouting against the waves of the pool. Dok grins at him and reaches out to snag his hand, leading him around in circles against the wall.

“Come on, my friend. Can’t be sitting around all day even if you’re tired.”

“Help me float?” asks Blue, getting up again and turning his back to Dok.

“Okay, if you want.”

He puts his hand against Blue’s back. Blue lies down against the water and lets Dok steady him, til he’s just resting on the surface of the water, drifting.

“No sleeping though,” says Dok, and Blue laughs. They both wear their shirts in the water. Dok itches at his chest. Through the kitchen window, you can see Trick cooking, and Red sits a few feet away from them, watching the forest and tap-tap-tapping his foot. Dok told him he should do something other than stand guard all day, but he hasn’t thought of anything yet.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! How are you all doing?

Red looks up and smiles at you. “Aw, been better, but you know. It’s okay.”

He glances over at Dok and Blue. “Getting really worried about Blue after how he was acting last night, but sun comes up and he wakes up and seems okay again. A little nausea this morning. I asked him if he was pregnant. He said that would be more fun than this.”

Red grins and kicks his feet. “He’s grumpy about it, but I just hope he keeps trying to stay up. I don’t blame him for being unhappy. I think, um. He really needs more help than he’s getting. But I don’t know how to get him it. Which is frustrating. I’m not really in charge right now, but I’m still big brother. I’m supposed to be looking after them. And I can’t.”

He shrugs. “But I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep the monster away if I can.”

He still has that kitchen knife, sitting on the grass beside him. He itches at the bandaid on his broken nose.

“How are you?”

Anonymous asked: Whatcha cooking, trick? Breakfast?

“Lunch, technically!”

He stirs enthusiastically at a pan full of ground beef, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and peas. “Making kima. Trying to use the perishables first. So we don’t have to get hungry just cause all the food goes bad. The fridge is really full! Hey, do you know what prosciutto is? There’s a ton in there, but I don’t wanna give Dok ham.”

Anonymous asked: (Chill scenes are totally cool! And I love reading anything you write so it's awesome) But hey! Pool time sounds like it could be fun and/or relaxing. And it could be good for Blue's (or any of yalls) health. -Pink

“Just don’t tell Dap we’re outside,” sighs Blue, standing up and running his hands through his hair. After a few weeks since he shaved it down to white, it’s beginning to grow out again, just a little, and he savors the growing strands. “He won’t stop talking about that thing in our yard. He says he won’t come into the house’s territory, but he wanted us to spend all day hiding. But we figured it already knows we’re here.”

He shrugs and looks back at Dok just in time to get splashed in the face by a sweep of Dok’s arm through the water. He gasps and slaps the water in front of him, sending it spraying up into Dok’s face. He laughs and retreats, cutting water with his hands as he backs away.

“Ass,” gripes Blue, smiling as he follows after him.

Anonymous asked: where is dap, if you don't mind me asking? is he upstairs?

“No, he’s hiding from Anti,” says Dok. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Anti’s so pissed at him he only looked for him once,” adds Blue. “He found him in the top cupboard of the pantry behind the juice-boxes and tried to drag him back upstairs, but Dapper wouldn’t stop throwing a fit, and Anti got so irritated he left before - to quote Anti - he pulled him apart tooth by tooth. You might be able to find him on the cameras if you try since Anti’s stopped coming for him. I hope that he’ll come when Trick has lunch. He eats like a shrew. A dieting shrew.”

“I need to have him out here exercising too,” sighs Dok. “He never get out of his little room most of the time.”

Anonymous asked: It's basically fancy italian ham, so says Google. Maybe Noodle and the rest of you would like it but yeah not the best choice for dok

“Noodle! Come here, baby!”

Trick kisses for his cat til he comes and gets him a slice of prosciutto. Noodle is delighted.

“You’re getting so big,” says Trick, petting his back. He’s a very long cat and getting longer, leggy and thin, still golden as the day he was born.

Anonymous asked: Red maybe you should take up drawing or coloring, just something to do with your hands. I know you have a lot worrying you but maybe it will help you de-stress and focus? I find it helps me anyway. A hobby might be good for you right now

Red nods, considering it. Yeah. He stands up. Sits down again. Stands up. Sits down.

He puts his chin in his hand and sighs, kicking at the grass.

“I haven’t… I don’t really have hobbies, ha. Usually I’m the one with the money for the month, you know, so I have to be thinking about food and entertainment and shit in one handful of cash. And when I do get entertainment stuff, it’s for Dap cause he’s alone in his room, or sometimes for the twins if Dok’s having to cut people up or Trick’s depressed and they need something to take their minds off it. Cause that’s what it is, yeah? Entertainment, it’s a need. In those cases at least. And if it’s not a need I don’t get it. That’s the rule. That’s how you stop your brothers from starving.”

He stands up again, staring out at the forest. “But now I guess I can go draw if I want, and it won’t be wrong. Cause it would have been wrong, yeah? To buy paper and pencils for myself. Dapper would need them more or we would need shit to eat more. And now we’re in this nice place after Dap and I about starved in Colombia and I’m just supposed to act like this is our normal and to do whatever I want. I don’t know how to do whatever I want. And I don’t want… I don’t want Anti to pretend this is our normal. Cause it isn’t. I been hungry too many times to let him try to tell me that.”

He pauses, shrugging. “Sorry, I went off. I do want to go find something to do. I wish I had something to color, that sounds fun. I could go look for books or something with black and white pictures. And art shit. I don’t know if there’s any here.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dap? how are you doing?

For a second, there is no sign of him - or not of him moving, anyway. He seems to have shucked off everything he didn’t want to wear as he ran, his tight black dress shoes discarded in the hallway, his clean white dress shirt dangling off the coat hook. There are cuff-links waiting to be stepped on. He may or may not be wearing pants.

But in the office with the grand brown desk and the high, glass-covered shelf full of alcohol in progressively fancy bottles, a slight motion alerts you to an irritated, red-rimmed eye peering slowly out from the side of the desk to check on the beeping noise from the camera - and then, just as quickly, ducking out of sight again.

Anonymous asked: hello, dap! is something wrong?

Liquid sloshes. Dapper glances back at you again, his mouth miserably down-turned and his eyes angry. He hides away again for a few minutes. He’s sick of Anti looking at him all the time.

“I hate Dark,” he spits finally, adjusting a little so you can see him. He’s got a blanket on and all his stuffed animals arranged beneath it around his legs. His pencils are scattered beneath the desk, his sketchpad covered in meaningless circles of colors he can’t tell the difference between. He throws back a bottle of Jameson and drinks deep and hateful. “I hate Anti for bringing us here. I want him to go away!” He coughs as the whiskey burns.

Anonymous asked: Ah... why are your clothes on the floor Dap?

“I don’t want to wear all this stupid shit he puts me in,” he signs. “I don’t want to be cute and perfect, I’m not his perfect little pet thing, not his dog to dress up in a tutu, not cute all the time, sometimes I want to be a man, or I at least want him to know I’m a man, not treat me like a little boy. I only want to dress up when I want to dress up and I don’t want any more stupid little kid hoodies or dumb socks unless I pick the dumb socks. I, I, me!”

He shakes his head, distress creasing through his anger, and he drinks like he’s got something to prove, his face red with crying and alcohol.

“Stupid baby stuck in my fucking crib all day.”

He sobs and then strikes the side of the desk, gritting his teeth. “Stupid little boy never runs from his dad.”

Anonymous asked: anti's not here right now, though. do you want to go be with your brothers for the time being? anti isn't here to be able to do anything to any of you.

“He shouted at me all morning, he’s angry,” grouses Dapper, flicking his golden Christmas knife up and down in his hand. “He said he’ll tie me up upside down until the blood rushes back into my head and makes me stop acting stupid; I said if he tries to make me stay in that room again I’ll bite his ear off in his sleep; he slapped me til I cried.”

His ear is bruised purple on the right and there are nail marks around his wrists. He shivers and curls in on himself, bitter and tired, scratching at a hippo stuffie with textured fur.

“I don’t want to go where everybody’s staring at me, I don’t want to go where Dark can see me, I don’t want to…”

Anonymous asked: Huh boy. Would you mind some drinking buddies? We don't have booze but I can act like a conversational bartender that takes all your problems and sound then into advice. Can't guarantee it'll fix things but we're listening

“That was most of my rant unless you get me started again,” says Dapper wearily, slumping back against the desk so his head disappears and you just see his skinny chest and legs poking out. The thought of it is funny and you hear him giggle, flipping over on his side to hide his face in his blankets.

“I’m sad. Comfort me, Panchito.”

He draws his stuffed Peruvian bear to his mouth for a kiss. It’s hard to tell if that’s his dry sarcasm again or not. He might just be drunk.

“My heart hurts.”

Anonymous asked: How much did you drink so far? Not too much to be dangerous for you I hope

He huffs out a tired sigh and shows you the bottle. There’s more than half of it left.

“You’re going to babysit me too? Not eighteen yet? Just because I don’t age. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask to watch everybody else get older around me while I still look so much younger. I didn’t ask for everybody to make me the baby. What’s wrong with being quiet and nice and cute sometimes? I still want my brother to respect me. I’m not little… I’m mute and I’m psychotic and I like being nice and wearing jumpers and sleeping with a bear. That doesn’t mean I’m not a grown-up. I am a grown-up and I’m clever and tough and I want things. I want to make choices. I’m not five. Not. And if I had got to make a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to come back to be toyed with by somebody who hurt me.”

His face scrunches up like he might cry, but he doesn’t. He rubs at his ruddy cheeks.

“But I still never go away… so maybe I’m just all talk. Just his baby brother.”

He stares down at the gold of the alcohol.

Anonymous asked: okay, that's fair, dap. do you want us to ask one of them to come be with you here instead? it might make you feel better to have someone like blue with you instead of being alone.

“I don’t want to get scolded,” his hands confess. “I know I’m being stupid. No one else has to share my stupid with me. I know I’m being grouchy and negative and unhappy. I know. They don’t have to put up with me while I’m like this.”

He is very small beneath the largeness of the empty office.

“Even Anti doesn’t put up with me when I’m being a brat, and I’m supposed to be his. Everybody likes me better when I’m smiling and put together. He always just leaves and comes back when I’m too tired or when I’m done sulking. That’s what he thinks he can do this time, just wait for me to decide it’s not worth it. And I always do. I always let it go. Because I know he doesn’t care, so why fight about it? Things are worse when he’s mad at me. But he really hurt me yesterday. That’s worse than when he used to smack me around all the time, before I snapped and he realized how scared he used to make me.”

nikkilbook asked: Red, what if you go find Dap and ask him to draw with you? Let you keep each other company while you do something for you.

“Where he at, though?” asks Red, ducking into the house. “Dap?”

No answer from the wide halls. He trails through the house looking for him.

Anonymous asked: If you want to be mad, J, be mad! Be drunk! These are your decisions and your emotions so express them. We want you to be safe but if you trust your judgement to drink responsibly by yourself, go for it, my guy.

“Be mad, be drunk,” he repeats a little more enthusiastically. After a moment he lowers his bottle and sighs.

“I am not being responsible, though. You are right. I don’t want my brothers to think I’m trying to hurt myself again.”

He sets the bottle gently aside, at least for a few minutes.

Anonymous asked: i don't think they'll mind much, dap. anti cares more about control than love, but the others don't. everyone has unhappy days, especially people in bad situations. we don't have to ask, and they don't have to agree, but we'll ask if you think it would make you feel better, okay? we can ask them not to scold you or anything too.

“He is my heart,” says Dapper cryptically, holding his knees to his chest. “That’s the rope he makes me wear.”

He turns at the sound of someone calling for him. He puts his head against his knees, mouth pursed, but after a moment, he tells you, “They can come see me if they want. But they can go, too, if they want. I have never been there for any of them, truth be told. Not for a long time, anyway. And even then, wasn’t I always just the needy little victim…”

He’s spiraling, his eyes getting dark. He covers his face with his hands.

Anonymous asked: i think they'll be happy to see you, dap. red's looking for you, he wants to know how you're doing. do you want us tell him where you are?

“I think it would be okay. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

He stares down at the floorboards.

“There was a while when Dok and Trick first broke when none of my brothers knew anything about me, just my name and that Anti loved me better than them. I couldn’t talk to them and I couldn’t see them, but I would hear them through the walls and pretend they loved me too. It was lonelier having them in the house than when it was just me and Anti. But even when I felt totally… just… unloved, even when he didn’t even know me, Red would sometimes buy presents for me and leave them outside my door. And it was like there was a little remnant of what we had that was still alive. Or like even if he didn’t even know me, he still would be my brother and look after me however he could.”

He blinks. “I’m rambling again. I am drunk. I don’t want him to have loved me better before he knew me than now, when he’s beginning to see who I am, that’s all.”

Anonymous asked: Dap, you are one of the bravest, strongest, most downright terrifyingly intelligent men i have ever seen. And heck, im a grown up. I still sleep with my stuffed animals! And I color just to color and i eat candy for breakfast from time to time. I watch cartoons and i cry and I do all sorts of things. But im still an adult, and yes, you are too. You are strong, and you'll get through this. -Pink

“Yes, I’m terrifying,” agrees Dapper, nodding his head, determined to believe it. “I’ve killed, like, a lot of people.”

He pauses, touches his mouth, scrunches up his face in thought.

“I guess that is the opposite side of the spectrum. In terms of being taken seriously, I want to be somewhere between Strawberry Shortcake and unattended luggage in an American airport, thank you.”

nikkilbook asked: Room with a desk and alcohol, Red.

Red turns towards the right side of the house, shooting you a confused look at half of Dapper’s clothes scattered around the hallway. He pushes on and into the office, stopping short in the doorway.

Dapper stares back at him with wide eyes and a trembling frown, wiping at his face and clutching his bear to his stomach. The Jameson shudders on the floor nearby, drained by a couple glasses. Red blinks.

He sighs through his nose and then moves to sit down beside Dapper, squishing himself into the space beneath the desk at his side. Dapper sniffles and looks anywhere but Red’s eyes, downcast and humiliated.

“Okay,” says Red, making himself comfy. “Give me that.”

Dapper startles and turns to him. He glances between Red and the bottle, blinking.

“Yeah, come on!”

Dapper lets a sigh drift out of him, disappointed. He is just the little kid of the family. He turns the bottle over to his brother.

“Yeah, that’s right,” says Red. “No fucking drinking alone.”

He tilts the bottle back and drinks. Dapper laughs, turning towards him, clasping his hands together over his heart.

“Red,” he signs, giggling.

“Fuck, that burns!” spits Red, shaking his head and his hands. “That’s nasty!”

“Can’t handle it?” teases Dapper, scooting closer to him, delighted.

“Hey, I haven’t had a drink in a long time, okay?”

“Chug, chug, chug, chug - ”

“Don’t even start!”

Red and Dap laugh, huddled over the alcohol and the stuffies, squished together beneath the desk. Dapper clasps his hand through the blanket, leaning forward to set his head down against his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: How's the liquor Red? Bad? Well probably not since this was a rich dude's stash but the difference between expensive and cheap probably doesn't matter for someone's whose goal is to get drunk

“That is correct, for one,” coughs Red. “And also I know jack-shit about alcohol, unfortunately.”

“It’s good!” says Dapper. “It’s really good.”

“Babe, it’s nasty.”

Dapper laughs. “You can’t tell.”

“I can’t tell. All alcohol is disgusting. I mean I just - I don’t get the appeal. If it’s not like the fruity ones that actually taste nice? It’s nasty. I have never find an alcohol I want more than just, like, a nice orange soda.”

“Do you guys want lunch?” hollers Trick from the other side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Get one of ur brothers to bring the food up like a delivery boy lol

“Heyyyy,” hollers Red down the hallway. “Bring me food!”

“No,” shouts back Dok.

“What does he want?”

“Someone to bring him food.”

“No!”

“Blue, you’re supposed to be my twin!”

“I’m sick! You should be bringing food to me, if anything! Aw, look, Trick’s got me a plate already. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

“Hey!”

“All of you shut the fuck up!” shouts Anti.

Just to piss him off, Dapper stands up and sticks his fingers in his mouth, whistling as loud as he can until Red leaps up and makes his stop, laughing and horrified at the same time. “You are one dumb, bold, black and white firecracker, little brother.”

“Guess that’s why we get along,” answers Dap.

Anonymous asked: damn, orange soda!! that is the best soda, you are an individual of refined taste, red. in terms of lunch, trick's making kima - Indian dish with veggies and beef, basically - it looks p good. are y'all gonna want any?

“I want kima. Come on, bud.”

“There’s the monster in the forest.”

“They’re not going to snatch you while I’m here, bud.”

“You don’t know that,” answers Dapper wearily, but he lets Red lead him towards the hall.

aether-mae asked: Y’all need to eat, and also drink some water or you’ll get hangovers. *paps both ur heads* stay safe kids

“Yes, we do,” agrees Red fondly, pulling him down the hall. “Come on, so. Hey! Whoa, man. How drunk are you?”

Dapper has crashed into his chest, blinking fast. “Dizzy,” he signs.

“You shouldn’t have had that much.”

“I didn’t!”

“Let’s just get you some food and water, okay? You’ll feel better.”

He leads him into the kitchen and then decides against sitting him down at the island, turning to leave him beside Blue on the couch. Dapper sways dizzily, rubbing at his head.

“Hey, my darling, what’s wrong?” asks Blue, reaching out for him. “Dok, come here.”

“He’s okay,” Red insists. “He just, uh. Got into the liquor!”

“Hey!” cries Dok, anger and alarm slicing through his face. “Hey, why! Why would you do that?”

“Dok, come on,” Red protests.

“No, don’t ‘come on’ me! Alcoholism runs in our family and he had a suicide attempt this month. Not to mention Haldol interacts with alcohol! You’ll be dizzy all day.”

Dapper shakes his head, staring up at Dok with big blue eyes. He didn’t know that.

“Don’t give the doctor puppy eyes! It’s stupid, Dap! You want to get to drinking everyday, huh? You want a fun hangover so someone has to look after you? You want to be drunk all the time and then I can’t get you to wake up and it’s four in the morning and I told you to stop, I told you not to have so much, I keep telling you - !”

“Dok!” Trick cuts him off.

Dok stops, closing his eyes.

Trick’s face is guilty and drawn in the kitchen. He turns heavily back to his cooking, dishing meat and veggies onto flatbread.

immabethehero asked: Ooh what are you having???

“We are having kima,” says Trick wearily. “It’s meat and vegatables with paprika and curry powder. You put it on flatbread.”

Everyone’s gone mostly quiet, Red shuffling his feet against the carpet. Blue lets his head fall against Dapper’s shoulder. “I’m taking a nap, good night.”

Dapper presses his head against Blue’s. Trick brushes his hand against Dok’s back as he passes his brother, still standing in the middle of the room, scowling down at the floor.

Anonymous asked: Liquor on an empty stomach leads to a nasty hangover. Go get yall some lunch! And drink some water too. Please and thank you!

“Yes, eat,” insists Dok with a sigh, taking a plate from Trick and giving it to Dapper. “So you’re not sick. Can’t be drinking without food. And water. I’ll get you a bottle if I can find one.”

He goes digging around for a water bottle in the kitchen while Trick passes out food. He slices up a huge white peach and gives everybody a sweet, thick slice as footsteps come down the stairs and Anti appears on the banister, staring moodily down at them. Red and black burns disappear into his shirt from his shoulders and neck, but he doesn’t flinch or whimper, just scowls.

Dapper is tense. Dok tries to ignore their brother as he brings him a water bottle clinking with ice, sitting cautiously down beside Blue and Dapper. Red hovers in front of them, folding his kima into a taco and taking a bite in a pretty good semblance of normality.

“It’s good, Trick.”

“Don’t have to sound surprised.”

“Thanks for cooking.”

“Course.”

immabethehero asked: You know what you should try? Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. They’re from America and they’re delicious!

Everyone glances at the camera. “Uh, yeah,” says Trick. “Those sound good. I’d have to have a way to look the recipe up. But I can make good biscuits. Better than KFC, seriously.”

“I think maybe Blue did actually fall asleep on me,” says Dapper uncertainly, trying not to move too much.

Red sits down beside his brother and props up the plate of kima on his twin’s thighs, just in case he spills, taking enthusiastic bites of his lunch. “You’ll let him stay with us again tonight, yeah, Anti? He’s so tired. You don’t want to wear a body like this right now anyway, right?”

Anti shrugs, his eyes flickering. He turns away, playing with his knife, glancing back up the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Laying it on a little thick there, Dok. I understand you're upset but you don't need to reprimand him in front of everyone, least of all Trick. Taking care of others mistakes that they knowingly make can be hard, but harsh words won't improve things.

Dok raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Trick sighs, shaking out his head.

“Let Dok have his reaction and Dok will let Dapper have his,” he says. “He already backed off. I don’t need to be coddled like I can’t handle the consequences of the choices I’ve made. But thank you.”

cest-mellow asked: you guys should have a pool party ! take your mind of all the stress, dark shouldnt come to your house territory anyway right..?

“Yes, right,” says Red, watching out of the corner of his eye as Anti decides to head back upstairs, stomping with every step. He’s gotten used to watching for Anti’s warning signs with his other siblings, but he has no idea how his brother will react to Dapper resisting like this. He’s never seen the two of them fight in front of the others, and he’s never seen Dapper quite this mad at him. Any of his other siblings could have lost fingers for the things Dapper’s done in the past twenty-four hours. Red shivers and shakes the thought off. “Yeah, Anti says Dark won’t come into the boundaries of the house, whatever that means. And if they show up in the yard again, I’ll fucking take a knife to them, swear by it!”

“Don’t talk like that,” mumbles Blue, rubbing at his eyes. “They’re not something you should mess with, I don’t think.”

“Well, I think we should go outside and sit around the pool, anyway,” says Red, reaching out to start tugging on pants legs - oh, Dapper is wearing slacks after all. Red grins up at his siblings. “Come on, come on! Need some sun!”

“We were just in Peru!”

“And still so pasty white!”

