#i cannot wrap my head around the need for so much hate and violence and ignorance

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[mullermilkshake]

He still won't let you go.

Part 2 <- -> Part 3

Kento Nanami x Fem reader! Tags -DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT,Imprisonment,Held captive,Referenced domestic violence,Psychological abuse,Self preservation sex though non-con,Breeding,Trying for a baby,Gojo is just there,You don't trust anyone

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“That is it.” Kento dragged you back up to his apartment kicking and screaming. 

You only just narrowly avoided your head on the door frame when he threw you inside the apartment. No one had even bothered to emerge from their apartments to even see what the commotion was about, not even the woman in six-o-two.

“I have had it with your attitude and it is now something I cannot stand. I thought we were making progress but you have left me with no choice.” He hadn’t wiped away the blood splatter from his face dripping down the back of his shirt covering it in red. 

“Just let me go. This is fucked, you need help. I have a life and you aren’t a part of it!” This all probably sounded like a domestic, no one came though, no one knocked to see if you needed help.

Silence. His back faced you, the door lock click was muffled. Kento didn’t move from that spot. You glanced around the room for anything to defend yourself with, broken shards of the lamp still as they were, close to cutting your knees.

Nothing. Nothing of substance that could get in some damage to slow that tank of a man down in order for you to get to the lobby and call the authorities. Though right now, his silent stance was even more frightening than if he was to shout in your face and throw you around or hold that knife to you.

You still couldn’t see his face and his body language didn’t give away anything for you to gauge what he was thinking. It made him all the more dangerous.

“I told you how I felt, so why can you not accept it? This is how it is now and you aren’t making anything easier by hurting me. That lamp…” He turned slowly and leant against the hallway wall by the picture frame. “It hurt me. And it might hurt you if you aren’t too careful, you'll cut your knees.”

A few steps and he was in front of you, crouched down. “This can be a good thing for the both of us, but it can get difficult if you continue to fight me every step of the way.”

If you pushed him now with every ounce of your might and strength, maybe, just maybe you could get to the door quick enough to unlock it and try again. Your throbbing scalp was a reminder of what would happen if you got caught again, he was on high alert enough as it was. 

It was indicative of the fact he took your wrists in either hand and squeezed a little, not enough to hurt, more of a warning. “Even now, you can’t even bear to look at me even after all I've done for you, all you think about is leaving me. I can give you everything, anything that most people would jump at the opportunity to have. A loving partner who worships the very ground they walk on. But you just turn your nose at it.” 

He’s going to snap at any moment, I just know it.  

You could see it, hands pulled away and his own wrapped around your throat until your legs stopped kicking, and those frantic arms would thrash and claw at his face until they went limp. No air left in those burning lungs until that shine left your eyes. 

He didn't. Kento placed your wrists in one hand and brought the other up to your face. “I told you I love you, Darling. Why is it so hard for you to understand that there is no one on this earth that will ever love you as much as I do? You make me a better person.”

If he was a better person with you present, you would really hate to see him without you. Like he was some axe wielding maniac who destroyed everything he touched and morphed into a deranged puppy dog whenever he saw you just to make you humanise him.

Yeah, that was utter bullshit.

“I’ll admit my mistakes and apologise for how aggressive I may have been out in the hallway. But had you not attacked me, maybe we could have talked about it like adults.”

Like adults. Speaking to you like a child and he lifted your chin to face him, like you wouldn’t speak unless spoken to. “Now, let’s finish this.”

“...Alright.” Some called it Stockholm syndrome or sympathising with your captor. 

You called it playing the long game, because as soon as he trusted you enough to leave the apartment, you were gone.

And you’d make sure this time he would never find you.

-----

“Can you pass the salt, Darling?”

Ten months. Fifteen days and nineteen hours.

Kento Nanami didn’t let you go.

You guess you were just desensitised, numb to this dire situation, trying your damnedest to play the part of loving partner until you were certain you could leave. Sometimes you actually started to believe it, a fleeting thought that you shook away to remind you of all the damage the bastard had done to you.

Anyone who knew you must have assumed you were dead.

“Here you go.”

You picked up the salt and handed from one end of the table and next to Kento who was to the left of you. It was hard not to struggle to push past the intrusive thoughts like overhanging branches, holding back the urge to launch it at his head, or shove it down his throat and laugh whilst his friend watched on in horror. 

Satoru Gojo started coming by the apartment for the last few months now, coming once or twice a week for dinner and talking of business and boring stuff you never took time to listen to. 

It was a test. A test to see whether you had learned your lesson or would jump at the opportunity to get away and tell Gojo everything. You didn’t dare make a move, but it wasn’t because you assumed Kento would catch you in the act of escape using a man you didn’t know. It was because you assumed Gojo was in on the whole thing and would sell you out.

He must have been. No one could have enough to talk about the same subject for two hours over dinner each time. And most of it, Gojo didn’t really acknowledge you. 

You kept quiet most of the time, it could be that. There was a fine line between overdoing it and appearing like you were there against your will and it took time, but you pretty much had it down by now.

Starting down at your plate, you forced yourself to eat something. Dinners like this never gave you an appetite, just sitting more or less in silence with Kento’s hand plastered on your thigh the entire time. 

Gojo put his cutlery down and turned his head towards you. This dinner was different. “So, enough boring stuff tonight, we're about to close this deal and I think the countless over time we’ve gotten has given us enough work talk. Let’s hear more about you, do you work?”

Like Kento would even allow that. He didn’t even let you speak when Gojo addressed you, in fact he placed his hand over your thigh. “She doesn’t. But we were thinking of starting a family soon, weren’t we, Darling?”

Hiding your spluttering in your glass was difficult, though Gojo didn’t seem to notice. Kento’s fingers dug in, squeezed just enough to give you a cue, just like all the other times you were expected to agree with him.

“Yeah…” What the fuck. “Soon.”

Gojo smiled, grinned more like. “Wow, that’s awesome. I never expected the two of you goin’ for that step just yet, you've been together, what, a year?”

“The time is right. You’ll know when your time is when you stop being a bachelor.” His response wasn’t a dig like it sounded. It was more just a defensive comment, a way to tell Gojo to back off without actually telling him.

Holding his hands up, Gojo chuckled. “Woah, there’s nothin’ wrong with not settling down. Why stay with one person? That calls for commitment.”

Kento got increasingly defensive and jealous if Gojo was even in close proximity to you. But now he was actually acknowledging you, it wasn’t clear how this was going to go. One thing you knew was true was that there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would ever have children with this maniac.

You were going to be out of this place before there was even a chance.

“When will you ever grow up?”

“Eh… Maybe in like twenty years and I go through my midlife crisis.” Gojo looked at you once more with a smile sweeter than honey. “Is he always this grumpy? Maybe you’re going through a midlife crisis already, Nanami.”

He was grumpy and far too serious. Knowing that was all on the surface and the chance that Gojo would not have encountered the side of Kento you saw every day twisted large knots and lumps in your stomach.

Again, Kento cut you off before you managed to get a word out. “I think it’s important to know what you want in life, cruising won’t get you anywhere.”

His hand moved and pulled the material of your dress up to expose the skin of your thigh, the pad of his thumb caressing there absentmindedly. So close, you could take the knife from the table and stab it straight through his hand, or his wrist enough to draw blood and distract him to get away.

But then how would you deal with Gojo?

“Goals are important.” You said, placing your cutlery down and being acutely aware of Gojo’s lingering stare.

Remain calm. Get involved. 

“They are.” Kento’s hand relaxed. “I also think that dessert is important too. I won’t be a moment.”

He cleared the table and took the plates away and all you wanted to do was breathe into a paper bag. Kento never got dessert.

You did.

“Hey.” Gojo's voice was only a whisper, waving his hand a little to get your attention. “Are you alright?” 

It was a test. This was a test to see if you really had accepted the life Kento gave you. You wanted to be honest and ask for his help though how could you? This life made you distrust anyone that came to you. The old woman in the lobby, a delivery guy who noticed you from the doorway in the corner of the living room, and everyone who didn’t try to find you.

“Yep.” Nodding helped convince yourself.

“He isn’t mistreating you, right?” Fuck it really was a trap.

“No. I love him.” You forced the bile in your throat to stay as it was.

He didn’t seem convinced and fiddled with his napkin, making a glance towards the kitchen every so often. “If you need anything. You can trust me.” 

Yeah right. You couldn’t trust him as far as you could throw him.

“I’m fine.”

You thought about that interaction the entire duration until Gojo was leaving. He made little discreet glances towards you as he ate his dessert, talking away and entertaining Kento like nothing had happened. Part of you wished you had told him the truth, taking a leap of faith just in case he was trusting, the other part criticised you for even thinking that. If Kento caught wind of it, you would have no luck getting out. 

Next time you left, Kento wouldn’t be so forgiving if he caught you.

“Gojo sure seemed friendly with you tonight.” The door hadn’t even fully closed after his friend left for the night. 

Fiddling with the little belt of your dress settled your nerves for just a second. “I think he was just being polite.”

Kento didn’t look at you right away, but turned and moved past you through the apartment. “Come to bed.”

The dishes were piled up in the sink, cleaning the dishes on your own was the only time you got to yourself really if Kento was in the apartment. “The dishes-”

“I said come to bed.”

Like a mouse you were, trudging behind him and following to the bedroom. Perhaps that cable hanging out the outlet was enough to hook over his head and choke him to the point of passing out? It would take a while and you were hardly in shape to even try and take him on, but you were getting desperate.

Kento got on the bed and leant his back against the headboard, he tapped his lap and invited you over. Maybe I could try something like how I used the lamp again?  

Fat chance. That day, the one you almost escaped, he took every lamp, picture frame and heavy ornament that wasn’t nailed down and threw it all out. Like you had stated before, he was an intelligent man and learned incredibly fast, so fast you couldn’t keep up.

He seemed to enjoy it when you straddled him and sat there over his legs so he could see you, study you like a portrait in an art gallery. Sometimes he would sit and look at you for what seemed a lifetime while you twiddled your fingers and looked anywhere but his direction.

He might have been thinking of all the ways he loved you. You only thought about ways you’d hurt him, end him for good so he could only plague your nightmares.

Kento was studying you right now with his hand on your thigh just like before. “Maybe we should start a family right now. I don’t think we should wait-”

“N-no.” Your facade slipped for a second and his expression changed. Angry. “I mean… we’re in a one bedroom apartment.”

It took you off guard completely, never anticipating that it could be a sentence slipping his lips tonight. He really was deranged and how he never saw that you were less than honest with your responses eluded you.

“And?” He spoke so sure like it was already decided. 

Quick, think of anything and don’t fuck it up.  

“There’s no room for a baby, we should look for somewhere with an extra room, right?” You couldn’t have a child with this man, even if you got away, he would be tied to you for years. 

“You do want a child with me, don’t you?” Would he now see through your lie enough to undo all of the trust you had built with him?

“Yes. I do, yes. But everything has to be right, we need more room.”

He nodded, it worked? Holy fuck . “Let’s try anyway, it could take a while and we have plenty of time to find a house or bigger apartment, I could buy it outright, actually.”

Wait, what? There was nothing you could say, nothing that could diffuse it without getting him getting suspicious of your loyalty to him. You already sensed his hands moving your dress and there was already his growing hardness between your legs.

“You agree, finally. I’ve wanted to bring this up for a while but I was sure you’d say no. You really have settled in, haven’t you?”

So you gained his trust enough and he believed your lies, but at what cost? This wasn’t a win at all, another dead end that you couldn’t dig yourself out of without undoing all the hard work you did.

Change of plans, there wasn’t time anymore to plan and wait, you’d need to find an opening soon to get out for good before this shit show went any further. 

Kento pulled at your dress and got it over your head to which you weren’t wearing anything underneath. So naturally, you pulled your arms back to cover yourself. He held them fast, gripping at the wrists, not entirely hard enough to hurt, but it stung all the same. 

“You’re beautiful, Darling. Don’t hide yourself.”

Holding your arms he pulled you close and sucked your nipple, licking in ways that should have felt good, but being desensitised and numb took that all away from you. You remembered to make some noises and avoided overdoing it, no one that hated someone's guts would get that much enjoyment.

“Good girl.”

You played the part and moved your hips over his cock and it garnered a rough inhale from him. Full on ass rubbing him slowly, sensually like you actually cared about him. Since your first time despite his big talk before that, Kento had always gone slow as though he was afraid to break you like you were made of glass.

Something changed enough to throw you off guard, an almost animalistic nature that Kento had not displayed in the bedroom before. He was rough and firm, almost rushing to pull his belt loose and get the zip down to pull his hardened erection out.

“Let’s start the rest of our lives together… and then I’ll know.” He spat on his hand and rubbed the length of his cock.

“Know what- fuck” He pressed himself inside you, slowly at first so you could adjust. It still stung.

“Then I’ll know you haven’t been lying to me this whole time.” This was the test? There was no way you could back out now.

And it went on like that, most nights. Kento fucking you senseless until he was satisfied, filling you up a few times with the stamina of a horse. If you were lucky, you’d finish quickly enough to get it all out of the way to finish the night, but even then he didn’t leave you alone, he cuddled you until he fell asleep.

You often stayed up thinking about ways to get out, to hurt him just like you always did one thousand times in the day, and you didn’t dare to move a muscle because it would wake him up.

It always woke him up.

Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d die in his sleep. If only.

Weeks went past and finally you managed Kento to allow you out to look for somewhere bigger to live. Instead of trying to stop it, you figured if you appeared eager, there might have been some leeway. And you were right on the money.

The first time you left the apartment in months, almost a year and Kento was still sceptical. You noticed a mile away so many gaps to leave the first time, fighting the urge to take the bait, a wide open door or Kento would simply leave the room.

So fucking hard not to scream at the realtor that you were kidnapped and this horrifying man who claimed to be your husband was mad, insane and deranged with his fucked up ideals on love.

But you didn’t. You bided your time, though anxious due to the time limit you had. It was agony until one day you had your chance. An apartment on the main street of the city you pushed for, claiming it was ideal and close to schools for this imaginary baby. You wanted to vomit.

Kento was distracted. In the next room talking away to the realtor, but on this day, there was another one. A team of two because the other couple coming to view the apartment didn’t show.

“The open planned kitchen is very in right now.” They waffled on and all you could do was dart your eyes back and forth to the other room, the pit of your stomach flipping with growing adrenaline.

With your heart thumping in your throat, it was time. “If you don’t mind, I left something in the car, I’m going to head down quickly. If my husband asks where I am, just tell him I won’t be long.”

She nodded and continued her walk around the kitchen with a clipboard behind her back in her hands. You practically ran to the door and opened it faster than you should have, but took a moment to leave it ajar without a noise.

 One step, two steps, then you ran, sprinting down the hall to the elevator with an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu only this time the elevator doors opened immediately. You back hit the wall flush and whilst the doors closed, your eyes trained on that apartment door.

He’s coming out, he will and he’ll lock me up. He’s going to know. 

He didn’t emerge, there was no movement at all by that door, not even a dramatic scene where the last thing you saw was him running towards you. Nothing. You wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but you just couldn’t.

Kento Nanami was an intelligent man and he would figure it out eventually. If not already.

You weren’t sure where you would go with no money or phone, but anywhere was better than here. The elevator doors opened and you held a breath just waiting for him to be there and he wasn’t. 

Run. Fucking run. 

Out of the lobby and into the apartment complex car park, past Kento’s car and out back into the world. The plan. That was the plan. You made sure to look behind you every so often, you would see him before he saw you and then you could hide.

“Woah, easy there.” You weren’t looking and bumped into someone.

“G-gojo…” Another fucking test. It was a test, a stupid test.

Another fucking test! You were right not to trust Gojo. Before you could pull away he took you by the shoulders. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What are you doing here; let me go I need to leave-”

“What happened?” His voice dropped, more commanding than you had ever heard.

“No let me go- let me go I can’t go back there; please don’t do this! What are you even doing here; he told you to come didn’t he?!” He was built like a bulldozer, no matter how much you fought he didn’t move.

“Woah, woah listen to me. He asked me here because we were going out for dinner after.” It didn’t calm you, but you listened. Stupidly. “What happened- I was right… wasn’t I?”

He had a look of concern, not something like he was in on it, but that still didn’t mean you were going to trust him. “He took me, he took me away from everyone. I'm not his girlfriend and I just want to get home. He’s crazy!”

“Shh. Stop shouting or you’ll draw attention.” And under his breath he muttered. “I fucking knew something was up with him… Not again.” 

Not… again? Who else had he done this to?

“Here, take my keys and get in the car. Lock the doors. I’ll sort this out.” As stated he handed you the keys and made his way towards the apartment complex without another word.

You contemplated running, taking his keys so he couldn’t follow you. Deciding against that, you climbed in the car and locked the doors, Kento certainly wouldn’t be able to get to you now and Gojo was without a car.

The downside was you couldn’t drive. And stealing a car would land you in jail… Jail was an option, Kento certainly couldn’t get you there. You shoved the car keys in your hand and let the keys poke out between your fingers while they shook in anticipation.

Gojo being on your side didn’t sit right.

Kento will come out at any moment. Gojo will be too with a smile on his face because it's all a ruse, a joke. They’ll take me back to that stupid apartment and never let me out. 

But that didn’t happen either, Kento hadn’t even come out of the complex after Gojo went in. In fact the only thing that changed in that parking lot in what was a lifetime to you was blue flashing lights.

A knock on the glass that made you yelp.

���Can you open up?” Gojo, looking worse for wear and a bloodied lip.

You didn’t want to, you didn’t. “No… no because you’ll send me back I know it!”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Look…” You followed his hand, pointing away from him. "He can't hurt you anymore; he can't hurt anyone."

Kento came out, in handcuffs. Escorted by three police officers.

“Just… open the door, alright? The police, they’ll want a statement.” 

Nothing could happen if the police were just there and Gojo did look concerned. They must have fought up there in the apartment, and the realtors probably witnessed everything.

Were you safe now? You opened the door and Gojo held out a hand to help you up and you took it. Kento didn’t notice you, his head was down and he, from what you could see, looked even worse than Gojo.

“I won’t hurt you. Please don’t think I’m not on your side.”

So that was it? It was all over just like that and it didn’t seem like the win you thought it was. You weren’t going to be free of him completely, not for a while although Kento couldn’t be anywhere near you in a locked up cell.

That was good enough for now.

Kento Nanami couldn’t keep you anymore. But he'd still always be sitting in the back of your mind.

He was a demon in living form.

Tag - @yourhornysister

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[vampireimiko]

Adam Warlock (with a vampire reader) !!

warnings, none 🧟

note, i kinda hate this one guys 🙁

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Adam disagrees with the plan to kill all vampires completely. Sure, the species had malevolent vampires but it also has benevolent ones, such as you! If Tony and Marc were to go through with killing the innocent undead, that would be a grave injustice in his eyes.

"Genocide is not a solution, Stark," Adam states firmly, eyes glowing with defiance. "You cannot punish an entire species for the sins of a few."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Tony and Moonknight are eventually able to come to their senses and actually wrap their head around what to do. They admit that they saw the Montesi formula as the most efficient way to get rid of Dracula and his loyalists. Not once did they consider the value of individual lives, and the importance of targeted actions over broad measures.

“Alright, I get it,” Tony says with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples. “We were looking at the Montesi formula as a one-size-fits-all solution without thinking about the bigger picture. But there’s no easy fix for this, is there?”

Marc, though still conflicted, nods in agreement. “I didn’t consider how many innocent ones would be wiped out. That’s on me.”

┊ ➶ ｡˚ °  Once Tony and Marc have come to terms with the gravity of the situation, Adam takes the opportunity to pull you aside, guiding you to a quieter, more secluded area where you can talk away from the others.

"How long has it been since you've fed?" He asked gently with his golden hand caressing your cheek.

"It doesn't- I mean it's...been a few days now," you admit, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to worry him too much. You know how he feels about you keeping your strength in check, especially when it’s been a while since you’ve fed.

"You need to take care of yourself, love. We’ll figure this out. We’ll handle everything without resorting to unnecessary violence, okay?"

He steps closer, placing a hand gently on your shoulder. "But you can’t keep pushing yourself. It’s not just about the fight we’re facing now. You have to keep your strength up."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He’s incredibly protective, even if he doesn’t always show it emotionally. If anyone so much as implies that you’re just like Dracula’s minion, Adam will shut them down immediately.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° In sweet private moments, he’s gentle, his concern never far from the surface. "I know you don’t want to show weakness," he tells you softly, "but you don’t have to hide it from me. I’ll always be here, especially when you need to recharge." His voice is full of warmth and care, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° All in all, Adam cares for you very deeply and will do anything in his cosmic power to see that harm, in no shape or form comes to you 🫶🏽

additional note ! i tried my best to capture exactly what you meant in this anon !! 😭 i don't feel like i executed this as well as i would've liked

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[holylulusworld]

Double the love

Summary: Two for the price of one.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Mafia!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, betrayal, lies, secrets, arguments, kinda kidnapping, a little violence/mentions of violence

Catch up here: Fool me twice & Double the trouble

Back at your apartment, you’re fuming. It could’ve been such a nice day if not for Nick and Bucky ruining it from the start. You didn’t even get the chance to have breakfast in silence. No. They had to grab you and storm out of the diner.

“So, you told your brother to watch over me only for your enemies to find out you both want me?” You cross your arms over your chest and glare at both men. They invaded not only your life but your small apartment too. “Good job, Mr. Barnes. You protected me very well. Not only from getting fucked by a stranger but your enemies too.”

Nick huffs. He expected as much. “Colibri, let us explain.”

“Yeah, explain to me that you led your enemies, stone-cold killers on top of all, straight to my place.” You pout and angrily stomp your foot when Nick dares to grab the ugly bear he won for you at the fair.  “Hey, take your hands off, Mr. Bear!”

“You kept it.” Nick grins while his brother is pacing the room. Bucky is about to just grab you and run. He doesn’t have time to explain that their enemies could strike at any moment.

“It accidentally ended up in my suitcase,” you lie, and look away. Nick doesn’t need to know that you can’t sleep without the ugly bear. “Now give it back!”

“Why?” He holds it above his head and smirks. “If you don’t want anything reminding you of our time together, we can just throw it away.”

“Give it back.” You jump up, trying the grab the bear. “I’m warning you!” You angrily kick his shin. He yelps and drops the bear. “I warned you.”

Bucky laughs loudly. “You let her kick you?” He snorts. “That’s what you get for messing with her bear.”

“That’s what you get for messing with me, Barnes,” you growl in Bucky’s direction. “Now get out of my apartment!”

“Doll, I told you on our way here that we cannot leave you. One of our enemies knows about you, Y/N. He will hurt you or worse get back at Nick and me. Please don’t put yourself in danger by sending us away.”

If your mom didn’t raise you better, you’d love to yell at Bucky, or at least give him the stinky eye. You pucker your lips instead and glare at Bucky.

“I didn’t put myself in danger!” You raise your voice. “You put me in danger. Why couldn’t you leave me alone? Why pretending to be someone else, and letting that pervert watch over me.”

Nick looks offended at your words. Usually, he’d put you over his lap and spank your ass. He hums and bites his lower lip because he can’t put his hands on you. Not now, and not in front of his brother.

“What do you expect me to do now,” you huff, annoyed because the brothers ruined your fresh start too. “I can’t just drop everything and run. I built a new life in this little town.”

“Baby doll, you don’t have to run,” Bucky softly says while stepping closer to you. He gets closer and closer until he can wrap his arms around your waistline. “Now, Nick. We’ve got no choice.”

“Remember, this was your idea,” Nick grumbles. He gets a syringe out, murmuring an apology as you throw insults at both men. You wiggle in Bucky’s grip and growl at Nick. “Sorry, Colibri. It’s for the best. Rumlow and his allies are on their way here. We only try to protect you.”

“I’ll kill you all,” you grunt and slap the bear in Bucky’s face. “I dare you to poke me with that thing.” You’re furious and try to get away from the syringe. “I hate needles…I hate them.”

“If you agree to come with us, we don’t need the needle,” Bucky purrs your name. He nuzzles his face in your neck, sighing as you try to fend Nick off with the bear. “I know you’re angry at us, but please let us protect you.”

You hold still for a second, eyes darting from Nick to the syringe and Bucky.

“Get away from me with that needle.” Lips pursed you prepare yourself to go for a sprint the moment Bucky releases you. “I’ll let you explain things if you put the needle away.”

Nick looks at his brother. He’d hate to use the syringe. It’s worse enough that you hate him now and won’t even look at him for longer than a moment. “Buck?”

“Okay, doll. I’ll let you go, and we will sit on the sofa and talk. I’m sorry we tried to do it the easy way.” Bucky slowly releases you. He steps away and nods at his brother. “Let’s talk then.”

You flash Nick a smile before you bolt toward the door. Fingertips touching the door handle, you giggle. You tricked them well and will just start anew somewhere else.

“Bad move, Colibri.” This time, Nick wraps his arm around your waistline. “I thought we were making progress. Do you want me to spank your ass for being a bad girl?”

You whimper. “No…”

“Would you look at our great escapist, Nick,” Bucky purrs your name, and steps closer to cup your cheek. “Doll, I’m disappointed.” You curse his name and threaten to cut off his cock. “Now let’s not use these words.” Bucky softly kisses your cheek. “We only want to talk.”

They had to use the syringe on you because you tried to escape more than once. Now you sit in the living room of Bucky’s place, calling them names. With your arms crossed over your chest, you watch them warily.

“Assholes! You used the syringe,” you snap at them. “How could you?”

“You tried to stab me with a cactus,” Nick mutters. “That hurt, Colibri. You didn’t have to poke my ass with it.”

“I hope there are holes in your ass now,” you grin victoriously at Bucky because he didn’t get away easily either. He’s got a black eye, and his hair is missing a few strands. 

“Doll, stop this now,” Bucky raises his voice. He pokes your nose with his index finger, smirking. “We promised to tell you everything, and we will.”

“I hope you’ll get bald.” It’s childish, but you feel like you won because you got the two mobsters good.

Bucky cups your face, thumb running over your lower lip. “You’re dangerous, and not nice. Where is the sweet girl I fell in love with?”

“Maybe she doesn’t like getting tricked, or called girl,” you say, glaring at Bucky. “I only wanted to live my life without getting fucked over by you and your brother. Now you stole that from me too. Just like my dream of the future with you got destroyed. All I got is double the trouble.”

“Baby doll,” Bucky whispers your name and leans closer. “You got double the love too.”

Tags in reblog.

[lis-likes-fics]

All the Things I Hate About You

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader Word Count: 11.5k words Warnings: Swearing, torture, violence, kidnapping, enemies to lovers... A/N: This was actually really fun to write. I forgot I had this idea for months until I was looking through my wips and saw the planning completely finished. Anyway, here it is and I hope you enjoy!

The bar is quite busy tonight. It's full of patrons talking and laughing and carrying on in classic New Orleans style. Nights like these are always nice, especially when it's between you and Klaus, this time with the added company of Marcel, as you bring the lip of your bourbon to your own, smiling around the glass.

You chuckle into the cup at one of Klaus’ quips, raising a finger at him and wiping your bottom lip. You're about to speak when your attention diverts to the door at the sound of a ringing bell.

Your face falls.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, putting your hand down and wrapping it around your glass again.

Looking toward the source of your new frustration, Klaus can't help his chuckle. “Now, now, dove,” he bids, swirling the contents of his glass. “Do not let his intrusion sour your mood. I'm sure he has a good reason for being here. Don't you, big brother?”

You all look at the man in question as Elijah places his hand on the back of his brother's chair. He disregards you altogether, and somehow that's more frustrating than him showing up in the first place.

“Niklaus, we need to talk,” he says, turning his head toward him with a clenched jaw.

You whine, leaning forward and letting your head fall to the table with a dull thump. “But the night was just getting good.” Marcel laughs at you.

Amused, Klaus raises a brow. “About?”

Elijah finally spares you a sliver of attention as his eyes dart toward you, narrowed to slits. “Privately,” he insists.

Klaus rolls his eyes, uninterested and ready to shift his attention back to you. “We can talk about the eternal crisis of my soul’s redemption another day, Elijah. For now,” he looks at you, smirking devilishly, ���we were just headed to this cute little place around the corner for a bite.”

You aren't a vampire, but you've never had an issue with encouraging his less-than-innocent activities. In fact, through the course of your friendship, Klaus has found that you enjoy indulging in vampiric lifestyles. He found that you lack a certain morality most humans tend to hold when it comes to the supernatural. It's one of his favorite things about you—you're not obsessed with saving his immortal soul.

But Elijah does not sympathize.

“I'm sure you've had plenty of ‘bites’ today,” he says, shooting you a glare.

Preening under his attention—however negative it may be—you continue. “Yeah, well, bite me. You're ruining the fun.”

His gaze unwavering, Elijah continues to glare. “Oh, I just might.”

You scoff, turning your body more towards him. “I'm not afraid of you.”

He's so used to being feared, but you've never feared him for a moment—it's another one of those things he hates about you.

He takes a step closer to you, and you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. You don't falter, even as he speaks. “I don't need you to be afraid in order to be lethal, sweetling.”

It's very derogative, the way he says it. All of his pet names toward you are. You're sure he thinks you hate it, but—of all his insults—it's one of your favorites.

