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#you're gonna end up killing yourself thinking the world is only ever against you and everyone who disagrees w you is a bigot.

lostfracturess · 15 days

Text

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)

x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem.

I don't know how.

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now?

I knew this was right.

Right for her.

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him.

Sorry.

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense.

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered.

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care.

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied.

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.

This was my punishment.

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her.

How could I not?

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it?

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her.

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.

No, she didn't know I'd set it up.

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me.

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.

My blood roared in my ears.

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open.

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now.

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna.

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right.

In his twisted way, he was.

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course.

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel.

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair.

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five?

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak.

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many.

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.

I reached for the syringe and read the label.

Adrenaline.

Smart girl.

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror.

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it?

How much power this woman had over me.

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish.

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life.

Not until her.

Not until she changed me completely.

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her.

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.

Nothing.

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?

Because she does.

She deserves everything.

She is everything.

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized.

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything.

"Say something, Satoru."

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!"

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her. Gods, how I love her.

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was.

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Second-year lecture.

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.

But I knew it was wrong.

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence.

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open.

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares.

Another night of that shit.

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault.

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her.

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself.

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?

It was over.

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch.

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips.

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me.

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh?

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter?

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me.

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her.

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#symptoms and causes #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen #saturo gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo angst #gojo angst #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 2 years

Text

More | Bucky Barnes (Mob AU)

mob!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: You're the secretary to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country, and that's what he was supposed to stay—your boss. The heart often has other plans. Now, you're in a race against time to save the life of James Barnes, the mob boss who has become so much more.

A/N: Longer one today, just as angsty as I'm used to. I write better with the more angst I do and you can't tell me any different. As always, let me know if you have any requests or comments because I love you all! Keep those dreams alive 🤍

Warnings: mob!bucky, vioence, angst, fluff throughout (because I'm really trying here), secretary!reader, mentions of past abuse in relationship, protective bucky

Word Count: 13,122

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I have to make it. I have to.

"Come on, come on, come on," I breathe out, drumming my nails nervously against my steering wheel and peering around the car in front of me.

He's not answering his phone. I have to make it in time.

I take my lip between my teeth, the anxiety in my chest only rising as each second ticks by. Finally I swear under my breath and swerve around the car before me, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. A chorus of honks rises around me but I don't care. All I know is that he's going to die.

My boss is going to die if I don't make it.

You may be wondering to yourself, how did a meagerly-paid secretary end up breaking traffic laws and nearly crashing her boss's brand new Tesla just to get to him in time? Why would I even bother? Why would his life be in danger in the first place?

Well, to understand that, I'm going to have to take you back to where my life of crime began.

If my mother ever heard I had a life of crime, she'd kill me herself, so let's keep this one between us.

|||

2 Years Prior

"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have an appointment and Mr. Barnes is full for today," I repeat, quickly losing my ever-bearing patience with the brash business man before me.

His eyes dart around my desk and to the office of my boss, CEO James Barnes. I've only worked here for a few months and yet being his personal secretary is proving more difficult than I imagined.

"Look sweetheart, just let me through and I won't take but a few minutes of his time," the man pushes, not even sparing me a glance as he walks around my desk. I shoot to my feet and step in his way, not hearing the office door open behind me.

"You can either see yourself out, or I can have someone help you. Either way, sir, you're not seeing Mr. Barnes today." I assert, my heart pounding and blood boiling in indignation.

If there's one thing I've learned in my time working in Corporate America, it's that most rich and powerful men think they're so far above the rest of the world that they're entitled to open doors wherever they go. Thankfully, my boss is one of the better ones.

Definitely better than this tool in front of me. I almost scoff in disbelief when the man goes to step around me again.

"You don't scare me, sweetheart. I'm just gonna-"

I step directly in front of his path, my eyes flashing with anger.

"Either you leave right now, or I'll personally make sure you'll never get a time slot with my boss. And it's Ms. Y/L/N, not sweetheart" I grit out, standing my ground and leveling my glare at the man.

"Who do you think you-"

I feel the warmth of his presence before he even says a word.

"Do you feel a need for career-suicide, or are you just incompetent?" A dark, rough voice sounds behind me, cutting off the business man.

As my boss steps beside me, the heat of his presence washes over me and I don't even need to look over to know that his menacing face is on display. I can see it's impact in the business man's sudden desire to leave.

"Uh, I-I am so sorry sir. I'll be on my way."

As he scurries to the elevator, I feel my cheeks heat as I look over at James. His dark hair is cut short but is left long enough to be perfectly messy. His bright blue eyes are already piercing into my exhausted ones.

"Sorry for the commotion, sir. I'll try to handle them quicker next time," I start, but my nerves are lessened by the slightly impressed look upon James' features.

"I've never seen you get angry before," my boss notes, making more heat crawl up my neck.

"Yeah well, I used to let everyone use me as their doormat, but I don't let people walk all over me anymore." I respond with half of a laugh. He hums at that, his eyes trained on me.

I break the contact first, turning around suddenly to my desk to avoid the way his eyes seem to burn the air between us to nothing.

"Miss Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in my office?" He speaks again after a few agonizing moments of silence. My hands freeze and I slowly turn around to find his gaze inquisitive.

"Of course, boss" I reply, clasping my hands together to hide the way they tremble slightly. James Barnes is quite possibly the most terrifying person I've ever met, and yet the more time I spend in this job the less he scares me.

When follow his gesture to walk before him to his office, he slips his hand to the small of my back as I enter and I swear my skin sets on fire. I hurry away from his touch and into a chair as fast as I can. There's a slight hint of amusement upon his features as he settles back in his massive chair, eying me from across the desk.

"Is...is everything alright, sir?" I question after a minute of the thick silence. He sits straighter at this, leaning his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together.

"Do you have a criminal record, Miss Y/L/N?"

His question startles me so much that it takes me a moment to respond.

"I'm...sorry?" I question, not understanding where this is going.

"Anything at all," James continues as if I didn't say a word, "Petty theft, aggravated assault, murder-"

"Sir I definitely don't have a criminal record," I cut in, my heart beginning to increase in speed. James nods, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot.

"Good, that makes you unsuspecting," he states, only heightening my confusion, "In order for you to be of best use, not to mention safe, it's best if you know exactly what it is that I do."

I sit completely dumbstruck and left with no response at all. My mouth opens and closes as I search for words, but I can't seem to find any.

"You've got a backbone and you're an honest, hard worker. That, you've proven. And, against my better judgement," Barnes pauses, his gaze taking on a somewhat softer, almost vulnerable gaze, "I trust you, Y/N."

My heart leaps into my throat and something stirs within me when he says that...that word. Y/N. My name. He said my name for the first time since he hired me. I don't know why it has such an effect on me, but it does.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt "I trust you too."

I do? When did I make that decision? And why did I just say it out loud?

Something in my boss's face shifts at my words, but he masks it with his usual cool, calm demeanor. He sits again in silence for a moment, taking in me and my response before he nods.

"The business I run is more lucrative than what the surface shows. I need someone on my side on the surface level, an associate who can assist me in matters at this office."

"This office?" I repeat, my brows furrowing together as my heart begins to race again. What does he mean by lucrative? And why is there excitement bubbling in my gut?

What he says next would change my life forever.

"I'm the White Wolf, Y/N." my boss's low voice rumbles, his eyes bright and clear, "I'm the-"

"King of organized crime, ruler of the New York mob," I interrupt, my eyes wide and my entire being not comprehending what's happening. I should leave. I should quit this job and call the police and leave. I should be terrified. But there's something in those eyes...

What I say next would start that life of crime I mentioned earlier, and quite frankly I still don't fully understand where it came from within me.

"Sure," I simply say, and the shock that splays on James' face must mirror my own.

"Sure as in..." he trails off, waiting for me to elaborate and clarify what we both know I mean. I swallow down my nerves and go with the decision my entire head is screaming against but my entire gut yells louder for.

"I'm in," I say, this time with more confidence, "Like I said before, I trust you. And I get the feeling you'd kill me if I said no."

Humor traipses across his features as he sits back in his chair in surprise. He plays with the ring in his finger, nodding slightly to me.

"That went better than planned," he murmurs, and I don't know why but I feel like smiling. My entire body is buzzing and my head is swimming, but something deep inside of me is waking up.

I've been walked all over my entire life. That's just the way it's been. I didn't know the difference between being nice and being a doormat for people's convenience until I was well into my life. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something about James Barnes that I trust, there has been since the day I met him. I felt it pull deep in my soul and now, knowing what he does and who he is...

It's time I control my fate, time that I grab my destiny and force it into motion. It's time that I stop letting people walk all over me and be the person who has a voice and a say and...and power. I've heard of the White Wolf as long as he's been around. He may be ruthless but he is not cruel. He's always looked out for the city, taken the scum off the streets and done the things the politicians refuse to. I trust James. And something deep within me is shouting that this is right, that this my destiny, that this is the strings of fate pulling.

And I know when to listen.

"Welcome, Ms. Y/L/N," James announces, standing and keeping his gaze burning down on mine, "To the real business."

|||

Seven months later.

One night, about seven months after the conversation that absolutely changed my life, I'm working overtime in the office.

My hands are dug into my hair and my eyes droop closed. I release my hold on my hair to knock back the last of an energy drink, but the liquid has little effect. I desperately read through the computer screen, hoping to solve the legal entanglement before me.

James informed me when I came into work this morning that some over-righteous beat-cop was looking too much into the business we hide behind our Property Management company. I've been here all day long trying to figure out how to file all the necessary forms to make this disappear and seem a joke. That's taken longer than I expected, though, and at nearly midnight, James and I are still here working.

"God, this is awful," I groan, dropping my head to rest on my arms upon my desk, my forehead seeping in the cool of the wood. I hear my boss's office door open but don't even bother moving. Eventually, a soft laugh sounds that makes me drag my head up and look over to its origin.

"You look absolutely pitiful" James comments, his tired eyes dancing with a humor that seeps into my own features slowly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I sit up fully.

"Thanks, that's what I was going for," I quip sarcastically.

He coughs out a laugh that makes my chest tighten slightly and some of the exhaustion part. Over the months working for the White Wolf of crime, we've become...friends. Well, as close to friends as a mob boss and his secretary can get.

"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for too long, I don't even know how you can think straight," James mentions. I shake my head, blinking a few times before turning back to the computer screen.

"No, I've almost got this loophole figured out and we'll be golden if I can just-" I'm cut off abruptly by a strong, calloused hand gently gripping my chin and turning it up so I'm looking at James. My heart gallops suddenly and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my composure against the charge coursing through me.

"Y/N, take a break," he mumbles so soft that a shiver runs down my spine. We stay locked like that for a moment until I nod and pull myself out of his grip by standing.

"Alright" I murmur, breaking the tense, charged moment by pointing a finger at him.

"But if you bring out alcohol on the job, so help me James Barnes I'll turn you in to the police myself," I threaten emptily. He laughs genuinely this time, and it warms my spirit.

"Come on, doll. I've got an idea" he urges, walking out to the massive open save before my desk. I eye him warily and step to it, hoping that the sudden skittering and tripping of my heart at that nickname doesn't show. He's never called me anything but my name, before. Now, it's almost too easy to forget that I work for him.

"You might wanna take your heels off," he suggests, which only heightens my confusion. Nonetheless, I slip the footwear off and walk barefoot in my pant suit to my boss.

"Should I be concerned?" I ask, bringing another humored glint to those beautiful steel eyes.

"No," Barnes says simply, my eyes darting to his forearms as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up, "I've actually been meaning to do this for a while. You're working for me in a very dangerous business, and although your involvement is kept a secret, I want you to be able to defend yourself if anything goes wrong."

His words settle over me heavily as I shrug my close-tailored suit jacket off and lay it on my desk. This is actually a smart idea. I sure don't want to be helpless should the time come and, lets be honest, it inevitably will.

"Okay," I reply, walking warily in front of my boss who's practically made of muscle, "Teach me."

Something dark floods his eyes that he blinks away quickly before holding his hands up in a fighting position, gesturing for me to do so. I oblige, putting my fists up in the best way I can. He walks over to me, slowly taking a few steps around my body to inspect my stance.

"Not bad," Barnes announces before stepping close to my side and placing those large hands against my torso and turning it slightly, "There, like that you can use the power you have against someone who might have a lot more than you."

His touch muddles my mind and I can't help but feel that his burning hands linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps away and back in front of me. Even as he does, I instantly feel like I'm missing something without his warmth. It's been that way since I began working here, though. Every little touch here and there has gotten me irrevocably addicted to the feel of him.

I'm so startled by the thought that it almost shows on my face. That train of thinking is...is highly unprofessional.

"Now, punch me" he orders. I hesitate, but don't lower my fists.

That's also unprofessional, and yet look at us.

"Are you sure?" I ask, and he simply nods. I shrug, "Alright then."

I throw the best punch I've got, but he dodges it easily and grabs my fist in his hand. Before I know what's happening, his leg hooks around my vulnerable one that I stepped with and he throws the momentum of my punch back at me so that I crash to the ground. I know that if he'd done that little move fully my back would've slammed into the ground along with my skull. Instead, he follows me to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, breaking my fall and easing me to the ground as he hovers above me.

I know he means to say something, but words must die for him too when the all too small space between our bodies is realized. I can barely breathe and it's as if time itself has stopped. I watch his fingers flex on the floor by my head, almost as if he's going to reach out to me but chooses against it. All too soon, the moment is broken when James stands and extends a hand down to me. I take it and let him pull me up to standing, disappointment and relief mingling in my stomach.

"That move can save your life, especially against someone bigger than you." James says, a little bit more distantly than he was before.

I thank him quietly and watch him clear his throat and walk back to his office. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks back over at me.

"Y/N, I want you home in an hour tops." He orders. I nod, still slightly breathless.

"And if I stay longer?" I taunt, not even knowing where the words come from. He tilts his head at me, a challenging gaze taking over.

"Then I'll throw you over my shoulder and walk you out myself."

I almost think he means it from the mischief lingering in his gaze.

Sure enough, I go home an hour later.

|||

Five months later

It wasn't until about a year after I joined in on the mob business that I realized how well I was beginning to know James.

And how much more he was becoming to me.

"Y/N, can you get me-"

I cut off my boss by setting down two steaming coffee cups.

"Two triple espressos with low fat cream," I announce, before fishing the folder out from underneath my arm and setting it on the desk before him, "And the monthly finance report. The guys in finance weren't finished when I came by yesterday, so I made sure they had it done for this morning's meeting."

James stares up at me in shock for a moment. That shock is still lingering when he says, "And the meeting schedule?"

"Already in your computer, I emailed it to you last night. I also sent it out to everyone who's coming and made sure to tell Mr. Martinelli 10:30 instead of 11:00 so he arrives on time." I respond, clasping my hands before me and giving my boss a light smile.

"Oh," I exclaim, turning around suddenly and picking up the package I left by his door, "And this gift basket came with a heartfelt apology from Mr. Lankov. It did have an assortment of toffee-filled chocolates which I went ahead and removed for you."

Mr. Barnes reaches over and slides the basket I set down on his desk towards himself before looking up at me. He looks almost impressed, which is high praise enough.

"Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?" I ask when he just stares at me for another minute. I feel my entire body burning under his gaze and, as usual, the air is thick and palpable whenever we're in a room alone. His gaze hardens again into the cold, meticulous mob boss he is and he nods once

"That'll be all, thank you Ms. Y/L/N."

I nod and turn to walk out only to be stopped by his voice calling out to me again.

"Y/N?" James announces, making me turn to him again. I don't know what I expect him to say, but it certainly isn't what comes from him, "I think you are too close of a friend to be calling me James and Mr. Barnes by now."

My heart stutters, but I keep the emotion that surges from his words from splaying all across my face. He considers me a close friend, not just his secretary. When did it ever become more?

When did I ever convince myself it wasn't more.

"What would you like me to call you?" I ask, and the question seems all too formal. The corner of his lips tug up and the movement makes my stomach flip.

"Most of the people closest to me just call me Bucky," he informs, and a rush thrills my entire body as I nod and try to keep my smile small.

"If you need anything else let me know, Bucky." I reply, and something darkens in his gaze.

I'm frozen for another moment, his stare binding me to where I am. Phantom electricity skitters across my limbs and I realize how much I have to restrain myself from walking closer to him. It's almost as if he's the Earth and I'm the moon, caught in his gravity and unable to pull away, All at once I come to my senses and leave his office quicker than usual. I make sure the door is shut behind me before I press my back up against the cool surface.

My heart is pounding in my chest. That was too personal, that was all too personal and wildly unprofessional. Nothing that was said was but the way he looked at me, the way I melted in my spot at that gaze. It was all consuming, and I didn't think I could breathe in that room. He's a mob boss, my mob boss, and I'm his secretary. James...Bucky is naturally a brooding, intense sort of person so the way he looked at me wasn't unusual. The way my entire being reacted was.

And he's so much more than my boss, no matter how much I may try to ignore it.

As the day goes by, I try to rationalize it all. In the end, I know everything there is to know about him—what he likes and dislikes, his routines, his daily patterns. It's my job to, but he doesn't know that about me.

If he did he'd know that today is my...

I think that same thing over and over to comfort myself that everything is normal and okay, but it only just makes a part of me sink. It's almost as if the thought that I'm not more to him has the potential to break me.