They end up sitting around the pool, Trick and Dok side-by-side at the far end, kicking their legs in the water and making sure the other eats enough while Dapper sinks down into the water like a tiger on the hunt, warm in the water. Red sits Blue down in the pool chairs at the side and they take a moment to look at each other, mimicking each other’s expressions as a game until Red makes a face so stupid Blue snorts with laughter and breaks character, sitting back in his chair, smiling in the sun.

aether-mae asked: Y’all keep an eye on Dap while he’s in the pool in case he’s still dizzy

“Good idea,” agrees Dok.

Dapper puts a hand to his forehead and faints dramatically, slumping back into the water. Red actually does leap up to his feet before Dapper surfaces again, grinning.

“Not funny, Dapper!”

“Dapper, that’s not funny!”

“Carver! Don’t!”

He giggles under the weight of their disapproval and they seem to roll their eyes at him as a collective, smiles flickering on their mouths.

Anonymous asked: Ah the facade of normality, so sweet yet so frail

Red and Blue glance over at you, eyebrows shooting up. Blue doesn’t seem to appreciate the message; Red looks a little unnerved.

“Don’t be weird,” grumbles Blue, turning back to his family.

“That’s my job,” says Red, kneading his hands together. “To make things feel normal when they’re not. Or safe when they’re not. Or okay when they’re not. I - ”

Blue puts a hand on his knee. “It was a weird message,” he says, squeezing his knee. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Red nods, turning his attention back to him.

“Hey, will you go get me more water?” asks Blue.

Red is happy to do so. He gets up, taking their cups with him.

It is then that your screen changes in a way it has never glitched, fizzled, or blacked out before.

Someone has taken an Illumination effect to your screens and turned the color all the way down, down, leaving everything monochrome and night-struck, casting them all into shadow. Blue sips at his water as Red returns and you see something smoky and liquid fill up the glass as he puts it against his mouth. In his chair, Red tilts slowly back, until his body is stiff and unmoving against the back of the chair. Dapper is not rising from the pool. Dok and Trick have fallen asleep against each other, and their faces, as you watch, grow more and more hollow. The skin tears on their grey cheeks and white bones glimmer in the dead light of the sun as the color of the pool darkens and darkens and darkens. Blood drips from Blue’s mouth as his eyes flicker and close.

“But you know the truth, don’t you?” comes a cold, drawling voice, deep enough to drown in. “It is just a face - sweet as honey. Frail as mortal bone.”

There is an echo to the voice, not layered like Anti’s, but repeating after it, sometimes changing the way they said it.

“Frail as mortal bone…” it whispers.

“I suppose he put you up to this. You always do whatever he tells you. Play any game he gives you. His loyal, naive little followers. But it doesn’t much matter,” shrugs Dark, flickering into view, blue and red, at the edge of the forest, standing on a cane. They do not appear to you the way they appeared to Anti. Gone is the rot, the decay, the death of them. They are upright and beautiful, with black eyes that glitter like the stomach of the night sky. Black hair curls neatly around their ears and eyes. They are dressed neater even than Dapper, a suit perfectly tailored along the fine curves of their strong body.

They look harmless, respectable, attractive. They are smiling at you.

“I like playing games, you see, with anyone other than him. He’s not here right now,” their voice drawls, low and whispered, as though to make you lean closer to your screen. “So I have a proposition for you, old friend.”

“I have a proposition for you, old friend,” spits the echo.

“It looks like you’ve been watching these poor pets a long time. Attached, are you? I can see glimpses, here and there… illness, torture, sickness in their minds… does it just kill you to watch them being hurt again and again, never getting away?”

“Never getting away? Trapped? Does it just kill you…”

“Bring one of them to me,” says Dark, smiling broadly at you. Their teeth are white like a snake’s. “Bring all of them to me, if you want. And I’ll be kind. I promise. They can rest a while. I have people who can give them anything they want.”

“Anything they want.”

“And no one will hurt them while they’re with me.”

“While they’re with us.”

“But if you don’t… I have more creative ways to bring them with me.”

They smile at you, dark eyes flashing. At the poolside, Red is on the ground, unmoving. Dok and Trick’s chests bleed as twins. Dapper seems to be glitching, thrashing with drowning one moment, still the next, thrashing, still, thrashing, still.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Dark whispers.

They wink. They disappear.

“Thank you, Gigi,” you hear faintly, and then it is all over.

Your screens are normal again. It is a sunny, beautiful day. The boys are unharmed, Dapper chasing a tiny frog around the side of the pool while Red and Blue split another peach and Dok and Trick splash water at each other, laughing. A bird calls, overhead. Everyone is fine.

pine-storm-season asked: Cameras went weird for a moment, was that just for us? It's probably not anything important, I'm just curious if you guys noticed anything about it too.

“Cameras went weird?”

Red turns to pick up a handheld, turning it in circles as he examines it.

“Looks fine,” says Blue.

“Yeah, I don’t know. We weren’t paying close attention, though.”

Anonymous asked: The boys might not have noticed that... "thing", but did Anti also see it?

Anti shoots you a look from his bed, where he’s sitting with about six computers surrounding him or perched on his lap. “I don’t know what the hell you assholes are talking about, but nothing happened in my systems. If something happened, it went through your end of the system, so sucks to be you if you have a virus other than me, but I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine. He looks pissed off and exhausted and unhappy. But that’s probably unrelated.

Anonymous asked: Uh Anti should you really just be going sucks to be us considering that the one who sort of appeared to us seems to be threatening your boys...

Anti stares at you for a moment. Then he bursts into laughter, incredulous. “Yeah, I reckon they fucking did! I was the one who invited them to play this game, you know that right? Fuck. Obviously they threatened them, I told them to try and goddamn kidnap them! Oh, goodness… sometimes I wonder about the lot of you.”

Anonymous asked: So what's your plan here then, Anti? Wouldn't you want to keep them safe from other stuff??

“I thought I explained. I never understand why humans don’t understand when I explain things. I don’t understand what they don’t understand.” He pounds on his keyboard as he types, frowning. “I told you this is someone I… trust. I mean, it’s Dark. They’re my… they wouldn’t hurt my pets. We’re just playing games, that’s all. Dark knows me. I know Dark.”

cest-mellow asked: why would you want dark to kidnap the boys, anti? what happens if they succeed?

“If they snag one of them, they can have Dap for a little while,” says Anti, grinning. “That was the deal we made in the forest. But if not, they’ll help me like I want them to. And that’s the thing, really - even if they do win, I bet they’ll still help me do what I want. Just might have to make up for it in… other ways.”

His smile only grows. He glances out the window like he’s waiting to see Dark again, swaying slightly on the bed.

Anonymous asked: Doesn't it worry you that they know about the cameras and can show us things that you can't see? You don't see that going sideways?

“Fucking Gigi! I’ll kill him! He got into my cameras?”

He leaps to his feet and stands at the window, peering out at the forest, beaming. “Fuck, I knew that little cheat would ask the others for help. Well, doesn’t matter. Gigi may be a force to be reckoned with, but I bet Red can out-hack him. I’ll get him a computer.”

Anti turns back to you, a fang poking out of his mouth. “Besides, I don’t care what they show you. There’s nothing you can do about any of this.”

bupine asked: what other ways, anti? hopefully not something like sacrificing another brother. trick wouldn't like that, would he?

Anti snorts. “Oh, fuck… no. You misunderstand. I meant… other things. But I assume some of you are minors, so I won’t go into detail.“

Anonymous asked: I volunteer Trick

Trick blinks, huddling down at Dok’s side. “Hey! What am I being volunteered for? Guys? Ha, Dok, they’re Hunger Games-ing me. You gotta be my Katniss.”

Dok doesn’t look back at him. His eyes are fixed on the doorway to Trick and Red’s room.

“Dok,” Trick insists, pushing at his shoulders. “Hey, the cameras are talking, you like that. Did you float away on me again?”

Dok shakes his head, turning back to his twin for a moment. “What? Oh, no. I’m here.”

“You’re jumpy all day,” whispers Trick, nuzzling his head down against his shoulder.

“It’s past eight,” says Dok. “Anti should have come to get Blue and Dapper and I. But he hasn’t.”

“He’s just having a hard couple days. Let him rest. It’s okay.”

Dok just stares at the door.

The night has come quietly. He is not the only one who’s tense. Red and Dapper are huddled on the windowsill signing and whispering, Blue laid sleepily across Red’s lap, though his keen blue eyes, at the sound of Trick and Dok speaking, turn and fix on you.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you doing okay?

Red and Dapper pause to look at their sibling and Blue sits up, waving their concern away. “Getting into bed,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Red answers him, reaching out to pull his head in for a kiss.

Blue crawls into bed, carrying a handheld with him. His eyes shift around the room in warning.

“I thought Anti would come back and make us go upstairs with us, but he’s left us alone. That means he’s planning something. It’ll be worse than just dragging us up the stairs or knocking our heads against sinks until we stop fighting.”

He sighs, deep and hurting.

“I don’t know how to protect them from it. Any of them. Even if he doesn’t touch Trick, he gets his trauma secondhand from watching the rest of us get beat and then it’s all buried under this veneer of amnesia and fake love. Even if he doesn’t touch Dapper, he’ll shove him back into a headspace he hates and make him a slave again. Even if he doesn’t touch me, I have to feel him beneath the skin.”

He pulls a pillow to his chest for a hug, closing his eyes. He needs to calm down.

“I think I could almost convince Red to get them and go,” he whispers. “But there’s that thing in the forest…”

He shakes his head and sighs. His eyes flash open. He looks at you. “I promise Dok and I are working on things,” he whispers, so quiet you can barely hear him over the sound of Pot Noodle hopping up onto the bed and padding towards him to purr like a motorboat in his ears. “I promise…”

Anonymous asked: You're doing great, Blue. This is a really hard situation. You're doing incredibly well, okay? We're here to help, and you have your brothers with you too.

“Thank you,” he says. “That’s nice, really. I want to - I want you to have a better story to read. I think about that sometimes. I want you to see us happier. I want that.”

Dapper giggles in the windowsill and Blue looks up, some of the stress fading into warmth on his face. He and Red are huddled together over one of Dapper’s old sketchbooks, coloring together, the colored pencils you got him for Christmas scattered across the ledge. Blue hums a little, his foggy eyes seeming to clear, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, they’re here. They’re with me.”

Anonymous asked: dok, you good?

Dok is humming to himself, something you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him do. It is a discordant melody. His leg bounces in time with the beat. Trick doesn’t let himself look worried. He wraps his arms around Dok’s shoulders and pulls his body close. He expects Dok to go stiff and silent like he sometimes does. The best thing to do has always just been trying to bring him back down to earth.

“Yes, fine,” says Dok.

His face tightens with pain. Trick is hurting him from holding on too tight. But his twin doesn’t know he’s been beat, cut, and strung up by chain all within the last few nights, and he won’t let him know. He can’t. He can’t go upstairs again. He can’t stay upstairs again. There are spiders in the closet. There are spiders on his skin. He’s crying.

“I am right here,” says Trick, again and again, buried low against his shoulder, pushing you slightly away with his foot. “I am right here.”

“He’s going to come hurt me,” whimpers Dok, hiding against him. “Every night, I… I…”

“I think it’s ‘they,’ buddy,” Trick corrects him gently. “They won’t get you long as you’re in the house.”

Anonymous asked: Trick I know you mean well but I don't think anything you could say to Dok would make him feel better. Everything's a bit off but just... stay with him.

“That’s my job, to make him feel better,” whispers Trick, and something in his voice is wounded and aware. Something in his voice knows this is not wrong. “That’s my job…”

He leans back a little to look at him, but Dok just follows his body, chasing the side of his face with his own and pressing them back together like puzzle pieces stuck together in the box. Trick touches the back of his head.

“You are still a half a world away from me,” mourns Henrik, touching Trick’s wrist. “Wo ist mein zwilling?”

“Here,” protests Trick. “Hey, don’t say that, don’t, I… ich bin da. Always.”

Henrik thumbs at the pulse in his wrist.

Anonymous asked: trick, be gentle with him, okay? i don't think he wants to be squished right now. dok, you're gonna be okay. i know, it's scary and confusing and awful. but you're not in danger right now, bud. try to remember that, okay? you're not in danger right now.

Trick eases his grip around him, confused enough that he glances over to you for guidance. He strokes gently at his back. “It’s true. Not in danger.”

“Never feels that way anymore,” mumbles Dok. “Never.”

Trick bites down hard on his lip. He’s known Dok could probably use counseling for a long time, but it scares him every time he feels like he can hear Dok reading out of a DSM when he’s talking about himself. He scratches his fingers across his brother’s scalp.

“Tell me one thing I could do to make today better,” Trick urges him, trying to smile. “Yeah? If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong or what’s going on, you don’t have to. I’ll just be here. Tell me instead something that’ll make tonight better, okay? Cause we got just about everything we want in this big ol’ house. Right?”

A smile pulls at Dok’s tired lips.

“Yeah, there. Come on. What’s something that could make right now better?”

“I don’t know,” says Dok. “I don’t know, I… I’m sorry, I don’t have ideas.”

Anonymous asked: blue, and i suppose everyone, do you wanna know something funny? dark is anti's Complicated lover haha

Did I say that Blue was exhausted? Have you seen the dark bags beneath his eyes, the aching way he holds himself, the leaning of his body against the thin strength of the cane? Have you seen Blue’s fatigue in every line of his skin?

Suddenly, he is wide awake.

“No. Fucking. Way!” You hear him cry, and immediately he’s laughing so hard he shakes Noodle on his chest. “Holy shit, holy shit!”

“That’s horrible,” cries Red. “Hey, don’t even joke about that! That thing looked like a goddamn skeleton!”

“No way, no way!” howls Blue. “Nooooo, that’s too funny, holy shit! Are you kidding me? No, how does Anti even pretend to be anything’s ‘lover?’ Holy cow… oh, I don’t want to imagine the things I’m imagining, hahaha!”

Dapper rolls his eyes so hard they might get stuck back there and gags.

Anonymous asked: maybe a blanket, or a bit of food, dok? or should we see if there's something else you'd like?

“I could build you a fort,” says Trick, grinning. “With pillows and blankets.”

Dok smiles at him, entertained by his enthusiasm. He shakes his head.

“No? I could… wrap you up like a burrito. With Noodle on top.” He pulls his cat off the bed and presents him to Dok. “Do you want to be all wrapped up with your Uncle, Noodle Pot?”

Noodle meows, sniffing at Dok’s face. Dok closes his eyes, feeling his whiskers across his cheeks.

“I could feed you, yeah, all you want,” says Trick, touching his brother’s ribs, proud to feel a little weight on his body again. He hates the magicians for a lot of things, but at least they fed him well. “There’s brownie mix in the cupboard, you know. I been saving it.”

Dok tilts his head, biting on his lip. “That… might be good.”

“Yeah?”

Dok nods, smiling.

“Come with me,” says Trick, leading him to his feet. “You can curl up in the loveseat and I’ll make you brownies, okay?”

Dok loves him.

“Yes,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: just gonna throw this out there but trick uh, anti hurts him. you could help him by keeping him away from anti, and not mentioning him. if you don't believe us, look at his bruises

“Red and Dap are getting along,” says Trick. “Look at them, oh-so-secret, bent over their little book together.”

He almost wants to make fun of them - usually, that makes Dok laugh - but he can’t. Not at that. It’s… nice. It’s good.

“Good for Dapper not to be alone,” murmurs Dok, sitting in the loveseat as promised, petting Noodle luxuriously. His brother’s cat squirms his way up his body and rests against his neck, purring warmly. “And he isn’t the only one getting on better with Red.”

Trick glances back at his twin almost guiltily, stirring brownie mix and eggs and milk together. “I… don’t want to be at odds with him, I decided. We fight, but we’re brothers too.”

He pauses, pouring the mix into a pan. “That’s… okay, right?”

“Why would it not be okay?” asks Dok, confused.

“I don’t know. I just want it to be okay that I - that I sometimes - that you’re not the only person I love.”

Dok stares at him from the chair.

“Like - I want you to know you’re still important, even if I have other people. It doesn’t mean I love you any less if I love somebody else.”

Trick’s cheek stings suddenly. He startles, reaching up to touch his face. He can almost feel the indent of fingers against his skin. He doesn’t know why. It disturbs him.

“Hey, dummkopf,” says Dok, and he turns to see his brother staring warmly back at him.

“Love’s not brownie mix,” Dok tells him, grinning. “It doesn’t thin out as you spread it.”

Trick grins back at him, huffing out a laugh and popping open the fridge. “So what you’re saying is it’s more of a viscous Jello of some kind?”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t know what it is, I just know it’s not caramel cluster brownie mix.”

Trick laughs.

Dok’s voice has gone soft and earnest by the time he speaks again.

“You do not belong to anyone, my brother,” he says. “Your heart doesn’t. It was meant to be free.”

“You could write poetry for Blue,” answers Trick, only barely teasing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dok repeats, with feeling.

“What bruises?”

“What?”

Trick’s voice has changed in an instant, flinty and trembling. Dok looks up from Noodle, confused. Trick is staring at the camera. Then his eyes flicker over to Dok, hard. “What bruises, Dok?”

Dok pulls their cat closer to his stomach, shaking his head. He turns his eyes away from his twin.

“Why do you keep getting bruises? Show me.”

“No,” says Dok. “Leave it alone, Trickshot.”

Anonymous asked: hey, trick? please leave it be for now. come back to that later, maybe, but i think it would be good for you two to just hang out with each other and be happy for a bit.

Trick’s eyes flash between you and Dok, advancing on his brother. For a moment, he considers it - you see it in the uncertainty that crosses through his face.

But Trick, though he often forgets his aggressor, is, in many ways, fighting just as hard as Blue and Dok are. And he knows something is wrong.

“This is scary,” he says, his voice cracking. “Don’t you get that?”

Dok laughs loud and broken. “Do I get that? Do I?”

“This is the first time in my life you’ve kept something from me,” Trick keeps on. “Someone’s hurting you - or you’re hurting yourself. And you won’t tell me about it.”

“I need you to trust me - ”

“No, I need you to trust me!”

“Well, I don’t!” screams Dok, loud enough to startle Noodle off his lap. Their cat streaks away, racing back towards their room. “I don’t! You think I’m fucking hypnotized when you’re the one whose head is messed up! You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you! I can’t count on you! I can’t trust you! Fuck, it’s like you’re not even my brother half the time!”

Trick’s mouth hangs open. His eyes aren’t even hurt - just horrified.

Dok hears himself breathing heavy. Hears the echo of the words like an afterimage on his tongue.

“I - I - ”

Trick can’t speak around his stammer. His hand flutters and comes to rest over his heart.

And then he regains himself again.

And he straightens up.

And he looks at Dok again, kneeling gently down beside him.

Dok feels his own eyes burn. He doesn’t even know why.

Trick touches the open palm of his hand and they breathe together, side-by-side.

Long minutes pass. Trick lets his anger and his hurt go.

Just like that. It doesn’t matter. He’s what matters. His zwilling.

When he pulls back the long sleeve of Dok’s torn coat and finds dark fingerprints in his wrist, Dok does not stop him. Trick rests his forehead against the bruises and grieves them.

“Just… tell me?”

Dok is threading his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t reply.

Anonymous asked: trick, please. i'm not gonna tell you what to do or not to do, but just,,, be aware? pushing dok on this will hurt both of you. like, emotionally. you're picking the scab on an infected wound here. do what you will, but think about what it is you want to do here

Trick sighs very long and very deep. He gives a shaken laugh. Doesn’t know why.

“Does someone know?” he whispers. “Someone who loves you?”

Dok nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Is it going to stop soon?”

Dok blinks and tears run down his cheeks. “I really hope so, my brother.”

Trick kisses his bruised wrist, resting his head against Dok’s lap.

“I want to take you to Singapore,” he says suddenly, curling his fingers around Dok’s. “I really think you would have liked it there. I thought about you every time I was happy. I could show you all the places I liked.”

“That would be fun,” says Dok. “I want to push you in the Lion fountain.”

“Ohhh, Dok,” says Trick, because what the fuck else is he meant to say? “Ohhh, Dok.”

He would like to give him worlds and worlds, but all he has are brownies.

Anonymous asked: dok, are you going to say? you don't have to though, love, it's an honest question.

“I just - I just want to see you trying to think for yourself again,” whispers Dok. “Please? It scares me when you don’t act like yourself. I think maybe, secretly, he’s suicidal or wanting to hurt himself again.”

“No, Dok, I feel good,” protests Trick, clutching at him. “I promise, I promise! I would tell you, I promise.”

“But there are these moments where you’re not okay. I keep seeing them! Like suddenly you’re freaking out and you need to break in half.”

“It’s just - I don’t know why that happens, but it never lasts long, bro, it never does.”

“I’m scared you’d get angry at me if I told you the truth,” admits Dok in a croak. “I’m scared I would see just how much you’re really not yourself. That maybe I would think you aren’t going to be yourself again.”

“Hey, stop,” answers Trick. “Look, that… don’t, that fucking stings. Don’t say shit like that. Like I’m losing you. Hey, it’s not fair. I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trick rubs at his reddened face, sniffling as he gets up to check the brownies.

Dok turns away. “I think you already know who did this anyway,” he adds, so soft you’re not sure Trick hears it. “But it’s too terrible for you to admit.”

Whether or not he did, Trick doesn’t turn around. He is getting the brownies out of the oven. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t.

Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe.

“I think you already know,” repeats Dok, even quieter. “I think you do.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dok? you and trick and your other brothers will be okay. i know it might be hard to believe that, but don't lose hope, okay? you're gonna be okay. things will get better. i promise.

“Every time I look at him I think, over and over again, ‘I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here,’“ says Dok in a hush. “It’s the worst part of the torture. I have to get him out of here. He doesn’t even know.”

He digs his fingernails into his palms and closes his eyes, trying to find his strength again, his hope, like you said.