Marcel and Klaus watch on, enjoying the scene as much as you as the both of you stare the other down. Your gazes are unwavering, a game of dominance which you have a clear disadvantage in—though that's never stopped you before.

“Uh-oh,” Marcel grins, bringing his glass to his lips. He chuckles as he glances at Klaus, who does the same. “It's gonna be a cat fight.”

But when nothing happens, and you continue to stare, Klaus sighs as he lounges in his chair. “What is it that cannot wait, brother?”

It takes a moment for him to finally respond, to tear his eyes away from you and look back at his little brother. “Supernatural business,” he says plainly.

“You mean supernatural drama,” Marcel corrects. “Spill.”

Raising a brow, Elijah's eyes, one again, fall back to you—as though he couldn't resist looking away for more than a moment. “You could probably ‘spill’ yourself, couldn't you?”

You sigh. “To be honest,” you stretch and turn back to your drink, “I'm just trying to get drunk, and your presence is unnervingly sobering.” You take a sip, your eyes still watching him as you do.

Taking every opportunity to spite you, he hums. “Good.”

Marcel refocuses. “What kind of drama?”

Again, Elijah turns away. “The kind that includes a vampire dead in the Quarter.”

You lift your chin, remembering as your lips form an “oh” and you return to your drink.

Marcel, ever annoyed by Mikaelson and Co. mischief, turns to you and Klaus with an immense amount of exhaustion. “You killed one of my guys?”

You raise your hands. “To be completely fair, he was just a tourist.”

“To be completely fair,” Elijah echoes, “he was visiting family, a group of residents here. Now they are threatening to break the peace.”

“That is…quite unfortunate,” Klaus sighs. He stands then, patting Elijah back in a chummy way. “However, I don't know how much I care. This place was becoming rather tedious anyway.”

Elijah is exhausted by all of this. “And I'm sure the same can be said for your human companion.”

You raise your hands in defense. “Don't look at me! He catcalled me, all I did was punch him really hard in the face.”

Klaus nods. “Yes, and I was the one to gut him and string up his corpse in a tree like a Christmas ornament.”

“Before I suggested that we leave him someplace not so out in the open,” you nod, “because humans tend to panic.”

Elijah clenches his jaw. “Of course.”

There are many reasons Elijah doesn't like you.

For one, you seem to have no care or respect for other people's lives. You're just as bad as Niklaus, you may as well be slaughtering these people yourself.

Your encouragement in his brother's misdeeds, entirely contrary to Elijah's attempts at helping his brother, are so frustrating. It makes his job a lot harder when he's got this other voice in his head telling him that it's okay to snap his neck, as long as you put some nice beads and sunglasses on him so he looks cool.

Then there's your sass. You always have some sly comeback, another thing to add to conversation that doesn't need to be contributed.

If it didn't stop there, your eyes. You're always looking at him, always challenging him. You stare him down, your gaze unwavering. You watch his every move just to find something to pick apart.

And you're never scared of him. Never. You have no problem with talking back to this man. He could kill you in a moment, and you could do nothing to stop him. But you don't even consider that possibility, you're too busy being–

“Okay, I'm calling it a night,” Marcel stands, pulling Elijah from his obsessive thoughts. “I've got business to take care of. Thank you for that.” He says the last part to you and Klaus, dipping his head as a goodbye as he leaves. He pauses by Elijah, not meaning his words but—fuck, he's tired. “Couldn't have waited a few more hours?”

You groan, looking up at Klaus. “We don't have to go, do we?”

Klaus shrugs. “So long as you don't get hurt, I don't see why we should.”

You stand, taking one last sip from your drink as you smile. “Great.” You link arms with Klaus, patting Elijah's chest, even as he rolls his eyes. “Buh-bye now.”

Elijah turns as the two of you are leaving, his firm voice stopping the both of you as he continues to glare. “Niklaus,” he says. “We need to talk.”

Klaus lets go of your arm and walks back toward his brother. “You need a drink, my friend,” he suggests. He puts an arm on his shoulders and points toward a woman at the bar. She's sitting on her own, a finger tracing the lip of her glass. “I'm sure that lovely lady there would certainly be happy to help you.”

He pats his chest, smiling slyly. “Cheers.”

Klaus takes your arm again, and you wiggle your fingers in goodbye at Elijah. He huffs gently, shaking his head and deciding he may actually need a drink.

~

“Niklaus!”

You groan, laying your head on the table as Elijah's graining voice reverberates through the courtyard. You lay a hand over your head trying to ease the pain throbbing in the back of your skull.

“Could you be any louder?” you grumble, the pain too great to add the malice you intend.

Elijah comes to a stop, not bothering to look at you as his eyes scan the mezzanine. “It's your own fault,” he mutters.

“How charming,” you sigh. He's the brother meant to have manners. You lean your head up to look at him through the dark lenses of your glasses.

“Where is Niklaus?” he questions, finally looking down at you.

You shrug, massaging your temples to ease your migraine. “Probably eating some wayward college girls to spite you.”

He hums, fixing the collar of his sleeve. “Oh, are some of your friends in town?”

Despite the pain in your skull, you laugh, looking up at him. “I like this narrative in your head that the bad influence in this relationship is the helpless mortal rather than the immortal big bad wolf who is literally known for murder and mayhem.” You smile, giggling lightly. “It makes me sound like a mastermind.”

He looks toward you. “The only mastery you've achieved is in ruthless schemes against my sanity.”

“Oh,” you nod. “All good things then.”

Rather than answer you, he yells. “Niklaus!”

You're abusing your temples at this point as you try to ease the pain. “Fuck you,” you spit, resting your head down again.

He smirks. “I'm sure you would love to. Fortunately, I have more interesting things to take care of.”

You hum, your voice muffled by the table. “Dunno what your problem is.”

He's growing impatient at Klaus’ tardiness to his calls, but it seems eased at the prospect of taunting you. “I've got only a handful of issues, and your name  is plastered all over 98% of them. Ni-klaus!”

There are many reasons you don't like Elijah.

For one, he always seems to show up when you don't need him to. He's a buzz kill, a sour puss, and a pain in the ass.

And, for an Original, he seems to have a strange distaste for havoc. All you ever really wanted to do was have fun, and he never seemed to sympathize.

You grew up in this city, fully aware of the fact that it was crawling with the supernatural. You grew with it, and you grew into it, and now you hold ideals more aligned with that of the vampires of the Quarter, rather than the humans of the city, desensitized from death and pain and sorrow and indulging instead in the highs and adrenaline rushes of being freed from such moralities. You've never had an issue with that.

But for a woman who'd grown in the heart of the city he loved, Elijah seemed to hate your guts.

If that wasn't enough, his penchant for immaculacy drove you mad, there was no reason to find that much stress in being a little disorganized. Hell, your whole life was practically a disorganized mess, but he doesn't see you spiraling.

And his fucking face disgusted you. The way he watched you, so closely, tracking every movement. His eyes hardly left you, and when they did, it was simply to show you how little you were to him. But you just kept staring. He wanted you to be afraid of him, but you aren't. And you'll never be.

You want him to know that. You know it ticks him off.

Klaus comes to your rescue, but not without an infliction of his own as he arrives at the mezzanine. “Alright! Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm here.” He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes as he looks down at the both of you in the courtyard. “Now what are you so insistent on telling me?”

Elijah squares his jaw. “Walk with me.”

Klaus groans. “Must we?”

True to his fashion, rather than answer, Elijah simply turns and begins walking. As he disappears, you lift your head, pushing your sunglasses further up your nose. “Good luck with that one,” you mumble, pointing in Elijah's direction. You look after him as Klaus descends the steps. “He's especially pissy.”

Klaus comes next to you, pushing some hair behind your ear. “Do you have something to do with that?”

You smile a bit. “Don't I always?”

Klaus laughs, tapping the tip of your nose with his finger and laughing some more when you wipe it. He fishes a little bottle of Tylenol from his pocket and sets it in front of you as he makes his way toward the front, leaving you to your misery as you rest your head back down on the table.

You snatch the bottle, clutching it like golden treasure.

~

Your migraine is gone by the time they return. You've still got your sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, but it's more for fashion than it is comfort now. Your music is practically blasting through the courtyard, and the brothers walk in to see you dancing to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys.

Why? Why not?

“Oh,” Elijah sighs, raising a brow and glancing away. “It dances.”

You turn, taking off the sunglasses and pausing your music. You point at him with the pair, “Aren't you supposed to be a feminist or something?”

Klaus laughs at your antics and simply brushes past you. You wave tauntingly at Elijah and follow Klaus up the steps as you both leave him by his lonesome.

“So what did you talk about?” you ask once he's out of sight. You weave your hand through his arm and smile up at him. “Was it little ole me?” You shoot him a charming grin.

He chuckles, “As always.”

He shrugs, continuing down the hall with you happily on his arm. You and Klaus have been joined at the hip since you met just a little after he moved back to the city. He's your best friend, as you are his. You adore this man, though many try to warn you of his danger.

But you like the danger. You practically live and breathe the supernatural. Whether you should be afraid or not, you aren't. It's in your veins as though you were one of them already.

“What about?” you hum.

“You and your terrible influence.” He turns into Hope's room, pushing the door open and walking further inside as he looks around.

“I'm just cool like that,” you say. Glancing around, you furrow your brow. “What are you doing?”

“Hayley called,” he says simply. He turns over a blanket to look underneath it. “Apparently she forgot one of Hope's favorite toys when she was last here. She refuses to take her nap without it, needs me to retrieve it for her.”

You walk toward the bed, picking up a powder pink pillow and seeing the little pastel blue bunny underneath it, its floppy ears lazy at the sides of its head.

“Isn't this it?”

You show it off to him, wiggling it to make its arms flop around. Klaus nods, taking the offered creature. “That, it is.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice to a whisper to avoid Elijah's prying ears. “Why don't you come with me, and we can ditch the police downstairs.”

You smile wide, whispering back at him. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He offers his hand. You take it.

The both of you take one of the many “secret” exits of the building, ditching Elijah in the courtyard to go have some real fun. He takes you to one of the back entrances, where it’s a little darker and you’re surrounded by brick. Klaus opens the gate and steps onto the street, and as you go behind him to cross the threshold–

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

You furrow your brow at the resistance that meets the toe of your shoe. Raising a hand, you reach forward…

“Klaus, I can't get out,” you say as you press it against air, and you press hard. But to no avail…

“What do you mean?” he asks.

You make a face ‘What do you think I mean?’ You slap your hand against the force again, and nothing. “There's something keeping me from leaving.”

Hoping your teasing, he reaches for your hand and is immediately stopped from doing so. “What the hell?” he mutters.

“You think it's trouble?”

Klaus sighs, exhaustion slipping into his tone. “When isn't it?”

A gush of air whips behind you and suddenly Elijah is at your side, facing his brother. “We're sealed in.”

You roll your eyes, “We kind of figured that out already.”

He furrows his brows at Klaus, raising a hand to the barrier. “You're not trapped?” he questions.

Klaus raises his hands and lets them drop at his sides. “As it seems.”

“Shit,” you whisper. You shake your head, turning to face both of them as you sink into your “something-is-wrong-how-do-we-fix-it” mode, well-versed in the world of Mikaelson drama by this point. “What do we do?”

Klaus retrieves his phone from his back pocket. “I'll figure something out. You stay here.” He turns to leave. You roll your eyes at his back.

“Don't have much of a choice.”

“Try not to kill each other before I get back,” he says as he leaves.

You groan, leaning against the barrier dramatically. “Don't leave me here!” He ignores you.

You sigh, grumbling as you turn to face Elijah. “Wonderful.”

“I'm not exactly thrilled myself.”

You turn to leave him, walking away back toward the courtyard where the stairs are. Elijah follows you, walking behind.

And as you reach the stairs, still he walks behind.

“You're following me,” you point out, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“I'm not following you.”

You pick up the pace up the stairs. “Yes, you are.” It's almost fun, the senseless bickering. Like children. If only it were that simple…

“We are going in the same direction,” he states, rolling his eyes when you keep looking over your shoulder at the top of the stairs.

“Go away!” you exclaim, disappearing into Klaus’ room. He continues walking, grumbling to himself as he carries on to his own.

Closing the door behind you, you're almost disappointed. But you remember that you don't like him. You aren't friends. He isn't going to humor you, and you won't humor him either.

You plop down on the bed, laying back with your arms sprawled out like a bird. You stare at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do trapped in the compound with naught to do but stare at the ceiling.

And you're bored.

You pull your phone out and tap on it, humming to yourself as you do. But that can only sustain you for so long. And you're right. Because it has been exactly five minutes since you closed Klaus’ door, and now you're standing in Elijah's doorway with your arms crossed over your chest.

He doesn't acknowledge you. He's perfectly content to sit there reading, paying you absolutely no mind.

But you can't have that.

“I'm bored.”

He hums, his finger tapping the top corner of his book. “Go do something.”

“I can't, wise guy,” you roll your eyes. You take a step farther into his room. “We're trapped here.”

He doesn't seem to care. “I'm occupied.”

For a moment, you wonder why he's so calm. If you're trapped in the compound, that means there's a witch involved. And if there's a witch involved, that likely means there's another dangerous issue that needs to be solved before someone gets hurt.

But then you remember. He's an Original. If there's an issue, let it come. It won't hurt him.

You look along the shelves in his room, lined with books and belongings. “I'm not,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes and sets his book down. “Why are you here?”

You shrug. You're bored, and you like messing with him. And that's what you tell him: “Because I'm bored, and I like messing with you.”

“You can't stand not being within my presence, is it?”

“Ew, gross!” you exclaim, feeling slightly giddy before you remember that you aren't friends and you, in fact, hate him as he does, you.

To distract yourself from the fondness in your chest, you take a small book off the shelf and toss it at him. He catches it with ease and sets it on the table next to him. Wordlessly, he shoots you a glare to tell you to stop. But you've finally been entertained.

To be fair, this was childish and unnecessary and you really shouldn't have done it. But you're stupid around Elijah, and you're childish and unnecessary because he entertains you and makes you upset and drives you crazy.

So you keep throwing things at him. First, another book. Then one of the expensive and, likely, old knick-knacks on his shelf. Then whatever goes in your hand because he keeps catching them like it's nothing.

“Leave me alone,” he says, his voice firm and final. But you don't listen to him. You never listen to him.

“I'm bored,” you tell him, bracing another book in your hands. If you knew he wouldn't catch it, you wouldn't throw it. “Do something funny.”

You toss it, he catches it. Like clockwork. “I am not here to occupy you. I am here because I have no other choice, as we are trapped. You said to go away. I left. And now you are here tormenting me.”

He's fed up, and you know he is. And it only excites you more. That means he'll react, he'll pay attention to you. He'll look at you. And you can look at him. You love the way he looks when he's frustrated.

“I am here to torment you,” you shrug. “Did you want another book, by the way? I think you might enjoy this one.”

You toss it. Like clockwork. “Stop.”

You should stop. A figurine leaves your hand.

“Stop,” harsher this time. “I will not tell you again.”

You smirk. “Do something about it.” The challenge leaves your lips just as the last book does.

He catches it, and then suddenly you're being pushed up against the wall, your wrists pinned at either side of your head in a tight grip that makes your fingers tingle. You wince as your head hits the brick, not hard enough to really hurt you but hard enough to sting as you bare your teeth.

Your eyes go wide as your gaze locks with his. He's furious, face inches from yours and eyes full of frustration.

For the very first time, you're afraid of Elijah Mikaelson.

“You are behaving like a child.” His voice is low and dangerous, his eyes are dark as they bore into your own, unflinching. But you flinch. Each little syllabus he stresses has you squinting your eyes and wanting to shrink away from him.

You truly understand now how someone like him can inspire so much fear in others.

“If you continue this nonsense, I assure you…” he leans even closer, his words caressing your face in a terrifying way, “I will put an end to it as quickly as it started.” You close your eyes and turn your face slightly away from him as you feel each letter in his words spell out on your cheek. “Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

Silence. Silence fills the air.

The only exception to the quiet suspense lingering in the space between the both of you are his steady breaths and your quivering ones. As you open your eyes and look at him again, you feel like he's stolen the air in the room and the adrenaline pumping through your veins is not out of the excitement of action, but the fear of actually being hurt.

Because he may actually intend on hurting you.

You definitely feel it in the tips of your fingers, going numb with his tightened grip. You feel it in the sting of the back of your skull after it met the brick of his bedroom wall. You feel it in the scrape of your skin against said brick. And as he's met with silence from you, you feel it in the clutch of his hands around your wrist, his thumb pressing into your pulse and forcing your fingers to curl.

You whimper. You actually whimper—a soft and nearly silent little slip of sound from your lips as you force them to part and whisper meekly to him.

“You're hurting me.”

The fog of frustration lifts from his eyes and he immediately seems to come to his senses. In the next second, he's let you go and take several steps away from you. His eyes are a tad bit wider, and his lips are parted.

He hadn't realized he was actually hurting you.

You wince, holding your wrists as you massage them. Elijah notices the way you actually sink into yourself, trying to play it down but so easy to read in his eyes, eyes that watch you at every point he gets.

“Ow,” you whisper. “Jesus.”

Your wrists really hurt. They'll probably bruise. You reach a hand to the back of your head, wincing once again when your fingers brush the tiny bump that may form there, but feel relieved when there is no blood.

You sigh, glancing up at him and taking a couple small steps back. You think you may be standing too close, even still.

Elijah watches you, swallowing thickly. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you.

“I need a drink,” you mumble without the implied, ‘away from you’. Then you roll your eyes, “Oh, wait.”

You hate the feeling being pumped through your system right now. Fear. Fear or Elijah Mikaelson. A man you've never feared in your life. Even for a moment. Suddenly, you're terrified.

Because he may actually hurt you.

Elijah licks his bottom lip and looks down at his shoes. He takes a step back, and then makes a slow and straight path to a cupboard in his bedroom. He opens it, and pulls out a bottle of bourbon he kept hidden away there. In silence he pours two glasses and leaves yours on the edge of the table for you.

Tentatively, you take it.

It takes a moment for the word to form, afraid to vex him again, “...Thanks.”

He hums and says nothing else.

There's another long silence. You bring the glass to your lips and take a generous gulp, letting the alcohol burn down your throat and warm your chest. Elijah does the same.

He holds his glass in his hands, and for a moment you think he looks almost...shy.

He taps his glass, the sound filling the air between you. Without looking up at you, he takes in a gentle breath and speaks.

“Forgive me.”

You look at him. He meets your gaze slowly, making no attempt to step closer but offering all his sincerity. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You scoff lightly. “Your threat said otherwise.”

It's your own fault. You were being unnecessary, you were being stupid…

His voice, though firmer, doesn't betray the softness he'd utilized in his apology before. This is the gentlest you've ever experienced Elijah.

“I would not have hurt you to make you stop.”

“Wouldn't you?” you challenge lightly. You're afraid to provoke him some more.

But his reply is still just as firm. “No.” There's a gravity in his words that you don't have the capacity to dissect right now. “I would not.”

More silence. Longer silence.

You stare at him, taking in the sight of his face, which grows softer and softer as time goes on. Your fear slowly dwindles but it's still there, seemingly ever-present. You should apologize.

“You just…” you look down at the floor, “You just don't seem the type to feel bad about hurting me. You don't seem to like me very much.”

You don't want to sound as pathetic as you feel. Especially at the “don't seem to like me”. It feels so…childish, small, insignificant. You don't like me.

He shrugs, speaks matter-of-factly. “I don't. But I do not hate you, either.”

You scoff again, shaking your head lightly. You don't understand him…

Elijah sighs, moving slowly to take a seat again. He sits at the edge of his chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and he cradles his glass in his hands. “As much as your penchant for wreaking havoc with my brother frustrates me… You do remain his friend.” And he doesn't have many of those.

You chuckle, shaking your head, feeling the conflicts of your emotions and turning it to disdain to make it easier on you.

“Is that why you keep me around?”

“What?”

“You want your baby brother to have a bestie?” You bring the cup to your lips but do not drink yet. “Otherwise I'd have already been dead in an alleyway or something?” You take a sip then, to hide the hurt you feel.

He shakes his head, staring at the contents of his cup. “You say that like I've always hated you.”

You raise a brow. “Haven't you?” You don't understand him.

He actually smiles, shaking his head. “You're so stubborn, aren't you?”

Without missing a beat, “It's my best quality.” You don't reciprocate his smile. As he watches you, his slowly fades anyway.

He looks down at your hands. They're shaking slightly. “You're hurt,” he frowns. “Let me help you.”

You take a step back, “I don't need your help.”

“Please.” He sounds small, non-confrontational. He doesn't sound like him, he sounds almost weak��almost like you.

You think about it, and then you take a breath of courage and relent. “No blood, though,” you mumble, trying to sound light-hearted and failing. You're still a bit shaken.

“God forbid you were healed,” he mumbles as he stands and makes your trade places with him as he sits you with the gentlest touches in his chair. He crouches in front of you and takes your hands in his own, frowning in an almost pained way at the cuts and scrapes that litter the lengths of your forearms. He did this.

Elijah stands, disappears, and reappears with a first-aid kit in his hands. He kneels in front of you once more, taking your hands and covering your skin in ointment and wrapping your wrists carefully with deft fingers.

Almost like he cares about you.

A warm feeling swells in your chest, but you stifle it before it can get too familiar, too comfortable. You take your hands back, holding your wrists gently as you rub your fingers over the bandages. You try not to be sentimental.

“Thanks,” you whisper, hating how weak you sound. You clear your throat and stand. He stands with you, moving slowly so as not to scare you. He doesn't want you to be afraid of him. You are never afraid of him.

“Sorry…” you clear your throat, “about the…throwing things. I overdid it.” You can't look him in the eyes. “It was childish—I'm childish, and I'm sorry.”

“Careful,” the slightest smirk teases his lips. “Someone may think we were actually friends.”

Friends.

“God forbid,” you joke weakly.

As has become natural…there is silence. You're not used to so much silence with him. It's usually filled with petty insults and shallow jabs at the others shortcomings.

You look up at him, into his eyes. It's easier to see him a little more clearly in the silence. You can take in more information, like the depths of his eyes, the gleam of them, the richness of his brown irises…

“I'm gonna…” you break the silence as gently as you can, “go keep myself busy.”

He doesn't stop you. He doesn't salvage the strange, silent truce with a sly remark, he doesn't scoff or roll his eyes or walk away. He takes a step to the side and allows you to pass, watching you leave with tentative steps as you stare at the floor to keep from looking back at him. You don't understand him. He doesn't understand you. But you think that maybe, in this silent moment, you understand each other more than you ever have since the moment you first met.

You leave his room. He stands there, watching the open door, unblinking but thinking a million thoughts. He hears your gentle steps descend the stairs. Elijah sits back down, looking at your glasses, both still half-full and forgotten. He sighs. He's stupid.

He hears you downstairs. The soft steps of your shoes against the floor, the scoot of a chair.

He'd never meant to hurt you. As much as he threatens, as much as he remarks, he'd never lay a finger on you with the actual intent of hurting you.

He sighs, turning to take the books you'd thrown in his hands to set back on the shelf. He thinks as he arranges them into their original order. He thinks as he places his knick-knacks in their rightful positions.

He listens to your heart beat, a steady rhythm in the back of his mind. A few moments pass, and there is complete stillness in the compound.

But just as quickly as it settled, it was disrupted once more.

He hears your heart pick up, a fast and unsteady beat against your ribcage that all too suddenly disappears.

It only takes a moment to check every room in the compound. It takes only one other to check them all twice.

But you're gone.

His phone is in his hand and ringing in no time. He paces, unsettled as he bids his brother to answer quickly.

The dial tone ends. Klaus’ voice comes through, “I've just got the little witch. I'm sure being alone with her isn't as excruciating as you claim, broth–”

“Niklaus. She's gone.”

A pause. “What do you mean ‘she's gone’?” His voice is low, menacing. He's ready to draw blood.

“Her heartbeat raced, and then it disappeared.” He looks around again, in case he missed something the first two times. He hates to say that he feels like he may begin panicking. “She isn't in the compound, and I am still trapped.”

He knows. He checked. Three times.

“We're coming.”

He hangs up. Elijah lets his hand drop to his side, running the other through his hair and sighing. He closes his eyes, takes a breath.

It'll be fine.

~

There's a terrible pain at the base of your skull, and you wince when you become conscious enough to feel the pounding of it. Your neck is sore, but it's held back by something rather than left to hang freely. Duct tape, wrapped tightly around your throat.

Your fingers tingle with a numbing sensation spreading up to your wrist. Your hands are tied down to a chair, your ankles are restrained to the legs, and your back is sore from the very uncomfortable position you've been put in. The sticky adhesive hurts your skin.

You're not going anywhere.

You blink quickly as you open your eyes, a bright light flashing in your face and blinding. It's hot and humid, each breath you take is thick and sluggish. You look around, taking in your surroundings to try and see if you know where you are.

The walls are rundown with mold and cracks. The floorboards are weak and creaky. The light directed into your face is your only source of light. The sun has set, and it's a new moon tonight.

A groan slips through your lips before you can stop it.

“She's awake,” a voice announces. A woman.

The floorboards groan under the weight of someone's steps. You look up (as if you have much of a choice), your eyes still adjusting, especially with the pain becoming background noise in your mind.

“I heard.” A man, whose voice isn't particularly strong. After spending so much time with the Originals, you're sure to know the difference.

You'll be fine.

You watch him take his phone from his back pocket, holding up to your face. The flash goes off, and you wince as the tiny click of his phone sounds.

You groan, thinking quickly as you take in a breath. “Wait,” you say. “You didn't get my good side. You gotta do it again.”

Your voice is thick with exhaustion and dehydration, but it doesn't deter you. Just because you're the one in restraints doesn't mean you're the weak one here.

He bends down, moving his face into the light. He doesn't look very intimidating, though he tries to be. In fact, he looks terrible—tired and upset.

“So you're the little human Klaus keeps around?” he hums. His lip curls slightly into a scowl, and he shakes his head. “You don't look like much.”

You smile, shrugging as best you can. “I don't need to.” You tilt your head, “I have an endless supply of charm to work with.”

“That's funny,” he says humorlessly. He turns to the woman sitting in the corner. “She's funny.”

You assume she's a witch. After the incident at the compound and now the apparent kidnapping, that assumption isn't too far off.

You nod. “I'm hilarious.”

“All the time?” he wonders.

“24/7.”

He makes a face, one to say he disagrees. He stands straight up again, walking around your chair. His knuckles rap against the back of it, and you roll your eyes. His tactics are amateur. Even the witch is bored, because she stands up and leaves.

“I personally don't think so.”

You furrow your brows, mocking sorrow. “Really? Why not? Wait,” you think for a moment. “I don't care.”

His hands fall on your shoulder, and you scowl. He's actually touching you. That's disgusting. If you could bite his hand or something, you would. But that currently isn't an option.

“There was one joke that wasn't very funny,” he says, bending down once more so you can see him.

“I always love feedback on my work. How'd it go?”

He smiles, but it's a sour thing on his face. “It went up in a tree, gutted like a fish and hanged. Like he was nothing.” Realization hits you. “You got my brother killed.”

So that's why you're here.

“Is that what this is about?” You shake your head, raising an uninterested brow. “Look, bud, all I did was punch him. Klaus killed him.”

He shrugs, “You definitely didn't stop him.” His words drip with a pain you can no longer empathize with.

“I didn't, no,” you tell him plainly, “because I didn't care and your brother was a jerk—and also Klaus is freakishly strong and I don't stand a chance.”

He's losing his patience. Now he's just pissed, and he's losing his power—what little he had to begin with anyway.

“Being a jerk isn't a fair enough reason to be slaughtered like that,” he argues. “Otherwise you'd already be dead.”

“So you're not going to kill me?” you ask. “Oh, that's a relief. I have a massage tomorrow at two. My shoulders have been killing me.”

“I think tense shoulders are the least of your worries right now.”

“I'm getting mixed signals here. Am I in danger or–”

“Shut up!” His hand wraps around your throat, tighter than the tape he has secured there as he pushes you up against the chair.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, but it's well hidden as you watch him straight on. He's on the verge, you can tell. He might snap at any moment and it likely won't end well for you.

“You never stop talking, do you?” His voice is low and rough, his breath is thick with rage. “I don't know how anyone puts up with you and your constant blabbing, it's honestly pathetic.”

Your breath is thin but you won't let him have the last word. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you strain against his grip. “Nothing you say is really going to get under my skin. I've probably said it already.”

He leans in closer. You can feel his warm breath on your face, and you'd squirm if it wouldn't empower him. “You're a child.”

“I know. It keeps me young.”

He lets go of you, and before you can think of something else to say, the back of his hands smacks against your cheek. You grunt, your face whipping to the side as the tape cuts into your skin. It stings. He's very strong, and it shows in the dark stain arising in your cheek. You think his daylight ring clipped you because it really stings, and you think he may have drawn blood.

Your suspicions are validated when you see the veins in his eyes wriggling under his skin, his eyes darkening with the scent of your blood.

“Ah, shit!” you gasp, wanting to soothe the spot but being unable to. It really hurts. But you can't let him have the satisfaction. “I mean,” you catch your breath, “harder, Daddy.” You shake your head, wincing harshly. “God, that hurt, actually.”