You can only be broken by things that hold you.

I'm jarred from that thought when Bucky's voice sounds over my business phone speaker.

"Y/N, my office" He says simply, his voice holding that natural authority and sharp edge that it usually has.

I get up and am walking into his office moments later. Once I'm inside, I take notice that Bucky's hard at work on some document before him and doesn't even spare me a glance until the door clicks shut behind me. At this sound, he looks up and sets down his pen. He stands slowly and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. That small movement sends my entire body into a downward spiral.

"You tried to hide something from me, Y/N," Bucky rumbles, and my stomach hits the floor.

I did? What did I try to hide?

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure what-"

My word die out as he stalks around his desk and up to me. My entire body is trembling, but not from fear, when he stops before me and stares at me so deeply that I feel like he's taken my heart straight from my chest with his bare hands. I'm not so sure he hasn't.

"It was a valiant effort, really," he muses, and I still have no idea what he's talking about, "But even if I only know you half as well as you know me, there was no way you could've hidden it."

My brows are furrowed when he finally reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," My boss whispers, and the moment feels all too intimate as he hands me the envelope.

He knew it was my birthday. That thought sends a thrill through me that I wish I could forget. I look down at the envelope and back up at Bucky who stares at me with the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.

"You didn't have to..." I whisper, but he gives me a 'really' sort of look.

"You do everything for me, and I'm pretty sure my world would fall apart without you. Now open it."

That only makes my heart race harder and I can't keep away my smile as I open the envelope. Everything seems to fade away when I pull out what's inside. There's no card, just a single slip of paper. When I flip that paper over, I realize that I'm in love with him.

Because it's a round-trip ticket to Kinsale, Ireland. A place I mentioned only once months ago that I've always wanted to go to.

I look up at him, my eyes wide and already filling with tears that I refuse to let go.

"How did you know?" I breathe.

"You said it was one of your dreams to go, and it's hard to forget when you speak about something so passionately." Bucky's reply softer than I've ever heard him be.

I've seen him kill people, torture criminals, and threaten politicians. I've seen him command his mob and rule with certainty and ruthlessness. And yet here he is, giving me one of my dreams because I mentioned it once.

I love him. I know it then, and I don't think I'll ever escape it. I've loved before, but never has it felt like this. This is encompassing and devouring and scary. It's real and deep and world-shifting. How much in love I realize I am with him is the kind of love I never thought I'd get. And yet...

I know it's unprofessional, but I can't stop from stepping forward and getting on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck in a sudden hug. He freezes, and for a moment I wonder how long it's been since he's been hugged. Bucky gives in almost instantly and wraps his strong arms around my torso, tugging me closer to him. I decide in this moment that this is my favorite place to be. Kinsale might have been one of my dream places, but this, in his arms, has just as quickly topped the list.

All too quickly I realize the intimacy of this position and pull away, no matter how much it leaves me feeling cold and alone.

"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and taking a step back, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."

Bucky just stares at me with that all-encompassing gaze.

"Then they're all idiots," he murmurs, and my traitorous heart surges again.

This man is my boss. He's the most powerful person in this city and the last thing he'll do is care about someone as powerless as me. And yet...and yet, and yet, and yet. I can't stop.

|||

Eleven months later.

Eleven months later and I'm still just as totally screwed.

I can't stop the feelings that bubble through me, that take me over and encompass everything I am and hoped I could escape. I tried convincing myself he was nothing, tried to fall for someone else, anyone else, but I can't.

James Bucky Barnes is intoxicating in the most wonderful and awful way. And I can't quit him.

That's why I'm here at Angel's Fall, the bar every corporate associate and beat cop or detective in our slice of town finds themselves at after work. I haven't been in a while, not much liking the smell or taste of alcohol, but after spending nearly ten straight hours with Bucky that serve as a reminder that I'll never have him, I needed to take the edge off.

"Anything else I can get for you, babes?" The bartender asks as she takes a stop in front of me, giving me a friendly smile. I return the gesture and let out a long sigh, finishing out the last of my whiskey sour.

"Scotch, straight," I request, giving her a tired smile, "Thanks."

"Sure thing," she replies, instantly beginning to make my drink, "You seem like you've had a long day."

I scoff, running a hand through the hair that I freed from my low bun, "Long few months."

"That bad, huh? Well I'll keep these going till you say when, sweetie," she replies, sliding my drink to me. I give her another quiet thanks before she leaves to her job.

"Y/N? Y/N is that you?"

I furrow my brows, not putting the voice to a face. I turn towards the sound of the man to find him standing beside me. Once my eyes land on his features, my entire being runs cold. Instantly what little alcohol I had in my system sobers out and my blood freezes in my veins. It's as if I've been dunked in ice water and I find it hard to draw in breath.

"Ian. It's been ages" I comment, my voice thankfully not trembling like I expected it to be. Ian laughs before me, leaning on the bar and drinking me in with his eyes. I squirm under his gaze, which only serves to make me uncomfortable.

"Damn right," he comments, smirking at me lazily with that smile that wrecked my life nearly three years ago, "I've missed you, baby."

I bristle at the nickname, my heart flinching even if my body doesn't. I know he's probably missed me, I had to move to a new state to escape him the first time. I thought I'd done good, too. I'd gotten settled here for a while and then worked my way up to a job at Bucky's company. The past almost two years in Bucky's business have been so good for me that I almost forgot my life before it, the reason why I was so ready to take on the life of organized crime.

The reason stands before me, proof that our demons never die. They just hide away until we're vulnerable again.

"What are you doing in New York?" I ask, trying to make polite small talk and avoid the obvious elephant in the room.

The elephant being that the last time I saw him, I smashed a lamp over his head before I scrambled out of his apartment and to the nearest cab that whisked me far far away, leaving behind all of my belongings except for a wad of twenties and my cellphone.

"I got a transfer to a firm a few blocks from here not too long ago. God, you look great Y/N," Ian averts. He says my name again, almost as if he can't believe I'm standing before him. I nod, wringing my wrists and shoving my forgotten drink away from me.

"That's great, Ian." I keep it simple, knowing that if I talk too much I'll lose myself again. I spend my mental energy searching the thickening crowd of people for a way out. I even consider signaling the bartender that I need an escape.

I'm barred from my thoughts when his hand, a hand I'll never forget, skims over my arm. I jerk my attention back to him, ripping my arm away from him as fast as I can and taking a step back.

"Woah, calm down baby. No need to be so jumpy" Ian placates, that same easy, manipulative smile that would bring me crawling right back to him every time stretching across his features. It makes my blood turn to ice and my stomach roil.

"Do not touch me," I command, surprised at the strength in my tone. It's a strength I didn't have before I got this job, "You lost that right long ago."

Ian's shock is not easily hidden. He realizes in that instant that I'm not the same girl I was three years ago when he broke me and used me and ruled my emotions. I've grown and gotten stronger because someone saw the potential in me to handle power with ease, to be a part of something bigger and stronger than anything I'd been in before. It may shatter me to be around Bucky every day, but he still saved my life in ways he'll never know.

I used to see the world as good and evil, black and white. Now, after my work in the mafia, I know it's gray. There's evil in the good and good in the evil. No one is ever truly both, and sometimes the ones you think are the villains are truly the heroes.

"I-" Ian cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, his eyes incredulous upon me, "I'm sorry, when did you convince yourself of that lie?"

"What lie?" I grit out, and I almost slap myself for indulging him. I'm quickly unhinging, though, and I know that if I stay in this conversation much longer I'll break back into a remnant of who I was. I try to swallow my bile at the thought. I refuse to do that.

"The lie that you're strong. The lie that you can survive in your own, the lie that you'll be anything or anyone without me," Ian seethes, his words sickly sweet like unsuspecting poison. His words cut me so deep that I almost shatter right there as old wounds I thought had scarred over rip open. Instead, I remind myself of the strength and control I've garnered these last two years working for Bucky Barnes.

And then I slap my ex so hard across the face that my hand stings.

"I am not some helpless little girl that's still in love with you," I grit out, my tone sharper than I've ever heard it before, "You broke me once, you are not going to do it again."

His shocked eyes are so wide upon me that I almost don't register his hand raising to strike me back until my head whips hard to the side and pain explodes across my cheek. When I snap my gaze back to him, my eyes brimming with tears of rage and instability, I see him open his mouth to say something. His words don't make it out.

Not before the crowd of patrons splits and a hand closes around Ian's throat so fast and with such force that his back is slammed into the bar.

Oh, I must've forgotten to mention this before. The Angel's Fall is one of the bars the White Wolf owns.

And here the wolf is himself.

I'm so shocked by Bucky's sudden intrusion that I'm left speechless as his grip tightens on Ian's throat and he brings his face that's flooded with an icy rage close to Ian's clearly terrified one. No one lifts a finger to protest or stop my boss, because they all know who this place belongs to.

"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Bucky growls lowly, and Ian is smart enough to believe him as he nods quickly.

Something warm and bright twists in my chest at his words, even when I know any normal person would be screaming or calling the cops. I've never seen Bucky like this before, not about me at least. About his business, sure. But not me.

"When I let go, you're going to leave this bar and this city," my boss commands, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat."

Ian whimpers, a sound that I hadn't realized would bring me so much wicked joy, a sound that satisfies the thirst for vengeance that I hadn't even realized I held.

"Now, thank me for my mercy and apologize to Ms. Y/L/N," Bucky orders, his grip loosening enough on Ian's airways to let him gasp out the commanded words.

Once he does, Bucky lets him go. His hand isn't off of Ian's neck for two seconds before my ex-boyfriend is scurrying out of the bar. The noises resume as usual, everyone carrying on as if a man's life was not just threatened. Bucky turns his gaze, still filled with that icy rage, towards me and it softens in a way that melts me.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

I avoid the question completely, hoping he'll forget to inquire about it again.

"Thanks for that," I manage out, ignoring the burning of my now very tender cheek, "I honestly thought I had it under control but then I just had to go and slap him."

"That gives him no right to lay a hand on you," Bucky asserts, taking a step closer to me and running a gentle, calloused hand over my hurt cheek. The simple motion sends electricity surging through my entire body and I somehow feel empty when he clenches his jaw and drops his hand.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" Bucky asks again, not taking a step back.

My heart is pounding and my body is overrun with so many different emotions that I don't know what to focus on or how to stop it all. I may be looking directly into those steel blue eyes, but I'm miles and years away. Memories of Ian and a version of me I often try to forget flash through my mind and I can't stop them.

"Who said you could parade yourself around like a whore when you are mine?" Ian growls out, making me flinch back and wrap an arm around my torso.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

My head whips to the side with the force of his hand. The sting sets in with the silence for a few moments, suffocating me and drowning me in my own pain. Then I hear him sigh and walk up to me, his hands now gentle as he turns my face up to his.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to do that, can you forgive me?" His words are sweet and his eyes genuinely sad. I look up at him warily and almost pull away when that breathtaking smile tugs onto his lips.

"For me, baby? I promise I'll never lay a hand on you again. I don't deserve you"

"Okay" I whisper, letting him kiss my lips and then the cheek that he'd hit again and again and again and as long as I'd keep forgiving him.

I don't even realize I'm not at the bar anymore until there's a soft click of a door behind me and I register a warm, strong hand encasing my own as Bucky leads me into what looks to be an office in the back of the bar.

I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out. I haven't done that in...in a very long time.

He lets go of my hand only to capture my face in his surprisingly gentle hold. When my eyes meet his, everything seems to quiet in the blue of his irises. Still, my mind is aching to send me back to three years ago, to broken bottles and shattered hearts patched with false kisses and pretty words.

"You're safe," Bucky assures, his face softer than I've ever seen it, "You're safe and you're here. I don't know where you went just now but I need you to come back to me, okay?"

Bucky's soothing voice brings me back to reality and grounds me to the moment until all that's left is this room and him and me.

"That's it, there you go, doll. Stay right here with me," he breathes, making my heart flutter. We stand in silence like that for a few moments that stretch for eternity, with his thumbs running across my cheeks until the consciousness returns to my gaze.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bucky asks, taking a step back and pulling his hands from my face. I almost make a noise of protest at the loss of contact, but stop myself. Instead, I just shrug.

"It was nothing, really. Just an ex of mine who doesn't know boundaries," I respond, but I can tell that he doesn't buy a word of it.

Bucky takes a slow step towards me again. This time when I tilt my head up to keep his gaze, something tender and almost tangible crackles in the air between us, tugging and pulling and yanking us together. In the steel of his eyes is a dichotomy of emotions, ranging from a breaking softness to a stifled rage that I don't think is directed at me. It sends shivers racing down my spine.

"Y/N," he starts, and my knees almost turn weak at that one utterance, "I think you're not telling me because you know what I'll do. But I need you to understand something before you leave this room and we go back to our daily routine."

One of his hands hooks under my chin, and his thumb grazes ever so lightly over my lip and so swiftly that I almost think I imagined it.

"I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do. I will do anything if it means protecting you. Anything." He vows, that rage still lit in his eyes. But when I look closer, it seems to be fueled by something so much deeper, so much richer.

I don't know why the words slip past my lips but it does before my mind can stop them.

"Ian manipulated me for years," my voice is trembling and unsure and so unlike every other time I've spoken with him, "He'd use me as his punching bag and then cry on his knees for me. I was stupid then, I always came crawling back. It wasn't until this job that I learned to stand up for myself."

Bucky's entire body is as rigid as a board and I know that look in his eyes. It's the look that appears when he grows unhinged and closer to losing himself to the rage and carnal violence. His jaw clenches and he seems to compose himself.

"What do you want me to do to him?"

It's a simple question, but in his eyes I can see what Bucky wants to do. I can see it as clear as day and it sets my entire being on fire. I choke up, though, because as much as I want to open my mouth and ask for him to kill him, I can't seem to. He sees my hesitancy and nods, taking a step back from me and adjusting his suit.

"Just let me know, Y/N," Bucky states, sounding more professional again as he turns and heads towards his office door.

A sudden sense of urgency overtakes me and I dart forward, grabbing a gentle but insistent hold of his arm that makes Bucky freeze and turn back to me. His arm is in my grasp and I realize that I'm holding on to it for a sense of stability as I try to get the words out. I think he realizes it too because Bucky lets me hold his arm, his eyes boring into mine and that professionalism dropping for a moment. I open my mouth, but close it again, my entire being trembling as flashes of every horror I endured with Ian overtake me.

"I want him gone," I finally manage out, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Please,"

Bucky's eyes search my face for a moment before a certain softness overtakes his gaze. I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean, even if I can't say the words out loud. He pulls his arm from my grasp only to take a hold of my hand and bring it to his lips. My heart nearly explodes from my chest when he places a kiss to the top of my hand. My skin is ignited where his lips touched it and I almost can't think straight.

God, I'm so in love him. I love him so much it hurts.

"Done." Bucky vows, his eyes never leaving mine.

Ian's mutilated body turned up in an alleyway the next morning.

|||

Two weeks later

I don't know how everything could have gone so wrong only a few weeks later. It all just happened so fast.

"Yes sir, the catering should arrive about 7:00 pm...yes sir, thank you sir. See you then,"

Once the phone is hung up, I take the pen from behind my ear and check off the catering company from my list of gala preparations. In just a few days, the company is going to be holding its annual Employee and Beneficiary Gala. My last few days have been consumed with making sure it runs seamlessly.

"Excuse me, miss. I have a 3:15 with Mr. Barnes." A man's voice I don't recognize calls out to me.

I look up from my paper, smiling warm at the business man who stands before me. My smile falls slightly when I see that he doesn't seem all too happy at the moment, but I set it aside.

"Yes, Mr..." I pause, looking over at my computer screen and scanning for his name, "Stark?"

"That's me." Mr. Stark responds.

"Alright. I'll let Mr. Barnes know that you're here and you should be right in," I inform, giving the man a polite nod before calling Bucky. While I inform him that his appointment is here, I can't help the uneasiness in my chest at Mr. Stark's grave expression.

"You can go on in," I inform once I get off the phone, giving the man a quick smile before turning back to my work, my entire being crawling for some reason.

The meeting's normal for the first few minutes, but pretty quickly their voices begin to raise.

"You need to be careful, Barnes! Pierce and his men are looking for any in to attack our organization."

Alexander Pierce, that's the boss of Bucky's largest rival—Hydra.

"Trust me, Stark. I am careful and perfectly capable of taking care of my business." Bucky grits back. I lift my hands off my keyboard, my attention slipping to listening to the words.

"No, you're not, you're being reckless. You're getting too close and you know it! She is a weakness!" Stark practically shouts. I hear a sudden screech of chair legs on the floor and a brief silence.

Whatever is said next is too hushed for me to hear, but I'm able to catch the last few words.

"I'll take care of it. You know I will," Bucky says, and the office door opens.

"I know you will, buddy. I just needed to get you there," Stark replies, shaking Bucky's hand before turning and walking past my desk without so much of a glance.

"Have a nice day to you too," I whisper beneath my breath.

"Ms. Y/L/N, my office" Bucky says abruptly from his office. His tone seems...almost cold, unfeeling. And he called me Ms. Y/L/N.

With furrowed brows, I get up and make my way into his office, closing the door behind me per his request. I settle down in one of the chairs before his massive desk, an inexplicable worry washing over me. Nonetheless, I ignore the feeling and carry on as normal. Thinking this to be one of the many previous briefings we've had on the gala, I begin to give him my report.