“I don’t want to be tortured anymore,” he says, his voice creasing. “Things have to get better. I’m scared all the time. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here. You promised, yeah? You promise…”

Anonymous asked: Hows the coloring coming guys?-Pink

“Good,” says Red cheerfully, bonking his head against Dapper’s as a sign of affection. Unfortunately, Dapper is not familiar with this form of affection, and he reels back like a startled cat, nearly falling off the windowsill. Red doesn’t notice. “Dap said I could color his old drawings since he never uses color. And I was like, bro, I don’t want to ruin your drawings! They’re yours! But he says he can hardly tell the difference and he doesn’t mind.”

“I have dozens of sketch books,” says Dapper. “These old ones aren’t even that good.”

“Hey, don’t be a dumb-ass,” protests Red, genuinely affronted on his behalf. “They’re really good!”

He holds up a black and white hummingbird. Color is seeping into its feathers, starting at the breast. Red is not particularly neat in his coloring, but his colors have an organization of their own to them, like he’s giving motion to the body of the bird.

“They’re all good!”

Red begins flipping through pages. A bear with its teeth showing. A city in Japan through a small window. Anti. A raccoon, a pinata, a half-dozen clocks, a dark figure with swept-back hair.

Red blinks.

Red stops.

Red stares.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, that’s the Darkness.”

He stares up at Dapper. Dapper stares down at the floor, mouth twisted.

Eyes scared.

“Dapper? What’s going on?”

Anonymous asked: dap, do you feel like saying? it's okay if you don't, this is an extremely stressful situation and i think red will understand.

“Red, Anti won’t listen,” signs Dapper rapidly. “He doesn’t understand. For once, it’s not his fault, but he doesn’t.”

“If he won’t listen to you, that is his fault,” answers Red humorlessly, and you hear a little of his twin’s bitterness in his mouth.

“Be that as it may. You and me and - well, Max - ”

“Max,” repeats Red, for no reason at all.

“We’re the only ones who know about what I did!”

Red sighs, trying to think. “Slow down, slow down. You’re talking about… when you snapped?”

Dapper’s eyes are wide, soaking in moonlight. He nods once. “Do you remember?”

pine-storm-season asked: Could you elaborate, please, Dap? I don't think we really know what happened. You don't have to, though.

“We talked about it. How our old master forgot.”

Red’s eyebrows raise. “Right… Max said he went to see that guy, J - ”

Dapper shoves his hands over Red’s mouth, eyes wide. He pauses for a second before drawing away, making sure Red gets the message.

“Right,” says Red, flushed. “Guess that isn’t a safe name to say.”

“Our old master forgot us,” says Dapper. “Our creator. Even though he made us. When Anti got his hands on him, I was psychotic and I was scared for him. I snapped - and created a whole separate timeline from the correct one.”

“Right,” says Red. “Like a timeline where we shouldn’t even exist. Where none of us happened, so Anti can never hurt him. That’s why the cameras said there should be videos of us on that Youtube channel, but there aren’t. Because this is a different timeline.”

“Yes.”

“Dap, we better pray Anti is asleep.”

“He’ll just think we’re losing it if he hears us talking like this. But that’s the timeline we’re in now, Red - one where it’s like we never even existed.”

Red pauses, picking at his lip. “So no one would know we exist.”

“Right.”

“Even people we used to know, people we know we had connections with… to them, it’s like we never existed.”

“Right!” cries Dapper. “That’s what you have to remember me saying, or the rest doesn’t make sense. I snapped the timeline. That’s why our old creator doesn’t remember us. That’s why no one remembers us. Like we talked about at the motel in Colombia. Okay? So listen: I broke the timeline trying to protect our creator and I spliced different pieces together. Now, it’s like no one created us at all, like we just came to be. So no one remembers us at all, even if we think they should. Understand?”

Red laughs. “But, Dap, that’s not true!”

Dapper blinks, drawing back from him. “How do you mean?”

“People do remember us,” Red insists. And then, softer: “Max remembers me.”

Dapper looks away, thinking. He rubs at his mustache. Red can almost see his little brother’s brain whirring away like the inside of a computer.

“But… the old master doesn’t remember us.”

“Well, that’s not really true either,” says Red, making Dapper’s head snap up. “Remember? The way he reacted to Max coming to his door wasn’t normal. He didn’t act like Max was crazy. Max said he kept saying our names. Over and over and over.”

“Like he was trying to remember,” says Dapper uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“Like, even though the timelines snapped…”

“There’s still some people who remember us. Even though it’s like we didn’t exist.”

“Why would they do that?”

Red shrugs, looking down at his hands, fidgeting. “Dap, I - when I found Max, it wasn’t like he was… new. I mean, I forgot everything about him, yeah. But it was still like… like he was a piece of me.”

Dapper looks down at his hands.

“Maybe,” he says after a moment. “Maybe it’s possible, that even though I broke the timeline and made it like we just popped into existence instead of being created… maybe there were some people who were so much a part of us, and us so much a part of them, that I couldn’t just take us away from them.”

“And they remember,” agrees Red softly. “Like we’re trying to remember. Like… girls who smell like cigarettes. Like Trick said. She’s a part of him no matter what happens and what Anti takes or what timelines you shift. Some things - some things don’t get erased. Not even by powerful magic. Some people are too important to forget even if you did snap the timeline.”

Dapper pulls at his beard, silenced by the realization. Red turns his head, peering out the window, where the great darkness of the forest waits, looking back at him.

“So the question is… was Anti important enough to Dark for them to remember him?”

Dapper curls his hands together over his heart, closing his eyes.

“And what will they do to us if they don’t?”

#chapter four #writers of jack

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 15

Catch up on Chapter 14 here

You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

or

You’re missing your best friend like crazy.

Word count: ~3.3k

A/N: I can’t believe there’s only two chapters left after this! Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who’s taken the time to read this, and endless thank you’s to everyone who has reached out with feedback ❤️

Chapter Fifteen September 2019

Fall in California doesn’t look the same as it does in Michigan, but you wish it did. Although you’re glad winters here only involve mild weeks in the fifties and sixties, you do miss the atmosphere of gray, rainy September days, leaves shriveling up and falling off of the trees, and changing out your wardrobe into something cozier. Sure, the pumpkin spice trend is still active, but pumpkin spice lattes don’t taste the same with eighty degree temperatures and the shining sun.

Maybe you’re homesick because you’re desperate for your surroundings to match your insides. 

Van wasn’t kidding about the band’s workload this month. You’re kicking yourself for taking these last months for granted, for thinking that that was what it meant to miss a busy Van. Pining and pouting over a Van that you basically saw once a week? That wasn’t so exhausted from back-to-back shows that he made time to call, or at least respond to your texts? Who spent enough time in one place that you could actually go visit him on tour?

You had been so naive. So, so, fucking naive. And September was absolute torture to prove it. And it would feel much, much better to slog through this month on rainy sidewalks crusted with damp leaves, a crisp breeze trying to sneak through the seams of your coat.

But instead the world just spins on, leaving you behind. September is a new beginning for many people, who gladly chatter about it everywhere they go. UCLA students are starting to return to the area, bouncing around in their backpacks with iced coffees, and at work your co-workers are returning from their eventful summers refreshed and ready to end the year with a bang. There are back-to-school sales on everything, from spin classes to puppies in a petstore window, and the happier everyone is about the new season the more alone you feel.

Because that’s a great way to sum up how you feel, really: alone. It was the fucking worst. You’d never been someone who had a problem being alone! You’d purposely decided to live alone; you had practically skipped for joy down the sidewalks when you’d broken up with your last boyfriend. You had a nice friend group with the other girls at work, and of course you had Mary, so what else could an independent woman like you need? Certainly not a boyfriend or a girlfriend to make you feel fulfilled. Things wouldn’t even be different if Van was your boyfriend, you try to convince yourself. He’d still be busy. You’d still be rooted in L.A.. You’d still be just as depressed as you are right now.

You don’t believe that one bit.

\\

Got that reservation, Van texts you one night after a rare phone call. You’d asked him to try and get Mary and Theo a table for their anniversary, and apparently he’d pulled through. You beam to yourself as he sends another text with the reservation information, and then decide to give Mary a call.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Is Mary’s greeting. “Has Van kidnapped you?”

You don’t have the heart to tell her it’s the opposite, actually. You’re so trapped in your lonely self-pity you don’t really have the energy or desire to socialize with others right now. In your heart right now, it’s Van or bust.

“Maybe,” You joke, although you feel like you don’t sound very convincing. “Speaking of Van, he might happen to have a reservation next week that he can’t make…” You grin as your voice trails off, “And maybe he accidentally made the reservation under your name?”

Mary audibly gasps down the line. “He got us a table?” She squeals, but you can hear she’s trying to hold back her excitement until she knows for sure.

“I might have called in a favor from him,” You laugh as you listen to Mary’s excitement at your confirmation.

“He is an absolute angel,” She gushes. “You need to marry him, like, now.”

You’re sure that this time your laugh definitely sounds hollow. You’ve never admitted your love for Van, even though Mary questions you about it regularly and never seems convinced with your denials. While you usually tell her everything, your feelings for Van have always felt like a giant bruise, something best not exposed. You don’t think you could stand the teasing, or Mary’s typical meddling. And right now, considering your heart is one oozing wound, you’re thankful for your own secret-keeping.

“I just wanted to let you know,” You start to wind down the conversation. Your phone has pinged with another text from Van, and you don’t want to waste this opportunity to catch up with him. “I’ll screenshot the reservation stuff and text you.”

“Tell Van I said thank you! We said thank you. Like, seriously. He’s amazing.”

You two say goodbye and you relay the message to Van over text, before responding to the message he’d just sent. Sam Fender’s album was out tomorrow, and there would be a huge bash at his Hollywood house the following weekend, which the band wouldn’t be in the States to attend. Van was clearly bummed about the whole thing, and you were too. You wonder if Sam and his friends remembered you from the party, or if you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You wish there was a way for you to reach out to him and congratulate him. 

Get your cheque yet? Van asks when the conversation about Sam has run its course.

Right. The insurance check. Yup, you respond, frowning to yourself in dismay. A whole $5,000. Yippee. 

You couldn’t believe that’s all you’d received from the insurance debacle. You’d purchased the car for $12,000 from a dealer, worked your ass to pay it off over the years, and now the insurance company had awarded you less than half of the cost of the car to somehow give you the means to buy a new one. And it’d be almost impossible to find something in good shape for that price that was also an automatic, because you grew up in Michigan, where people were not obsessed with driving stick shifts.

Least you’ve got the rover. 

Right. The Range Rover. The one scrap of Van you could cling to during this awful time.

\\

The next time you have to pass that stupid petshop with their stupidly cute puppies in the window on your walk back to the office after lunch, you decide to send a pic to Van: Yes or no to me getting a puppy.

Which one?

Holy fuck, he responded in less than twelve hours. It’s your lucky day.

I’m thinking that little fuzzy gray one.

I’d be supremely jealous. He’s cute and I love dogs.

Van is a terrible influence. You’re ashamed to admit you stall in front of the window for longer than necessary, looking at the little gray puppy with the pointed ears bounce around in the playpen before forcing yourself to move along. A puppy would probably be good for you, honestly, but that’s not a decision you should make on impulse.

Miss you, says another text from Van. Then another: Might be in town on Tuesday? Fingers crossed the flights work out. 

Unfortunately, they do not.

\\

The flights do, however, work out for Thursday. That’s a fact you only discover after coming home from work and heading into your bedroom to change, only to trip over two rolling suitcases and realize there’s a Van-sized lump sleeping in your bed.

“What’re you doing?” Van mumbles, peeking his head out from under the blankets as you swear up a storm.

“What are you doing?” You shout, your toes throbbing. You’d accidentally kicked one of his rolling suitcases across the bedroom hardwood, and your toes were aching from the impact. On its way across the bedroom that suitcase had bumped the other, causing it to fall like a domino. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

A slow grin spreads over Van’s face. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“By making my room an obstacle course?” You huff, lifting the fallen suitcase upright and rolling both of them out of the way into a corner. 

Van’s sleepy state inhibits him from arguing, and he tucks his head back under the comforter.

“God, you scared the shit out of me,” You continue, your adrenaline still pumping from the fright and the pain. “I regret making you a key. I want it back.”

“Shut up,” Comes Van’s muffled voice.

“You shut up,” You bite back, but as the throbbing in your toes die down your irritation is replaced with the realization that this is reality, that Van is actually in your fucking bed at this moment. “I missed you,” You announce suddenly, your voice a lot softer.

Van peeks his head out again. His hair is a ruffled, oily mess as he beams at you. “I missed you more.”

“Bet you didn’t. Bet you forgot about me while you were doing cool band stuff.”

“Oh, did I? Wonder who I was texting Sam about, then.”

At this your jaw drops. “You did what?”

“I told him I was sorry I was leaving town tomorrow, and you said congratulations. And he asked how you were. Bond and him wanna do a celebratory pub night down in Newcastle.”

“No fair!” You pout, stomping your foot like a child. “You’re gonna celebrate without me?”

“Get your passport!” Van cries, throwing one of his arms up in exasperation before flopping back down on the bed. “Come with us!”

Getting your passport is a pain you’re reluctant to go through. You sigh. Maybe you’d try during the holidays back in Michigan, where the lines at the post office weren’t practically out the door everyday. Even if things with Van are over by then, Mary’s been trying to talk you into an overseas vacation for a while. 

“You’re leaving tomorrow?” You decide to narrow in on that fact, pushing passport thoughts aside.

“Tomorrow night,” Van confirms. “Drop me off after work?”

“Of course.” If you only had him for these twenty-four hours, you were gonna milk every second you had.

\\

Van is completely wiped from touring, and spends his entire time at your place in the same sweats. He gets out of bed the next morning to shower and have a cup of coffee with you, but other than that he’s glued to the mattress, getting some much-needed rest. 

But even when he’s tired, Van is fun to be around. When you’re exhausted from work it means that your job has sapped every last bit of joy from you, leaving you without any desire to be creative, go out with friends, or try to be in a good mood. With Van, it’s like he would keep going if his body allowed him. He talks about tour fondly, still expresses excitement about starting on the new album, and still manages to pluck at your guitar from his nesting spot in bed. He’s the same Van; the only difference is the constant yawning and the way the lines around his eyes are more defined. Oh, and the lack of energy for any fooling around.

That last part doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re on your way home from the airport. You were so content just to have him around that you totally forgot how much you’d been using your vibrator lately. 

But even with how content you were for that blissful twenty-four hours, as soon as you’ve stepped in the door to your empty house the aching in your heart returns. In your time apart all the little details about Van had gone fuzzy in your mind; his scent on your pillow, how it takes a cup of coffee in the morning for his voice to stop cracking. But remembering them makes everything sting with a vengeance, and you’re left feeling shittier than you have all month. 

There’s been a nagging feeling creeping around the edges of your brain like a fog, and as much as you’ve been trying to deny it, it’s hard tonight. It’s just that everything with Van has started to hurt, and you’re not sure it’s ever going to go away. His schedule over the summer was flexible, but even after this intense bout of touring he’d be busy with recording. And then the band would be vigorously promoting and touring that album, and so on, forever, because Van would never stop making music, you were sure of that. 

The tears well up in your eyes even thinking about not having him around. Despite your crushing adoration for him, he really is your best friend, and the idea of losing his friendship makes your heart clench in agony, the tears spilling over. But it’s not really a fair friendship when only one of you is crying about it, is it? Van doesn’t have to hurt like this, because his heart isn’t invested in you like yours is in him. 

You allow yourself an indulgent self-pity cry as you make your bed, rumpled from Van’s napping, and climb in. You figure if you’re going to have a pity party for yourself you might as well do it right, and switch your pillow out for his so you can smell the smoke he leaves everywhere he goes. You know that as happy as you are when he’s around, there’s no way you can keep crying over someone when leaving is as much of their job as sending emails is to yours. 

\\

That’s why when Van pops in for another impromptu visit the following Tuesday, you���re not as happy to see him as you usually would be. It’s the same way that the idea of next morning’s hangover can ruin a night out, except with Van there’s no magical way to handicap your brain from thinking about the future.

The sex comes close, though. As soon as you two get to your place after picking him up he tosses his backpack aside before cornering you against the front door. 

“I fucking missed you,” He practically growls in your ear, and holy fuck it’s been so long. You two rush for the bedroom, peeling off clothes as you go. Van is too impatient to worry about unbuttoning his shirt and simply peels it over his head, while you unclasp your own bra to avoid the delay. Before you know it you’re on your back, the blankets falling away from Van’s shoulders as he thrusts into you with all he’s got, your headboard banging against the wall so loudly you almost worry about damaging it. When you come it’s intensely satisfying, and you pull Van’s hair ridiculously hard to prove it. In retaliation he bites down on your shoulder as he comes, the same as he did the first time you ever slept with him. 

The whole world feels right for that magical half hour, and then as you both lay on your backs trying to process what’s happened it all starts to shift again.

“When are you leaving, again?” You ask the ceiling, your voice stiff.

“Thursday morning,” He croaks. “Gotta get to Salt Lake City.” 

You start to roll yourself up, heading for the bathroom. “Right.”

You feel Van’s body tense under the sheets next to you. “You alright?”

“Yup,” You tell him, emerging from the bed. You’re not convincing in the slightest, and Van can clearly tell. You don’t give him time to question you before leaving the bedroom.

“What’d I do?” You startle when you hear Van’s footsteps following behind you to the bathroom. 

“Nothing.” You almost laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

Van hasn’t even bothered to throw boxers on, leaning in the bathroom doorway with his softening dick on display. He sighs. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You’re actually craving the fuck out of a cigarette, but you’d rather just go to bed and have this night be over with. Maybe tomorrow you’d be more able to enjoy Van’s presence, rather than pouting over how it’s rapidly coming to an end as soon as it began. “I’m fine,” You tell him. Your voice sounds less sharp and more resigned. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

Van shakes his head. He uses the toilet when you’re done, tosses on the sweatpants he had rolled in his backpack, and heads out onto the porch alone.

In his absence you scold yourself for acting like this. What the fuck were you doing? Ruining the two nights you had him, because of something that wasn’t anybody’s fault? You remake the bed, mentally giving yourself a stern talking to.

“You wanna talk about what’s wrong now?” Van’s voice makes you jump out of your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You insist again, but your voice betrays you. 

“Something is,” Van argues. “I’ve been watching you fluff that pillow for ages.”

At his words you realize your hands are still gripping the corner of your pillowcase, and you unclench your fists. 

Van steps into the room, and to your mortification you feel your eyes heat up with warm tears. 

“It’s been a long day,” You lie. It’s been a long fucking summer. “And I’m PMSing.”

Van frowns in sympathy, starting to climb back into bed. “Need a cuddle?”

A cuddle sounds like the equivalent of doing an entire round of shots by yourself when you’re already dreading the hangover. 

“Yeah,” You sniff. “I do.”

\\

On Thursday morning Van gets you up even earlier than your alarm clock, one of his hands nudging your thighs apart. You expect him to get on top of you once you’re more fully awake, yawning and wiggling around to get more comfortable, but instead you feel his calloused fingertip press against your entrance.

“Oh,” You sigh in surprise as he slips into you, searching out your good spots by touch alone. When he slips a second finger in, angling himself right, you clench down on instinct. “Yeah,” You breathe, blinking up at him sleepily. He’s watching your face intently, and if you were even slightly more awake you’d be horrifically self conscious. “You got it right.”

You can’t remember the last time you were fingered as the entree of the sex, rather than the appetizer. It’s appallingly intimate to have Van’s face so close to yours, breathing in any noises you make and watching every slight expression change in the darkness of your room. You’re also appalled at how you’ve been completely robbed of his talents; he can sense exactly where you’re throbbing for him, your clit twitching against the pad of his thumb when he applies pressure right where your body has been screaming for it. It barely takes any time with his thumb working in tiny circles and his fingers pressing into you hard before you’re gasping for air, drowning under the waves of your orgasm that feels like it’s radiating from both areas, whimpering Van’s name helplessly. 

As soon as you’re flinching from his touch he pulls his hand away, his fingers slipping into his mouth so he can clean them off. 

“Holy shit.” Your lungs are still desperate for air, but you haul him in for a sloppy kiss, paying no attention to the taste of yourself on his tongue. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Van lets out a deep, throaty laugh at that, but you’re already pushing him backwards so that he’s laying flat. You’re way too sensitive for sex, but you jerk him off and let him come on the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, as a treat. 

After you drop him off at the airport, both of you looking slightly disheveled due to having to rush to get ready, you sigh to yourself in the empty car. You hated how weak you were when it came to him. One minute you’re convincing yourself you need to stop hanging around him, and the next you’re telling yourself there is absolutely no way you can give up the best sex you’ve ever had.

It was quite the conundrum.

\\

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen fanfiction #van mccann #catb #catb fic #vanfic #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #Catfish and the Bottlemen

[ruthoakenshield]

Very Good Friends (Chapter 7)

Catch up here: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

Reader x Henry Cavill, Reader x co-star named Dan

Warning: This tale is for 18+ readers ONLY!!! Mentions of flashbacks: (rape, anal sex, non-con sex, abuse), severe bruising and injury, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, humiliation, and some fluff to make us feel better. Smut comes later on in the story… Several chapters down the road… I promise!!!

If ANY of the warnings upset you or make you uncomfortable, DO NOT read below the cut! go find something else to read in this case.

If you are okay with reading those things then enjoy the tale below the cut.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own Henry nor do I have any personal knowledge of him besides what is common knowledge amongst the Cavillary. Any mistakes and typos are mine, story is not beta-tested. GIF I got from the tumbler search thingy.

When the two of you get back, you quietly shrug off your jacket and shoes and hand the jacket to Henry to hang up. He turns and looks down at you. You’re staring at the floor, shoulders sagging and looking as broken as he is sure you’re feeling. He reaches out gently and caresses your arm. “What do you want or need right now, Kitten. How can I help comfort you?” he asks.

You look up at him with glassy, sad and bewildered hazel eyes. He always loved your eyes. They always held so much expression, and they were unique, like his. Yours seemed to hold every color. The outer edges of your irises were a dark blue fading to gray, the middle of your irises were a mix of green, amber and blue with little flecks of brown and the inner edge around your pupil was a dark brown. Your eyes would change color, he noticed, depending on your moods and what you wore or the background behind you. Sometimes your eyes looked blue as the oceans near his childhood home, sometimes they were a stormy grey, other times green as the fields back home in the springtime. Right now, though, they held only sadness and pain and bewilderment. They looked pale blue and damn near broke his heart.