He gets real close to your face again, but the pain of his smack makes it harder to show indifference. But it's not without trying. “You killed my brother,” he spits. “I'm going to hurt you really bad. And then…” he smiles, “I am going to kill you.”

Your breath is uneven, riled up with the anxiety of maybe not having the upper hand. If there's a witch, it means you're likely cloaked. The compound may still be sealed, so Elijah is still trapped—not that he would save you if he wasn't. Klaus, with all his power, may not be able to find you.

You might not get out of this alive.

Nevertheless. “You really shouldn't start with your big threat.” He turns away from you, annoyed. “There's no way to go from there.”

“I'm going to beat the shit out of you.

“See?” you ask, getting a little desperate now. Maybe you can distract him? “You already threatened my life. Anything else you say is significantly less impactful.”

“Shut up!” he shouts.

A gleam shines off a knife he pulls from his back pocket. Your eyes go wide with panic, and you try to react but there's nothing you can do. He raises it high, and in the next second, he's stabbed it into the meat of your thigh.

A scream tears from your throat. It's loud and rough and brings tears to your eyes as the pain rips through you like a fire. Your hands flex towards it, trying to soothe it in some way—any way—but to no avail.

He sneers, a dark chuckle leaving his throat. You watch his face change, his vampiric features creeping through again. “That's better.”

He pulls his phone out and snaps another picture. a wicked grin sneaks onto his face.

You're in full panic mode. You can't even attempt to be funny anymore, you've begin genuinely freaking out because there's a fucking knife in your leg.

“Okay, I'm sorry,” the words leave your mouth at the speed of light. “I'm sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn't have let Klaus do it. Granted, I can't really stop him when he's got murder on his mind, but I should have tried, and I didn't, and that's on me. I'm sorry. No, no, no, no, I'm sorr–!”

Another painful shout rips through you as he tears the knife from your leg. It bleeds, and it bleeds bad. Tears have begun pooling in your eyes, and dropping down your face and off your chin. Your screams stutter with sobs, and you gasp but there's too much air in your lungs to actually inhale each breath. The tape around your neck chokes you.

More flashes, more pictures

“You can scream as loud as you like, sweetheart. Your precious Mikaelsons are trapped in their house, and we're cloaked. No one's gonna find us until I'm done.”

Mikaelsons. Not Mikaelson. He thinks Klaus is trapped. If you can stall just long enough…

But your hope is running out and the blood is pooling. It's hard to think past the pain.

Klaus will save me. He always saves me.

This guy hates you and your jokes. He wants nothing more than to shut you up for good, but he isn't going to kill you unless he's broken you. He isn't going to take your life until your jokes have run dry and there's no more fun in stripping you of your depleted humor. If you want to live a little longer, you've got to keep them locked and loaded.

You just don't know how long you'll last.

“Well,” you stutter, whispering a confidence you don't have, “if I'm truly fucked, I guess I'm gonna have to use the rest of my good jokes on you.”

His hands wrap around your throat again. He squeezes, and your head feels hot and heavy. Every inch of your face tingles in a terrible way. Your lungs burn as the pressure builds. You flex your hands, you pull at the layers and layers of tape, you try to do something to get you out of here.

He watched you struggle, crude fingers digging into your pulse points. He watches the fight diminish to a dull scrape of your chair against the floor. When you begin to go limp and the life sinks from your eyes, he lets go.

You've never taken a deeper breath in your life.

Click.

A fit of coughs forces its way from your throat. It feels so good to breathe, a dull euphoria buzzing in the back of your brain against the horrible pain of your leg, but—fuck—you can't do it.

“Try speaking through that,” he huffs, satisfied with his method.

For a moment, you think, Maybe… Maybe I should just let him kill me and get it over with.

But Klaus would never forgive you, and if Elijah hadn't hated you before, he surely would then.

For the boys. Not for you. I'm doing this for the boys.

“C-Come clo–” You cough, the hoarseness of your throat too much to be coherent. “Closer.”

He relent, leaning down as his hands brace himself on your arms. It hurts as he transfers most of his weight on them, but you try not to wince.

“That was…” you take in a terrible breath, your voice is a squeak, “really hot.”

Apparently, he doesn't like your jokes.

Snatching up the tape, he presses it against your mouth in generous amounts to ensure not a single word comes out of you.

He picks up the knife, flipping it in his hands as he examines you. You pull weakly against your restraints—to no avail, of course—as he steps closer and closer. You mumble incoherently against your muffle. You try to say something, anything. You need to bargain, you need to joke, you need to do something.

“I'm going to enjoy this.”

The torture is too much. He slices and stabs and scrapes, his movements both swift and slow and ragged and clean. You scream, sob, choke, make all the noise you can. He cuts you in all the right ways, missing your major arteries to ensure you don't bleed out before he's finished with you.

You're lightheaded, and it's hard to see. The pain is so great, you're not even sure you're feeling all of it by this point. Your voice is so abused by your cries that they're hardly audible anymore.

Every time he lets up, taking your silence for defeat, you grant him a look with all the defiance you can muster and brace for the pain to come.

Klaus is going to owe you so much when he gets here.

If he gets here.

You don't know how much more you can take.

He takes a picture at every point. He's gotten so many photos on his phone by now. So many of you screaming and crying, so many of you hurting and so close to broken.

You don't want him to see them.

He grips the knife again. You feel another weak sob rising in your throat when suddenly–

He turns toward the door, his movements halting to listen. There was a rustle, leaves and twigs. Probably nothing…

“Witch!” he yells. No response. “Avaline!” Nothing. He grunts, shaking his head. His knuckles tighten around the knife. “She's gone.”

You mumble against the tape. He looks at you and relents. He rips the tape off, ensuring it hurts you. You cry a little.

“You gonna…” your mouth and your throat are dry, “go investigate that…suspicious noise?”

He smacks you. You make no sound. He looks over his shoulder. “It's just a possum,” he mumbles, not believing himself. “They're all over the place.”

There's another rustle, a possum. He turns to you, silent.

“What? No funny quip?”

You try to think of something, but you come up dry. You let your head lean forward, ignoring the way the tape strains on your throat. It takes so much strength to hold up your head, and you're tired. You're covered in blood and sweat and tears, and you just want to sleep.

When you remain silent, he smiles, triumphant. He checks the time, sighing almost regretfully.

Click. Click.

“Okay,” he says. “Time to wrap this up.”

He tightens his grip around the knife. You want to fight…but you've gotten nothing left. You think of Klaus, how pissed he'll be, the upset he'll feel when you're gone. You don't think of yourself as having a huge impact on others and their lives. You've always thought you were disposable, and you flitted through people's lives holding that ideal.

But Klaus. Klaus is the one person you know loves you, in his way. And when you're dead, he will raise hell. You want to smile at the idea, but it takes too much.

Elijah will be upset.

A choked sound catches in your throat when the knife slices through the flesh of your belly. It drives in, and you don't have the energy to scream. The satisfaction in his eyes beams.

I'm sorry.

He smiles, readjusting his hold on his knife. He goes to twist–

“Keep your filthy hands off of her.”

They move too fast for you to realize he's already pressed up against the wall, held by his neck by a curling hand intent on ripping out throats. A tiny blossom of hope swells in your chest.

You're too dizzy to pay attention to your hero, it's all so fuzzy.

“How did you get out?” he says, panicking as he claws at his attacker’s hand.

“You've got a poor witch.”

You know that voice. Don't you? Somewhere in your brain. He's familiar…

“Your brother killed mine,” he keeps trying. It's retribution. It's retribution. “I'm only repaying a debt.”

He gets close to his face, squeezing his throat even tighter as he begins to sputter and choke. His jaw is clenched, his eyes are black, his face is dangerous.

“So am I.”

A hand bursts through his chest, squeezing around his beating heart. And he holds it there, he ensures that this creature feels every last thing. His grip tightens, and tightens, and tightens, and he relishes in the feeling of his beating heart slowly failing.

He pulls it out, holding the useless organ in his palm with the same disgust he grants the man it belongs to. It falls to the ground with a splat, as does he.

Your savior steps into your line of sight, his dark eyes wide with intense emotion you can't quite place. And you would smile if you could find the will.

He came for you. Elijah.

His bloodied hand presses against the side of your face. You don't flinch, even as he takes hold of the tape and rips it apart like he's nothing. He takes care to remove it from your neck, and you slump forward with your newfound freedom. Your neck is so tight, it really hurts.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes falling on the knife in your belly.

“Do I look alright…” you struggle to gasp, adding on the end so he doesn't worry too much. You don't want him to worry. “...Genius?”

He tries to look calm. He doesn't want to worry you. “Well, you're still funny, so you can't be hurt that badly.” That's a lie. You look terrible. There's blood everywhere. It takes every ounce of control he's got not to vamp out. He's never seen you worse.

“Fuck you.”

“Another time,” he says. You like jokes. He'll joke for you. “Breathe for me.”

You can't breathe. If you breathe, the knife moves, and it hurts so much. The gears are building so much, you can't even see his face. It's too late. You feel it coming. You tried.

He places his hand on the knife’s handle and begins to move. Before he can do anything, a scream tears from your throat with an energy you weren't aware you still possessed.

You begin to sob, a weak thing that slips from your throat and breaks his heart. He's never seen you so…broken. You were as strong and relentless as his brother, and now you're sobbing in his hands.

“No, don't,” you cry. “Don't, please.” You babble incoherently, in too much pain to properly pronounce your agony.

“I know,” he bids as softly as he can, “but it must come out so I can heal you.”

But your sobs overpower his gentle pleas. “It hurts. Elijah, it hurts so bad.”

He's getting choked up. He can't stand seeing you like this but he refuses to look away. “I know.”

“Please make it stop. Please.”

“I will,” he says, rolling up his sleeve. Biting into his wrist, he forces it to your lips as the blood rolls down his skin. “But you must drink.”

You refuse, sealing your lips shut and turning away from him. He doesn't have time for this—you don't have time for this. “You are in no position to refuse.”

It's getting harder and harder to breathe, to think straight. You can't think straight.

You shake your head weakly, slumping forward still as you feel your body giving out. “I don't want…” You lick your dry lips. “I'm not ready…”

He hears what you can't say. You're not ready to turn…

“You have to drink,” he tries, sounding as desperate not as he feels. His hand braces around the back of your head, he holds your dearly. “You must drink.”

You can't breathe. You try to inhale, but your breath is shallow and quick, fast pulls of air that don't reach your lungs before they're being forced out again. He says your name, pleading.

It's coming. You have to say it before it's too late.

“Elijah…”

He shakes his head. “Save your strength.”

No. You can do this. You can spend the last of your strength on this. “I never hated you…” your voice is barely above a whisper. It's choppy and slow, and you try to say everything you need to. “Just thought…” you try to clear your throat, you can taste the blood in the back of your throat, “just thought…” just a few more words, “...you hated…” you take in a weak breath struggling, “...me…”

His eyes are so full, so full of unshed tears and words he wants to say but cannot. “I don't,” he tries, keeping you awake for as long as you can, though you're fading quick. “But I can't prove it to you unless you live. Now drink.”

With all the strength you have left, you smile. It's a tiny, weak, painful little thing, but you do it for him. You don't want the last thing he knows of you to be petty insults or weak confessions of truth. You want him to know that you died with a real smile on your face, one you've wanted to give to him for a long time.

He calls your name, you don't respond as your drooping eyes begin to close. Your heart still beats, your pulse is weak but it still beats.

And he refuses to let you die. You will not die.

“If you won't save yourself, I will.”

~

Elijah flicks through the photos he'd found of that bastard’s phone. He looks at them all, one by one. He sees your eyes, so full of fear and pain and anger and hopelessness. Through each picture, he watches the resilience in your eyes fade until there's nothing but the emptiness of acceptance. He hates it, and he punishes himself with every single photo, refusing to forget that he almost lost you.

He hasn't shown Niklaus. And he doesn't intend to.

Your steady breaths are the only thing keeping him sane. If not for those, he would be losing his mind, pacing around the room and wanting nothing more than to punish someone for his shortcomings.

You almost died.

You should have died.

The rhythm of your breath is disrupted by a long inhale. He looks at you, watching your eyelids flicker and your brows furrow. A tiny hum arises from your throat.

Elijah crushes the phone in his palm. It crumbles to the floor.

You open your eyes, immediately blinded by the daylight peaking through the curtains. He moves his chair a little closer, giving you a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. Not ‘hello’, not ‘good afternoon’, not some smart and quick-witted comment. Just ‘hey’.

You grumble your response. Your body is heavy but not nearly as painful as you should feel. The memories of the night before flood into you before you can even see properly, but you know something is off before you can even react to them. You shouldn't be able to move right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

You sit up slowly, rising onto your elbows and staying there. “Like there's no longer a knife in my gut.”

“Technically, it missed your gut. The luck you have astounds me.”

You hum and look around. “Where's Klaus?”

He sits back again, but not in any comfortable way. “Trying to locate the witch who got away.”

You're not surprised, though you'd hoped he would be at your side when you awoke. “So the normal murder and mayhem thing?”

He hums. “The normal murder and mayhem thing.”

You got to sit up some more, stopping when you feel the ache in your body keeping you from doing so. You grunt. “Well,” you sigh, “that answered my question.”

A gentle hand presses against your completely bandaged arm. “Sit back,” he commands softly. “I've healed your deep wounds but everything else is still very much in recovery.”

You state the obvious as you sit back against the headboard, not looking at him. “You used your blood.”

“I did,” he says, unashamed. “I'm so sorry to have saved your life.”

You glance away from him. “Yeah…”

You look around the room, thinking silently. You're alive. You're in his room in the compound, tucked in his covers, secured in bandages that you're sure he did himself, and you're alive.

It's confusing.

He could have been rid of you, but he's here healing your wounds and watching over you while you rest. He could have let you die and say he came too late, said good riddance and left you be, but he's here making sure you recover. He could have just healed you and left. You would wake on your own and come to terms on your own with the fact that you are still breathing air.

He could have let you turn. He could have let you turn and left you to deal with the life of a vampire on your own, not ready and completely lost.

But he didn't.

It's confusing.

“Why are you still here, anyway?” you ask, turning to him with a furrowed brow. “I'm fine, you don't have to stay.”

He clenches his jaw, sitting back. “You were under my protection, and I let you get hurt.” His voice is soft, but it holds a gravity foreign to you on his lips. “It's my fault this happened. I'm making sure it doesn't happen again.”

So he feels guilty.

“Elijah, I know the only reason you saved me is because of me being Klaus’ friend or whatever,” you hide how much it hurts to say it out loud, “but you really don't have to stay behind and watch my every move anymore.” You swallow thickly, “You can get back to your life.”

He scoffs. “I did not only save you because of your relationship with my brother.” He seems almost offended. “Has it ever occurred to you that I actually care?”

You answer honestly.

“Not really. Once or twice on a maybe.” He nearly winces. It actually hurts him to hear you speak so truthfully about it. Had he really been so terrible to you?

You almost died, and you would have died thinking he despised you. The thought makes him cold.

“We aren't friends, I know,” you whisper.

There's a long silence. You don't look at him, but he can't look away from you.

“Do you remember what you told me?” His voice is gentle.

“When?”

“Before you passed out.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands as you brush your finger over the large band-aid going across the back of your palm. Yes, you remember. You remember how hard it was to say, you remember feeling your heart gushing in your chest, you remember the dizzying sight of his saddened face.

“I said…I didn't hate you.” You breathe in, looking at him. “And I don't.”

He shrugs, as if that answers all your questions. “Neither do I.”

That makes no sense. Now more than ever, you need something to make sense. You want him to give you a straight answer, you want your heart to stop pounding, you want your head to stop hurting, and you just want to tell him the truth, rather than the sarcasm-coated taunts you've had prepared for him for years.

“I don't get this,” you groan, resting your face in your hands and ignoring the pain blossoming from the bruises.

You look at him, dropping your hands in your lap. “From day one, you've been glaring daggers at me, threatening me, proving constantly that you want nothing to do with me and that my life to you is petty and needless.” His lips part, but he says nothing. “Now you're healing my wounds and saving my life and telling me you don't hate me.”

You're still so vulnerable from the night before, your emotions are still so raw from the fresh wounds you'd accumulated and the desperate confessions you'd revealed. Your eyes burn with tears, glowing easily with all that practice last night. And it only frustrates you, because you're tired of crying. You're tired of feeling so vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“Telling me,” you sniffle, wiping at your face roughly, groaning at the pain but doing nothing to stop it, “you actually care about me.” You're so tired.

He's hurt you again. He can't seem to stop hurting you.

He sits forward, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Do you want to know why I treated you as I did?”

“Yes,” you nod definitely. “Yes, I do. As much as I'd love to deny it I really wanna fucking know why you're playing with me like this.”

You want the truth. So he'll give it to you. It's the only thing he can really give to you.

“Because I'm a stupid man who is unable to articulate my feelings.” You go silent ad he stares at you, his gaze unyielding and yet so comforting in the way he watches you. You love his eyes, always watching, always on you, even when you both pretended they weren't.

He speaks softly but with a sincerity you feel pulling in your chest. “I haven't felt the way I have for anyone the way I feel for you in hundreds of years. Do you know what happened the last time I did?” You don't answer him, knowing the answer. Always knowing the answer to that question. The life of an immortal, a painful existence. His voice nearly broke with unshed tears. “She died. She was taken from me, and she died.”

He looks away from you, collecting himself once more with a steadying breath. Slowly, he makes himself look at you again. You stare at him, eyes wide and…fond. He was so afraid to find fear there, ever since he first saw it in your eyes yesterday, he's been terrified of finding your gaze to be a horrified stare.

But you gaze.

It gives him the courage to continue on. “I don't want to feel that way again. I don't want to lose like that again.” He almost lost you. “I did it to protect myself, and you. It's just my luck you stayed. My luck you let yourself fight me, too. Because with every petty insult, every little name, my love for you grew, and I hated it because I was trying so hard to hate you.”

Silence. Complete silence.

You stare at him, eyes wide, brows pinched. He watches you with all the emotion brimming in his chest, and you have to take a long moment to yourself to think clearly.

You look down at your hands, your bottom lip trembling. You take a slow breath in, suddenly remembering to breathe as you cast your eyes upon him once more.

“You love me?”

He sighs, nodding, reaching out slowly and taking your hand. His are large and warm, and you could sit there holding his hand forever.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I love you.” This can't be real, surely. “I love you, and I'm sorry.”

Your breath shakes. He's sorry.

“I'm sorry, too,” you whisper, your voice weak but just as determined to tell him the truth: the cold, naked, selfish truth. “Because if I ever had to live without you, Elijah, I think I'd die.” You swallow thickly. “I'd rather spend my whole life pretending to hate you than spend the rest of it without you.”

You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I love you so much it hurts.” You hate that you're crying again, especially when he is not.

But then you watch a lonely tear slip down his cheek, and you start to feel a little better. He laughs, a startled thing that takes him by surprise as he looks down at your hands. A laugh of your own bubbles out of your chest, you're perfectly content to sit there, holding hands and laughing. God, you love him.

His thumb brushes the back of your palm. A watery chuckle escapes you as you shake your head and roll your eyes. You wipe your tears away, sick of crying and wanting to take the victory with a smile instead of tears.

“God forbid we handle our feelings like adults, though, right?”

He nods, flicking his own away. “God forbid.”

You lick your lip briefly. “Please come here and kiss me.”

He wastes no time in covering the distance between you, wrapping a hand carefully around the back of your neck as he cradles your head. He pulls you in to meet halfway, his lips pressing up against yours. It's a perfect kiss, a perfect fit. One you had certainly not imagined a million times between insults and remarks.

You love him, you love him, you love him. And he loves you.

It feels so nice to finally tell the truth.

Because there are many things to love about Elijah Mikaelson, and there are many things to love about you. And you do. You love them through and through, finally finding solace in all the wrongs and not-quite-rights you'd lived with all these years.

“If we do this,” he says, pulling away from your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours, unable to pull apart from you after finally building that bridge, “your life will always be in danger.”

You smile. “Klaus Mikaelson is my best friend. My life is already in danger.” Your lips softly peck his own. “Might as well keep it up.”

A smile of his own tugs at his mouth and he pulls you in yet again, already so addicted to the taste of him. You love the way he loves you.

“Well, I suppose you're stuck with me now,” he sighs between kisses.

You chuckle lightly. You have no problem with that.

“Back at you.”

Klaus will have a field day when he finds out.

Always and Forever taglist: @avala-moon​ @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @katsukis1wife @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @thelastpyle @lovelyy-moonlight @hb8301 @athena-royal @alexxavicry @dumb-fawkin-bitch @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @evansstan-akya @anotherblackreader Suit and Staglist:​​ @deviously-innocent @wanniiieeee @brandyovereager @starkleila @amythedoctor @slytherinlyn16 @anastacia1705 @sugakookieswithacupoftae16

[heatedwither]

in the white.

deadite! ellie x fem reader.

summary- when you finally come back to the apartment from your trip to the grocery store, ellie notices something different about your scent.

word count- 4.7k.

warnings- smut, mentions of blood and violence, cursing.

note- this has been in my drafts forever. i’ve decided to release this before ‘the decay of your body’ because i am very excited to share this, and to be honest, i am proud of this one.

being held captive by a walking corpse was not something you were looking forward to. from the moment that trained nose took in the faintest whiff of your scent, she knew. that was the one. you were gonna be the one human she spared and kept hidden from the outside world, only staying by her side because she cannot understand why you would even need to be away from her when your job is to just sit there and look pretty for her. and as much as she wants to tackle you down and make you bleed that gorgeous shade of red, she can’t risk passing a demon onto you and watching it take over her precious girl’s body, that’s her job. you aren’t allowed to leave the apartment, roaming the building is a big no because ellie would not hesitate to drag those demons back down to hell, laughing as she pulverized them to nothing. rarely are you ever allowed to go outside, unless you need one of those monthly trips to the grocery store that ellie hates so badly since it feels like forever that you are gone, and those revolting scents that are plastered onto your body nearly makes her fall into a fit of rage. those disgusting humans had the audacity to get too close to what belongs to her.

ellie is absolutely and utterly obsessed with all things you. it was because of her obsession that you are alive and breathing instead of rotting like all the other poor souls in the building. forget about having time to yourself, alone time is out of the question. ellie needs to be right in your face at all times. you're trying to cook something? she's right there looming over you. shower time? you better not lock the door because she will bang and bang until the door finally caves in.

it’s a good thing she’s limited to the apartment, if she were able to roam the city there would be nothing but chaos, ellie would make sure to slaughter anyone she comes into contact with. that person is too close? dead. he smells weird? dead. that innocent person who hasn’t even acknowledged your existence? dead.

she’ll go on and on and rant about how she’ll hunt them down and gut them with her own hands, something you have to listen to while she tries to remove that awful smell from your body and replace it with hers, which results in you being pinned down and smothered by a very possessive demon. all the while she’s letting out a low, guttural noise as she attaches to your body, making sure you can’t slip out of her grasp. it didn't take much for ellie to turn absolutely feral, she's like that by nature, but you bring out another side of her that she has not experienced, something that demon was not aware of.

you struggle, but there’s no way you can wiggle out of her tight hold. one hand holds your arms above your head while the other is wrapped around your neck, threatening to squeeze just a little harder if you continue thrashing around and making this difficult for her. any other time she may enjoy watching you try so helplessly to shake her off, but right now she needs to rub her scent on you. there is no way she is going to let you stink up her apartment with someone else’s filthy stench, especially if it’s stuck to you, her human. ellie didn't care what the situation was or where you were, if she noticed a difference in your scent she was gonna mount you and keep you underneath her, lasting for however long she wanted.

all you could see was her tangled red hair and the perfect ink that was still visible on her graying skin. you were panting, breathing hard and ellie twitched at the smallest change in your scent- fear and excitement. perhaps that was what drew her to you in the first place, how delicious your fear was, the intoxicating scent of your blood growing hotter whenever you are in her presence. your heartbeat thumping so hard in your chest that she can hear a mile away. it’s unlike the other humans, she can hunt them down and hack and slash away at their bodies for game but you, she cannot bring herself to actually harm you. as much as she would like to see you looking pretty in a pool of blood, she needs you alive for her.

you're her sweet girl, her human that was made for her. you can be troublesome at times, but ellie will always put you back in your place and remind you who's the bigger, more lethal person between the two of you. you try not to give her any problems just so you can stay alive another day, but you are only human and no matter how many times you are exposed to ellie's behavior, a part of you will always be terrified of her and what she can do to you whenever she's had enough.

her face is now buried in your neck, her long tongue lapping away right against that spot where she has perfectly mapped out one of your major arteries. that specific area, pumping and pulsing with blood. it’s one of her favorite spots to just nudge her nose, taking in your scent as she drags her tongue against your skin, leaving behind that black liquid that occasionally seeps from her mouth whenever she locks eyes with you. her nails dig into your shoulders, deep, but not enough to actually break skin.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t secretly enjoy how vulnerable and weak ellie made you feel. here she was, pinning you down and drooling all over you, rubbing that pungent odor all over your body. at first you thought you’d never get used to having this demon smother you in that foul stench and practically glue herself to you most of the time, but after many tiring occasions you grew used to it, and to be honest, you liked it.

you wince and let out one of those whimpers she loves so much. her body twitches and her hand slowly trails down your chest, her fingers grazing the material of your shirt before frantically ripping it off of you. there goes another one of your shirts ruined, but ellie did not care one bit, simply due to the fact that it was in the way, and she never understood why you felt the need to wear pieces of cloth over your body especially since you looked so perfect undressed. the cold air hit your chest, making you shiver, but that was enough for ellie to grab your hips and lift them up slightly so she could press them against hers. she slowly started grinding against you, dragging her tongue against your skin, tracing your veins and arteries underneath your flesh. her hands undid your bra, which she was nice enough to not rip off this time. her face immediately went to your breasts, which she enjoyed licking and nipping at. she’s always adored your body, but she loved littering your skin in bruises.

you could feel the vibrations in her throat as her mouth attached to your soft flesh, her tongue was burning up- just like the rest of her body that was producing so much friction against you. ellie had mounted herself on your thigh, her bony fingers pressing into your hips as she rocked against you.

ellie finally removed her face from your chest, locking eyes with you and drooling at the sight of her sweet girl all flustered and burning up just for her. that look that drove her crazy, your eyes peering up at her and your lips parted, letting out small pants and huffs.

“please… ellie..”

you begged, but you had no idea what you were actually begging for. all you knew was that you wanted ellie to touch every part of you, smother you in her eye watering scent once again and somehow, press herself harder against you. your pleads were music to her ears, often times she would tease you endlessly just to hear you beg and whine so pathetically. this woman took pleasure in watching you suffer, she loved how you reacted to every little thing she did, she could barely lay a finger on you and you would absolutely lose your mind. ellie took pride in this, her being the only one who could have such an effect on you. she knew you would always submit to her, you were her good girl after all. she leaned her face closer to yours, her slender fingers creeping up to your jaw and holding it in place so you had no choice but to meet her piercing gaze.

“please, what?”

ellie's voice turned deep, demonic, much different than that sweet motherly voice she usually used around you. that feral grin turned into a straight face and you knew ellie was completely serious, she wasn't very pleased with you referring to her as that name. she had allowed you to call her ellie sometimes, but the demon always reminded you that ellie was somewhere burning away in hell. you could feel her claws poking into your flesh, ellie's patience was non existent, you knew if she asked you something you better reply quick and not make her wait. if she was upset, you better hope that you can somehow managed to calm her down.

your heart started racing, you knew you messed up, this was the part where ellie finally tosses you aside and puts an end to you, right when you were enjoying her feral and carnal nature towards you. truth be told, ellie had no plans of getting rid of you, she enjoyed implementing fear inside you. she’ll sink her claws in your flesh just a little more if that means seeing you shake underneath her.

“sorry… mommy”

you whined, face turning red in embarrassment as the words bounced off your tongue. ellie’s lips soon curled into that wide grin she usually has plastered on her face, her pupils dilating and that pungent black sludge dripping from her mouth that you weren’t such a big fan of, but since it was from ellie you thought of it as a form of affection.

“good girl. now… what do you want from me, hm?”

ellie’s hips started moving slowly again, just barely pressing against your thigh. her grip on your jaw softened and her fingers caressed the side of your face. as soft as ellie tried being with you, it never lasted for long, it was something you still had to teach her, and ellie wasn’t the greatest at understanding how humans worked. you once tried teaching her what a simple hug was, but ellie stared at you like you were insane and figured you wanted something else. you never realized it, but you taught ellie a lot. as clueless as she can be about humans she’s noticed everything you do- your habits, the way you do everything. ellie has studied you carefully and there was nothing she hadn’t already seen you do. she doesn’t understand why you do things, but she knows you do them.

a wave of embarrassment hit you again. you knew what you wanted, but actually saying it? you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. you knew ellie found amusement in your embarrassment, she would brutally tease you and degrade you for being such a filthy girl.

you couldn’t handle it anymore. ellie made you feel so dirty, but you enjoyed it because it was her making you feel so dirty. right now all you could think of was ellie’s hands roaming every part of your body, how every touch made your skin grow hot and much to your embarrassment, how much you wanted to grind onto her perfect thighs.

your scent changed, ellie immediately picked up on it. her head twitched and you could hear a clicking sound erupting from her throat, she could smell your arousal. you could hear her sniffing around and soon she lowered herself, dragging her nose from your breast to your stomach slowly. those faint touches were enough to make you soak through your panties, her face was buried against the waist line of your skirt, just sniffing, trying to take in as much of your arousal as she could.

ellie didn’t seem to be interested in your response anymore, that was a first- but now she’s currently occupied with something else. she’s focused on that sweet scent coming from between your legs. a low growl vibrated from her throat and before you could even look at her again she was already peering up at you with her shit eating grin. you locked eyes with her and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

so many delectable scents coming from her sweet girl. it was difficult for ellie to actually hold back, you could tell from those guttural noises and the way her nails dug into the flesh on your hips.