"The catering company is all set for Saturday as is the decorating committee and half-orchestra. All that's left is to-"

"I'm letting you go." Bucky interrupts suddenly, his voice so nonchalant and his gaze so flippantly down on the papers before him that I almost don't register his words.

As in...he's...firing me?

"I'm...sorry?" I question, to which his jaw clenches tightly.

"You are formerly fired, Ms. Y/L/N. Effective immediately," Bucky clarifies, and it feels as though the floor's been ripped out from underneath me.

I can barely breathe let alone hear over the sudden roaring in my ears. He's firing me, after all this time?

"Bucky, I don't-"

"Sir," he interrupts, finally snapping his gaze up to mine. His tone and glare are so ferocious that I almost think he'll pull a gun on me anytime soon.

That one simple correction makes my heart shatter. He hasn't been 'sir' in I don't even know how long. And the way he's looking at me right now...it's almost like he couldn't loathe anyone more in the moment. Like he doesn't even know me. Like he didn't just kill a man for me.

Like he didn't let me fall in love with him.

Tears burn my eyes as I steel my face and straighten up in the chair, clenching my hands so hard together in my lap that they turn white.

"Sir," the word is bitter on my tongue and I feel sick to my stomach more so than I ever have, "May I ask why?"

"Your work is sloppy and your intentions with my business, both legal and not, are undecipherable. I have decided that the best intention for me and my business is to part ways irrevocably with you, Ms. Y/L/N."

It takes everything within me to not let my mouth drop open in shock. The hurt that flashes through me is so piercing and raw and real that it arrests my chest. I can't...I don't know what I did wrong.

"You're just going to let me walk away," I breathe, my jaw clenched tightly, "With everything I know about you and your mob. You've killed people for less."

His cold, calculating eyes study me for a minute before he leans back in his chair, his features the picture of nonchalance.

"You won't tell anyone. You and I both know I wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone you love and then you." Bucky informs blatantly.

That's when my heart splinters. Because I can see in his eyes that he means every single word. Emotion blocks my throat as I simply stare back at him, no longer working to hide my shock or pain. I nod once and I stand, smoothing out my silk blouse.

"I've lost everyone I love, you're out of luck there."

The lie burns so strongly on my tongue that it nearly makes me physically sick. I say it to make it true, to trick my mind and heart into believing it. I should hate him. I should loathe him with every fiber of my being. But I just...can't.

With tears that I refuse to let fall swimming in my eyes, I stare down at the man who changed my life, who stole my heart and is now breaking it.

"Whatever it is that you've been relentlessly pursuing these past years, whether it's power or money or blood," I whisper, not daring to bring my voice above it for fear that it will shake, "I hope you find it."

Bucky's gaze bores into mine, something unreadable that's nearly akin to conflict flashing through his eyes. Without a word, I turn and leave, stopping only at my desk to grab my things before leaving. Leaving this office, leaving the mob, leaving him.

And as I drive home with silent tears streaking down my cheeks, I can't ignore the gaping, pain-filled hole in my heart. I hadn't realized how much I needed that business, that man. But I have to move on. I have to.

And yet, I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to be able to.

|||

A few days later

It's the day of the gala, and it's all I can do to keep myself composed.

I've been an emotional wreck the last few days, and as much as I've tried to deny it I can't any longer. I'm in love with Barnes, I have been for a while and as bad as I want it to, it's not just going to go away. Losing the job was like losing Bucky, and I hadn't realized how much I leaned on him until he was ripped away.

"Oh come on, you stupid computer," I grumble, shoving my laptop aside as it launches into an update I didn't ask for.

When I woke up today, I decided it was time I start looking for another job. No matter how much it hurts, I have to move on if I have any chance of continuing on with my life. I was job searching when this piece of junk laptop started to reboot.

My attention is glued to my television and the show I have playing while I wait for my laptop to finish the update. I get so engrossed in the show that I almost miss it when the screen goes bright and it turns back on.

"Finally," I breathe, pulling it back to me and typing in my password.

As soon as it opens to my desktop, my laptop begins to pop up a bunch of random windows from my most used apps, just like it usually does whenever it's powered down and back up suddenly. I close them out with mild irritation, but freeze when my spreadsheet window opens up, displaying the spreadsheet I was working on last.

The guest list for the gala.

My heart stutters. I'd done so good all of today avoiding thoughts of the event only for my stupid laptop to bring it to the forefront of my mind. My heart wrenches as I can't stop myself from scrolling briefly through the list of invited guests. Near the end, I notice my name and stifle the sudden rise of emotions that inundate me.

With hasty, almost frantic fingers, I rush to delete my name from the sheet. Before I can erase my name, my eyes catch on four names at the bottom below mine. Strange. My name was the last one added. I know because I edited and set up this spreadsheet and only added myself when I had double and triple checked that everyone had been added.

Maybe Bucky found four more to invite. I try to accept the thought, but my curiosity takes the better of me and I can't stop myself from pulling up the internet on another window and searching up the first of the four names.

Xavier Taft. 34 years old, works for a bouncer service...wait. Criminal record.

My heart stutters again. With events like this, we're always so careful to keep the criminals down to only our own, and I've never seen this man's name in our regiment before. With furrowed brows, I search up the next one.

Lance Salone. Bouncer. Criminal record.

My heart is racing when I search the third.

Amanda Vice. No criminal record.

I frown, my adrenaline seizing a little bit. Maybe I was too hasty, maybe those two were just-

Oh my God.

My entire body freezes when I notice an article underneath Amanda Vice's search. She's a personal assistant, like me. But she works for Pierce Enterprises, the cover business for-

"Hydra," I whisper beneath my breath, feeling as though someone's taken the world and spun it around me.

With trembling fingers, I navigate back to the spreadsheet and look to the fourth name. I don't even need to search it up to know.

Alexander Pierce.

My heart is in my throat as I fly my cursor up to the top of my spreadsheet and check to see the editing history. My eyes scan the hundreds of entries by me until they rest in the last entry, one done by an email I don't recognize.

One I never gave permission to edit the document.

"They hacked it," I piece together aloud. Nothing seems real as I throw my laptop off of me and shoot to my feet, the world still spinning. The two bouncers, obvious muscle with the clear ability to kill.

I know I should hate Bucky, I know that I shouldn't give a damn what will go down tonight at the gala, but I can't stop myself from reaching for my phone and dialing the number I saved to my phone of the weapons dealer Bucky's mob used. The man I spoke with on Bucky's behalf many a times picks up on the third ring.

"Y/N. I haven't heard your voice in so long, how are you?" the dealer, a man by the name Nick Fury, asks.

"Nick, this is going to sound so random but I need to know if there's been any movement from Pierce or his men in the last week or so," I rush out. There's a beat of silence on the other end before Nick speaks again.

"What's this about? I thought Bucky fired you," he points out skeptically. My desperation is taking the better of me and I nearly snap.

"Damn it, Nick I just need to know! Has Hydra done anything unusual lately that you know about? If anyone would know it would be you," I practically beg. He must hear the urgency in my tone because he doesn't question me again.

"I caught word they were hanging around upstate earlier this week, they're not usually over there," Nick announces. I furrow my brows.

"Where upstate?"

"Some place called The Sky Palace. Heard they were there for a good bit of time snooping around before they got booted out," Nick answers, pausing for a moment, "Y/N, what's going on?"

I can barely breathe, let alone work up a response. The phone nearly slips from my limp fingers.

"Y/N, are you-"

"That's where the gala is tonight" I whisper, an aching, yawning sort of sensation ripping in my chest at the sudden realization that slams into me.

They're going to kill him. They're going to kill Bucky Barnes and they're going to make a move on our mob.

"I have to go," I rush out, my voice trembling and my stomach roiling with nausea, "Thank you, Nick"

"Of course."

I end the call, rushing to grab my purse and throw on the first pair of shoes I can find. As I rush out of my apartment and into the streets of New York as the sun sets low behind the buildings, I no longer think about the betrayal or hurt. I don't ruminate that I'm fired or that Bucky doesn't care for me like I do him. All I can think about is that my family isn't safe tonight, and I have to do everything in my power to protect them. All of them.

As I whistle for a taxi, my phone is already pressed to my ear and ringing as it tries by I reach my ex-boss. The call goes unanswered as I sit inside the cab.

"Where to?" The driver asks.

I almost say the venue, but pause. I set up Bucky's schedule for today, he should still be at his mansion upstate getting ready. He always did like to make grand entrances. Even if I'm wrong, it's only a ten minute drive to the venue. I give the driver Bucky's address and dial his number again as the driver speeds off.

"You've reached the voicemail box of-"

"Oh come on!" I groan out, pulling my phone away and ending the call. My heart is racing so fast that I can practically feel it trying to run out of my chest. I feel utterly powerless right now knowing that Bucky could die and I can help. What if I don't make it in time? What if he's already gone?

Tears blur my vision and sudden heart ache seizes my chest at the thought. I shove it all down and keep myself composed as I try his number again, but to no avail. Thankfully, we're pulling up to his mansion now. I pay the driver and rush out, putting in the gate code and sprinting to his front door. I don't even waste time knocking, knowing he's probably in the garage or his room, and dig up the spare key from its hiding spot to let myself in.

"Bucky!" I shout as soon as I'm in, slamming the door behind me.

There's no response.

"Bucky please! Are you here?" I shout again, but the silence rings in my ears.

One quick check of his room shows he's not here and when I sprint into the garage, I see one of his twenty cars missing.

I missed him. He's already gone.

I curse, checking my phone to see that he's running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, something he never does. Of all days to be more punctual to his own event, tonight was probably the worst. I hesitate for only a moment as I ponder what to do.

"You'll forgive me later," I mutter to myself before I spin on my heels and jog to the key rack by the door. I swipe the first set I find and press the button only to find his brand new, cherry red Tesla lighting up.

If things weren't so dire, I'd squeal in excitement.

I don't waste time with giddiness, though, and sprint to the car. I'm inside and have the engine running in record time. Not one minute later, I'm peeling out of the garage and onto the road with screeching tires. I press the gas pedal nearly all the way to the floor, the engine roaring in my ears as I whip into the traffic.

I have to make it. I have to.

|||

And here we are, all caught up.

I hope you understand now more than you did before why I'm so desperate to get to Bucky in time. I hadn't realized it fully in the moment before, but now that I just might lose him, I know that he's everything to me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am without him and his constant assurance that I was strong and skilled and perfectly able to stand up for myself.

I can't lose him, not when he's so much more than a boss to me. So much more.

I cut the ten minute drive to the gala down to four. My headlights cut thought the pitch black night as I swerve up to The Sky Palace that's teeming with cars and richly dressed guests. The Tesla screeches as I grind to a halt before a group of gasping patrons and a wide-eyed valet.

His eyes grow wider when he sees me step out of it in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

"Don't scratch this car if you want to live," I advise as I toss the young valet the keys. He must think I'm joking because his gaze flashes with humor.

He doesn't realize I'm being dead serious.

I don't care a modicum about the horrified, disgusted looks I'm getting from the elite who are still making their way to the Palace's entrance nor do I care about their cries as I break into a sprint and shove past them all.

I can't let him die, I can't let Pierce hurt my family. I can't.

I only stop running when I reach the two men guarding the front entrance with iPads to check in guests. I know them both, since both happen to be members of Bucky's mob. Their eyebrows furrow once they see me approaching them.

"Y/N?" One asks, his eyes nearly popping from his head, "Boss won't like it that you're here."

"Let me in, Sam," I order, my chest heaving with breath, "He's in danger, you're all in danger."

The two men's eyes widen and they share a look for a moment before glancing back to me.

"Y/N," the other begins, but the panic is getting too much and I cut him off.

"Listen, you're all in trouble. The business is in danger of being thrown into chaos, and your boss-" my voice cuts off with sudden emotion, tears swimming in my gaze, "Your boss is going to die if you don't let me in right now."

They only hesitate a moment longer before they step aside. Relief like I've never known it crashes through me. Just before I walk in, though, Sam catches my arm.

"I don't know what the hell's going on, but we're already falling apart without you. We...he needs you, Y/N," Sam whispers.

My heart tugs painfully in my chest and that same hole opens again. I miss them all, I miss the mob and the meetings where we'd all mess around like kids. I miss Bucky.

And with that last thought, I give Sam a nod before turning and jogging into the Palace.

Classical music wafts into the air, broken up only by soft chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The gala is classy and elegant and beautifully well-done, but I don't take time to admire any of that. Instead, I race through the room in search of Bucky.

I receive more than one disgusted glare and scoff at my apparel and messy, unkempt hair. I don't give one damn as I try to blend in as much as possible to not alert Pierce or his men while searching for Bucky.

I stop when I reach the grand staircase that leads to an upper balcony, taking the advantage of the steps and climbing a few to see the room from a birds eye view. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Bucky near the center of the room. My heart squeezes in my chest and I almost sob in relief to see him alive and safe. Just before I move to rush down the stairs and towards him, I hear a click from the top of the stair case.

I whip my gaze up in time to see one of the two bouncers from the list, Xavier Taft, begin setting up a sniper rifle atop the dimly lit balcony that no one but him stands atop.

My heart stops. Time freezes. My stomach hits the floor and all I can think about is that I can't lose him.

"No," I breathe, snapping my gaze down to see the gun trained on Bucky.

When I look at him, I see Sam at his side and speaking in rushed tones, probably about me. Knowing I don't have many options left, my mind works in overdrive to figure out the best way possible to do this. I need to cause a distraction, one to catch Xavier's attention long enough for me to finish climbing the stairs and get that gun away from him. At the same time, though, I need Bucky to see it happen, I need him to know his life is in danger so Lance Salone, the other bouncer, doesn't surprise attack him.

Bucky's just snapped his head towards Sam, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight when I make my move, my nerves humming.

"BUCKY LOOK OUT!" I shout, my voice piercing and carrying out over the room. Instantly, Bucky's head snaps up to where I am on the stairs and his entire body goes rigid.

I don't waste time watching him any longer and begin to sprint up the last of the stairs and towards Xavier who curses. He wasn't ready to shoot yet, I timed it perfectly. Beneath me, Bucky sees the gun trained at him and he sees Xavier, who now has his gaze on me. Bucky's entire body changes again into a mode of desperation, but I don't see it. I'm focused on closing the distance between me and the gun that's almost ready.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, but I'm barely listening over the chaos in my brain.

"Bitch!" Xavier growls, cocking the rifle hastily and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He's too late, because I finish bounding up the stairs and crash into him, knocking him off of his feet and shoving the gun off balance enough so that the bullet he intended for Bucky slams into the roof instead.

Xavier's body slams into the marble tile as I tackle him, but he quickly overpowers me, flipping us over so I'm beneath him. Below us, I can hear screaming and glass shattering, but above the panic I swear I can hear a voice bellowing my name.

I scramble out from underneath Xavier before he can pin me, shooting to my feet and sprinting to the sniper rifle still sitting on the balcony. Just as I hear Xavier get up behind me, I knock the rifle over and send it careening down into the panicking crowd.

"I'll kill you for that!" I hear Xavier spit from behind me, and I whirl just in time to see him throwing a fist at me.

Time suddenly slows, and it's like I'm back in the office that day ages ago where Bucky tried to teach me self-defense. My body remembers the way he grounded me from my punch before my mind does, and I snap back to reality just in time to dodge Xavier's punch. Just like Bucky did to me then, I hook my leg around his and use his momentum to shove him to ground. I crash down on top of him and practically feel the slam of his head into the marble below him.

"Y/N!"

My entire body jumps at Bucky's voice, now close to me. I snap my head around to see him bounding up the stairs, blood splattered across his tuxedo as if he killed a man himself down there during the chaos. I almost sob in relief. He's okay. I melt beneath his gaze that bores down into me as he stoops down to reach out to me.

His hand is inches from me when his eyes snap up to something behind me and horror flashes through his face a millisecond before a hand wraps around my waist and wrenches me to my feet and away from Xavier's unconscious body. I gasp, and the world suddenly goes very still and very quiet as the cool of a gun presses underneath my chin, forcing it up slightly. My stomach hits the floor and I hardly find it in me to breathe.

Bucky stands ever so slowly in front of me, his jaw clenched and his eyes spelling murder.

"Leave her alone, Pierce," Bucky orders, and sudden fear clamps over me.

Alexander Pierce has me at gun point.

"Why? I'm actually quite taken with your girl," Pierce responds, tightening his hold on my waist. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the disgust and fear rolling through me before looking back at Bucky. He catches my slight movement and his fury heightens.

"Pierce, I swear to God if you kill her I will skin you alive," Bucky growls.

"See, now we're getting somewhere," Alexander announces, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This isn't what he wanted to happen, "What are you willing to give for her life?"

Immediate tears spring to my eyes and I meet Bucky's gaze again.

"No," I beg immediately, not daring to shake my head because of the gun beneath it, "Let me die. I'd rather die."

Bucky works hard to keep the cold exterior upon his face, but I can see between the cracks that he's...he's terrified.

It's only when Alexander moves his arm that restrains me to cover my mouth that I realize my slim window of opportunity. Without thinking, I slam my free hands into the gun that Pierce holds to the underside of my chin hard enough that it knocks his hand away. His hold loosens in sudden shock and I rip away at the same moment that Bucky darts forward and grabs ahold of me, ripping me to him and immediately crushing me into his side for protection as he rips out his own guns and shoots before Pierce can even recover.