Henry reached out and caressed your face. “I know you’re hurting, and feeling overwhelmed, Kitten. How can I help you feel better?” he asks again.

You sigh and shrug and look back down at the floor. “I don’t know.” You quietly murmur.

Henry squats down and looks up into your face. His large, warm hand reaches up and just holds your face on one side. You close your eyes and tilt your head into his hand. A few tears trickle out of your eyes. His distinct smell of rosemary from his water he was drinking in the car along with the cedarwood soap he uses, and his distinctive musky man smell floods your senses as he squats down in front of you. His face close to yours now, and you just want to crawl into his arms and stay there forever.

“Sweetheart, I wish I could take this pain and heartache from you. You don’t deserve any of it.” he tells you. “You are very brave for agreeing to press charges and for standing up and telling Dan he’s hurt enough people. I’m proud of you, Sweetheart. I’m proud of you for cooperating with me and going to see the counselor and talking with her a bit. I know your throat is still sore and it hurts to talk.” He tells you. “We both know Dan’s ruined his career doing what he did to you. Don’t worry about things, okay? We’ll take this one day at a time. His scenes are done, you don’t have to deal with him any longer until the court case. So now it’s just you and me and the rest of the cast filming the last bit of scenes for the next four months.” He reminds you gently.

“No one is happy about what he did to you, and no one will blame you for what happened, Kitten. No one will be upset if you struggle for a bit trying to get back into the mindset of your character and the swing of things with filming again. You’ve been through something traumatic, Sweetie, but we’re all here for you and will support you the best we can, okay? You just gotta tell us what you need and when you need it.

If you need a hug, just ask. If you need time to collect your thoughts, then tell someone and take it. If you need to scream and hit something, tell someone and we’ll take you to the workout area and you can punch the bag or we can hold the punching and kicking pads and you can rail on them all you like. But Honey, we can’t help if we don’t know what it is you need.” He tells you. “Don’t shut us out, okay? We want to help you. We want to see you overcome this obstacle and get better.”

You nod. “Okay, Bear,” You say. “can I have something hot to drink? And can we just have supper and sit, and you hold me while I have my ice cream and strawberries?” you inquire. Henry grins, “Of course, Kitten. Go get comfortable and I’ll get you something hot to drink and get your supper and then your treat.” He confirms. You reach out and hug him. “Thank you, my big Bear.” You whisper.” He smiles affectionately and rubs your back and cups the back of your head with his hand. “I’m here for you Kitten. Sorry I couldn’t keep this from happening to you, but I’m here for you now.” he whispers back.

You nod and let go of his neck. You gaze at his face that is almost even with yours now. His blue eyes are bright, and glassy, and the little fleck of brown is hidden under his lid as he looks up at you. You see the love and concern in his eyes, and you reach out and caress his stubbly cheek. You watch his eyes flutter closed when your fingers touch his cheek, and he swallows hard. You run your fingers along the chiseled jaw of your handsome friend, grateful for him being in your life right now. He takes your hand in his, kisses it gently and stands. He gives you a gentle nudge towards the sofa and turns to go in the kitchen to get your warm drink and then supper and your treat.

You go and sit gingerly on the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest and wincing as the bruises and your uterus, vagina and ass all protest the movement. You sigh and think about all the stuff the counselor said. Looking around, you notice some of Henry’s stuff is moved on the various shelves and your stuff has been added to the shelves in the living room. You wonder when he did it, but just shrug.

Henry comes over with your honey lemon tea, then goes back and cooks you another amazing soft meal for supper. Then you have your ice cream and strawberries again, and the two of you spend another evening just cuddling and talking. There’s four months of filming left then another month or so of press junkets and promotions for the film, then you both are done. You agree that the time can’t pass fast enough. You both are looking forward to October and time off.

He watches you as you eat and drink. Your eyes are closed, and you have a contented look on your face as you enjoy your indulgence. He wonders how Dan’s actions are going to affect the reception of the movie if this gets out. His brows furrow at the thought. He wonders how it will affect your career. This is your first movie and he had high hopes it would get you the good kind of recognition to jumpstart your career. You truly are a wonderful actress, and he hopes this doesn’t affect it. He is concerned that if word gets out of what happened you’ll be labeled as the one who ended his career with a rape and assault accusation. He sighs feeling incredibly concerned for you and your future.

You lean against his side as you eat your ice cream and start to feel cold. When you finish your treat, you set the bowl on the coffee table and whimper as your crotch protests the movements.

Henry rubs your back, and you curl up against him. “Bear, just hold me please. I’m cold and you’re a fucking furnace. I need to borrow your heat for a while.” You ask quietly and wrap your arms around his massive chest. He gives you a sad smile and does what you ask, resting his cheek on you head, one of his massive hands cradle the back of your head and the other is placed on your low back.

You hear his heart racing and feel him give you a tight squeeze. Closing your eyes, you let his warmth seep into you. His distinctive scent calming you and his powerful arms making you feel encased in a protective shell. His warm breath you feel on your head as the two of you just sit there and cuddle.

Henry holds you close as you lean into him and he feels his own heart racing. God, he loves you! He wishes he could act on it, but knows it would spell disaster right now with the way things have gone. It infuriates him that Dan knew about your condition and said nothing all during the party knowing he was looking for you. Henry wonders if you were even conscious during the party and wondered how long you had been laying there alone on your bed bleeding. He wonders what he would’ve done if he would’ve left the party and found you in the trailer unconscious and that injured. He held you tighter, not wanting to go that way with his thoughts any longer.

He rests his cheek against your hair and closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of your mint shampoo. It always calmed him smelling it and helped him focus after having to deal with Dan.

You talk about your hopes and dreams with Henry and he shares his. You both realize you have similar desires which makes the two of you smile. Henry picks you up and takes you to his bedroom. “How about we cuddle in bed, so we can fall asleep someplace more comfy?” he suggests. You nod, but are a little nervous. Henry understands your hesitation. “You okay, Kitten?” he asks as the two of you sit on the foot end of the bed.

You shrug. “I just don’t want to… to…” you aren't sure how to tell him what you’re feeling and the fear of losing your friendship with him if things turn intimate. You need his support right now and are afraid of what sharing a bed might do. Henry patiently waits for you to figure out how to put into words what you’re feeling. He sees a myriad of emotions play across your face and he is pretty sure he knows what you’re thinking.

“Kitten, would it make you feel better if we not share my bed?” he asks. “I understand you’re nervous and don’t want things between us to get fucked up, especially now. I get it, Kitten. I won’t push you. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the couch.” he says. Your eyes fly up to his. “Oh! No! If anyone should sleep on the couch it should be me, Hen! This is your trailer! I’m fine taking the couch.” you insist.

He tilts his head, uncertainty evident on his face. “You sure, Kitten?” he says, caressing your cheek. You know I won’t do anything to ruin this.” he says. “I know, Bear.” you tell him. “I just need to figure things out. There’s so much swirling in my head and I don’t have any idea how to describe what I’m feeling.” you try to explain. Henry nods.

He picks up two of his pillows and hands them to you, then pulls off the comforter for his bed and digs in a cabinet and pulls out a set of sheets. He nudges you to go back into the living room and he puts the sheets and pillows on the couch, then picks you up, kisses your nose and gently sets you on the make shift bed and covers you with the comforter. “Get some sleep and rest, Kitten. You know where to find me if you need me. You’re always welcome to come cuddle in my bed.” he tells you and caresses your head.

You nod, “Thanks Henry.” you say, and he nods and heads back into his room. He leaves the door ajar so he can hear if you’re having another nightmare.

The middle of the night Henry wakes to find you snuggled against his side. You’re wrapped like a burrito in his comforter and are using him for a pillow. He smiles, caresses your head, and wraps an arm around you then drifts off to sleep again.

More chapters to come...

Please reblog and share if you like this story so far! Please and thank you!!!

Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from this taglist:

Tagging the cavillary & crew: @dancingwendigo @littlefreya @iloveyouyen @achaoticaugust @thatdem0n @cherry-acid @connieisland @kandomeresbitch @captainbigdy @mary-ann84 @chamomilebottom  @thelastsock @infinite-shite  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @viking-raider  @raspberrydreamclouds @when-in-doubt-eat-pizza  @kissthatlifeaway @madbaddic7ed  @beckster07890 @sage-willow-raven @allememaggies @aletheladyinred @princess-of-riviaa @amandalove @heyyassbutt @nerdypinupcrystal @wondersofdreaming @taylorinthetardis @kmuir1 @henrythickcavill @cavillsbestgal @hinata7346 @indigosaurus @purplelove75 @eldarwen333 @rangergirl71 @luclittlepond  @rowandor @contentobsessor @henrycavilledits​@capsheadquaters @criminaly-supernatural @henricavyll @henrycavell

#very good friends #henry cavill #henry x reader #PROTECTIVE HENRY #communication #comfortfood #hot tea #ice cream #strawberries #talking #cuddling #fluff #hold me #blanket burrito #hurting #emotional #insecurity #afraid #unsure #concerned #worries #what if #exhausted #tired #best friends #hugs

[minnochu]

Don’t Make Me Say It.

Officer!Yoongi x Reader Spin Off 

(A/n) I have finally finished my Officer!Yoongi spin off that I promised because I fell in love with his role in Interference and just want to give him some love. Hi. I spent a long time thinking up this one, and it’s kind of a mess and weird to be honest, probably rushed ‘cause I wasn’t about to pour my guts out for a whole chapter fic (sorry), but I do hope you enjoy it! 

 This mildly references Interference, but it can be read as a standalone if you don’t want to read it lol. Link to Interference if you dare!!

*Warnings: Death, mention of suicide and postpartum depression, mention of organ trafficking, mention of drugs, non consensual touching and kidnapping, explicit language, reader’s boss smacks her, a customer also smacks reader’s ass too.

Word Count: 17.6k

.

“Don’t you think you need to settle down with a woman of your own, hyung?” 

It’s a question Taehyung and now Jimin asks him. He always blows it off as something he doesn’t necessarily need when he’s married to his job and sleep. As he finds himself doting on Jimin’s new found relationship with a past and now solved case, the latter thought maybe it was time to keep the elder from constantly nagging them like a grandmother. Not like his girlfriend had any complaints to his and Hoseok’s unannounced visits.

“Like I said!” He drawls groggily, his voice heavy with sleep after he was promptly woken up, “Something like that isn’t for me.” 

“That’s what I said too hyung,” Jimin sighed exasperatedly while pinching the bridge of his nose, “But you were the one who pushed us together, and plus… you could use a little happiness in your life.”

The blonde scoffs at this, kicking his shoes up onto his desk nonchalantly, promptly ignoring Seokjin’s protests at the action. Closing his eyes, he crosses his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, “I’m already happy enough seeing all your stupid faces everyday and sleeping when I’m not burning my eyes at the sight of homicide cases.”

“Wow I’m flattered,” Seokjin grits as he shoves the younger’s feet off the desk, “Sheesh, maybe a girl will teach you some manners.”

“I treat Jiminie’s girl just fine, don’t I?”

“Still, we don’t want our precious Min Yoongi dying a bachelor who only knows how to sleep and solve cases,” Hoseok teases as he slings an arm around his partner, “How ‘bout I set you up on blind dates like we did with Jiminie?”

The latter shivers at the thought of his past blind dates that ended up with his meeting with Jungmi. It was a relief to finally be rid of her and her conniving father and Jungkook too. The rest of the men seem to share the same thoughts as the second youngest.

“Considering your taste in women?” Yoongi clicks his tongue as he gives his partner a judging glare, only to tilt his head to the side when Hoseok launches a half hearted punch at his face with a pout.

“That hurts hyung!” 

After much pestering however, Yoongi ended up agreeing to a month of blind dates if the guys would finally stop bugging him about a girlfriend that he honestly didn’t have any need for. He didn’t even know why it was so important for him to have one. 

It’s a drag, are his only thoughts as he meets up at cliche date spots like the park, a cafe, or a restaurant. And the dates themselves? He wouldn’t call them back. He didn’t even bother trying to learn their names. Perhaps this was payback for setting up Jimin on those blind dates, ultimately resulting in him meeting Jungmi.

“Ah, Yoongi-ssi, do you mind walking me home? It’s quite dark…” one bold woman asks after the eleventh blind date so far. He wondered how many women his coworkers knew, but he decided he wasn’t going to see her ever again anyways so he might as well be civil for once. 

The woman tries to start small talk but he promptly ignores her when he hears noises coming from the alleyway that they happen to pass by. It’s almost pitch black, but he can make out tall figures surrounding a fallen and petite form on the ground. He almost tries to ignore it, but the officer side of him turns sharply into the alley without any explanation to his very confused date whose legs are shaking wildly in fear when he’s engulfed in the darkness the further he ventures onward.

“Call the police!” Is all he answers back with.

And from there on, he spots you among the crowd of men standing above your fallen body. He scrutinizes your messy hair and odd fashion that reveals your midriff, chest, and shoulders where your scarlet flannel is only held together by one button with the sleeves slid below your shoulders. The fashion of kids these days, he thought flippantly.

“Hey, it doesn’t seem very fair to gang up on a little girl,” he grunts as the thugs turn and glare at him venomously. Sizing them up silently, he wondered if he should take the girl and make a run for it or get his hands dirty.

“Who the hell is this asshole?” One scoffs, but the others are way ahead and already lunging at the detective. 

Yoongi effortlessly dodges and deflects the attacks, watching in the corner of his eye if you were in danger. But he’s surprised to find you holding your own ground against two of them. He momentarily forgets the men in front of him when he narrowly dodges the thrust of a knife. Narrowing his eyes, he redirects another thrust before twisting the man’s arm behind his back. Taking the knife, he pushes the thug harshly into the other guys. 

By the time the cops have arrived, Yoongi has incapacitated them to keep them from trying to get away when he didn’t have any cuffs on him. 

“I didn’t need your help,” you pout, looking up at him with a glare. Crossing your arms over your chest, he has to keep himself from pointing out your very visible and very black sports bra. 

“I couldn’t leave a child to fend for herself,” he shrugged, looking you up and down with a judging look.

Puffing out your cheeks, your eyes narrow at him, “I’m not a child!”

“Sure you aren’t,” he shrugged, catching your punch in his hand and pulling you forward and to the side to make you stumble over your feet. He quirked an amused upturn of his lips at your obvious annoyance, “Get home safely, kid.”

“I’m 20 dammit!” You pout then and even now as you storm into your apartment with your eyebrows furrowed, bruised fists clenching around plastic bags of ingredients for the next few meals or so. 

The place is rather cheap, the paint chipping off here and there with dark water stains discoloring the ceiling. The carpet is stained and flattened with age along with the drab furniture that completes the shabby appearance of the home.

“Unnie?” the familiar voice of your little sister, Hyemi, calls from the hallway. Her head peers around the corner before her whole body jumps out and she’s bounding towards you for a hug. “Welcome home!” she greets happily, going on about her good day at school and how much she missed you. 

“Yeah?” You smile softly, your sour mood simmering at the sight of your cute little sister who had just begun her first year of middle school, “Tell me all about it when I finish up dinner okay?”

“Dad’s not home again for dinner?” she asks as you pull your messy hair into a ponytail and move your conversation to the kitchen.

Shaking your head, you grimace as you begin preparing the items for dinner, “I don’t think so… I’m sorry..”

Sorry. You didn’t even know what you were apologizing for. For the absence of your father? For the living conditions you both had to endure because of him? It’s not that he was a terrible father… You could only blame it on the sudden bankruptcy his business fell into, which put your family in great debt. 

Your mother? She left. Father? He promised you both he would work to create a better living for you. Which meant going the whole day without seeing his once happy face around the house. And now? The little times you caught him sluggishly returning home in the middle of the night, his face was tired. It didn’t look as youthful as it did when you were still in high school. 

Must be why you changed. You mulled over how perfect your grades were in high school until debt and your parents’ divorce threw you in the deep end and persuaded you into delinquency. Instead of going to college like your past self wanted to, you went straight to working any kind of job that would hire you. Currently, you worked at a restaurant during the day, and a bar as a waitress during the night. 

The money always went to groceries, your father, and a little something for Hyemi you always saved on the side.

Despite all that’s happened, you still love your father dearly. Right now, all you wanted was for Hyemi to be safe and well fed. If something happened to her, you would surely go on a rampage.

After your sister has finally gone to bed, you’re left alone to your thoughts as you clean up the dishes and refrigerate the leftovers. You think about hours prior when that man interferes with your run-in with thugs outside the bar you worked at. Icy blonde hair, pale skin, and brooding dark eyes. Shivering, you placed a hand over your chest to ponder over the thumping in your chest.

Everything diminishes once you hear the door open and close, the rusty hinges whining as your father grunts, followed by a prompt thud of his weight hitting the couch.

“Welcome back,” you greet from the kitchen doorway, smiling as he casts you a weary smile back. 

“Sorry I’m late… again,” he chuckles forlornly, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head against the cushions. “I’m really trying my best… we’re so close to being free, but it’s like there’s not a lot of time left.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean your head against the wall as you observe the fatigue in his body… his eyes. 

“I know… we know.”

“Send my regards to Hyemi, it’s been really busy at the company, I’m sure she must really despise me for leaving you two by yourselves all the time.” He laughs, but it’s hollow. There’s no emotion, and you know that he’s so worn down from all the stress of paying back the people who’ve helped his company stay alive after its sudden fall.

“Or… you know… you could say hi before you leave again… or even leave a note,” you suggest nonchalantly as you move to take a seat beside him, “I’m sure she would rather hear it from you than through me... She only misses you, you know.”

He stays silent at that, and you know that in the end you’ll have to tell Hyemi once again that he loves her and whatnot. It just wasn’t special that way. Not at that young age. 

“I love you both, with all of my heart and soul,” he blurts out, turning to look at you with a crestfallen expression. Why? Why did he look like that?

You open your mouth to ask him why the confession all of a sudden when he pulls out two tickets from his coat pocket and practically shoves them in your face.

“One of my employees gave these to me,” he explains as you eye them quizzically, “A coupon to a really nice restaurant in town… You and Hyemi should go out and have some fun for the day, eat out and maybe watch a movie!”

“Sure… thanks.”

If only you had the confidence to tell him how much you wanted him to join you both. A family night out. Something you all haven’t been able to do since the company crumbled and your mother left. 

.

After that chance encounter, Yoongi couldn’t focus. He wonders if that girl is alright. He wonders if that’s a normal thing for you. Which makes him all the more worried that thugs are targeting you. 

“So… how are you liking the blind dates?” Hoseok asks as the former drives to the site they were supposed to search through, Jimin and Taehyung to arrive later on after their meeting. 

“Disgusting,” Yoongi drones blandly as they arrive at a worn down apartment complex. The place is shady, and a sore thumb in a place like Seoul. “Couldn’t you guys find interesting women?”

“Don’t be like that! Please tell me you at least texted back one of them!” Hoseok grins with a nudge to his partner’s side, but the male isn’t amused by him and shakes his head as he heads up the stairs to the second floor. He observes the dirty stucco and the peeling paint on the hand rails, frowning at the kind of place Namjoon sent them to.

“If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?” He asked as they arrive at the apartment, caution tape barricading the door along with two officers that nod their head in greeting.

Hoseok shrugged, obviously knowing that he wouldn’t, “Only if you’re telling the truth.”

The elder can only sigh as they enter to find other police officers already inside and taking notes. One of them perks up at the two’s entrance and hurry over. Over the former’s shoulder, Yoongi can make out a complete disaster of the room. The apartment was already worn down as it was, but everything was in a disarray from the couch being flipped over to the television smashed to pieces on the cruddy brown carpet to the blood staining the said flooring.

The liquid was not yet crusty brown upon further inspection after the officer filled in him and Hoseok about the neighbors reportedly hearing the firing of a gunshot. 

Hoseok searched the rooms, which must’ve been just as trashed, while Yoongi stayed in the living room to inspect the male victim. He had to be in his forties, no older than fifty, dressed in work clothes that were drenched in the pool of blood coming from the obvious gunshot to his head. Unable to touch the corpse just yet, he suspected the blow from a close distance, wondering if they did so in order to extract the bullet to keep from any evidence being left. 

Notably, dried tracks ran down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes. Crying? Was he threatened? He wondered why he found the last expression of this man turning out to seem more and more melancholy and simply tired.

Were they looking for something, he wondered? Burglars? Why did they go so far as to delivering a clean shot to the cranium? 

The messy hair reminded him of you. It just so happened to be the same hair color, and he wondered why he was suddenly thinking of you. An insignificant little girl he just so happened to help out despite your stubborn claims that you were just fine on your own.

“Miss, we cannot let you in!”

“This is my home! You can’t possibly be telling me I can’t go in!” A voice raises with ferocity, reminding Yoongi of a certain someone. 

“St-still… w-wait!”

He turns right at that moment to see you with fire in your eyes as you evade the grasps of the officers to head straight towards the sofa where you ignore Yoongi to set your eyes right then and there on the corpse.

The plastic bag of leftovers and a meal you and Hyemi picked out to bring home for your father is left abandoned on the ground when you set your eyes on your fallen father.

“D-dad?”

Well fuck. Of course it had to be your dad, making it all the more complicated for Yoongi. What a drag, he thought as he stood from his crouching position to halt your approach.

“What do you think you’re doing,” you grit, fists clenching as you stare helplessly at your father, “Get out of my way.”

“I can’t let you, you’ll only contaminate the evidence, and that includes your father’s body over here,” he explains calmly, biting his lip when he notices the traces of tears that gloss over your eyes at the severity of the situation. He sends a look to the officers to let him handle it, their shoulders relaxing after you pretty much shoved the guards out front to the side. 

Tears blur your vision as you ball your fists and recklessly launch a punch at his face in fury, but he catches it easily just like the night you both met. Your eyes travel between Yoongi’s apathetic eyes to the tear-dried face of your parent. Why were his eyes so cold? Why did he look as though he were belittling you for acting the way you did? 