“answer me you filthy slut”

of course she didn’t forget.

you whimpered at the raspy demonic voice, your eyes closing and threatening to release a tear. ellie’s voice never failed to make you jump. the woman in general was terrifying, and you’ve accepted the fact that she always will be like that. your thighs shut together and a tingly feeling shot through your body, another proof of ellie’s effect on you. there was something about those bloody fingers, the ones that tried their best to caress you but always ends up burrowing into your skin. her face that was always so close to yours, covered in blood and saliva that you would occasionally wipe off at times and ellie would just stare at you, confused as to why you did that. and her voice, the way she could change from a calming motherly one to something so terrifying and evil. this woman gave you butterflies in every way. it took a while getting accustomed to her demon antics, but you are probably just as obsessed with her as she is with you.

“t-touch me? please, mommy?”

you begged nicely, just as ellie taught you to do. if you were a good girl and begged for her she may or may not stop teasing you so much, but ellie always did what she wanted and that also meant ignoring your requests if she felt like doing so. she was selfish in a way, but her demon brain can’t understand actually giving in for a human and doing as they say. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen to you, ellie believes you are the only exception but even the exception doesn’t always get what she wants.

ellie’s head lifted just slightly so she could get a good look at you, her weak little human who’s looking so cute and vulnerable. she was pleased with how well you could beg, though ellie was always one to make you beg until you got sick and tired of it. you think batting your lashes and being cute could make her cave in? she wasn’t going to let you get what you want so easily. her fingers danced around the material of your skirt, lifting it up a little. you knew she was teasing, there wasn’t a time ellie had ever let you get what you wanted so easily.

“ohhh you greedy girl”

ellie laughed at how pitiful you looked. god, you couldn’t even look at her anymore. one more glance and you were sure that evil grin would send you into a fit of frustration and a tear may or may not run down your cheek. you could feel her graze your thighs, tracing over the marks she littered on you last time.

“such a filthy little slut. all you can do is beg for me to ruin you, isn’t that right?”

she wasn’t wrong, thoughts of ellie occupied many parts of your brain, often pushing aside other thoughts to make more room for all things ellie, and right now all you can think about is ellie using you to her liking. her words made you squirm underneath her, and you nodded your head. at this point you didn’t really care how pathetic and needy you looked, you wanted ellie and you didn’t care how much you had to please her. truthfully, you wanted to please her. you wanted ellie to be proud of you and praise you. the thought of her ever losing interest in you was terrifying, so you felt the need to always meet her expectations, even if she did have high standards.

“mhm.. yes… yes mommy”

your words came out between breaths. ellie's hand was now higher up your thigh and her finger tugged at your panties before once again, ripping them off of you along with your skirt. there was something about how aggressive ellie was that never failed to get you aroused. she's a demon, but she's your demon, who, despite being hostile to any living thing around her, has a soft spot for you and only you. even if she does threaten you or lose her temper sometimes, annoy you to the point of wanting to make an escape from the apartment, you know it wouldn't be the same without her.

ellie did not waste any time grabbing onto your thighs and forcing them apart, exposing your dripping cunt to her. it felt like she was taking forever to finally touch you, when you peered up at her you could see her darkened saliva leak from her gritted teeth. she noticed your gaze and she stared at you, giving you a little smirk before lowering her head and resting her forehead against your stomach. the look she gave you forced another stream of arousal to leak out of you and all you wanted was to shove her face between your legs and keep her there, but you knew ellie took her time with you- unless she was having one of those moments where she desperately needed to mate with you.

it was typical ellie behavior to press her nose into your skin and sniff you, you were used to that, but when her hot breath is so dangerously close to your cunt, and you can feel her throat vibrate against your clit, you almost lose it there. her hands are on your waist, keeping you still as she drags her mouth down your abdomen. it wasn't like ellie to actually kiss your body, but when she did her lips felt like they were burning into your skin, sinking right to your core. you watched as her face got closer and closer between your legs and you couldn't help but clench around nothing. ellie took a whiff of your arousal once more, a deep growl erupting from her throat just before she made eye contact with you.

"you smell delicious"

you didn't have time to react or even register what ellie had said to you, her face was already buried between your legs and lapping at your cunt. a sob spilled from your mouth and you could feel ellie grin against you, as much as you squirmed it did nothing to shake the woman off. she was glued to you, absolutely obsessed with your taste. ellie was very messy and sloppy whenever she ate you out, she was very adamant about reducing you to a filthy, wailing mess. her tongue danced around your clit before flattening her tongue and dipping between your folds, collecting any wetness that leaked out of you. tears fell from your eyes, it was all too much, ellie's tongue was everywhere at once, flicking against your clit, buried inside you and hungrily lapping at every part of you.

ellie's hand was on your abdomen, her thumb slowly rubbing against your skin as she continued her assault on your cunt. you could hear and feel her groan against your clit, the vibrations sent shivers down your spine and your back to arched, which failed due to ellie immediately pinning your hips down again. she enjoyed how much you squirmed and tried to wiggle away, being able to force you back down and overpower you. you whined, choking out a sob over how perfect ellie's mouth felt on your cunt. your head was spinning and growing foggy, not a thought in your brain except how disgusting you are for giving your body to this vile creature. the embarrassment hit you again, how exposed and needy you are for ellie, sobbing with that fucked out expression. all you can do is moan and say her name over and over, babbling whatever incoherent words are coming out of your mouth. you look down at she's staring right into your soul, not once blinking as she makes a bigger mess of you, drooling and spitting over your cunt.

"look at you, just a dumb little slut. you like my tongue, don't you?"

you nodded frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks and ellie chuckled at your pathetic expression. your legs were wobbly, but your hips attempted any movement they could- desperately grinding more against ellie's mouth, which she seemed to enjoy by the sound of her guttural noises and groans. she loved your taste, perhaps it was more addicting than your scent she's so obsessed with. this woman could eat you out for hours, non stop. her stamina is infinite, if it means having some fun with her precious darling, ellie would fuck you forever.

ellie didn't have a particular rhythm, she just devoured you as much as she possibly could. you could hear the absolute filth of her slurping and lapping away, sucking and then mixing her saliva with your arousal. she was like a starved animal, rough and filled with carnal desire. it didn't bother her how much you thrashed around and jerked your body, her darling couldn't slip away from her, your squirming only made her more hungry for you. your screams and sobs always earned an evil laugh from her, and her fingers would press into your flesh, bruising and marking up your body. you slowly reached your shaking hand down, stretching out your index finger to hook it with ellie's bony one. as weak as your body was, every part of you turning to mush, you couldn't let go of ellie's finger, you held onto her, the only part you could.

“oh, fuck.. mommy.. hnng”

you eyes closed shut and you bit down onto your lip, your vision was going blurry, you couldn’t meet the woman’s eyes even if you tried, and you were sure she was still staring at you. ellie wasn’t going to take her malign pupils off her pretty girl, especially when she looks so perfect at her mercy. she carefully examined every tear that fell down your cheek, every breath and those adorable expressions you make whenever she teases you in such a way that makes your head spin. you were growing closer to the point of passing out, but ellie’s sinful mouth was successful at bringing you back to reality, the filthy, shameful reality of your want and need for this demon you’ve grown so fond of. it’s wrong, disgusting, but you’re too far gone and you simply don’t care. you’ve fallen for this wicked woman, you let her hands corrupt your mortal body and you couldn’t be happier to be bound to your captor.

something was pooling in your stomach and your grip on ellie’s finger tightened slightly, she took notice of that and twirled her digit around yours, playing with your much smaller hand. curses were mumbled underneath your breath, you were dangerously close to cumming, but you knew that ellie would not have you climaxing without her permission. you were afraid that one more swipe of her tongue would send you into that state of bliss you were needing so badly.

“i’m so close.. mommy.. can i please cum?”

you whined, weakly grabbing her wrist and bucking your hips as much as you could. if ellie rejected your request you would have just cried and wailed, bearing her torture that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. your hips stuttered, every part of you ached, and that was exactly what ellie wanted. she wasn’t done until you were broken, she’d wreck you until you were nothing, but her wicked hands and sweet curses were enough to soothe you, even if she isn't the most gentle afterwards as well. you tried to hold out as long as you could, though ellie's tongue worked faster against your swollen clit.

“that’s it, be a good girl and cum for me”

your thighs were trembling, slowly closing in on ellie's head, the heat between your legs kept getting hotter, ellie's voice did something to you. it wasn't her demonic voice that sent chills down your spine, she sounded genuine, helping you through your high. right there you could believe ellie had even the slightest bit of humanity in her rotten body, and it was all for you, her precious darling.

with a scream your hips bucked and your hand tugged at ellie's, the hot pool in your stomach breaking apart and soon you came undone. there was drool leaking from your mouth, your chest rising and falling with every deep breath, as tired and oversensitive as you were, you locked your hand with ellie's, and for once her grip softened, almost caressing your hand gently. your lower body went numb, yet you could feel ellie place a small peck to your clit before leaving a couple on your thighs. you shuddered at every little kiss she placed on your thighs, there was so much tension in your body and all you could do was lay there, vision blurry and heart nearly beating out of your chest. you were panting, whimpering her name between each breath and ellie lifted her head from between your thighs and leaned closer to you, taking the side of your flushed cheek in her hand. her claws weren't poking into your skin anymore, she was holding you like some kind of fragile piece of glass, in such a way that was foreign to both you and her. with her touch you could finally calm down, you leaned into her touch and for once you could somehow feel at ease with your demon.

she's a menace, a parasite that has drained you of your innocence and freedom, but you've accepted that, you've accepted ellie and you believe there is nothing better than that wicked smile she always has plastered on her lips. ellie's face was buried in your hair, continuing her usual ellie things that include gluing herself to you and trying to take in as much of your scent as she possibly could. the little strength you had allowed you to wrap your arms around her body, fingers tracing the bones of her back and shoving your face in the crook of her neck. she whispered praises into your ear, licking and nipping at your skin. you're so used to her doing that, but it feels like a reward for being such a good girl for her. ellie always made you feel safe, but being so close to her like this made you feel special, like you were truly her precious little darling. it was a rare feeling, you had no worry in the world right now. all that mattered was the demon who was currently smothering you with her body so much that if you take another second of it you might suffocate, but as long as you were with ellie you didn't care about anything else. you're content with everything, content with ellie. you can tolerate how absolutely unhinged and evil she is, you prefer her that way, a vile thing who was birthed into some dark cavern of hell and summoned by an ancient relic that you shouldn't be so grateful for, but if it weren't for the human curiosity then you wouldn't have this demon you're so attached to.

and you've completely fallen for this demon.

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain (Part I)

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence, abuse, suicide, religious themes, ect.

FAMILY TREE (INTRO)

These crosses all over my body remind me of who I used to be.

Christ forgive these bones I'm hiding.

He cannot escape his mother's blood.

He'll never escape what he's made up of.

The fates already fucked me sideways.

You know I raised you bеtter than this.

Leavе me hanging so they all can laugh at me.

AMERICAN TEENAGER

Putting too much faith in the make-believe.

The neighbor's brother came home in a box.

He wanted to go, so maybe it was his fault.

Another red heart taken by the American dream.

I feel it there in the middle of the night.

I'm all alone again.

Say what you want, but say it like you mean it.

Just give it one more day, then you'rе done.

I do what I want.

I said it was fun.

I don't need anything from anyone.

It's just not my year.

I'm all good out here.

I'm sorry if I sound off, but I was probably wasted.

Didn't feel so good.

Head full of whiskey but I always deliver.

If you're listening, let me handle my liquor.

If you're there, why do I feel alone in this room with you?

I'm still standing here.

I do it for *Name*.

I'm doing what I want and damn, I'm doing it well.

A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA

Sing it to me all day long.

The aching sound of silence used to be our favorite song.

You and me against the world.

You were my man and I your girl.

We had nothing except each other.

You were my whole world.

I still call home that house in Nebraska.

We found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.

The world was empty, save you and I.

You left, and I cried.

Even if we died tonight, I'd die yours.

These dirt roads are empty.

Your mama calls me sometimes to see if I'm doing well.

Really I'd kill myself to hold you one more time.

It hurts to miss you.

It's worse to know that I'm the reason you won't come home.

I died there under you, every night, all night.

You know, I still wait at the edge of town, praying straight to God that maybe you’ll come back around.

I cry every day, and the bottles make it worse.

You were the only one I was never scared to tell I hurt.

I found photographs of our school, on the day we met.

I thought that you were so beautiful, it was love, I guess.

You might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night.

I just hope you're doing fine out there.

I just pray that you're all right.

I feel so alone.

I feel so alone without you.

WESTERN NIGHTS

He's never looked more beautiful.

I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue.

Show me how much I mean to you.

I'd hold the gun if you asked me to.

If you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to?

Trouble's always gonna find you baby. but so will I.

Hold me across every state line.

I'm never gonna leave you baby, even if you lose what's left of your mind.

'Cause you know I'll be right there beside you.

I haven't spoken to my daddy in a long, long time.

I don't want him to worry.

The neighborhood keeps getting smaller.

All starved out when the money's paper thin.

All that's left are your walls and you'll die there.

I should have known that there's no getting in.

I'll still be alright.

Clinging onto you like some love blind addict.

I'll be screaming your name.

Please don't love how I need you.

Know that one day, you and I could be okay.

FAMILY TREE

I'm just a child but I'm not above violence.

My mama raised me better than that.

Daddy said shoot first then run and don't look back.

Take me down to the river and bathe me clean.

I've killed before and I'll kill again.

Take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand.

They say heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Hell don't scare me, I've been times before.

HARD TIMES

Lay it on me.

Tell me a story about how it ends where you're still the good guy.

I hate this story.

Happiness ends and dies with you.

I thought good guys get to be happy.

I'm not happy.

I am poison in the water and unhappy.

I was too young to noticе that some types of love could bе bad.

I still do, and that scares me.

I'm tired of you.

It's just the way that you are.

I just wanna sleep.

[laugtherhyena]

Playlist listened to while writing; https://spotify.link/WzxvdTKBCJb

Holy shit dude, the ceo of rei angst wrote some rei angst what the HELL!! We have to kill her guys she cant keep getting away with this.

Anyways im gonna be writing about a lot of these nerds. I just love rei. This is really rushed and I am really sleepy so it is not my best writing.

Also i cannot write teruya so you will habe to ppppUT UP WITH IT.

Warnings for like. Violence and my attempt at writing a breakdown.

-

Rei held the rusty pipe like a baseball bat, swinging for a homerun as she smacked off the head of someone she once knew. Someone who had abandoned her long ago.

The rotting head of what used to be her mother rolled on the ground, sickly green skin squishing against the ground and stared up at her with lifeless eyes.

“I didn’t want to see you again like this,” Rei hissed as her chest heaved, “i wanted to see you staring with regret as you saw your daughter on top of the world. I didn’t want to kill you or see you dead.”

That had been the second time she had run into her zombified mother. The first, she had been a coward, unable to kill her and her father– the two people she hated most, the two people who had abandoned her and left her on the streets.

Where had all her rage gone that time. When had she become soft.

-

Midori clung to Ryutaro with all the strength in her frail body. “My brother,” she whispered, “i saw my brother’s corpse down there. Kakeru… he… they got Kakeru… they killed Kakeu…”

He didn’t say much in return, but he did pat her hand briefly– the only comforting action he could manage while carrying her.

“I see a store up ahead. Let’s stop by there for supplies.” Keisuke pointed out to the leader of the bunch.

Setsuka patted the clown on the back and gave him a smile. “Sounds good, lead the way. Maki, do you need me to carry Yamaguchi for a bit?”

Midori wrapped her arms and legs around Ryutaro a bit tighter at the suggestion, very much attached to the guy who had found her and saved her from zombies.

“I’ll be fine until we reach the stop.” The blonde nodded his acknowledgement to the bluenette, forcing a smile as he struggled to catch up.

The group walked in silence for a bit, the only sounds being the orchestra of distant zombie groans.

“Miss Yamaguchi,” Hikaru said after bit, his tone fatherly like usual, “may I check your pulse soon? And may I check if the swelling on your ankles has gone down?”

“Yeah, that… sounds good. Thank you, Uncle.”

-

Kanata removed the bandages from Ayame’s arm gradually.

“There isn’t any sign of infection, Hatano. Kinjo and Maki are still out, so… uhm… can I get you something to eat?” The surgeon spoke softly as she stared at the sprinter.

“I’m not hungry…” Ayame mumbled.

“Inori!” Tomori slammed the door open, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, “i think i got bit. Check! Check, please!!”

Kanata bit back a sigh of exasperation and forced out her cheerful smile. “Of course. Where do you think you were bit this time?”

“My ankle. They went after my ankle so I couldn’t run! They’re going to eat me. I’m going to die, aren’t I? Oh, god, I’m going to die!” The cheerleader’s words were jumbled together and practically nonsensical. She grabbed onto Kanata’s shoulders as she spoke, her nails digging into the other’s lab coat and pressing her skin uncomfortably.

“Miss Tomori,” Kanata winced, “please let go of me. I will check your ankle, but I am sure you are fine.”

“I’m not fine!” Kizuna wailed before glaring accusatory daggers at Ayame. “If you… if you hadn't gotten yourself bitten! If you had just seen that bitch for what she is! We wouldnt be doomed! You’ve doomed us all!”

Ayame took the words without fighting back. What had been the point in fighting anymore? Kizuna was right. She had doomed them all.

“Miss Tomori, please… Taira had us all fooled… if Miss Hatano is to blame, then so are the rest of us…” the blonde murmured. “Please sit down so I can check your ankle…”

-

Mindless. Kinji was mindless. His faith had only been able to spare him for so long.

His teeth were decayed now. His skin was green and purple and yellow. His eyes were dull. His cheeks were sunken.

It was incredible that his mind stayed intact long enough for him to bury as many as he did. The only bodies he didn’t put 6 feet under, the only bodies he couldn’t handle burying, were those of the people he knew.

But what was the point?

-

Yuki held his stomach as he choked up and spat out the last meal he had, beans that had barelt even begun to digest.

“Urgh… gross…” he mumbled to himself.

Shinji was away at the moment, scouting out for the next safe place for them to go and likely trying to find his family in the process.

The lucky student fought back envious tears. At least they knew there was a chance that Shinji’s family was alive– they found his mother, Aiko, brutally murdered in the Maeda household. Her corpse was bloated and rotted when they found it.

The sight still haunted his dreams. He couldn’t even keep.meals down since he saw it.

-

Mikako peered into her brother’s lab. He hadn’t eaten in quite some time, nor had he slept.

“Yamato…” she whispered hesitantly.

He spun around with a dart ready in his hand. He only lowered it after he registered it was her.

“Mikako, I’ve told you to leave me alone. I need to find a cure, or no one will be safe.” The inventor turned back to his work and threw a crumpled up piece of paper to the side.

“I’m sure someone else is searching for a cure, Yamato. Why not try to make a vaccine? Some sort of immunity would help while someone else finds a cure.” The exorcist suggested.

Her brother didn’t seem to have heard. That, or he was ignoring her.

“Ah… nevermind.” She straightened her back and spun on her heel to hunt down their other classmates.

For the newcomers, Satsuki was putting on a performance– juggling empty bottles and broken gadgets whilst telling jokes. That could not be safe, but Haruhiko seemed to have his eyes on her.

The bunker door heaved open, and Teruya’s team came in, carrying boxes full of food and other supplies.

“We’re back with dinner!” The merchant shouted.

Mikako rushed over to take the box from him.

“Thank you, Otori, this should be good for at least a week. You and your scavenger team did good.”

He grinned at her and handed his box over. “Thanks! We uh…” he hesitated, “We saw Taira and Maeda… err… Utsuro? On our flight back… they looked like they were heading somewhere… dunno where…”

She bit her tongue and nodded thankfully at him. “Thank you for telling me.”

-

Thats it. Im hungry good bye.

Aw yeah infection Au moment! I do remember you saying a while back that you wanted to write something about Rei in this Au and MAN her part has gotta be my favorite out of these little snippets.

I really like taking a look at how a bunch of the cast is doing, seeing the way you wrote them in those situations was pretty fun! It reminded me how much i like the idea of Setsuka's like group with the 6.5 cast and how Kanata probably wishes she has a degree in psychology to properly deal with Ayame and Kizuna (she may feel as if she's not doing enough for them seing as her kindness can only bring her so far when dealing with their turmoil)

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 14|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: Part of me has been avoiding this simply because I'm a dub watcher so I haven't seen the new episode and I've been kinda avoiding social media to not get even more spoiled than I've already been. However, degenerate Levi and Evelyn cannot wait! Also hit up my inbox I am in such a writing mood help me out!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

================================================

The candles were dimmed as the end of the day drew near. Poor sweet Levi just continually worked himself to the bone, and without his wife nearby to keep him in check he was pushing himself to the limits. His loneliness had gotten the better of him, which is exactly what Petra had hoped for, especially when she enters his office.

Immediately the smell of alcohol hits her, the whole room assaults her nose with it. Petra wasn't sure if his blushing bride new about his bad habit, granted, he had really cut down after marriage but clearly he needed a woman's touch to keep him in check. Her footsteps are silent as she creeps up to him, his head was down on the desk asleep, never had she seen him so peaceful. Her fingers caressed his cheek, trying to wake him up as softly as possible.

Being the light sleeper he always was Levi woke easily, stretching to loosen his shoulders. Petra was shocked to see him in this state, Levi prided himself in being well kept and professional. It looked like he hadn't slept in days, his dark circles more prominent. Stubble lined his jawline, a rare occurrence for the man who hated facial hair since he deemed it "unhygienic". His clothes were wrinkled and he stunk of liquor. What had happened to the Captain she knew and loved? How could one woman reduce him to such a sad state? Rage burned within her as she thought about how much Levi had suffered since Evelyn left.

"Oh, Petra, it's you. I guess I fell asleep. Don't worry I'm going home." He starts to stand when she pushes him back down into his chair, he stares at her in confusion, not expecting this. "Excuse me?"

"Oh Captain.." She laces her voice with charm and suggestive tones. "You poor thing, you look absolutely worn out..." Reaching behind him, Petra gently rubs his shoulders.

Levi frowns and twists out of her grip. "I'm fine thank you. I'll just head home and rest."

She giggles, trailing her fingers along his sleeve, working her way up to his chin and circling his ear. "You're so tense Levi, and lonely...my heart goes out to you, and I feel like I have to help..."

"I appreciate your concern Petra, but really I'm fine. It's been a rough week but I'll make it."

She pushes past him and sits on the desk in front of him, her legs parted just enough for him to see the fabric of her panties. Much to her annoyance he glances and then bounces his eyes away.

"Get off my desk." He states plainly.

She throws her head back to laugh, exaggerating it enough to try and give him the hint. He was so adorably dense sometimes he didn't even know how much she wanted him. "Come on Levi, don't be like that."

"For the last time, Captain."

Petra bites her lip. "Captain~" Her tone is sultry and she bats her eyelashes at him.

"Better. Now off my desk."

"Or what? Are you going to punish me?" Oh how does she hope he does, he seems like the type to get a kick out of that.

Levi sneers slightly, not liking her tone at all, and dressed the way she was, he should get out of here before she gets the wrong idea. "I think it's time for me to leave." He tries to be at least semi-polite, she did work hard enough for him she deserved some respect.

As he stands to leave, Petra acts immediately, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. Fireworks in her head explode, her dreams coming true, his lips were even softer than she thought. Truly Evelyn didn't deserve to have this slice of heaven every day, and Petra bet she didn't even appreciate it like she should.

However all of her high hopes would come crashing down as Levi aggressively pushed her off, sending her back on the desk. The look in his eyes was different, he seemed, different. She had seen him angry before, but never with this level of rage. Face to face with his wrath she understood how some Scouts quietly transferred to the Garrison regiment after having a run in with the ruthless Captain.

"How dare you- What could have possibly possessed you in thinking it would be already to assault me like this!?"

Now she's the one scrambling for answers, a way somehow to calm him down. "You seemed really lonely, I thought I could give you some comfort-"

"Do I need your fucked up version of "comfort"?! What part of 'I'm a married man" don't you understand you stupid bitch!" His eyes were glaring with hate as he inched towards her.

Petra started to tear up, never had Levi treated her with such aggression and coldness, he had never taken it this far. What had she done to deserve this treatment after all the things she'd done for him? Evelyn had changed him, surely that was the reason why they both had started acting differently after that fucking wedding.

"You're not yourself Levi, you're just lashing out because you're needy, you haven't been the same since your wedding I thought things were going wrong-"

"You're even more stupid than I thought." He continues his advance, the veins in his hands bulging out of his skin. "I have never been better since marrying that woman. Do you hear me? The best fucking thing I ever did was decide that girl was mine. You think I could want you over her? She is perfection you scum. I want a woman who will fight me tooth and nail while I hold her down and fuck her until she looses feeling than a whining lapdog. You get that Petra? You're nothing but shit under my boot, I kept you around because you do your job well. But apparently you lack an ounce of common sense that would think I'd take your loose cunt over my wife's. The fact you thought I was low enough to be unfaithful to my wife is the highest form of an insult. You disgust me." He pushes past her. "Now get out of my way."

As he walks out of his office Petra watched him wipe his mouth with the back of sleeve and spit onto the ground. That was what he thought of her kiss, it was revolting. Little did she know all this would cause was Levi throwing his weight around so Erwin would agree to up the extraction date and bring his wife home.

Hurt, rage, grief all filled her. She knew now that any chance of having Levi was gone so long as Evelyn was alive. Part of her admired him for being so true to his marriage, but the sting of rejection was still prevalent. Lost in her own thoughts she barely recognizes the solution until it presents itself in her head again. That was it, as long as Evelyn was alive. If she fixed that problem, then it would level the playing field. That was what she had to do, eliminate the problem.

=============================================

Peace in the Braun household was shaky at best, she was one of them sure, but still an island devil, Evelyn supposed in time that would opinion would change. Although that was never the real purpose of her mission, while the surprise pregnancy had thrown a wrench into it, she still had a job to do. It wasn't about them liking her, it was about them trusting her enough to wander around and hopefully find Eren so she would at least have something to report back.

Her room was really Reiner's, him being the gentleman and offering to sleep on the floor downstairs to make sure she was comfortable. The first night was the worst since she could barely sleep, always thinking she heard Levi's footsteps on the stairs or him moving in the shadows of the dark. A good portion of the annoyance her fellow housemates felt was no doubt attributed to her screaming in the night when it felt like the shadows were reaching for her.

She was ashamed, but more often than not these nights ended with Reiner checking on her and him sleeping on the floor beside the bed by her request. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty, despite everything she was married, and while their marriage was hell her thoughts conflicted as far as if what she was doing was adultery. However the fear that gripped her every night soon outweighed her doubts of what Levi would think.

Truthfully, she had deluded herself into thinking that she would just never find Eren and have to remain here. While freedom was limited due to her Eldian blood at least it was existent. She was no longer imprisoned in that forsaken house, left to the scorn of the staff and Levi's whims. Her taste of freedom was precious and treasured, she hoped he never came back. If she deluded herself in this she could do the same for when the child was born, delude herself into thinking it was someone else's. Maybe she could have a half decent rest of her life.

It had now been a few weeks since Evelyn had come to Marley, she felt that if anyone, Reiner trusted her. Whether it was guilt over the past or something different she wasn't sure. She found herself in the quiet wondering what would have happened if she came back with Reiner and Bertholdt all those years ago, he had a boyish crush on her back then, he was older now, would anything have come of it? He was sweet and handsome and treated her with respect, something that was in short supply these days. When he caught her looking at him like this, he'd blush and look away, the delusion slipping more and more.

She had come to know his world, the world he grew up in, the one that told him to do the horrible things he had done. Reiner was the enemy, but she forgave him, he needed that, he so desperately needed that. When she had told him he broke down into childish sobs, desperately asking why, how could she forgive him for everything? In honesty, Evelyn had no idea how, but she did, she understood him, felt sorry for him. It seemed like it was only natural.

Reiner had trusted her with being in his home, and eventually introducing him to his closest family and comrades. Seeing the look of joy in his face when she interacted with them warmed her frozen over heart. Her delusion was stronger than ever, forgetting about the horrors awaiting her at home. Maybe this could be home, Levi gone forever, Erwin gone forever, everyone, she could be free. This ideal life, happy with someone who could really take care of her, of two who could take care of each other. They were the same, broken and naive once. They had both been punished for the sins, what was the shame in living on from that?