The bullet finds its target perfectly, right between his eyes, and it's over.

My entire body is trembling so violently that I cling to Bucky, scared that my knees will give way from the adrenaline. I've never been in a situation like that before, never been so close to death. Bucky drops the gun from his hold and switches his full attention to me, probably realizing just how pale I've turned and how badly I'm shaking.

Keeping one arm secured around my waist, he runs the other through my hair, his steel blue eyes taking in every feature of mine.

"You saved my life," Bucky murmurs, his hold on me so tight in the most protective sort of way, almost as if he's just as terrified as me, "Even after I fired and threatened you."

I shake my head, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.

"I couldn't let you die."

Bucky's jaw clenches and before he can react I throw my hands around his neck, hugging him close to me. He reacts instantly, wrapping both massive arms around my waist and pulling me close to him, holding me tighter than I ever have been.

"Don't ever do that again, doll," Bucky mumbles into my hair, clenching my hoodie in his fists, "Don't be willing to die for me. I don't deserve it."

I don't know why tears are gathering in my eyes but I find I can't blink them away. I only tighten my grip, nuzzling my head into his neck.

"I don't think I can promise that," I breathe, and my next words come out before I can even stop them, "You'll always be deserving."

Bucky pulls away so fast that my heart lurches into my throat. His eyes examine mine so frantically, so dangerously, so desperately as he holds me out from him. His chest is heaving, almost as bad as mine.

"I did it to protect you, you have to know that. Everything that happened before, it was all to keep them away from you," Bucky swears, and my heart stutters at the look in his eyes, as if the police and ambulance sirens filling the air alongside the shouting don't exist.

"Why?" I breathe, hoping on everything he'll say what I think he will. Bucky brings a hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head at me with something almost close to tears in his eyes.

"You're my only weakness, Y/N, and they know it. Everyone knows it," Bucky murmurs and I swear I stop breathing, "If it came to you or the world I'd pick you every time."

My chest is so tightly constricted that I can hardly draw in any breaths. My chest is moving just as fast as his and butterflies are pressing into my stomach in anticipation for whatever is thick in the air between us.

"Don't ever fire me again," I order, and a low chuckle leaves his lips. My humor drains in a second though, and suddenly it's hard to speak without my voice trembling, "I don't think I'll survive it."

Something breaks in his gaze, softens it and turns it so tender and passionate that my skin tingles. He brings his other hand to cup my face to, so I feel completely under his control.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks carefully, his eyes searching mine, "This life will never slow down. Someone will always want to take you from me."

"I'm sure," I whisper, not even hesitating.

His lips are on mine before the words are even fully out of my mouth. My heart leaps out of my chest as I melt into him, pulling him closer as our lips move in perfect harmony. My entire body feels like liquid and lightning all at once and he's the only thing left in the world. One of his hands finds their way into my hair, leaving me completely at his mercy. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a breath of a kiss on my nose and then my forehead before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

"You've been more to me for a long time now, doll" Bucky breathes, and a shiver rushes down my spine. He's so beautiful. A smile twitches onto my lips as I caress his stubble-covered cheek.

"I think how I feel is pretty obvious, considering I did tackle a fully grown man for you," I remark, and a surprised laugh rumbles out of him. The sound nearly turns me weak.

"And it was probably the scariest and hottest thing you've ever done," Bucky assures. This time I laugh and kiss him again, but we're both more serious after it.

"This life may not be safe," he begins, his thumb running over my lip, "But you always will be. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe."

"I love you, Bucky" I whisper, my words a promise. He freezes, something new and bright flashing through his gaze. I don't think he's ever heard those words before.

"I've always loved you, and I always will," he swears, and for a moment my life is completely and totally content.

It doesn't matter what's happening around us, it doesn't even matter that I nearly died a few times in one day. With Bucky by my side, I feel invincible, I feel strong and capable.

"I don't think I can be your secretary any more," I whisper, and his smile is back, turning my insides to butterflies.

"No, I've got a better idea," he smirks, kissing me quickly.

The next day, Bucky would introduce me to the mob as his equal partner.

The King and Queen of crime.

And it would stay like that for the rest of our time.

I don't know when exactly Bucky Barnes became more than my boss, maybe it was always. Maybe I should have known I was in trouble from the beginning, but it's the best kind of trouble. So, if you ever get the chance to do something a little crazy, maybe something you never thought you would, but it just feels right, then you need to do it.

You never know who will become more to you in the process.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #angst #oneshot #au #bucky oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky oneshot #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia au #mafia bucky #mafia!bucky #fluff #avengers #bucky barnes angst

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thewalkingthread · 2 months

Text

you're losing me - R.G.

part 2

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: officer friendly gets too friendly with a certain blonde haired woman

warning: cheater!rick, swearing, kinda sad, established relationship, not a happy ending

a/n: idk man, hope you like it

word count: 1,991

"It's already dead, ya know? Don't have to keep stabbing it." Daryl grunted as he dropped his plate of food on the table, sitting in the empty spot of the wooden picnic table next to you.

You glanced down at your food, multiple holes littered the piece of meat from you stabbing it with your fork. You sighed, dropping the fork on the plate and rubbing your clammy hands on your jeans.

Your eyes landed back on the two people a few yards away. They've been laughing and talking for the past 20 minutes. Not a care in the world. You couldn't hear what they were saying, the chatter and noise of the picnic party drowning out their conversation. It didn't matter though, seeing their interactions told you enough. Some people would say they looked quite good together. Except, the only problem is, the man was your boyfriend.

"He ain't gonna do nothing with er." Daryl's eyes followed yours. You roll your eyes, your hands tightening in a fist.

It's been 5 months since the group arrived to Alexandria and you had a bad feeling about Jessie the moment you saw her.

The first day you arrived, you and Rick took a much needed shower together. While you opted to unpack the little stuff you guys had, Rick was downstairs getting a haircut from Jessie.

You walked into the kitchen, surprised that you had a guest. You were even more surprised to find Rick shirtless, sitting in a chair while this woman runs her hand through his hair.

"Wouldn't be too sure." You muttered back, forcing yourself to look down at your plate.

Daryl grunts beside you, giving you a nudge. "Rick's done a lot of stupid shit, but I don't think he's dumb enough to fuck things up with you. If he does, it's his loss, anyway."

Daryl's words are supposed to be comforting, but it does the exact opposite. Was it a possibility that Rick would betray you like that?

You glanced back up at the two again. Jessie threw her head back in laughter as her hand lands on his chest, slapping him playfully. Ever since Rick killed her husband, the two of them have been awfully close.

Everyone has noticed. You don't miss the passing glances and sorry looks on peoples faces whenever they pass you. You know what they're thinking. You'd be thinking the same thing if you were in their shoes.

Something changed the night Rick killed Pete. Not just for Alexandria but for the two of you as well.

It didn't happen all at once. It was gradual. Rick was slowly pulling away, he probably didn't even realize it. But you did. You remember every time he'd come home later than promised. You remember every time he told you one thing and then ended up changing his story later. You remember every time he'd slip out of bed in the middle of the night and sneak back in an hour or so later.

You weren't sure if Rick was cheating on you with Jessie, but you were pretty confident that your relationship was going downhill. It wasn't a matter of if you would break up, it was, when.

"Y'know," You turn your head towards Daryl as he interrupts your thoughts once again. "You could always just tell er to fuck off." He shrugs, bringing the chicken leg up to his mouth.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as Jessie's hand grazed Rick's bicep. You huff, standing from the picnic table.

"Atta girl," Daryl slaps the table with his hand as you toss your plate into the trash on the walk towards Rick and Jessie.

Jessie's attention turns to you as you approach the two. Rick smiles at you, holding his arm out for you. You smile, sliding into his body, naturally melting against him.

"Hey, darlin." He mumbles, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Hi," You sigh. "Is it okay if I steal my boyfriend?" You give Jessie a tight lipped smile, tugging on Rick to follow you before she could even respond.

Rick chuckled lightly as you both walked away. "Everything alright, darlin?" He asked.

You shake your head. "Can't say I enjoy other women fondling my boyfriend." You grumble.

Rick stops you both in place. His hands settle at your shoulders as he holds you still to look at him. "She was not fondling me." He rolls his eyes slightly.

"Whatever you say, Rick. Everyone can see the way you two act. Have me out here looking like a damn fool." You roll your eyes.

"How many times are we gonna have to talk about this?" His eyes glared down at you.

"Well, how long are you going to keep flirting back and forth with her?" You scoff.

Rick's jaw clenches tightly as he stares at you. This wasn't the first argument you've had about this topic. You've definitely brought up your distaste to Rick about his lady friend.

"You're being insecure and ridiculous." Rick drops his hands. "If you don't trust me, just say it."

Your eyes widened at his choice of words. You gulped the saliva that built in your mouth. "Fine," You throw your hands up before locking eyes with him. "I don't trust you. Until you can prove to me that I can, I don't want anything to do with you. Feel free to go back to your little friend." You shoot him a glare.

"Fine!" He glares right back. Your jaw clenches as he steps back from you, not really expecting him to respond that way.

"Fine," The word came out as a whisper to yourself as you watched him walk back towards Jessie who was now talking with Maggie and Carol.

You willed yourself to turn around, heading straight towards your shared house. You slam the door shut, locking it behind you before pacing the living room a few times.

There's been several times when your relationship with Rick has been rocky. There have been times where things were said out of anger and the heat of the moment. There's been times when you questioned the future of your relationship.

But it was never like this. Never this... definite.

You spend the next several hours deep cleaning the entire house, doing anything to try to get your mind off of Rick. You hadn't realized how late it was till Carl strolled in with Judith.

"Hey, Y/N!" He nods his head. "What's for dinner?" He looks around the spotless kitchen, noticing there's no food set out.

"Oh shit-" You mumble, looking at the time on the clock. "I'll throw something together..." You pull open the fridge, getting ingredients for a simple pasta dish.

"Hey, uh-" You glance at Carl. "Have you seen your dad anywhere?" You ask, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Carls shakes his head with a shrug, putting Judith on the ground to play. "Not since the picnic. Why? Is everything okay?"

Nope. Not at all.

You force a smile on your face and nod. "Yeah, everything's fine. He just hasn't come home since then. Sure he'll be home soon for dinner."

He wasn't home for dinner.

He wasn't home to say goodnight to the kids.

You let out a deep sigh looking at the clock one more time.

It was almost 9:30 now and he still hadn't come back.

You weren't eager to see him but you knew you both had things to talk about. In defeat, you grabbed a jacket and pulled on your shoes.

You checked on Judith one more time before slipping out of the house to find Rick. You checked the gate first, thinking he'd taken an extra shift on watch just to avoid coming home. When he wasn't there you checked each post on the perimeter, coming up empty.

Eventually you just wandered the streets aimlessly.

You stopped in front of Jessie's house. The lights were all off. Surely he wasn't in there, right? Your eyes landed on the open garage, light spilling from it.

Jessie was probably up working on some art, it wouldn't be the first time. You contemplate going up and asking her if she'd seen Rick recently, but something about doing that just felt so pathetic.

You mustered up the last bits of pride you had left and made your way up the driveway. You were immediately stopped in your tracks when you catch sight of Jessie.

And Rick.

Kissing.

Jessie's arms were slung around Rick's neck while his were gripping either side of her hips. Gripping.

Your entire world shatters at the sight.

The gasp that leaves your mouth was automatic and sharp.

Rick pulls away first at the sound. Even if he didn't know it was you, he knew he was caught.

His eyes go from panic to regret the second they lock onto yours.

"Y-Y/N," He lets go of Jessie, taking two steps towards you.

You stumble back, your eyes moving between the two. Jessie is staring at you with wide eyes, unsure what to do. Rick kept taking steps towards you, matching the steps you took back.

You shook your head, turning away from them and sprinting the opposite direction. You didn't stop sprinting till his calls for you faded to nothing.

There wasn't many places you could run to while confined in the walls, but you couldn't be near him right now. You couldn't go home. You just needed to be alone.

You stopped at the windmill, sneaking to the back and sliding against the wall to the ground. The moment you stopped to catch your breathe, you let the tears fall from your eyes.

Even with how bad things with Rick have been, you didn't think he'd ever betray you like this. The thought of him cheating on you crossed your mind once but you convinced yourself that he was a good man and he would never hurt you like that.

You were wrong.

You wanted to slam your head against the wall. Anything to distract your from the pain in your chest.

The sound of his boots thumping against the dirt met your ears. You didn't take your face out of your hands when you heard them stop only a few feet away from you. You didn't bother looking up even when you could feel him there. You could feel his eyes burning into the top of your head.

"I'm sorry," He said simply.

You almost wanted to laugh.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry."

You drop your hands, looking at his dirty boots in front of you. He crouches down in front of you, hoping to get your attention.

"I just want to know why," Your tired eyes land on his. Rick's mouth opens to speak before he shuts it again, trying to muster up an answer.

Rick sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know." He admitted.

"How long?" You raised an eyebrow at him, doing your best to stop your voice from cracking, but the quiver was there.

"That was the first time. I swear." His hands grab onto yours and it feels like fire on your skin. You yank your hands away, causing him to flinch. "I swear on my life, baby-"

"Don't." You spit out, "You don't get to call me that ever again." You pick yourself off the ground. "I really hope she's worth it, Rick. I hope she's worth losing us over." You sniffle the last of the snot in your nose, stepping to the side to escape Rick.

You were a few strides away when his voice broke through the air.

"It felt like I was losing you... I didn't know wha-"

I didn't know what to do.

Your eyes rolled so badly, they could've fell right out of your head. You spin around to face him once more. His face hidden in the shadows, only half of his face lit by the street lantern.

"Didn't know cheating was a valid reaction to that." You scoff, "Congratulations. You've officially lost me." You call out before walking away from Rick.

#the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #the walking dead one shot #twd #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n

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arelluv · 2 months

Text

Billy Loomis x Reader (smut)

MINORS DNI.

! No protection, knife, stalking ! ( 18 + )

(A:N this is my first time writing smut yall, i hope yall enjoy 😭🤍)

It was a friday night, your father was out of town for business. Your mother passed away, the year before so you were all alone. You just finished your homework, it was already stressful enough that you were alone, depressed, and suddenly hearing about murders going on. The Tv was on, you were seeing that there was someone killing teenage girls and guys. They don't know who's done this but it is someone who definitely lives around YOUR area.

Most of the people who were killed, were people you knew (just acquaintances). You were just in your head thinking about who could it possibly be doing this. No one in your school seemed suspicious enough to do this, no one really had such visible hatred toward one another.

Another hour had passed, it has started raining. You were bored, out of your mind. You read your book and tried to distract yourself from whatever you could possibly think of. Suddenly you heard your phone ringing. You knew no one would ever call you during this time, especially at night. You thought it probably was your dad. You pick up.

"Hello?", you asked with an uncertain tone.

"Hello Y/N" , an unknown voiced announced itself.

"Who's this?", you started to worry, especially with seeing the news earlier... this didn't help.

this unknown person asked, laughing abit, "Do you..have a partner Y/N?"

"Why would you want to know?" you asked with a tone of rudeness.

"Because I just want to know. Answer me.", he stated, starting to seem impatient.

Being the smartass that you are, you said, "First off, you haven't answered my first question. Who are YOU? And if you answer, I'll answer your question."

"Fine, I'm ghostface. You've probably heard about me on Tv. Now answer my question." he said with certainty.

"You're...him.", you started breathing heavily, "And yes, I have a boyfriend. Why are you interested in knowing about that?"

"I'll ask you one last thing," he said dodging your question, "is his name Billy?", he asked, sounding like he put on a grin.

"How do you know about him?!" you asked in shocked, this ghostface person knows you. He's the one killing the classmates you knew. Is he after you next?

You hear no one at the other end. Wondering what's happening. You lock your windows. Close your curtains. You immediately go downstairs and lock every door that could possibly be accessed from the outside. But you heard a knock..

You go back running to your room, turning off the lights. Forgetting that the phone is still on. You grab your phone, and hold it up to your ear.

"Why'd you lock the doors? You scared I'm gonna come in and gut you like a fish? Hm?" he asked, laughing.

You started to fear him, what could you have possibly done to this person? What did he have against you and why was he so interested in knowing if you were with billy? "Please I don't have anything you need or want! Why are you doing this to me?", you started to tear up and your throat was starting to hurt.

"You are what I need, Y/N.", ghostface started grinning like a freak, he asked, "Do you really love this boyfriend of yours?". He sounded more genuine asking this question like your answer really meant something to him.

"Yes, I love him. I'd do anything for Billy. I'll never give myself up to you even if it meant that you'd kill me", you knew you were screwed answering him like this, but you really meant it. Billy was your whole world and the only person to look after you and understand you. He cured your depression after your mother passed away, he was always doing the most for you. Your father turned into an alcoholic after your mother passed, so you had no one but Billy. him.

"Oh really? Mmh-" he asked but he was grunting. You heard some other noise but couldn't make anything else out if it.

But oh he was going insane. The fact that you would do anything for him, made him go crazy. He was so turned on that he couldn't hold back. He started to stroke his cock, slowly up and down. Hearing the wet sounds, thinking of you giving him a wet blowjob right there with such a hot fucking face. He would never hurt you, he just felt such a thrill hearing you scared and hopeless.