Your knees shake and buckle, your weight folding underneath you as you crumple to the ground, wrist still held high from his hold. You refused to cry in front of him and all these officers. How could you face Hyemi? How could you have left your father alone at home? 

“I love you both with all my heart and soul.”

It clicked now. You figured he knew his time was up at that time. He intentionally drove you and your sister away for the day. But who would be behind this? Who wanted him dead?

You felt dizzy thinking more about it, stomach churning even more the longer you stared at his lifeless body. 

“H-hey!” Yoongi blinked in surprise when you fell face forward, his hands catching you by the shoulders. 

“You know her, Yoongi?” Hoseok asks as the blonde hooks his arms under your legs and back. 

Fixing your head against his shoulder, he gives a brief shrug, “More or less.” Bowing his head at the officers, he promised to return to aid in investigation later on once he deals with you. Outside the apartment is your little sister, who gasps at her older sister’s unconsciousness. 

“I-Is she okay?” She asks worriedly, her eyebrows furrowing, “What’s happening to our apartment? Is my dad in there?”

Hoseok seemed to catch on as he bows his head towards her, “Let’s move to our car, we can explain when we get your sister settled down.”

Yoongi allows his partner to be the one to deliver the news as you slowly regain consciousness laying down in the back seat of their car. He watches as you slowly sit up and glare at him leaning against the trunk of the vehicle. 

“Morning kid,” he says, causing you to frown even more at his nickname for you. 

“I told you I’m 20. I have a name too you know! It’s (Y/n)!”

He snorts at that, “20 with the behavior of a child.”

You turn away with a pout, letting him win this bout. The older man takes this chance to fully look you up and down, noticing the nice cropped blouse you were wearing along with high waisted jeans in contrast to your scandalous casual attire the other night. You both couldn’t have known, he thinks as Hoseok tries to comfort the younger sister. 

“So what now,” you grunt, leaning your head against the seats, “My apartment’s overrun by officers, there’s no way we’re getting in and having a good night’s rest just like that.” It didn’t appear like it hit you yet, but he can only assume that you were putting a facade, in contrast to the sniffles coming from your sister.

Suddenly, Yoongi felt something familiar with this kind of situation. His eyes jumped from you to Hoseok to your sister. This was all too familiar. He wondered why when he spotted Jimin and Taehyung making their way towards them. 

Fuck. This is just like Jimin’s old situation with his now girlfriend. 

“Any relatives, or friends you could stay with?” He asked, trying to avoid offering his place. His heart sped up at the thought and he cursed it for that. 

You shrugged, frowning as your sister sobbed and cried her eyes out, “Hyemi probably has some friends who would offer her a place, but me… not really… as pathetic as that sounds. I don’t even have enough money to stay too long at an inn.”

“Why not at Yoongi’s place then?” Jimin mentions, nudging the elder knowingly, “He and Hoseok would gladly offer you a place until your apartment is thoroughly inspected and cleaned up!” 

Yoongi glares at him for bringing up the idea, and the younger is aware of it as he ignores it to snicker at his distasteful frown with Taehyung who catches on. 

“With this old fart?” You snort, “I’ll just sleep on the streets then.”

“That wouldn’t be too advisable,” Hoseok cuts in, guiding a shaky Hyemi into your open arms to comfort her, “It’s only an assumption that this was an intentional killing. The files read that your father is well known businessman whose company went downhill until another organization stepped in to help pay, someone might be behind this... who knows if you two will be targeted as well.”

Yoongi gives a stern look towards the younger, who turns a blind eye.

“Yeah! It’ll be much safer with these two!” Taehyung grins, winking at the smirking Jimin. 

When it’s finally decided that you two would stay at their apartment, Yoongi vowed to get back at them later on. They exchanged teasing smirks, only for Yoongi to harshly pinch the closest one - Taehyung, who jumped and pouted at him. 

“You’ll all pay later,” He promised menacingly, eyes darting back to you and your sister waiting patiently in the car.

Hoseok grinned, “Not unless you’re thanking us for setting you up with the pretty older sister that you seem to already know!~”

“Now doesn’t seem like the best time, does it?” He harshly shoots back, remembering the despair written all over your expression back in the apartment.

The younger shrugs, keeping a lighthearted smile before turning to the other two more serious now, “We’ll take the two back then, we’ll be back soon.”

On the drive home, Yoongi wants boiling lava to burn him alive right then and there. They left a small crack in the divider glass, but all that can be heard are Hyemi’s faint sniffling. Even more than that, he can feel your burning gaze staring straight into the back of his skull.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” he whispers harshly to his partner as they lead you and your sister into their apartment. 

“Make yourselves at home, I’ll try to see if I can retrieve some of your clothes tomorrow if they’re not too busy clearing the scene or looking for evidence,” Yoongi dismisses when you both stand awkwardly in the middle of their living room, “We’ll be heading back now.”

“W-wait!” You call out almost automatically, catching him by his elbow. He turns to regard you with a raised brow and you seem to deflate at that, “If there’s anything you find out about my father, please tell me.”

He wonders how you go from fiery and rowdy to timid and vulnerable. As much as he hated to say it, it was quite cute ignoring the situation— what? Frowning at his inner thoughts, he merely nodded and left them to their own devices as he and Hoseok went on their way after leaving you with their phone numbers in case of an emergency.

“You thought she was cute back there didn’t you?” Hoseok grinned knowingly.

The elder shot him a glare, but not denying it either as they drove back to the crime scene. 

“You guys are dumb, I’m only letting them in because they’ll be in possible danger otherwise. Plus I can avoid blind dates now since we’re busy being bodyguards.”

“No need for blind dates when you’ve got Miss (Y/n).”

“Shut up, I already told you, now’s not a good time for her,” he frowned as they made their way back to the apartment.

“So you would’ve considered if the time was right?” Hoseok concluded more than asked.

He shrugged, obviously knowing he couldn’t deny it in front of his partner. 

“Forensics took the body to look closely and search for any fragments left from the bullet if any,” Jimin fills them in when they arrive to only find the taped outline of the victim, “The bullet went straight through, whoever did this must’ve wanted to keep any evidence from being left.”

“The place is utterly ransacked, I don’t know if that’s to create confusion, but it just looks like they were trying to find something.”

Yoongi kept quiet, crouching down near a toppled over bookshelf. The contents were spilled haphazardly across the carpet, including picture frames, books, and photo albums. He didn’t touch but he can make out pictures of you, your little sister, and your dad. One particular frame contained a peculiar photo of a woman, possibly your mother, but she looked the splitting image of Hyemi, nothing like you. He bent down and squinted when he found another piece behind it from the end that was broken. 

Sliding it out carefully, his brows furrowed at the different woman in the photo that held onto an infant while smiling brightly. That had to be you, he thought, recognizing small features that reminded him of you. As embarrassing as it seemed for him to already recognize it.

He waved it off as not looking similar to your sister.

A mistress he supposed. 

He took the previous picture as well, pocketing both to research later for facial recognition. 

“We’re just about done for the day, you two head home and we’ll report back to Namjoon,” Taehyung says as they walk back to their cars, “Don’t wanna leave your lady friend alone at home.”

Yoongi frowned at his teasing, “She’s just someone I met. Besides, she tried attacking me when we met.”

“So she’s feisty?” Hoseok smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

“Can you do me a favor then?” He asks, ignoring his partner, “Find out what you can about these two women.”

He hands Jimin the two photos before nodding a farewell. Hoseok follows after him curiously, “What was up with the two photos?”

“I found them by the bookshelf, one of the photos was hidden behind the other, there’s a different woman in the hidden one,” He explained as they drove home, in the corner of his eye he could tell Hoseok was pondering over the new information, “I was thinking it could be a mistress, the two look very similar to their respective mothers if I’m correct that the father had an affair. Or he could have remarried if something happened to (Y/n)’s mother.”

“It’s all just speculation,” He shrugged as they started towards their apartment, “Hopefully Jimin can find something.”

Turning the doorknob to their apartment, he pressed inward and felt a tsunami of savory scents crash into him as soon as they entered. He blinked as he noticed only Hyemi was sitting on the couch watching television.

“If you’re wondering, unnie is cooking dinner!” she cracks a small smile when she greets them respectfully. Although her eyes were still quite puffy and swollen from earlier. Yoongi noted how so much differently she acted opposed to your feisty firecracker actions. Was that just a way to protect yourself, he wondered.

He nodded and made his way towards the kitchen to see you standing by the stove. You look over your shoulder and he’s almost spellbound by the sight of you cooking in his kitchen. Until you ruined it by shooting him a glare and turning away with a grunt.

“Hello to you too,” He raises an eyebrow, ignoring your attitude to step behind you and look over your shoulder, “Kimchi fried rice?”

“I hope you don’t mind me going through your fridge, Hyemi got hungry so I thought I’d make dinner… as thanks for letting us stay here...” you trail off the last part but he hears it anyway, watching you mix in chicken.

“It’s nothing, it’s just part of the job I guess,” he shrugs, turning away to grab a drink from the fridge. As he does this, he doesn’t realize the pout that puckers your lips. 

Just a job, you think blandly as you finish up the meal and start plating it.

“You’re right,” You smile half heartedly as you place the platter on the dining table.

“Anyways, I have a question,” He asks, sitting down at the dining table as you take out bowls and utensils, “Where’s your mother?”

“What about her?” You turn suddenly, squinting at him suspiciously, “She left us when my dad fell into deep debt and started a family on her own, that’s all there is to it.”

Yoongi wondered which you were referring to. Hopefully Jimin could figure out the women in the pictures, it’d make it easier on him what kind of questions he’d ask. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume what happened.

“Right, sorry… just asking for any other connections to your father.”

“I guess,” you shrug as you call out for Hyemi who comes running along with Hoseok.

The latter gasps, “Wow! Haven’t had dinner this extravagant before! Besides from Jiminie’s girl of course.”

You frown at that, looking at him weirdly, which he catches with a knowing grin.

“We’re not that great at cooking, only simple dishes, other times it’s just takeout,” he explains, “Man! This must be how Taehyung and Jimin are getting by now, those two cannot cook for the life of them!”

“Jimin and Taehyung?” You repeat, thinking back to the apartment with the other two detectives, “Are they the two that were at the apartment today?”

“Yup, I guess you could say they’re like us, Yoongi and Jimin are both stone cold, while Taehyung and I are more wild I guess,” Hoseok grins back, “That being said, Yoongi is Jimin’s adoptive brother.”

Yoongi shoots Hoseok a glare, wondering why he was spilling details about him to them when they were just gonna be on their own once again after all has been solved and taken care of.

 When dinner was finished and you were washing the dishes, he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“I’ll be heading over to your apartment tomorrow again, I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you to wear.”

He waited for a response, but you merely continued your washing silently. Hoseok had offered to wash, but you said it would only be fair for you to do it as thanks. Pursing his lips, he decided to leave it at that and turned on his heel to leave.

“Take me with you,” you finally said, turning around to hold his gaze, “I have to work anyways.”

“Work?” He repeats with a raised brow.

“Yeah, remember the alley you met me? It’s near the bar I waitress at… usually I’d go work at a restaurant, but tomorrow’s my off day.”

He’d just learned about your father’s debt just now, he didn’t realize that meant you had to shoulder it as well. You probably wouldn’t want him to pity you, but he felt a sudden admiration for you taking care of your sister. It reminded him of his younger self finding Jimin that eventful day and taking him in. 

“Okay, but we’re gonna have to stop by the precinct.”

He was about to leave when it seemed everything was said and done, but he stopped himself when he turned to see Hyemi lying down on the couch. 

“Do you two want to use my bed? I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You turned at this but looked away with surprise to see him staring right at you.

“I-it’s alright, plus who would want to sleep in your bed you pervert. Who knows what you do on your bed!” 

He squints at you, raising his eyebrows at your accusation. Scoffing, he turned away, “Don’t make any assumptions about my sex life, suit yourself then.” 

“Who would??” You shriek, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks at the image that creates for your wandering mind.

“Ugh I hate him!” You mutter under your breath as you return to the couch with blankets and pillows that Hoseok had lent to you. Hyemi glances up to you wearily, lifting herself to take a pillow and a blanket from you. “How are you feeling?”

The younger smiles weakly, her eyes falling to her lap when she feels the threat of tears building at her eyes. Her teeth dig into her quivering lip as you wrap your arms around her and tuck her head against your neck. 

“I can’t believe…” 

You hush her solemnly, laying your head back against the couch to blink back the tears that have welled at your own.

Yoongi turned back towards his room with a grimace. You didn’t need pity. But he can’t imagine the anguish and sadness that you and your sister must feel, abandoned by your mother, and now your father had been possibly murdered. It just wasn’t something you or your sister deserved to experience, especially with Hyemi that young of an age and having to now grow up without both of her parents. 

.

“Be safe!” You call out the next day as you and the detectives drop off your sister at her school. Despite unable to retrieve clothes for the day, the school had allowed her to wear her physical ed uniform until the search in your home was done, unless you pay for a new uniform but that was unlikely. It appeared as though you were back to being well put together, Yoongi noted as you hug your sister briefly.

Hyemi only smiles as she nods, Hoseok promising to pick her up when she’s done. Her expression is tired, but she still attempts to put on a show to mirror the strength of your facade. 

“I miss having school friends like that,” you sigh as you watch Hyemi disappear behind the school gates with a friend.

“Did you even have friends, with that attitude of yours?” Yoongi scoffs playfully as he begins driving towards the precinct.

You glare at the back of his head while Hoseok tries to diffuse the situation, “I did actually. I had good grades at that time! That was all before… that happened…” Your voice trails off and Yoongi wonders if he went too far. It seemed apparent now that your father’s debt had something to do with your personality. Could it also have been the estrangement of your mother? If the one you were referring to was in fact your mother. 

“Just sit at my desk and be quiet, don’t talk to anyone except Hoseok,” Yoongi says when you all arrive at the precinct. You frown at this but quietly do what he says when all eyes are on you.

“Dang Yoongi, what are you doing bringing your girlfriend to work?” Taehyung snickers as he enters from the break room. 

The elder glares at him, although the other officers in the room join the younger in snickering and teasing the usually cold man.

“Oh hyung,” Jimin perks up at his sudden appearance, beckoning him over, “I found information on the pictures you found.”

“Pictures?” You ask, “From my apartment?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi grimaced, motioning for you to come over. He couldn’t keep anything from you after all, you would’ve argued it as your right to see if it had to do with your family. “I hope you don’t mind, I picked up a couple of pictures I found in order to find some kind of connection to your father.”

“Not at all,” You blinked, wondering what he was getting out until he peered over the brunette to stare down at the two pictures with noticeably two different women. You’ve never seen the picture with the woman holding an infant before, and it was way too obvious that the child was you. “Where’d you get this?”

“I was looking around and found a broken picture frame, that picture was hidden behind the family portrait,” Yoongi explained, tapping on the second picture with the unknown woman, “You’ve never seen it before?”

You shake your head with a frown, brows furrowed in confusion, “I’ve never seen this woman ever in my life… but I do know that that is me she’s holding.”

“How ‘bout this woman?” Jimin ask, pointing to the woman you called your mother, the one you claimed to have left you and Hyemi.

“Our mother,” you point out with a shrug, “She’s off on her own with her own family now.”

“Right, well this woman…” he points at the one holding the infant, “I found her file, but not as a homicide case. Long time ago, her body was found in the river. It appeared she drove her car into the water, according to witnesses, and drowned, there were no signs of foul play so it was deemed a suicide.”

“There was no records on her, her only reported family is a younger brother… mm Hong Suk, I believe.. I have yet to look up his files at the moment.”

“And the other?” Yoongi asks, peering at your expression, but you hide your emotions better than usual.

Jimin holds up the family picture, “No criminal history as well, she seems to be living in a rural town outside of Seoul.”

“Do you have the address? I would like to ask her some questions.”

Despite you not wanting to see your mother, Yoongi insisted on bringing you with him and Jimin to the new home of your estranged mother. It felt weird standing outside the front door with the two donning their uniforms as they wait for someone to open the door. Footsteps resound behind the door, followed by clicks of the locks before an older woman opens the door. You recognize her immediately as the woman who left you and your sister.

“(Y/n)?” She asks, her voice surprised as she regarded the two officers politely, “What’s going on?”

“Ma’am, if we could have a moment of your time to ask you a few questions, that would be great,” Yoongi says after bowing his head respectfully, “Of course, you’re not obligated to answer if you wish not to… but it would be very beneficial considering this concerns your former husband who was found dead in his apartment the other day.”

Her eyes widen at this, looking at you for affirmation. You can only look away sadly, rubbing your palms together when there’s nothing more to be said when Yoongi said it all already. It’s not like you had anything to say to her anyway for leaving your family to join another. You just couldn’t let that fact go, even as she invites the three of you in for some tea to talk over the details and questioning.

“I see…” She starts, sitting down across from the three of you while pouring cups of freshly brewed tea for you all, “It must’ve been hard on you and Hyemi, huh?”

“Don’t act like you care about us,” You snap back harshly, looking away from her saddened smile. You could care less if she pitied you. Even now, you wondered why Jimin and Yoongi wanted to question her. It didn’t seem like she knew anything other than the fact that he was going into bankruptcy. 

Yoongi clears his throat audibly, slicing through the tension between you both.

“Lastly, do you happen to know the woman in this photo?”

You mother’s eyes widen in recognition, holding the picture of the unknown woman and child, “Wow, haven’t seen this photo in such a long time, you looked so cute then, (Y/n).”

You squint at her, not knowing what she meant. Obviously, the child looked like you, but you had no recollection of who that woman was.

“You and your mother.”

Standing up suddenly, your eyes widen at her, “What?”

Her lips pull into a guilty smile, eyes staring right down at the picture, “This woman’s your mother.”

“How can that be so?” You urge on, biting your lip at the sudden news.

“Before your father and I got married, he was seeing another woman who bore his first child. As much as I tried despising you after her death, I just couldn’t even after I gave birth to Hyemi. I could only love you even more,” she explained, “I didn’t know too much about that woman, but she had such a big effect on him… it made me jealous how even after her suicide he cared a lot for her… I could only choose to drive myself away from him when I just couldn’t take being second in his heart over her.”

She notices the look you have on your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration to remember but to no avail. It makes her smile weakly. 

“You have her looks too,” she laughs, “She was a beautiful and strong woman I’ll tell you that… she was great at hiding her emotions… maybe that’s why your father couldn’t tell her signs of postpartum depression until after her death…”

“Do you know much about her brother?” Yoongi asks, cautiously gauging your expression.

The woman shakes her head with a grimace, “I’m sorry, unfortunately I don’t know too much about him. This is as much I can offer to help.”

“No, thank you,” Yoongi bows sincerely, as does his partner, “We’re grateful you agreed to let us question you.”

As Jimin and Yoongi pay their respects and bow, the woman you had thought to be your biological mother catches you at the elbow. Her expression is meek as she looks down immediately and retreats her hand from you.

“Listen (Y/n), you have my condolences for your father and your mother… I know it doesn’t mean anything coming from me, but take care of yourself and Hyemi please. I… if there’s anything I can do… maybe a place to stay… I heard about the apartment… it’s not much but I can roll out a futon in the living room… my husband won’t mind much...”

“I know you may not ever forgive me for leaving you both, but I truly do care for you two.”

You smile sadly back at the older woman, “Thank you for the offer, I’ll bring it up to Hyemi, but as for me… I will not ever stay with you. If you had cared as much as you say, you would have stayed. ” Bowing deeply, you give her a silent nod before turning to follow Yoongi who had been waiting there for you. His mouth is sewn together in a taut grimace as he bows once again to your step mother and leads you towards the car. To him, you were prissy and hard headed but it was these moments where he remembers what you’re going through and how you’re handling it as maturely as you could. 

“I’ll see what I can do at your place, it’s only been a day so I can’t promise much clearance for your clothes.”

You couldn’t blame him if you had to wait another day for clothes, for now you had work to worry about. Although, you couldn’t keep yourself from mulling over the newly found information that is who your real mother is and the fact that she was dead. It was hard to accept, but you decidedly pushed the information to the back of your head for now as you wait for the two detectives to drive to your old apartment. From the parking lot below, you watch as the two approach other officers and converse, probably trying to get you a change of clothes.

They disappear into the home before the blonde reemerges and leans over the railing. He catches your eye and gives a curt shake of his head. You visibly slump, an action he later apologizes for when the two return to the car and explain how they have the apartment under lockdown still, clearance was still a possibility tomorrow and he’ll bring you first thing in the morning. 

“Do you need me to stay and watch over you?”

You blink at the man. Was he growing a third head? 

“I’ll be fine.”

Sighing, he glances at the bar front, frowning when a man walks from within the building, his appearance screaming exceptionally sleazy. Not to stereotype, but the ragged facial hair and barely made bed head, along with an inconspicuous beer belly threatening to pop open the straining button on his jeans, give Yoongi bad vibes. 

“The other night can beg to differ,” his harsh voice rasps, “You don’t know if your father was specifically targeted, they may also be going after you.”

“I can handle myself!” You start to retort, hand curling around the door handle to exit the vehicle.

However, Yoongi grips at your wrist to keep you from leaving, “Yeah? Because you totally had it covered lying on the ground while four men two or three times your size were about to do God knows what to you. I’d say it was well handled.”

Fucking sarcasm. Yoongi bit you in the ass where it hurt.

Your face flushes brightly at that. He had a point and you hated to admit that he was right. Without him there, you could’ve been taken advantage of or worse.

“I only say this out of worry, I know gross, but I’m serious when I say that you may or may not be targeted and we are not about to risk your safety because you can handle yourself.”

It’s safe to say that your conversation ended at that, and Yoongi drops you off momentarily so he can go home and change into civilian clothes. It would be too suspicious for a detective to be in uniform and hanging around in a bar until closing. For emergencies, he kept a holster fastened around his waist, underneath his shirt, in case something does happen. When he returns, you, dressed in your uniform, immediately catch his eye as soon as he enters. He sits casually in a booth in the far corner of the room where he has view of the whole bar. A subtle nod of his head suffices in greeting, but you still blow a raspberry and walk over. 