Evelyn forgot about her mission, she forgot about Eren, to hell with all of them. They had left her in her time of need to that monster the law called her husband. Paradis could burn to the ground for all she cared. No one rescued her, why should she rescue them? Flatten the place and Levi with it, maybe then she'd finally feel safe. So when Falco had mentioned bringing Reiner to meet an old friend of his the thought of the past coming back to haunt her never crossed her mind. She simply watched the show, blissfully oblivious to the scene just below the stage.

But when Gabi had offhandedly mentioned that they had been gone a while she felt a trickle of cold sweat on the back of her neck, that familiar fear of Levi sending chills down her spine. It was impossible, he was hundreds of miles away, hopefully rotting in a jail cell, he couldn't be here, he wouldn't be here. She was letting her paranoia get the better of her again. She was safe, nothing could hurt her, no one was coming to get her.

These were the last thoughts to cross her mind before the eruption, the sound of screams and terror, the bright lights, the gunshots. There was panic, chaos, everyone trying to run away from the fifteen meter Titan slaughtering all of them where they stood. Evelyn could only sit there and watch as she was blindly tugged along by someone she didn't care to recognize.

Dumbfounded she trudged along, eyes glued to the scene. It was when she caught the look of those eyes, those damned eyes did terror come over her. Levi's eyes met hers, recognition filling them, the way he was motioning for her, he was telling her to go to safety and he would come find her. Only as he flew off to rejoin the carnage could Evelyn recognize exactly what that chilling feeling was.

It was the feeling of her delusion shattering around her.

[andordean]

Psst psst psst 🥔 Writer Asks 3,8, 15, 22. 19 only if you feel like it:3

(3) What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Probably "Business Matter" because I loved writing Tankred SO MUCH.

(8) What project(s) are you currently working on?

Three embroidery ideas, a translation gig with a short deadline, a slow stitch project... Oh, you meant writing, didn't you. Err. Well. ;)

(15) How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

Most of my fics have some theme song, and there's bound to be a fitting piece of lyrics in there. :D

(22) Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

Yes. I may not always know how exactly to get there, but the end point is always clear.

(19) Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

Have the "Ghost of You" sequel that stalled at ch2. Thanks for the ask! <3

The workshop is dark and quiet—a perfect hideout. A small window by the door above the work table lets in the barest amount of light, which may be enough for Regis, but Cahir has to light all the candles to be able to see what he’s doing. The flames flicker in an invitation as the smoke curls in the air and mixes with the scent of herbs—sage, wormwood, mint, horehound, basil—that hang in bunches along the wall and wait their turn.

When he began helping Regis three years ago, he hated this place. The scents made his head dizzy and his eyes water; he would only last an hour at a time before a blinding headache would send him to seek fresh air, and a bed.

Now, the little wooden hut at the back of Regis' house in Dillingen is his safe haven; the scents wrap around him like a welcoming embrace as soon as he steps into the workshop. It’s quiet inside, save for an occasional gurgle and bubble of whatever it is that Regis is distilling at any given moment in one of the alembics that line up the far wall. It's a place that brings clarity of thought—which is something Cahir desperately needs right now. 

He hopes he can escape the vampire's scrutiny for another few hours while he gets his head in a working order. He couldn't avoid the morning round of checkups on their patients, but as soon as they were done, he excused himself under the guise of refilling their supply of tinctures, left Regis to reign in the shop, and hid in the workshop. There's no better treatment for his malady than repetitive manual tasks, so Cahir dons an apron hanging on the hook by the door and sets to work. 

Myrrh is first on his list. Grinding the resin is a tedious and slow process, and as his mind wanders, the frustration he didn’t let himself dwell on during the morning duties comes back in full force. 

He’s been working so hard to rebuild his life. It wasn’t easy: he spent two empty years aimlessly drifting from place to place, before an overheard conversation in some village decimated by the Catriona led him to Regis. This was a turning point; following the vampire back to Dillingen, and later becoming his apprentice gave Cahir a new purpose, different to everything he was taught all his life: to serve, to obey—to kill. 

Yet despite his best efforts his subconscious continues to mock him, conjuring up stark reminders of what would not be—of her. Cahir is no longer sure whether that's fate or simply a projection of his guilt. Most of the dreams are nothing but empty, distorted echoes of the past—and if the rare nightmares are cries for help, he has no way to answer them, for the pull of destiny is no more. The righteous fire that used to consume him led him nowhere and left but scarred ground and ash. 

You cannot hold a flame in your hands. 

The only thing driving him now is bitter regret. There has been nothing but silence since that fateful night when he failed so utterly and succumbed to his lowest instincts. Her forgiveness blinded him to the stark reality, to the complex web of violence and hurt that entwined them so tightly, tied their hands and their fates. Enthralled by the fragile, precious connection that bloomed so unexpectedly between them he yielded to her wishes; her trust, so raw and unjustified, made him hope there was a way forward for them, broken as they were. That they could help each other. That they could heal.

Until he woke up the next morning, alone, with no word of a farewell. 

He was left with no answers. The memory of that night has been gnawing at his conscience ever since—and the longer the silence lasted, the deeper his dread grew. Did she regret it so much she couldn't face him afterwards? Was it her trauma his selfish desires only made worse? Did he take advantage of her in a moment of vulnerability, hurting her—again? It was her who was pushing for it, but he should have known better—

"I did not realise the tincture calls for myrrh powder." 

Cahir nearly jumps at the vampire's voice, and looks down at the contents of the mortar. The resin he's been working on is indeed ground to a fine ash. So much for escaping Regis' scrutiny.

"Sorry." He grimaces. "Got lost in thought."

"This much is obvious." Regis studies him with a slight frown. "Anything of concern?"

Cahir can't decide whether it's a blessing or a curse to have someone as inquisitive as Regis privy to his deepest regrets. 

"Not really.”

"So Ciri doesn’t seem to be in mortal danger?”

"Not as far as I can tell," Cahir says. 

Regis studies him for a heartbeat, but Cahir doesn’t elaborate; there are limits to which he’s willing to embarrass himself, and his last dream definitely falls into that category. After what feels like an age, the vampire nods and moves past him to rummage through a box on the floor, fishing out a glass vial. He takes the mortar from Cahir, transfers the ground resin into a vial and carries it over to a little stove in the far corner; atop it, a bowl sits, surrounded by a metal frame. Regis attaches the vial to the frame, fills the bowl with water and lights the fire in the stove. 

Cahir watches him in silence, waiting. The resin needs an hour or so of steeping in boiling water; he has a distinct feeling Regis isn’t planning to go anywhere in the meantime.

[forlornmelody]

Outlaws Chapter 3 – Teenagers

Rating: E (language, graphic violence. Smut in other chapters.)

Fandom: Titans (2018)

Ship: Jayrose, Jayroy, Rose/Artemis, Poisonquinn, Bella Garten/Pamela Isley

AO3 Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

Summary:  Poison Ivy has agreed to help with the search for her copycat killer. Or is it a copycat?

Notes: Chapter title comes from the My Chemical Romance song of the same name.

----

“Where’s my cash?” She wraps her arms around her bare middle. Walking the streets and the alleys in these clothes is a lot easier in a Gotham summer. By now the trees have all but turned, and there’s frost whispering in the air. 

“It’s comin’, sweets. Things are just a little tight right now.” He’s plenty warm in his leather coat and silk scarf. And his beemer probably has seat warmers. If she plays it right, she might get to hitch a ride home. Well, part of the way home. She’d be a fucking idiot if she told this john where she lived.

“You promised me you’d have it by today.” Strangely, the plant behind them doesn’t seem to acknowledge the change of the seasons. It’s as green as spring, if not greener. It almost seems to glow. 

“Shit happens. You know I’m always good for it.”

“I need to pay my rent, Danny.”

“And Danny says you need to shut your fucking mouth before he breaks those pretty little teeth.” He wraps his big hands around her neck, lifting her off the ground. 

“Danny! I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry,” she starts to plead.

“Maybe Danny needs to teach you a lesson, bitch.”

The vines of the plant stir from their other prey, stretching out like spider silk.

“Danny, I–” she screams as Danny’s feet are snatched from beneath him. They envelop him like a net and then they squeeze until Danny’s screams stop.

—

“You cannot be serious.” Barbara fixes him a stare before rummaging through her desk drawer. Where’s that scotch when she needs it?

“She makes a point.” Jason shrugs.

“She’s terrorized Gotham multiple times.”

“And she’s more likely to know who the copycat is.”

“If it’s a copycat.”

Jason leans against the desk. Barbara is half-convinced he’s drunk already at 10 am. Tim told Dick as much after his crash course. Can she blame him, though? It’s a miracle the kid’s alive after all this. “You got any other leads, Babs?”

Scratch scotch. She needs something stronger. “I’m telling you Jason, something’s off. Ivy can’t be trusted.”

“I know.” Jason smiles softly. “I know her better than anyone on your team. She’s my baddie, remember?”

Barbara snorts. “You’re an ex-con yourself.”

“Exactly. I know how these guys–er–gals, think. I’ve got it handled, Babs.”

She sucks on her teeth, already feeling a familiar tension in her shoulders spreading to her neck and the back of her head. “Giving Dick free reign with Crane is exactly what got you into that mess.” 

Jason flinches, just for a split second before he recovers. But the damage is done. 

“Jason–”

“I’m not Dick.” And there he is. The terrified teenager that Bruce picked up off the street, still trying to look braver than he feels. 

Barbara should say no. But it’s impossible to say no to family, isn’t it? “Fine.” Doesn’t make her hate herself any less, though.

The tension eases from Jason’s shoulders, and he sways ever so slightly before he catches himself. “Thanks, Barbara.”

“Don’t.” She wheels herself away from her desk. “This conversation never happened.”

“Never does.”

—

When Babs and Jason get to the van, the rest of the team is already there. Jason moves to get in the backseat, but the driver stops him. “Sorry. The inmate’s gonna go in the back. Arkham rules.”

Jason eyes the rest of the van while Babs maneuvers into the shotgun seat. He folds and hands over her wheelchair without a second thought. And then he sinks inside. There’s only one seat available if Pamela and her two guards are taking the backseat. And it’s next to Deathstroke’s kids. Donna meets Jason’s eyes and winks at him. Winks. Muttering under his breath, Jason settles in next to Rose, who doesn’t even seem to register that he’s there. In fact, she can’t even keep herself awake, despite the energy drink in her hand. The moment Jason buckles his seatbelt, she nods off, resting her head on her brother’s shoulder. Even though there’s at least two inches between them, Jason swears he can feel that familiar buzz of energy between them. Like sticking his finger in a socket. Fuck, this is going to be a long ride. 

“Is this really necessary?” Ivy shifts between a male and a female prison guard, flashing them her trademark smile.

“Standard procedure, Isely.” 

“But Gary, you know I’m harmless with this little accessory.” Arms bound; Ivy cranes her neck to draw attention to her inhibitor collar. 

“Rules are rules.”

“Stop flirting, Gary.”

“Just having some fun, Cheryl.” 

The guards drag Ivy to the backseat, and when her seat belt clicks into place, Ivy leans forward. “You mind?” Inexplicably, she has a tube of lipstick between her teeth. Roy shrugs and applies it to her lips with ease. Almost as if he’s done makeup before. Hm. Ivy eyes herself in the reflection of Artemis’s ax, smacking her lips with a pop. “Thank you.”

“Hey!” Babs snaps. “Give me that.” She holds out her hand until Roy and the rest pass her the stick of lipstick. 

Ivy rolls her eyes. “You know the lipstick itself isn’t toxic, right?”

“Just take us to the crime scene, Carl.”

“Yes ma’am.” The driver gives her an idle salute as the van rolls down the road. 

“You teamed up with Scarecrow!?” Ivy shrieks. The van swerves. Rose jerks awake, her arm bumping into Jason’s.

“Ivy–” Jason starts to say–

“Scarecrow!?” she says, louder this time. Before anyone can say anything, Ivy continues. “That motherfucking, narcissistic, patronizing asshole. You teamed up with him?” 

“Look, I know it was a mistake–”

She manages a sniffle. “I thought I was your favorite.” 

Jericho snorts. 

—

Jericho’s lost track of how many times he’s hit the bag. He’s barely keeping track of the Queen album blaring in the speakers. Right now, Freddie Mercury’s belting about his love for “Fat Bottom Girls,” and Jericho Wilson is trying to locate the same joy in Freddie’s voice. But all he feels at the moment is rage.

Five. Fucking. Years.

A throat clears behind him, and Jericho misses the bag completely. “Your right hook needs work.”

Jericho stops, staring at Adeline pointedly–the punching bag swaying back and forth across his face. “Do you want to talk, or watch me train? Because I can’t do both.”

“It’s been a while since we had a chat.” Adeline Kane sits down on the weight bench, placing a tray with a tea kettle and two cups on the nearby bench press. 

“What do you want?” Jericho grabs a towel, drying his face. T makes it easier to look in the mirror. But it also makes him sweat like mad. Worth it. 

“How are you feeling?” She says it sweetly, but her eyes are almost devoid of warmth. Something happened to her in those five years. Almost like she’s angry with him for dying. Like it’s his fault, and not his father’s.

His hands stop. Adeline doesn’t waste breath. Not anymore. “Takes some getting used to, I guess.”

“It’s a miracle you’re alive, you know.” Adeline pours them two cups, handing him one. “It’s not easy bringing a body out of cryostasis.”

Jericho blows on his tea, not sure where she’s going with this. “Considering all this family put me through? Yeah. A fucking miracle.”

“Language.” Ripe coming from the woman who has likely committed war crimes. 

“The words you use shouldn’t matter. It’s how you use them.”

Adeline sighs. “Just spit it out, Jericho.”

He quirks his head, holding up the cup. 

“You know what I mean.”

“Why did you lie to me about my dad?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

“A son needs to love and respect his father.”

“You just didn't want me in the business!” Most would throw the teacup and shatter it, but even on his angriest days, Jericho prefers to avoid violence. So, he sets the cup, untouched, back on the tray, and storms out. 

—

“Have you slept?” The team medic, Doctor Maya Owens, checks the vitals of her least favorite patient. Her brow furrows skeptically as Rose yawns. 

“Nothing but, Doc.”

Dr. Owens eyes her through her glasses, pressing on Rose’s wrist for her pulse. “Have you slept well?”

Rose lifts her arm begrudgingly, so the medic can wrap the compression sleeve around it, as she considers the question. “Maybe?”

“Blood pressure’s low. How much caffeine have you had today?”

“Five cups. You think it would work better if I sweetened it with cocaine?”

“I think the cocaine would kill you.”

“You’re no fun.” 

“It’s not my job to be fun.” She sighs as she makes some notes in her chart. “Looks like you’re suffering from adrenal fatigue.”

“So, what drugs will you give me?”

Dr. Owens rubs her forehead with her thumb, swiveling her chair to face away from her. “Just lay off the caffeine and try to relax.”

Rose shifts her spinny chair in arcs from side to side. “Not my job to relax.”

“Well, my job is to keep you alive.”

She snorts. “I’m not easy to kill, remember?”

“Death comes for everyone eventually, Rose. Don’t go around tempting him, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

—

“Daddy!” A five-year-old girl beams at Roy from his computer screen. 

“Hi Lian,” Roy smiles back, his hand shaking just slightly beneath his desk, where she can’t see. Damn, she looks more and more like her mother every day. 

How fucking dare you, Roy Harper.

I have to do what’s best for her, Jade. 

Taking a girl away from her mother? 

I’m taking her away from both of us. Making sure she turns out nothing like us. 

“Daddy?” Lian’s eyebrows crease. “You went away again.”

“Sorry, Lian.” Roy swallows, plastering what he hopes is a brave smile on his face. “Daddy’s just tired.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t– “Why don’t you show me what you made class today?”

Lian holds up a monstrosity of a construction paper creature, all clashing colors. “Look! He has five teeth!” She holds up five fingers, beaming. “I’m five, too!”

“Yes, Li. Yes, you are.”

Lian’s bedroom door opens, and an apologetic middle-aged woman gently puts a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Mr. Harper. But Lian’s got school in the morning.”

Roy glances at the clock. “Oh, sh–crap. Right. Sorry.”

Lian’s foster mom looks up at him. “Same time next week?”

Sooner? Roy wants to say, but he knows they’re busy. Knows he’s busy. “Yeah, that works great. Goodnight Lian. Be a good girl for me, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

—

Ah, finally. Donna’s tea has cooled enough to drink. She shouldn’t have caffeine this late at night, but the chai was calling to her. And these leads on Poison Ivy, or not Poison Ivy, as the villainess herself keeps insisting,  aren’t going to follow themselves, are they? Just a little pick me up at the ARGUS computer, and Donna will be all set to go. Just as she’s going to take her first coveted sip, Donna hears a knock at the door jamb behind her. The tea comes this close to spilling onto her lap, and it’s only her reflexes and training that land the mug right side up on the desk. 

“Yeah?” Donna calls out after she stops reeling. 

“Can I talk to you about Rose?” Artemis chews her lip. How very un-Artemis-like. 

“Shit. Did she set the kitchen on fire? Hack the computer again? Booby trap Jericho’s roo-” Artemis stops her with a hand on her shoulder, and Donna, out of habit, violently shrugs it off. She might have accepted the other Amazon as a teammate, but they sure as hell aren’t buddies. Not now, not ever.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong.” Artemis clears her throat. “That I’m aware of.” It might be the hum of the computer, but she swears she hears a crack in her voice. “This is more personal in nature.”

Donna finally turns in her chair, staring at Artemis. “You’re asking me for relationship advice?”

“Why not? You’ve had lovers before, have you not?” Artemis leans against the door frame, her head nearly bumping against the top.

“I mean, yeah, but–” Did a largely un-acted upon whirlwind romance with Garth count?

“Then you can help me.” Artemis leans on the desk, folding her arms. Donna imagines it’s supposed to look confident, if not intimidating but even with the other Amazon’s muscles, she can still see the slouch in her shoulders and the crease in her eyebrows. Now this was not a look she ever expected from Artemis of Bana Migdahl. 

“Eh–”

“How do I get Rose to��how do you say it– ”get serious” with me?”

Donna spits out her tea. “Rose? Wilson?” She sets her mug down, clearing her throat. “You’re kidding.”

Artemis, always completely centered in her gravity, shifts on her feet. “Is that one of your sayings or?”

“You know what she did to Jason, right?”

“She “fleeced” him for information, did she not?”

Donna snorts. “Mythology puns, really?”

Ah, there’s that trademark Artemis smirk. “We both know it’s not a myth.”

Donna rubs her temples. “Right. Okay. What I’m getting at is I don’t think Rose is…. all that romantic.”

“Oh.” Artemis deflates, damn her. 

“Wait, hold on. Does Artemis of Bana Mighdal want romance?”

Artemis levels her a familiar glare “Is that so surprising?”

“It’s just…. you never seemed to stick with one partner very…long.”

“Never mind.” Artemis turns to leave. Donna grabs her hand, stopping her short. She looks up at her, all that fury and resentment of all their years pitted against each other still burning in her eyes. “What?”

“Have you thought about talking to her?”

Artemis doesn’t answer–-she just slips into the hall, letting the door close behind her.

—

The van pulls up to a drainpipe, teeming with greenery. Long, white, and spidery vines crawl over every plant in sight, trapping them like a net. One net contains a distinctly human shape. 

“Oh god.” Donna covers her nose, turning a bit green about the edges. 

Barbara must have completely lost her sense of smell by now. “Fresh crime scene. Have at it.” She waves in the body’s general direction as Jason puts her wheelchair on the ground.

They fan out, and Ivy clears her throat. Jason meets Barbara’s eyes, and her lips press into a thin line. “I better not regret this.”

“Best behavior, Ivy,” Jason murmurs, as he presses the deactivator on her power-dampening collar. 

“Always.” Ivy winks, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. 

She steps forward, turning back to look at them. “Hurry up, would you? I don’t have all n–” Ivy chokes on her next word, and then she doubles over. 

“Is she–?”

And then Ivy screams. She doubles over, falling to her knees. Gasping for air, she chokes out, “I should have had more time.” Her skin pales and glimmers with sweat as she shakes. 

“Ivy?” Jason frowns steps toward her. “You okay?”

Ivy sways as she stands up directly in front of him. The plants around her writhe as she spits out. “Your seas are rising, and your forests are on fire. What is the fucking point of this? As far as I’m concerned, you’re running out of ground to stand on, Robin.” Rose pulls out her swords, Artemis her ax. Roy reaches for his quiver. Even Donna readies her lasso. 

Jason swallows. “I’m not Robin anymore.” 

“Then why are you still acting like a fucking bat?” She glares at Barbara as she gasps for air. “Why are you still running around with pigs like her?”

Jericho steps forward, his eyes losing their color. Roy stops him with a hand. 

“Ivy. I know you’re in a lot of pain. And you’re angry. As you should be.” Jason holds up both hands, his guns still in their holsters. “But right now, I need you to breathe.” He counts to four with one hand, breathing in slowly, holding it for another four, and letting it out at the same count, and holding it for another. 

Ivy’s eyes lose their glow, and the plants around her settle. “Who taught you box breathing?”

Rose looks at Jason, but he avoids her eyes. “Did you see anything we could use to find who murdered those people?”

Ivy turns back to the glowing cuscata, feeding on the basil. She shakes her head, stepping toward it. “One moment,” she says shakily. Stretching out her hand, Ivy says softly, “Hello, little one.

“She talks to them?” Donna whispers to Roy. 

He shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I’m not her bestie like Jason is.”

“Ow.”

“Something wrong?”

Ivy sucks the wound on her thumb, furrowing her brow. “I’m not sure.” 

“Aren’t plants supposed to be your thing?” Rose folds her arms.

“It’s like she doesn’t recognize me,” Ivy mutters, and then jerks her head in their direction. “HEY. They’re not just my thing! I am an agent of the Green–”

The amarbel shivers.

“That isn’t funny. I’m not being funny.” Ivy turns back to the parasitic plant. “What do you mean I’ve been here before?”

Jason’s eyes widen. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

Jericho looks at him. Had Ivy told them the truth or not? Was the former Robin’s faith in her misplaced?

“FINE. Show me who you saw here this morning.”

The amarbel unfurls from its meal, twisting and turning until it takes the shape of a woman, roughly Ivy’s height. She fumes, her fists white knuckled at her sides. “I already told you. It wasn’t me!”

“You gotta admit, Ivy. The resemblance is uncanny.” Roy murmurs softly.

Jason steps forward, stopping at her side. “What’s that on her head?”

That stops Ivy short, as if she’s truly taking in the form of it for the first time. “It’s a crown.”

[mariamadeleine17-blog]

cptsd

Memories have a tendency to take over my life. They vine their way through my body, wrapping their thick tendrils around the sinews of my muscles, working their way to pulsate my brain. They turn me into more scar tissue than skin, more symptoms than personality.

It fascinates me that the memories are not alive. As much as I  feel that they have a desire to rule me, to chase me into the open, even as I stay backed into a corner. The memories do not have desires, do not have any objective. They just are. They do what I feel I cannot - they can just be. I keep running,  trying to find a way to escape what hurts me most. I try to pretend that what leeches at me is not there, but my mind and body continue to react. Memories have changed me into someone who does not know her needs, doesn’t even know what she wants.

Please see my pain. Don’t look at me. Please hold me. I’m okay, no worries. I am aching under the weight, please help carry it. What can I do to help you? I am so scared, please comfort me. Do you need anything? They hurt me so badly, I’m not sure if I’ll ever recover, please save me. I’m fine, how are you? Please, I need to be loved. You deserve all the love in the world, and I hope I can give it to you.

When I was younger, I was told my emotions are too complex, cannot be understood. I am too sensitive/dramatic/would just embarrass myself by being seen. Over time, I hid more and more until I couldn’t hide enough. To this day, when someone can see my depths, I clench my fists. I turn away and cry.

My therapist diagnosed me with complex post traumatic stress disorder (c-PTSD) four years ago. I learned I was not alone in my memories, that by sharing them I would not be swallowed whole by them. Many others have escaped the clutches of their abusers, and I could do the same. I believe her, I trust her. These things get easier, but I am still aching. I function with a litany of disturbances.

A few c-PTSD symptoms:

Constant anxiety

Memory: I beg my mother for help with the Panic. I am Hyperventilating. I beg for anxiety Medication. I beg for reprieve. She snorts, calls me a nuisance, and asks what I have to be so anxious about. I am the reason for her anxiety. She tells me there is nothing wrong with me other than the fact that I am a Liar.

Present day: My heart races when talking to others. My mind is excellent at fantasizing stories about how everything is about to end disastrously, and it will all be my fault. They hate me, and it’s all going wrong. Something bad is about to happen, and I cannot wait for the other shoe to drop.

Nightmares

Memory: I had a recurring dream as a child where my brothers were hurting me. I try to punch back, but my fist weakens, my hand falls away. I know I cannot hurt someone else, even in a dream. I allow myself to take the brunt of brute force, knowing that if I take it, then someone else won’t have to.

Present day: My dreams tell me that those I love do not love me, do not want me, do not need me. They are just pretending to like me for now, but don’t worry, they will tell me the truth soon. Do not worry, I already know what happens next; I have dreamt it.

Feelings of worthlessness, shame and guilt

Memory: Maybe they did say it was my fault. Maybe they said it without saying it. I mean, they did say that my father wouldn’t have had to bash my brother’s head into the floor if it wasn’t for me talking. I guess I’ll keep that one close. Remember it for next time. Maybe someday soon I can figure out how to make the daily violence stop for a week or two. How heavenly would that be?

Present day: Everything that can go wrong, or does go wrong, must be my fault. I internalize blame that was not given by my dear friends. I cringe when something may hurt someone else. Where did I go wrong this time? Fault, fault, fault. How futile can my emotions be?

Chronic fatigue

Memory: I cannot fall asleep. I think and think and think and think. I imagine someone breaking into the house, my heart races, I can finally doze off. I feel at home in my anxiety. I fall into arms that are quick to drop me.

Present day: “How are you?” Tired, always tired. No matter how much I sleep. No matter how holistic I make my routine. All my muscles are perpetually clenched, stealing my energy, a thief in the night. I cannot stay asleep, I am so restless. So restless so restless keep moving moving moving.

Avoidance of talking about the trauma

Memory: I do not tell people about what my father does to his own children.

He’s a pediatric doctor! He has a shining reputation! He makes so much money! He helps people! He is so intelligent, so hard working, so loving!

And anyway, no one will believe me. 

My mother is the kindest person everyone has met, they always tell me. They gush over how sweet she is, how I’m just so lucky to have her as a mom.

No one will believe how she is a severe hoarder, mold and dead mice in boxes piled up to the ceiling. Well, maybe they believe her when she says how it’s my fault. I stress her out too much. Can’t I just be better?

No one will believe how she pulls me in so close to spit her venom into my heart (why can’t you be the daughter I wanted? You act/dress/look like a boy. You’re such a bitch. I don’t like you, but I love you.), then shoves me away and builds an ice wall around herself.

My dad is so funny. 

If I don’t like the way he says my art looks like dogshit, my body is an embarrassment, I’m only likeable when I’m quiet - 

If I don’t like the way he throws trash at me, locks me out of the car and leaves me in parking lots regularly, pushes me down to the floor because I am in his way - 

Well, I just can’t take a joke, can I? I’m too sensitive.

“This is just what we have to do, okay? Keep it in the family, sweet girl, darling girl, disturbance/annoyance(/scapegoat).”

Present day: I don’t really want to talk about it. How are you?

[silenthowls]

wonbin ,

( ... ) ‘my man.’ wonbin laughs as he greets the other, a firm handshake morphing into a hug. ‘it’s good to see you.’ his smile falters ever so slightly at the barrage of compliments, only to return in full force, ego stroked and aptly tickled. ‘you flatter me, yohan, honestly. it’s all just armour, isn’t it?’ he brushes his fingers over the other's lapel as if to knock away a stray piece of lint. ‘you’re heading over to the dinner, i presume? let’s walk together.’

Yohan was a meek child yearning to be held. Now, as an adult, he still searches for that feeling — complacent in finding miniscule hints of affection amongst violence and disdain. He has grown accustomed to the idea, after all. He has not yet woken up to this fact about himself, nor the ease of him caving when he is finally shown the bare minimum of kindness. His odd dynamic with Han Wonbin is testament to such a thing. Many would describe Yohan as openly mistrusting of others, quick to bouts of bitterness, but softens around the King who seems to have him wrapped around his finger without much effort.

From the outside looking in, he would have been utterly disgusted with himself for allowing such weakness to overcome him. He would hate what he allows, but in front of Wonbin he does not know himself. Or had this been the real him all along? Does the real him feel a strange twinge of joy when the other man goes out of his way to greet him so warmly with a physical ( friendly ) touch? Or allow a smile to grow when he lightly preens his suit jacket. It is a vile, repugnant feeling he cannot choke back — because he revels in it. Shamefully so.

"I guess you have a point there... But, you know, I'd really prefer be able to go to dinner in my jeans if we had the choice," that much is obvious; from his loose tie to the reckless way he tucks his shirt into his slacks. He, rarely, would ever like to bother so much, but the demands of the King's Club far outweigh what he truly wants. "Can you walk and talk at the same time?"