"Open your door now. Or else." he said, still outside of your house. He pulled his cock back in, not finished with himself. He started feeling frustrated.

"No, my boyfriend will come right now! You better be gone by then. I'm never going to let you in!!" you yelled, you knew you couldn't contact Billy right now. But you had to lie so you can get out of this situation.

"Oh yeah? We'll see about that." he suddenly hung up.

You were scared knowing that you'll possibly die in matter of seconds or minutes. You grabbed anything in your room that could help with self defense and you grabbed your phone to call 911 but before you could.. you heard a knock on your window. You could see a familiar shadow behind your light curtains. You were sure it was Billy, you took a very small peak. It was him!

You opened the window very quick. Gasping and breathing heavily with anxiety and fear you said, "Billy! Why would you do that?!"

"Do what?" he asked seeming "surprised", "what happened, are you okay??"

"I'm not okay, this fucking killer from TV called me. He apparently knows about us, and I think he's stalking me!? He's right outside the house, threatening to come in.. " you were talking fast from fear, "and then YOU came knocking on my window and -"

Billy interrupted, "Take a deep breath, no one was outside Y/N. You'll be okay, I'm right here.", he gave you a hug and you could feel the wetness of his shirt since it was raining. He looked so hot in that white shirt, it was see through so you could see his toned abs and vline.

He departed from you, and looked at you, up and down. Looking amused. You thought he didn't seem too shocked about the news you told him, and nor did he seem to have any fear in his eyes..

You then look at his hands, a knife? You looked at him with shock. You were so scared of ghostface you didn't pay any attention to Billy's knife. (but you sure payed attention to those abs 🤨)

You slowly started walking back, almost tripping. You couldn't believe it, was ghostface him? Was he ghostface? The person that meant the most to you? How could it possibly, out of ANYONE, be him? "Y/N it's not what it seems... i promise.", Billy was trying to reassure you, as he was walking towards you.

You ran to your door and tried to unlock it but before you could, Billy grabbed your waist. He held his hand to your mouth before you could make any noise. "Don't scream, or else.", he knew he couldn't nor would he hurt you but he had to make sure you wouldn't scream. He then threw you on your bed, he got on top of you.

Still keeping his hand on your mouth, he was dragging his knife along your soft shirt then going underneath and touching your delicate belly. "Yes, it's me. I was the one calling you. But trust, I'd NEVER hurt you. Okay?"

His face reached your neck, his lips softly grazing your neck. You could feel a grin on his lips, "If I let go of my hand from your mouth, and you don't scream, I'll explain everything." You nodded, you had no option, you were seeing this completely different side of your boyfriend. Everything was a shock to you. He let go of his hand, and you asked huffing, "Wh-why? Why did you ki-kill those people??"

"After my mother passed, before I met you. Everyone at that godforsaken school, would laugh at me. Talking shit, saying my mother wasn't good for my father, that's why "he had a new whore on his cock each week. And she was an old hag who was a good for nothing". So they said. Even my old "friends" joined in, in their fuckery So I got revenge."

You never knew this, no wonder he really felt for you, when your mother died. He felt the same way and he did what he would've wanted someone to do to him.

"I killed Sydney's mother, the whore. Then the whore's daughter. Then I thought, why not kill all of those fuckers who talked shit about me and my mother? So I came up with Ghostface and I went on a killingspree." he had no shame in saying any of this, matter of fact he sounded happy. He then added, "But I'd never hurt you, I swear. I'd let anyone kill me before they could kill you."

"I-I can't do this Billy.." you didn't know what to say, everything was so sudden and you were in shock physically and mentally. "I know you were in pain but you shouldn't have killed anyone Billy", you held his face with your hand. You didn't want to press any buttons that you shouldn't press. "What are you trying to say Y/N? You don't want to be with me anymore? Is that what you're trynna say? ", Billy started asking aggressively. He held back the urge to be agressive, he would never want to treat you harshly. He just didn't want to lose you over "something" like this.

"That's not what I'm saying Billy, I just don't know what to do with everything you told me..", you still were in shock. You didn't know what to say or even feel. Billy started kissing your neck, trying to make you forget about everything that had happened. "Mmh, Billy... you know what you're doing", you weren't stupid enough to know he'd do this whenever he slipped up. He'd always give you kisses or even gifts to make you forget about an argument.

You tried moving to get out of this position you were in, but Billy was stronger than you. "No, Y/N. You're not leaving me easily like this. What happened about earlier?", he smiled like a freak, whilst pinning you down. "What do you mean "earlier" ?" forgetting about what you said during the call.

"You'd do anything for me Y/N, you said it yourself. Even if it meant for someone else to kill you. Now lets keep that promise right now, yeah?", he put his knife near your shirt, cutting it. Then grazing the knife along your breasts.

Licking his lips, he neared himself to your breasts, a bit above he started kissing your chest. You moaned, trying to feel guilty that you knew he was a murderer. But you couldn't help it, his eyes, his lips. So soft and wet. You wanted him there and then. "May I?", Billy asked with lust filled eyes.

"Yes, Billy...", you couldn't help but moan. He immediately started licking your chest, sucking the soft spots. Hitting the right sensitive spots, never missing. Leaving small trails of hickeys. You couldn't help but roll your eyes back, the feeling he gave you... the anticipation. The small kisses, the sensitivity you felt yet it was slow but it satisfied you so much. You grabbed his hair, tugging it abit. "Oh Billy..", he was so good at this, you knew you needed him in you. He let go of his knife and grabbed your arms.

"You're such a slut for me, you're so eager for this cock. Hm?", he said as he moaned. As he moved himself to your stomach, leaving small trails of kisses. So delicate but so satisfying. "I'm anything for you Billy", you said, not regretting anything you said. Even though you wanted to resist him, you couldn't. Your body yearned for him in every way possible. "Lay there and feel me, that's all I want you to do. Can you do that babe?" he looked at you for reassurance, while holding himself back.

"Go in Billy, I want all of you.." you moaned, you couldn't even look at him without feeling turned on. He went on kissing you more below, and he finally reached your pussy. His eyes darkened at the fact that he'll taste you and your juices. He took off your pajama shorts, and he saw your panties soaked. So fucking wet with arousal, he took your soaked panties off. Finally seeing the prize. Your wet soaked throbbing pussy, so puffy needing something to satisfy it. He immediately dived in with his mouth, going in. Hitting all your sensitive spots, swirling in and out. He started licking your throbbing clit, licking your little tip. Sucking it gently, knowing it was so sensitive. He really craved your pussy, even just eating you out wasn't enough.

He went on sucking, still hitting your spots with his tongue. You arched your back, moaning so loud you couldn't even think right. You needed something more, you CRAVED him in you. He needed more from you, his cock was throbbing. So much precum was coming out.

"God Y/N you taste amazing", he grunted, he needed more. "Fuck", he moaned, "Tasting you isn't enough, I need to be in you.", he pulled out his cock. He started rubbing his cock near your wet throbbing pussy, your pussy ached for his cock. He knew he was teasing you, he softly went in. Letting you take in his big hard cock. "Oh fuck Billy!", you've never felt this euphoric, so thoughtless, just feeling him.

"Take it in babe, you can do it.", he said he moaned. Sliding his cock in fully, feeling your warmth. God it was intense for him too, just the feeling of you wrapped around his cock..he was thoughtless. He was just going with feeling. He went in and out of you in a rhythmic way, he felt so overwhelmed with your pussy. You were so tight. Gripping him. Both of you couldn't think a thought, just fully going with instinct.

After hitting every sensitive spot in you, he couldn't hold it. He felt it coming. He went in and out, loosing rhythm. Feeling your throbbing pussy clench. You couldn't help but arch your back, he was so good at this. It was leaving you dumb, all you could do is only think about his cock. Matter of fact, that's all you felt.

"I'm cumming, Y/N", he moaned, head going back and rolling his eyes. He could feel you cumming, your pussy clenching around his cock and he suddenly felt your juices surrounding his hard cock. This made him even thrust more into you, the wetness of your cum and the warmth of your tight pussy. It was all too overwhelming for him. "God, Y/N...I ca-can't hold back", he said as he moaned loudly. He thrusted faster, the sounds filled the entire room. He could feel his cock throb, he immediately pulled out. He came on your soft stomach, so much cum. You smiled at him still huffing from the sex you had. "I love you Y/N..", he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"I love you too, Billy..", you pecked his lips. Billy asked, "Would you like some water?", he was one for the aftercare.

He really is something else.

(You're delulu girl 😜)

(A:N : sorry this is short 😭 thank you for reading. Pls leave some recommendations of other characters i should write abt! Ty)

#ghostface #billy loomis #scream #slashers #slasher smut #billy loomis smut #ghostface smut

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mayfieldss · 11 months

Text

Not who we were - Marc Spector

Pairing: Marc Spector x Significant other!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, murder, blood, and a plot that doesn't make sense as it was written at 1am.

Summary: When you find out who Marc really is, he hopes you'll still love him despite it all.

"I've made some mistakes, no, I'm not gonna lie, I've seen the world fall apart right in front of my eyes. I'm a victim of myself in disguise" - Em Beihold

"This is gonna be hard to explain." Marc's hands, white-gloved within his suit, hold yours as he helps you to your feet.

"Marc?" Your voice comes uneven before you're tearing your hands from his, eyes wider than Marc had yet to ever see them.

"Yeah, it's me." It comes as a sigh, his suit falling away to reveal the man you know. "I know this looks crazy, and sure, I don't think there's anything else to call it, but you gotta trust that I didn't have a choice."

There's more than one dead body surrounding you, and with his words, you can't find yourself to be calm. You'd watched him kill each and every one, and you had nothing close to an idea why, and somehow that makes it worse.

"They're...all dead." There's a shake to your voice, and you take multiple involuntary steps backward, wishing only to get away from the scene and perhaps wake up from the nightmare at hand.

"I know, but—"

"You killed them." You can't let him speak. You don't want to hear an excuse for all you've witnessed, and yet Marc tries to finish his sentence still.

"Look, you know me. You know I wouldn't do this without reason. I've got a job to do here, and I'm not proud of it—" he continues though you don't hear the rest. It's too hard to process, and it's most definitely not the time to explain such things in depth, with the blood from strangers that lie before you seeping into your shoes. But he talks and he talks, Egyptian gods and the possible deaths of many others weighing against the man you love had he not complete this mission he's on. How he never intended you to get caught up in the mess he's made.

But you don't understand it, and you only hear the key points, or at least some of them. The rest you find yourself blocking out in favour of a small panic attack.

"Honey, look, I know it's a lot, but we gotta go, like now." Marc's got a hand on the small of your back, the other on your shoulder as he leads you away to what he would claim to be safety, and you don't know when he got this close to you.

"Marc, please don't touch me." Separating from him is hard, but you push him back, making your own way through the streets, though you don't know where you're headed. "I don't know what's going on, and your bullshit explanation has done nothing to plead your case, but I need to be as far from you as possible right now."

"I agree, you do, but I need you not to hate me first." Marc's right on your heels as you move, and somehow you find yourself still following his directions when he ushers you this way and that. When you reach a secluded ally you pause, turning back to face the man you thought you once knew.

"How long? How long have you been doing this?"

The look in Marc's eyes says enough, yet he answers you anyway. "Way before I met you." He sounds sad, down further than you've ever seen him as he continues. "When we met, I wanted to stop. And I tried, but there were some things I've had to wrap up, loose ends that I need to tie. But I wanted to get out, I did." Marc seems to pause, as if he can hear someone else, something else other than the quiet of the ally. His face contorts in what seems to be anger for no longer than a second, before his eyes are back on you, the soft and devastated expression taking over again.

"I thought I had you figured out." You can hear the disbelief in your voice, the sound of it enough to break a piece of Marc away. He's tough, and he's been through more than one person can bear, yet he finds this might be one of the worst feelings he's yet to encounter. He watches your eyes, scanning them for some sign of the love you'd once held for him and he finds it there, though he sees it fading.

"How can I ever believe a word you say?"

"I never lied, not outside of this, everything about us was real." He's sincere, and he hasn't felt this vulnerable in years, yet Marc can feel you slipping away. "Everything I kept from you was to keep you safe. I needed to keep you safe." He takes a step forward, placing his hands on your shoulders. They're bare and cold, the night air reaching out to your skin.

Marc had been through this before, and his methods had always been based around pushing people away, but there was something about you that made things different. And when Khonshu told him to let you go, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Now he might be losing you just like the god had wanted, though this time it's not under Marc's control.

"Please, I need you to trust me. I know how it looks, and I know how hard this will make things for us, for you, but I need you to trust me."

Your eyes are glassy, and you're looking right through him as if you don't know him at all. Yet you nod, the action pulling the weight from Marc's chest for now. He slides a hand down your arm, slipping his hand into your own as he leads you back through the streets to the place you'd once called home with him.

You're silent the whole way, and Marc doesn't make any attempts to force words from you. Instead, he walks with the silence, as if it's an old friend of yours and an enemy of his. The front door is old, the paint peeling and the doorknob creaking as Marc leads you inside, and somehow that's the first time he's noticed the deteriorating state of the place. It hadn't mattered before, when the structure of his relationship with you had been so strong, he didn't need anything else.

"Do you want some water? coffee?" He's acting like Steven, he thinks, but he's sure he's still in control here. He knows he is.

"I just need to sleep." You sound tired, and he believes you, watching as you shuffle to the bedroom, eyes blank as you move. He doesn't follow, setting up a bed on the couch for the night. He knows you well enough to expect you need space, and right now he's willing to give it. Had this just been a regular fight, Marc would have tucked himself into bed with you no matter your protests and pulled you in for a hug until you forgave him, at least for the night. He knows it's not right to do that now.

The couch isn't comfortable, but he doubts you're getting much better sleep than he is. Not after all you'd seen that day. He tries to drift off and an hour or three passes before he finds that he actually can. He has no dreams, no nightmares, and the peace is a relief. When he wakes the next morning it all comes back, a tidal wave of shame and concern overtaking him as he recalls the way you'd looked at him, spoken to him. You were a skeleton of the person he once held dear.

He moves quickly about the apartment when he wakes, making coffee as quietly as he can, and moving to the room he's supposed to share with you, peeking inside. It's dark, and the curtains are still drawn despite the late hour, but Marc sees it. His eyes find the empty bed, the broken lamp on the floor, fallen from the bedside table. The picture frame that holds Marc's favourite photo, you and him, together now seen through broken glass. It wasn't done by you, and at the sight of your shoes still beside the bed, he knows it's all wrong.

Marc had never cursed quite like he did then, the anger that harbours itself deep within him curling out into the open. He shouts to Khonshu, to Steven, and to whoever will listen as he wonders where you are, rushing out the door before any kind of protest or plan can be made. He knows what's happened, though he doesn't know how he slept through it, and he knows it's his fault.

You were seen with him last night, and he'd shown just how much he cared for you. That was the perfect advertisement for leverage. But by some form of luck, It's not hard to find you, or your kidnappers, and whilst Marc is seeing red beyond that of proper thought, he is capable of locking his eyes with yours, a silent communication, and a promise.

There's a knife to your throat, held by one man, and a gun pointed to your head by another, and Marc knows the killers just don't understand. Because what comes next is a violent, fast-paced frenzy. You don't know how he does it, but the second the knife falls from your throat, you're ducking down for cover and hoping that a gunshot won't ring out by your second captor. But it all goes by so fast, and when you do hear a bullet fire, you don't feel it pierce your skin. Your eyes lock on the shooter, ears ringing from the sound as you watch bullet after bullet fired at the man you love. You do still love Marc, despite it all, and perhaps that's why the scream that leaves you is so devastatingly loud.

Marc thinks you're hurt the second he hears it, heart-stopping for mere moments before he's finishing off the gunman and racing to your side with not a scratch in sight. Your eyes are wide and when he's within arms reach you're grasping at him, hands running over his armour as it falls away to reveal Marc himself, t-shirt and jeans in near the same condition as the day before.

"Hey, I need you to calm down for me." Marc's voice is steady, and you don't understand how he's still alive. "Are you hurt?"

Your brows furrow as you watch his features before your eyes drift back to his torso, where you swear the bullets hit him. "You were shot, like ten times."

His hands run over your arms, pushing you back from him so he can check you for wounds. "I had amour and a little help from someone more powerful than a pistol, you, however, did not. So, I need you to tell me, did they hurt you?"

All you can do is shake your head in response, eyes scanning his face with the worry that he holds for you all the same. You can't remember why you hated Marc before, and with all the violence that unfolded over the last 24 hours, you can't find yourself being bothered by it. So instead, you leap forward into him, a hug so tight that Marc gasps from the grip.

You find yourself crying, and the morning sunlight falls on the both of you, highlighting the tear stains that appear on Marc's shoulder. He's hardly holding it together himself, the touch enough to release all the tension in his bones. He squeezes you tight, your arms around his neck as he kneels on the harsh ground, enough to keep him steady.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

You don't respond, but you don't have to. He can feel you, and with every shaky breath you take, he knows he's forgiven. Somehow, somewhere deep inside you, you found it in yourself to do it. Forgive him for the lies, for the harm, and whilst the trust will take time to build back, he has your body clinging to his, your heartbeat in time with his own.

AN: i don't particularly like this fic, and it doesn't make much sense plotwise at all, but I haven't posted in so long, and it's all I have.

MARVEL TAGLIST: @mellowladyangel @5kyyy @avyannadawn

MOON KNIGHT TAGLIST: empty

MARC SPECTOR TAGLIST: empty

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everydayyoulovemeless · 11 months

Text

Arcade, Boone, and Raul As Yandere's

➼ Word Count » 0.5k ➼ Warnings » Manipulation, Mentions of Substance Abuse, Obsessive Behavior, General Yandere Themes ➼ Genre » Yandere, Whumpee/Whumper

Arcade isn't someone who would kill needlessly, instead, he'd try to slowly manipulate you into 'falling in love' with him with little things that'd influence you to see him as higher than others. It'd start off with snide comments about the people you surround yourself with, little pieces that might make you second guess who you've put your trust in. He'd also be condescending toward you. You're too dumb to wander the wasteland without him, so just let him make some of your decisions for you. Honestly, you should feel honored that he's even agreeing to help you out, there are plenty of others who require his assistance yet he's here with you. He's not above lying about you having a terminal illness to extort more control over you, although he is above infecting you with a sickness. The furthest he'd ever go would be making you addicted to a substance, whether that be drugs or alcohol.

"Oh, please, haven't you seen the way they talk? They'll ditch you the first chance they get and I'll be here when they do."

Boone is the most assertive out of the three and he's not subtle about how he feels, you'll immediately recognize when his obsession with you starts. He'll refuse to let you out of his sight and will try to scare you into compliance with threats of the Legion. He'll tell you his own detailed war stories just to shake you up. He also isn't gonna care about how you feel toward someone, if he sees them as a threat then he's gonna snipe them, even if it causes you to weep for days on end. You're his and therefore he'll decide what happens to you and who you hang out with. The sooner you understand that, the better.

"You leave and before you know it, the Legion'll grab you. You don't know them like I do, so if you want to live you'll listen."

Raul is very calm and very aware of how unhealthy his feelings are, although, he tries to justify them in his mind. As the old world disappears, so do old world norms, in that sense, maybe what he's feeling isn't so unhealthy considering your surroundings? It's all just a matter of perspective. He only does what he does for your benefit, it’s only natural to feel the way he does in a world so skewed. He won't try and convince you to think anything different, he'd more or less just stick around and ensure you don't get into trouble. Outwardly he'd more or less just seem like an overprotective dad but when your back is turned he's threatening people like there's no tomorrow. Just simple 'reminders' on what he'll do if they try something against you. You'd have to squint to see the change in personality, though, he's so careful about what shows and what doesn't.

“I dunno, boss, the guy was here then he wasn't. Come on now, what could I have done to make him feel threatened?”

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beansandsprouts · 9 months

Note

Au of dean reciprocating cas' confession

This is not an au this is actually what happened you guys are just misremembering obviously.

Reciprocation

Dean Winchester x Castiel

Summary: What actually happened when Cas confessed his love to Dean

Warnings: I mean it's the confession scene so it's a little angsty

"And she's gonna kill you, and then she's gonna kill me."

Dean and Cas exchange a look, the situation seemed hopeless.

"I'm sorry." There was a pain in Dean's voice, regret.

"Wait, there is...there's one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her. When Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him."

"You what?"

"The price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, The Empty would be summoned, and it would take me forever." Cas explained.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Cas could hear the suspicion and rising anxiety in Dean's voice. Cas started to tear up.

"I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want...It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know...I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it."

"What are you talking about man?" Dean felt his stomach drop. He felt like he knew what Cas was saying but he hoped he didnt. He didn't want it to end like this.

"I know. I know how you see yourself Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken. You're 'daddy's blunt instrument.' And you think that hate and anger thats...that's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know."

Cas smiles, and though tears are beginning to stream down his cheeks, it's full of love and joy and relief. Relief that he's finally getting to express the feelings that he'd kept hidden for so long.

"You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you." Cas laughs, the tears are still falling.

"You changed me Dean."

"Why does this sound like a goodbye?" Dean asks quietly. Inside he's praying. Praying that it's not a goodbye. That it's not the end.

"Because it is."

Dean takes a breath, wanting to say something, wanting to beg Cas to stay.

"I love you." And Cas smiles at him. Smiles brighter than he ever has, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Don't do this Cas."

Dean hears a wet sound behind him and turns to see the black goo of the empty squeezing in through the walls. He turns back tearfully.

"Cas..."

Cas puts his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Goodbye Dean."

"What?"

And Cas shoves him aside, allowing the empty to come forward, to take him.

"Cas!" Dean calls out, pleading.

Cas looks at him and smiles.

"I love you too." Dean screams, pain evident in his voice.

He sees Cas' eyes widen before he's swallowed by the empty, taking Billie right along with him.

He'd finally gotten what he'd wanted. He'd finally gotten the thing that would make up for everything, the pain and the struggles and the loss he's experienced his entire life. He'd gotten the love of the angel, the love that would make him feel whole again. And it was ripped from him. Stolen, before he could even have a second to enjoy it.

He sits back against the bunker wall, processing what had just happened. He feels his phone buzz, a call from Sam, and he presses ignore. Dean drops his face into his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. He'd lost what he'd always wanted.

It's only a few weeks later when Dean dies in that barn, hand clutching Sam's.

He opens his eyes to a country road. He grins.

"At least I made it to heaven."

"Yep."

Dean whips his head to where the voice came from, seeing Bobby sitting in a chair on the wooden porch of Harvelle's Roadhouse.

"What memory is this?"

"It ain't ya idjit."

"Yeah it is. Cause the last I heard you...you were in heavens lockup."

"Was. Now I'm not."

Bobby pauses before continuing.

"That kid of yours, before he went...wherever, made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he..."

Dean sits down on the chair next to Bobby.

"Well, he set some things right. Tore down all the walls up here. Heaven ain't just reliving your golden oldies anymore. It's what it always should have been. Everyone happy. Everyone together. Rufus lives about 5 miles that way... With Aretha," Bobby gestures up the road, "Thought she'd have better taste. And your mom and dad... they got a place over yonder." He gestures in another direction, "It ain't just Heaven, Dean. It's the Heaven you deserve. And we've been waiting for you."

Bobby takes out a beer for Dean and himself while Dean smiles proudly.

"So Jack did all that?"

"Well...Cas helped. It's a big new world out there. You'll see."

"Cas? He's around?"

Bobby grins, "Yeah he's around. He's been waitin for you too."

"Where?" Dean's voice is filled with nervous anticipation.

Bobby gestures to the door, "Inside. Go see your angel."

Dean sets his beer on the table and gets up from his chair, standing in front of the bar door for a moment before pushing it open.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the light difference of the bar, but when he does he spots that familiar trenchcoat and messy head of hair sitting at the bar.

His breath catches in his throat.

"Cas?"

Castiels head turns toward Dean, and he smiles, swiveling around on the bar stool and standing up.

"Hey Dean."

Dean stands there for a moment, taking him in, before rushing forward and wrapping one arm around the angels waist and using his other hand to cup his cheek before pulling Cas into a kiss.

He pulls back, staring into Castiels eyes. Tears were forming in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks.

"I've wanted to do that for so long."

Cas smiles softly and wipes away Dean's tears.

"I have too."

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester x castiel #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel

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ladyimaginarium · 1 year

Text

when ethel cain said "i always knew that in the end, no one was coming to save me, so i just prayed and i keep praying and praying" & "god loves you but not enough to save you" & "so, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself" & "god doesn't love you, not like i do" & "you and me against the world [...] we had nothing but each other, you were my whole world" & "your mama calls me sometimes to see if i'm doing well and i'd lie to her and say that i'm doing fine when, really, i'd kill myself to hold you one more time, and it hurts to miss you but it's worse to know that i'm the reason you won't come home" & "you know, i still wait at the edge of town, praying straight to god that maybe you'll come back around, i cry everyday and the bottles make it worse 'cause you were the only one i was never scared to tell i hurt [...] and you might never come back home, and i may never sleep at night, but god, i hope you're doing fine out there, i just pray that you're alright, and i feel so alone, and i feel so alone out here [...] and i feel so alone without you, i'm so alone" & "i'd hold the gun if you asked me to, but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to?" & "i tried to be good, am i no good, am i no good, am i no good?" & "i just wanted to be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours?" & "but in these motel rooms, i started to see you differently, 'cause for the first time since i was a child, i could see a man who wasn't angry" & "i thought good guys get to be happy, i'm not happy, i am poison in the water and unhappy" & then "preacher's saying god will save me, if god is real, he's a fucking bitch" & "i didn't ask to be this crazy but since we're here, i'll give them a show" & "if you try to hurt me, i won't stop you, but there's something you should know, it's that my daddy's fucking crazy and always ready to blow" & "the first boy i ever loved was a brother i never had, i thought, with him, maybe i'd make it, maybe it'd be half as bad, spent my night under the covers just wishing he was there, draw his portrait in my diary just to hold when i got scared, now i'm fucked up and i'm nasty, but they say i make it look good" & "what's gonna scare me when i've seen it all? [...] if i can't live, can i just fucking die?" & "am i not good enough for you? is there something wrong with me? baby, don't you lie to me, am i just not what you want? am i just not what you need? is there someone in your heart that keeps you gone away from me? is she prettier than me? is her skin softer than mine? can she give you what i can't? the thing i cry for every night?" & "i think about you everyday, 'cause i love you more than i thought i could [...] 'cause i don't hate you like i know i should, was i not good enough for you? was there something wrong with me? i just cry by myself at night but you'll never know and you'll never see" & "sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall, sometimes i wonder if i ever even knew you at all" & "and we've been cursed since the start, jesus didn't want us [...] and fuck the cops and fuck god and fuck this town for ruining us" & "in the corner, on my birthday, you watched me dancing right there in the grass, i was too young to know that some types of love could be bad" & "you poor thing, sweet mourning lamb, there's nothing you can do, it's already been done" & "bless the children, each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence" & "stop, stop, stop, make it stop, stop, make it stop, make it stop, i've had enough" & "i am the face of love's rage" & "and i spend my life watching it go by from the sidelines, and, god, i've tried, but i think it's about time i put up a fight" & "i forgive it all as it comes back to me" & "dancing with the windows open, i can't let go when something's broken, it's all i know, and it's all i want now" i& just. okayokayokayokay okay yeah alright hahahaha lmaoooo im& totally fine i& just

#arcana.txt #tw; long post #& 'THE FATES ALREADY FUCKED ME SIDEWAYS SWINGING FROM MY NECK FROM THE FAMILY TREE [...] THEN LEAVE ME HANGING SO THEY ALL CAN LAUGH AT ME'#''YOU NEED TIME I KNOW BUT JESUS IS THIS ALL YOU THINK OF ME? A PORTRAIT OF MY L.OVE IN ALL W.HITE AND ON HER KNEES?''#''STRANGERS TOUCH ME IN MY D.REAMS IF I GO TO BED SOBER WHEN THE CURTAINS TURN W.HITE I'LL KNOW THAT ITS OVER''#''YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TRYING TO LOVE WHILE YOU HEAL & YOU DONT GET TO PREACH IF YOU DONT KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO HAVE EVERY LAST INCH+#OF YOUR BODY INVADED LIKE I DO'' & ''WOKE UP A SAINT & FELL ASLEEP A MARTYR WOULD YOU DO THE SAME THINGS TO YOUR OWN DAUGHTER?''#& ''DOES GOD MAKE DELICATE THINGS JUST TO WATCH THEM GET HURT?''#LIKE ... MAN MAMA CAIN DIDNT HAVE TO EXPOSE ME& LIKE THAT😭

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felikatze · 1 year

Text

ok wait sitting on the arval stuff more (three hopes spoilers riu dni)

also i havent done the arval paralogue bcuz like. on god i'm not replaying this game rn cuz i will get burnout so bad

also this was the recruit byleth route on azure gleam so. again i am NOT replaying immediatly because i like the game but i also like myself.

ok ok so i think arval eventually betraying shez was set up really well actually.

the game does a good slowburn job of setting up that at some point shez just doesn't care abt defeating byleth anymore.

shez and arval initially are united in purpose, partners in destiny, but when shez joins one of the houses and becomes an important commander in a war, their personal revenge starts appearing insignificant to them and is eventually outweighed by their newfound trust and love for their friends.

additionally as they realize the connection arval and their power holds to those who slither in the dark, they grow afraid of their own power. the power they got from arval.

in azure gleam (and other routes similarly, probably) their fear grows so intense after unveiling how much tragedy those who slither brought into their friends' lives that they ask dimitri to strike them down should they ever turn their blade against their friends.

and, yknow, shez themself wouldnt just kill their friends willy-nilly. "if i ever turn my blade on you" actually means "if arval ever turns my blade on you." by making this request they acknowledge the possibility arval would do this.

whereas shez's drive for revenge fades, arval's only intensifies. arval's wrath drives a further wedge between them and shez, who starts to feel horror at arval's intent.

arval likely regained some degree of their memory when byleth went sothis mode, as seen by how fucking mad they got even before truly becoming epimenides again.

so like yeah this plot development was well-foreshadowed. and i think the map where you fight shez slaps. absolutely banger moment.

howeverrrrr. after that. i can accept epimenides banishing the three lords to the shadow realm as a cost-cutting measure because every route needs to resolve the arval plot and it would be hard to justify doing it differently three times so whatever. have a convergence point i dont care.

BUT. arval accepts becoming epimenides as their destiny. "i was always meant to become you," they say. but like? shez doesn't? shez never seems to acknowledge that the arval they know is gone. this is why i expected arval to show up again! bcuz. shez doesnr accept that they are the one who killed arval.

throughout the endgame they will still occasionally reference arval as their friend and like. pretend talk to arval in a more "if you could see me now" type of way but

epimenides makes it pretty clear that they (epimenides refers to themself as a man so did arval legit just forget their own gender? arval has so much transgender swag) don't really value shez and them calling shez their partner in destiny just felt like mockery to be honest. like oh you're not doing what i want so i'm gonna take over your body against your will you peon fuck you. that's the vibe on epimenides.

and then you gotta ask yourself how much arval actually valued shez for them to just become epimenides without a fight? without hesitation? cuz yknow typically in stories like this the power of friendship will snap whoever out of it which is what happens to shez but not to arval. arval just accepts what they've become and they die for it. the end. fin.

again!!! arval accepts this!! shez doesn't! it's such a weird dissonance. ig it's kinda subversive that power of friendship doesn't actually save arval but it still feels like a rugpull.

also suuuuper bad taste in my mouth from the azure gleam ending where like. thales and epimenides and all those slither guys talk about purifying the world from beasts right? reclaiming their rightful home above the surface by killing sothis? and at the end rhea says that she will purify the land by killing those who slither in the dark.

so it's like. both sides r the same. and the implication that sothis is the one who banished the agarthans to shamballah or wherever to let humans live in fodlan instead is. eh. everyone is the hero of their own story ig.

maybe i just dont know enough abt fe3h deeplore (<- has only played blue lions routes bcuz replaying academy phase gave him burnout and he hasnt picked three houses up since)

anyway this is just my experience. and my opinion

tldr: tho arval's betrayal is set-up really good and the first half of it is epic the actual fight against epimenides feels lacking because of how differently shez and arval feel about the situation with no attempt by the narrative to reconcile this dissonance.

#feli speaks #few3h #take a shot everytime i finish a video game and immediatly make a ramble essay abt ir #maybe i will actually play another route of three houses. and finally get like. lore #blue lions ily but goddamn you have NO fucking clue of what's going on behind the scenes in fe3h #the story is GOOD in how it hones in specifically on dimitri's development and that OWNS i love it but it does come at the cost #of the big picture stuff #'whoops ig el turned into a demon. time to kill her with no context!'

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rosemary-scented-roads · 2 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Morana’s Route [DARK 02]

??? (male voice): Nfu～ Now, who do we have here?

Morana: (No way! How am I here? Where is here?)

Ummm..

??? (white haired male): If you have something to say just spill it already!

Morana: !! Where am I?

??? (glasses wearing male): Our residence. Unfortunately, you're not the only one that barged in uninvited tonight.

Morana: (Right,Yui!)

Where is the other person then?

??? (male wearing a hat): Who knows? We were just getting to the good part when you arrived in her place.

Morana: (Good time? She look terrified.)

Shuu?: I've heard enough. You guys deal with this one however you want.

??? (male wearing a hat): Nfu. Don't mind if I do.

Ayato?: No you don't! She belongs to yours truly!

??? (purple haired male) : Say, Teddy. Do you think she would make a fine addition to our collection? I think so too.

??? (white haired male): I'm going to bed. Her screams better not wake me up or I'll kill you!

??? (glasses wearing male): Good grief. You better clean after yourselves too. I am not your maid.

Morana: (Not good! I need to think and fast!)

Wait, Shuu!

Shuu: ...

??? (male wearing a hat): Hooo? So you two know each other?

Morana: Yeah, yeah! We meet each other long ago so he maybe just forgot...

(Come on, remember!)

We meet in the forest remember? There was a huge fire and you were looking for Ed-

Shuu: !

He pins her down

How do you know that name?

Morana: (Huh? How did he-)

I..I already told you. In the forest-

Shuu: Shut up

His face gets closer

Morana: (Huh? Huh?! What? Something sharp is....my neck...)

!!!

FLASHBACK

Morana: God, this makes no sense!!

Luca: It doesn't makes sense because you skipped most of the classes.

Morana: Of course I did! When will I ever need to use this in real life?

Luca: Who knows? Maybe one day you'll be a world renowned scientist and during you Nobel prize acceptance you'll remember that the only reason you're there is because mine and Father's teaching.

Morana: ...

You can't be serious.

Luca: Yeah, no. I just hoped you'd react like the rest of the kids

Morana: They're like 10

Luca: So are you...mentally

Morana: HEY!

Luca: I'm kidding, I'm kidding. But for real, it isn't that hard to recite it. Just repeat after me...

FLASHBACK ENDS

Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti (I confess to God almighty)

Beatae Mariae semper Virgini (To blessed Mary ever Virgin)

Beato Michaeli archangelo (To the blessed archangel Michael)

Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis (To the holy apostles, to all the saints)

Shuu: heh...

First the cross and now praying in Latin?

Any other nonsense you were taught to use against us?

Morana: (I doesn't work?! Well then...)

Just one more thing

Shuu: ?

Morana: Hit them where it hurts!

*THUD*

Shuu: Kuh!

She jumps away from him

Ayato: Hahahahha! She totally throat punched him! That's awesome!

Morana: Please, listen! You can't kill me.

??? (glasses wearing male): Can't?

Morana: ....shouldn't.

??? (male wearing a hat): Hmmmm? And why is that?

Morana: Y-you said it yourself. When the other girl dissappear I showed up in her place. So what's gonna happen to her if I die?

(They weren't going to kill her. Right?? There's no way Seiji would let that happen!)

??? (glasses wearing male): ...fine. You've earned your self some time

Shuu: Reiji- you...

Reiji: I will contact father and explain the situation. Until then, she will stay here as our guest. The same rule applies to her as would for the other one.

Morana: (That's not enough time. I need to find a way out!)

Reiji: Lest I forget...

He grabs Morana by her chin

Any attempt of escape will be met with dire consequences. Do I make myself clear?

Morana: (Such piercing eyes. I need to get on his good side)

....understood

Reiji: Good. Now then, I leave you in Shuu's care since you two seem to be getting along.

Morana: Getting along? He tried to kill me!

Reiji: And if Im lucky enough you'll kill each other in the process.

Morana: ....

Reiji: The rest of you get ready for school. Ayato! Show her to her room.

Ayato: Huuuh? Why me? You just said she's Shuu's responsibility!

Reiji: While I did say that he will be busy retelling the event with me to Father

Shuu: ...

Ayato: FINE!

C'mere!

Morana: H-hey! WAIT!

He drags her away

??? (male wearing a hat): Bye bye for now~ Don't worry I'll stop by when you get lonely

???(white haired male): Che...I'm going ahead. I don't want to have anything to do with her, you hear?!

??? (male wearing a hat): Awww don't be like that Subaru. I saw how excited you got when Shuu pinned her down~

Subaru: LAITO, YOU BASTARD! DO YOU WANNA FIGHT?!

??? (purple haired male) : Let's go Teddy. It got really loud and annoying here.

Reiji: You two stop fighting! Kanato, call the chauffeur and get ready. And you, you better start actually thinking for once unless you want to be banished by father again.

Shuu: ...

Scene changes

Ayato: We're here. Now get in!

He shoves her inside

Morana: ugh

Ayato: Now listen up! I don't care what you and that sloth man have but you better remember that yours truly is the law here! What I say goes.

Morana: Okay?

Ayato: Now, get dressed. Four eyes is gonna be real fuckin annoying if we're late for school again.

Morana: Dressed? School? I'm 19 I finished school last year. Why should I go?

Ayato: Cuz we sure as hell wont leave you here alone! Now-

He reaches for her clothes

Ayato: -take this shit off!

Morana: Hey, hey, hey! Hands off!

I get it, I'll do it myself. Now leave!

Ayato: Haaaa? Who do you think you're ordering around?!

Morana: (This is bad. I need to play into his ego)

I'm sorry,I'm sorry, you're right.

Ayato: Of course I am!

Morana: It's just that my luggage is still downstairs and I want to get completely changed if you know what I mean.

Ayato: Heeh... already coming onto me are ya? Maybe you're not as dumb as you look. Yours truly will get his servants to bring your stuff up, you wait here!

Morana: Ok~

Ayato leaves

Morana: (I have 5 min max till he figures it out. Better get changed.)

TIMESKIP

Everyone is in the limousine

Laito: Hahahahah. I can't believe you fell for that Ayato. Seems our guest here is a sneaky little fox~

Ayato: SHUT UP! Next time she tries to pull something like this I'll suck her dry.

Morana: Ummmm...

(Maybe mentioning the whole don't kill me thing might provoke him even more)

So how exactly am I going to school again?

Reiji: Quite simple. Since we already had all the information from the other human we simply forged another document, ms. Komori. Hopefully, your sister will join us soon enough.

Morana: Eh?

(They're using Seijis last name...I don't want that.)

Reiji: You're dissatisfied with my work?

Morana: I'd be lying if I said I wasn't but I doubt you care about my personal feelings about this whole situation.

Reiji: And you would be right.

Maybe there is hope for you after all.

Morana: ...

Scene changes

Reiji: Now go to class and don't soil our family name.

Laito: Bye, bye Morana-chan. Come and find me if you ever get lonely~

Everyone leaves

Morana: ...

So, Shuu where are we- eh?

(He's heading to the separate wing? But all the classrooms are...)

S-shuu!

Shuu: Shut up. Do whatever you want just leave me alone.

Shuu leaves

Morana: (He really doesn't care, does he? What am I thinking? This is perfect! If I take off right now they won't be able to-)

*Flap flap*

Morana: Huh?

*Flap flap*

Morana: A bat?

(A giant one in fact. Do they really come this close to cities?)

Anyway I need to get-

The bat follows her

Morana: What?

(No way?! It's following me?)

Shoo! Shoo! Leave me alone.

She breaks into a run

Timeskip

Morana: haaaah....haaa... okay, okay. You're definitely following me. Fuck!

*Flap flap*

Morana: Yeah, yeah I get it. I'll go to the next class. Just let me catch my breath will ya?

(Of course it was too good to be true. I guess my best chance of running is tricking Ayato or something to leave me unsupervised.)

Hmm?

(Someone's on the roof too? Are- are they looking at me?)

Didn't your mom teach you it's rude to stare?

Unknown man: -e? No....no.

You're just another-

The same as me.

Morana: What?

(What is he talking about?)

Hey! Do you know what's going on here? Please, tell me!

Unknown man: Play your role livestock. That's all you need to know.

He disappears

Morana: Wait!

(He just vanished. Play my role? What does that even mean?)

God...none of this is making any sense.

Flap flap

Fine, fine. I'm going back.

She turns towards the stairs

???: -love you. For ever and ever and ever.

Morana: Hmm?

(Another person? Really? Guess class attendance doesn't matter when you're rich)

Laito: Morana-chan, you're really bad at eavesdropping you know that?

Morana: Huh? Wait, I wasn't-

Laito: A bad liar too

Laito grabs her by the neck

Laito: I thought you would be much more straightforward, I have to say I'm disappointed.

Morana: ( I can't breathe! He...he's going to kill me!)

Laito: What do you think your punishment should be? I'll let you choose.

Morana: (No good, I'm losing consciousness)

Everything goes white

Morana: Hnnnng. What? Wh-where am I?

(I'm....in front of the manor? But, where is everyone?)

Did they carry me all the way just leave me in front?

???: Please remain by my side, Shuu.

Morana: ?? Who's that?

(Didn't see her in the manor. Again with these old clothes. But Shuu doesn't look any younger)

Shuu: ...

They go deeper into the garden

Morana: (I need to figure out what's going on. If I keep my distance they won't notice me, right?)

Hmm?

(Something feels off.)

She starts looking around

Morana: !

(Reiji?! Is he's spying on them? But who's that in the background?)

Morana slowly approaches Reijis window

???: The woman is the target?

Morana: !!!

(Seiji?!)

Reiji: Yes. However, this really is strange. To think that I would employ someone like you, a vampire hunter.

Morana: !!!

(A what? That old man, a vampire hunter?)

Seiji: Make no mistake, once I finish this job I will come back one day to kill you too.

Reiji: Of course. I'll wait eagerly for that day.

Monologue

Even after the conversation ended and Seiji left the room I stayed hidden under the window,

Still processing all the new information that has been presented to me.

Seiji, a vampire hunter?

If that were true why did he send Yui here?

Did she really mean that little to him?

Is everything we know about him a lie?

There's also the question of who that man on the roof was?

I needed to play my role?

No matter how many times I repeated these questions in my head, nothing came to mind so I did the only thing I feel I could.

I ran after Shuu and the woman.

Dark 03

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers oc #dialovers #dl oc #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers morana

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saltypiss · 16 days

Text

Republicans (and most dems) really think that your life should be nothing but making toothbrushes or burgers.

Don't take anytime to look at the eclipse, god knows that's not as important or significant as ensuring the next batch of oreos sells.

Nah, all life is about is the human construct of working for someone else to make them rich. Eclipses? Natural anything events? The world? Not as important as the human construct of numbers. A Meteor could be set to destroy the moon and companies would still force you to work. The gift of prophecy has been fulfilled, you were warned.

God knows if people were paid decently the very concept of "lost money" due to an eclipse would be dead in the water, but again, you're not allowed a real life, you're allowed to "work" to ""survive"" and at no point does it become worthwhile or fun or by the end of your life, mean Anything.

Only work. Wake up, commute, work, commute, sleep, wake up, commute, work, commute, sleep.

The rich aren't doing that. We are. To ourselves.

Just saying J6 showed you can actually do real protests towards practically anyone and are guaranteed results so long as you aren't spreading shit on the walls and as braindead as republicans where they were ONE DOOR FROM ELECTED OFFICIALS but got distracted by the black cop. Of course. Recognize this group was advanced stupid and honestly they didn't have any plans or ideas other than to spread chaos.

Imagine...imagine if smart people did that for a better world? Instead of going because of Dump, it was for americans? You and me? What if instead of going in to fuckin kill people, we just put the fear of god in them? What are they gonna do? Send the military? As if. They'll just do a misinformation campaign and send Legal Gangs to people's houses to kidnap them.

And that's why you sit in their offices and courts and force them to listen. When the entire room is filled with those you oppressed, staring back at you from mere inches away, watch as they crumble and work for us.

The rules aren't as real as we think they are, the military wasn't sent. They raided the capitol. The last thing these people want is for us to recognize we're A Lot Stronger than they make us out to be. We're Far More Able than it ever appeared initially.

The human experience everyone. We dedicated ALOT of energy and work to ensure the human experience is actually worthless and the concept of being born more existential than ever before.

700 Billion Dollars lost from AT MOST 15 minutes of people on break looking at the eclipse, hanging out and talking.

Stop. Working. Stop. Purchasing.

One day.

One week at best.

Just call in and make no purchases.

All of the companies will crumble. Watch as wages that deeefinitely could never be raised FLY off the charts just by respecting and caring about yourself in any regard over faceless companies that still haven't paid taxes since god knows when anymore.

But hey sure, this is living. Where your vote meant genocide one way or another. Sure. There's nothing we can collectively do here ya'll. This is life. What God intended was for you to spend your life on his godly construct to focus soley on selling febreze sprays and defending genocides that rich fucks set off. That's what Republicans will say directly, but dems are cowards and try to make it sound like a worthy sacrifice.

You aren't a sacrifice for the corporate lamb. You only are considered such because the government labeled you as such. I've never been both sides because R's are like cancer, it's just gonna be around, but dems specifically keep you placated from ever trying.

They're both against your interests. Just one is exponentially worse for us than the other is for everyone else. That's not a choice. The rich are running for president. We never will, because we're busy working and paying taxes. Something the rich never does.

Again. This is living. According to both sides. But if you ask actual people? This is hell. Biden didn't do shit to save us from Dump, he just got himself a spot he can get paid by Israel for. That's it.

#politics #eclipse

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notanotherreidgirl · 3 years

Note

What about a recount of sub!Spence having all his first times with reader (kiss, groping, handjob etc etc) and then FINALLY they're going to do the big one and Spence is so excited but also so nervous and you're reassuring him and it's the first you're doing anything that requires a condom so you offer to put it on for him. But Spence is so worked up and just cums as you roll down the condom.

This has been in my thoughts for longer than I'd like to admit

well damn, anon. i'm gonna be thinking of this way more than I'd be comfortable admitting to as well.

there is a bit of buildup in this one so sit tight

Warnings: kissing, handjob, premature ejaculation, blowjob (kinda, just a little bit), oral sex (female receiving - only mentioned), size kink

Spencer clutched the bouquet of flowers to his chest as he crossed the street to your place. He felt a little silly bringing flowers especially considering what you guys were planning to do but they reminded him of your first date. The two of you had passed a florist and you pointed out your favorites so he pulled you in and bought them for you right on the spot.

At the end of the night he dropped you back to your apartment and stood there for a moment, desperately wanting to kiss you but he didn’t know where to begin. Should I ask for permission? Would that kill the mood? Would you even want to kiss me? What if you didn’t kiss me back? What if I ruin things?

But then you just leaned in and captured his lips with yours as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He brought the flowers to his face and remembered how the bouquet had crinkled between the two of you that night, the sweet floral scent wafting up and sealing that perfect moment.

Shakily he knocked at your door and it swung open immediately. You ushered him in with a peck on the cheek, hurriedly bringing him into the warmth of your apartment. The first time he had been here he couldn’t help but commit your place to memory, trying hard not to profile you despite his desire to learn everything about you. It was so cozy, so warm, so inviting - he never wanted to leave.

You jolted him back to the present by taking the flowers and telling him to take a seat on the couch while you put them in water. He sat down and memories of you stroking his cock in this very spot flooded his mind. It was the first time someone other than himself had touched him in this way. You had taken him in your hand so carefully, praising him profusely as you glided your hand up his shaft and swiped your thumb across the tip on each pass. He recalled how deeply embarrassed he was at how quickly he had come but you had simply guided his hand underneath your pants to feel your wetness.

“See what you do to me, baby?” you had whispered and he experienced yet another first that night, tasting the sweetness between your legs. For the past few weeks, that was all the two of you had done but last night when he called to let you know his case was wrapping up you alluded to doing something more the next time you were together.

Needless to say, Spencer had been overwhelmed with nerves for the last 24 hours. He had to redo all his paperwork because he kept making silly mistakes, he spent nearly 45 minutes fixing his hair, he read 83 scientific articles pertaining to sexual gratification. As if you could sense his worry, you settled in next to him and took his hands in yours. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, engulfing your hand in his. The first time you had held hands was at a horror film festival, you had grabbed onto him at a jump scare and didn't let go for the rest of the movie. “No, Y/N. It’s not that. I’m not - I don’t have the most experience and-” he sighed, looking down at his shoes. “I don’t want to disappoint you”

“Spencer, look at me” you tugged at your interlocked hands until he met your eyes. “You could never ever disappoint me. You understand?”

He nodded. You could tell he wasn’t convinced but it would do. “Good, now kiss me”

That he could do. Your lips met softly at first but the kiss quickly deepened and you smiled into his mouth at how eager he was. When you felt the tension in his arms start to loosen, you pulled away and guided him towards the bedroom. He followed your lead, undressing between kisses and murmured words of praise until you were finally toying with the waistband of his underwear. You looked up at him for consent and he blushed, giving you a nod. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him before but it was different this time.

You sucked in a breath when you pulled his waistband down. “You’re so pretty, Spence. My pretty boy”

His cock involuntarily twitched at the praise and he stifled a whimper. You moved over him, straddling him low over his thighs and bringing his cock to rest on your stomach, the tip just past your belly button. His eyes widened when he saw how far up he reached, how deep inside you he would be. You stroked him lightly, spreading his precum and relishing in the symphony of whines and soft, little moans erupting from his lips. “You’re doing so good, Spence. You like that?”

He nodded vigorously and you smiled. “There are condoms on the nightstand”

He grabbed one and fumbled a bit with the wrapper, his nerves getting the best of him. “You need some help with that?”

“Y-yes, please.” You tore it open and positioned it at the tip, starting to roll it down. He threw his head back against the pillows as soon as he felt the latex encase him, biting down on his lip but it was no use. When you got halfway he let out an involuntary shudder and a loud whine and you felt his warm cum underneath the condom, seeping out and pooling onto his stomach.

“That’s so fucking hot” your voice was different, low and hoarse with lust. You quickly removed the condom and changed positions, pushing yourself down and nestling between his legs. Spencer didn’t have any time to process his embarrassment, much less stammer out an apology, before you were licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. “Let me clean you up and then we’ll try again”

Blurb Masterlist

#blurbs #thank you thank you <3 #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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supercap2319 · 2 years

Text

Insane Chapter 2

Barry Allen x Male Reader

A/N: Second chapter is done, but I will have to wait and watch what happens during the next episode to write chapter 3 lol. Has anyone guessed who Y/N’s powers are based on? The gif below will help lol

“What? Are you insane?” Y/N asked, incredulously. They had just survived a run-in with Despero, and Barry's plan to save the world was for Y/N to kill him?

“It's only to make sure that the future Despero told me about doesn't happen,” Barry countered.

“Barry, listen to yourself. What you're asking for is crazy. You're asking me to kill another human being, and that goes against everything I stand for as a hero,” Y/N said.

“You have to Y/N. You have to follow the Injustice Protocols.”

“No, the protocols state we either contain or take away a rogue member’s powers away if possible. It doesn't say we kill them, Barry.”

“Do you think I want you to do this? Because I don't, but I don't have any other choice,” Barry said.

“There’s always a choice, Barry. Heroes always find another way,” Y/N said. Barry shook his head. “Not this time. This time is different.”

“Think about what you're doing. If I kill you, then what about your team? Iris? Central City? Or what about your kids in the future, Nora and Bart?” Barry looks away. “They'll all be better off without me.” Y/N shook his head. “No, they won't. They'll be devastated. I'm sorry, but my answer is no.”

Y/N turned to walk away from Barry. “Where are you going?” Barry asks. “I'm doing things my way and calling the others as I should have.”

“I am not acting out of fear. I'm trying to do the right thing,” Barry pleads.

“Yeah, and I thought you were too, but I was wrong,” Y/N said, turning to look at him. “You’re just afraid of becoming this man that Despero says you are.”

“I've already hurt people! I’m already a liability!”

“No,what you are is a hero! Doesn’t that mean something?” Y/N asks. Barry has a desperate look on his face. “I’ve seen what happens. What I end up doing.” Y/N scoffs and walks away as Barry walks after him saying: “It’s going to happen. Killing me is the only way to save the world. Damn it, Y/N! It’s the only way to save your loved ones too!” At the mention of his family Y/N stops and slowly turns around and glares at Barry.

“I suggest you keep my family out of this,” Y/N says, angrily. He knows Barry is just scared and not thinking straight. Once someone comes to help then Barry will see this is a bad idea. He walks away determined not to be baited by Barry again.

“After everything we’ve done today, everything I’ve told you, you’re just giving up,” Barry says behind Y/N. His whole body crackles with electricity as his anger grows. “I’m asking you to save the world, and you won’t even listen!!!” Barry throws a bolt of lightning at Y/N, that surges through the young hero’s body, and destroys his phone. Y/N looks at Barry in disbelief. Did the Flash just attack him?

“You’re gonna hear me now, ’cause one way or the other, you’re gonna kill me.” Y/N looks into Barry’s eyes, which are wild and unfocused. “Look at what I just did! The damage I can still cause!” Barry shouts out. “You made a promise to keep this world safe.” Barry’s eyes flash with electricity as he runs at Y/N. Y/N uses his own super speed to move to the other side of Barry. Barry looks at Y/N bewildered. “Kinda hard to make me kill you, if you can’t even catch me,” Y/N says.

Barry runs at Y/N again, but this time he flies into the air where Barry can’t reach him. “Give it up, Barry. You can’t fly.” Barry looks up at Y/N. “You’re right, I can’t fly, but have you ever heard the expression ‘two birds with one stone?’” Barry charges up for another lightning throw, as Y/N cups his hands together and rubs them really fast until a ball of fire is in his hands. He throws it at Barry, as the scarlet speedster throws his lightning. The two attacks collided with each and caused a miniature explosion. Y/N uses it as a distraction and flies towards Barry and slams into him, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to knock him down. Barry rolls to the ground and groans out. Y/N comes down to the ground and walks towards the speedster.

“You need to stop this insanity,” Y/N said, holding out a hand for Barry to take. Barry looks at Y/N’s outreached hand, and sighs. He looks at Y/N, grabs his hand and pulls him close. “And you need to hang on.” Barry zips them both around the room, knocking Y/N into anything he can. Y/N knows Barry is only doing this to get a rise out of him, but it won’t work. He has to stop it somehow. Y/N punches Barry, and the combined might of speed, strength, and motion propels them forward in the display case with Oliver Queen’s Arrow Suit. They break through the glass and fall to the ground.

Barry looks at Oliver’s fallen suit and feels a wave of guilt and sadness about what just happened. “You think this is what Oliver would have wanted?” Y/N stands up. “During Elseworlds, Oliver went to the Monitor and traded his life for yours and Kara’s because he knew you were the kind of heroes this world needs.”

“You are the best of us, Barry,” Y/N says. “Oliver Queen wasn't a quitter. He’d never quit on you, so don't quit on yourself,” Y/N told him. “Please, for me, don't stop fighting. No matter what the future holds.” Barry looks at Y/N, tears in his eyes. He can't believe he tried to hurt one of his friends. This crisis with Despero had him doing anything he could to stop the future from happening, but he was wrong. “Y/N, I'm so sorry,” Barry sobbed.

Y/N kneeled down. “It's alright, everything is going to be alright.” Barry looked at Y/N. Really, looked at him, and felt all those hidden wants and desires coming to the surface. When he first met Y/N, he liked him, but tried to convince himself he was still straight. Then when he got engaged to Iris, he needed to put those feelings away. And when they were married, he had to bury them. He couldn't feel this way about Y/N, could he? Was it wrong to want this?

Barry leaned in and pecked Y/N on the lips. Y/N pulled back in shock. “Barry, what are you doing?” Barry licked his lips. “Please, Y/N. I want… I need… I need to feel something other than sadness.” Y/N knew this was a bad idea doing this. Barry wasn't in his right mind, and it would be selfish of him to take advantage of Barry when he was like this, but he wanted this, too. Y/N has had a crush on Barry since he first saved Kara and after he found out about Iris, he tried to repress those desires, but right now; he didn't want to.

Y/N leaned in close and Barry met him as their lips locked together. It felt like fireworks were going off as they kissed. It sent tingles down Y/N’s body. Barry grabbed the back of Y/N’s head and pulled them closer to deepen the kiss, as Y/N’s hands snaked down Barry’s back onto his zipper.

“Oh, God,” a voice says.

Both heroes turned around to see Iris West Allen, and a guy Y/N didn't recognize in a letterman’s jacket. Deon the Still Force. Iris's mouth was opened and had shed a few tears. Barry stood up slowly. “Iris, I can explain–”

The rest of Barry's sentence was cut off as Despero teleports in and hits Y/N across the room before grabbing Barry by the throat. “I told you, Flash, if I found any trace of your true nature, I'd end your existence.”

“Leave him alone! He's innocent,” Iris says. “Someone changed the timeline to kill my father and make Barry seem insane.”

Despero looks at her. “You really believe you're telling the truth,” He chuckles. “How tragic.” He squeezes tighter as a third eye opens on his forehead. Y/N fires a blast of heat vision at the eye, causing Despero to cry out in pain, and let Barry go. Y/N flies towards Despero and slams into a nearby wall. “Round two, Clown face.” Despero growls against Y/N, trying to push the hero off of him. “Hurry! I'll hold him off.”

Iris and Deon run to Barry. “You need to go and figure out who is trying to frame you.”

“I need to go to the future, see who really causes Armageddon,” Barry says.

“I can't hold him much longer!” Y/N cries.

“I'm not gonna make it there. I don't have enough Speed Force left,” Barry said. “But he does,” Deon says, pointing to Y/N. “Y/N’s not a speedster,” Iris says.

“I know that, but if he and Dad combine speeds, they should make it,” Deon says. Barry looks at Y/N fighting Despero. “Y/N! I need you.” Y/N looks at Barry, then back to Despero. “Sorry, gotta go.” Y/N punches Despero to the ground.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked.

“No time to explain,” Barry says. “Just run Y/N. Run!” Both heroes run out of the hall and run as fast as they can, combining their speeds to open up a time portal and run through it.

Despero recovers and notices the two heroes have once again escaped. He glares at Iris and Deon. “You all just killed this world.” He teleports away.

Barry and Y/N travel to Central City in 2031. Barry notices everything looks okay. No destruction, like Despero said. Y/N’s eyes fall onto a sign: Robern’s Private Event. West Party. “Barry, come take a look at this.” Barry comes to Y/N’s side as he reads the sign in confusion. They needed to find out what’s going on. They change out of their suits, find some clothes to wear and enter the private event.

Barry’s ears perked up at the sound of a familiar voice that made his stomach drop. “If I could have everyone's attention for a moment. I have been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time. When you find the love of your life, it's like electricity pulsing through your veins, giving you a shock that you absolutely never want to end because... because now…”

Y/N and Barry are shocked to see Eobard Thawne making the speech as Iris comes up to the stage, wearing a ring on her finger. “Now you're part of something greater. You're part of something wonderful. And, frankly, surprising because you never know... what face fate will be wearing when she shows up to knock on your door and change your life forever,” Eobard smiles. “When it does, for you, my wish is that face... Is as beautiful as the one standing next to me. To Iris West, the love of my life... And to our future together.” They raise their glasses in toast.

“This is wrong, Y/N,” Barry whispers. Y/N nods his head in agreement. “What the hell did Thawne do?” Iris notices them and has a look of terror on her face. Eobard looks at them and smiles. Chester, Allegra, Alex, Cecile, Ryan Choi, Dr. Ramsey Rosso, and Ryan Wilder look at them with pure hatred and fear.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Ryan Wilder says, as Y/N and Barry look on in confusion.

#the flash #barry allen x male reader #barry allen #male reader insert #x male reader #male insert #the flash x male reader #male hero x male hero #male x male #super heroes #gay vibes #colors #biseuxal

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rendevousz · 3 years

Text

not a secret anymore

natasha romanoff x fem!teen!reader

summary: nat reveals a secret to the public when your class takes a learning journey to the tower.

requested: yes

warnings: might come off as half assed writing because this probably is one of my worst works i'm so sorry 😭😭

word count: 1681

notes: i'm so sorry i haven't been writing much, i've recently just gotten extremely busy so i had no time to sit down and write (this one was literally written between all the short breaks i had 😫) and i have a few requests piling up so i hope you guys can understand if they come later <3

"hi, y/n!" ally, an agent, greeted you as you, along with your classmates, walked through the east wing hallway of the tower. your classmates—except for peter, ned and mj— turned to look at you with confused looks.

your class was having a learning journey at the avengers tower and you had contemplated on calling in sick to avoid people who worked in the tower acknowledging you around your classmates.

you were actually an avenger—yeah, crazy—, having been rescued during one of the many avengers' hostage rescue missions few years ago. you were able to single-handedly take down a few of your captors, hence why the team took interest in you then.

now, though you had been trained enough, they decided to keep you a secret in order to protect you. lord knows how many people would try hurt you if they ever found out the avengers had a new, teenage recruit. peter was technically still safe as his alter-ego is masked so you had no choice but to only go on missions that weren't in the public eye.

you also lived in the tower so the agents and staff were undoubtedly familiar with you, some even friends with you, just like ally, who had just passed by with a wave of her hand at you before turning the corner.

"did that lady just acknowledge you?" an annoying voice spoke from beside you in a mocking tone. you gulped, not wanting to respond to flash's irrelevant question.

"hey, loser, i'm talking to you," he nudged your arm with his elbow and you held the urge to grab it and flip his whole body upside down. it's not like you couldn't—you had the skills, obviously— but it's the fact that you didn't want to get in trouble for that.

you ended up keeping quiet, like you always did whenever the boy taunted you. peter taught you to do just that. if it were up to you, flash's stupid face wouldn't even dare to show itself in front of you anymore.

speaking of peter, he was nowhere to be seen by now. you internally rolled your eyes. it had only been two minutes and they were already gone. peter was probably showing them around the place. you had no idea how your teacher didn't notice the three of them missing from your group. you were so going to kill them for ditching you and leaving you alone when they knew they were your only friends. they were also the reason why flash still had his head to this day because they'd stop you from doing anything rash. now you weren't sure if flash would be safe from your fury.

"you probably work here as a cleaner on the weekends or something, huh? that's the only way people here would know you," flash jeered. you let out a breath, trying to control your anger towards the boy.

you rolled your eyes, opting to deliberately ignore his insults and walk away instead, hoping you'll bump into those three idiots of friends of yours.

"did you just ignore me?" flash asked incredulously, as if it was a crime to ignore his annoying ass. he pulled you back by your back collar, effectively halting you in your spot.

by instinct, you grabbed his hand that was on your collar, twisting it and turning his whole body around, pinning him against the wall with his twisted arm pressed against his back. it happened in just two seconds which totally caught flash off guard, the boy groaning in pain as he begged you to let him free.

you could hear a series of gasps from all around you and you internally groaned. this is why you always ignored flash's taunting. you didn't want to attract attention to yourself and have people wonder how you could defend yourself so well. but flash just had to provoke you. especially here, out of all places.

"what's going on here?" you heard a familiar voice ask and you sighed.

"oh my gosh! it's the black widow!"

"miss romanoff!"

"oh my gosh, i'm gonna need to get a picture for my mum later, she's gonna freak out!"

you stepped away from flash, releasing him as he dramatically kept rubbing at his arm. as if you even put that much pressure. flash smirked, seeing this as a chance to complain about you to an official avenger.

"this girl right here," flash points an accusing finger at you with a glare, like he wasn't just practically begging for his life twenty seconds ago. "attacked me."

you rolled your eyes, unamused. "i hardly attacked him." you told nat. the woman turned to you, an eyebrow raised as she gave you a knowing look. "this...?" she trailed off and you nodded, knowing what she was insinuating. you'd told her about flash one too many times for her not to immediately figure out who he is from a crowd of students.

"flash thompson. heard a lot about you," she turned to the boy. flash's face lit up, thinking he must've made a name for himself or something that even the black widow knew him. little did he know he did, but not for good reasons.

"i would prefer if you stop messing with y/n/n." nat gave him a sharp look and that grin was immediately wiped off his face. "i– y/n/n?" he stuttered, confused that the natasha romanoff is calling you by a nickname.

"you do know she can kick your ass if she wanted to, right? she's been silent all this while because she didn't want to hurt you but you just never seem to learn, huh?" nat took slow, calculated steps towards him until she was towering over him.

"she doesn't need anyone to protect her because she's fully capable of that but i'm just here to warn you, kid, that she, is not to be meddled with. i'm saying this for your own good, flash thompson. she's capable of much worse than whatever she just did to you. so if i hear you messing around with her or any of her friends," she pauses before continuing with a whisper. "i'll close one eye on whatever she wants to do with you."

you wished you could've taken a picture of the dead scared look on flash's face; it was priceless. you turned to nat once she stepped away from him and she put an arm around your shoulder, leading you both away from the watching crowd.

"i–i'm sorry, miss romanoff," you could hear one of your teachers say and nat stopped, effectively stopping you too as she had you in her hold. "but miss y/l/n is on a learning journey with us and she'll miss the tour of the tower if she leaves with you. we'll be discussing a lot regarding this trip in class and she won't understand what we talk about if she misses this tour. i hope you understand." he spoke nervously.

"with all due respect, y/n's seen the whole tower already," she smiles at him but you could tell it was fake. "even the avengers' residential floors which are closed to the public and most employees of the tower."

your teacher looked at her wide-eyed, mouth open but nothing coming out. nat smiles a fake one once again. "now if you'll excuse us, the both of us have avenger duties to attend to."

gasps could be heard all around you and in the midst of it all, your best friends came back and you made eye contact with them, all of them having the same shocked look on their face.

"avenger duties?! nat, what are you doing?!" you whisper-yelled at the woman who seemed to be enjoying the reactions of your classmates and teachers.

"y/n!" peter ran over to you, your other friends following suit. "oh, um hi miss romanoff," he greets shyly. "thanks a lot, guys, look what happened." you spoke sarcastically, rolling your eyes at them. nat proceeded to drag you away from your friends and the last thing you saw was them mouthing apologies and you half-heartedly mouthing to them back that it was fine.

"relax, y/n/n, the public were about to find out soon anyways." nat said nonchalantly. "what?!" you exclaimed once you two were in a different hallway.

"yeah, you're gonna have press this weekend for this. we're gonna officially announce you to the world as an avenger." she once again says nonchalantly, as if this wasn't the first time you were hearing this. "wait, wait, wait, seriously?" you asked in disbelief. no one had told you anything.

"yeah, i—ohh yeah, you don't know yet," nat remembers and you give her an unimpressed look. she wasn't usually this dumb; she only showed this side of her to you. "sorry, i uh, yeah.. i was supposed to come get you for this. meeting with fury and the rest, yknow?" she tells you and you nodded slowly, taking in the information.

"but tell me it didn't feel good that you got to do that to flash," the woman states excitedly and you playfully rolled your eyes at her. "you got to do something. i'm practically an empty threat to him," you stated matter-of-factly.

"not after this weekend you're not. he'll be afraid of you after. that's what you get for being a smelly bully." you couldn't help the little smile on your face. she really sounded like a child right now and it was adorable.

"alright, natty, whatever you say. let's go before fury releases his fury." you look at her hopefully, waiting for her to laugh at your joke which she responded with an unimpressed look. that of course didn't work as you two burst out laughing looking at each other's faces.

you walked alongside her, the woman resting an arm around your shoulder. you smiled up at her as she talked about her day.

god, you couldn't wait to be able to finally walk out in public with these people you considered family.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky @marauvdersfate

#marvel x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #avengers #avenger!reader #mcu x teen!reader #mcu x reader #avengers x avenger!reader #natasha romanoff x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

--------------

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

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