“Are you even allowed to be serving me alcohol?” He asks with a raises brow and you have to keep all you can from smashing the drink menu into his deadpan. You weren’t even sure if he was being serious or joking. Before you can retort, he waves his hand, “Forget it, just get me water, alcohol won’t do me good if something really does happen to you.”

“Why? Is your tolerance low?” You quip back venomously.

“I’d like to say the same to you, because apparently you’re an adult,” He mocks with an over-the-top scratching nasally tone. 

“Fuck off.”

And one point goes to Yoongi as you stomp back to grab him his water. His eyes narrow when you come walking back and a hand purposefully reaches out to cop a feel of your rear. His fingers tap over his lap, itching to shoot a bullet through the asshole’s hand, when you accidentally step on the guy’s foot with menace. 

Oh.

“Hey you bitch, you just stepped on my shoes!”

Fingers grip harshly to your wrist, yanking you back to the pervert’s table. Yoongi is already up on his feet and stepping in between you and the other man. He places a hand over the male’s wrist, the one keeping your struggling arm from escaping.

“I suggest you let go of her.”

The man raises a brow, narrowing his eyes in irritation at his meddling, “This has nothing to do with you, I suggest you sit down or I punch your pretty face and make you bleed.”

“And she obviously did not like you touching her ass, you pig, so let her go.”

“Hah?” The man balks at the insult, shoving your arm away in favor of standing to his full height, towering over the detective. “Say that again to me, pretty boy, I fucking dare you.”

The situation ultimately ends with Yoongi’s absolute domination and the two getting kicked out however. You’re still flattered that he stuck up for you nonetheless. Your boss had different thoughts however at the whole situation, especially when he’d definitely saw the deliberate stomp on his customer’s foot.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you to just ignore the customers, we’ll be losing business because of your stupid pride!” 

The blonde waits within ear distance, receiving your text that you would be leaving out the back right now. He immediately stopped when your boss had followed you outside. A slap to the face and Yoongi’s breath hitches. His fingers dig into his thighs through the fabric of his pockets. 

“You’re lucky you still have a job, stupid bitch.”

When Yoongi steps out from the shadows, you can barely look him in the eye. You’re back in the clothes he had dropped you off in, your gaze downcast and your cheek raw and stinging from the hit. Where was the headstrong girl he’d met the few nights before? 

“Does this always happen?” he attempts as he walks beside you towards his car. A sidelong glance is sent his way, a raised brow to accompany the look.

“Which are you referring to? The ass grab or my ass of a boss?’

“Both really.”

Not sure what compels him, he opens the passenger door for you. A gesture that is met by an eyebrow raise, making him question his own actions. You don’t comment thankfully, ducking into the car. 

“It’s common, I’ve gotten used to it by now,” you reply once he’s situated in the driver’s side, both strapping in your seat belts. He hated that you merely shrugged it off, like you didn’t just get berated by your boss. You deserved better than that. 

“That’s concerning.”

You stifle a snort at that. “That’s new, coming from you.”

“Am I a jerk to you or something?” He raises a brow as he turns on the ignition, the car purring to life. Your gaze is drawn to his slender ivory fingers, wrapping around the emergency brake handle. How was it even possible for him to have such pretty hands? They move to put the car in drive and you’re faintly aware that he’s waiting for a reply.

“N-not really… like you’re an ass sometimes but it kinda feels like you’re being forced to babysit me.”

“You’re my case after all.” It’s nonchalant, shrugging as if it were natural, but you still couldn’t help the unintended sting they inflict in your chest. If only you knew how in denial he was, trying to convince himself that you were indeed strictly a job he had to take care of.

“That’s not the point fuckhead, you and Hoseok let me into your home, a stranger, and now you’re taking me to work and watching over me…”

“We couldn’t have you staying on the streets when you barely have enough pay to afford an inn, not like that was an option when it’s possible someone’s coming after you and your sister,” he sighs this time, barely taking his eyes off the road to regard you with a frown, “Speaking of your sister, what are you going to do about your… er her mother’s offer?”

“I’ll bring it up to her… she misses her sometimes you know?… She might want to stay with her… I guess it’s also better than staying in a house with two grown men.”

His eyes narrow.

“What are you insinuating, brat?”

“As for me though,” you continue, ignoring him to his discontentment, “I can’t forgive her, with or without her being blood related, Hyemi can stay with her if she wants but I will never accept her help.”

And just as you claim, your younger sister is almost ecstatic to finally see her mother again. The elder woman smiling meekly at the young girl who glomps her with a big hug, her things in your hands as you silently pass them off to the one you had once called your mother. She attempted to smile your way and offer to shelter you as well, but you choose to ignore it.

“Take care of her. Please.”

It throws her off momentarily, but she can’t blame you.

“I will. You be safe too.”

Hyemi hugs you tightly, frowning and the verge of sobbing a protest. But you kiss her forehead and ruffle her hair, “Be strong for me, okay? Yoongi and Hoseok are gonna bring justice to Dad, okay?”

“But you can stay here too…” She knows how much you despise your… her mother after she left. Even if she never stopped loving and missing her, you could not find it in yourself to forgive her for it, ever. 

“I’ll see you when this is all over, okay?”

You’re silent on the drive back home, cooking dinner, and then crawling onto the couch that is half empty now that Hyemi is going to be under her mother’s care for the time being.

The cushions dip under an added weight, your eyes glancing to the side to see Yoongi sitting there with his eyes trained on the television screen. He was clad in sweatpants and a tee shirt, a look that you had to silently admit looked very appealing on his lean body. His eyes slide to meet your gaze, your cheeks warming as you look away in embarrassment. He doesn’t comment on your staring, thankfully.

“You don’t plan on sleeping in your clothes from yesterday again, do you?”

You look to him again, confused this time.

“What are you implying?”

He sits there for a while, his mind thinking like cogs turning in his brain before he gets up abruptly and returns to his room. You don’t pay him any attention, glancing down at your phone when Hyemi texts you a goodnight followed by various heart emojis. A smile graces your face. Before it’s gone when Yoongi launches a shirt and shorts at your head.

Yanking the garments from your head, you shoot him daggers before glancing down at the clothes. His clothes. A romance trope that your high school persona would have gushed over. 

“How cliche, didn’t see you as the type.”

“Shut it, or I’m taking it back.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug and shift to get up from the couch.

“Wouldn’t your girlfriend be jealous to see me wearing your shirt?”

“What girlfriend?”

“The one you were with that night, when you… stuck your nose in my business,” you recall the woman he’d been with that night, the one who had clung to his side after the police had shown up to detain the rowdy customers that had cornered you.

“You mean saved you, brat. It was a blind date. The idiots are trying so hard to tie me down, but I just don’t need one.”

You had almost been excited to hear that he was single. 

“How ‘bout you? Got a boyfriend?”

“Do I look like I have one?”

Glancing you up and down, he shrugged with a quirk of the side of his mouth into a subtle smirk, “With that attitude? I’d be surprised if you even had a friend.”

He was relieved. 

...What?

You roll your eyes, should’ve seen that one coming. “Okay asshole, to answer your question, no I don’t have one.”

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

What even were these replies?! What even was the way you felt nervous around him? You take this chance to head to the bathroom to change quickly, his shirt slightly big on your form as well as tightening the drawstring all the way. Before heading out, you pause to stare into your reflection. 

How did it even come down to this? Dressed in the clothes of a man you hadn’t known for longer than two days. How did it even amount to the rosiness that bleeds across your cheeks and the muddled mess that’s your beating heart.

Returning, he’s taken a seat on the couch to your surprise, waiting for you to return possibly. You didn’t want to bring your hopes up. 

...What? No no no, you did not just think that. 

You muster up the courage to force down the lump in your throat and sit down beside him, pulling your legs up to your chest as you join him in watching the cartoon on screen. Then you break the silence once more.

“Can I ask you something?”

You cast him a glance, unaware of the heat burning at his cheeks and ears, his eyes flickering every now and then to drag over your form in his clothes. His adam’s apple bobbing with his swallow.

“What?” his reply comes out smooth, biting his lip in attempt to cool his head.

“Why are you so concerned?”

He deadpans, “Great question, you’re a brat, annoying, no ass on top of that, can barely fight for shit, get yourself into trouble quite often too…”

Irritated, you grab a pillow and launch it at his head, “So you are babying me you ass!”

“You’re my case, deal with it,” he scoffs, catching the item before it hits the side of his face.

After a moment passes, he breaks the silence that had settled after your outburst.

“Can I ask you something then.”

“What?”

“Why stay there?”

You blink, looking up at the ceiling as though the answer were there, “The bar? Not a lot of places take a girl with a delinquency record you know? I didn’t continue after high school, so I’m really limited.”

He wanted to ask you to quit. But that didn’t seem right. It didn’t even add up. Who was he to tell you to do so? You’re just a case. That’s why he cared. Because he was going to be the one who closes your father’s case and bring justice for what happened to him.

...Even if you were pretty and looked really nice in his clothes.

“I know what you’re going to say, even my dad didn’t like me working there. It’s shit. I know. The boss, an asshole, but it’s all I could manage to support my father and Hyemi. Sometimes I do wish I could go back to school.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Hyemi, remember? My father was busting his ass off when someone had paid his debts and salvaged his company, so he’s working hard to pay the him back.”

This was new.

“Him?”

“Father didn’t really talk about work too much. So I don’t really know who helped him, but it really stressed him out paying back whoever had helped him out.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over his mouth as you yawn beside him. The action was cute. 

“Speaking of,” He starts out, garnering your attention once again, “How are you holding up?”

You figured he was talking about your father again. How were you feeling? Sad? Empty? Angry? A mixture of anything and everything negative? He was no therapist, but as much as you can smile at Hyemi and act strong for her, the emotion never reached your eyes. You were exhausted and grieving, but it never helped that you still had to pick yourself back up for the sake of your sister and having to take life on despite the misgivings of the world taking your father away from you both. Moreover that, he wondered how you felt knowing your actual mother was not the one you’d grown up with. He wanted to know what was going inside your head, how you were able to just keep going despite everything being thrown at you in an effort to drag you down.

It all reminded him of Jimin, but in a way you were still very different from the boy he’d met many years ago. You, however, were very good at putting a smile on your face despite the exhaustion in your eyes from putting up a front. 

Just as he says, the ghost of a smile curls at your lips, your eyes glancing down at your toes.

“I’m not sure if it’s even hit me, to be honest, I’m not even sure how to feel about my mom not being my mom,” You say, followed by a humorless laugh, “I cried with Hyemi, yeah… but there’s no time for me to grieve or crumble… I’m sure even he wouldn’t want us wasting away because of his death…”

“You still should give yourself the chance to let it out.”

The sentiment was there, you suppose, touched by his concern for your emotional wellbeing.

“The night before, the night we met too, he gave me coupons to take Hyemi out to eat… I wonder if he knew… he said said he loved us… and it sounded so sad… even knowing that would be last time we got to say that to each other… I wonder if he expected this to happen…”

“Besides that… I just don’t want Hyemi to see me like that…” You say finally after a moment of silence, “I want to be strong for her. It might just seem like its the end if I can barely hold myself up, you know?”

He understood that.

“Enough of the sad talk, you might actually make me cry you jerk.”

You both continued to talk, and you were grateful for his presence. Although you both butted heads, quite a lot actually, you let him whisk you away from thinking about your father and the situation just for right now. You let him lead the conversation, talking about some of the disgusting things he’s seen as a part of the homicide unit, talking about how he’d gotten his adoptive brother to calm down and even get a girlfriend despite his stigma against women, talking about how Hoseok nearly set their apartment on fire trying to make stir fry one night. 

Yoongi didn’t notice how you both drifted off naturally, the lights still on and the television still running with the late night shows. His eyes blink away the remnants of sleep when a hand shakes his shoulder. Adjusting to the lights still on, he almost forgets where he was before he’d fallen asleep, Hoseok’s smirking expression coming into view as the younger points to the pressure on his shoulder. He doesn’t even need to look to know that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, your body shifting slightly to curl closer to him, the upright position no doubt uncomfortable for your back and neck.

Don’t even think about it, his eyes glare back at his partner who wiggles a suggestive brow, but still helps him remove you from his side and tuck you into a more comfortable position. 

Yoongi doesn’t want to look at you, but he steals a peek at your calm expression, heart picking up in speed as he reaches out to brush his palm over your head. 

The next morning, your neck is slightly uncomfortable for a reason you don’t know, but you choose to ignore as you cook breakfast for the day. 

“How is it over there, get some good sleep?” You ask as Hyemi’s face bobs around the screen at the excitement of your video call in the morning. 

“Mhm, they’re really nice to me, Naeun is really cute, you should meet her!” 

You never really knew the names of your two half siblings, that were biologically only Hyemi’s half siblings, but the awkwardness in what to call your supposed mother and her kids made your head hurt. The girl shifts the phone to show ‘Naeun’ who looks both shy and confused at your form cooking breakfast and still glancing at your phone propped up against a roll of paper towels.

“Hi?” You manage as Hyemi giggles and the camera is pointed back on her face. In the background, you can hear voices as your sister nods to the speaker before turning back towards you.

“I’m getting dropped off to school now, let me know if I can get my uniform soon! I miss you unnie!”

Her smile is the last thing you see before the call is ended and you feel slightly relieved. At least she was able to smile. That much was helpful enough to soothe your worries being without Hyemi for an indefinite amount of time.

Yoongi is noticeably stiffer around you today as they receive clearance for yours and Hyemi’s room only. You drop by to pick up some clothes as well as necessities and Hyemi’s things, that you drop off to the latter’s mother’s house. They drop you off at the restaurant you work at while they head back to the precinct and then your apartment again with Jimin and Taeyung.

“We got word back from forensics,” Jimin says as they once again go over the living room, your father’s body replaced by a taped off silhouette, “No prints, not even fragments either, I’m not surprised though, given the proximity he must’ve been shot at.”

“Did you get anything on Hong Suk?” Yoongi asks as they venture into the messy room of your father. The matress was thrown off its frame, planks scattered out of formation. The cubicles of the dresser were yanked out, clothes strewn all over. 

“His record is clean from what I could tell, although there was a file involving the mysterious death of their parents. I believe he’s the one taking over her father’s company at the moment.”

“I see, maybe we should pay a visit to the company,” the blonde hums as takes a step and pauses. Crouching down, the younger notices this and comes over as he raps his fist against the floorboards. Running his finger over the floor, he catches a noticeable square patch that he pries open to reveal a hidden compartment. 

Heroin. Their eyes staring down the plastic bag of the packaged substance. 

Was this what the killer was looking for? Why was your father hiding drugs in your home? What was going on?

Yoongi decides to keep the drugs a secret from you. They couldn’t draw too many conclusions from the pack when they returned to the precinct with the package as well as hair follicles that Hoseok had luckily found. He just wasn’t about to break it to you that your father was hiding drugs, it would break you. You obviously had no idea what he did or who had helped out his company, knowing this would only tear you down.

From the restaurant, it’s a walk away from the bar, where you feel an eerie feeling of being watched. You had hurried to work despite the feeling, but the discomfort never left when one customer in particular appears nervous and fidgety around you. He gives you a negative vibe that you try to avoid, but when you glance his way, his eyes are on you before quickly flicking away. He fumbles with his hands quite often, sliding his palms together as if they were sweating profusely. 

“Yo-you’re really cute,” He attempts very awkwardly when you take his drink order. You can only internally cringe and simply thank him, the searing eyes of your boss watching you after the scuffle from the other night. 

“I’m going to have to politely decline,” You force out when he offers to take you out for a coffee or something, definitely ignoring the way you shift from one foot to another and try to leave. 

It doesn’t help that you see him outside the bar, waiting for you, glancing at the entrance as you get into Yoongi’s car hurriedly.

The blonde raises a brow at your frantic state until you point out the man. “That guy was creeping me out today, he was there ever since I started my shift and kept staring at me and insisting that I go out with him.” The memory of his eyes constantly on you made you shiver.

Brown eyes narrow at the fidgety male, glancing over his appearance, watching the way he rubs his hands together nervously before driving away.

“Let me know if he comes back,” he says finally, briefly placing his hand over your head. A gesture that you’re thankful for.

“Did you find out anything new today?” You ask the inevitable question when you both have long returned to his apartment and finish up clearing the table from dinner. He helps wash the dishes while you dry. Yoongi almost curses your ability to somehow read the flash of hesitancy that shifts in his eyes. “You found something didn’t you?”

He also curses that he can’t find it in himself to lie to you about the drugs hidden in your dad’s room. It was unneeded stress on your shoulders, but you’re smarter than you let on as you wait for him to answer you. He notices the way you pout, and wills himself to keep a sturdy front, despite his heart exploding with butterflies.

“Stop that, you’re not cute,” He huffs, but if having to live with you for the past three days meant anything, he knew that you wouldn’t quit pestering him, as well as rip him a new one for calling you uncute. “We found a DNA sample in the apartment…”

“And?”

He blinks at you. God you were too smart for your own good. 

“...”

“Min Yoongi.”

Oh. That was new. You’ve never referred to him using his full name. He stuffs the thought that he quite likes the way you say his name, even if you were currently annoyed, away. 

“No,” He grumbles, ruffling his bangs as he finishes putting away the last of the dishes you towel-dried.

“You promised.”

“I didn’t promise shit.”

Fuck. There’s that face again.

“You’re an ass.”

He snorts, “At least I have one.”

You physically start punching him, although more halfheartedly. 

“We found packs of what we presume to be heroin, hidden in a compartment under his bedroom floor.”

All movement comes to a halt. Eyes wide as your hands fall to your sides. This is exactly why he didn’t want to tell you. An array of emotions glimmer in your eyes, he recognizes each stage of realization and hurt and confusion, your lips opening and closing. 

“You don’t think… he would never!”

“We aren’t jumping to conclusions, I just knew you would overthink and stress out your little head over it.”

You settle down at his words, shoulders slumping and your hands open and closing at your sides as you look down. Your father would never do such a thing, right? Given your new found knowledge of his mistress, your biological mother, was he resorting to desperate measures from the loss of not one but two women he had loved dearly. Was it the job? Was he trying to pay back his debt through nefarious means? Was this the reason he’s so worn down? 

Guilt dug itself into your chest. If only you could’ve done more, if only you could’ve been stronger. 

“You weren’t planning on telling me about this?”

Yoongi doesn’t flinch, but his chest squeezes, knowing you would have been upset with him either way. Hair blocks his eyes from searching for the hurt that’s probably found its way onto your expression, he’d only feel worse if he saw it anyways.

“You have plenty to worry about as it is,” He says with a gentle and hesitant hand over your head, “This was exactly what I was trying to avoid, you’re probably blaming yourself right now, aren’t you?”

Curse him for being able to read you so well. Then again, your head hung down wasn’t exactly a connotation that exuded happiness or anything that wasn’t sadness and frustration. Curse him again for inadvertently causing the influx of butterflies trapped in your chest at the slightest brush of his palm over the crown of your head. 

“I hate you,” You mutter, glaring up at him weakly.

“You’re so uncute,” He huffs back to your further annoyance.

The thought was appreciated though. He had thought about you, and that warmed you just thinking about it. For now, you frowned at once again being called not cute and leave him to get ready for bed.

Hoseok drops you off at the restaurant the next day after Yoongi heads to the apartment first thing with Jimin and Taehyung.

“How you doing so far?” The brunette smiles good naturedly as he turns on the car.

You never really spoke to Hoseok one-on-one before, but he radiated an easy-go-lucky air similar to Taehyung, if you remember his name right. His smile seemed to calm you down and soften any guard you had up. It was a polar opposite from the limited expressions that Yoongi expressed around you. Limited meaning, deadpan all day everyday, with the occasional frown and annoyed glare.  

“I’m holding up okay, I guess?” 

He hums at that, “Hyung get on your nerves last night?”

You balk at him, were you two that loud last night? The echo of his words calling you uncute last night haunted you suddenly and you looked away with a pout. It beats you that you mull over the statement rather than his unwillingness to keep you posted on your father’s case.

“He’s an ass.”

“He is,” He chuckles lightly, “But he seems a little more… human around you, you know? It’s quite refreshing.”

“What do you mean?” You ask curiously, interest piqued.

His eyes meet yours briefly as he comes to a stop light, “He’s a little cold, yeah? He’s barely expresses anything other than blank, and he doesn’t even talk a lot unless it’s around Jimin’s girlfriend… but lately he’s been different with you around.”

“Are you sure? He inadvertently called me ugly last night,” You say with a scornful frown.

“Those two share the same wavelength in a way,” He hums nonchalantly, “He’s not entirely socially adept, the same as Jiminie who calls his girlfriend grandma quite often… but that’s beside the point. What do you think of him?”

The question shocks you. What were you supposed to think of him after just a few days spent with him? He teased you, and yet he also took care of you in a way. He made you feel safe and calm despite everything that’s spiraling into hell around you. He made everything just a little bearable. That much you can admit… to yourself.

“You’re cute, you know?” The brunette says, yanking you out of your thoughts with the surprising compliment. He laughs heartily as your cheeks brighten at the sudden proclamation. “Hyung must think that too… ah, looks like we’re here, watch out for yourself heading to the bar after. Give us a call if you don’t feel safe or something happens, yeah?”

Your eyes linger on his carefree smile, huffing as you finally thank him for the ride. There was no point in dealing with thoughts of Yoongi right now, you had to work and just get through the day for now. 

Hoseok makes an amused sound before he’s interrupted by his message tone, his eyes tearing away from your form disappearing into the restaurant to appraise his cell phone. 

‘The guy who was creeping out (Y/n) last night was snooping around her apartment suspiciously. We took him in for questioning, meet at the precinct after you drop her off.’

A sigh leaves his lips as he sets down his phone to start driving again. 

These two are so oblivious, he thinks.