Yohan begins his casual gait with a slow step forward, and a light tilt of his head. "My curiosity is itching a bit, so I need to know... What do you make of all this? The pomp and circumstance sort of feels like we're in our initiate days again; about to be surprised by something that's probably utterly fucking ridiculous."

[separatist-apologist]

Could you do one where Lucien finds out about what happened on solstice but he and Elian isn’t speaking to him yet? I’m curious to see your take!

Look. I absolutely CANNOT help myself. If I had written that scene (and I am free, SJM), it would have gone down a little like this.

--

--

She doesn’t want him.

Azriel’s words rang through Lucien’s head, over and over on a constant loop, one he didn’t think he’d ever get out. He hadn’t wantedto overhear that whole conversation and, in doing so, was reminded why he never came to this fucking city to start with. He scrubbed a hand down his face, slung his bag over his shoulder, and slipped from his room. Feyre would be disappointed he left without saying goodbye but no one else would miss him. He could always make his excuses in a letter when he was far from Velaris.

I’d defeat him easily.

Lucien flinched beneath the weight of such casual violence. Azriel would love Autumn Court, if that was his first thought when it came to a blood duel. Lucien had no intention of calling one, not for Elain. He barely knew her and yet Lucien didn’t think she’d find the whole, bloody mess endearing.

He certainly had no intention of dying over a female that seemed to loathe his existence. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing Azriel’s voice to remove itself.

He doesn’t deserve her.

What would Lucien know about that, he thought miserably, his feet touching the first-floor landing. It wasn’t like he’d asked for her. If he’d it his way, the cauldron would given Elain to Azriel and the spymaster could spend eternity bound to a female that wanted nothing to do with their kind. He might have found it funny, the notion that Azriel thought she’d fall into his arms when Elain had made it abundantly clear she hated the mating bond.

Maybe he’d have a shot, then. Lucien stepped past the drawing room they’d exchanged gifts in when he caught a flash of that honey-colored hair all the Archeron’s shared. Feyre was up. Well fuck. He’d never be forgiven if he snuck right past her. He sighed and turned.

“Knock, knock,” he said before looking in. “Feyre, I thought I’d…” His words died in his throat when Elain looked back, her hands wrapped around her throat. “Never mind.” He wasn’t touching the red eyes and blotchy skin of the softly crying Elain with a ten-foot pole. He turned on his heel when something physically stopped him.

The fucking mating bond snarled in his chest, a physical beast that demanded he care for his mate. Fuck me, he thought furiously, keeping himself exactly where he was. He turned again, wary of the female that had caused so much drama. He wondered if she knew. Elain’s hands were still wrapped around her neck as a set of fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” He asked, every inch of him rebelling at the thought of comforting her through the rejection of another male.

Elain’s whole body seemed to tremble while Lucien warred with the bond, demanding it let him leave.

She doesn’t want him.

Lucien sighed and offered her a mocking bow while even the mating bond conceded. He turned for the third time, reshouldering his bag, and stepped out of the drawing room. Ten steps and he’d be at the door.

“Wait!” She called. Lucien’s whole body went taut as he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky.

Have I displeased you? He silently asked the mother, walking back to the drawing room. He knew she could tell he did not want to be there, that he’d been trying to make his escape judging by the expression on her face. Was she planning to torture him a little, on her way out?

“Can you help me?” She asked, removing her hands from her throat. A red rosebud hung from her pale throat on a silver chain, and it was clear she’d been trying to remove it when he walked in on her.

Lucien dropped his bag to the floor and walked to her, her scent a punch to the gut. Honey and jasmine and something warm, like a breeze over a sunlit sky. All of that was mingled with fear and the better part of him wanted to tell her no and demand she tell him why she was so scared. He didn’t. What good was upsetting an already crying female?

She swept thick, honey-colored curls over one shoulder and it was Lucien’s turn to tremble, his stomach bottoming out. Had he ever touched her? He couldn’t remember a time. He reached for the tiny clasp, his fingers brushing over the nape of her neck. He swallowed hard as the chain was freed, sliding away into her waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured as Lucien immediately put distance between them. His entire body was too aware of her and though he was angry, he didn’t know that he could stop himself from touching her again if he remained close. He wanted to guard her, to put his body in front of hers and snap and snarl until every male in Prythian was aware that she was his mate.

He reached for his bag. “Are you leaving?” She asked again and it occurred to Lucien she had asked him two questions and he had said nothing in response. He flexed his jaw, his back turned to her, and slid the strap of the bag back over his shoulder.

“I am,” he replied carefully. Elain wiped her cheeks with the palm of her hand and Lucien thought she was still so heartbreakingly beautiful, despite her hurt. Elain nodded, looking down at her feet and he wondered if he ought to just say goodbye.

“Will you be back?” She asked, her words nearly a whisper.

“Would you like me to return?” He asked, emphasizing her part heavily. Their eyes met again and Elain hesitated.

No.

He turned then, his anger cascading over him, intending to leave her in the drawing room. She didn’t owe him anything but neither did he. At least he was trying. If she didn’t want him around, he didn’t need to come any more than was necessary and he certainly didn’t need to see her.

“Lucien!” Elain breathed from behind him. He stopped again, cursing himself and the tether that bound them. “Lucien I didn’t…I uh…”

“I get it,” he said, his words clipped, turning to face her again. He shoved down his instincts demanding he treat her with care. Maybe someone should tell her to get fucked, even once instead of the constant handholding she was subjected to. “I’m the wrong male. That’s fine, Elain. I don’t want to be in your way.”

His hand reached for the doorknob when she surged forward, her brown eyes still sparkling with tears. “What does that mean?” She demanded.

He laughed dryly. “I guess you didn’t hear the little reprimand the High Lord gave Azriel regarding you?”

Her face paled.

“Don’t let me get in the way of true love,” he commented sarcastically. “I wish you and the bat nothing but the best.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not in love with him,” she half-whispers.

“You understand that’s worse, right?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. She looked him up and down.

“I don’t belong to you,” she began but Lucien rolled his eyes.

“When did I ever say you did?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You’ve made a lot of assumptions about someone you don’t even know.”

“Would you even be here if it weren’t for this?” Elain asked in return, one finger gesturing between their bodies.

“Would Feyre?” He snapped back. Elain hesitated and Lucien could see she hadn’t considered that. Something sparked in her gaze and Lucien waited to see if she was going to soften.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Great,” Lucien replied, yanking on the door handle. “I don’t owe you shit, either.”

He stepped into the cold, strangely pleased when she followed him out.

“What does that mean?” She asked, the door snapping behind her. She immediately wrapped her arms around her body and, cursing himself, Lucien began unbuttoning his jacket.

“Why do you think I ought to stand here trying when you don’t believe you owe me anything?” He demanded even as he handed her the emerald-colored jacket. She snatched it out of his hands and threw it to the ground like a petulant child.

“You wanted this—”

“The hell I did!” He interrupted. “Do you imagine I am having a good time, watching you desperately try to avoid me? Because let me assure you, this is not my idea of fun.”

“Then why do you keep coming around?!”

“Because you haven’t rejected the bond!” He replied, letting some of his desperation leech into his words. “And until you do, I’ll keep coming to Solstice and waiting, my entire life hinging on a choice you seem duty bound to ignore. Have you ever considered, for even a moment of your now immortal life, that you do owe me something?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” she whispered in response, all rebellion. Lucien couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, causing her to jump. Of all the things he might have imagined, her repeating his own words back to him was not one of them. He shook his head, meaning to turn and winnow away but Elain was watching him and he thought her lips curved upwards just enough to seem as though she were suppressing a smile.

Lucien offered her the same mocking bow he’d once given her sister, bending deeply at the waist, arms thrown out, so she knew it was not courtly in the slightest.

“Enjoy your night, Elain.”

“Lucien!” She snapped, very clearly exasperated. He shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold, which he barely felt. He took a step between them, hooking the lip of his jacket on his boot and tossing it into the air where he caught it and draped it over his arm.

“What?”

Her eyes glanced back at his jacket, arms tightening around her body and for the second time that night, Lucien handed her the jacket. She didn’t budge and he sighed.

“Take the damn jacket, Elain.” “You’re rude,” she accused, snatching it out of his grip. And though Lucien was irritated with her, some of his anger washed away at the sight of her buttoning herself into his jacket.

“Yeah? Well you’re spoiled.”

Real mature.

She paused and then she smiled, as if he’d told her she was beautiful. “No one has ever said that to me before.”

“You’ll forgive me if I’m all out of sonnets.”

She laughed that time. “You’re so mean.”

Lucien hesitated. Did she like it? He took a step towards her and Elain, to her credit, held her ground. All traces of tears were gone, replaced by the open rebellion staring him in the face.

“You like it,” he accused. Elain didn’t deny it. Instead she took the tiniest step towards him, so close Lucien could touch her face. He reached between them, taking a fat curl between his fingers, knuckles brushing over her cheek.

“I’m not a doll,” she murmured, eyes wide as she held her ground. “I can handle it.”

Of that, Lucien didn’t doubt. He knew she felt his agreement, shimmering down their shared connection.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted me to stick around.” “Good thing you know better,” she shot back, all teasing. Lucien, unable to resist testing his luck, dropped his hand and made to turn.

She grabbed his hand and his blood sang at the contact, the instinct to grab her and take her away from this place nearly overwhelming.

“Stay,” she breathed. “Get some sleep…you look terrible.”

He smiled, looking down at her hand clasping his own. “At least we share that commonality.”

Her mouth dropped open, eyes sparkling. “How very cruel of you. Will I see you in the morning?”

“If you’re lucky,” he replied, smirking. All his confidence died the moment she brought his hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“If you’re lucky, you mean,” she replied, letting go. Elain turned, flouncing back into the house without so much as a glance backwards while Lucien stood beneath the fae lights flickering on Feyre’s porch, hand burning. He tried to figure out what had happened and how they’d gone from crying and yelling to…insults and a kiss.

Still, he did as she asked and came back into the house and walked back to his room…where Feyre waited, a smile playing on her lips.

“Good night?” She asked him, making it plain she’d heard at least part of what went down between him and Elain.

“Shut up,” he replied.

[frostironfudge]

Tenebrous - Loki (AU) - Chapter Eleven 

Pairings: Vampire! Professor Loki x Fem!Reader

Characters: Loki, Thor, Fem OC, Reader, Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange

Warnings: angst, angst, angst, drug consumption mentioned, drug addiction mentioned, anxiety attack mentioned, humkour used as a coping mechanism, witch coven dynamics, vampire coven dynamics, soul bonds, hurt/comfort, canon level violence, blood drinking, blood, mind exploration, fluff, nightmares, john walker is a shit head, mild smutty content (make out), some shitty jokes, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.7k

Dividers: @firefly-graphics​

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

Main Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || My AO3

Chapter Eleven - Never Ending List Of Broken Promises

Yesterday Night.

John Walker smiles, his toothy grin. Even as he is bound. Has a few stakes scattered over him and is kept devoid of blood. 

But he smiles at the exposed brick walls and the the east corner where the camera sits focused on him. 

“Father won’t be very pleased, Thor.” John reminds, eyes piercing through the screen.

“Your insubordination stretches beyond keeping me here as prisoner.”  

Thor splinters the wooden desk, he pushes away from the desk houses their security system.

“What’s wrong?” Nia questions, getting up from bed when Thor walks in fuming, yet again. It hadn’t even been three hours since Loki, James and Y/N had dropped off the half staked vampire. 

Ever since Thor first spoke to John he was irked, he could not even filter the ire from Nia.

“He’s still acting like a smug bastard. As if he hasn’t lost.” Thor seethes, Nia prompts him to sit next to her. 

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his arm. Thor sighs, basking in the affection and calm move that through their bond. 

“We’ll get him to spill his secrets.” she assures. 

“I praise your confidence in us.” he smiles at her, softly kissing the bridge of her nose. 

“You’re lucky you have a to be lawyer with you, can get anyone to confess.” Nia does a shimmy to draw more emphasis on her skill.

“Oh like you did during your interning?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, I can and will.” Nia gleams, Thor moves them so she is sitting across his lap facing him.

“I remember that moment, you looked absolutely badass.” He praises tucking a piece of her hair back. He adored the red she decided to bring into her hair.

“I think you should do it.” Nia speaks and Thor feels the bond push him towards her more. He catches onto what she offers.

“Nia… No, I cannot turn you now.” Thor sighs, “We have a vampire in our basement I cannot be with you through the basics even if I turn you… Please…” 

Nia huffs, standing up but Thor grabs her wrist.

“Never doubt that I do not want forever with you because I do. It is the only thing I have wanted since I knew there was someone for me.” He admits, she looks between his honeyed brown and sea blue eyes, knowing the sincerity that courses through them and the words he speaks.

“Once we deal with John. You need to turn me.” She places a soft kiss upon his wrist, the one he fees her from.

“Baby…” Thor attempts to dispel her request, “What about graduation? What about Y/N?” 

Nia groans, “Thor, Y/N knows about my wish, we spoke about this the minute Loki revealed who he is to her. And I don’t care, I’ll pay the extra fee for an absentee graduation.”

“I’d like to watch you graduate…” Thor toys with a piece of her hair. 

“Thor.”

“Nia.”

“Loki.” Loki adds from the door with a grin.

The couple turn to the green eyed vampire. Who looks much too cheerful for someone, who saw their first date place destroyed.

“I do not want to think of that so please stop thinking of that.” Loki requests from his brother.

“Also I agree on the turning Nia, sooner rather than later.” 

“I knew I liked him.” Nia grins at Loki.

“You hated him.” Her mate narrows his eyes, though his voice is playful.

Loki clutches his heart in feign hurt.

“Hate is a strong word.” Nia defends.

The green eyed vampire chuckles, “The reason I come back is to pick up a few things for James and myself before we leave. Clearly I picked a good time since Nia needed the vote to swing in her favour.”

Nia giggles, “See, he is smart.”

“He’s only agreeing if his mate agrees.” Thor rolls his eyes. 

“True.” Loki agrees without delay, “How is the guest holding up?” 

The brothers exchange a look, Loki’s jaw tightens. 

Nia looks at Thor in worry, palpating the tension rising. The twitch by his eyelid would be his giveaway.

“What is it?” She questions.

“Nia.” Thor uses the warning tone with her, which he would apologise for later. Nia huffs, shifting away and going to the kitchen for water to leave the two brothers to speak.

She peeks at the door the leads down to the vampire cellar. She knows even if John breaks the restraints. He cannot move out due to the weave Bucky built around and anchored. 

Leaving the glass of ice water she pushes the door open as quietly as possible. She swallows at the silence that looms the small hallway.

The darkness is offset by the motion directed lights that glow yellow as she moves to the door that harbours the fucker who screwed with her best friend. And her best friend’s guy best friend. James by extension was her friend as well.

“Yes, take the deep breath to prepare.” John sardonically opens the floor for conversation.

“Thank you, I was thinking your skillset is at stake.” Nia puts on a fake smile, opening the door then shutting it.

“I’m surprised they sent you in without supervision. Grown soft leaning on humans.” The vampire laughs.

“Well, a weak ass, man-child like you do get the unsupervised humans. However fret not, you’re being watched.” Nia grins as the words have John flinch and attempt to move.

She takes a seat opposite to him, the only other chair in the room. It housed emergency stakes under the three open sides. Both Loki and Thor had taught her and Y/N how to utilise them.

“You should watch you tongue in front of the son of Alexander Pierce.” John booms, eyes ebbing to red.

“Oh, which child are you again? fiftieth? sixtieth?” Nia pauses, “Or is the list in the hundreds now?” 

The vampire girths his teeth and Nia feels Thor’s panic. Loki better come through for her. 

“How dare you—,”

“I just did, get over it.” 

John’s jaw drops for a moment then he closes it, why was he allowing himself to react?

“So tell me John Walker, how long was your addiction pre vampirism?” Nia picks a piece of lint from her jeans.

“How do you know that?” John looks bewildered.

—————

“Loki…” Thor looks at his brother then back at the camera, it was stupid to remain here but he was fast enough, to get there.

“I didn’t tell her anything, I haven’t entered his mind yet…” Loki looks between the human and vampire having a conversation, he had his suspicions that Nia may be a gifted vampire, but could that extend to her human frequency?

“I’m going down—,”

“No, look we’ll be there and the weave is in place.” Loki cuts off his brother, Nia had texted him before entering and albeit her move terrifying there was enough protection in place for her.

————

“It isn’t hard? As an addict, they would carry over their addictions to vampirism. Your patterns to replicate and keep falling off the wagon, gee, John. You were in rehab what went wrong?” Nia almost allows herself to have sympathy, addiction was a horrible thing to battle.

“I—, I was turned there…” John admits. 

She nods, “Well, it was not very nice of you to turn my friend into an addict and use my other friend as a pawn.” 

John smiles, “I saw you with her, every party you took her too.”

Nia’s smugness slowly pools in her throat turning into a lump.

“I brushed past her on various grocery runs. You and your mate, always there but never paid full attention to the heartbroken little witch. I had to help her myself.” He speaks condescendingly.

Nia’s fists clench, John cackles.

“Oh, you thought you had a read on me, Ms. Lawyer? Or should I say, Mrs. Odinson? Your blood is mixed with his, Thor is very smart, did he ever tell you about Jane? His one true love? He went to several witches, gifted vampires to return to the moment before father killed her. Just so he’d know if she was his soulmate. Oh, come on now, you think Thor saved himself for you?” John gleams and gloats as Nia’s walls crumble.

“Shut up.” She mutters.

“Oh sweetheart, I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. Has he been honest about what he was? Or has he had you fooled with his habits? Drinking only donated blood,” He snickers, “Has he told you about New York? Oh he won’t even turn you is it? If you want I will, just get me your little friend, I’m thirsty and she is due to pay me for the little gift I have arranged for her. It’s in my pocket.” John continues to guffaw as Nia rises up, her eyes full of anger, she walks towards him.

“Aw, is the little human going to attack me? Come on don’t me shy, I don’t bite unless you’re into that. Oh you smell like Thor but you have nothing on my little flower. She tastes and smells—,” John groans as Nia twists the stake in his right arm driving it deeper.

“Listen here you little dipshit. Your little daddy? He is not on his way to save you. You’re reckless. Stupid. Egotistical. One little movement and this stake goes into your heart. Then again do you want to die without having your little pills do you? What a sickening death right? No buzz, no thrill.” Nia moves back as the bond signalling Thor is close.

“You little bitch,” The bound vampire’s mouth fills with venom.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Nia leans in, pressing a small button in her jeans, “I can get her tainted blood for you.” 

John’s pupils widen, “But you—,”

“I care for myself above all. I can offer you a deal. Your father would just end her life, you know that right? She’s a witch. I can have her blood for you. If you comply. Think about it, sweetheart.” Nia moves away sitting back and Thor enters.

“John here was telling me about Jane.”

The older vampire pauses in his tracks, “Nia…”

“Soulmates right?” She gives a dry chuckle, clicking the button again, then moving past him and up the stairs as quickly as possible.

“Whats the verdict?” Nia questions the green eyed mate of Y/N.

“I do not know what you said to him the audio died out but, overall I think he may slip up around you.” Loki ponders, “Listen about Jane…” 

“I’ll speak to Thor about it later.” She informs.

“Alright. Just remember, he loves you. A lot more than he could fathom loving someone.” Loki gives her arm a squeeze and then grabs the bag, making his way to the car.

Thor closes the room behind him as he enters.

“Nia… Jane was my past…” he begins to explain but pauses,

“You wanted to tamper time for her. Anyways here is the muting remote,” she tosses it towards him.

“Loki didn’t catch my offer. But we will need that bag of blood next time. To seal the deal with deal with John.” Nia sighs, rubbing her temples.

“Stephen was smart to anticipate it coming in handy.” Thor offers in the unsettling aura that surrounds them.

“He said it was Y/N’s idea. She was saying it while ranting before the last attack when she was forced to consume.” she gnaws at her bottom lip, what if they would need more? 

They could not just ask Y/N to donate.

They would have to come up with a plan.

Twelve and a Half Months Ago. 

“Loki?” Y/N knocks in his door. Smoothing over her skirt. A smile stays upon her lips just two weeks since they did more than just making out. 

Her cheeks are warmed by the blush when Loki opens the door. A serious expression upon his face as he speaks on the phone. 

“Yes, I can understand, I realise—,” Loki is cut off by whoever continues to speak on the phone. He pulls out her seat for her. 

Y/N sits, Loki huffs trying to hide his frustration. 

Something starts annoying Y/N. 

She felt fine five seconds ago?

Loki looks up at her, sensing the bond being influenced by his own emotions. He attempts to calm himself down but the bogus accusations are irking him to no end.

“Dean Lynch, please understand that—,” Loki huffs again, Y/N furrows her eyebrows worried about what is the Dean calling about.

“Professor, I cannot take complaints like this lightly.” Dean Lynch states, “This is a serious accusation you were spotted with a student. Your own student no less.” 

Loki runs a hand down his face, “I assure you, that was a chance meeting between us, it is apparently so that the student’s friend is in a longterm relationship with my brother.” 

Y/N is bewildered and then her phone chimes her reaction stays limited then turns toward dread.

From: Dean Lynch

Subject: Urgent Meeting

Dear Miss Y/L/N,

I request you to kindly meet me at the earliest regarding a matter of sensitive nature. 

I have kept my hours free from 3 P.M. Slot free for you, today. I understand you have only one lecture given your student calendar accessible to us.

Please do not take this lightly.

Thank you.

Looking up at Loki, she turns the phone towards him. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He is going to drain the person responsible dry. The Dean keeps screaming in his ear; he turns the mic off.

“Say you will meet him.” he tells her, sliding the phone back.

Y/N does the needful, his conversation with the Dean ends and Loki leans back in his chair, palms covering his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, I should have kept better watch…” he apologises, still not meeting her eyes. 

Y/N moves slowly, purpose lacing through her actions. Gently she cupping his face between her hands. 

“It’s okay, Nia and Thor were there too. We can have them come in as well to verify. I could reduce how many times I stop by your office…” She says the last part softly, not wanting to stop seeing him as often as she was able to. 

“I enjoy your company here.” Is all Loki murmurs. 

“I do too, but keeping you having a stable job and me not getting expelled before my masters is necessary for the two of us.” she reminds him. Loki places a kiss to her palms, then guides her hands to his shoulders, pulling her in his lap. 

Y/N attempts to shift but she feels him against her thigh, “Professor, you seem to be very happy to have me in your lap.” 

He smirks, hands trailing along her back, “If I remember correctly, you seem to enjoy being in my lap, little witchling.” his voice dips low, the baritone reverberating through her. 

“Am I not correct?” His lips trail along her neck, pulling at the top she wears to expose her shoulder, to claim her skin with his markings. 

“Loki,” Y/N’s eyes close as his hands move over her hips, her breathing a little more frantic as her hips move against his, feeling him hardening and herself grow wetter. 

“A plea of my name? What is that you desire?” Loki moans against her sternum, as she grinds down harder and the scent of her arousal reaches him. Y/N whimpers at the friction against her, Loki sucks the skin over her collarbone and sternum leaving love-bites for her to find. 

“Loki why am I being summoned again, I just gave you a supply a week ago—, oh, I’m, I apologise—,” The door shuts as quickly as it was barged into. Loki was going to teach Stephen Strange basic etiquette.

Y/N attempts to pull away, Loki keeps her flush against him with a carnal growl that has her keen in response. 

“I apologise, forgot to lock it before well,” Loki sighs, smoothing over her clothes and her hair. He runs his knuckles over her cheek as she looks at him, her lips kiss bitten and oh so inviting. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Y/N quietly admits, worried what his admission would imply this early on in their relationship.

“You won’t.” He assures her, kissing her once again to seal the promise.

“What about the man? The Dean?” 

“I should have more control.” He looks between those very eyes that have all his attention. He can feel the warmth of her cheeks, he relishes how Y/N feels pressed against him, be it sweet moments or in moments where they would have to control their desires. 

“He is a friend, I trust him, soon enough you will meet him. I wanted to ask you if that would be comfortable. As for the Dean, I will handle it.” Loki assures again.

“I’d like to meet your friends… I hope they like me.” she plays with the button on his shirt, nervousness seeping into her as she glances at the clock. 

“Will you be there? In the meeting?” Y/N questions, not believing she could survive this alone.

“I will be outside. He plans to meet me at three-thirty.” Loki still senses her apprehension and panic. He turns her, to sit sideways across his lap. 

Y/N’s head rests against his chest, hands intertwined with Loki’s own.  

“Love, you trust me, correct?” he ponders, her eyes glazing over; accumulating unshed tears. Y/N only nods not trusting her voice. 

“Then, please trust I will make this go away. I promise you. Then you can come to my office as and when you please. We have a month before your Masters begins, have to make the most of it. We have about three weeks before the creative course ends.” his index finger catches the tear that escapes from the corner of her eye. 

“You promise? I won’t lose you, ever?” Y/N asks of him, Loki knows how much hangs onto the words she is asking. He realises she doesn’t realise the depth of those words, the promise being asked. She doesn’t care how much weight her words hold so early on, she cannot fathom the thought of losing him. 

Even entertaining the stray thought sends this bitter feeling through her and everything starts to hurt. 

Loki watches her carefully, trying to understand why this is affecting him much more than he thought. She was just a human, although bonded to him. This was just, beyond his understanding. 

Why did he want to mend every wound before she was even injured?

Why did he want to wipe her unshed tears?

Why was she his weakness, yet all of his strength came from her being? 

Why was he in love with her so deeply so soon?

Loki pauses his internal conflict. This? Was this love?

He utters her name, laced with emotion, she looks at him. He cradles her face in his hands, she shifts to look up at him. 

The stars surround them, dancing freely across their chest, twinkling in the new light through which Loki saw his emotions, anew. 

“As if I could allow myself to lose you, ever.” He admits meaning every word. He couldn’t lose her. His friend, confidant, his, his mate. His love. 

“Oh, Loki.” Y/N overcome with emotion buries herself in the crook of his neck, his arms wrap around her, keeping her close. 

They stay that way, till the meeting is looming over. Y/N’s stomach swirls harbouring the anxiety, Loki places a soft kiss to her forehead. Then holds the door for her as she leaves to meet the Dean. 

“I will be there fifteen minutes after your meeting begins. I, do not worry yourself my witchling.” He requests and she nods. 

“I’ll try not to, but you know me…” She half heartedly smiles, he half smiles as well.

With a wave, she bids him goodbye and finds herself gulping as she stands outside the office. Dreading even the kind smile of his assistant. 

Dean Lynch has a smile but it doesn’t exude kindness or purpose. Only as a fake pleasantry. 

“Have a seat Ms. Y/L/N. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice. The matter at hand is of a severely serious nature. I want you to know this is a safe space and nothing said herein will cause you any trouble.” He explains once she settles into the worn leather chair opposite to him. 

“I understand, Sir. What, um, is the matter?” Trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. Why, why, why did anyone have to rat them out? They made sure to go into the city. 

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, the thing is,” he produces a piece of photo paper and turns it towards her. 

The photo is from a few days ago, Loki and her are laughing as he wheels the cart. 

“We have reason to suspect you and Professor Loki are seeing each other in a non professional capacity.” There is a small ripple, and another picture is placed, the one from another night, where Nia had decided they would go to the arcade and play games and Loki tagging along with Thor was a lovely surprise. 

“Could I explain to you what is going on in these images? To dispel these worries you have? About me being involved with my Professor?” she looks up at Dean Lynch and he nods encouragingly. 

“So um, my best friend, Nia Bernad-Kahn who studies at the Law school side of the university is dating Mr. Thor Odinson. Who is Professor Loki’s elder brother. I did not know this until she introduced me to her said partner and Thor wanted her to meet his only family in the same meeting.” Y/N feels a bout of confidence, she prays that Loki doesn’t stray from this story. 

“It well, took the two of us by surprise that well, his brother and my best friend are together. Since it would mean nothing we didn’t think anything of it, nor do I visit their home nor does Professor Loki come to mine… that,” Y/N points to the restaurant side of the arcade picture, where the two of them sat on same side looking through one menu, 

“Thor invited the Professor out, and neither of us knew because it was a last minute plan and well being a Saturday, the place was packed and they only gave two menus, I can understand why that may implicate things to be not what they are in actuality.” 

The Dean takes a deep breath, then slowly exhales. 

“Miss Y/L/N, you’re a bright student, I have seen your assignments and I know you are remaining a part of the university for two more years. However, Professor Loki has been with us for so long, and none of the students have ever accused him of misconduct, I do not want you to be a victim of a manipulative man. If it proven that he is one.” He looks over her, his gaze softened and tone respectful. 

“Sir, Professor Loki has been very cordial and has not allowed the fact that I am his brother’s girlfriend’s best friend to impact his judgement or to try and manipulate me for any sort of favours to be granted. I would never allow that and nor would he ever try something like that, yes sometimes we run into each other at the only good supermarket in the area, and exchange pleasantries but beyond that there is nothing between us. I understand the cause for concern but I assure you, there is nothing there.” Y/N looks at him, sincerely stating her side of things. Desperate not to lose Loki or her to be career. 

Loki sits outside his hearing allowing him to be a part of the ongoing conversation, he was proud that she was able to keep her confidence and not allow her voice to waver. 

“Alright, I will be speaking to your Professor on the same matter in about ten minutes. If you would like to join— no you will not be joining in that meeting.” 

Y/N tilts her head, confused by the sudden mechanical change in his demeanour. 

“Um, Sir, if you want me to—,”

“Ms. Y/L/N, please, you’ve said enough already; I apologise for the duress this must have caused, I however, must honour the complaints that are brought to my attention. You may leave.” He uses the same mechanical voice and Y/N bids him good bye. 

Outside she finds Loki sitting in the chair waiting for his turn. He had put his blazer back on and all her mind could conjure was the way they were in his office. 

Loki smirks at her, as if he knows exactly what she is thinking. 

“Good Afternoon, Miss Y/L/N.” He greets, the smirk turns into a warm smile, the very smile only she received from him. 

“G-good Afternoon, Professor.” She greets back, “I’ll um see you in class tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.” He rises as the Dean’s assistant walks up-to them to allow Loki inside. 

“Professor you may join the Dean.” They say pleasantly, then return to their seat.  

“I’ve got it covered.” He says softly, assuring her once more. 

“Thank you.” Y/N wants to hold his hand or some form of physical contact. 

As though Loki can read her mind, when he turns to move towards the office door, innocently he allows his fingers to brush over the back of her hand. 

“Need it for good luck.” He has a charming grin on his face, entering into the office and Y/N turns to leave. 

At exactly four fifteen, Loki entered her home with purpose. 

Nia let him in as Y/N was cooped up in preparation for the masters that was to come. 

The knock on her bedroom door drew her out of the endlessly mundane thesis topics she could think about, opening the door to an eager Loki is not what she expected but it was a welcome sight for her sore eyes. 

Loki wraps his arm around her, pulling her close, he cups her cheek leaning towards her. Y/N loses herself in the kiss, clinging onto him, her fingers tangled in his hair as the kiss moves from full of emotion to want and into need.

He moves them into her room, closing the door behind him. Y/N is lifted up by him, legs wrapping around Loki’s waist, a soft sound escapes her mouth as she realises he carries and moves her with such ease. 

Loki hums, pleased at the sounds she makes just by his actions. 

When he feels her pulling away for breathing, he pretends to pant too. His nose brushing along her neck as he grounds himself with her scent. This is why he needed to feed more than usual so he wouldn’t trigger her response to allow him to feed from her. 

He couldn’t tell her yet. 

“I take the meeting went well.” She says wryly. Her fingers still brushing through his hair. Loki’s chuckle soothes the heat of her skin as he exhales. 

“He won’t be bothering us.” Loki affirms. 

“What did you hypnotise him?” Y/N laughs at the absurdity. 

He pulls away looking up at her, “What if I did? What if I told you you’re an accomplice to the crime of hypnotising the Dean?” 

His tone is light but something in the way he asks weighs the words down. 

“Then I would say that next time don’t make him sound so mechanical in speaking and thank you, for keeping your promise and that I won’t tell anyone, its our secret.” She kisses his cheek, Loki feels himself break open, as if the walls he had been building start crumbling all around him for her. 

He kisses her again, this time pouring so much emotion into his actions that it brings tears to her eyes. 

He rests his forehead against hers. His eyes peering into her own. 

“I cannot allow myself to lose you, ever.” He repeats, sealing the promise once again against her lips with his own.

Five Months Ago. 

“Loki, please don’t say what I think you are going to say.” Y/N begs of him, how does she have more tears in her eyes she thought it all would have dried up by now. 

How did a dinner to celebrate her presentation turn into an argument and now into what would effectively break her heart?

“Not to say it? Why? To spare your feelings? To spare your heart?” Loki seethes turning back to face her in his room. 

“I, I thought we are soulmates—,”

“Don’t bring baseless fairytales into this. So what I told you about soulmates? Have we bonded? No.” he sneers.

“You wanted to—,” she tried again. 

“When will it get through your head? I do not want you. Fuck, I’ve been dying to say it for weeks, you are a human, you cannot be with me. I do not care if you are my soulmate handcrafted for me.” Loki repeats and each word gets branded onto her weak little human heart. 

Her mind blanks as her past weeks with him repeat over, was every touch every kiss a lie? A ruse to just have his actual intentions masked?

The bond tugs harshly and the stars quiver in fear of what is happening. 

“I love you.” It’s a pitiful reason to ask him not to go, not to break her heart into two.

“You love the idea of me, from those stupid books, where the vampire choses the human. Well I don’t choose you, human.” Loki turns back to cover the wince that graces his face. The bond is being broken into pieces by his actions. He wants to go on his knees and grovel for her forgiveness to take back these words that taste as if acid upon his tongue. 

“Loki, please, why? If I’m not enough then, then you can turn me, I, we, please, look at me.” Y/N beds as she tugs on his arm, he does not move. 

“I do not want you, in mortality or immortality. I just wanted to know if my mate was there or not and what it felt like.” Loki pulls his arm away from her, crossing them behind his back so he wouldn’t dare to pull her in an embrace of wipe away her tears. 

“Please tell me you’re lying.” she begs him.

I wish I could tell you the truth. 

“Please, we, we can figure it out, together.” the desperation in her voice kills him.

I wish I could tell you about the darkness that looms over us.

“Please, Loki, you me promised forever.” 

I still will give you forever. If only I keep you safe from who is to come. 

“Forever?” Loki laughs, mockingly. 

Then it is silent for a few moments apart from the sniffles from Y/N that are a dagger to his heart that held her. 

“I was human once,” he turns to face her, still keeping distance. 

“Are you aware of what you humans do?” He pauses to gauge her response, when she says nothing he moves closer to her. 

“You humans make false promises, confess love from the highest points and then sink each other to the lowest of lows.” Loki cups her cheek, the action now tainted from loving to breaking as her mind begins to detach itself from Loki. Even if her heart harbours him. 

“Sweet, gullible human, when I made those promises, it was the flimsy little human in me. You mean nothing. It was fun while it lasted I suggest you view it in a similar manner. For now, it is best you run along home. I do not want to see you again.” Loki moves away, where his palm was once now ice cold. 

Y/N turns, rushing to the door, clumsily grabbing her purse and she moves downstairs. 

“Y/N, are you, alright?” Thor’s voice stops her, as if his hearing hadn’t made him an audience already. 

She wipes her tears then turning to face him. 

“I think you heard what happened. I would like to tell Nia myself, please grant me that much.” Y/N looks at Thor and he nods. 

“I’m sorry.” He says but it falls on unhearing ears. 

For only Loki’s words play on a loop. 

Settled into the car she wipes the tears away as the ignition is on their fight or break up rather had been a back and forth for over an hour. Backing out of the driveway Y/N has no destination in mind not even home. 

She moves through the known lanes and just allows her mind to function on auto pilot as her vision keeps blurring by the tears. 

Loki moves along her route, watching from the forest cover. The bond forcing him to fix what he ruined. 

Y/N feels this pressure on her chest, weight down, begging her to turn. It is well past midnight. She can’t go back. Not after her meaning nothing to him.

If she was worthy of affection or love people would stay. People would remain in her life and not leave her or push her out in ways that would crack her heart and scar her memories. 

She moves the car off road on the shoulder when the pressure on her chest turns into a searing pain. The tires squeal and create skid marks at the sudden change. Loki hunches over watching; his own chest is on fire. Wanting to burn everything in its wake just so she could survive. Just so he could have her. 

Y/N breaks apart into sobs that wreck her being. 

“He was telling the truth. If we were bonded, he would have been in as much pain as I am, didn’t even flinch, didn’t even try to—,” Her verbal train of thought ceases, as her phone begins to ring Nia’s face covers her screen. 

She picks up, trying to keep her sobs quiet. 

“Thor told me. Where are you, send me the location. I’ll come and pick you up, don’t drive.” Her best friend assures her, “You don’t have to talk, just put me on speaker and send me the location okay?” 

She follows through as Nia rambles about nothing in particular.

“Alright I have the location, do you want me to be on the line?” 

“I lost him.” Is all Y/N says.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry so so sorry.” Nia gets into Thor’s car he would drive her till Y/N’s car and then would retreat. 

“I lost him, I lost the love of my life. Nia, I, I can’t, I can’t breathe.” Y/N only breaks into a heaving sob letting go of the phone. The heartbreak triggering an anxiety response. 

“He’s g-gone and I can’t do any-anything to make him s-stay. He doesn’t wan-want, me.”

Loki breaks the nearest tree knowing there is nothing he can do, he cannot even rush to comfort her.  

“Listen, Y/N, please please do not go down that rabbit hole, stay afloat I know you can.” Nia coaxes. 

“He didn’t want me enough to stay.” 

“Don’t—don’t think about him. Not now.” 

“Nia he said so many awful things, I—I was going to introduce him to the faculty at that event. To Emery. If Bucky was here, him too.”

“Well Bucky already knew him.” Nia points out. 

“Bucky also left me, what the fuck.” Y/N suddenly lets out a humourless laugh at the absurdity.

“Are you going to make a joke to cope?” Nia exasperatedly sighs. 

“I mean, either I have some kind of curse or I’m just supposed to give up on the world. Imagine if I could tell Bucky, hey here is a ye old being and he can give you information from history, and guess what vampires are real! He’s a history buff he’ll have a field day. PhD right there.” Y/N giggles amongst the chaos inside her.  

There is a knock on her window and Nia waves at her. 

Thor watches his brother from the car, quietly Loki gets inside the vehicle. 

Y/N clambers over to the passenger side and before the cars begin to head home Nia pulls her in for a hug. 

Thor and Loki keep watch from their car. 

“Is it severed?” Thor questions in regards to the bond. 

“Yes.” Loki lies, he’d weaken their bond but not allow it to break. 

“Very well then, seven months later I shall see you, brother.” He pats his younger brother’s back, “I’ll keep watch. You can attempt to rebuild then.” 

Loki only sombrely gazes at the one who owns his heart, Y/N. 

Present.

Miles was going to cry. Sierra was already wiping her tears and Miles was just trying to keep it together. Clark had taken James Barnes to the next room to speak in private.

James had revealed to them that his coven was eliminated. In the most horrific of manners. Y/N sat near Miles holding his hand to offer her comfort and Sierra excused herself to wash her face. 

After the frantic day at university Y/N had hoped to find some calm, but it was quickly apparent that when you have a big bad vampire on the loose and his favourite unstable drugs-mixed-with-human-blood loving son. You cannot really ask for calm.

Y/N thinks over the small spell she read in her grandmother’s grimoire. To calm distress or just feel wrapped up in a warm loving embrace. The way Miles is deflated against her carrying the trauma of seeing his own coven end and also the horrifying ordeal of Bucky’s own coven. She feels this warrants that spell.

She begins to trace the sigil into the ceiling with her eyes, bringing it to visualisation and fuelling it with intent. Asking the moon to assist with her guiding light and the spirit of lavender to embrace in the warmth those who need the embrace. 

“Are you doing a spell?” Miles inquires and then shifts a contented smile on his face as he feels the warm embrace of his father surround him.

Sierra looks in the mirror and pauses as she feels her aunt wrap her love around her. Pulling her in for her trademark bear hugs. 

“I know in this fight you will be representing your own coven. Since you fight for them. I want to extend to you the offer that you may join our coven, once this fight ends. Your legacy may still be carried forward as a member of the celestial, James.” Clark placings a hand on his shoulder.

“I, could I have time to think please?” James requests.

Clark nods, then furrows his brows as he feels his sister hug him tightly.

Bucky is about to go into attack mode but then he feels Gramma’s warm embrace and is almost moved to tears as he allows himself to bask in it.

Y/N sits with a smile on her face as she feels the love everyone is experiencing. Her heart warms at the comfort she could provide.

Slowly the spell recedes when they warlocks and witch want to pull away from the embraces. They all join in back in the living room.

“Did you do that?” Clark questions, she pales thinking he is going to tell her off.

“Yes, everyone was feeling well… It was hard for everyone.. so I thought…” Y/N bit her lip, he held an expression that said he was going to tell her off. Why wouldn’t he? She was wasting magick.

“You did well. Holding it till we wanted to pull away. Thank you.” Clark gives her a nod of approval. Y/N wants to squeal but keeps her composure she looks at Bucky and he gives her this deeply happy grin, “Good going, Poetess.” 

“Now onto business.” Clark takes his designated seat and Miles joins in next to him leaving the couch free as Sierra choses to sit on the bean bag.

Bucky settles in next to Y/N as Clark and Miles begin to discuss what points have to be on the agenda.

“Who did you feel?” Bucky whispers his question, Y/N responds with a tightlipped smile. 

“No one…”

The smile from Bucky’s lips turns to a frown, “What, why?” 

She only shrugs in response, “I don’t know, I think I wanted the spell to help you all more than myself.” 

“Y/N,” The warlock feels his throat constrict, why did she always deny herself good things?

“Alright, so Loki texted me about merged nightmares.” Miles speaks, and their conversation is cut short.

“He texted you?” Y/N sighs, she didn’t want this out in the open and Bucky and her were going to handle it.

“We are working on it.” Bucky affirms.

“He said you both would play it off.” Miles gives them a pointed look.

“Take us through the removal of the compliance again.” Clark requests, both of them sigh.

“Ya’ll are acting like baby witches and warlocks.” Sierra complaints at their reluctance.

“She is a baby witch.” Bucky counters.

“You’re no older than I am.” Y/N swats his arm lightly. 

“Still I am older.” he retorts.

“Miles…” Clark trails off.

“I want to adopt them.” Miles gives the two bickering friends a look of adoration.

“Miles we cannot adopt them.” Clark covers his face.

“Yes because you already adopted me.” Sierra reminds, laughing.

“I can get more children if I want to,” Miles reminds.

“Miles…” Clark sighs, but looks at his husband in adoration.

“Clark.” Miles pleads

“Fine we’ll adopt them too.” Clark gives in.

“I don’t want siblings.” Sierra chimes.

“Sierra, be a good elder sister.” Miles chastises, she rolls her eyes laughing.

Y/N and Bucky continue to tease each other till Clark draws their attention back to the matters at hand, laying out a plan to entrap John to allow him to slip up.

“I have an idea but the soulmate may disagree.” Sierra opens up her notebook.

“I’ll convince him, provided it is approved.” The baby witch looks at her coven, including Bucky, who nods in encouragement.

———-

After a few hours they meet on the living room floor of the manor of the vampire brothers. Stephen accompanies them but is smiling down at his phone. John last was looking dazed through the cameras, four days without blood. Without drugs.

Waiting for Y/N to bleed for him had backfired.

“Is that Emery?” Y/N questions her head of department. 

“What? No— Why?” He fumbles putting the phone back. 

“It is them, isn’t it?” she grins at him, Stephen only gives her a small smile.

“They do have a crush on you, I think you are aware of that, I know other constraints exist despite the obvious one of vampire-human, the whole head of department and student thing. I, I hope you know not to lead them on, because department head or not, Doctor Strange I will vampire weave you if you hurt, them.” Y/N warns and Stephen only smiles in response.

She gives him a confused look.

“Emery is someone I do see myself with, I am panromantic and demisexual. So when the correct time comes I will ask them, I do not want to pressure them or imply anything untoward, they need space for their journey and I’m only happy to be someone they trust, and I am also happy they have you.” He explains and then is surprised when she hugs him. Stephen returns the gesture.

She pulls away, “Sorry I just, thank you for sharing, I hope I didn’t push you to come out to me, I just want them happy. You’re right they need space but I would also suggest not to let them misinterpret things or actions…” 

“I understand. You didn’t, I’ve felt this even before my immortal life, I will be telling Emery as well, when the time comes to share.”

“I am glad they have you as well.” Y/N sincerely states.

Stephen only smiles, Loki comes u behind her, placing a kiss to her temple.

“Playing matchmaker?” He teases and gives Stephen a nod in greeting.

“She is quite skilled at matchmaking I must say.” Stephen smiles warmly.

“I pushed Nia to get the gym membership too.” Y/N grins, Loki smiles down at her, the stars float around him and he keeps her closer.

“If I may have your attention.” Clark calls for everyone in attendance to face him.

Thor and Nia sit in the love seat, Stephen ops to sit on the sofa, Bucky joins in next to him, Miles takes the seat next to Bucky and Sierra sits next to him.

The L of the sofa is free for Loki and Y/N and they take their places as well.

“So, the reason we meet is one goal, have John spit out whatever he knows. If it comes down to it, we will have him die. We can blame another falsified coven since we cannot reveal Luna saved us.” Clark, looks at Y/N, then Sierra, Bucky and Miles.

“We have an idea to move the plan forward.” The high priest states, the vampires wait, Loki looks down at his hand intertwined with Y/N, who gives a squeeze.

Loki’s eyebrows furrow when he feels her nervousness seep across the bond.

“Please don’t dismiss it.” Y/N requests him and maybe the rest.

“We enter John’s mind with an illusion and Y/N, we allow him to think he won but we’re calling the shots. When he drinks from her we allow her blood to be exposed so he finds it believable.” Clark pauses briefly and Loki’s grip tightens.

“We have been informed her drugged blood is preserved.” 

All gazes turn to Stephen who keeps his expression neutral.

“Yes, I have two pints.” The Doctor confirms. Not meeting Loki’ s hard gaze.

“Will it be enough?” Nia questions.

“We can make more…” Y/N quietly adds, and a loud chorus of no resounds through the room.

Stephen exhales sharply, “I can manipulate it out side of her body.”

“No.” Loki says with a tone of finality.

“No for the blood or for the plan?” His mate questions.

“No, I am not putting you in front of John.” Loki instructs her.

“I can delve into his mind.” Loki informs the crowd.

“He is smarter, has been trained.” Bucky adds, “They have trained him against certain powers of vampires.”

“Not mine, if Zemo has trained him, his powers have a different essence to mine.” The green eyed vampire explains.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice draws attention.

“Thor do not.” Loki warns.

“It tips in their favour.” The elder brother says, referring to his ability to know when something may go in his favour.

“Thor, please this is madness, brother.” Loki runs a hand through his hair, “Fine add me to the mix, I will go in as well, weaken his defences further so the plan may work better.” 

Thor purses his lips, brown and blue eyes twinkling with delight as the plan does have more favourable outcomes than the previous one.

“It holds more favour than just the coven.” The elder vampire informs.

“All in favour?” Clark questions, raising his hand, followed by all of the crowd. A clear affirmation to the plan.

Y/N swallows, severity of the situation coming into further light.

“I can get you in,” Bucky tells Loki, “from there it is your show to run to weaken and then they can go in.” 

Loki nods, “I’ll weaken and when the distraction is in place will try to extract memories.”

“Stephen and I will be on physical pining down duty.” Thor announces and Stephen nods.

“I’ll need another donation from you however.” The Doctor looks at Y/N. 

“When?” She questions, wanting to get it over with sooner.

“I’ll get my kit.” Stephen heads out to his car.

“He’s something isn’t he?” Sierra comments. Bucky shrugs in response.

“Clark and I will be controlling Y/N’s movements inside, Sierra and Bucky will hold down the weave.” Miles concludes the roles of everyone.

Stephen returns, “Where should—,”

“My room.” Loki presses and Stephen blurs out of view.

“Gonna go make a snack.” Y/N laughs but no one joins in, “geez, tough crowd.” 

“Y/N.” Nia groans finally catching on, “Please that was horrible.”

“It is top tier comedy, I’ve got another one, guess who is on the illegal narcotics list.”

Bucky covers his face and huffs out a laugh.

Loki shakes his head.

“I just need a street name.” Y/N chuckles, Loki takes her hand leading her to his room.

When they reach his door, he pauses, turning to face her.

“If you are in his mind while I extract, things might be shown to you. If you are triggered you will retreat. Promise me.” 

“I will.” She assures as they then enter for Stephen to so his thing.

———-

The next four hours as the weave is set up and Bucky places the first of the descent for Loki, who weakens John’s walls and as Y/N appears in his mind John stops thrashing in Thor and Stephen’s hold.

“Oh sweet flower.” John cradles her face.

“Why have they cleaned you up?” John pouts, Y/N closes her eyes as he shifts her, titling her head to scent her neck.

“I have a surprise for you, I told your friend it is in my pocket. I want to show Loki what I did to you in the forest.” 

Her eyes open in panic, John’s mouth covers hers and she finds the taste of the pills more bitter on her tongue.

“How about we relive that moment? Hmm? I mean Loki is sifting through my memories.” John gleams as Y/N pales.

“Oh you thought I wouldn’t learn to counter your mate and his magic tricks?” 

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” Miles returns, “John knows it’s a trap. He is repeating the forest, what happened?” 

“Get her out.” Nia bellows, “The forest is her worst trigger. She—, it just get her out.” 

Loki steps into the centre, eyeing John holding his mate.

“How nice of you to join my flower and I.” John gleams, tracing his index finger over her face. Y/N shifts, whimpering when he tightens the grip on her hair.

“Do we show Loki?” He rhetorically questions having already decided.

“John please,”

“Oh she knows how to beg so sweetly, you know sweet flower, I took away another thing from you, via James, and then I took the memory from James as well.” John laughs, “ Stay there, Loki unless you want her blood spilled.”

Loki steps back, eyes red rimmed, his extraction work was still ongoing. He kept himself here for keeping Y/N safe.

“In one minute, you two are going to be out of my head, and the witch who cast the spell is going to undo it. So I hope you enjoy tonight’s sleep, sweet flower and my favourite warlock James.” 

Y/N’s stomach churns, what about that night does she not remember? It already was etched into her mind.

“Oh sweet flower, sleep well tonight.” He presses his lips to her neck and Y/N whimpers as she is thrown toward Loki, they retreat from Johns mind. 

Thor and Stephen place the daggers back again, all of them exit the basement. Stephen closely watches Y/N and James. Searching for signs of stress or otherwise.

The two of them stay silent. James’s heartbeat moves paces, the clock shows four a.m. 

Sleep wouldn’t be an option even if they tried the way John warned them the nightmare would be a shared one, despite the unlinking spell performed by Sierra.

Y/N worries her bottom lip, as she realises inevitably Loki will be pulled into the nightmare she wanted to keep from him.

“If it triggered you, you were supposed to leave.” Loki grabs her hand to emphasise the reminder.

Y/N glares at him, despite the worry she knows he harbours for the two of them.

“There have been enough broken promises between us, what is another?” She pulls her hand away from his grabbing Bucky’s outstretched hand as they move to the balcony on the second floor.

Loki stands there at the last step, hand devoid of her warmth. 

-x-x-x-

taglist open! just comment below to be added!

tagging: @camerons-specialinterest @stevesmewmew@pandaxnienke

[onceuponastory]

boyfriend - bucky barnes x y/n

"I love everything about you girl, don't you understand? I love you from head to toe girl, but I hate your boyfriend" - boyfriend: lou bega yes mambo no. 5 lou bega

Plot: Bucky is in love with his best friend Y/N. But unfortunately, his best friend has a boyfriend, and Bucky hates his guts. Warnings: Alcohol, some violence (but no abuse) and a small mention of sex. Also a small spoiler for TFATWS finale - just Sam's new job. Notes: So, my first Bucky fic is here! I've loved this song for a long time, and I listened to it again last week, and this fic was born. I recommend you listen to the song, because it's so upbeat and catchy, and I've tried to reflect that in this fic by making it more funny than angsty...but there is some angst ;) Oh also, Lou keeps calling the girl darling in the song, which is definitely a thing Bucky would do I think.

Also this is at least 7k words, probably even more. So sit back, relax and enjoy!

As Bucky Barnes watches his best friend Y/N sing to herself as she moves around her apartment, he smiles. The two of them have been friends for almost two years by this point, and hang out together almost every day. And for almost two years, Bucky Barnes has been head over heels in love with her. He loves everything about her: her smile, how gorgeous she looks, her sunny disposition, the way she’s the only one who can cheer him up after a nightmare...and so on and so forth. Y/N comes and sits beside him on the couch, grinning. “What are you thinking about?” She asks.

“Oh nothing.” He lies. Of course, he knows he can’t tell her that he’s in love with her. Especially since he knows there’s no way she feels the same about him. Before Y/N can reply, there’s a knock at the door, and she springs up to answer it.

“Sean! Hey!” She grins, pecking him on the lips and leading him inside, her arm wrapped around his waist. “Bucky! You remember my boyfriend Sean, right?” She asks.

“Yes, I do. Hey Sean.” He gives him a small wave from his position on the couch, which Sean returns, before being led into the kitchen by Y/N. Once they’re out of sight, Bucky’s smile falls. Sean is the big reason why he can’t tell Y/N that he’s in love with her. He might not know much about love, given he’s over a hundred years old, but he does know that you can’t tell people things like that and destroy their happiness, even if he wishes it was him she was with. Everytime he’s around, or even when she talks about him, a big grin is present on her face. And it tears him apart inside. But despite how happy she is around him, and how he knows that her happiness is all that matters, Bucky can’t stand Sean at all.

It’s not even just because he’s dating the girl he’s been in love with from the moment he met her. Bucky just...gets bad vibes from him, and doesn’t trust him as far as he can throw him (which, considering his metal arm, is quite far actually). He can’t explain why he dislikes him so much, he just does. And because of that, he refuses to get to know Sean any more than he has to, despite Y/N’s wishes for them to both get along. He knows it breaks her heart, but he can’t help it. He got through the last eighty or so years of his life trusting only himself, and isn’t about to stop now. But, his distrust of Sean for no reason is still confusing to him, so he decides he has to get to the bottom of it.

So, as soon as he can, Bucky visits another friend of his and Y/N’s.

~*~*~*~*~

“No, I cannot send Red Wing after her boyfriend to spy on him. Are you insane?! I thought all that mindless killing and spy stuff was behind you?” Sam asks.

“Okay first of all, ouch, and secondly, it is. I just hate HIM. I don’t trust him one bit.”

“Well...is he hurting her? Do you think she’s in danger?” Mulling it over, Bucky shakes his head.

“No. I just....think he’s weird and gross. He just...I don’t know! I just don’t like him Sam, is that really a big issue?!”

“It is when you’re trying to send The Avengers after him! And besides, if she’s not being hurt, there’s nothing we can do.” Huffing, Bucky rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you just spend time with him?” Sam asks. “I mean, you don’t like him, but Y/N has clearly got her heart set on this man, so there’s got to be something you’re missing. Maybe that robot brain of yours needs re-working.”

“Well, he did ask if I wanted to hang out, maybe get some coffee together a few weeks ago. And it’d make Y/N happy if we hung out more...” He trails off, and Sam starts nodding.

“See! You’re right! And after all, as long as Y/N’s happy, that’s all that matters...right Bucky?” Bucky is silent for a while, and Sam almost makes another crack at how he can hear the gears turning in his robot brain, but Bucky soon speaks up.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Sam starts grinning. “But I uh...I’ll need some moral support there. Some help...guy to guy, you know.” Sam’s grin immediately disappears.

“Ohhh no. No no no. I am not getting dragged into this. Whatever’s between you and this dude is your business. I want no part of this.”

“Come on Sam! Please?!” Bucky asks. “That way you can see that it’s not just all in my head. I’m not wrong, I promise. You can trust my judgement.”

“Ah yes, because your judgement has been so great before...” Sam mumbles, but Bucky doesn’t respond to that.

“And after all, I think it’s an important part of my therapy, you know, making new friends and all that. I’m sure both the doc and Y/N will be pleased to hear that.” Sam shakes his head.

“I don’t care, I’m still not getting dragged into this.”

~*~*~*~*~

“I hate you.” Sam whispers, glaring at Bucky from across the Starbucks table. Bucky ignores him, and stares out the window, looking for Sean. “I cannot believe you dragged me into this.” Sam continues to complain.

“Shut up Sam.” Bucky orders, continuing to stare out the window.

“Oh, you’re going to be like that? You know Bucky, it’s really rude-“ Bucky suddenly sits up straighter, seeing Sean walking through the door.

“Shut up Sam.”

“Hey! You don’t- ouch!” Sam gasps as Bucky’s foot makes a connection with his ankle in an attempt to shut him up. “Thank god his foot’s not made of vibranium...” Sam hisses.

“Sean! Over here!” Bucky calls, waving him over as Sam rubs his ankle, continuing to glare at Bucky. Sean heads over to the table and sits down, greeting Bucky with a smile and a hello. Then he notices Sam beside him.

“Oh my god, hi! You’re Sam, right? It’s really nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of Captain America.” He gasps, holding out his hand, which Sam shakes, clearly happy with the attention. Bucky suppresses a groan, knowing Sam will not shut up about this, and will think Sean is great, no matter what he says. “Gotta admit, I didn’t expect to have you join us, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well...I was in the neighbourhood, so.....Bucky invited me to join you both.” Sam lies, giving Bucky a hard stare.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. Both of you. You seem to know her really well, so I’m glad to hang out with you both.” Sean grins, ignoring or failing to notice the tension between Sam and Bucky. “She talks about you both a lot, actually.”

“Oh she does? You know, she talks about you a lot too. It’s nice to finally meet you man.” The pair turn their eyes to Bucky, who still hasn’t said anything, and continues fixing his gaze on Sean.

“Um, hi Bucky. It’s nice to see you again. How have you been?” Sean asks, suddenly looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Good.” Bucky responds, continuing his staring. Sean’s face flushes.

“Does he uh...does he always stare like this?” Sean whispers to Sam, clearly loud enough for Bucky to hear.

“Yup. All the time. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He does it to me too. It means he likes you.” Sam lies. Sean starts smiling.

“Oh, it does? That’s good then! Right, I’ll get the drinks then. What are you guys having?” He asks, heading up to the counter after both pass on their orders. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sam rounds on Bucky.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re going to frighten the poor guy to death.” Sam hisses.

“Well, he’s weird right? Something’s off with him. He just doesn't seem genuine.” Bucky fires back. Sam frowns.

“No! He’s been nothing but polite, and you’re staring at him like you’re in Winter Soldier kill mode. Wait, you’re not actually in that...mode are you? You’re not gonna hurt him, right Bucky?”

“Depends how the rest of this goes.” Bucky keeps a close eye on Sean as he waits for the drinks to be made. But so far, Sean seems to be doing nothing wrong or weird, and for a split second, Bucky wonders if he’s the one in the wrong, and that he’s just misguided. That is however, until Sean notices a pretty auburn haired woman is in front of him in line, and Bucky thinks he notices him look down towards her butt. Okay he’s definitely looking at her butt. His gaze lingers for a little while, and Bucky feels the rage building up in him. How could he disrespect Y/N like that? A girl just as beautiful, actually more beautiful than the one in front of him, and yet he disrespects her like this? “See?! He just started staring at her ass!” Bucky hisses, and Sam glances up from his phone, looking over.

“I don’t see anything.” He shrugs, going back to his phone. Bucky huffs.

“Are you serious? You barely looked! And that’s not an okay thing for him to do! I’m going to say something.”

“No. No you aren’t.” Sam orders. “You have no way to tell if that’s even what he did. And even if it was, you are not confronting him in a public Starbucks. Remember what happened last time everyone saw you fighting people?” He asks, and Bucky is immediately reminded of his face all over the news when people thought he killed King T’Chaka, and during the bar fight in Madripoor, when everyone was filming him, ready to post about how dangerous he was all over the internet. Even though he hates to admit it, Sam is right. Making this whole thing public was not a good choice. ...That doesn’t mean he can’t do it in private though. “Listen Bucky, I don’t get why you hate this guy so much, and sure, if he’s really rude or gross, I’d get it. But I’m telling you, I just don’t see it. And in the nicest way, I think you’re just grasping at straws here.” For a second, Bucky considers launching Sam’s phone across the room, and making him look at Sean so he could see what he does, but decides that’s probably not the best thing to do. Stay low and all that. “Now. We’re going to have a nice coffee with Sean, and you’re not going to antagonise him. Right Bucky?” Bucky shakes his head. There was no way in hell he’s going to agree with that. Sam sighs.

“Why are you being like this? Y/N is someone I care about a lot, and I know you care about her too, so why won’t you listen to me and trust me on this?!” Bucky asks, and Sam raises an eyebrow.

“Of course I care about her Buck, but I think you’re going too far with this, and I’m worried it’s going to hurt her in the long run. Trust me on this. This kind of thing never ends well.” Bucky scoffs, and is about to say that he’s not going too far at all, and if Sam just listened and watched, he’d understand where he was coming from. But before he can open his mouth, Sean comes back, carrying a tray with their drinks and some snacks.

“Hey, sorry about your wait. It took longer than expected. I know you guys didn’t ask for them, but I got some cakes too. Y/N told me that you guys love them, so I thought I’d get them too.” He laughs awkwardly, still clearly intimidated by Bucky.

“You did? Well thank you Sean. Isn’t that nice Bucky?” Sam asks, giving Bucky a look.

“Thanks.” Bucky hisses, glaring down at the cake pop on the tray. Sean starts smiling. He’s right, he does like them...just when Y/N buys them for him though. And even though Sam was right about not confronting him in public, that doesn’t mean Bucky has to eat the cake. “I’m not hungry though.” Sean’s face falls, and Sam sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, well...you can eat it later, right?” Sean asks.

“Mhm.” Bucky gives a tiny nod, making Sean look even more scared. Noticing this look and trying desperately to avoid the impending catastrophe, Sam starts up a conversation with Sean, whilst Bucky drinks his coffee and pipes up every so often with a grunt or a nod.

After a while, mostly filled with conversations between Sam and Sean and complete silence from Bucky, Sam gets up to go to the toilet. As he leaves, Sam gives Bucky a look, clearly pleading with him not to launch Sean through the window while he’s away. Bucky rolls his eyes and gestures for Sam to just go, which he does..whilst keeping his eyes on them the entire way there.

“So...” Sean trails off, laughing awkwardly.

”Let me get one thing clear.” Bucky says, and Sean audibly gulps, clearly startled. Bucky leans forward, and Sean immediately looks like he’s about to shit himself in fear. “Y/N means a lot to me. And if you do ANYTHING to hurt her, you will have me to deal with. You understand?” He hisses. Sean nods, still looking startled. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes Bucky...” He stammers out.

“Good. And let me tell you. Don’t think you can just...stare at other girls without repercussions. It wont end well, trust me.”

“But I didn’t...” He begins, and Bucky gives him another glare. He can see the guilt written all over his face. “Anyway. As long as you remember that, that’s all that matters.” He leans back into his seat, and takes another sip of his coffee. The pair sit in silence until Sam returns.

“Hey guys, I didn’t miss much did I? You’re both okay, right?”

“Yup.” Bucky and Sean say at the same time. Sam looks surprised by this, but smiles, clearly happy that Sean hasn’t been launched through the Starbucks window, even though that’s still what Bucky wanted to do.

~*~*~*~*~

After the trio are finished in Starbucks, they stand outside to say their goodbyes. Well. Two of them do at least. “Well, bye guys, it was uh...nice to see you both.” Sean forces a smile, clearly trying to not anger Bucky even more.

“Yeah it was fun! Hopefully we can do this again.” Sam grins, clearly not noticing the awkwardness between them both, or ignoring it. Sean grimaces, and walks away from the pair. Sam waves him off.

“I don’t get why you like him so much.” Bucky sighs, starting to walk back towards his apartment, closely accompanied by Sam, who’s still grinning.

“At first I didn’t understand why you don’t like him, but I think I do now. I realised it when I was in the bathroom.”

“Well, that is where you do most of your thinking.” Bucky counters, rolling his eyes. He already told him why he didn’t like Sean. In his eyes, there wasn’t much else to think about. Sam ignores the dig, and continues:

“It’s because you have a crush on Y/N, isn’t it?” Bucky stops in his tracks, turning towards Sam.

“Uh no, I don’t. Who says I do?!” Bucky lies. Sam’s grin grows even wider.

“Oh yes you DO Bucky. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. It’s SO obvious!” Even though he tries desperately to stop it, Bucky feels his cheeks flush. Sam picks up on this immediately. “Ha! I knew it! You like her. I mean, I should’ve noticed sooner, with the way you look at her, and the way you speak about her.”

“Sam, can you shut up?” Bucky hisses. “Please.” Sam’s face softens. “Yes..I like her. I think she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, and I’m so glad to be her friend. But that is NOT why I hate Sean. I don’t care who Y/N is with, as long as she’s happy and they treat her well, and I'm worried he isn't going to.” Bucky feels his heart sink as he says that he doesn’t care who she’s with. Of course, he wants it to be him more than anything...but life doesn’t always work out like that. After all, it had treated him so shittily in the past, there’s no way it would also give him the girl of his dreams. Bucky had learned a long time ago that his dreams weren’t meant to come true. But despite that, if he was destined to just be Y/N’s friend, that was okay with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky.” Sam says, sounding genuine. He reaches over and gives Bucky a pat on the back. “For what it’s worth, despite me not seeing Sean the way you do, your support and love for Y/N is really admirable, and shows how good a guy you are. I hope you find love and happiness with someone, even if it’s not with Y/N.”

“Thanks Sam.” Bucky gives a soft smile. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but it was still nice to hear. The pair resume walking towards Bucky’s apartment.

“I will say though, you gotta work on your anger issues.”

“I don’t have anger issues.”

“...Yeah you do. I saw the way you looked at him. Anyway, I know the best way to do that...video games at your place.”

“Why is it always my place?”

“It’s nice, and you have better games than I do. I have Y/N to thank for that.” Sam walks on ahead, and Bucky rolls his eyes. Even though Sam sometimes gets on his nerves, he’s still incredibly glad to have him as a friend. Even when he eats all the food in his fridge.

~*~*~*~*~

The duo soon arrive at Bucky’s apartment, and are midway through a game of Mario Kart when they’re interrupted by the sound of banging on Bucky’s door. Pausing the game, Sam and Bucky exchange a cautious look as they slowly move towards the door, not wanting to be surprised by something that could be The Avengers’ newest threat. That is however, until a voice sounds through the door:

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!” Y/N calls. “I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.”

“Ooh, full name. You’re fucked.” Sam says, clearly trying not to laugh. Bucky glares at him, before steeling himself and opening the door. Y/N stands there, her arms folded and a glare on her face. “Oh she looks like you when she glares.” Sam whispers loud enough for just Bucky to hear.

“Um...hey Y/N.” Bucky gives her a small wave.

“Don’t ‘hey Y/N’ me asshole. I need to talk to you.” She orders, walking into the apartment. “Oh, hi Sam. Can I speak to Bucky please? Alone?” She asks, almost hissing the words.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Sam responds, holding his hands up in surrender and leaving the room, taking a bowl of M&Ms with him. As soon as the door clicks shut behind Sam, Y/N unleashes her anger on Bucky.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She asks. For a second, Bucky almost responds with ‘many, many things’ but he realises that might be the wrong thing to say. Y/N does not look like she can handle jokes right now. “Sean told me about your coffee date. I know you’re not the best person with socialising but GOD Bucky, are you even trying to be civil to him?”

“Doll, listen...” Bucky begins, but she cuts him off.

“Nope. Nuh uh. You do not get to call me that right now. And I’m not even finished speaking.” Bucky takes the hint and shuts up. “Everytime he speaks, or even breathes, you look like you want to wring his neck!”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! I’ve seen it! And not even that, you THREATENED HIM!”

“Hey, I’m just being protective of you!” Bucky defends, trying not to feel bad. This is their first fight...ever, and he hates it. Especially because he’s trying to protect Y/N, and she just won’t listen.

“That’s not being protective! That’s being weird and creepy!”

“Exactly what I said!” Sam calls from the other room.

“Thanks Sam.” Bucky and Y/N say in unison. They both look at each other, the argument the last thing on their minds. “...Jinx.” Bucky whispers, smiling. For a second, a smile creeps its way onto Y/N’s face, and Bucky feels hopeful that they can have a civil conversation. But then, Y/N clearly remembers where she is, and the smile falls.

“Bucky...please don’t do that. Please don’t.” She pleads. She looks sad to be fighting with him, and Bucky feels a pang in his chest. Both about their fight, and about what he needs to tell her.

“I’m sorry d-Y/N.” He quickly clarifies. He takes a seat on his couch, beckoning for her to join him, which she does. He takes her hands in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles with his non metal hand. “It may seem like I’ve been too hard on Sean, but trust me, I do have my reasons.” Y/N frowns, and Bucky continues. “When we were out...I saw him staring at another girl. He definitely stared at her butt. And because I care about you, I wanted him to know that wasn’t acceptable, and if he hurts you, he’ll have to answer to me.” Y/N is silent for a few seconds, frowning as she takes it all in. Bucky waits patiently, waiting to support her when she needs it. Finally, she speaks.

“Oh my god...” She begins. But just as Bucky is about to comfort her, she finishes her sentence. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” She scoffs. Bucky starts frowning, and before he can speak, Y/N stands up, pulling her hands out of his grasp. “I can’t believe you Bucky. First you threaten my boyfriend, and now you stoop so low to make up lies about him! I know you don't like him, but even so, that's no excuse.”

“B-But I didn’t! I saw it!” Bucky stammers, quickly getting up.

“Oh you did, did you? Did you also see a unicorn? Did you see a flying pig? Come on Bucky, just tell me the truth. You didn’t see those things because they don’t exist. I know he wouldn’t do that to me.”

“...And you don’t trust me?” He asks.

“I thought I did, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” She replies. Bucky swears he feels his heart shatter in that moment. A mixture of anger and pain begin to build in his stomach, and he feels tears welling up in his eyes. “I know. Why don’t we ask Sam what he saw?” She asks, walking towards the room. Bucky gasps, trying to reach out and stop her.

“No...no you don’t have to.” Scoffing, she turns around.

“Why? Because he didn’t see it?” She asks. Instead of letting him answer, she opens the door to a startled Sam, still clutching the bowl. “Sam. Did you see what Bucky said he saw? Did Sean cheat on me with a girl in Starbucks?”

“Well, I personally didn’t see it, but-“

“And that’s all I need.” Y/N sighs. She turns back to Bucky, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Just...I don’t know what I can say to you.” She sniffles. “I thought you were my friend.”

“Doll, I am, I swear-“

“I SAID DON’T CALL ME THAT!” She snaps, tears spilling from her eyes. “I...I need to go. Sean’s waiting on me. Just. Leave us alone please. I can’t be friends with you if you can’t respect me and my relationship. If you want to apologise, you know where to find me.” She starts walking towards the front door.

“Wait.” Bucky gasps, and Y/N stops in her tracks. “Please believe me Y/N. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” She stays silent. “Please Y/N.” Bucky repeats, moving closer towards her. When he sees he’s getting no response, he feels the anger rising. “I’m not apologising for being right!” He says louder than he expected to. Y/N sniffles again, and Bucky immediately regrets his tone.

“Well....I guess this is goodbye then.” Y/N says, and Bucky can hear her start to cry. ”Goodbye Bucky. Bye Sam.” Without another word, she opens the door of Bucky’s apartment and leaves, closing the door behind her.

Bucky stands there for what feels like an eternity, just staring at the door. Part of him knows he should run after her, but it feels like his feet are rooted to the ground. So instead, he stands there, waiting for the slim chance of her coming back. At this point, he doesn’t even care who’s right or wrong...he just wants to apologise to her and have her back in his life. As time goes on, he slowly starts to accept she’s not coming back. When he said he felt his heart shatter before, this feels like the tiny shards were stabbing him, and piercing every part of him. And despite everything Bucky has been through, the fights, the torture, the nightmares...this pain hurts more than anything he’s ever experienced in his life.

“Bucky...” He registers Sam’s voice from beside him, but can’t even say anything back to him. “Are you....are you alright?” Sam asks. Bucky can tell from his voice that he knows he’s asking a dumb question. How the hell could anyone be okay after an argument like that? But he knows that Sam’s a therapist, and that’s what they do. His own doc would do the same. But the question still made him realise that he is definitely not okay. A tear falls from his eyes and rolls down his cheek, and Bucky says the only thing he’s able to say.

“I’ve lost her forever Sam.”

~*~*~*~*~

In the weeks after his argument with Y/N, Bucky has become even more reclusive than he is usually. He barely leaves his apartment, only venturing outside to go to his appointments or to get food. Aside from seeing his doctor and occasionally replying to Sam’s texts, he has no other social interactions. Y/N was his everything: his best friend...actually, his only friend, and one of the only girls he’s ever loved. And now, she was gone. And it was like Bucky’s happiness and joy for life left with her. After all, she was usually the reason why he was happy. Well...the only reason.

But he doesn’t judge her for being upset at him. Bucky has started to blame himself for what happened. Maybe he had seen things that didn’t exist, or taken things the wrong way. All he wants to do is go over to Y/N’s apartment, apologise to her and get her back. He doesn’t even care about being with her, he just wants to be her friend again. Unfortunately, Bucky is far too scared to do it. The last time they saw each other was filled with so much pain and tears, he didn’t want to put them both through that again. That and he was terrified it wouldn’t work out, and that he’d never see her again. So instead, he did nothing. He felt horrible about it, but he knew it was the best option, and nobody else would get hurt.

However, one day, Bucky has decided he’s fed up with being stuck in his apartment, and chooses to go for a walk. Once he is outside, he walks towards the park. As he walks, he takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sun on his skin. He just wishes Y/N was here with him. Memories flash through his mind of spending time with her, having picnics together, buying ice creams for each other, giving her piggy back rides, running for shelter in the rain, playing catch and almost hitting people in the face because he forgot about the true strength of his arm. The memories are full of laughter, and Bucky almost starts laughing as he remembers them. But then he remembers that they’re not friends anymore, and his smile fades. He continues walking, trying his best to ignore the guilt.

As he looks around, he looks up and sees a familiar face from across the park, stopping him in his tracks. Is that...Sean? It definitely looks like him. Bucky realises he’s finally been granted a second chance. All he has to do is go over there, apologise and then everything would be better again. But as he’s making his way over to him, Bucky realises he’s not alone. Sean is accompanied by a woman. A woman who definitely isn’t Y/N. Although the can feel anger rising within him, Bucky takes a deep breath. Maybe he got it wrong again, and this isn’t Sean, or the woman he’s with is a distant relative? Or a friend? ...And then Sean pulls her close, and kisses her on the lips. Okaaaay....maybe Sean somehow has an identical twin who just so happens to live in the same town as them, and who neither he nor Y/N have mentioned before? Bucky suddenly realises the pair are heading towards him, and he’ll have to hide, or risk being discovered.

Thankfully, even though Bucky is still trying to forget the time he spent as the Winter Soldier, he hasn’t forgotten the stealth that came with it. So, he manages to find a hiding spot. Unfortunately, the park isn’t the best and most stealthiest place to hide, especially not for a man with a metal arm. So, Bucky has to resort to turning away and using his jacket’s collar as a form of protection. Thankfully, neither notice him, and walk past him. As they do, he hears a part of their conversation:

“Sean! You’re so bad!” She laughs.

“Can you blame me? You’re just so gorgeous baby.” Bucky feels his fists clenching as the reality begins to sink in. He was right. Sean is cheating on Y/N. He’s cheating on his best friend and the girl he’s been in love with since they first met. Bucky almost runs after Sean and confronts him. But before he does, his mind pictures Y/N, sifting alone in her apartment, completely unaware of the truth. And he realises what he has to do. So he starts to run towards her apartment.

On the way there, all Bucky can think about is the heartbreak that will be on her face when he tells her the truth. It’s going to break both of their hearts, but he has to do it. Soon, he reaches her building, and heads up to her apartment. As he knocks, he hopes to every god that she’s not in, so he doesn’t have to break the bad news to her. But despite all his hopes, the door opens, and Y/N peeks out. A smile grows onto her face when she sees Bucky, which causes another pang at his heart. How can he do this to her?

“Bucky...hi.” She smiles. “I was wondering if you’d come round. I need to talk to you. I-“

“Y/N listen.” Bucky cuts her off. She looks at him, her eyes curious. Sighing, he continues. “I have to tell you something. I was just at the park, and I saw Sean with another girl.” Y/N scoffs, and almost cuts in, but Bucky continues. “Please, hear me out. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I did see it, I promise. And the way they spoke about each other....I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously Bucky? You’re doing this again?” She sighs. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you. I trust Sean. I know you don’t trust him, but I know him better than you do. He wouldn’t do this. You don’t need to lie about him.” Bucky feels himself deflate slightly at that. Why won’t she believe him? Okay, maybe the first time, it was unbelievable, but now?

“...That’s not it at all! I’m just trying to protect you!” Bucky says. Y/N looks at him, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“Well, I appreciate it, but I really don’t need you to. Sean and I were talking and-“ Bucky groans. That’s just what he needed. “And maybe...I don’t know, you’re jealous? Or you’re upset that I’m not spending as much time with you? If you are that’s okay, I’d understand. You don’t have to make up these lies. Both Sean and I are willing to sit and chat with you about this if you want, or I can come with you to your next therapy appointment if that’s easier.”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not lying. Please...why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I love him, and he loves me. When I'm with him, I'm happy, and so is he. Why would he do anything to jeopardise that?” Bucky feels his heart break again. Especially because he knows Sean doesn’t love her as much as he says he does. “Look, why don’t you come in for some tea, or a beer?” She offers, standing aside for him. Close to tears again, Bucky shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Y/N. But I can’t. If you don’t want to hear the truth because you’re so in love, I..I guess I understand. But I can’t stay here and watch you both together, knowing the kind of person he is.” He reaches out and gently takes her hands in his. “If you need me, you know where to find me. If not...well, I guess this is goodbye.” He whispers. He can see her face fall, and he turns and walks away. Bucky manages to maintain a straight face until he reaches the elevator, and then...he lets the tears fall.

 ~*~*~*~*~ 

In the days after Bucky said goodbye to Y/N, he feels even worse than he did the first time. This time feels more final. Now he doesn’t venture out of his apartment at all. Sam has been trying his best to talk to him, and get him outside, but Bucky has been ignoring him. He knows he shouldn’t be ignoring his friend, especially after losing one already...but by this point, Bucky has decided that he might as well lose all his friends at this point. He just doesn’t care anymore.

One day, almost two weeks since Bucky said goodbye to Y/N, he gets up around the middle of the afternoon, ready to spend this day like any other. But he’s soon stopped by a knock on his door. “Go away Sam!” He calls. But the knocking continues. “I’m not answering the door!” But still, the knocking doesn't stop. Bucky huffs, and stomps towards the door, flinging it open. “Sam! I told you to leave me alo-....Oh.” There, stands Y/N, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her there, Bucky is silent for a while. Part of him is convinced he’s still dreaming, and almost pinches himself to check he isn’t. But before he can do that, Y/N speaks, her voice shaky. 

“I owe you an apology.” Bucky stands aside, letting her in, which she gladly accepts. She sits on his couch, bringing her knees up to her face as Bucky closes the door. 

 “Do you uh..do you want something to drink? Or eat?” He offers. Y/N shakes her head, and Bucky sits down beside her. “What happened?” He asks, although he already has a feeling what it is. 

 “Well...you were right. He cheated on me. I uh...I came home from work early, and went over to his place to surprise him. I let myself in and...he was fucking some girl on the couch. Guess I got the surprise.” She sniffles again, before bursting into tears.

“Oh doll...” Bucky soothes. “Come here.” He opens his non metal arm, and she scoots over to him. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her into his chest, and holds her as she cries. Anger grows within him as she cries her eyes out. He’s going to kill him. 

 “I’m...I’m sorry Bucky. I just feel...so stupid! How could I have not believed you! You were just trying to tell me the truth...and I didn’t listen! I said you were a liar!” She wails, and Bucky rubs her back. 

 “No, no. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise.”

“B-B-But I was so horrible to you, a-and condescending. I’m the worst friend ever!” She sniffles. Bucky knows his shirt is definitely drenched with tears by now, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is making sure Y/N is happy. 

 “Y/N. It’s okay. Honestly. You were in love, and that’s totally understandable. I wouldn’t have believed me either.” She looks as if she doesn’t fully believe what he’s saying, but doesn’t say anything regardless. Instead, they both sit together, and Bucky gently rubs her back and down her arms, letting her cry out all her tears. “Tell you what. How about you stay over here tonight? I think there’s still some of your things here from when you last stayed over. I have a shirt I can give you if there isn’t. We can order some takeout, whatever you want, and we can play some video games...watch a movie, even one of those Disney ones you like so much.” Y/N smiles at that, and Bucky smiles with her. "There’s that smile I love so much. And tomorrow, I’ll go with you to his place, and we can grab your stuff. I can also kick his ass, or just stand around looking intimidating, whatever works.” Y/N lets out a loud laugh at that, making Bucky’s smile grow even wider. Hearing her laugh again is great. 

 “You are great at that, I have to admit.” She nods. Bucky winks. “Thanks Bucky. You’re the best. I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.” Bucky’s heart soars at that. It’s been a long time since someone told him that. 

 “You know doll, I ask myself the same question about you too.” He responds, making her smile. Before either can say anything though, there’s another knock at he door. Both look at each other, confused. “Sam? Is that you?” Bucky calls. They get their answer a few seconds later.  

“Y/N? Are you in there? Let me in please!” Sean’s voice calls. 

“Oh god, what is he doing here?” Y/N groans. Getting progressively angrier and protective, Bucky gets up off the couch, heading towards the door. Y/N gets up too, and Bucky gently moves her behind him for protection. Bucky opens the door, and Sean looks up, spotting Y/N behind Bucky. 

“Oh of course. She ran to the cyborg.” He scoffs. Bucky can smell some alcohol on his breath. His body tenses. 

“Sean, what the fuck?! Don’t speak to him like that! Especially not when you’re the one who I just caught cheating on me.” Y/N orders, but she’s ignored. Sean looks at Bucky’s angry face, and laughs. 

“I should’ve known. I can’t believe you’re getting mad at me for cheating once. Look at the two of you! Maybe I should’ve kept my eyes on you both. Who’s to say you didn’t cheat on me with him, huh?” Bucky’s fists clench, and Sean picks up on this immediately. “Oh, look. What are you going to do to me, Winter Soldier? Are you going to kill me?” Bucky thinks it over for a moment, then laughs. Sean looks confused. 

“I was thinking about it, but actually no, I won’t. I think I’ll let her handle it.” He smirks, standing aside to let Y/N step forward. She does...and immediately kicks Sean right in his balls, causing him to double over and groan in pain. 

“You’re a fucking asshole. Bucky was right about you, and I should’ve listened to him instead of your dumb ass. Because of you, I almost lost one of the best things I've ever had in my life. And you only cheated on me once? Really? Somehow, I doubt that.” She hisses. “Tomorrow, I’m going to come and pick up my stuff, and you can come and get yours from mine. Whether it’ll all be intact or in the garbage, I don’t know. After that, you’re going to stay away from Bucky and I. Do you understand?” When he doesn’t reply fast enough, she kicks him in the leg, causing another groan. “Do you understand?!” She repeats, her voice angrier. 

 “Yes! Yes! I got it!” He says quickly. Y/N stands up straight again. 

“Good. Now go back to whoever you were fucking on the couch, and leave us the fuck alone.” She orders, walking back into the apartment and slamming the door. 

“Hey! That was great!” Bucky grins. “You sure showed him better than I ever could.” 

“You really think so?” She asks, still slightly hyped on adrenaline. Bucky holds his arms out, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Yes! Of course I do!” He encourages, squeezing her even tighter. They stay like that for a while, until the pair suddenly realise just how close they are to each other. They awkwardly spring apart, and both blush. Even though Bucky likes being so close to her, and wishes it could be like that all the time...he also knows how weird it is to do that to his best friend, especially when she just found her boyfriend cheating on her. “Um...wanna order a pizza?” He asks, and Y/N nods.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Later that night, Bucky and Y/N lay side by side on Bucky’s couch, a large cheese pizza between their legs, and an half finished bottle of rosé on the floor beside the couch...mostly for Y/N. The opening song to Beauty and the Beast plays on the television in front of them. “Here’s where she meets Prince Charming, but she won’t discover that it’s him til chapter three....” Y/N sings to herself, and she looks over at Bucky as she does. A small smile plays on her lips, and she starts to giggle. Bucky raises an eyebrow, asking if everything is okay. “It’s uh...it’s dumb. Well, not dumb. I was being dumb.” Y/N speaks quickly, before giggling even more. Bucky looks confused, and she continues. “I probably shouldn’t say this until I’m sober, but I’ve had a rough day and I have to let this out. It’s been eating me up inside for the past few days, and this afternoon.” 

Bucky pauses the movie, and turns to her. “Well that line kind of fits us! I mean....uh. I wasn’t being entirely honest with you at first. When Sean came over, and he said he should have kept his eyes on us, uh...” She takes a breath in an attempt to compose herself. “A few days ago, we had an argument about you...well, me and you.” She clarifies. “He was convinced that I liked you more than I liked him, and when I was on my way over here, I had a think about it, and....I think he’s maybe right.” Bucky almost feels his heart stop at that moment. She...likes him? Does she mean..in that way? Y/N continues. “I asked myself why I kept listening to him instead of you, and I realised...I wasn’t ever in love with him that much. But you...god Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since I met you. I just didn’t think you liked me in that way, so when a guy showed up who said he liked me, I kind of jumped at that and didn’t want to lose it, even when it’s obvious he didn’t love me. I was just so desperate to be loved, I blocked everything else out. And look where it got me.” She scoffs, finishes her glass of wine, and places it down. “I’m sorry Bucky. For everything.” 

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you.” Bucky replies, still in shock she might like him back. 

“I know, I know, but I do. And for what it’s worth, it’s okay if you don’t like me in that way. I just had to let it out. I’d understand if you don’t.” Without even responding, Bucky leans forward, and gently presses a kiss to her lips. 

 “Well...I do. I have for a long time.” He whispers. Y/N’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush.

“Oh...” She trails off. “Well, would you uh...would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date?” She asks. Bucky chuckles softly. 

“I would love to. But first, can I ask you to do something for me?” Y/N nods. “Can you kiss me again?” He asks. Smiling, both lean forward, pressing a kiss to each other’s lips. Even though both have no idea where their relationship will go from here, they’re ready to face it together.

And this time, Bucky doesn’t hate her new boyfriend. At least...not too much.