 Yoongi sits at the metal table, elbows propped up on the hard surface with his digits laced one over the other, his mouth pressed against his hands. His eyes are hard steel as they gaze down at his files, courtesy of Jimin’s research, before looking up to the fidgety man. The other flinches at the attention, nearly shitting right then and there when the door suddenly opens to Hoseok. 

Lee Hoon. The exact same features from the other night, as well as the same habit of rubbing his hands together. He’d thought maybe he had a small creepy crush, but it didn’t even make sense for him to show up at your apartment. Was he a stalker? That night was the first time you’d interacted, right? Had he watched from afar prior? Followed you home? 

The thought made him more irritated than he expected as he skims over the details of him being an employee at your father’s company.

Oh.

Under his scrutiny, the poor guy’s ready to wet his pants just by Yoongi existing. 

“Lee Hoon. Correct?”

“Y-yes.”

“You work under the late (y/l/n)-ssi’s company right?”

“Yes, I was part of the few who stayed after the business fell into debt.”

Yoongi hums as Hoseok’s airy tone seems to relax the suspect greatly. It didn’t lessen the grating sight of his chestnut hue glaring into his very soul.

“Saves us some time, I suppose, we were planning on heading over to the company to ask a few questions about your late boss,” the blonde muses this time, lifting his chin just slightly in indignance, almost gazing down on him, “Might I ask what you were doing lurking around (y/l/n)-ssi’s apartment?”

The man doesn’t answer, but he takes this into stride.

“And at the bar? His daughter mentioned interacting with you, you even stood outside waiting for her.”

“That couldn’t have possibly been me,” He manages firmly, but Yoongi watches his movements carefully, the way his eyes flicker and dilate, even the slightest bit, “I’ve never spoken to or seen his daughters before.

“Mm, I see,” Hoseok hums, noting how riled up his partner is more than usual, “Let’s back track a little bit shall we? While working under (l/n)-ssi, was there any malicious intent… or well any negative blood from other workers?”

The man shook his head, “Not that I’m aware, Sir was a good man and an attentive boss as well. Everyone spoke highly of him, even as the company took a nose dive. He worked harder than the rest of us.”

That was no lie. His hand rubbing never seized out of anxiety, but he had visibly perked at the question. 

“I see,” Hoseok nods at the information, before he laces his fingers underneath his chin, a cheshire smile curling at his lips, “I don’t suppose you know what comes with being indicted for homicide, do you?”

“Capital Punishment.” The two words are broken apart with heavy pauses for emphasis as he watches the man squirm uncomfortably, “His poor daughters are left without a father, nor an acting mother… I can only imagine the monster who was involved in such thing, how he’s able to live with himself and touch his wife and kids without a single remorse. Even the sick person who would be such a monster’s accomplice, guilty by association amirite?”

“It really beats me,” Hoseok smiles kindly, as Jimin and Taehyung shiver through the one-way mirror. 

“Hyung can be really scary sometimes.” The brunette rubs his arms, goosebumps littering his skin as Jimin makes a noise of agreement. The guilt that spills over Hoon’s face is evident, especially when facing Hoseok’s sardonic smile. 

“He’s happy go lucky, but really, he’s two-faced,” Jimin blows a raspberry, “You’d think he’s on your side, but that makes it all the more easier to manipulate you into his hands.”

They immediately clamp their mouths shut as Hoseok continues to coax the man into spilling, that damned smile never leaving his lips. Anyone would see the smile of an angel, they saw the smile of a wolf in sheep’s skin.

That side of the older detective never really came out often, but it never failed to make the two youngest uncomfortable, the hair on the back of their necks rising. Normally playful and bright walnut eyes turned dark and cynical, no space for mercy or the kindness that feigned on his curled lips. 

“Hong Suk killed him! I-I, he brought me long to find the girl, and take the drugs he still had, but… but I couldn't find it… and he sent me back or else he’d kill me and my family!”

Did he mean you? They all thought, perking up at the statement.

Yoongi takes a break from the interrogation, leaving the room to greet Taehyung and Jimin on the other side of the one way mirror. He nods firmly to them, as he slips out his phone to check the time. 

“Picking up your girlfriend?” Taehyung sports a small smile despite just finding out your father’s killer. His partner elbows him with a slight frown. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you like her?”

Taehyung takes his silence as a yes. The blonde’s eye twitches in annoyance, “She’s my case.”

“That you have feelings for?”

“Taehyung I swear to God,” he frowns, directing his attention to Jimin who looks like he’s thinking way to hard. 

“Her being your case is different from liking her, hyung. I mean, I had always thought of my girlfriend as being nothing more than my case… I guess I didn’t realize until late that she meant a lot to me. You know… ‘cause Jungkook got to her before I could.”

“Invalid,” he deadpans. “I met her three days ago, I do not like her. That’s highly inappropriate.”

“That’s like saying Jimin’s relationship is inappropriate,” Taehyung snickers to Jimin’s annoyance, followed by a weak punch to his arm.

“We got together after I closed her case, you ass.”

“Still inappropriate,” The blonde shuts down once again as the door to the interrogation room opens.

“But you find her cute, no?” Hoseok smiles as he emerges from the room, glancing slyly back through the mirror to see the man reduced to trembles and holding his head in his hands.

“Did you break him Hobi, what the fuck?” Jimin balks, but the brunette ignores the younger’s statement.

“Yoongi, you can’t possibly tell me that you have no dick and didn’t feel anything when you both fell asleep two nights ago on the couch with (Y/n) wearing your shirt.”

The reaction is spontaneous. Taehyung and Jimin gasping none too dramatically as they bat their eyelashes in his direction, but he’s already turning around to hide the heat tinging his ears.

“Great, I have no dick, now fuck off I have to go pick her up from work,” He responds icily, shutting them up with a finishing glare over his shoulder. 

Liar. They all, even he himself, thinks. 

Fuck.

Is his last coherent thought however as the shift supervisor explains to him that you had stepped out for lunch but never came back, your things still there as well as your phone left on the pavement in the back. 

Everything comes crashing down, and despite his steel-like expression, he’s actually panicking and terrified. 

“Hoseok!” Yoongi’s voice strains into the phone, heart pounding in his ears as he jams the clip of the seat belt into the buckle. Dread is building up in his system, forehead breaking out into a sweat.

‘I got it hyung, don’t worry, he spilled the location of Hong Suk and his plans on kidnapping (Y/n), we’ve got our units ready to head out, I’ll send you the location.’

.

You feel sick to your stomach. Still dressed in your work clothes, body very inconveniently tied to the chair. When you had finally come to, confused and lethargic, he was there, watching you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you weren’t sure you even wanted to know - was… was that drool? The sight of slick falling from his mouth causes your stomach to lurch.

“Finally awake?”

Your mind is all over the place, barely able to concentrate, shaking off the remnants of being knocked out. For now, you didn’t know where you were, or who this man was. It didn’t even help being bound to your seat.

“You know your father left behind a real hefty debt you know? With him gone… who’s gonna repay me for saving his business?”

All thoughts come to a screeching halt when he steadily approaches and you become more aware of the room you’re in and the man - your assumed kidnapper. He wasn’t the one who had approached you at the restaurant if you remember correctly before you were knocked out. It looks no more than a regular bedroom consisting of: a bed with a pink comforter set, some stuffed animals, a desk with photo frames, a vanity, and a closet. It was the average girl’s room. And the man? Tall, (e/c) eyes that were wide as they scraped over your form, his body clad in slacks and a white dress shirt and tie. 

“What are you gonna do about it? Eldest right? And an illegitimate child at that,” his voice grates, saccharine sweet but more like needles in your ears. 

“How do you kn… D-don’t fucking touch me!”

Is what you would’ve said if it weren’t for the tape over your mouth. 

You wanted to lean away as far as could, nearly gagging as his hands reached out to caress your face. A blissed sigh comes from his almost manic smile, tension releasing from his shoulders as his fingers drag down lower, the curve of your neck, then over your shoulder. Your body trembles, the sense of fear filling you.

Stop, stop, stop, you think, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

Which he does to your surprise. His face comes closer this time, too close for comfort that his breath wafts over your face. You turn your head with a scrunch of your nose and he expects this, gripping your jaw harshly in his hand and whipping your head towards him. 

Where was Yoongi? Where were you?

“Did you even know? Your father fucked over a really important person to me you know. Drove her insane, killed her.” He whispers the last part at the shell of your ear, back away slightly to gauge the shock that morphs your face. Relishing in the way your brain works to piece together the puzzle, eyes darting as you analyze his face and the picture frames on the desk beside you. One in particular is of a family, a girl you recognize and a boy and their parents. The faces of their parents, scratched out with a permanent marker however.

The man laughs. Covering his face with his hand as he bends at the waist, keeling over and shaking with euphoria at your expression.

“Hah look at your face! Didn’t know that did you? Didn’t even know who your real mother was. You and your father. You killed her! My beloved sister. She was my world. My everything. But she was stupid. Falling for a business man like your father and leaving me, her beloved little brother by himself. Was pretty easy to take down his company to be honest. Lawsuits? Childsplay.” His eyes peek through the slits of his fingers, leering down on you.

“Which brings me back to my point, my cute little niece. What should I do with you? Not like I have any use for you anyway. I’ve got what I wanted, your father out of my way, and his business is now mine. Simple right? But don’t think you’ll be able to go after hearing all this, quite silly don’t you think? Where’s your little sister? She doing okay? Doesn’t matter.” He’s talking quickly, erratically, and you can barely keep up as he steps around the room with his hands gesturing wildly before coming to a stop. Eyes turned toward you, pointing almost accusingly, “You. You got her blood, her face, everything. Should I keep that for myself? God I wanted her to be mine, only mine, she was mine until your father stole her from me.”

Circling around you, he reaches out to tangle his hands in your hair. You yelp against the tape, scalp burning at the pull. He ignores the sound and instead sniffs the lock of hair and sighs blissfully. Yanking your head to the side, his nose presses to your neck, slithering his nasty tongue down your length as you struggle and attempt to shout against the tape over your mouth.

His nail drags across your neck slowly, harsh and painful, as though he were scraping off your skin. 

“Or how about I harvest your organs? I’ll keep your cute little head, fuck, you look just like her, it’s getting me a little... excited. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

Tears pour from your eyes, breathing as much as you can through your nose before it’s all cut off when his fingers dig into your neck. 

“But you’re not her, you could never be her! Why did you have to be born? Why did you have to kill her?” Anger burns in his eyes, nearly spitting in your face as he accuses you. Your arms attempt to thrash against the bindings, nails biting into your palm as his bite into your throat.  

Your vision is starting to thin, blurring before he stops at the abrupt echo of the doorbell. There’s barely enough time to register what’s happening, your ears ringing at the sound of gunshots and shouting. The door to the room was thrown open, but Hong Suk had already retrieved a knife and placed it at your neck, other hand yanking your head back by your hair. 

“Let her go Hong Suk.” That’s Yoongi’s voice. You blink multiple times, trying to focus on the figures that seem to melt together in your haze. Yoongi’s face is blurry, but you recognize the frown that marrs his pretty face, fire in his eyes when he takes in the state you’re in.

“Isn’t she cute?” Your biological uncle grins, taking a long sniff of your hair bunched up in his hands. He takes extra care in dragging his tongue over your cheek, revelling in the way the blonde growls. 

“I was thinking of experimenting on her too, reduce her to a begging little bitch once she’s gotten a taste of this,” his eyes dart to the plastic bag of needles on the desk, causing the blonde to stiffen.

I’m gonna kill him, Yoongi bristles, to which Jimin notices and nudges him subtly but keeping his aim trained on the deranged male. It was no use for him to get worked up, you were being held captive, it only mattered now to extract you without getting you hurt or even killed.

“How’d you find us?” He asks flippantly, pressing the knife to your neck, but not enough that your skin breaks underneath the sharp edge. 

“Your accomplice broke after half an hour.”

A moment passes as he seems to connect the dots and figure out just who they were referring to.

“That useless piece of shit! I should’ve killed him earlier!” He fumes at the realization, “Couldn’t find the drugs or the girl, making me do all the dirty work.”

Hoseok notices the dart of Hong Suk’s eyes, licking his lips carefully. “Put down the knife, you’re surrounded with no one coming to help you.”

He’s was right, and even the man knew that as he forced down an anguished sigh as he let the knife falter and his hands raise above his head in defeat. There was no use in resisting when every gun in the room pointed at him. 

Even when he did make a jolt for the gun lying in wait nearby, Yoongi was quick to put a bullet through his hand, causing the man to fall to the floor, clutching his wrist with a pained cry.

.

Yoongi comes rushing to your side outside after detaining Hong Suk and others in the home, other officers currently searching the home for anything pertaining to the heroin found in your father’s room. 

You sit on a gurney by the ambulance, finishing up the last of the check up from the paramedic. Your eyes finds his, examining his distraught expression, heavy with guilt at the same time. This was more of Yoongi than you’ve ever seen. The anger and disgust directed at Hong Suk, the subtle relief when you were extracted safely. So many emotions in one man, that you never knew he could experience when he appeared rather cold during your first meeting. 

“Thank you, for everything,” You smile wearily as he makes his way over to you, placing a fond hand over your head. When had that become your guy’s thing? Especially after barely a week of knowing one another. 

“Just shut up for a second,” he mumbles softly, his other hand balling into a tight fist at his side. The hand on your head slides back to press your face against his neck. His heart beats and he lets out a long sigh of relief. All the tension from earlier dissipates.

“You did well, you were so strong, and I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner… and let him touch you like that...”

“You’re here now,” you mutter meekly, pursing your lips as you inhale the calming scent of his body wash. 

“I am,” his voice replies lightly, a slight hint of a chuckle but not quite. 

Nothing changes that fact that you still stay at Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment for a while longer, although you grow busy with handling your father’s cremation and funeral (an event that has you and Hyemi crying nonstop)  and the court proceedings leading to the indictment of Hong Suk and his accomplices. Your father’s company had ended up being stripped, with Hong Suk as the acting head, he’d used it to further his drug production and distribution and organ trafficking (which is overturned to the narcotics unit and NIS respectively). Not that you could’ve done anything if you had inherited the company from your father. 

Yoongi finds you in your apartment looking through old photos of you, Hyemi, and your father. Most of which were pre-bankruptcy since your quality time together had taken a nose dive and joyful memories just weren’t made anymore. 

“What do you plan on doing from now on?” You look up, he’s there in casual clothing, hands shoved in his pockets of his slacks. Wow. The thought bubbled in your head, heart beating just a tad faster. He had always looked good to be honest, from the first you had met him on his post-date commute home, and when he came to watch you at the bar. Denim jeans and a plaid flannel over a plain tee? So simple and still drool worthy.

Okay.

No.

Not drool. The thought made you shiver, remembering Hong Suk that day.

Then you remember that you haven’t answered his question yet and you’re basically checking him out at this point while having an eternal thirst-driven panic.

“I don’t know to be honest,” You finally start shakily, brushing your fingers over a picture of your father tossing little Hyemi into the air, a huge smile on his face. His face was youthful and lively, no worries in the world and simply content. “My apartment is trashed and I don’t even know if I’d feel like staying here again when my dad’s gone and having to pay for rent and groceries by myself. I can’t have Hyemi staying with… her mom for too long as well.”

A moment passes and Yoongi takes a deep breath, soothing his nerves temporarily as he takes a determined step up to your side.

“What about staying with us… permanently?”

Your head snaps up to his, eyes widening a fraction as his warm gaze stared back. Heat rises to your cheeks, breaking the stare to look down at the frame in your hands with furrowed brows.

“That’s nice Yoongi, but I’m sure I’ve overstayed what’s acceptable of just a case, and I’ve got Hyemi too, your apartment is two roomed as well... ”

“You’re not just a case anymore,” He says simply when your voice finally falters.

“Why are you so concerned?”

Ouch.

You got him there. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read your tone and expression, but you refused to look up at him. Especially with your cheeks burning, you kept your head down. Were you teasing him? You had asked the same thing that night as well.

“Don’t make me say it.”

You prove your point by moving to leave, setting down the frame promptly as you did so, when his fingers wrap around your wrist to tug you back towards him.. 

“I hate you.”

You deadpan, “Very concerned, thank you for the past month Yoongi, but I should start figuring out what I’m going to do with my and Hyemi’s life.”

The utter frustration is so palpable in his low groan, you were so stubborn and he fucking loved it. 

“We’ll find a bigger place to stay (Y/n), we’ll take care of you two, you can quit that stupid bar job, start school again, you can rely on me.”

“Why?” 

God you were such a brat. His fingers squeeze your wrist briefly, hardened mocha staring into your own before he glances away. 

Do it.

It’s now or never.

“I like you, you stupid brat,” He finally admits. It had all pieced together that he stopped seeing you as a case to close. Although his time with you was short, way shorter than Jimin’s case with his own girlfriend, he fell face first into your charms. Annoying, but still goddamn charming. 

You look up at him, lip trembling as this flatten into a frown and you’re furrowing your eyebrows up at him, “You don’t mean that. I’m troublesome and bratty, all just like you said. We just met weeks ago, I only stayed with you because there was no other option and… and now you want us to stay with you… permanently? Why would you go so far? For someone like me?”

“I’m doing this ‘cause your sister’s cute,” He deadpans, and you almost take him seriously when he jabs your forehead with his index, “Fuckhead, did you not hear me? I like you.”

“Yoongi..” You gasp obnoxiously with a hand covering your mouth, “I didn’t know you were a pedophile.”

“I take it back, I hate you,” He grunts, “My offer still stands, we’ll take care of you, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck. 

Were you crying?

Were you seriously about to cry because of him?

He anticipates this and looks away while casually opening his arms to beckon you close. Although, he wasn’t expecting you to throw yourself, face first, into his chest. His palm settles over your head in that way he does that emits a sense of security that just calms. You don’t know what it is about him patting your head, you were no dog, you just liked it. A lot. You liked him. A lot. That much was evident with the creeping blush dusting over your cheeks.

It never helped either when you found yourself gradually nuzzling back against the pressure of his hand, urging him to keep his palm there. If you ever did get addicted to something, it would be the bubble of feelings that erupt in your chest, the quickening pace of your heart when he’s around, the glow of your cheeks when he’s got you so very flustered. 

“Is this how you flirt?” You ask when you finally calm down, as though you weren’t just smothering your snot and tears in his shirt and coddling his hand like a mutt, “Pick up a girl off the street and ask her to live with you. No dates. You’ve skipped quite a lot of bases.”

“I didn’t pick you off the streets you brat, I picked you up when you fainted here.”

“Okay listen, I don’t need to remember that.”

“Busted through the officers at the door like an absolute badass, can you imagine how exasperated I felt when I realized this was your apartment, especially after our encounter the night before?” 

“Even now is kind of not the best way for me to confess my feelings like a stupid teenage boy, but you’re so fucking stubborn.”

“What do you even like about me?”

“Despite being annoying, and a brat with no ass, and absolutely fucking stupid--”

“I don’t even think you like me, you bitch, stop insulting me.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, not even when we first met, I could only think about that dumb brat who managed to find trouble in an alleyway just begging to be kidnapped. To be honest. This was how Jimin found his girlfriend… he took on her case when she’d finally woken up from a coma… they didn’t necessarily like each other at first but he’s crazy about her. And I thought, fuck, this couldn’t be happening to me. This is a case, keep it professional. But then my dumbass offered you my shirt that night. You cooked for us. You’re so incredibly stubborn and hardworking, just for your sister and father, its admirable, I would go through the same for Jimin if I were in the same situation to be honest. When that bastard got to you before we could, I was scared. So fucking scared. He touched you, and I wanted to shoot him dead.”

He composes himself, emotions gone out of control just remembering the fear that built up inside him at the realization that you were gone and in the hands of the man who ordered your father’s death. Even Jimin had been surprised to see Yoongi directing more emotion than usual, especially when it didn’t have to do with his girlfriend. 

“Tell me it’s the same for you,” he whispers softly, so soft, you’re not sure he spoke. But he’s slightly embarrassed at his own courageousness and cheesiness. 

Your words fail you. Taking his hand on top of your head in your own hands, his heart jumps in his throat, were you going to reject him? After he finally stripped himself of his usually cold demeanor and calm facade? He was basically pouring his guts out in front of you, almost desperate to keep you with him when you’re the only girl, other than Jimin’s girlfriend, he’s expressed more than grimaces and frowns at. His heart pounds, like he’s fucking dying, palms clammy. He wanted to deny that he was ever attracted to a brat like you, but everything felt too domestic and he found himself caught in the snare of your fiery determination to work hard for your father and sister. 

He’d always thought that maybe he’d settle with a girl just as quiet as he was, collected, feminine, the type that he’d let dote on him and take care of him. But as you press a kiss to his cheek, the skin flaring with heat, he’s floored. 

“I might like you too…”

Safe to say that the boys won’t let Yoongi hear the end of it when he casually mentions that he and Hoseok found a new apartment with three rooms. He doesn’t even imply or mention your name and they’re hooting and hollering, Namjoon coming out of his office to join in on the fun to his exasperation. 

Please I needed this bonus ending:

You’re helping Hyemi organize her room, opening up the cardboard boxes with her things from your old apartment. Folding clothes and putting them into her dresser, you hum in response as she talks about the recent drama at school. You had sucked it up and thank her mother for taking care of her, stiffly smiling when she reminded you that she cared for you no matter what. It was just not an option at the moment to be able to forget how she abandoned you three. But you were still grateful that she took care of Hyemi for the past month, even with two kids of her own and new husband. 

“Mind if I steal her for a second Hyemi?”

A chirp comes from your sister in response and you barely have to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend. She shoos you when you make a face at her, giggling behind her hand as you cast scowls at her while Yoongi leads you towards your shared room. 

Despite only sleeping together once, on the couch at that, you could never get over the idea of jumping head first into a relationship and sleeping in close quarters immediately. Although, Yoongi had politely offered that he slept on the couch until you felt comfortable enough to sleep together. You were grateful for that, although he didn’t waste a second to tease you about being a middle school brat who couldn’t handle sleeping with a man, because hormones. In which you promptly dragged him to the bed to sleep together for the first time, although you could barely sleep a wink when he was just right there, breathing and existing. 

“Idiot, go to sleep, I can hear you overthinking,” He had whispered towards your back, voice raspier than usual and you just want to slam the pillow over your face and kindly die. It’s safe to say that he silently splayed his hand cautiously over your stomach, dragging you backwards until he’s flush behind you. Yoongi had waited until you protested or even moved away, but you relaxed against him, listening to your hearts beat in tandem and enjoying the way his thumb circling over your stomach soothingly. 

Hoseok finds you two the next morning and made it his mission to take a picture and send it to the other guys. A fact that Yoongi beats him up for.

Getting the new place, Yoongi had teased you endlessly about being fine with bunk beds since you were still a brat and could not handle your hormones around him. To which you punched him and demanded that one bed was fine, unless he couldn’t stand sleeping beside you without popping a hard one. 

Your room is for the most part put together, some boxes of miscellaneous items still yet to be put away. 

“What did you need?” You ask, not even realizing why he even needed to steal you from helping your sister.

“Nothing, really…” Arms wrap around your body and he’s pressing himself behind you, engulfing you in his warmth with his face tucked into the side of your neck. You weren’t convinced but he didn’t make any moves to say any more or move from his position.

“Yoongi.”

“Don’t make me say it,” he huffs.

“Yoongi.”

“Fuck off brat.”

He really just wanted to hold you in his arms after helping out Hoseok set up the living room and kitchen, but you’d just have to make him spit it out.

.

*I suddenly want to write one for Hoseok with the way I portrayed his character here... I also thought about just writing spin offs for the rest of the boys too. Minus JK, but then if I did... I do have a idea for him. :’) Just some afterward thoughts.

Just some tidbits of small details I added but weren’t really too important, but I wrote them in thinking they would be lol: 

I had mentioned in Hong Suk’s file that there’s a case found on the mysterious death of his and reader’s mom’s parents. He killed them. It’s not an important fact that I incorporated, but it was an idea to further that he had a sister complex and obsessed over her to the point of killing his parents when he felt threatened.

It was implied, but to make ends meet, Reader’s father dealt the drugs that Suk made - as a part of repaying him and manipulation out of guilt when Suk revealed to Reader’s father of his ties to Reader’s biological mother. It’s a small detail that didn’t have much importance, but I thought I would allude to the lengths the father would go to.

I realized lol that Hyemi wasn’t present for the rest of story, her role was only meant as the reason why Reader works so hard and keeps her emotions in check for the most part. Made her stay at her mom’s house because. PLOT. LOL I wasn’t just about to have Yoongi only give his clothes to reader and her sister is like tf am I?

I also tried to down play the attraction because they literally just met, but its a romance fic so there is still an attraction between the two and Yoongi just finds himself drawn to wanting to protect her especially when he admires her for being strong despite always getting on her nerves. The same goes for Reader who finds comfort with Yoongi protecting her when she stopped having someone to dote on her and protect her. Obviously I accelerate that by having a small time skip in the end where she still stays with them during the indictment and funeral service, so Yoongi and Reader are around each other for a little longer to develop more feelings. It’s just implied but I couldn’t find any other way to write it in lol...

I didn’t find a good place to mention in the bonus, but Reader will visit her biological mother’s cemetery at the crematorium. I’d like to say this may or may not be the same one that Interference’s MC’s family resides at, but well it’s just an idea. Despite not knowing her, she still pays her respects. Eventually, she comes around when Hyemi’s mother makes it her purpose to call every now and then to check on them. She was trying at the very least, especially for Hyemi, and it still never changed the fact that she grew up with her as her mother and not her own biological one. 

Anyhoot! Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed and please let me know what you think!! 

#don't even ask me why i wrote this much i cry #i shit my bowels out of me into this story lolol #no beta we die like men today #interference #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts scenario #bts imagine #suga x you #suga x reader #suga scenarios #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #kpop fanfic #bts au

[cherryblossomflowers]

An Old Life Meets A New (Pt27)

Pairing: Jensen x Daughter, Danneel x Stepdaughter, Jared x Niece

Warnings: Slight Cussing, Angst, Fluff, Death Mentioned, Car Accident Mentioned, Anxiety/Depression, Arguing, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Fighting, Sex Mentioned, Child Abuse, Drunk Abuse, Relationship Abuse, Alcohol

Summary: After the recent death of her mother, Harper must adjust to her new life in the Ackles home, this includes a new stepmother, half-siblings, and reconnecting with her father.

A/N: It’s time! Dennis vs Harper and Jensen. ONLY 3 CHAPTERS LEFT!!! No hate on Danneel or Jensen please. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

*NEW CHAPTER EVERYDAY AT 3PM CST*

An Old Life Meets A New Masterlist

Chapter 27

Harper stood abruptly from the bench, as did Jensen. They stared at the man walking towards them. Jensen could see the panic on Harper's face.

"I thought it was you," Dennis spoke as he walked towards them, "Though I'm surprised to see you in New York. I could've sworn I heard an old friend of your mothers say you moved to Texas."

Jensen quickly moved Harper behind him to protect her, "Don't you dare come any closer, you piece of shit. I know what you did to her."

"And I know what you did to her, Ackles. You left her. Last time I checked you didn't even care to give her a call anymore," Dennis continued to walk towards them, "But this isn't between me and you. I have some...unfinished business with the brat."

Harper peeked out from behind Jensen, stuttering her words, "Wait, I-I thought y-you were in jail?"

Dennis let out a deep, dark chuckle, "I was. But I got out early on good behavior. Been out for about a week and a half now."

Harper flinched at his words as he spoke, all the memories of him, her mother, and her. All the pain she felt. All the sleepless nights. The tears, the sadness, the fear of what was to come next.

She shuddered behind Jensen, but tried her hardest not to show fear. Jensen saw that she was trying to hide and knew if he didn't try to do something, Dennis might try to hurt her again.

Jensen and Harper exchanged a worried look as Dennis continued to talk.

"I was planning on visiting you and your mother when I got out, but I recently heard that she passed away. Car accident right?" Dennis asked.

"Sh-she was hit by a drunk driver, barely survived the ride to the ambulance. She's been gone for a little over a w-week," Harper replied.

Dennis gave her a fake pout as he rolled his eyes, "What a shame. I would've loved to see her again."

That sentence set Harper over the edge. All her fear and sadness ran out the door. Now she was furious. She knows his intentions, she's known for years now.

Harper stepped out from behind Jensen and got right in Dennis's face, "Even if she was alive, your drunk ass shouldn't be anywhere near her. She hated you-"

"She loved me, you brat!" Dennis screamed back at her.

"She was afraid of you, dickhead! Everyday she was afraid to come home, knowing what was going to happen. She knew that the minute she stepped into the house, she was going to get hurt. She knew when I stepped into the house I was going to get hurt. All she wanted to do was protect me. And when you went to jail and she filed the restraining order, we were finally rid of your lazy ass," Harper stated.

Dennis slapped a hand across her face, making Harper fall to the ground, "Don't you ever talk back to me, you bitch!"

"Hey!"

Dennis looked up at Jensen, "Oh and what's this? Did your Daddy come to fight your battles for you, Harper? Guess I'll have to show him all the fun that we used to have."

Harper watched as Dennis swung at Jensen, but Jensen dodged the punch. Dennis continued to throw punches and kicks at Jensen, but Dennis couldn't lay a finger on him. Jensen dodged every shot.

"Come on, Ackles. Be a man! Fight me!" Dennis yelled out.

"This is what you think being a man is, Dennis? Well I hate to break it to you, but you are dead wrong. I'm not going to hit you and I'm not going to hurt you," Jensen spoke softly.

"But I will," Harper yelled as she kicked Dennis in the side of the head. Dennis stumbled back, his hand on his head as he felt blood dripping.

"Why you little brat!" Dennis swung at Harper, but missed. Harper swung at him, and connected with his cheek. She then swiped his legs out from underneath him. Dennis fell down with a thud.

"There's something you don't know about me, Dennis," Harper said as she punched him in the eye, "After you went to jail," another punch to the lip, "Mom set me up with some kick boxing classes," one punch square in the nose, "And I was top of my class."

Harper pinned his arms down as she continued to punch Dennis in the face. Jensen stood back and watched, afraid if he stepped in she'd punch him by mistake.

Harper stood up after a minute and brushed herself off, her knuckles red from punching Dennis. Dennis's face was covered in bruises and blood. Harper showed him what he did to her for years, and she was proud to not be afraid anymore.

Just then, Dennis swiped her legs out from under her and she fell to the ground. Dennis jump on top of her and reared his fist back and punched her in the eye. He reared back his other arm, ready to strike again.

Unfortunately for him, Jensen was not going to have him doing this to Harper again.

Jensen grabbed his arm and pulled Dennis off of Harper. Harper sat up and saw Jensen and Dennis fighting and wrestling on the ground.

First Jensen had Dennis pinned, holding his arms down to prevent any punches. Dennis then had the upper hand, holding Jensen down as he punched him.

But Jensen wasn't going to let Dennis win. Jensen gathered all the strength he had and pushed Dennis off of him. Jensen kicked him in the throat and watched Dennis fall to the ground, coughing up blood.

Both men had cuts on their faces, blood on their knuckles, and were definitely bruised. Jensen continued to have the upper hand though, pinning Dennis's arms behind his back.

"Let me go, you big shithead!" Dennis yelled at Jensen.

"Why? So you can hit my daughter again? I don't think so, asshole! You're dealing with me now!" Jensen yelled back at him.

Harper took the opportunity when Dennis was pinned and not focused on her to call 911. Jensen continued to pin Dennis to the ground. He wasn't going to let him go.

Harper walked up to Dennis and crouched down to his face, "I hope you enjoyed prison. 'Cause that's exactly where you're going back to."

Dennis wiggled his arms, trying to get them free, "You dumb ass little bitch, you have no idea who you are dealing with."

Harper looked up at Jensen and smiled, "Yeah, I think I do. I'm dealing with a man who bullied my mom and I for years. And I just happen to finally be able to stand up to him. It just so happens that Jensen here," she pointed at Jensen, "doesn't exactly like bullies. Or anyone messing with his family. He's very protective of me. You just happen to cross a line that you weren't ready to cross."

Dennis continued to wiggle and try to get his arms free of Jensen's grip. But Jensen wasn't easing up. He had Dennis down, and Jensen wasn't moving.

It wasn't long after that the cops showed up at the park and arrested Dennis once again. Jensen and Harper were escorted to an ambulance to get looked over.

After Harper was taken care of, one of the officers walked up to her and Jensen, "Mr. Ackles, is there anything you can tell us about what was going on? A statement perhaps?"

Jensen, who was currently being looked at by an EMT, shrugged at the cop, "My daughter and I were just sitting here having a conversation when that man walked up, recognized her from when he was dating her mother, and just started hitting her. I stepped in to make sure he didn't hurt her."

The officer looked at Harper, "Is that true, miss?"

Harper nodded, unable to speak.

The officer wrote something down, "Well, I'm glad you caught him. You see, Dennis escaped from prison about two weeks ago."

Jensen and Harper sat there wide eyed at the officer, shocked at his statement.

"He what?" Harper asked.

"Yes, he escaped and we've been looking for him since then. A few of our sources say he somehow got out of state, but I see now he was hiding in plain sight," the officer replied.

Jensen sighed, "But you're taking him back right?"

The officer nodded, "He'll be going to prison for the rest of his life. There's no chance of him getting out again. I can assure you that."

Harper and Jensen nodded a thanks to the officer as he walked away. Harper sat down next to Jensen in the back of the ambulance, laying a hand on his bandaged arm.

"I'm really sorry for all of this, Dad. I had no idea about Dennis. I thought he was gone for good. But I put you in danger. He could've killed you," Harper rambled on.

Jensen sighed, "Babygirl, you had no idea about any of this. It surprised both of us. Just be lucky it's a few bumps and bruises."

Harper sat up and hugged her dad, who grunted from the pain.

She pulled back, "Sorry! I'm sorry."

Jensen chuckled, "It's fine. I can take a little pain for a hug."

Harper and Jensen exchanged a hug. They stayed like that for a moment until the EMT came back and told Jensen just to take it easy for a few days. Jensen thanked him, and the EMTs left along with the cops.

Jensen thought for a moment before looking at Harper, "So you took kickboxing?"

Harper chuckled and nodded, "Mom thought I needed to learn to defend myself. What she didn't think was when I'm motivated enough, I can defend myself just fine."

Jensen laughed, "Just remind me to never get on your bad side. I don't want to end up like that."

Jensen and Harper walked back over to the bench and sat down. Harper picked up the notebook she was writing in earlier.

Jensen was curious, "I saw you writing something when I got here. If you don't my asking, what was it?"

Harper sighed and leaned back on the bench, closing her eyes, "I, um, I didn't speak at Mom's funeral. I really should've but I couldn't make myself do it. So I came here to try and find some inspiration to write a eulogy for her. I finally wrote everything I needed to say, I just feel bad that I didn't say anything that day."

Jensen smiled, "Well, if you want, we can go visit her grave. Maybe you can say it to her now."

Harper looked down at her notebook then back to Jensen, "I don't know. I think it's too late."

Jensen shook his head, "It's never too late. Harper, let's do it. I'd like to say a few things as well, if you'd let me."

She looked back at her notebook before standing up and grabbing her backpack, "You're right. Let's go."

She and Jensen jogged over to the street to hail a cab. Jensen held out his arm, yelling for a taxi. One stopped almost immediately, and they jumped in. Harper told the driver where to go and they were off.

------------------------------

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​ @chessurkait​ @adorable-minibot​ @desiredposion​ @idksupernatural​ @thevelvetseries​ @spnfamily-j2​ @let-me-luve-you @obsessedwithfandomsx @wecantgiggleitsafandom

@mangueweaschester @unicornmadness2444 @emery--nicole--morrison @starchildwild​ @deans-baby-momma​ @spnbaby-67

#spn #spn rpf #spn oc #supernatural #supernatural rpf #Jensen Ackles #jensen #jensen ackles x daughter #jensen x daughter #jared and jensen #jensen and danneel #danneel #danneel harris #danneel ackles #danneel x stepdaughter #jared #jared padalecki #jared x niece #jared and gen #jj ackles #zeppelin ackles #arrow ackles #oc

[takerfoxx]

When trying to write a big balloon of good feelings with the EXPRESS INTENTION of bursting it... how big is too big before it's just cruel?

A very good question, and it comes down to purpose, execution, and follow-through.

Now, given my history and reputation, those sorts of situations are something of my forte, and I’ve had a lot of experience and trial and error to work things out, so here’s how you get maximum impact out of your dark, cruel plot-twists.

First, ask yourself why are you doing this? Is it purely for shock value, or does it serve some greater purpose for the plot and characters? If it’s the second, then go ahead and skip to the next section. If it’s the first, then go ahead and put that idea back in the oven because it’s totally not ready yet.

Look, as a writer, I get the appeal of shock value. Shock value got Imperfect Metamorphosis on the map. Shock value is in my blood. But if all you have is that shock and nothing else, then it’s shock value for shock value’s sake, which is just shallow and useless. You want to shock and disturb, yes, but you also want your audience to keep going to find out what happens next! Dangle that emotional catharsis in front of them! Give them some measure of hope that this is leading somewhere satisfying! Even stories like Chinatown and The Mist, which ended with the protagonists losing in horrible ways despite all their efforts, still felt like they were saying something bigger about the human existence and didn’t feel like they were cheating the audience.

For example: Marisa’s death in IM. I’ll freely admit, the idea first occurred to me and became part of the plan for the shock value, a way to throw down the gauntlet and show that no one is safe. But since the idea came to me early in IM’s run, I had literal years to refine the idea, build towards it, and map out how the fallout would go down, so that by the time it came around, it had turned into an essential part of the plot, from which the rest of the story would lead.

See, here’s the thing you need to understand about dark plot twists: they follow the same rule as edgy humor that breaks societal taboo. And that is this: the twist is not the payoff; the twist is the set-up. Think of the difference of between a rookie “comedian” who thinks that saying shocking things that you’re not supposed to say constitutes as “funny” and those who are offended just don’t have a sense of humor, and a genuine master like George Carlin, who used edge subject matter and taboo breaking not as the punchline, but as the set-up to the bigger joke and thus earn the big laughs when he managed to land the punchline and say something bigger about the topic at hand. It’s a wire act without a net, something that is spectacular if you can pull it off and lead to something greater, but will end in disaster if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Now, let’s move onto the next part: execution. Here you have to be careful, because while it’s perfectly acceptable (and in fact encouraged) to break the rules and conventions of the story’s genre, you still have to ensure that it’s keeping with your story’s internal consistency and rules, and that it makes sense! You want such-and-such a character to betray their friends and turn bad guy? Okay, but it has to make sense and be consistent with their backstory and motivations. You want to pull the rug out from under the heroes and ruin everything they had been working toward? Okay, but it has to be consistent with the rules that you had set up.

I’ll give you a few examples. Now, Game of Thrones might be in the doghouse due the dumpsterfire of a final season, but there was a time when it was upheld as the gold standard of dark plot twists, with the two big examples being Ned Stark’s execution and the Red Wedding. The reason why those moments were so shocking and effective wasn’t because they came out of nowhere, but because they broke the conventional rules of storytelling. OF COURSE the main character would survive! They even gave him an out by having him sentence to the Wall where his bastard son was, where they would no doubt reunite and plan their next steps! Ned’s the hero, after all! Except no, this isn’t that kind of story, Joffrey is still a sociopathic narcissist, doing what sociopathic narcissists do.

And the Red Wedding? OF COURSE it would work! Walder Frey had accepted the compromise, and we’ve put a lot of time and investment in Rob and Cate and their retainers. Rob was practically the new main character, and the driving force against the Lannisters. What was more, he was winning, and he was going to keep winning, even with his one or two slip-ups...except no, he wasn’t, because he had been warned about Walder Frey’s easily bruised ego, he had broken his word, so there was going to be consequences when the Frey’s cut a deal with the Lannisters, so welcome to Medieval-style skullduggery!

Hell, you can have some real fun with this too! And if I may toot my own horn, let’s look at the most recent dark twist from IM: the return of the Shadow Youkai.

Now, I know what my reputation is, and what people expect from me. As such, I can use those expectations to play a sort of follow-the-cup game with the plot. Everyone knew that the Shadow Youkai wasn’t gone for good; the epilogue of Fires of the Sun pretty much showed that. But no one knew when she’d be back, and that let’s me play with expectations a bit.

So I put together a big beach trip, where Rin takes all of her friends, new and old, out into public. And since this is Rin’s story, everyone expects it to go wrong. She expects it to go wrong. Because things always go wrong for Rin!

Sure enough, here comes Hong Meiling and Koakuma, two people with reasons to ruin Rin’s life! Surely they’ll catch and bust her! In fact, it turns out that Koakuma is Elis’s cousin, so surely that would mean she would...except no, they have a short chat, Koakuma doesn’t expose them, and they all go their separate ways. Nothing happens.

Oh shit, here comes Reimu! Not only does she know Rin, she also knows everyone in Team Nineball, and has fought most of the other girls as well! This isn’t good, how will Rin wriggle out of this (no pun intended)...except she doesn’t need to. Reimu and Rin’s various friends walk right past each other over and over without noticing, she chitchats with Hong Meiling and Koakuma for a bit, and then she’s called away to the next chapter’s plot. Rin never even so much as realizes that Reimu was there. Nothing happens.

But wait! Flandre is still a problem, and Seija’s still loose out there! And there she is, taking advantage of Rin’s absence to trigger Flandre’s madness! Surely THIS is the big disaster that’ll...except no, Kogasa quickly gets Seija to piss off and Wriggle coaxes Flandre back to sleep. Nothing happens.

Wait, the beach party was...a success? Nothing bad happened? Everyone had fun and made friends like they were supposed to? And it ends with Rin actually saving a stranger’s life and getting praised for it? Which story was I reading again?

Oh hey, there’s Minoriko, someone who hasn’t been seen a long time, and she says that Hina successfully devoured the Shadow Youkai’s essence, so there’s nothing to worry about. Well, that’s a relief! Strange though that a little curse goddess could handle something of the Shadow Youkai’s caliber, seeing how Sariel already mentioned how unsafe it is to use anything other than the original sword to do so, and how Rhapsody of Subconscious Desire already established that the Shadow Youkai is capable of taking over a secondary host, provided that she had access to their subconscious, and-

Click.

Boom.

So if you’re going to do it, make sure you set up believable reasons why it would happen in advance, even if the audience doesn’t notice them at first. Otherwise, you get Vince Russo’s booking of late-90′s WCW, where everyone was switching allegiances on a dime left and right just for the sake of having a SHOCKING SWERVE! Remember: it’s a highwire act without a net. Know what you’re doing.

Also, for the love of God, if you’re going to have a bad guy do a really bad, shocking thing in one part of the story but later join the good guys later on, don’t just sweep said bad thing under the rug. If Cain the Bloodspiller butchers little Timmy in book one but becomes Cammy the Bloodsaver in book five, then don’t let little Timmy be forgotten. Make sure that there’s still consequences.

And finally, the follow-through. Justify this shocking twist. Have it mean something. Take your time to explore the consequences. Show how it affects the characters. Dig deep into their psyches and make it feel real. The reason people STILL talk about Aeris’s death in Final Fantasy 7 is that the gameplay itself was designed to make you feel her loss, both from the viewpoint of the characters and you, the player.

One of my favorite dark twists is Mami’s death in PMMM, because it follows all of these conditions and does so spectacularly. It sets up how dangerous fighting witches is and explains that someone could really die while doing it, while tricking us into not expecting that to happen by already showing us how Mami kicks ass and establishing her as a main character with a promise to form a lasting bond with Madoka right before pulling the trigger. And afterward, it takes the time to really dig into the consequences of her death, from Madoka’s depression to Sayaka’s increased recklessness to being the catalyst that brought Kyoko into the story in the first place. Everything that happens after does so as a result of that moment.

So yeah, by all means, do that shocking thing, but make sure you put in the work to both earn and justify it.

#writing advice #game of thrones #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm