#also whats the point of marking skins with guns as mature when this is A FUCKING GAME MARKETED AS HAVING GUNS IN IT

[tarrbunny]

Anyway I'm really worried about the direction fortnite is going in with all the metaverse shit Tim Sweeney is pushing

Especially with the new awful rating system for skins

[itslouisan]

Some Revivebur headcanons!:

Btw some of these only exist due to @syndicatedsystem design on my man so...yep

Also shootout to @utahlive because some of these headcannons also came from some of the posts in there and @tntduopolls for answering some of my questions but also ✨ headcannon material✨

(Art by: zirzipper on twitter!! )

• Transmasc!! Either we agree C!Wilbur in general is transmasc or demiboy ot transfem, and that's it. Also bi

• This man totally tried dying his hair back to complete brown only to find out the streaks are always coming back white no matter what he did

• He started smoking on teenager years, considering how I hc Wilbur roughly as a 40 year old max (and C! Quackity as a 36 year old max) he lived through the time where smoking was seen as something "mature" and "cool" and socially even to this day many adults use smoking as a way to cope with pressure but also fit in the society and create connections in the work space, which Wilbur probably understood, picking up the habit of smoking for said reasons

• That being said, he's autistic, end of story, bye. He's also probably REALLY good at masking

• Because of tntduopolls I came to a conclusion: either Wilbur's style fluctuates between classy, rustic, OR JUST RANDOM BS FROM THRIFT STORES HE BOUGHT FOR 1.99 FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

• Wilbur is anemic as fuuuuck, also lacks vitamin D

• His coat has a intense smell of cigarettes, whiskey, dry blood, gun powder and wet dirt, that's because he always had a problem with washing clothing, to the point he felt if he washed it, it didn't fit in his skin anymore and felt wrong, when Tommy took it, it was already completely destroyed and there was nothing he could do to repair, it was as if a mark of Wilbur was in that coat even after death

• This mf will enter in your house/office or whatever and steal anything he finds fitting, no, he won't apologize, yes, he will gaslight you to believing you just lost the item and is crazy blaming him, yes he keeps a collection of said items

• His favorite items to steal? Gold, keys, dice, cards, coins, lighters, rings, necklaces, sketchbooks (these he might give back if you draw him), history books and gems

• Quackity had to create a "code Wilbur" during Las Nevadas from how constantly that bitch forced his way into the office to steal some shit or just sit in Quackity's chair and play the president

• He did have an affair with Quackity before dying, it was secret though and both of them took it to the grave, literally

• He is rotting inside, like, he doesn't have warmth in his body, but it's not JUST that, other things that show that he's dead is the fact Wilbur has to constantly stitch himself together otherwise his limbs may stop responding and fall apart, also he feels phantom pain in the chest sometimes at night if he doesn't go to bed for far too long, but, inside his skeleton, his bones are rotting slowly, his voice is slowly becoming raspier and raspier because his vocal chords are hurting each other, maybe one day he'll end up mute and it doesn't help the fact that he smokes so much, and his teeth are permanently yellow. Not to mention the rotten and fucked up nails

• He actually has a tattoo with the L'Manberg flag on his left wrist

Tw: some of these can include the topic of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, body scars, body dysphoria

• He always HATED that he is an avian, often using unsafe binding methods on his wings, the result? He can't fly anymore, and due to death, his wings are rotting, falling apart, you can even see some of the bones in it already, birds also tend to pluck out feathers when stressed, so just like Phil, he took away multiple of his feathers from the wings, arms, armpits, neck and chest. He also clipped his wings.

• Wilbur DID self-harm when he came back to life, not because of depression this time though since in Pogtopia he used to sh from mental illness, in here, he feels ALIVE when he cuts himself, it's a reminder that he isn't just a husk, an empty cold corpse, that he feels pain again, that he isn't going to wake up in that train station again.

• In his limbo he did think of jumping in the train line a couple of times, but because the train never came he'd just be suffering in the bottom without a way to go back up

• Wilbur unsafe binding also extended to his chest, in which resulted to permanent scars in his chest and ribs, as well as breathing problems, all due to the fact he didn't want to ask for help of others for his gender but didn't want to live not feeling manly enough

• Wilbur has a massive issue with bed rotting sometimes spending half a day only in bed, and that extends to his apartment, dirty and messy and his own appearance

• In pogtopia, knowing that he'd die, every night he'd wrote song lyrics to burn them in candle light, letters saying what he wished he had the courage to say to people he cared about in person, and burnt himself with cigarettes only to feel alive (yes, yes it is a reference to Noel's lament, I'm sorry Wilbur is so Noel codded--)

• Sometimes by walking near places with water he sees the ghost of sally....he hates water now

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.3

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

A/N: Third chapter is here! Again, thank you to all those who are supporting the story. Once again, this is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“Insane madness of the living can be more, more terrible than the bloody hunger of the undead...”

― Silvia Liam

The rules of hunting down prey are simple. First, you observe to take note of their weakness, then you stalk...waiting for the right opportunity to take your shot. Hunting is more often about a game of time than aim sometimes. You jump too soon and you risk scaring your target to a successful escape, or you do it too late that you let them fully slip through your grasp. Hunting... has always been about perfect timing.

"You already know the rules of the game, right boy?"

The frail form of a seven year old child cowered against the foot of a dead tree, eyes shaking as it regarded the man leering at him. The sky was a deep dark velvet above them, and the only source of light came from the full moon that dipped in and out between the passing clouds. A bell dingled from the tight chain strapped around his left ankle when he moved, the sound causing the smile on the man's face twist into a wicked grin.

The hum of a gun being cocked sent the boy to give a choked sob. He shakily tried to stand up from his spot and pressed his palm against the rough bark of the tree to support himself, his wide eyes set on the looming form that has taken a step closer to where he stood.

"It's the first sturgeon moon tonight, so we are going to change the rules a little bit, okay?" Those words only made the child shake harder, the thin shirt he had now clinging to him like second skin due to the cold sweats gripping him.

"You run. And if I catch you, you die," the man cooed as he craned his face a bit to the side, causing the light from the moon to illuminate his features briefly. He looked handsome, inhuman, like he was one of the fallen souls exiled to earth at the beginning of times.

The man moved the arm holding his hunting gun and used it to lift the chin of the boy still cowering in front of him. He smiled—a smile so beautiful and dangerous it can make angels weep.

"But if you die, then your brothers will be the one running in this forest to take your place. So...make sure I don't catch you, hmm?"

Tears finally streamed down the bruised cheeks of the child as he realized what he was up to tonight. Eyes wide with fear, he pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started making a run for it.

He could still hear his words even as he dove deep into the woods, the bell on his feet masking his thundering footsteps.

"Seven bullets! You have one minute to hide, son~!"

Gunshots pierced the night air like a wailing scream.

------

Bang!

Jeno lowered his hunting rifle and let go of his breath slowly. Despite the shadows cast by the towering trees surrounding him, his eyes could still clearly see the slight flailing of the fawn he just shot before it went completely still. Above him, a flock of crows looked down on the fallen prey with their beady eyes, as if gauging the best time to dive for their feast.

He slowly picked himself up from his hiding spot, a wide oak tree with overarching branches that hid him from sight. He's been crouched there for a good half hour or so, just waiting for the fawn to finally circle the area. He's been observing it for the past week or so, taking note of its routes, and today he decided to make the kill.

Unlike other hunters, Jeno prefers the thrill that comes with stalking his prey over simply making a successful game. For him, the fun of hunting is in the process and not in its ending—a kill , after all, means nothing if you didn't work hard for it.

He looked down on the small fawn now as it lay lifeless on the mossy forest ground with its glassy eyes still open. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his hand over it to feel its heartbeat just to check if he killed it properly.

It was so beautiful and graceful just prancing in the forest a few days ago….it would be a shame if it suffers now.

"Hey, you got it?" A voice from the edge of the clearing made him look around. Haechan emerged from between the trees, his own hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Yup. What did you get?"

The other boy lifted a brown sack and gave it a light shake.

"Got three rabbits. I'm too lazy to skin them here so I'll just ask Taeyong-hyung to do it. Want to go back now?"

Jeno turned to look back at the fawn in front of him briefly before finally shaking his head. He didn't really want to go back to the mansion yet, so he decided to just throw an excuse to the other for now.

"You go ahead. I'll just skin it right here," he said casually over his shoulder at his brother. Haechan, too cold and too bored to stay another minute in the humid woods, gave a wave of his hand before turning back. Unlike Jeno, he prefers the comforts and luxuries of the manor over anything else.

"I'll go ahead then. Try to get back before nightfall, the forest can be a dangerous place~" he said in a sing-song voice, knowing full well it was a useless warning he just gave.

Jeno simply ignored him and silently pulled his skinning knife from his belt so he could get to work. Nights in the forest have never scared him, he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything, it is the creatures there who should be terrified of him.

------

You glanced over at Jisung and Chenle who were currently immersed in their readings over the page you’ve been scanning. The sun is about to set in just a few minutes and you have the last session of the day scheduled for the pair before you could pack up and go home. Your lips slightly quirked into a smile as you watched Jisung lean over slightly into the other to silently ask about something, Chenle looking up from his pages to roll his eyes before patiently answering. The two have such different personalities from each other, which adorably and ironically, makes them work so well together.

If you're going to be honest with yourself now, you'd say it is your time with the two youngest that you enjoy the most as Rosewood's tutor. Chenle and Jisung were withdrawn and shy at first, but the pair slowly started warming up to you as time went by. Maybe it's because they are younger, but you prefer the innocent air around them every time you would have your lessons. Chenle is the chattier and the more confident of the two, but with his help, even the shy Jisung also started lightly joking around with you on his best days.

That's not to say that you hate your time with the rest of the brothers. You've only ever had one session with Mark—which went so well as expected from the eldest—while the rest have always been polite and casual. There isn’t really anything about your job and connection with any of the boys that should put you on edge and yet... you have to admit that there are still those rare moments when you just feel as if something is out of place. You couldn't really place your finger on it, nor have you blatantly caught anything suspicious, but sometimes you just feel odd whenever you are around any of the four middle children. It’s something similar to being watched...like there is an imaginary pair of eyes always pinned to the back of your head, or the ghost feeling of hands hovering around your throat.

Your eyes flickered now to the grand clock on the far side of the room which finally struck five. Closing your own book which you have been scouring over, you called out towards the two who quickly looked up from their work.

"Alright, time's up. Have you answered the first two questions at least?" You asked with a smile. Chenle groaned and pointed at Jisung accusingly.

"I only got three questions because he kept disturbing me, noona."

Jisung frowned and you had to keep your laugh back with how offended he looked.

"Hey, I wasn't disturbing you. I was just asking questions."

"Okay, okay. Don't fight now. Do you want an extension for the chapter quiz? We do have our next lesson the day after tomorrow."

Their faces simultaneously lit up.

"Can we do that?" Chenle asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to leave you the assignment of reading another chapter and finishing the questionnaire for that as well. That'll be your homework, okay?" You tried your best to put on your best impression of a stern look, which only made the two giggle.

"Okay, noona."

"You promise you'll do it?"

Jisung put up his right hand and placed his left one over his heart.

"We promise."

That made you chuckle. "Well then, that will be all for today. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay? I'll have lessons with your brothers but just come to me if you have any questions." You gathered the rest of the papers that you have sprawled on the desk you were using before waving the two goodbye.

You were in the middle of trying to fit in a rather stubborn pile of files on your bag that you didn't really notice the tall figure that entered from the front door. When you finally looked up, it was already too late for you to stop crashing straight first into someone's chest, if not for the strong hands that held you steady. You felt an arm settle on your waist, and another on your back as you almost toppled when you hastily stepped back.

"Oh! I am so sorr—" you looked up with wide eyes to see Jeno looking down on you. Your words died in your throat when your eyes caught the red stain on his neck and you gasped.

"Jeno, what happened?!" Your voice raised in panic as you stared wide eyed at the blood running down the side of his neck. He gave you a slight look of confusion before raising a hand to touch the area you've been staring at.

"Ah… this…"

You didn't wait for him to finish. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and turned on your heels to drag him to the opposite direction. You didn't look back to see his surprised expression, and before he could even say anything, you had already pushed him into one of the expansive bathrooms down the nearest hallway.

"Sit there."

You pushed him urgently on the closed toilet seat before you proceeded to rummage on the hidden compartment behind the mirror that Taeyong showed you before. You quickly grabbed the box of first aid kit there and hastily opened an antiseptic wipe.

"Uhm...noona…"

You didn't pay him any attention, too focused on what you needed to do. You quickly kneeled in front of him so that you were more eye-level with each other before finally pressing the damp wipe against his injury.

"Shh. This might sting a little. We have to see how deep your wound is and stop the bleeding," you said, a small frown creasing your brows as your fingers gently dabbed at his skin. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice the light in his eyes shift as he looked at you closely. 

His gaze dropped to your slightly parted lips, then at the look of concentration on your features.

Are you...worried about him?

Your frown deepened as you finally managed to wipe most of the blood away from his skin. The antiseptic sheet you were using has already turned dark red from the liquid, but still you haven't—

"It's not my blood," Jeno said plainly, his voice suddenly sounding too close to you. You looked up to him in confusion, and for the first time you realized how close the two of you were. His gaze didn't waver from your face, pinning you into the spot where you are kneeling in front of him.

"Not your…"

"I was hunting. I was skinning the game I caught but my hand slipped and I hit a major vein. This is deer blood."

If your face wasn't burning after realizing how close the two of you were at the moment, it is definitely on fire now. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again in embarrassment. Jeno continued staring at you and you watched as his lips ever so slightly curled into a smirk.

That made you suddenly stand up from your crouch. He calmly followed you with his gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were injured so I panicked," you stuttered as your eyes fell on the bloody wipe that is still on your hands. You quickly ducked to throw it away just so you could avoid his gaze.

Jeno followed your every move closely before slightly leaning his head to the side. He seems to be mulling over something, face now devoid of any telling emotions.

"Were you concerned about me?" He asked, tone curious. You glanced at him in surprise, stunned that he would ask such a question. It was bad enough that you stumbled over your words when you finally managed a reply.

"Of course I was concerned. Anyone would be."

Jeno slowly stood up from where he sat and for the first time, you realized just how much he towered over you. It didn't help that the two of you were in a much smaller space than usual which sent a wave of claustrophobia to wash you over briefly. You involuntarily took a step back, eyes only high enough to meet the base of his neck.

"Why though?" He asked again, and you could genuinely hear the curiosity in his tone. You frowned. He was asking...as if he isn't used to such a level of care. As if things like this are so foreign to him.

"Because you are my student. And I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

For a moment, Jeno didn't say anything else. He simply looked at you while you tried so hard not to flinch under his heavy gaze.

Then, as if a switch had been turned, he took a step to the side to free some space between the two of you. Your eyes shot to his face when he did that, and you were met by his boyish smile that crinkled his eyes into half moons.

That made you blink. You see it on him whenever he is with the rest of his brothers, but it was the first time he ever smiled that way to you.

"Thank you, noona. I appreciate it."

It was as if a blockage in your throat dissolved all of a sudden. You smiled back, a sense of relief overtaking you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I panicked, too."

"It's cute. Nobody has ever…" he trailed off before shrugging. "I guess, it's because we're all men here. So none of us are used to that kind of care."

You nodded slowly at that. It really must be hard...being in this kind of household. Now that you think about it, the boys are technically orphans.

"Anyway, I have to go. I need to get back before dark. I'm not really a big fan of night drives," you said as you picked up the bag you had haphazardly thrown into the sink in your panic earlier. Jeno simply watched you silently from where he stood.

"Make sure to be careful next time alright? Don't give anyone a heart attack again," you smiled before finally excusing yourself out. He smiled back and gave a nod of goodbye as you closed the door.

Jeno turned to the mirror in front of him and slowly touched the part of his neck where your fingers grazed earlier. It was cold now from the antiseptic you had rubbed, but he could still remember how good the warmth of your touch felt against his skin when you were trying to wash the blood away. He curled his fingers slightly over the area now, leaving half moon marks as his nails dug there.

Oh what he would do to have you touch him again.

-------

"Pretty neat, huh?" You grinned at Jaehyun as he parked the car in front of the manor. You watched as your boyfriend's eyes moved over the impressive facade of the structure in front of him, knowing full well that his architect training is kicking in.

"Not bad. Victorian-era, probably. The stones look old but the place looks pretty well-kept…"

You grinned to yourself now as you leaned back on your seat. Of course you have absolutely no reason to be proud of something you don't own, but you can't help but boast a little at your boyfriend. It is your workplace after all.

Jaehyun turned to his seat now to give you a slightly guilty smile. He sighed before reaching out for your hand.

"Are you sure you will be okay though? I'm sorry about borrowing your car all of a sudden, the timing is just so bad."

You gave his hand a squeeze before patting it with your other. He was supposed to go on a three day business trip away from the city when his car, all of a sudden, just wouldn't start this morning. He wouldn't make it if he waits for the shop to fix it so the both of you decided to just have him use yours for now. At least he has enough time to drive you to work, which is why the two of you now are parked outside the manor, 10 minutes before your first lesson has to start.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure to pick up your car later. I'll have the taxi drive me there."

Jaehyun glanced back at the mansion briefly.

"Are you sure you can get a taxi here though? This is pretty far off the main road…"

Well...to be honest, you weren't even really sure about that yourself but he didn't have to worry about it right now. You nodded and reached over for your bag with a smile.

"Yes. Or I'll just ask Taeyong for help if I can't get one. I'm pretty sure they have some taxi companies in contact."

Jaehyun still didn't look convinced but gave you a small nod nevertheless. His eyes were back to studying the house again which made you chuckle.

"Jae, I'll be fine. You have to go now or you'll be late to your conference. Thanks for driving me here," picking up the last of your things, you leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheeks. He responded by pulling you over for a slightly longer kiss when you tried to move away.

"Yah, Jung Jaehyun. We'll both be late if you don't stop," you whispered softly with an amused tone. He laughed before finally letting you pull back.

"Just getting my fill of it since I won't see you in three days. Call me once you get home later, okay?"

"Mmn. Take care, too. Go get that deal closed," you gave him a wink before finally opening the passenger seat. You watched as he finally pulled away from the driveway and waited until he disappeared again on the long winding road before turning towards the manor again. You were almost at the front steps when the doors finally opened, spilling Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin out of them. You frowned slightly as you took notice of the canvases they were carrying as you approached the group.

"Hey...are you going somewhere? Class is about to start." You asked curiously, eyes landing finally on the small leather bag that Renjun was carrying. It seems to be full of art supplies.

"We're doing a free art class today, right noona?" The eldest of the trio asked. You nodded, still a bit confused.

"Renjun suggested we do it in the garden since the weather is nice today," Jaemin finally said. "We think it'll be a nice change from the stuffy rooms inside," he slightly jerked his head back at the wide windows of the manor which are currently shut back with thick curtains. You glanced at them briefly too before nodding slowly in understanding.

"Oh… I mean… It's not a bad idea. We can have the first session outside while the sun is still bearable, I guess."

That made Jaemin, and most especially Renjun smile. The boy can be withdrawn most of the time, but you did notice that he looks happiest whenever you do creative classes.

"Thank you, noona."

"No problem. I'll just put my bag inside and then I'll follow you. Why don't you set up your things first?"

You've taken a couple of steps towards the front door already when Haechan suddenly spoke up.

"Who was with you, noona?"

That froze you on your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face the trio again. They saw Jaehyun drive off?

"Oh, that was my boyfriend. He dropped me off today," you said casually with a smile. Haechan leaned his head a little bit to the side in curiosity.

"But he took your car…"

"Yes, he did. His broke down so he had to borrow mine. He's leaving for a three-day trip so—" you stopped all of a sudden, realizing that you're explaining things too much. There's nothing wrong about what you said but there was still a part of you that made you feel a little...exposed. Jaemin, Haechan, and Renjun, fortunately, didn't seem to notice and continued to politely look at you.

"Anyway, I'll just grab a cab to go home," you continued with a smile. "There are some who stop by here, right?"

"Yes. Or we can just ask Taeyong-hyung to drive you. He is the only one who has a license among us," Jaemin offered with a casual shrug.

"Ah, maybe I'll have to bother him this one time if I can't get a cab," you said with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I do have to bring my things inside. I'll see you."

You have already reached the top of the steps before the double doors when you finally realized something. Quickly you turned to the three boys who were just about to disappear to the side of the house leading to the manicured gardens.

"Wait, where's Jeno?"

It was Jaemin who answered.

"Oh yeah. He can't come. He is on bed rest."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

Haechan snickered which caused Renjun to shoot him a reprimanding look.

"He got into a hunting accident," the boy explained as he barely tried to keep his lips from twitching with amusement. "He was foolish enough to get stabbed in the chest by a stag."

-----

You gave the oak wood door a few light taps before drawing your hand back to yourself. You still weren't sure if this is a good idea, and yet here you are standing outside Jeno's room, the expansive hallway making you feel too small and out of place. This is the first time you've been in this part of the mansion since you only ever roamed the lower floors for your classes, and you couldn't help but feel a little strange at the heaviness of the air clinging around you now.

Maybe it's because it is where the private quarters of the boys are, but the corridor was only slightly illuminated by dimmed lighting from the lamps on the walls. Everything was silent, and for a moment you wondered if you got the wrong door that Taeyong gave directions to when you told him you wanted to check on Jeno. You have already taken a step back and was about to turn away when you heard some rustling from inside the room. It was followed by a voice muffled by the thick wood separating you from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

You froze on your spot for a few seconds before finally managing to shake yourself to open the door before you slowly. Peering around it, the first thing you noticed was how big the room was—it looked more like a smaller section of a house than a private quarters. It was dark, but a quick look at it told you that it was mostly bare if you don't count the essentials, which is a simple desk by the side, a long couch, and, in the middle, a four poster bed.

Your eyes landed on Jeno who was looking at you with equal mild surprise. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, the light from the laptop on his lap illuminating his face. You noticed that he didn't have a shirt on, but most of his skin from the right shoulder down to his chest was covered by bandages.

"Hi," you smiled, suddenly feeling conscious now as you stepped into his room.

"Um. Hi. What are you…"

"I heard that you were injured so I just dropped by to check on you," you quickly answered to diffuse any awkwardness that is in danger of settling between the two of you. Jeno blinked, as if processing what you just said.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't realize that I might be disturbing you. I can also just go back another time and—"

"No," He said all of a sudden before you could excuse yourself. Quickly, he closed his laptop and put it away on his side. "You can stay for a bit."

"Oh...great. I uh…" your eyes roamed around his room once again, hoping to find a chair that is closer to his bed. There was none. You figured the couch was the only place you could go to so you started walking towards it, Jeno's eyes on you.

"You can sit here," he suddenly said and you looked up to see him pointing at the foot of his bed. That made you stop before glancing again at the couch at the farther side of his room, something which he immediately noticed.

"It's too far away. It'll be awkward for us to talk if you sit there,” he said, as if he read your mind. 

That...makes sense. With a slight nod, you closed the distance between you and the bed instead and chose to sit by its far end.

Jeno was back to watching you as you settled down, his expression curious. You softly cleared your throat.

"How are you feeling?"

He glanced down his chest briefly. "Oh, I'm fine. It didn't hurt as much during the weekend, but I was still told to stay in bed. I can't really move that much yet."

"What happened anyway?"

He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly and looked away.

"I was trying to hunt a deer. I didn't know its mate was just around the area when I approached it so...yeah."

You winced as your eyes fell on his bandaged chest. You know next to nothing about hunting, but you know enough that an angry stag doesn't spell good news for anyone. Things could have been more serious for him.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't be in the hospital though?"

"Yes. We have a private doctor anyway. I just need to make sure I don't move too much to keep my wound from opening. And I also hate hospitals so I prefer to stay here…"

"You have to be more careful next time, okay Jeno? The forest is such a dangerous place…" you sighed before shifting your attention towards the window at the far wall of his room. He only had his curtains partially open but you could still see a sliver of the woods from where you sat.

Something about what you said shifted something in him. You missed it entirely thanks to the shadows from the room's dim lighting that masked his features, but it was there, hiding in plain sight.

"You take care of us so well."

You turned to him again as you heard him whisper something.

"What?"

Jeno simply smiled. He leaned back against the headboard, as if mulling over something.

"Since noona is worried about me, can you help me change my bandages?"

You blinked. That wasn't something you expected him to ask at all. Before, you figured Jeno to be one of the more withdrawn among the brothers, always with this air of intimidation about him, but lately, he has been throwing you off with these kinds of moments. He isn't flirty like Jaemin or sly and playful like Haechan, but he’s just so...direct. Almost pushy, sometimes. 

"I uhm… I don't know. I wouldn't know how to do it, maybe I can call someone and—"

You watched as he already started to undo the bandages on his torso, your eyes growing wide as he started to expose more skin.

"Jeno wait, I think we should call Taeyong for thi—oh my god."

Your words were cut off when he finally let the last of the bandages fall to reveal the cut on his torso. It started from his right chest, a few inches above the collarbone, and ran sideways to the middle where it cut off. Stitches held the skin together, and you could see the darkening sides of the flesh where it broke.

Yet it wasn't only that which caught your attention. Despite the dimness of the room, you could see other marks in his body, old scars that adorned his pale skin here and there. They varied in length and thickness, and you couldn't figure out what might have caused them. Were they from hunting accidents too…?

You immediately turned to look away. You didn't want to seem rude for staring. Jeno, however, seemed unbothered, if not mildly amused. Watching you through hooded eyes, he let you squirm for a little bit first before finally calling for your attention once more.

"Noona."

"Yes?"

"Help me, please?"

The tone he used on you finally made you turn with a slight wince, which only made him chuckle.

"You're not used to seeing injuries?"

"I'm not fond of them. I don't think anyone is."

“So let's get this over with then. I just need you to hold one side of the bandage for me while I wrap it again. It's hard when I do it alone."

You were about to open your mouth to say something again but chose to purse your lips after in the end. With a soft sigh, you finally picked yourself up from your spot by the foot of the bed to move closer to him. Jeno had already uncapped what looked to be a bottle of antiseptic at this point and had started to dab gently at his cut. You tried to watch without wincing too much as he tried to do the job, but it was probably too painful for him to move too much because he was missing a lot of it.

"Hey, just give me that. I'll do it," you asked as you gently took the cotton pad from him. Jeno wordlessly let you take it, eyes closely watching you as you ducked a little to clean his wound. You tried your best to keep your eyes on target, not allowing them to move anywhere else…

"It looks so bad… I'm surprised you can still move…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you frowned over it. You completely missed the way the corners of Jeno's lips ever so slightly tilted as your fingers brushed against his skin.

"Your fiance must have never gotten injured before, noona."

Your hand froze at what he said. Slowly, you looked up at him, only to see him smile at you.

"How did you…"

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung told us. He just reminded us to be nice to you or else you might quit. He said you are saving up for your wedding."

You didn't say anything at first after his explanation. There's nothing wrong about it, and it seems very in-character for Taeyong to say that since he seems to be the most worried about the possibility of you quitting. Still, you couldn't help the odd feeling that tugged at your chest, one you tried to shove back as you turned your attention again to what you were doing just so you could escape Jeno's gaze.

"Well… yes. I am saving up for it. But I also enjoy my time here… so far…"

Jeno smiled to himself as he looked down on you, eyes watching your every move.

"We'll behave too, we promise," he said softly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Until then, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind us borrowing you from him."  

----

"Jisung! Chenle! Don't run too far into the forest, okay?" Taeyong called out to the two boys who have already turned on their tails and have started running towards the woods. You watched as the two laughed and pushed at each other playfully before finally disappearing into the forest edge.

Taeyong sighed beside you and let the hands he had on his hips fall to his sides. You turned to him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for suddenly asking you to watch over them. I totally forgot that I had to drive the rest to their dentist appointment today," he said with a scratch of his head. You simply shook a hand at him to wave him off.

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any other classes today anyway so I'll just wait here for them. But... uh... are you sure that it is safe for them to play there?"

"Yes. As long as they stay in the right zones. There are parts there where some wild animals might roam around this season but Jisung and Chenle already know that, don't worry. It won't be the first time they'll be going there too. They've been playing there since they were kids."

You nodded slowly, still a little bit unsure as your gaze floated over to the woods once more. If it were you, you wouldn't let them go near it, especially after what happened to Jeno.

"I'll have to go then. I promise I'll be back by 5. Then I can drive you back to town after."

You turned to look at Taeyong once more and gave him a grateful smile. You usually would have declined the offer under normal circumstances, but you honestly think it will be easier and safer for you to just have him take you back later.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

The other nodded before giving you one last smile. Turning around, you watched him go to the car where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin were already waiting. Jeno was still in bed rest, so he is skipping the impromptu trip this time.

You only turned back to look at the woods ahead when you finally saw the black sedan disappear down the road. The forest looked foreboding in front of you, one look at it and you know there is no way you'll venture there in your own free will. With a sigh, you picked up the book you've brought with you and let yourself take a seat by the grass as you wait for Jisung and Chenle to return.

A sudden sharp caw that tore the air made you look up in surprise from the current chapter you were reading. You didn't have any idea how much time had already passed after you lost yourself in your book, but you were surprised to see that the sky had gone red over the horizon as a flock of crows soared from the depths of the forest. You watched as they circled just above the trees before finally disappearing far into the sky. That was when you realized it; it's been a while since Jisung and Chenle left.

With panic slowly creeping into your chest, you glanced at your watch then back at the mansion behind you. Taeyong didn't say anything about a curfew for the two kids, but your own sense told you that the pair should be back before night falls. Your gut told you that you should start looking for them, but the problem is that there is still more than half an hour left before Taeyong said they will return and the only other person left in the manor was Jeno—who can't even get out of bed. 

You swallowed. Before you could make any decision, however, a bone-chilling sound floated into the air that made your blood turn cold. It was faint at first, making you wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but then it called out again, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

It was Chenle. Screaming.

You broke into a run without a second thought.

It took you everything you have not to topple over the uneven forest floor as you wove through the trees. You have no idea where you were going, your mind and vision reeling as you tried to follow the voice. Your skirt have caught countless times on shrubberies and wayward tree barks as you tore through the woods but you kept going, not minding the tears on the fabric and the skin of your legs.

"Chenle! Jisung! Where are you!"

You called out desperately when the cries suddenly stopped. You were only barely aware of your heart thundering in your chest and your lungs burning from overexertion.

No. No. Don't stop screaming. I can't find you if you do.

"Chenle! Jisung!" You called out again desperately as you stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a small patch of land that dropped off to a ravine. The trees beyond were denser than the ones at the edge of the forest and the already fading light of the day wasn't helping the thick canopies above you that rained shadows on where you stood. You looked around and swallowed thickly. Something inside of you told you to turn around and run again but you stayed frozen on your spot, waiting for any sound from the kids.

It took you a few more heartbeats to pick up something again. Jisung's voice sounded far off to your right, maybe about 15 meters from where you currently are.

"Noona! Help! Chenle fell down!"

Your adrenaline jumped into action again.

"Jisung?! Jisung! Wait—Is Chenle with you?” A soft voice called out and you breathed in as you recognized the latter's tone. “I'm coming! Don't stop calling for me, okay, so I can find you!"

You were about to turn away from the edge of the steep ravine you were still standing on when you felt your back hit something hard. Before you could even turn around to look at it, however, a blunt force hitting the middle of your shoulder blades sent you toppling forward, straight into the sharp fall beyond.

You screamed, before everything went quiet as your head hit the bedrock below.

---

A.N. GOD THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO GLAD IT IS FINALLY DONE.

Taglist:  @negincho,  @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey​, @aj--7, @pukupukupawpau​, @tomiesgirlfren​, @vsszn

CHAPTER 4

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[bowlegsandbiceps]

Suptober Day 4: Secret

Secret Agent Man

Mature / Secret Agent!Cas/Domestic Dean / Destiel / 2,726 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest as he rolled to a stop on a nondescript residential street and killed the headlights. The entire mission was FUBAR, was from the start in all honesty but he never dreamed it would end up like this. He rubbed a hand over his mouth hard, glancing up at the small sliver of moon in the sky, and ran the call through his head again.

“Speak”

“C-C-Cas?” He remembered how every muscle had seized at the sound of Dean’s voice, tremulous and staticky on the other end of the line. He’d looked down at his phone, confirming that, no, he hadn’t accidentally brought his personal phone on a job. Dean was on the opposite end of a burner with only one contact and that could only mean one thing.

“Hello, darling.”

“Crowley.” Castiel had done his level best to keep his voice even and calm, no hint of the rage and turmoil roiling in his gut.

“Let’s not dally. You have something of mine. I have something of yours.”

“You’re suggesting a trade.”

“An even trade.” Crowley had emphasized. “I get the weapon, the money, a plane on the tarmac and a twenty-four-hour head start.”

“Is that all?” Castiel had been sarcastic, a knee-jerk response from years of having nothing to lose, and regretted it instantly.

“Buddy boy that’s generous considering what I could do to your young lad here. He’s a pretty one, Angel. Has a lot of fight in him too.” Castiel heard Crowley sniff and he hoped that Dean had broken his fucking nose. “One hour, Angel. Or the body you’ll be collecting will be his.”

Castiel lowered his head, hands still gripping the steering wheel tight as moments with Dean flashed through his mind. The night they met, him working security at an event Dean was catering and Dean permitting him to stop whatever threats emerged as long as Castiel stayed out of his way and didn’t touch his knives. Dean’s husky baritone as he sang “Secret Agent Man” at him from several yards away when they ran into each other at a festival a few days later, Dean tipsy enough to force Castiel to take his number and Castiel smitten enough to accept it, against his better judgment. The night Dean cooked for him and Castiel thanked him by carrying him off into the bedroom like they were in some romance novel, Dean’s ankles locked at Castiel’s lower back as he kissed the life out of him.

Castiel shook his head, cursed under his breath. He knew better than to form personal connections, but Dean with his mega-watt smile and terrible jokes had wormed his way past all Castiel’s defenses one home-cooked meal at a time until Castiel got sloppy. Now Dean would pay the price for Castiel’s foolishness, a burden Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to bear if he were to fail tonight. 

So he forced himself to harden, feeling his insides solidify to stone and when he climbed out of the car he wasn’t Castiel, certainly wasn’t the man Dean called Cas in the tender moments they shared wrapped up in Dean’s sheets. He was the Angel of Death and he would neutralize this threat. 

Silent as the grave, Castiel made his way up the street, staying in the shadows. When he reached Dean’s driveway he saw the Impala through the open garage door and slipped in next to it. The door was unlocked, a habit Dean had to break goddammit and Castiel slipped inside. He paused in the dark laundry room, startled for a moment to see Dean standing at the stove in his underwear, humming a Metallica song as he sautéed something in a pan. Dean seemed to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to look Castiel could see the wound at his temple, blood tacky down the side of his face. 

Castiel immediately lifted his finger to his lips but Dean just blinked at him and looked back down into the pan.

“Is that you, Angel?” Crowley’s voice crooned from somewhere past the doorway and Dean’s shoulders tensed, his spatula pausing. “Don’t burn the veggies, Dean. You don’t want to have to start over again.” Dean immediately lifted the pan and shook it, tossing the chopped peppers, onions and bits of ham with practiced ease. 

Castiel strode forward, not bothering to silence his steps this time and he couldn’t stop himself from touching Dean’s shoulder as he passed though he didn’t look at him. Crowley was sitting at the small kitchen table, dressed sharply in a black suit with a blood-red tie. His nose was crooked and there was blood in his mustache and beard, something that caused Castiel’s lips to quirk in satisfaction though the gun casually pointed at Dean’s back soured his stomach. The table was set for three and Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see that Dean was now transferring the veggies onto a paper towel then began to crack eggs in a shallow bowl.

“You’re just in time for breakfast!” Crowley crooned, gesturing with the gun for Castiel to sit.

Castiel did so silently, taking the seat across from Crowley and directly behind Dean. Crowley adjusted his aim accordingly. 

“So, rough night?” Crowley teased and Castiel merely stared back. 

He could feel Dean moving behind him, his bare feet tapping against the linoleum as he turned to shuffle over to them. Dean, pan in hand and spatula poised stood over Crowley, face blank as he slid the completed omelet onto Crowley’s plate and made to turn to go back to the stove. Crowley’s hand shot out, gripping Dean’s wrist and Dean froze as Castiel snatched up a fork, stretching over the table, and pressed it to Crowley’s jugular. The gun in Crowley’s other hand went snuggly against Dean’s lower back, just above the band of his boxers.

“Easy, Angel. Easy now. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your lover here to lose all feeling below the waist.” Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean’s face and found his eyes closed, face shuttered in forced calm. Castiel slowly lowered the fork and edged back into his seat. “That’s it. Now, Dean, be a dear and bring me the salt.”

“Taste it first,” Dean said over his shoulder and Castiel glared up at him. Dean shrugged his shoulders giving him a come on expression and Castiel was going to absolutely lose it if Dean’s irrational hatred of people seasoning their food before they tasted it was what actually got him killed.

Crowley laughed lowly, giving a tilt of his head as he used his fork to dig into the omelet. Steam billowed out, the scent of cheese and vegetables strong as Crowley forked a piece into his mouth. He rested his hands against the table’s edge as he chewed and gave another tilt of his head.

“You’re right. It’s perfect. Thank you, Dean.” Dean made to walk back to the stove but Crowley’s grip tightened, the gun pressing harder into his lower back. “Manners, lad.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean gritted out and Crowley finally released him, Castiel watching him pass and had to settle himself at the sight of the red mark left by the gun barrel at the base of Dean’s spine.

Crowley grinned at Castiel. “Nice little set up you got here. Stupid. But nice.”

“I don’t have the weapon.”

Crowley lifted a finger. “Ah but you have the location of the weapon. And what protections have gone into keeping nasty men like me from getting to it.”

“I was on the extraction team. You know very well that extraction and security don’t have anything to do with each other once the handoff is made.”

Crowley gave him a tart smile. “I also know very well that they trust you to handle both. Again…” Crowley’s eyes lifted over his shoulder but Castiel kept his gaze on Crowley, feeling Dean move around him to slide an omelet onto his plate. “Stupid.” The whisper of Dean’s fingers on his shoulder made every muscle in his body tense and Dean immediately pulled away.

“I don’t have the location of the weapon. I only have the drop-off location.”

Crowley pressed his lips together, displeased. “You also have the activation codes.”

Castiel hesitated, listening to the sizzle of eggs in the pan. “I have the self-destruct codes.”

Crowley grinned cheerfully, digging into his omelet. “Good enough for me.” Crowley’s eyes moved to Dean again and Castiel fought the urge to snap his fingers to regain Crowley’s attention. He didn’t have to. Crowley looked at him again, then gestured at his plate. “Eat!”

Castiel dutifully picked up his fork and speared into the omelet, shoving a bite into his mouth that took all the skin off the roof of his mouth. He chewed anyway. Dean was making his way back over, sliding his own omelet onto the final plate before turning to place the pan back on the stove. He hesitated there for a moment.

“Sit down, Dean we don’t want your breakfast getting cold.”

“It’s a little early for me.” Dean’s voice was controlled and even as he spoke to the stove. 

Crowley rolled his eyes and cocked his gun. Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Get your pretty little ass over here and eat your breakfast, Dean Winchester. Or I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend’s kneecap.”

Dean turned abruptly, hurrying to sit in the chair between the two men. He grabbed his fork and immediately sawed off a bite and shoved it in his mouth, chewing diligently. Crowley watched him as he opened his mouth to allow steam to exit, continuing to chew laboriously until he swallowed. Crowley grinned. 

“He really is darling, Castiel.” Crowley’s eyes were roving over his face as Dean kept his eyes on his plate, cutting off another piece to shove into his mouth. “Didn’t give anything away and I put him through the wringer a bit there.” Crowley used the gun to indicate the hit to Dean’s head.

“Looks to me like he put you through it,” Castiel commented as he speared another piece of omelet contemplating it. “Must be humiliating to have your nose broken by a civilian.” Castiel ate it.

“Not nearly as humiliating as stripping him down so I could really appreciate him before he started cooking.”

Castiel stilled. Dean normally slept in his underwear. Castiel had figured that Crowley had gotten him out of bed at this late hour but then he remembered Dean had an event tonight. Castiel glanced at Dean, sucking in a deep breath, and over the smell of breakfast, he caught a whiff of Dean’s body wash, noted his hair was a little darker than normal, just the slightest bit damp. Dean’s eyes were closed, his jaw set as he held his fork in his fist and Castiel saw red.

Swift as a viper Castiel’s hand shot out, the fork sinking into the tendons of Crowley’s wrist, the same one holding the gun, as Castiel’s other hand went over the barrel, stopping the slide when Crowley attempted to pull the trigger. Dean had flung himself backward, chair skidding against the linoleum until he crashed back into the cabinets. One quick jab to the face, groaning through the pain of a fork stabbing into his chest just over his heart, Castiel managed to twist the gun in Crowley’s hand, his fingers limp from the damaged tendons, and without another thought, Castiel put a bullet in his brain and three more in the center of his chest. 

Castiel was breathing hard, adrenaline scalding through his veins as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled back in the chair, brain matter and bits of skull spraying the wall behind him. His heart began to slow. The threat had been neutralized. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Castiel’s head whipped to the side, finding Dean still sitting, wide eyes filling with tears as his hands gripped the side of his chair frozen. Castiel hit his knees immediately, moving to tuck the gun into his belt behind his back before he cupped Dean’s face gingerly. Dean was shaking all over, teeth chattering and Castiel immediately shrugged out of his trench, a motion that sent pain shooting across his chest. He cursed, looking down and finding the fork still stuck in the meat of his pectoral muscle. He ripped it out, angrily tossing it aside before looking back at Dean just in time to see a single tear slip over his lashes and down his cheek. 

Castiel gathered up the coat and threw it around Dean’s semi-naked form, pulling him off the chair and into his arms. Dean went willingly, his arms going around Castiel’s neck as he planted a knee on either side of Cas’ perching in his lap. Castiel ran one large hand up and down Dean’s back, shushing him as he trembled and cried quietly into Castiel’s neck, his other hand delving back into Dean’s hair. Castiel sucked in a deep breath that was all Dean, shampoo and body wash, and the unique scent of his skin. Castiel huffed it out in a sigh, hands going to Dean’s biceps to push him back so he could see his face.

“Dean.” Castiel held his face in his hands and Dean sniffled, shaking hands coming up to clutch at Castiel’s wrists. “Dean, I need you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you?”Dean shook his head, sniffling again. “Did he touch you at all?”

Dean shook his head again, swallowing hard. “N-no. He just watched me shower. The creep.” Dean let out a breath of a chuckle before he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and tears cascaded down his face. Castiel snatched him close and Dean held on for dear life. “C-Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You killed a guy in my kitchen.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said your job was dangerous.” Castiel grumbled, holding him tighter and Dean pressed his face to Castiel’s neck. “Is it weird I wanna know how your omelet was?”

Castiel couldn’t help it, he laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s uninjured temple and Dean gave a watery laugh of his own. 

“It could’ve used some salt.”

“Oh fuck you. Salt. Jesus.”

“Dean I’m-“

“Don’t.” Dean pulled back, reaching up to wipe at his face. “I’ve seen this part of this movie a thousand times. You’re gonna say you’re sorry because we can’t be together it’s too dangerous, blah blah.”

“Actually that’s not what I was going to say.”

Dean’s brow crinkled. “No?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was going to say I’m sorry you probably won’t get your deposit back.” Dean glanced over at the carnage behind the dead body sitting at his kitchen table. Castiel cocked his head to the side. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.” Dean gave a sharp shake of his head as he tore his eyes away from the body and gave a shiver. “Do you need to like… call this in or… You’re hurt!” Dean’s hand immediately went to Castiel’s chest which was bleeding sluggishly. 

“I’m fine. Nothing a bandage and a tetanus shot can’t fix.” Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate that wallpaper, Cas, maybe the landlord will finally get rid of it.”

“No, I mean… when the shock wears off you’ll-“

“Still want to be with you,” Dean insisted arms tightening around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah that guy found me because of you but you also neutralized the threat.” Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips at Dean using his jargon. 

“I let my emotions get the best of me.” Castiel touched Dean’s face gently. “It was a dumb move stabbing him. It’s sheer luck I didn’t get either of us killed.”

Dean turned his head, kissing the heel of Castiel’s hand. “You’re just a lucky guy, Cas.” Dean gave him a big smile, the one that never failed to render Castiel speechless. “You got me after all.”

Castiel huffed a laugh, his head dropping to Dean’s shoulder, and let his arms curl nearly double around him. Sirens could be heard in the distance, likely one of Dean’s neighbors called the cops at the sound of gunshots and Castiel relaxed into Dean’s hold as he began to hum “Secret Agent Man.”

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - i

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; murder, death, violence, blood, guns, burnt bodies, nudity [nonsexual], nightmares, drugs? [sleeping pills], a bunch of boys being in love

➳ word count ; 4.8k

➳ note ; I watched The Old Guard on Netflix [a serious recommend if you haven’t already seen it] and got hit with major inspiration. Nothing better than found-family and immortal soulmates. I put of a lot of time, effort and love into this, so please treat it with delicate hands. And please, please, give me feedback if you like it. Thank you, and enjoy :)

They have done this before, enough times—too many times—to be familiar with the routine. 

The nightmares, all too vivid and yet frustratingly vague, of blood and pain and death. Glimpses of a face they have never seen, memories that do not belong to them. The lingering thoughts of why another, why now, why at all?

They have done this many times, and yet it never gets easier, never makes sense.

⎯⎯⎯

When they submit to the clutches of slumber, it is beneath the glowing moonlight that shines through the broken ceiling of an abandoned church. Overgrown with vines that hold the crumbling walls together and hidden behind bushes and weeds and shadows, this building will be safe, for them. For now. It may not provide much warmth, or much shelter, but it gives them a sense of anonymity that they so desperately depend on. Right now, it hides them from the world. They are nothing but each other’s, so long as they are here.

Usually, sleep brings peace. Long ago did they learn how to banish demons from their dreams, memories of pasts both true and terrible, and so through sleep they find temporary solace from the demands of their long lives. They hold each other in their warm arms, forget about their worries if only for a brief moment. They are but seven men, seven soulmates, seven loves, existing together without burden.

Until tonight.

It is familiar, the weight that descends upon their chests, pushes against their rib cages. An invisible force both squeezing them and pulling them apart, flooding them with vague images, sounds, feelings. In sleep, they hold each other tighter, safer, but they cannot escape the myriad of memories and thoughts that fill their minds.

A pair of eyes, so brown that they are pure, so dark that they are nearly black, blink at them as sweat begins to shine upon their skin. These eyes are young, but they hold wisdom, maturity, that can only come with death. Witnessing it, causing it, experiencing it. These eyes are filled with desperation in this moment, but also a stubborn determination; they know what is coming, and yet they will continue to fight until their dying breath, as they vowed⎯⎯

⎯⎯a uniform, black, stained with dirt and blood, without any identifying marks. No dog-tags, but a tan line around a soft neck where they would normally hang. Trained muscles behind firm fabric, knowledgeable fingers clutching a military assault rifle. Steel-toed boots, scuffs through the polish, dirt in the seams and drops of red in the laces⎯⎯

⎯⎯heart beating through chest, adrenaline spiking, but something’s wrong, this isn’t supposed to happen, how did they know we were coming? Need to get out, need to get to cover, need to save⎯⎯

⎯⎯the enemies found them, caught them, have them, bound and bloodied in a dark cave or dungeon, they can’t tell. Chains rattle against stone where bodies shift for comfort, but no comfort can be found for bleeding wounds, broken bones, bruised skin. Eyes connect, know they’re saying goodbye, can’t speak but wish they could say something, apologise, curse, plead, pray. By the time footsteps stomp their way in, handgun cocked and aimed at their foreheads, they have already accepted that⎯⎯

Gasps echo in the silence as seven bodies jerk awake, trembling and sweating and aching with pains that another is experiencing. Their minds are still clouded, submerged within their dreams, but they know this routine. They know what they have just seen.

Hands scramble beneath their makeshift bedding as they reach for their journals, their pens, and begin to scribble whatever details they can remember ⎯ eyes, blood, pain, death. They’ve all clung to different images, and they desperately remember everything they can before it washes away with their wakeful clarity.

“I saw, um, eyes,” chokes the youngest, his pencil already sketching the eyelashes with careful precision. “Brown, dark. Looked like a girl’s.”

“She had to be military,” says another. “Maybe special forces? No insignia on the uniform and dog-tags were taken off. Black-ops?”

“I saw a glimpse of a scar on her hand. Might help to identify her.”

“There were others, too; a team. I have a feeling she was the leader.”

“It was a rescue operation, but I don’t think they succeeded. The enemies saw them coming. She was confused as to how.”

“Did you see the gun she was shot with? That’s military grade. It was either supplied by somebody on the force, or they were the force.”

“God, I have a headache.” Seokjin rubs his temples, a pain lingering behind his eyes but never ceding. “Never thought after three-hundred years that we’d get another one.”

Arms curl around him, a sigh breathed into his neck. “Me too, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles closer, finds comfort in the warmth of his lover’s broad shoulders. “I feel sorry for her. Now she’s going to have to deal with this too.”

“Hey, what did I say about pessimism?” Namjoon’s pointed look is directed towards the youngest, but the words are for everybody to hear. A reminder. “Our lives may be long, and hard, and difficult to deal with at times. But we have the opportunity to help people, to affect change, and, most importantly,” his eyes soften, “to have each other.”

“Wah, hyung’s going soft on us,” Taehyung grins, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Behind him, Jimin clings around his torso like a koala. “Yeah, those are big words for somebody who so often tells us how insufferable we are,” he agrees.

Sitting up, Yoongi joins the conversation with a voice still deep with sleep. “That’s because you are insufferable. But that doesn’t mean that hyungs love you any less. Eternal life would be extremely dull if we didn’t have you annoying us constantly.”

Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other, eyes glittering with something devious, and something close to love. “You all just bore witness to that,” Jimin says, pointing at Yoongi. “You all heard him say that, so you can’t yell at us for being annoying ever again!”

“Free pass!” Taehyung agrees.

Hoseok, still lounging his head in Yoongi’s lap, rolls his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung said it, but none of us did, so we can, and will, still yell at you.”

The two pout, but question it no further. They could spend centuries arguing over petty things⎯have, regrettably⎯but they’d much rather get along. For now, forever.

“Hyungs,” a small voice whispers into the silent air, drawing attention to where the maknae still hugs into Seokjin’s back. He’s pouting, and they want to coo at him, but his next words break them out of their reverie of adoration. “What about the girl?”

Your ears are ringing when you finally wake, images of your nightmares still clinging to your mind, so vivid, so real. They were filled with pain, and fear, and the bloodied faces of your soldiers as they were shot one after the other. You remember screaming for them, pleading, hoping against hope that they’d listen. But, instead, you had watched them die.

You hope that you didn’t scream aloud, didn’t wake your team. They deserve the rest, even if you couldn’t have it.

Muscles stiff and aching from a restless slumber, you shift in your cot, move to adjust the blanket. But your cot is harder than you’d like, your blanket out of reach. In fact, you can’t move your arms at all.

When your heavy eyelids finally open, you realise why your dreams had felt so real.

The stench of blood and death is so thick in the air that you can taste it, that bitter tang against your tongue bringing bile up to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t just sore, it’s screaming; it’s as though you can feel your muscles re-knitting together after being torn apart. And maybe it’s panic that crushes against your lungs, constricting your airways, or maybe it’s grief.

Because as soon as your eyes land on the dead bodies of your teammates, you can’t breathe.

Your throat is so sore from screaming and crying that the sounds escaping it are torn and scratchy, but you can’t hold them in. Not when you see your friend’s brain splattered over the wall behind her; not when you see your second-in-command holding her hands together, mid-prayer when the shot was fired.

You sob, and yell, and cry out until your throat is raw, and then when you have no voice left, you continue. You may not be dead yet⎯and for what reason, you don’t want to know⎯but you don’t think that you’ll ever truly live after this. How does one move on from their friends, their family, being slaughtered before their very eyes? How does one process the fact that they were left behind?

Through the crushing weight on your chest and the searing pain in your throat, you hear footsteps approaching. The heavy boots do nothing to hide their owner’s steps, impatient and strong, but you can’t find it within yourself to be afraid. The worst thing they can do is torture you some more, maybe even kill you, but you’d welcome death at this stage; you’d welcome reprieve from the sorrow that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a man, unsurprisingly, who walks through the mouth of the dark cave, ugly face covered by a mask pulled up to his eyes. He looks at you, something in his half-hidden expression that you don’t have the energy to place, and then says something in a language that you cannot understand.

Heaving a breath and swallowing blood, you meet his sharp eyes. “I don’t understand you.” Your words scratch their way out, hardly discernible, so you try again. “I won’t tell you anything, so just kill me and get it over with.”

This time he shouts, still angry but this time not at you, though he never tears his gaze off your crumpled figure. Like if he blinks, you may disappear.

Once again, hurried and heavy footsteps make their way into the room, a pair of men joining their comrade. These ones are holding guns. You can’t find it within yourself to flinch.

More foreign words are thrown at you, some that seem like questions, but your mind is too rattled, head too sore, to even try to comprehend what they might want from you. Your shoulders ache from where your arms are secured behind you, and your legs ache from hours⎯maybe days?⎯of disuse. So you sigh, level what you hope is a glare towards the two newcomers, and repeat, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Looks exchanged between them, hesitation, and then, “You should be dead. Why are you not dead?”

In a moment of weighted silence, you try to determine if they’re serious. Because surely they aren’t asking you how you are alive while being held captive by them. But they don’t elaborate, so you’re left with an even greater migraine than before. “Are you fucking serious?”

The expletive makes them simultaneously point their rifles at you, and this time, you do stiffen. You may be feeling slightly suicidal right now, but you also have reflexes.

“I don’t know why I’m alive.” The admission is spat from between your teeth, reluctant and bitter. “Why don’t you ask whoever it was that killed the rest of my team?”

“I killed your team,” one of them says. The first one. Without a gun, obviously having thought there would be no threat in entering this dungeon. “I killed you, too, shot you in the head myself. So tell me again. Why are you alive?”

“Maybe you’re a bad shot,” you reply. “How am I to fucking know why you let me live? Now do me a favour, will you? Either let me go or shoot me for real this time.”

You don’t have time to register the sound of the gunshot before the bullet goes through your forehead.

“Anything?”

A sigh is the only response that Namjoon receives. 

“Alright,” he continues, “what do we know for sure about her?”

“Honestly, hyung?” Jimin looks up from the laptop he’s perched at. “I don’t think we even truly know if it’s a woman. We saw her⎯their⎯eyes, but not much else. Like, sure, we think it’s a woman, we’re pretty sure of it, but nothing’s certain. The visions were really vague this time around.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, never looking up from the screen of his own computer. “I’ve been searching the military databases, but it’s hard to pinpoint covert operations that don’t technically exist. We didn’t get a dog tag number, or an insignia, or even an idea of which country’s military she’s in. I hate to say it, but we might just need to wait until tonight. Get some more pieces of the puzzle.”

This is what Namjoon was afraid of, not that he was expecting anything else. His boys are good, but even they can’t work miracles.

“I feel sorry for her,” Jeongguk hums, cheek pressed into the couch cushion where he’s taken a rest from research. Not that he ever really started; that was always his hyungs’ strong points. “I mean, she’s all alone right now, probably really confused, really scared. I know I was before you all found me.”

That sentence strains their hearts, makes them pause. Jeongguk had been alone for nearly a decade before they had finally found him, lonely and of unsound mind, unaware of the curse he’d been unwillingly given. They’d spent years helping him heal, helping him accept, and now they can proudly say that he is stable and content. Happy, even, sometimes.

You, however. You are in the exact same place that he was. Maybe worse, they don’t know.

Taking slow steps towards the couch, Hoseok gently lifts Jeongguk’s legs to place them on his lap when he sits. He feels the strong calf muscles beneath his fingers as he strokes the uncovered skin, bare only for their eyes, until the young one has relaxed his worried muscles.

“I know it’s hard, Jeongguk-ie,” Hoseok says, voice just above a whisper, soft and yet sure. “I know that we all want to find her as soon as possible, but we can’t just yet. Hopefully the next dream will give us more, but until then, we just have to stay focused. Let’s not get lost in that mental spiral, okay?”

Jeongguk hums, not fully sated with the answer but understanding nonetheless. “M’kay, hyung.”

The comfortable silence in the room following their conversation doesn’t even stretch five minutes before a figure slams into the building, flourishing his arms and announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

“We’re back, bitches!”

Seokjin follows behind Taehyung, closing the church doors after the younger had slammed them open and looking exhausted. “Taehyung chatted with the cashier for half an hour before he even asked for help. We could have been back hours ago.”

“Hey.” Taehyung directs a look at the oldest. “Her outfit coordination was unlike anything I’ve seen this century. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s as old as Hoseok-ie hyung!”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Hoseok asks Seokjin, who is smiling despite himself.

“Definitely a compliment. I’ll admit, she reminded me of that one fashion mogul we knew in Paris. The one...Jimin, you know the one I’m talking about. Red hair, lazy eye?”

“It wasn’t a lazy eye, hyung,” Jimin corrects, “she was just keeping an eye out in all directions.”

“Yeah, anyway,” Seokjin says, “none of that matters. We got the stuff. Took a while, but we got it.”

Taehyung empties his plastic shopping bag onto a wiped-down old table, cardboard boxes falling onto the surface. “I’ve got to say, modern medicine is pretty ground-breaking. I wish we were smart enough to have invented it earlier.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Yoongi asks, sounding a lot less interested than he actually is. “I wouldn’t think that sleeping pills would affect us.”

At this, Namjoon bites his lip. “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’ve been doing some thinking. If the pills aren’t hurting us, our bodies shouldn’t heal too quickly; they should still have time to take effect. Just like how we can get drunk but not have liver issues, or smoke but not get cancer.”

“But smoking’s still gross,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“So,” Hoseok ponders aloud, “if we take the pills, it should prolong our sleep so that we can lengthen the dream? Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ve never been able to test it,” Namjoon shrugs. “The worst thing that could happen is our body processes it quicker than it works, and we have a normal night’s sleep with normal visions. It’s worth a shot.”

“I think a few of us should not take the pills,” Seokjin says. “That way, if the pills really do work, some of us can still wake up normally in case of an emergency.”

Namjoon nods his head in agreement. “Okay. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it tonight. Until then, let’s rest.”

The second time you wake up, you are significantly less disorientated. You know where you are, what has happened and, most importantly, that you should definitely be dead.

You’d seen the gun, heard the click, felt the bullet spilt through your skull. You know what a killing shot is, have dealt a few yourself, so you know that you should not be opening your eyes to an intense headache right now.

An acrid odour drifts through your dazed thoughts, a stench so strong, so unpleasant, that bile immediately rises and spills from your mouth. You don’t have much to vomit, so you spit mostly water and stomach acid onto the ground beneath you as you wretch from your aching throat.

No, not the ground. Something far worse.

When the tears from your eyes clear away and you look to the ground, you see what is digging into your skin, jabbing at your muscles; you aren’t sure why, or how, but you are lain across a pile of bones and scraps of cloth, sizzling flesh still warm to the touch and sticking to you in chunks. You are atop a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and soaked to the bone with the reeking smell of charred flesh.

Your stomach is empty, and so you can only scramble from the pile and retch.

For several minutes, all you can do is allow your body’s attempt to empty itself on the ground. Even more so than before, your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and questions and worries, most of which lead to the fact that you are lying naked in the middle of a desert, next to a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and somehow alive.

You are at least thankful that you are already lying on the ground when you faint.

*

There are seven pairs of eyes⎯brown, warm⎯that look at you, look at each other. Words remain unspoken, for the pupils reveal every thought, every emotion. I care for you deeply, they say, now and forever. The words are not meant for you, not yet, but they feel familiar. As if you have heard them in every past life⎯

⎯Surrounded by trees, a sight which would usually calm you but now only acts as a hindrance, you run through the familiar forest without grace. Bare feet bleed trails of red through the undergrowth, sore arms never dropping the heavy weapons that slow you down so. You should not be alone, never usually are, but now you are accompanied only by your panic and the wolves that chase you. These ones, however, do not howl or gnash their feral jaws; they calculate, the way only a human can⎯

⎯Metal hangs heavy around your lithe neck, skin raw and bleeding beneath its unrelenting grip. Fingers grab into your filthy hair, knotting into your bun. Worthless piece of filth, growls a man. You are not unfamiliar with his tone, nor his insults, though this is the first time you have felt a glob of saliva being spat onto your cheek. Can’t even follow the basic rules. Somebody really ought to make an example of you⎯

⎯This room is bright, brighter than the last, and yet somehow glooms darker than all. Shadows hang heavy in the corner where invasive eyes hide, but you can look only to the man who sits in front of you, posture relaxed despite the tensity that thickens the air. Go on, he taunts as you are shoved to your knees, the pain nothing compared to the fear that fills you at the sight of the executioner’s sword. Show us that smile of yours. Grant the world one more. Grant him, he nods towards another figure who you refuse to meet gazes with, one last dazzling grin. You do not, but you do whisper an apology under your breath, one that will never be heard⎯

⎯Gold silk hangs from your broad shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully down your tall body. Each detail stitched into the delicate robe sparkles in the candlelight, patterns that tell stories of love and power and beauty. Jeonha, somebody says to you, a face that is hidden from your view. I am sorry for this, Jeonha. Gold silk soon turns crimson when the knife plunges into your back. You are not even allowed the courtesy of looking into your killer’s eyes⎯

⎯You had always thought that you would live longer, survive the odds set against you, but you know now, as your mother tends to the gash carved into your chest, that this time, luck is not your benefactor. It is not so bad, she assures, though you know the look in her eyes, see the light in them dimmed with grief of a life not yet lost. You wish to tell her everything, anything, but the words bubble up in your throat and you struggle to spit them out. She knows, though, you can see that she knows, and her calming hand rests over your heart, which beats slower and slower with each moment. I love you, my sun, my son. Rest well. Her hand grows cold, or maybe that is you. For you no longer feel, no longer worry, only close your eyes and fall⎯

⎯Urgency pumps your blood faster, the sound echoing in your ears, as your weeping eyes search around you. Nothing, not the chaos around you nor the wound in your shoulder, can stop your wobbly legs from moving, not when you have to find him. There you are, comes his voice from behind you, and you turn so quickly that you become dizzy. But he is there, wounded yet alive, and he is offering you a smile that you struggle to return. You fall into his arms, he into yours, hold each other with all the strength that you have. And when an arrow pierces through your heart, spearing through his chest, you are connected even when you fall, lifeless⎯

*

This time, you wake with a gasp and a speeding heart, images so vivid still lingering in your mind. Your chest is still sore where your heart lies, the organ heavy with another’s grief, and you are surprised to find yourself covered in your own tears.

Still in the dirt, still nude, still alive, and still confused, you know that the only way to survive is to keep moving. Memories of dreams that had felt so real may plague your mind for a while, but you cannot dwell. You have had nightmares before, strange and also plausible ones, and you know. You know that to submit to the darkness of your own mind is a death sentence in itself. So you stand up, dust off your bare skin, and begin walking in an unknown direction.

You only cast one glance back at the bodies behind you. Your team, in all probability. Your friends. You are leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

This, too, you do not allow yourself to dwell on. Not now. Not yet.

Though the night has long since begun, darkness creeping into every corner of the room, one figure lies awake, thinking. Listening.

He is selfish, he supposes, for choosing not to sleep in a time when it can be so important. He should be allowing the visions to greet him, remembering the details, soaking it all in. Instead, he blinks away his exhaustion in exchange for wandering thoughts. He is not ready to allow another’s memories into his mind; for his to enter their’s. He has unwillingly revealed his sins to far too many already.

Hoseok is afraid. And he is tired.

Around him, his six loves breathe deeply, bodies relaxed in slumber and minds lost to the visions of their eighth soul. Some stir, occasionally, and he is sure he’s heard one of the maknaes whimper, but all is otherwise silent.

He would die a million painful deaths just to ensure that they could maintain this peace forever. He supposes he has, already. But he doesn’t regret it. Not for them.

Though the silence is calming, it also beckons his eyes closed and his mind into darkness. So, in an attempt to battle the tantalising call of sleep, he rolls over, stands up, and quietly sneaks out of the crumbling building they’ve taken shelter in.

The air outside nips at his skin, prickling goosebumps down his back and arms, but it is always chilly at this time of year, in this part of Europe. He forgets which country they’re in. Possibly close to France, but likely somewhere in Italy. He can smell salt in the air, the ocean not far away.

Yes. Italy.

Through thick undergrowth and overgrown weeds he wanders, mind idle and busy all at once. His feet take him around the perimeter of the area⎯a consequence, he supposes, of living a paranoid life⎯but his thoughts are elsewhere. On a girl he has yet to meet. On you.

How will you react, he wonders, to this life? To them? Through the brief flashes he has seen of you, you are a woman who seems steadfast, capable, and determined. But he’d also seen your team; felt the love you hold for them. Will you be able to part from the life that you can no longer lead? Will you eventually accept them as your new family?

There are too many questions, too many things to worry about. This is why he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from behind until two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You should be asleep.” The words are whispered beside his ear, warm breath fanning down his neck. He shivers, but doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

Hoseok sags into the strong embrace, allows the arms to tighten around his chest, and sighs. “I’m worried, Namjoon.” Namjoon hums, doesn’t say anything. “Is it selfish of me to not want to see her memories? To not want her in my head?”

A pair of plump lips kiss the tip of his ear. “Perhaps,” Namjoon says. When Hoseok stiffens, he pulls him closer. “But being selfish is not necessarily a bad thing. You are allowed to prioritise yourself every once in a while.” Namjoon can sense that Hoseok is not yet appeased, so he adds, “There are six of us here to take the visions when you can’t. And if you do decide to rest, there will be six of us here to hold you through it. Being selfish does not mean that you are alone.”

“I’m so tired,” Hoseok whispers, and they both know that he is not referring to his lack of sleep. “We’ve all got such baggage, so much hurt, and I wonder if adding the weight of an eighth will be too much.”

“Hey.” Namjoon gently turns Hoseok in his arms, holding him close still. They look into each other’s eyes, see everything that they have grown familiar with. That they have grown to love. “We will also have another person to help share the load. For now and forever, we are in this together. It’s okay to have doubts, or worries, but never forget that you are ours and we are yours.”

Foreheads touch and eyes close, the silence of the night engulfing them as they share each other’s heat. And here, they are okay. They still have fears, still have troubling thoughts, but they are not so bad when they are together.

“C’mon,” Namjoon mumbles. “Let’s go back inside. Whether you decide to sleep or not, we should stay with the others. You know how they can get about cuddle piles.”

This does make Hoseok breathe a laugh. “Okay. And hey, Namjoon.” He presses their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. “Thank you, my love.”

“My eternal,” Namjoon replies.

That night, they both allow sleep to take them. They join the others in dreams of bloodshed, heartache, and death. And they hold each other a little closer. And they are okay.

< prev ⎯ next >

[pennyserenade]

ungodly hour --

tags: nameless oc x agent whiskey. angst ? rating: m ( mature ) warnings: talk of smut, language, mentions of violence, blood. word count: 1k+ summary: desire and passion are curious things, capable of bringing one pieces of heaven and catapulting them into the fires of hell all in one go.  notes: this is pretty short and i wanted it to be more fun, but i don’t think i’m capable of making something like that. i also wanted this to only be a one part story, but i don’t think i’m capable of making those either so this will probably be three parts. n e ways i’m here to give this jack daniels bitch the complexity he deserves !  original gif by: @javier-pena​

Her knees rest on his forearms, and she pushes his shoulders into the ground beneath him, earning a groan as his head bounces lightly off of the ground. 

“Fuck,” he winces through clenched teeth. She smiles down at him, mirroring the same sort of cockiness he wears on his features every day. He offers a narrow eyed glare. “Your knees are bony.”

She adjusts above him, pressing said knees into him just enough to earn a soft, escaped “ah” from his lips. He closes his eyes, fighting the pain until she settles her weight back onto his torso. Her hands run over the surface of his chest, up and up and up, until nimble fingers find a home on his throat. She’s ghosting over all the important parts in a way that makes him nervous and her excited. He shouldn’t have doubted her. He shouldn’t have betrayed her. 

“You’re not very wise, cowboy.”

She tilts her head upwards, inspecting the way his eyelids squeeze shut as her fingers press gently into the flesh of his neck. He’s not afraid, because he knows she won’t hurt him like that; he’s sad because she wants to. 

“Nothing to say now?” she asks, leaning in closer to him, moving her hand away. Her warm breathe cascades against the side of his face when she leans forward and tells him, “You’re a fucking coward, baby.”

He doesn’t expect the way she nibbles on the shell of his ear afterwards, or the way her tongue swipes against the base of his neck in a way. He shudders beneath her. 

He wishes his hands were freed, and he fights against her hold momentarily before he realizes she’s not going to let him go. 

And why should she? 

She hovers above him, his head resting between the hands that prop her up. She’s still close enough where he can feel her breathe on his face. 

“You ever heard of the kiss of death, Jack?” She presses an open mouthed kiss on his jaw, and instinctively, he moves away from the sensation. She laughs hollowly. “The Sicilian mob bosses used it as a signal,” she continues. “If you had betrayed them, they marked you like that, and that was it—you were sentenced for death.” She presses another kiss, this time closer to his lips. His eyes open, staring curiously up at her. Her calm, cool facade almost begins to crack when they make eye contact and she sees remorse pool in his eyes. Almost. 

“Did you mark me, Whiskey?” she asks, voice honeyed. “Was that what you were doing?”

“Not quite, darlin’.”

The sudden sound of his voice, drenched in that southern twang of his, makes her halt. Her eyebrows quirk. 

“Oh no?”

“No,” he shakes his head. It's the only thing he can do right now. 

She offers him another laugh, free of mirth. Her fingers take the shape of a gun, and she pokes him roughly in the stomach with it, her fingernail digging uncomfortably into his flesh. 

“Just like that, Jack,” she whispers. “Just like that, you fucked it all up.”

She bites at her lip. Her eyes train on the fake finger gun that presses into him, and she remembers the very real way he’d pressed a real one into her earlier that night. He was more gentle, she remembers. She only felt the ghost of it, and he’d offered an apologetic look as he did it. He hadn’t pressed the trigger on it, either, but he had pulled the one on the gun in his other hand, the one that was pointed at the target. She remembers the way she had winced when the shot rang throughout the building and the way he hadn’t even moved his eyes away from her when he did it. She remembers thinking “I’m next,” but her bullet never came. He had put the gun back in her hand and said, “I had to do it.”

A stain of blood remains embedded on her pink evening gown, the one that had matched the pocket handkerchief in his tan suit before it was ruined so unceremoniously. She had screamed, not out of fear, but frustration. She had worked hard on that case, had been watching him and seducing that man, and getting all the access she had needed to build a better case against more people like him. And she was close, too. 

“You were jealous,” she spits. Her finger gun flats out now, her hand resting on her thigh. “You were jealous because I had done so much of that case without you and you couldn’t stand it so you pointed a gun at me and shot him because you knew I couldn’t do anything.”

“That’s not true,” he answers, voice soft. “I did it because you were in over your head.” 

“No I wasn’t!” she shrieks. “I knew exactly what I was doing and you ruined it, you fucking bastard.”

“Baby—“

She presses her knees back into his forearm and he winces again. “Don’t call me that.”

“Goddamnit,” he spits out sharply. 

She leans in closer to him again. His head goes between her arms and her breath ghosts over him once more. “Tell me,” she presses her lips to the side of his mouth, testing the waters, “do you like it when we fight like this? That’s why you did it? This is perverse, even for you, cowboy.” 

Her lips press onto his, rough and hard, and everything in him tells him to turn away, to not indulge in this, but he can’t. She bites his bottom lip, tugging gently, and he moans into her mouth. Then she bites down a bit harder and when she pulls back, he can taste the blood she’s drawn.  

“Baby,” he says softly, looking into her eyes, pleading. She’s distant, far away, but she hears him, the version of her that is warm and bubbly and not bitter like this at all. Her fingers wipe the blood from his lips and she presses another kiss onto them. She’s gentler now and without really thinking about it, she moves off his arms. He groans in relief, and he places his hands on her sides. She trusts him enough to let him, even if he’s pressed a gun into her stomach and made her a fool. Trusts him because he’s Jack and she’s not sure she loves him, but she’s certain their relationship has advanced past just fucking. 

“I don’t want to be kind to you,” she admits. 

“Don’t be.”

His hand wraps around the wrist that is holding her up above him, and he moves her hand to its original position on his neck. She looks at him, slightly stunned and confused; she wants to be angry, and she wants to hurt him the way he’s hurt her, but the way his eyes darken with desire makes her halt. 

Jack had the ability to appear rather full of himself in public, sure of his abilities as a spy and confident about his looks. Some of this translated well into moments like this, when they found themselves in close proximity to each other, drawing illicit sounds from one another. She often let him take control, favoring this confidence because it made him a more interesting being--something to be truly admired in the light of desire. 

He was a handsome man, and sometimes when they slept together, she was possessed with this odd feeling she was sleeping with some sort of God. She wouldn’t ever say this, but there were times when he had held her just right; when his mouth found the exact spot she wanted it to, when his hands rested on the curve of her breasts, when he huffed into her flesh and spit out dirty, filthy things in that accent of his. And, more alarmingly, sometimes she thought this even after they’d fucked each other into a sort of stunned silence. Moments where she’d begun to look over and a bead of sweat traveled down the tanned skin of his neck, when his plush lips pursed as his eyebrows furrowed, when he laid on the pillow and his chest rose and fell quickly and the slope of his nose made her feel warm and giddy. 

It was unfair, really, that he had to go and point that gun at her, reminding her that he was no God at all. When he pressed it into her, she became vastly aware of his morality. He became bound to the human condition, a man with a pulse and a heart, something she could hurt and something that could hurt her in the way only humans do. 

She takes her hand away from his neck. 

“I’m getting reassigned tomorrow,” she tells him, voice monotone. 

And just like that, he’s gotten his wish. 

tagged: @astroboots​, @over300books​, @penajavier​

[aperrywilliams]

I don’t know you anymore/Part V (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

———————

Summary: Reader and Spencer have a lot to talk about (maybe not just talk...)

Word Count: 4282.

Rating: Mature. Angst. Smut. (Hope in the end?)

Warnings: Penetrative sex, cursing.

A/N: This is Part V (and final) of “I don’t know you anymore”. Thanks to everyone who took time to read it. You mean a lot for me!

——————–

We can go sit on your back porch Relax Talk about anything It don't matter I'll be courageous if you can pretend That you've forgiven me

The shock of recent events kept me awake. It was almost impossible not close my eyes and see me in the interrogation room. To see how Gabriel pointed his gun at me. To listen the body of Hunter dropping to the floor. To see Gabriel killed by a bullet fired by Spencer. To see Spencer after more than a year. Much to process. My life had taken a dramatic turn in hours. And there I was, lying on a hotel bed, with my back to the ceiling. What should I do?, was worth staying in Philadelphia?, had I the energy to start again elsewhere? .Whatever I must to decide, there was something kept bothering me: why did Spencer has to be here? By now he should have realized I didn’t "move" much this year. He did it? The things Spencer told me hours before made me speculate some things about 'us' still live in him. Or at least it was my wish. I felt bad. Hunter didn’t deserve my love for him like something functional to try to forget Reid. It was unfair. And now he was dead. My life was turning into a terrible gore movie. I hated that feeling.

My eyes were heavy, but it was impossible to fall asleep. I was tossing and turning. Would it be better to leave Philadelphia? Maybe what I said to Spencer about trying luck in Chicago might be a good idea. Start over. Again. Although something told me I had never started again. I felt still trapped in the feelings that made me flee DC more than one year ago.

In the talk of a few hours before I felt again how there was some habitual between us. As if there were things we never forgot about each other. It felt strangely good. And although neither knew exactly what had happened in the other's life - or at least I didn't - my heart was telling me the essence I loved most about Spencer was there. But it was not an option. I had already made that decision over a year ago. I couldn't back down. There were reasons to end our relationship and it wasn't a whim. I think he also finally understood.

It had to be strong. As much as I wanted to feel his comforting hug again, it wasn't right. I didn't want him to misinterpret my gratitude. Now, was it gratitude I felt at the time? The heat running through my body told me a different story. I miss him. Not a day went by I didn't miss him and want him with me. When I thought I had stopped loving Spencer Reid it was obvious I don't.

We had already tried and it didn’t work. Why should it be different this time?. Maybe it's necessary to give a final closure to this. It's a torture to think of all the "what ifs" possible. I had to let him go. I have to close every window could give us any hope. This had to be done once and for all.

I got out of bed, put on a jacket, and went downstairs to Spencer's room. What was I going to say to him at this hour of night I couldn't do in the morning? I didn’t know. I just knew I need to free that feeling stuck in my chest. I knocked gently on the door twice. Hoped he was awake. If he didn't open the door then I would go back to my room. I wasn’t going to insist. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes when I felt the door open and see Spencer looking at me with concern. He asked me if I was okay or if something was wrong. I wasn’t able to say a word. I just let my body speak for me. I got close enough to rise on my feet and catch his lips. What was I thinking? Probably in a farewell.

Would he be thinking the same thing? It was likely, since while we were kissing he took me by the waist and pulled me into the room, closing the door. How I missed those lips. I felt in a dream, guilty, but in a dream after all. My hands couldn't stay still, my fingers were lost in his soft hair, at the base of his neck, on his shoulders, on his face. I held on as much as I could to him so he wouldn't let me go. Feeling his breath so close to my face again brought me back to the best memories of our life together. Why is so difficult to let this man go?

When Spencer pulled back to look at me, his hands were still on my waist, a sign he didn't want to let me go either.

"(Y/N)..." he tried to speak but I cut him off immediately.

"Shhhh... don’t. You don't have to say anything. I just came to say goodbye…”. I said trying to find his lips again.

"No, I... I need to tell you..." without wanting to stop kissing me, he struggled to get words out of his mouth.

"I don’t want to know. Please don't say anything… just… let me have you one more time, ok?”. I just needed to be with him. I didn’t want to argue. I didn't want to question anything. I just needed him. Tomorrow I would see what to do. I just wanted to feel him one more time. My hands began to search for his skin under the shirt he wore, pulling to remove it from his body. He just released my waist to raise his arms and take the garment out. I dropped my jacket to the floor. Taking my waist again, he pushed me back until my back collided with one of the walls of the room. His mouth began to search my neck while with his fingers he unbuttoned the top of my pajamas and dropped it to the floor. Moans came from both of us. As my nails ripped at the skin on his arms, Spencer was anxious about leaving marks on my skin with his mouth and teeth, drowning out his moans and dropping loose phrases along with my name. I also couldn't help but empty part of my head into words.

"(Y/N)... I missed you so much..."

"Please Spencer... take me... I need you..."

"All these months... I’ve never... left..."

"Neither do I…"

"I’ll never let you go again... I promise..." I don't know if my head was playing tricks on me, but hearing his words gave me a false sense of 'reconciliation'. I knew it wasn’t possible. I pushed those thoughts away from my head and concentrated on his caresses. It's as it should be. Looking for his lips again, I began to push him gently towards the bed, where he dropped down leaning on his forearms, watching as I  removed my pants and straddle him, but not before taking out his own pants, letting them fall to the floor.

There were things I hadn't forgotten about our intimacy, and one of them was what parts of Spencer’s body did I need to stroke and kiss to turn him on. I could see this had not changed in these months. His needy moans were the signal I needed to go along.

Being with his hands free while I straddling him, Spencer started squeezing my breasts. If I had to say what kind of man Spencer Reid was in terms of taste, clearly he is a man of breasts instead bottom. His eyes delighted at the sight, as my hands traced lines across his chest. He took my wrists and pulled me to him to catch me in a deep kiss. As if he wanted to suppress his words in those actions. In whispers some phrases escaped from his mouth.

"Do you want this?... do you want to ride me?... if that's you want, take it. Take everything you want from me. Tonight I want to please you for all the nights we haven't been together…” . I didn't need more. I adjusted my knees between his waist and aligned my entrance with his cock. Without warning I began to sink into him, letting out moans of pleasure as I felt him more and more.

"Fuck Spencer..." was all I could say before completely sinking. He let out a gasp as he felt inside me.

"(Y/N) you take it so good... I missed this so much... you do it so good...". That said, he started moving up his hips to feel more intensely how our bodies were rubbing together. If I had not forgotten how I should to touch him to turned on, he hadn’t forgotten what to do to make me feel this good. My moans were mixed with gasps that didn’t stop our movements. His hands on my hips helped me keep my pace and stability as I arched my back and dropped my head back. The movement became more frantic each time, I could see how Spencer tried to keep his eyes open and fixed on me. I also tried to keep my eyes on him even though was more difficult as I getting closer to my orgasm.

“(Y/N), baby… you feel so good. You make me feel so good. Yes, do it like this, take it, come on... take it all... I love you baby, I love you so much... I’ll never let you go again...". I connected those words to the excitement of the moment, but I couldn't help but remember the first time we had sex after Spencer was released from prison. It was very much like this moment. Both needy, both in love, both missing the other, both making promises about the future. But I didn't want to think about it. Not now. That little distraction was enough to keep me from realizing when I was now flat on my back on the mattress and Spencer began to thrusting me strongly, taking my hands over my head. The feeling was so pleasant I couldn't keep my eyes open. He kept talking to me between moans and gasps.

“(Y/N)… look at me, let me see your eyes. Please…". With effort I opened my eyes and looked directly at him. I could see my own lust reflected in him.

"Fuck Spencer... harder... I'm close...". I was struggling to prolong the sensation as much as possible before my orgasm, but I needed rudeness, I needed to lose control.

"(Y/N) say my name, say it ... tell me how I make you feel..."

"Spence... you make me feel so good... Spencer, you fuck me so good, baby... I love you... I love you so much... always love you...". At the crest of my orgasm those words came out of my mouth. And they were true. I don't know if he really noticed it, but at least they served to encourage him and make him lose control. His frantic movements combined with his fingers over my clit. A couple more thrusts were enough and I had lost myself in the heights.

"Fuck (Y/N)... I'm going to..."

Another couple of thrusts and I could feel how he cum inside me. A deep, hoarse moan came from his throat. Without much trouble, he fell on top of me, sinking his head into my shoulder. Only the sound of our labored breaths could be heard. A few seconds later he leaned on his hands to look at me. His glossy eyes, his lips and cheeks glowing along with that messy hair and beads of sweat running down his forehead were a panorama that only awakened more love in me. Without saying anything he began to kiss me. I just wrapped my arms around his neck and responded with a fervent and deep kiss. When we pulled away I could see a smile on his face. He got out of bed on the way to the bathroom. Returning from my ecstasy my neurons began to work again. It wasn't I regretted what I had done, it was just now I really didn't know what I was going to do. Was this the farewell I expected? No. I didn't expect him to rekindle those feelings in me. So was it true that neither of us managed to beat the other this year?

When he came back from the bathroom he brought a damp cloth and began to gently move it over my thighs and crotch to remove any residue of himself from me. He put it on the nightstand and leaned his back against the back of the bed, looking at me. The time to talk had come.

***

I didn’t expect that. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Seeing her in front of my door in the night ready to 'say goodbye' to me was a lot to process. I let myself go. Of course I wanted to be with her, not for that precise reason, but something inside me told me I could awaken some hope with this action.

I sat down on the backside of the bed and looked at her. It wasn’t the best place or time to discuss this, probably not, but time was running out. I wasn't going to let my silence make her run away from me again. (Y/N) hurried to speak first.

"I think I'd better get back to my room..." (Y/N) said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to me.

"No. We cannot let this go and not talk about it ”

"I already told you Spencer, I just came to say goodbye..." she said avoiding my gaze and getting out of bed. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

"(Y/N), I need half an hour of your time. Could you do that for me? If after that you think it is best to you leave, that's fine. I will understand...”. Would it be enough time to tell her everything? I hoped so.

"Do you think there are things to talk about?" she said with a bitter smile.

"Of course I do! If I remember correctly the last time we spoke, I didn't say much... and ok, it's my fault. I just want you to hear my part of the story. I propose this: let's get dressed and we can drink a coffee. After this, no one will be able to sleep anyway”. She thought a few seconds, then nodded.

"Ok. A coffee I think would be good idea”

We dressed quietly and I started making coffee from the machine in the room. It wouldn't be the best coffee in the world, but at least it would help. I placed two mugs on the small table settled in the corner of the room and gestured for her to sit down. After taking a sip and taking a deep breath, I started to speak.

"Do you remember how we got our first date?" I asked her.

"Are we going to review our entire history in half an hour?" she said crossing her arms over her chest. She was in defensive attitude. I tried not to let that stop me.

"You remember it?". I insisted.

"Yes. We had seen each other in Dr. Stevens' office a couple of times. When he wasn't there we talked for a while if you were willing to wait for him. Until one day I dared and invited you to a coffee. I think it was the first time I invited someone to come out first…”. (Y/N) said with a warm smile.

"That’s right. And I was so glad you did. It would have taken me more months do it myself, you know? Well, and I also suppose you have realized all those times I was going to visit Dr. Stevens, I really knew he was not there and I only came to see you…”. (Y/N) shook her head and bit her lower lip trying not to laugh.

"I wasn't sure, but I had no doubts about that either..." she said taking a sip of coffee. "It's a nice memory Spencer, but I don't know where you want to go with all this..."

"Do you remember our first kiss?" I said without wanting to answer her last question.

"Are you saying the time I kissed you on the threshold of my apartment door when we went out to dinner?". (Y/N) said describing the moment.

"Yep. Precisely. When my hands were shaking and I was dying to kiss you but I didn't dare. Until you did it and also, inside I thanked the gods I would not have had to wait months until I dared to do it. Well, I could also list several things I didn't dare to do for fear of rushing things or fear of ruining what was happening between us…”

"Yes, you were quite shy... I had forgotten that part..." (Y/N) said.

“But I learned a lot of things with you. I started to feel more confident in myself, especially in a relationship. I don't want to be a thorough on this, but I don't think I've ever told you how much I learned from you. And I regret not tell you about it before… just as I regret not having been more explicit about how important you were in my life the whole time we were together…”

“At that point I think the fault fall on both of us. We just took it for granted…” (Y/N) said with a sigh.

“The last time we spoke… over a year ago, you said things to me I didn't expect to hear, even though I was very aware our relationship was in bad shape. You said it was impossible to repair something that was already broken... and told me you felt you were not what I needed...". I could see how (Y/N) avoided my gaze and concentrated on her coffee mug. I dared to take her hand to make her look at me. "Hey!... I need you to know a few things about that so you understand why as far as I'm concerned, you shouldn't think that."

"Do you really think you can repair something that is broken...?" she said with a bitter smile.

"Not repair, rebuild. But for that we have to go back to our initial pact, remember?” I said, stroking his hand with my thumb.

“To tell everything we feel. No hide anything”. I nodded.

"Yes. And in that, I failed. I know. I broke that promise and left you enough away for you thought you were no longer important in my life. Do you remember what I told you the day I was released from prison?”

"I do. That we were going to make up for lost time. That we were never going to part. That no one could ever intervene in our relationship again…”

"That’s right. What I didn't count on was my obsession wanting to remove the things had happened in prison. As if not saying them was enough to make them not exist. But they did exist. Some you saw, some you felt... but I didn't want to tell you anything. I kept it for myself”

"Why did you do the opposite of what we had agreed? Did you really think you could protect me that way? Protect me from what?..."

"From me. It’s true I was no longer the same person, (Y/N). When you told me you felt you didn't know me anymore, it was confirmation of that. But what I never wanted to reveal was I was afraid of the person I had become… and I was afraid of hurting you by showing you this part of me. I was afraid to show it and give you a reason to stop loving me, for not being the same person you felt in love in first place. For some strange reason I thought keeping the routine between us was going to block the growing anger, the little patience, the lack of control I came to feel many times. Which, clearly, was not successful: our constant discussions proved it, do you remember?". I could see how tears rolled down (Y/N)'s cheeks. I also felt my eyes fill with tears, but I needed to stay calm to continue talking.

"I just wanted to know, want to help... but you didn't want to speak to me...". (Y/N) said between sobs.

"I see that. I left you apart. It's my fault. Believe me, I never wanted to go that far. But you should know it has always been you. You were the only person who could have understood and I left you out… you are the one who knows me better than anyone and although blindly, you knew exactly things were not right”. I said taking her other hand with mine.

"And what has changed in these months? What could be different now?..."

“I just want to say one more thing before I answer that question. The thing is… it’s completely false you are not the woman I deserve. It’s completely untrue you are not enough for me. And please forgive me for whatever I did to make you think that. I don't need a woman with an IQ equal to mine, I don't need a woman who with my same job, I don't need a woman who thinks like me, who has my same schedule, I don't need a woman with a stunning external beauty. I need you. You. You are the only woman to me. Even if I'm the one who doesn't deserve you. You’re intelligent, you have made your own way in life, you’re understanding, loving, so brave, you have overcome all the troubles you have faced, you are able to share your love with others, you are able to understand me ... and what a challenge! You have been my rock for three years and I had to lose you to be able to realize it…”. I released her hands, got up from the chair and walked over to where she was sitting. I knelt down in front of her and took her hands again. Tears still ran down her cheeks.

"Please Spencer, stop... don't keep talking..."

"I have not finished. I have 5 minutes to talk…”. That made her smile a little. “About your last question… what has changed? My love for you has not changed one bit, but my desire to compensate for having broken my promise and wanting to be with you beyond anything else is a realization more present in me today than before. What could be different? Whatever we'll want to be. I’m willing to do everything in my power to make you love me again, to you trust me again, to win back you as my friend and lover. Do you want to stay in Philadelphia? Okay. I’ll stay with you. Do you want to go to Chicago ? I’ll go with you…”

"I love you Spencer ... but I could never make you quit your job for me..." she said getting up from the chair and taking my hands so I could get up too.

"Not just for you, my love. For us. If it’s necessary, I’m ready to do it”. She was shaking her head.

"No, doing that would destroy you...". (Y/N) said hugging me and resting her head on my chest.

"I already feel like I'm completely destroyed without you ...". I said as I pressed her against my body. "Please give me a chance to show you how important you’re in my life...". I said without being able to hold back my tears. We were silent holding each other and sobbing.

"Maybe there is something else we can do...". (Y/N) said in a soft voice, barely perceptible. I pulled away to look her in the eye.

"I'll try anything you want...". I said.

"Let's to know each other again...". I looked at her a little oddly. I didn't know if I was comprehending what she meant. She smiled. For the first time an openly smile and I could see a different sparkle in her eyes. She took a pencil and paper from the table and wrote a number. "This is my number. I don't know how many more days I'll be here in Philly. I have to put things in order before going anywhere else. A few days ago I received an email from Dr. Stevens of Georgetown, asking me what I was currently working on. I think he has an open spot on his team. I'll think about it…". My smile could not have been bigger, which (Y/N) noticed and hurried to keep talking. “If I return to DC, I’ll stay with my sister a while. Time will tell Dr. Reid. Sounds good to you?". I happily nodded. She approached to me again, she tip toe rose and gave me a long, deep kiss. When we pulled away she gave me a smile, grabbed her jacket and left the room. Before closing the door she said "I love you Spencer. I mean it. Call me".

That’s what they call hope, a feeling that makes things almost impossible feel achievable. I clung to that hope. I trust in this woman with all my being. And if this is my last chance, I'm not going to waste it. I dialed the number on my phone and save it. This time, I won't let anything unsaid between us.

——————–

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Two || “You.”

“And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

The needle a centimeter away from your finger and the one sitting between your incisors each created a rattling noise as you pressed the pump with your left foot and created a steady vibration. You opened and closed your lips ever so slightly in concentration. It was an evident possibility that your finger could inch its way too close to the hopping needle or that your tongue could swivel onto the pointed end and prick a drop of blood. But determination got the best of you as you heard the giggles and confident praises the seamstresses emitted. The stitching of your first full sweater would be completed in mere seconds, its elegant trail smiling right back up at you as the needle halted to a fine finish. 

The ladies cheered as you carefully removed the sleeve from under the machine, holding your first completed work of art up in the air for everyone to marvel at. It was a dark green color, similar to how you would imagine those black and white photographs concealed the true pigment of the vast Amazon rain forest. It was easily donned over one’s head and onto the body in a swift movement of lifted arms and lacked the tightness of your dated Victorian clothing. It welcomed a breezy and comfortable afternoon with tea and silent tranquility. It was simple but the ladies in the workshop would not let your first completed stitching go unnoticed. You were a valued customer, as was your mother years ago before she began buying from more established designers, and their exclamations were definitely ones full of pride. 

“It’s a wonder you finished so quickly! Come, let’s have a look at what you’ve accomplished!”

The ladies made sure the doors were locked before you stripped away your upper layers and uncomfortable corset. You breathed a sigh of a relief and a chuckle of reassurance for the worried faces staring back at you. You pulled the masterpiece over your head and immediately squealed in delight, happy that the fabric which treated your working hands delicately also did the same for your torso. It was slightly bigger than your form, baggy enough for you to fit both arms inwards as a blanket. You hugged yourself and swayed back and forth, smiling from the cheers and claps surrounding you. 

“There we go! Now you’re a proper seamstress!”

A few ladies scolded the woman who spoke of your ‘low’ title, but you quickly dismissed their worry. “It’s alright! I believe this new clothing item earned me a proper title.”

The ladies all congratulated your hard work once again but were interrupted by a hard knock on the door. It seemed all knew who was lurking behind the wood, the atmosphere altering to one of uneasy stillness. 

You sighed quietly, “Just go on.”

Everyone obliged, quickly picking up where they had left off before they had come to crowd around you and gawk at your hard work. You disregarded your other clothing laying on the floor and left your green sweater on. 

You yourself were a sight to marvel at, all done up in the face with regular-looking clothing somehow tainting the priceless property of your soon-to-be husband. Or maybe he had already placed a price tag on your skin, like how they mark cattle with an abrupt hot stab. You never knew anything these days. 

George cleared his throat and conducted a quick visual scan of the room. “You’re needed at the house, Miss.”

You breathed in deeply, mentally rolling your tired eyes at your fiancé’s personal bodyguard hire. It wasn’t that he was a total annoyance to have around, but that he was the most colossal annoyance to have entered your life after your fiancé, Cal. His eyes would never leave your body - not in an inappropriate manner but as caution for your safety. It was only on Tuesday you were able to free yourself from the constraints of your busy life to buy groceries alone, downtown, without help. It had become extra enjoyable to extend that peace by befriending the townspeople and participating in their daily lives. You didn’t view this as offensive simply because none of the seamstresses voiced a personal grievance. You wanted to partake in a normal activity, a hobby, in something you could actually call yours and not passed down through generations. But perhaps naming this a hobby while these women referred to it as their one underpaid job was privilege after all. 

“Do they need me immediately or do they simply want me home?”

Your questions once startled George as you proved to be quite the pistol, answering back and reminding him that you outrank him as well, not just Cal. It was rude to do so, you acknowledged, but the sudden burst of adrenaline your body experienced anytime you would not follow Cal’s orders easily were beginning to feel like a forbidden midnight craving. But George laughed off your wit and proceeded to point to your abandoned corset and upper part of your dress, as if telling you to suit up, and walked away to wait for you in the car, a cigarette in between his index and middle finger.

As you shut the door for some well-deserved privacy, some ladies of the shop narrowed their eyes while others shared their stares of pity. You had briefly mentioned your lack of desire to marry at such a young age, wanting to marry for love instead of insurance. While some of the ladies understood your point of view, others could not possibly believe you would give up the chance to settle down and be financially stable for the rest of your life. It was a difference of opinion and class, but one thing was certain - none of you were free from the constraints of men. 

You sadly stripped away the warmness of your sweater and lifted the white corset from the chair beside the sewing machine. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps painted a shy smile on your face. You remembered her name was Linda and watched as she rushed behind you to pull the strings of your corset slightly tighter than they already were. She was a middle-aged woman, more experienced than most women hired and perhaps the best. She had been the first to welcome you to the shop, teaching you the ropes of sewing - first by hand and then by machine. Linda often called her mentorship a privilege to conduct and made you promise to improve. 

“Oh, Miss. I know life isn’t what you want it to be, but when does it ever work out for people like us?”

You turned your head over your shoulder slightly to look at her, “You mean us women?”

Linda cleared her throat uncomfortably and finished tightening the last bit of your corset. “Yes, but… pardon me, Miss but I think you have more choice than the lot of us women combined. ”

Linda held out your jacket so you could tuck your arms in. You understood her point in matters of class, but as you slid your arms through the sleeves and saw how the glimmer of sunlight danced off your brown skin, you evaluated the types of privilege Linda had that you didn’t. But you would not overstep her boundaries, and instead remained quiet. 

“I don’t mean that to sound rude, Miss. Only that, even with an unhappy marriage, there are plenty of freedoms to explore that most people will never get to.”

You buttoned the front of your jacket yourself and let Linda finish speaking. What she said was absolutely correct. Lots of people suffer through boring and arranged marriages, finding joy once they bring new life into the world or handling the property portion of your household. It most certainly sounded like a simple compromise. But the thought of a loveless marriage with only the hope of conception to bring actual love into the world upset you. There had to be more to it than just that. 

“Thank you, Linda. I hope to see you in the next year or so.”

Linda momentarily covered her mouth in shock, “I completely forgot! You’re going to America!” Her outburst caused a couple of the ladies to murmur to each other, all sharing their want for the new American dream the papers were talking about. It was said there was no heavy violence, property was easy to obtain, and gold was discoverable by anyone with a working hand and a shovel. But you didn’t believe the lies - it was the same hole as England, if not worse. 

“Oh, please write, Miss! Share your adventures with the group,” Linda laughed, gathering your purse in her hands and into your waiting ones. She handed you the forgotten groceries and your new green sweater as well. “And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

You nodded and smiled to the group of ladies who had become your friends in such a short amount of time. “I’ll be sure to write with great detail. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Linda scoffed, “And if we do, you’ll hear about it through the mail!”

You laughed and voiced your goodbyes, walking out of a peaceful atmosphere into the polluted streets in search of the waiting car. 

The enjoyment of silence and limited movement had always been a treasured feeling. Your feet taking small steps across such a large bedroom and emitting such a small sound while the clock ticked every second was such a lighthearted moment in your busy schedule. You folded the last bit of your clothes from the drawers into the bags the maid fetched, making sure to wrap the small perfume bottles as tenderly as possible inside your undergarments. Neatly tucked away in the corners, you glanced around the grand bedroom that had witnessed your mental deterioration for the past two years. It had encased you in times of grief as you said final goodbyes to your father; in times of brief happiness each time one of your horses won a race; in times of uncomfortable stillness as you destroyed gifts from loved ones, corsets string-by-string, or bottles of champagne from congratulations on your engagement. It was time to say goodbye and welcome four new walls to witness more tumbling emotions. 

A small knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Thought you could use a little help with the last of your belongings.”

If it wasn’t for your incredible acting skills, you probably would have screamed at Cal a thousand and one times by now about absolutely everything and nothing. He was subtly controlling, insisting which books you should and shouldn’t read or what food you should or shouldn’t try. For an engagement that was barely three months strong, you had already experienced fifty years of a failed marriage. 

You gave a small smile, “Thank you.”

Cal stepped into the room with your given permission, shutting the door gently behind him and locking it. You sighed deeply as you heard the click, trying to occupy yourself by wrapping the last bottles of perfume with undergarments. It occured to you in that moment that your private wardrobe was out in the open, so you quickly tucked the last bottle without its personal wrap and zipped the bag closed. Cal didn’t seem to notice your clumsy actions, instead focusing on lighting the cigarette between his lips. 

You stood at the foot of your bed and clasped your hands together, “You know I don’t like cigarette smoke in my bedroom, Cal.”

Cal chuckled and moved to grab the bottom half of your torso. You allowed him to guide you into his chest, swaying with him back and forth while simultaneously avoiding the dangling stick from his lips. Cal exhaled the smoke over your head and made sure all the smoke exited before he leaned down to press scattered kisses across your neck. Self-control abandoned, the involuntary grimace to stain your face remained unseen by your poor fiancé, who was only trying to selfishly build a certain romantic mood that was sure to escalate in the next week on your wedding night. Cal had it in mind that if he introduced a new intimate gesture every day, you wouldn’t act so cold during the ceremony. It was worth a shot, but the complete disregard for your upset over cigarette smoke was enough to bump his score back a few points.

“I was hoping the packing was all finished,” Cal sighed, trailing his kisses closer to your collarbone. “The help gets paid for this, Sweetpea. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy.”

You cleared your throat to break the one-sided tension, “It calms me, actually. Besides, the household is busy preparing for our departure in other ways.”

Your engagement had caused a disruption in the everyday lives of your staff. It was known that you had to marry after your father’s death or else your family wealth was in jeopardy. Your father had left everything in your name - property, money in the banks, jewels - anything and everything. But it was the nonexistent trust of your capabilities that people would not outright express. Coupled with the fact you were in your early twenties, no one would confide in your training abilities, rent your property, or give you loans. Getting married was practically on the agenda since your father announced his diagnosis. 

“Think of this,” Cal began, blowing out smoke and flicking the ash onto the floor. “In a week's time, you won’t need to worry about anything.”

He paused before taking another long drag of his cigarette. “America will welcome us with open arms and open pockets.”

“Must we think too much of the future? Can’t we just enjoy the present moment?” you spoke quietly, still swaying against him. 

Cal chuckled softly and gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and index finger to tilt your head upward. “America is full of such rich opportunity! How can I not envision it?”

You shrugged your shoulders and departed his loose grasp. “I’m not saying you can’t imagine-”

“No need to imagine!” Cal yelled excitedly, playfully falling on his right side at the foot of your bed. “I know it isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s real…” he continued, looking up at the ceiling in undisturbed awe, “we can be as big as the Rockefellers.” 

You chuckled softly and picked up your bag to bring it to the chair by your door. “I’m sure our reachable dreams will suit us just fine.”

Cal scoffed jokingly, “Think of it! Your father’s property, our combined assets, the booming railroad business-”

“Actually, they say trains are becoming less and less valuable as automobiles become more affordable.”

Cal looked at you with wide eyes and a confused stare. “Well, whoever you are referencing was wrong.”

You wanted to list your sources and prove him wrong, but decided against the nasty argument. 

He continued to preach, “Just envision it, Sweetpea. It’s already in our grasp.”

You pretended to ‘envision’ his world by staring at the same spot he was, but could only see lonely nights in a house too big for the two of you and endless parties with mindless chatter. It was already draining the energy from your chest, so you simply lied to your fiancé to end the conversation.

“I can’t wait to see it, Cal.”

Cal jumped to his feet and fixed his tie before heading for the door. You could honestly say this was the longest conversation you ever had with Cal, and one where he wasn’t so bland. He seemed comfortable and relaxed around you right now, when usually he’s controlling and constrained. Air being sucked from your lungs without warning and then quickly replaced in a sharp and painful manner. A desperate reminder that you would have to learn to endure this endless suffering if you wanted to live comfortably. ‘Comfortable’ and ‘cheerful’ were two words that were completely foreign in feeling, on your tongue, in your social circle even. But yet again, you reminded yourself of your place - a place that you would simply have to learn the rules of. Cal was quick to change personalities anytime someone would interrupt your already tamed conversation, either showing you off as an extravagant prize or as a nuisance, someone to fetch him another Brandy. 

Perhaps it was due to the proximity of his American dream. 

“Perfect, Sweetpea,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow around seven. We have to be up bright and early to get to the docks by nine.”

You nodded and waved him goodbye, “See you then.”

You spent all night tossing and turning in your massive bed, hearing the trees sway with the wind and the midnight workers opening and shutting gates every five minutes. Silence greeted you only momentarily, somehow interrupting your thrashing or your wild thoughts, wishing you would open your eyes and imagine random designs in the ceiling above you. But as you did so, an intense wave of pain would sever any ounce of playful imagination your mind struggled to concoct, teasing an impossible ability to conceive a world other than your own. 

Tomorrow you would be locked away in the most elegant room on the grandest ship in the world, each swirl and twist of captivating designs sprawled across another four walls offering its own imagination to your tangled mind - another four walls that will observe your internal struggles with yourself, your husband-to-be, your “rich people problems”. 

And all you wanted was to disappear. Perhaps jump into that endless, blue abyss and have the world forget you ever breathed its air. Those four walls would only taunt you, remind you of the nauseating situation you were constantly in, breaking you further until all that’s left is another tombstone in your already crowded family garden. Your problems seemed miniscule as you thought about the setting of your deterioration, a luxurious and expensive atmosphere to suffocate inside. 

Perhaps you were overreacting. 

And as you heard another gate shutting and making an obscene amount of noise, you swallowed back those pitiful tears and reminded yourself that it could always be worse.

It could always be worse. 

But instead of disappearing, you decided to wander through the dark hallways of your home and sneak into the main kitchen. The peace and quiet you were hoping for as you devoured some chocolate chip cookies was absent and the kitchen roared with about half a dozen servants cleaning and packaging the food for donation. No one stopped their tasks because you entered the room, so you took that as an invitation to peck through the food on the counters. You found the sweets near the middle tables, still unpacked and freshly baked from this morning. You stacked a few cookies and lonely blackberries onto a single napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat to relish the flavor of each small creation. 

“Sugar at night will give you nightmares.”

You chuckled lightly, turning to smile at the only servant who took notice of your presence. “It’s worth it if this is the last time I’ll taste Hernando’s baked wonders.”

“Oh, don’t speak like that! Soon you’ll be back here and stuffing your face with all kinds of sweets.”

She wiped down the counter behind her quickly so she could sit beside you. You offered her a cookie, handing one to her but she declined. 

“What’s got you awake at near midnight? You have a busy day ahead and you need to rest up,” she said, folding her washcloth absentmindedly. Although you wanted to be fully honest with someone, you still kept most of your worries confidential. 

“I don’t want to go back to America,” you admitted. 

She scoffed, an action that modeled her desires rather than yours. “Why would you want to stay here? All of your father’s family is back in the states!”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your cookie. You spoke softly as to not invite gossip from others, “If I don’t go, then I won’t get married. Besides, all my family is out West. We’re staying on the east coast.”

She gave a sympathetic look, reaching out to tap your hand gently. “We’re not all meant to marry for love. But most of us do fall in love after… gradually.”

You scrunched your nose in slight annoyance, realizing that she had completely glossed over the mention of your family and the distance between them. “My mother said the same thing.”

“She is an honest woman. Perhaps she is right and you are just stubborn.”

Now wanting to end the conversation, you stuffed a cookie into your mouth so she would be forced to continue speaking without your input. She instructed another servant to pour you a cup of tea that had just finished heating.

“Who knows, dear? He could turn out to be more wonderful than you expected.”

Clearing your throat, you brushed your hands off on a nearby napkin and carefully handled the tea, standing from the table with a slight frown on your face. 

“One can only hope,” you said, bidding the midnight staff goodbye. “Please tell Hernando that I will miss his cooking.”

The cookies had relieved you of some of your building stress and the tea was also aiding in your recovery, but they quickly digested and sat in your half-empty stomach. You took long glances at the walls of the hallway adorned with family portraits, random maps, and lifesize sculptures leaning against them. You were saying goodbye in your own way, the only way possible, and it felt somewhat nostalgic - so quiet and yours. 

There was a strong possibility that you would return, but for some reason there was a need to say goodbye. Because if you never did return, you knew it wouldn’t be by your own choice.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments! It truly means a lot. -Moni xx

[koko-bopp]

Flirty Criminal — song mingi

criminal!song mingi X detective!male!reader

Part 3

word count – 4.5K

genre – Mature | Criminal/Cop!au

warning(s) – SMUT, a lil angsty, minor degrading, window sex, slight humiliation, passionate sex

Synopsis – “[Y/N] [L/N] is known famously around his police precinct as the detective that the infamous criminal Song Mingi has a crush on. The detective denies these claims, though Mingi gets into as much trouble as possible just to see him.”

"Fancy seeing you here, detective," Mingi chuckled, immediately noticing you from the colour of your hair.

He didn't expect you to be at his bar, let alone anywhere near his territory after your failed... Date? And it wasn't liked you lived anywhere near his bar, he was on the southside of the city, rich cops with rich lawyer husbands don't drop buy just for a drink.

You hadn't responded to him, and being ignored isn't exactly something Mingi appreciates, "Detective." He frowned, being close enough so you could see him from the corner of your eye. He stood beside you, putting his hands in his pockets of his expensive jeans before noticing something. "[Y/N]... Are you crying?"

Fuck if you knew, you'd been at Mingi's bar for almost an hour, ordered a whiskey but didn't even drink it because you knew what would happen if you did. You'd just been shedding tears, to the point where the bartender called Mingi to see if this was someone he knew.

He does.

"Hey, hey," Mingi repeated to catch your attention. You didn't respond, so he quickly looked over at the bartender, clicking his fingers to him then the door, giving an order for the man to leave.

He did, and now it was just the two of you in the he establishment, Mingi now sitting down at the stool next to yours, "Hey, what happened?"

And you just... You just kissed him.

It wasn't even a kiss, you moulded your lips on his like they were made for each other, pulling him by the necklace that sat neatly around his neck so you could bring him much closer. You parted your lips slightly just so you could get every part of Mingi that you wanted.

He stood up form his seat, turning you around so your back was now against the bench while you were still sitting down, Mingi in between your legs as he gently cupped your face with his hands. He didn't stop the kiss once, both your eyes closed as the moment was just something for the two of you to enjoy. Thousands of fireworks that you were once convinced were dormant now lit aflame.

God, Mingi wanted this for so long. He had a crush on you ever since you tried to arrest him for the first time; you were so dedicated and did your best to sympathize, only for you to threaten him when you couldn't deal with his flirty antics.

"[Y/N]–" He tried to interrupt, but you didn't stop immediately, so he pulled away, holding your cheeks, "–[Y/N], what happened?"

You sniffled, taking in a deep breath as more tears threatened to spill, "He... I–" It was fustrating you, bearly able to form words without crying, "I found him with my partner... In our bed. I was working the n-night shift and–"

Mingi lifted your chin up so you could look at him directly, soft eyes locked with your glossy ones, "Shhh, it's okay, I'll kill the bastard–"

You shook your head, "I never loved him, it won't do anything if you did... I just never though m-my partner would betray me like that..." You gripped onto Mingi's dress shirt, barely able to continue your sentences.

He'll kill the other bastard then.

Mingi took a deep breath, "It's okay. I've got you." He softly traced your skin with his thumb, praying that it would bring some kind of comfort. Watching the detective who was always so strong break down in front of him was worse than anything he'd been accused of. "Why you so far out here then? Don't you have friends you can lean onto back at the north?"

You shook your head, "I wanted to see you. I... I always wanted you, it's just, you know my job I'm supposed to hate you and it's midnight, I didn't want to see anyone else."

Mingi smiled. If that confession didn't provide his stomach with half a million butterflies, then it must be some other medical issue. He bought his thumb down to the bottom of your lip, dragging it down as he stared at his actions, "Do you want me as much as I want you, Detective?"

You nodded, not thinking twice. It was enough for Mingi to place his hand on your thigh and give it a firm squeeze. He watched you gasp underneath his touch, your muscle tensing in lust. "Yes, god, yes."

Mingi traced lines over the material of your jeans, his fingers moving to your inner thigh, "Detective, you're all mine tonight, understood?" The way you melted at his words were too much for him, he was so tempted just to ruin whatever nobility that badge you carried yourself with provided, you were falling in the grasp of Song Mingi, that should be punishment enough. He traced a line down from the centre of your v-line and over your crotch, watching you squirm at his touch was enough for his pants to tighten around him. "It's only my name you think of tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, sir~"

Fuck, that was it. He lifted you off the stool, his hands gripping your ass as you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a soft moan. His mouth latching onto yours as you two aggressively joined lips. Tongue on tongue, lips on lips, breathing inconsistent and your hands held the sides of Mingi's jaw while he carried you to the upstairs of his bar.

"Where... Where are we going?" You asked, eyes half lidded before kissing him back hard.

"Trust me." He pushed you against one of the doors, your bodies flush together with your legs wrapped around his hips as he grinded into you.

"Mingi," You moaned, throwing your head back against the door as you moaned his name. Your hips involuntarily bucked into him. He didn't waste any time to move down to kiss your neck, scraping teeth and a warm tongue across his fresh canvas, placing rough kisses across it as well. Hearing you moan and sigh and try to hold back your desperation was all he wanted. "Mingi... Please..."

"You should know best that anything you tell me will be used against you, Detective," he snickered lowly, feeling you arch your back when he bit down on the spot he was looking for, "I won't forget you begging and moaning my name like a pretty whore."

It earned a small smile on your face. Degrading, but he was also behaving just as loving as he was at the restaurant.

He opened the door, holding onto you tight so you didn't fall, but immediately dropped you on the huge bed by the window.

The light coming from outside reflecting onto you made you look so irresistible to the point he felt himself get hard. Your shirt was now wrinkled and messy and raised slightly to expose your torso, your neck had evident bite marks. You looked like a meal. And Mingi was a victim of famine.

You couldn't help but grow a little prideful at the way he was staring at you, hence why you raised your hands up to drag the shirt higher, stopping at the top buttons as you began to undo them, watching Mingi crawl over on the bed. "I'm all yours, " You whimpered.

Mingi gripped your wrist firmly at the fifth button, though, making you confused in the slightest. He spoke softly, like how a police officer would confront a victim; "I don't know how much I'll be able to back when you look like this," he said, licking his lips. He dragged his gaze all the way to your bulge before dragging it back up to your eyes, "But I want you to scream 'gun' if you ever need me to stop. Do you understand?"

He was definitely more in love with you than you assumed. He was being so considerate and genuinely had your safety as his top priority.

You nodded immediately, pulling him down and bucking your hips up, "I want you, Mingi. Please, you have me~"

Mingi chuckled, bringing his hand up to grip your jaw, "Such an impatient baby. Imagine someone finding out how submissive the honourable Detective is for the man he's trying to put away." He used his other hand to unbutton the remainder of your shirt, even popping the one on your jeans. He watched you close your thighs in embarrassment. Because he was right; you withered under his every touch, not something you're entirely used to. Mingi teasingly palmed your crotch, watching you whimper as he did, "Already hard now, Detective?"

He made you work for it, from taking his cock in your mouth to leaving red and purple hues along your neck, chest and thighs. The scratches you left on his back are bright red and will be a reminder of everything when they sting in the shower. The way he held you, the way he spoke and was both with selflessness and authority. His main emphasis was to make sure you were only focusing on him, not wanting you to have to worry about everything that occurred in the last eight hours.

But fuck, the way you would shiver and jerk every time he touched a sensitive spot, now knowing that your thighs will give in if he kisses them. The way you moan his name like a prayer, the way you practically scream it when you're so close to cumming. You would chuckle when he kisses your nose and upper lip, groan and grunt when he was deep inside you. Fuck, all this was worth the wait. He did his waiting, and now you wanted him too.

Though right now, he had you against the window, your chest against the cold glass as your hot breath was fogging a small part of it. Mingi was flush against your back, thrusting in and out at a simple pace; hearing you beg was beyond attractive, pleading with him to move faster as your hands were firm on the glass and your cock dripping with pre-cum. Hickeys littered literally everywhere on your body, Ming creating more with the way he was trailing kisses down your neck.

"Please, please, Mingi–!" You groaned as he bit down on your shoulder, accidentally jerking forward when he thrust forward particularity hard so his cock hit your prostate. "Please, I'm so close–"

"You already came twice, Detective," He snickered, "Such a needy slut."

He picked up his pace with his thrusts, gripping one of your hips and locking his fingers with yours on the glass with his other hand. He kissed the back of your neck when you couldn't stop your head from dropping from the sudden fast thrusts, "Ah–! Fuck, I'm gonna–" You moaned loudly, "Mingi-! I'm gonna cum–!"

Mingi didn't have time to respond, you released on the window and grinded back against him so he could as well. Your throat was dry from all the screaming and moaning, you could only whimper and whine as all the white leaked from your tip. Mingi slowed down his thrusts, knowing you're way too sensitive to overstimulate any further, "So impatient~"

He came not long after, groaning your name as he did before pulling out when he was done, removing the condom and disregarding it in the trash can. He smiled at you softly as you were lying on your back now on the bed, grinning back at him. "That... That was amazing."

You never actually thought you'd have sex with Song Mingi, let alone for three rounds in the one night.

He made sure you were comfortable and kept his word when he was making sure it was only him you were thinking about.

Mingi bent down to kiss your lips, softly, bringing the thin blanket over you just because he thought it was a good idea. You kissed him back, bringing your hand up to touch his cheek before pulling away gently.

He caressed the hand that was on his cheek, thinking about how thrilled he was that you're actually with him right now, "Do you... Do you want to spend the night? With me?"

You nodded, grinning brightly, "As long as we cuddle."

"What's going to happen in the morning? Will you continue your aim to throw me into jail, Detective?" Mingi asked, looking a little saddened.

"After all this?" You giggled, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. You frowned a little though, your smile disappearing, "You know... If they even think we're seeing each other, I can get into a lot of trouble."

Mingi continued to caress your hand, taking a moment to think, "I'll figure something out. Or maybe ill just get into more trouble so I can see you."

You laughed, shaking your head. He was something else. You pulled him down so you had your head buried in his neck, gently kissing the skin as you placed an arm over his torso. "Just.. Hold me for a bit. I just want you right now."

He did so with content. Holding you close, happy knowing that the feeling was mutual.

"Detective." The Chief had called you into the office. He was expecting something, from the way he crossed his arms and the fact that there was a clear case file sitting on his desk about the man you slept. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Wayne Haulting was a friend of yours, but when he's serious. He's serious. You nodded at him though, "He believes it. My husband is in Chicago well away from here, he doesn't exactly know about the plan, but Song Mingi believed it all."

"You slept with him?"

"Best sex of my life." You chuckled, crossing your arms, "However, I'm Sargent [Y/N], throwing criminals into jail is my job. Mingi thinks I'm in love with him, so it shouldn't be long before he trusts me enough to reveal a few things."

Haulting nodded in approval. "I guess I should congratulate you then. Is it safe to say you have Mingi wrapped around your finger?"

You nodded. You may like him, but the city needs Song Mingi in jail, and that's what you were going to do.

[senjuushi]

General headcanons for the new gun boys?

OwO I’ve had this ask waiting for a while, but.... here we go! Time for a little infodump of things I’ve thought of~ There are only a few that I can say are “general”, but I’ll try to go into detail!

Marks

• I... don’t have too many headcanons for him yet, aside from the fact that I’ll forever be calling this cutie “abuse bait”. So instead of a headcanon, y’all get a bit of character analysis. Marks is the only one of the moderns to have “Master” in his likes section. Even freaking Mauser doesn’t have “Ashley” there. This implies a level of attachment from this boy that’s both terrifying and so, so sweet. Marks is baby. He’s a good, good boy, and that trust and open adoration he has makes it so easy to abuse him... He really is abuse bait... 

• But to try for a headcanon, well, here’s a simple one. Marks would do anything to please his Master. He’s a pushover. If he was attached enough to them (which he obviously is), they could tell him to lick their shoes and he’d barely hesitate. Master is his world, and all he wants is for them to be happy, so with a little convincing and manipulating... what does a good gun like Marks need with things like pride? His line about ‘wanting to be used by his Master’s hand” also makes me think that he’d seriously crave physical intimacy, which would be yet another manipulation point for him. 

Like Two

• Despite his more abrasive nature and apparent dislike for his brothers, Like Two is a lot more like his equally-pink counterpart than either of them really want to think about. This is pretty obvious with the whole “muscle/strength training” thing that the two of them seem to be fond of, but it goes much deeper. Like Two tries to seem like he’s a tough, capable weapon who will tell anyone who tries to baby or look down on him to fuck off...

But the reality is that he has the same streak for wanting to be spoiled. And the same feminine tendencies. To put it simply, if you whispered in his ear that he’s your precious little princess, Like Two would blush and melt just the same as LIke2 would... he’d just be a lot more angry about it. And a lot more intent on trying to deny that his face is crimson and he can barely talk properly. 

Arisaka

• I’ve said this one before, but his childlike body is the result of both trauma and the gun equivalent of failure to thrive. Arisaka is a Japanese gun who was used in WW2... he’s seen some shit. Not good stuff. And those things kind of fucked him up. I mean, we all can see how dead inside he looks. Just imagine how much trauma is lurking beneath the surface of those empty eyes. 

Another point in favor of this is that, almost without fail, gun size corresponds to physical maturity in the boys. Smaller guns usually look more like children, while larger guns are more adult-like. Arisaka is the only one that I can think of who has a large gun but still looks so youthful. Between that and his extremely disturbing history, I headcanon that his human body is between 18-20 years old... just extremely stunted. He’s short, scrawny, and immature-looking because he was so traumatized as a weapon that he, like human children who suffer extreme circumstances, couldn’t grow and mature properly. 

Herme

• My prevailing headcanon for Herme is that he has some serious identity issues. Namely, in his profile... he talks about how he and the other gun boys are exactly that-- guns. They’re made of metal, and there’s no need to treat them like humans. This clearly shows a disconnect between his human self and his existence as a weapon, but it also clashes with how he talks about his life’s history and family in much the same way that a human would. The way I see it, he’s got some strong conflict between a deeply-rooted view that he’s nothing but a gun and the innate humanity that he clearly can’t fully suppress. 

• I’m probably going to have to fight canon on this one, but because of Herme’s polite, respectable, useful personality and his issues with seeing himself as anything but a tool, I’m firmly believing that he’s very submissive to his Master. Anyone who’s not Master? They get a capable, arrogant man who won’t hesitate to put those beneath him in his place. His Master? (Or perhaps even humans in general?) They get a polite, respectful, obedient tool who fulfills every order to the best of his ability-- no matter if it hurts him. There’s a war in this man between being a weapon and his own ego, and the side of him that knows to be good is winning. 

Springfield

• It’s barely even a headcanon at this point, but I see him as very physically weak and fragile. This covers the obvious (frail health, weak body, constant fatigue and bouts of illness), of course, but it also extends to other things. To give a ridiculously specific example, I see this Springy as having very, very sensitive skin. As in, he bruises easily and badly, it's easy to break his skin, even light scratches leave temporary marks, and he's overall very sensitive to touch. There’s also the possibility that he has scarring/damage to his human body because of what we can see on his gun... and those areas might be even more delicate than the rest of him. 

• Another one that I’ll probably have to fight canon over, but I strongly doubt that other moderns would like him very well. He’s not a real modern gun. He’s just an antique who’s trying too hard. He’s weak and useless anyway, so it would be an embarrassment to even consider him to be one. Those things would be in Springfield’s head at the very least... and it’s likely that some of them would have been used against him too. 

Siegblut

• Honestly, most of what I’m getting from him so far is that the core of his personality is overcompensation. I mean, the whore has big shoes to fill. He’s Herme’s successor. That’s a lot to live up to. Siegblut (ha, I used his actual name for once) probably has a ton of issues when it comes to wanting to be something he’s not. So what if his whole deal is being good enough? It would explain why he’s trying so hard to look like a tough guy. 

• And on that note... he’s a fucking housewife. I will take no argument. And I’m not sure if he hides that kind of thing yet... but just imagine how cute it would be to tease him over how domestic he can be. Maybe if he likes homemaking so much, you should just take him off the battlefield and make him your wife, hm? It might suit him better than trying to live up to Herme like he has been for so long. He’s just way too easy to bully lmao. 

[velvetsehun]

Born To Die| OSH | 02

Pairing: Oh Sehun x Reader Genre: Mafia!Sehun Rating: 18+ Warnings: violence, gun use, mature language, smut (in future chapters), slow burn(?) Words: 14.6k Summary: a collusions of worlds is supposed to kill, but what if it can do something else?

A/N: woah this took a lot out of me but she’s here! chapter two!! Get a snack, buckled in, this is gonna be a long one! I hope you all enjoy, and if you have any feedback or wanna chat about the story just drop into my inbox! happy reading~ TW// Warning this part contains some material that might be sensitive to readers as it depicts scenes of intense violence and gun use, discretion is advised. Masterlist | Next

“STOP HER”

Resonated through the estate as you booked it out the gates and into the night, your heart drumming wildly in your chest, drowning the sounds out of your ears, so much so you didn’t even flinch when another round was fired your way, your hands grasping onto Baekhyun’s gun for dear life as you ran down the road near the estate.

The moon was spreading her pale yellow light across the roads and the dense forests surrounding it, making the landscape look almost ethereal to the eye – or so it would be if you weren’t distracted by the fact your ankles felt like they were going to snap running in a pair of heeled boots any second. Bolting out of the house and into the open certainly didn’t feel like the best idea anymore, you were glancing over your shoulder as you sprinted – the large house you were kept in merely a picture in the distance and you ran as fast as you could away from the place, and with your body giving up on you, like everything that fuelled you with every passed with each step, fading pathetically, you would have been happy to be free, if you didn’t see hear the sounds of yelling in the night and car headlines start to peak over the darkness.

The road to the house was as expected; empty, nothing there, secluded from everyone, and while that might have worked for the aesthetic of keeping the house a secret it wasn’t working in your favour. Like a nerve, you were exposed running along the straight road, the cars, if they were going as fast as you thought, were going to catch up with you soon. Stopping to take a breath was dangerous, but you needed to if you didn’t want to pass out any time soon. Deterring from the road to a tree that marked the start of the forest, you felt like wheezing your lungs out as you doubled over.

“I’m so fucking out of shape,” You thought to yourself as you held onto your own knees with a cough, your lungs and limbs were burning from the battering you had taken – and while you managed to get a good distance away from the house before you forced yourself into cardiac arrest you knew it was just a pipe dream to think you could take it easy. You were still too close to the house for comfort, if it was in sight it was dangerous – the guard that caught you didn’t exactly see what way you went but you knew that they probably had enough resources on hand to cover this area, glancing at the watch on your wrist you winced at the time; 4:58 am. You had been running for about 20 minutes, and that meant you were still close to the house, Sehun’s men had cars – and a lot of them, you had to keep moving.

“Keeping on the road is too dangerous,” You thought, looking around at everything, you were concealed by trees for the most part right now, looking out at the dull tarmac, your back leaning against a tree, “I also don’t have any clue where I am, or what direction to go in” Your hand was still grasping the gun you stole very tight, your knuckles burning with the severity of the hold. Being honest, this was the dumbest idea you’d ever came up with, you weren’t equipped mentally or physically for a breakout and chase in the middle of the night – you weren’t even equipped to find the will power to make it into work every day.

“Not that it matters now,” You thought with a sigh, “My job is as good is gone” 

The sun wasn’t coming up for another couple of hours, the bite in the air telling you winter was still here, not like it would have left the couple hours you were kidnapped; you were out in the cold without any form of warm clothing, covered in scrapes, bruises and cuts, and dizzy from drugs, being out here wasn’t going to be kind to your body if you kept still. But honestly, looking at the house in the distance, you wanted to just walk back and face what you did, even if it meant leaving with a bullet between your eyes.

“I am not dying here.” The words you spoke to Baekhyun as you robbed him blind echoed in your head as your eyes kept flickering around, thinking of giving up felt nice, the idea walking back to it all felt nice – but after everything you have done, you knew that you had to keep going, even if you felt like a giant idiot, you said yourself. “I am not dying here.” You nodded still out of breath, looking at the watch again; 5:00 am. Taking the road was asking for your death quicker, and while you weren’t the biggest fan of the dark you looked with a grimace behind you.

“Forest it is then…” You thought with a shiver, it was a dense forest with large spruces packed together but it was your only option. Your boots weren’t meant for running or hiking through forests but you took a hesitant step into the trees, the moonlight being blocked out by the foliage, with tendrils of it only peeking through at some points – it was too dark to see but you could hear the rumble of an engine getting closer with bated breath and a burn of your legs you jogged into the dark, but possible, death trap.

“I hope Baekhyun is one of the people with a flashlight on his keys…”

Sehun wondered if it was possible to die from being close to someone else’s stupidity as he sat at his desk and stared down the one person who caused all this. His two brothers from earlier had scattered as soon as he demanded that he found their stray, their eyes wide as they pulled out their phones, yelling orders out instantly.

“At least they know how to do their job,” He thought with a giant sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, a small gesture to try and bring himself back to reality, “Let’s hope they do it right.” 

“So,” Sehun started with a deep grumble of his chest, his hand clutching onto his empty glass, “Run me past what happened exactly?”

Baekhyun looked in simple terms, pathetic, sitting in the chair in front of Sehun’s desk holding an icepack to his head while Jongdae tried to clean him up the best he could. His temple was badly bruised, the discolouration spreading to the skin around his eye as everything inflamed in a mess of blood.

“Well…” Baekhyun began, flinching as Jongdae moved his icepack to dap a cotton swab on the offending cut, “She sprung out of nowhere and she got me”

“She got you?” Sehun raised his eyebrows, holding his glass out to some underman he didn’t know the name of, an amber liquid soon returning to the glass, “With what exactly?” He pressed, annoyed.  

“A paperweight,” Baekhyun mumbled so low Sehun couldn’t hear, but Jongdae did – his shoulders jumping with a snigger as he kept cleaning his brother up. Baekhyun’s eyes flickering to his laughing friend with a glare that made him screw his face up in pain.

“A what?” Sehun wanted to hear him say it, Chanyeol had already told him but he wanted to hear it from the devil’s mouth, “Speak up Baekhyun.”

“A paperweight.” He hissed, annoyed, “A fucking crystal paperweight, do you need me to yell it from the top of the damn house?” He swiped Jongdae’s hands away as the man stood back to look at Sehun with a smug smile directed at his brother.

“So, you’re telling me,” Sehun started calmly, placing his glass down on the desk after taking a long sip, his eyes never leaving Baekhyun, “A drugged girl managed to get you with a paperweight after hiding from you in a tiny room that has no closets or bathrooms?” Baekhyun kept quiet as Sehun stood from his desk, the annoyed man tossing his suit jacket off with a huff.

“She then managed to get out of the room she proceeded to lock you in” He ranted gesturing to Baekhyun before turning to Jongdae, “Got down two flights of stairs in a house riddled with mafia members and out the fucking door and front gate?” He looked at the two of them with a fire in his eyes, Jongdae still looked at amused at the situation, knowing full well she got past him too, but it died down a little looking at his boss.

“What do the two of you have to say for yourselves?” Sehun raised his voice, slamming his hands on the desk, the glass on it jumped with the force – a slosh of liquid spilling out.

“Uh.” Jongdae started with a timid smile, “She also robbed Baekhyun.”

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife but that statement tossed everything up in the air as the two other males tossed their hands up in the air with a shout of his name, Baekhyun looking particularly pissed, that wasn’t something their boss was supposed to know.

“Jongdae.” Baekhyun hissed, reaching out to swipe at the man.

“She did what?” Sehun hissed, getting angrier at the girl and Baekhyun.

“She uh…” Baekhyun started but Jongdae quickly cut him off.

“After she got him,” He started, “She robbed him, took his watch, keys for the compound, his cash” His eyes flicked to Baekhyun who was looking down, “His gun… But left his wallet with his cards and his phone” He looked at Sehun who was staring holes into Baekhyun.

“So, you’re telling me that she shot out the window of my car, with YOUR gun?” Sehun snapped at Baekhyun, the latter merely nodding at the statement, “You’re also telling me we have a random girl on the loose who’s carrying around your 50-calibre eagle and the keys to the place?” Baekhyun looked like he wanted to die on the spot as Sehun kept going.

“The same gun you used to help shoot up a bar 7 hours prior, the one that has our gangs’ symbol on it and your fingerprints, along with the keys to get into this place?” Sehun was shouting now, with good reason, “You do realise that if she gets to anyone that can call the police we’re fucked right? You know this much?” Jongdae and Baekhyun flinched.

“Her face isn’t over the news yet as missing, but I’m guessing it will be soon,” Sehun was still ranting, swiping his hand over his face in frustration, “How could you be so stupid?”

“Jongdae buzzed me before I went up and told me that she was still out!” Baekhyun defended, “I didn’t exactly think she’d be up and kicking when I got there, that’s why I didn’t take Chanyeol.” Jongdae looked offended.

“Don’t blame this on me, You’re the one who let her hide behind a door and didn’t check the room before you started toying with her” Jongdae argued back.  

“I don’t care who you want to blame this on,” Sehun snapped at them before downing his drink, “Our bargaining chip is missing and you two are to blame.”

“Shouldn’t Kyungsoo have been keeping an eye on the cameras?” Baekhyun mumbled slouching in his chair, clearly exhausted.

“Don’t blame this on me.” A new voice entered the room, Do Kyungsoo sauntering into the room like nothing bad was happening, holding a laptop in his hand with a blank look, “I wasn’t the that got taken out with a paperweight.”

“What were you doing then?” Baekhyun glared at him as Kyungsoo nodded at his aggravated boss, looking at the room with a sigh before placing the open laptop on the desk, ignoring him.

“Security footage from the last hour and a half,” Kyungsoo started, “It’s going to just annoy you watching it, but here you go.”

Sehun just shook his head as he pressed the play button, the rest of his brothers leaning in to watch what was going on. It was a short piece of footage as Kyungsoo had taken the liberty to speed it up for them, but the annoyance didn’t leave Sehun’s body as he watched the girl walk out of the room and make her way down the hallway, Baekhyun’s gun clearly in her hand. The camera switched to the POV of her walking back towards the stairs, looking at what he knew was his men’s rooms, before descending them. The camera switched again to a view of Jongdae and Minseok talking not too far from the stairs, a blur of her being seen passing just by them in plain sight, and it was at that point Sehun had enough – his hand swiping out to slam the electronic shut with force.

“The two of you are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met,” Sehun hissed, falling back into his chair with a grunt, “You better hope she’s found, or it's your heads being given to the police.” He threatened them, glaring.

“I stand by what I said,” Baekhyun began, as Jongdae resumed cleaning his open wound, “Why wasn’t Soo watching the camera’s?” Hissing as rubbing alcohol was used to clean it out.

“I was cleaning up the mess you left at the bar,” The man in question deadpanned annoyed he was being blamed for this, “Plus I had to drop Yixing off at the drop off point for a trade.”

“I gave Kyungsoo a job to do,” Sehun cut in, signalling for another drink, “Yixing is off getting some information on the sort of trade’s Byung-Chul was doing with our money, Kyungsoo was taking him to the drop off point and staking out for a bit”

“I got back to hearing you got outnumbered by a paperweight and Minseok dying in the foyer with laughter,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, sitting on the armrest of the empty chair next to Baekhyun, “What’s being done about the girl?” He turned his attention to his boss who was looking at the wall with a look on his face.

“Chanyeol and Junmyeon took Jongin to brief some of the men,” He started before taking a long drink, “They’re searching in the area in cars and on foot, she won’t have got far”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Jongdae hummed, his now gloved hands threading a needle much to Baekhyun’s horror, “As much as I hate to admit it, what she did was impressive, she left anything we could track her with, even got away with a decent amount of his money” Jongdae smirked at Baekhyun who huffed.

“Impressively stupid,” Kyungsoo droned, “She got out but now what? She’s got a gang of people hunting her, and all she has is a gun she can’t use.”

“At least she turned the safety off this time,” Baekhyun laughed, but he was quickly shut up as Jongdae flicked his wound, his eyes watering as he yelped. The eyes in the room were glaring at him.

“We’ll wait for an update,” Sehun glared at Baekhyun, “Until then, Jongdae consider stitching his mouth up too.”

“On it, boss,” The latter laughed, handing his makeshift patient a towel.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Baekhyun looked at him and the needle.

“Bite on it,” Jongdae smirked, “Medical bay was out of anaesthetic” Baekhyun paled and silenced but it soon was replaced by the sound of his muffled cries and swears as Jongdae got to work.

“It’s going to be a long day,” Sehun thought, downing another drink, “A very long day”

You joked about Baekhyun having a flashlight on his keys but after a few minutes of walking in the forest you checked out of curiosity, the heavy carabiner that rattled in your pocket had a plethora of things on it; about a dozen keys in all shapes were in order by numbers, a pocket knife handy tool, a mini flashlight, and a key fob that looked like it got you into an apartment - you breathed a sigh of relief as you clicked the small handheld flashlight on. The forest was pitch black the more you walked into it, trying to walk along with the direction of the road and not further into the abyss but navigating in the dark was hard, the flashlight only took the edge off minorly– the unknowing and knowing what was out there prickled your skin up more than the cold did.

You had not a single clue where you were; you knew you were out of the city deep into the desolate lands that surround it, but it didn’t tell you much about the space – the forest was thick, the roads silent and there didn’t seem to be any neighbouring houses to the place you’d gotten out of, you were at this point playing Bear Grylls out here. 

“Stay calm,” You affirmed yourself, taking deep breaths to keep your heart regular, the running done a number on you, “Let’s hope whoever is following you think’s that you’re dumb enough to stay on the roads,” You began in your head looking around, “And not dumb enough to walk into thick woodland areas with no idea where you are going...”

 Baekhyun’s gun was tucked into your apron, your hand now being occupied by the hand knife you’d pried from the carabiner – for the second time this morning you felt like you were in survival game are you divided your attention on looking at the muddy floor and looking at this multi-tool Baekhyun thought was a good idea to keep on his keys. It was expensive, and so far you’d only flipped the knife out, but you were still trying to work the thing out – it was pointless trying to play with the thing, but it was a distraction from the fact that you could die anything in these damn woods. 

“I wonder if he’s woken up yet?” You pondered to yourself fiddling with the knife, you strayed a little off the path you set but it wasn’t too bad, you knew you just had to run to the left to get back to the road, but it was still quiet, no cars had pass yet, “I hope he’s not too mad I stole his stuff,” You chuckled, flipping another smaller knife up, “Who am I kidding he will slaughter me if Sehun doesn’t get his hands on me first.”  

You stopped in the middle of a small clearing in the forest, the plants probably looked beautiful during the day looked like spindled figures swaying hauntingly in the dark as you glanced around, shining your light on anything that looked out of place – you had stopped for a second to ease the burning in the legs, from the running to hiking through woodland areas that were uneven ground in heels was not kind on your body, but frankly, none of this was. Your body felt disgusting, sluggish, sore and battered by the last 7 hours – it truly was not your calling to be at a part of whatever life this was, or whatever life Byung-Chul had tossed you into unknowingly, you knew that much.  

“What would have happened if I stayed?” You wondered as you limped to a nearby stump, the glass that was still stuck in your knees was getting bothersome, and frankly it looked horrifying as you shined your light on it, using your nails to try as get some bigger pieces out, “I’d either be dead, tortured, or maybe by some miracle id be safe.” You winced, gritting your teeth as you pulled a piece out, “The last one seems unlikely, but it would be better than sitting in the fucking woods playing doctor to myself.” 

Your knees looked disgusting; you had glass in your knees and hands, the latter of which that was caked with no only Jaewoo’s blood but Baekhyun’s and your own, your stomach feel like it had cotton stuffed into it and your head thumped like a drum – your body was exhausted but here you were, sitting on a tree stump with nothing but a tiny flashlight to guide the way. 

You had cried earlier when you thought Sehun was coming for you, and you maybe let a few tears shed as you run for your dear life from the house but now? You strangely felt detached from the situation, Byung-Chul had got mixed up with gang business – the clues were pointing to it, but you didn’t watch the news often so whoever they were was a guess to you, and the realisation that you’d tried to shoot a powerful gang member and knocked another out was something that no one would ever believe you did, but here you were, sitting like a rock waiting to feel something.  

“I think I’m broken,” You sighed to yourself out loud, it was the first time you’d spoken in a while and your throat still felt like shit, “I’ll add dehydration to the list of things I have to deal with.” You chuckled to yourself.  

“I’m losing it,” You dragged your grubby hands over your face, ignoring the pain from pushing glass further into your skin, “I’m talking to myself in the woods, armed with a gang member stolen good and a body that’s ready to crumble.” You spoke into your hands, 

“I hope I freeze to death out here, put me out of my misery.” You begged to no one.  It felt like you went into a trance as you clicked the light off to save battery, not knowing how long you’d be out here, staring out into the dark was calming now – the cold wind and whistles from the weather feeling like you were in another dimension, but that could also be the drugs finally wearing off, god knows maybe that was what pushed you to act like this. You feared the dark for the right reason; you didn’t know what lurked in the inky depths of it, your apartment was on a rougher side of the city – something out of a shitty aesthetic blog, you didn’t live the high life but you got by. 

“I wonder if anyone is looking for me?” Your mind rattled, the police had been to the bar as you heard earlier, “Or do they think I’m one of the bodies at the bar, head blown apart?” It was a scary thought, but not as scary as light started to bleed through the trees.  

“Shit,” You leapt up with a grit of your teeth, “Someone is coming” You scuttled around slightly before stepping over the stump you were sitting on, grabbing everything you dropped onto it and ran behind a bigger tree, crouching down with a bite of your tongue as the protest in your knees. 

The gun was gripped in your hands again, quickly clicking off the safety as you peaked at the clearing that wasn’t too far from the tree. Voices were filling the area. 

“So far nothing east of the house,” The voice got closer, you held your breath and tried to move as little as possible as a bigger light filled the clearing, “If she went this direction she might have known this was taking you north into the city, Yeol.” It was two armed men, you didn’t recognise either of them, they weren’t at the bar earlier. 

“North…” You thought lowering your head taking in the information, “The city is north...”

“I don’t care if she isn’t there, Jongin” A deep voice filled the clearing from the small speaker, now he sounded familiar, he sounded like that guy that was with Sehun at the bar, “Just keep walking, Jun and I are driving into the city to see if she’s gone back to the bar” He sounded stressed, rightly so, this Jongin guy had stopped now listening to the call, “Baekhyun is awake and talking, Sehun just called, keep going north then circle back” 

“And what if Minseok and I still find nothing?” He rolled his eyes. He was gorgeous too so was his companion, “Do we rendezvous back at the compound or?”  Minseok hadn’t spoken but he was looking around the clearing with a sharp eye. 

“Why is everyone in this fucking gang hot as fuck?”You seethed to yourself, “I’m being hunted by a hoard of hot men.”

 “Jongin…” Minseok slapped his shoulder, the latter looking annoyed with whoever this Yeol was, “Do you see that?” He shined the light on the stump you had been sitting on.

“Circle back,” Yeol was speaking but Jongin wasn’t listening, his eyes training on whatever Minseok was looking at, “There’s a rest stop just North West of the house, you won’t be too far from it”  

“One second, Yeol…” Jongin he interrupted him, “Minseok, shine that light there.”  You pressed your back into the tree as light flooded into your peripheral vision, trying to look as small as possible, the strong floodlight torch made it look like daylight in the clearing – which terrified you. They just at to look a little harder and they’d see you, the gun pressed into your stomach, ready-to-use if you needed to.  

“Is that glass?” Minseok quizzed, the sound of him coming closer frightened you, “Jongin it's bloody glass.” You didn’t peak around and look; you hoped the big tree covered you.  

“Chanyeol?” Jongin sounded confused, “Did the target have any glass in or on her?” The sentence sounded ridiculous, but your heart was hammering too hard right now to appreciate the situation.  

“Glass?” Chanyeol perked up, “Yes, yes she did!” He practically yelled down the phone, you imagined the pair jumped at the intensity, “Baekhyun dragged her through glass, she will be riddled with the stuff!” He sounded very cheery at your demise.  

“Bastard.” You shut your eyes, praying to whatever was out there that they’d take the accidental bait and leave. 

“So, she’s gone this way?” Minseok asked, “Do you think she’s still around?” He asked the light rushed to one side, the opposite of where you were.  

“Doubt it,” Jongin said, Chanyeol was still yelling down the phone, “She got a head start on us” 

“She’s also injured,” Minseok tutted, no one was listening to what Chanyeol was saying, “She can’t have got far.”  

“Guess we’ll see…” Jongin sighed, “This better be worth it, Chanyeol” He directed the conversation to their friend. 

“No,” Chanyeol started, “This is great it means she’s still in the area, keep heading North, Minseok is right she won’t have got far” He faded out for a second, talking to someone else, “Jun and I are going to let Sehun know, keep looking, we’re almost at the bar – we’re going to get whatever she’s left there.” 

“Why?” Jongin sounded confused again. “Just in case she makes it out of the woods and into the city,” He started, “She’s not going to have anything there, we’ll have someone stakeout just in case she shows.” He finished.

“You’re the boss,” Jongin sounded tired, “We’ll call you if we find anything.” He sighed.

“Good,” Chanyeol spoke to him, “Tell Soo to monitor the highway camera’s, if she’s lurking around it won’t be long till she’s found, I can feel it.” He sounded like he was giving a motivational speech. You merely rolled your eyes.  

“Sure thing, Yeol” Jongin chuckled at him, “Speak to you soon, tell the boss we said hi.” The sound of a click sounded; he’d hung up. You had to be silent now that Chanyeol wasn’t here to distract them. 

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” Minseok mumbled, “Bastard yelled the whole house done from the moment she went missing.” 

“Understandable,” Jongin sounded like he was walking around now, the crunch of the leaves shattering under his feet, “Byung-Chul owes us a lot of money, she’s our bargaining chip right now and she’s on the run.” The light kept moving and you begged it didn’t come anywhere near you. 

“What idiot leaves evidence she was here?” Minseok spoke. 

“This fucking idiot that’s who,” You wanted to yell, your lip was raw from pulling on it with your teeth, a metallic taste filling your mouth, “Keep. Walking.”

“Give her credit, Min” Jongin chuckled, “She got past you and Jongdae just fine” He teased his companion. You could feel Minseok rolling his eyes. 

“Whatever,” The man mumbled annoyed, “Let’s just keep walking, god knows where she is now.” 

“I’m right here.” You rolled your eyes. 

There was a heavy beat of silence that filled the void as you watched the light fade from the place, spilling into the trees ahead of Jongin and Minseok as they retreated from clearing – taking their godly light with them. You fell slack against the tree as soon as you deemed it safe enough too, your body aching with the tension – your mind was trying to take in what happened just now. You weren’t sure if they had no faith in your escape skills if they didn’t bother to check the area or if they were useless. 

“Probably a bit of both,” You thought bitterly, as much as they scared the shit out of you because they had no clue you were listening to them you got some valuable information from them. “They’re walking North, they said there’s a rest stop North West that isn’t too far from here.” 

“If I stray off the path, I might make it to the rest stop” You spoke to yourself quietly standing up, they hadn’t left that long ago you were testing fate, “If I can make it to the rest stop I might get some help.” Baekhyun’s pocketknife had a tiny compass on the hilt of it. 

Right now, it was too dangerous to use the flashlight just in case you alerted your hunters, but you pulled it out anyway, screwing your eyes to look at the tiny thing. 

“North.” You thought pointing in the direction that the men went, “They weren’t lying”

You breathed a sigh of relief. North and North West had a big enough gap between them you felt somewhat comfortable walking the new path, you still couldn’t risk turning on the flashlight again just in case, but you could at least still try to get to the rest stop. It was your only hope, Chanyeol and whoever this Jun was had taken a car to the city which meant that it was far enough that walking would not get you there anytime soon. 

“Let’s hope someone there can help me” You sighed in your head

After getting off the phone with Jongin and Minseok, Chanyeol felt a tad better about the situation at hand, even with Junmyeon telling them they weren’t out of the woods yet till they found the girl. The tall red head felt better, regardless. The car to the bar was silent, the two of them not doing much talking because of stress and the fact that if they didn’t find or at least get a lead on the girl Sehun would have their heads along with Baekhyun’s for the taking, it was a tense ride, hell it was a tense couple of hours. The pair of them hadn’t called their boss yet, they’d had an update he was getting his way through a lovely bottle of single malt while Baekhyun howled the compound down at the hands of Dr. Jongdae. 

 “Is this girl worth it?” Chanyeol asked with a sigh, opting to break the suffering silence, Jun was at the wheel of the car, speeding through the city “I mean, I get Byung-Chul owes us a lot of money and stuff but really? Is the girl worth all this trouble?” Chanyeol ranted slightly. He much like everyone else in the compound wanted to go to sleep after the shootout, but that was hours ago, and this random girl had decided that it would not happen. 

“Franky, she’s not worth this chase at all,” Junmyeon started, sounding as aggravated as the rest of them, “But what Sehun says goes, even if it makes no sense and has all of us up at crackass of dawn looking for the most useless person in this whole scenario, no offense to the girl.” Chanyeol wanted to roll his eyes.

“Doesn’t Byung-Chul have a wife? Kids?” Chanyeol ranted, “Literally anything else? Why are we running around after a random bar worker?” 

“Listen Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sighed heavily, “Your guess is as good as mine, Sehun thinks the police and stuff pressuring and raiding Byung-Chul will open him up to talking to us, or at least giving us a chance to strike” His eyes flicked to the redhead, “I tried to reason with him but let’s be real, he’s desperate or at least his version of it–and as powerful as we are, Byung-Chul laundered a lot of cash from us and he’s used it elsewhere, that sorta stuff doesn’t just get dealt with.” 

“Still no one is telling me how this girl will make anything better,” Chanyeol huffed, “Can’t Soo or something hack into his accounts? Wire the money back?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t say it often but Chanyeol’s naivety was something he wished the tall man never lost, all of them had their own stories and their own backgrounds that brought them together, but Chanyeol was the last to join the 9 brothers, and as hardened of a gang member he had become over the years, his tall companion never lost that child in him. It was times like these he could see it clear as day how his past very much still ran with him, he’d grown up very different to Sehun, Yixing, Baekhyun and himself—he wasn’t born into a mafia family or tethered along with its antics. No, Chanyeol was another kind of member, much like Kyungsoo, this wasn’t their initial life, but fate had bent their hands to be here. While it was a breath of life in the repetitiveness of what they knew, it was also dangerous to not completely understand why you did things.

“It’s the principle, Yeol,” Junmyeon reminded him softly, if his own father had taught him anything it was that sometimes yelling about things would not make people listen, “Byung-Chul has wronged us, that isn’t something you let go easily, it makes you seem weak to others if you just forgive without retaliation” He glanced at him again, he was sulking in the passenger seat, “As for the girl, I get where Sehun is coming from–collateral damage even in the smallest amount can give you the upper hand, Byung-Chul doesn’t have the resources to just make this all go away, the police will interrogate and raid him, to them an innocent girl is missing and another worker is dead.”  

“I’ll never understand how your damn families do things,” Chanyeol sighed, “It’s always a rule or vague motto for something” He waved him off, Junmyeon merely smiled lightly but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“It’s been six years, Yeol” Junmyeon started, “You’ll get a hang of it, be thankful you didn’t have to grow up like us.” Junmyeon mumbled the last part, and if Chanyeol caught it he said nothing. 

As much as Junmyeon wanted to believe in Sehun and follow him through it all like he’d promised, it was times like these he wished his younger brother would just listen to anyone else–they may not be bound by blood was they were damn near close enough. Running the family “business” that stretched back decades wasn’t an easy task, everyone who grew up in this life knew this–they’d seen the crumble of lives before their very eyes at the hands of the job, some more than others. 

For the longest time, everyone had lived very much in the bliss that the end would never come, ignorance was part of the job; you lived very much like you were going to die an hour from now. But times has changed and the mentality of caring for your own very much concreted itself into the new generation's mind, it wasn’t without reason, they’d all lost someone close to them, and Junmyeon fought every day to makes sure it wasn’t a brother they ran the chance of losing. 

Sehun, mostly in Junmyeon eyes, wasn’t meant to step up to be the leader when he did–he was merely a teenager at the time and while he’d had grown into the job over the years, he like the rest of them still slipped up. Byung-Chul was never supposed to get an ounce of their money in the first place, it was something that was very much debated amongst the brothers in the beginning but as power goes, what Sehun ruled as bible everyone else had to go with–even if no one agreed, the arrangement had landed them here, chasing someone through the city, and Junmyeon hoped that maybe this would spark some sense into their still bratty leader. 

“Jun?” Chanyeol grumbled out slightly as they pulled up a few blocked from the bar, it was still dead morning but there were police riffling the area, the two of them seeing the flashing blue lights up ahead and out of the ally they parked in, “How exactly are we going to get past them? The place is still packed.”  

“Like the past,” Junmyeon sighed slightly, reaching into the glove compartment, grasping two masks and tossing one of them at the man, “Put that on”

“We’re breaking in?” There was a glint in Chanyeol’s eyes, for all it was worth he loved his job in a weird way, “Like for real? No sending in under-men to do it?”  Junmyeon merely chuckled.

“Yes, Yeol,” He started pulling the mask over his face and taking anything recognisable off his body, “We’re doing the breaking in this time, I’ve got someone a few blocks over ready to create a distraction if things go sour.” Chanyeol was following his lead, pulling the mask over his vibrant hair, dumping his rings and chain into the glove compartment while he was at it. 

“What’s the plan, chief?” Chanyeol chuckled, taking his gun out of his waistband, checking to see how many bullets he had left in his magazine, “What exactly are we taking,”  

“The girls stuff,” Junmyeon said, doing the same thing as him, “We get in and out, get the girls stuff, if she comes sniffing around later she won’t have much to find here–police will be gone by sunrise as usual, we take away her illusion of safety.” 

“Soo said he saw her tucking her phone under the bar earlier,” Chanyeol stated fixing himself, he could feel the adrenaline thrumming in his veins now – the brothers rarely did the dirty breaking and entering unless it was a big case they were doing, and even at that the smaller members were sent in, Chanyeol knew he stood out like a sore thumb sometimes, “Cameras showed a small backroom behind the bar, if we’re lucky the police haven’t taken her stuff for evidence yet.” 

“They haven’t,” Jun hummed, much to Chanyeol’s confusion, “They’ve been pulling and bagging bullets for the last few hours, Baekhyun got a put trigger happy in there, plus Soo delayed the police call until we could wipe the bar for any incriminating evidence.” He answered his unsaid question. 

 “How do you know all this?” Chanyeol was disbelieved at his older brother, “Like serious? You know too much”  

“I have my people,” Junmyeon smirked slightly, “Police code doesn’t mean much if you wave a bit of persuasion in their face.” Chanyeol merely chuckled at this before tucking his gun back into his waistband and making sure he had everything he needed.

It was silent in the car for a second before Jun’s phone lit up with a message. The two of them halting what they were doing to peer at the screen, it was their tip off. 

“We better get a move on,” Jun said opening his car door, Chanyeol following him, closing it was a small thud as the two of them went into hyperaware mode, “Remember the plan, in and out, we have 15 minutes at the max.” Junmyeon nodded. 

“Don’t fuck this up, or Sehun will make you wish you can stay in whatever jail cell they put you in” 

If you knew that walking North West was going to be harder than just walking straight North and risking being shot by two beautiful men you would have taken it because honestly like everything else in the last few hours, this was not worth it. The lands that the forest was on was not what you thought it was, walking deeper into the place you soon realised that it was steep with hills, ditches, and everything else that could abuse your poor ankles. It wasn’t even a few minutes after you’d set off that you’d fallen down a hill because of the lack of light you were conserving so Jongin and his friend couldn’t find you, but if the birds scattering the trees weren’t enough to go by, the sound of the shocked scream you’d let out after falling told them you were in there with them.

It dazed you for a few seconds after rolling down the hill; branches, thorns, rocks, cutting everything that was exposed of your skin at the moment, and like the glass in your knees it was something you would have to ignore for a second because as soon as you’d realised what had happened you were up on your aching feet and dashing into whatever direction you could, your hands frantically checking that you had everything you set off.

“Keys, gun, knife, money, watch, got it.” You panted to yourself in your head, as your heels sank into the mud with every step of the sprint “Sanity, dignity and total control of your actions? Gone” 

Twigs and branches were whipping against your face as you stumbled through the forest, catching in your hair and tugging you back every so often as you tried to avoid and jump over fallen pieces of trees that were places to elegantly in your way, you felt repetitive constantly talking in your head about how much your shoes not made for this but your ankles felt close to snapping in half as you tripped your way through the dark. If Jongin and his friend were following you they weren’t doing a very good job, or they had lost you again, but regardless you still ran like your life depends on it, ironically it did.

The pitch-black wasn’t something you could find time to focus on amongst the running, unlike your prior fears, but you tried your best to avoid all the obstacles in your way. Your face felt warm and cold at the same time; the raw wounds caused by the whipping trees, coupled with the flush of your cheeks from the extortion on your body caused part of it to heat while the rest of you froze to death because of lack of proper clothing and general fear. Tonight really had done a number on you, probably more than you thought it was going to but here you were anyway, running for your life again.

With burning legs and strangled lungs, you could have cried after what felt like 30 minutes of running when you eventually saw a parting in the trees for the first time in miles, coming to a stop to lean against one of them you gazed as what looked like a soft light breaking through ahead.

“Doesn’t look like taillights,” You thought to yourself, wheezing slightly to try to regulate your lungs, “Or that light that Jongin had before…” You tried to squeeze your eyes to get a grasp of what it was, but you were too tired to focus on what was up ahead.

You knew it was a risk to get curious, but you couldn’t help it, your throbbing legs taking steps towards the light to see what it was – if you needed you were covered by the trees, and if it called for it, you were armed. Nevertheless, you limped towards the beacon, the fate yellow of its hue turning into reds and greens as you broke through the thickest part of the trees – crouching you furrowed your brows slightly.

“This is the rest stop they were on about huh…” You muttered to yourself. It was a pretty rundown place, looking less like a gas station and more like a bar/diner – it had that off the highway theme that the bar you worked in carried, except it was 10x shittier looking and filled with old cars and trucks, “It doesn’t look like much.” It wasn’t much.

Lee’s had the exact look of an old rundown rest stop you’d see in the middle of nowhere, it perfectly fit into the fact that it seemed to be on an off-road out of the city, the giant 24-hour sign that sat under the name was the only indication that it was open at this time of morning. You were carefully looking at the building while concealed by the bushes. If the Jongin and his friend from before knew about this place, there was a chance they’d already scoped it out, or where at least very close. For the first time tonight, you didn’t want to go in just in case that was what would happen, but you were exhausted; dehydrated, hungry and everything else you could be, you had to go in.

With numb legs you stumbled out of the bushes and onto the tarmac, looking like a zombie approaching from the woods you squinted and grunted at the bright neon light that shone out onto the relevantly filled parking lot, it was busy for 6 am, the sky lightening slightly at the sun making its way into the sky. Baekhyun’s gun was peeking out the pocket of your apron and with a sigh you tucked it under your shirt and into your skirt, if you were going into a busy place you weren’t about to scare anyone into thinking you would rob the place, you’re already experienced that once tonight.

“Fuck,” You mumbled slightly, pulling a twig that was stuck in your hair out; you knew you looked disgusting at the moment, your hands still very much covered in blood and glass. Rolling your shoulder back with a sickening crack you walked across the parking lot that was filled with a lot of older looking vehicles and towards the door of the establishment, fixing yourself as you went. “Here we go…”

The door of the place had some glass on it so you could see inside, and it was exactly like you expected; dusty, old, filled with older men watching tv and drinking well before the law permits, you suppose Oasis would have looked like this if you opened 24 hours too but you still shuddered slightly. A young distressed woman walking into a bar of men? This would be fun.

Huffing a big breath of air as you pushed the door open, a couple of the patrons looking towards the door as you walked in, glaring slightly at you disrupting whatever they were going, you felt like you were under some microscope as you looked around; it was quiet – the tv in the corner playing the 6 am news. Walking to the bar you glanced at the bartender, nodding at him as you approached and sat down.

“Water, please.” You said casting your eyes down at the old bar before glancing at the bartender. He was an older guy – probably about his early 30s, very bored looking and ready to leave.

“Just water?” He cocked a brow, you knew no one here just ordered water, but you nodded at him, taking one of Baekhyun’s bills out your pocket to pay, he merely just raised a hand, “Free, you look like shit anyway.” You wanted to roll your eyes, but he was right.

“Tough night,” You sigh leaning your arms on the bar, keeping your hands tucked away from prying eyes, “Very tough night.”

“Looks it,” He didn’t miss a beat, sliding the water to you with a watching eye, he knew you didn’t just stumble on here on accident, “Enjoy.” He monitored you as he walked away to serve a gentleman that raised his hand a few seats down from you.

If you could make love to a glass of water, you were sure you would as you gulped the cold liquid down your burning throat; it felt like it was soothing a fire as you tried your hardest not to moan out at how good it was – the bartender was looking at you as you slammed the glass down on the counter with a pant. You collected yourself slightly as you looked at him.

“Where’s the restroom?” You asked with a slight smile, trying to seem like you didn’t just practically tank a glass of water in a few seconds, “Please.” He looked sceptical of even telling you were that was but pointed to a small alcove around the corner and down a small hallway from the physical bar, it was out of sight; but you had to go through the people to get to it, the light barely reaching it.

Your legs were still tingling from all the running but you tried to seem normal as you walked to the restroom through the tables of people, their eyes were on you like they were hunting you, you knew you couldn’t trust a single man in here. The female bathroom seemed like a haven as you pushed the old door open, the dim light fitting with the fact the place was a shithole.

“They must not see women often,” You pursed your lips as you walked to the sink, preparing for what you were about to see, “Or at all…” You looked in disgust at the floors.

You couldn’t have prepared for what the mirror would show you, your eyes widening at the sight of yourself, you were a mess. If the bride of Frankenstein didn’t get married and kidnapped by a bunch of gang members, you imagined that’s what you could compare yourself too – you were beyond ashen pale, your skin looking like you’d been dead for a couple of hours, the heavy bags setting under your eyes like you wanted them there, the worst of all was the cuts that littered your face and arms, you looked abused by nature.

“Jesus…” You touched your face, wincing slightly as you prodded one cut on your cheek, your hands looked disgusting as you felt too, “I got to clean up before they call the police on me”

In hindsight them calling the police was exactly what you wanted, but you had a weird feeling that would only tip Sehun and his men off, they seemed like powerful people – powerful people have eyes everywhere, hence why you needed to get out of here quickly. You made quick work using cold water to get the blood off your hands, watching the sink turn a sickening red with the sins of the last couple hours – the temperature shot needles into your cuts but you gritted your teeth and bared it as you tried to pull some pieces of glass out, it was messy and disgusting and you knew that you needed proper medical care soon but this would have to do. You tried to wash your face while you were at it, slapping your cheeks to try to get some colour back to face, you looked dead and you needed to get out of here very much alive, even if you were cleaning yourself up in a disgusting bathroom. Taking a step back you checked your clothes, opting to shimmy off your tights while you were at it, they were beyond saving.

Taking more care, you cleaned your knees as best as you could, most of the glass was lodged in your skin or had been pushed out miles into the woods, you were looking more decent but still not great. As you fixed your shirt your hands touched the gun you had tucked away, pulling it out you looked at the large weapon.

“How do I even check how many bullets are in this thing?” You thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the side of it, the weird symbol on the gun was still a mystery to you, “You think watching enough cop shows would tell you how to do this” The whole gun was a mystery to you, you barely knew how to shoot it let alone take care of it, “Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it” You tucked the thing away again.

You didn’t know how long you were in the bathroom, but you guessed it was long enough, stuffing your old tights into the bin by the door you opened the old thing listening out to the people that were out there. There was a light chatter of the people as you pushed your body out the door, much like you did at the house – quietly. They had turned the news up and the people were listening intently to it as you peeked around the other wall to the main section of the bar, you only caught the end of a sentence by it had your eyes widening.

“-Woman missing in a bar shoot out that left 13 dead,” The presenter said with a grim voice, and while you couldn’t see the screen you begged they weren’t showing your picture, “Police are hunting for a young woman by the name of (y/n), aged 22, who was a worker at the bar the night of the incident” He sounded passive. But there were grumbles in the bar at him, “No details confirmed as of yet, but police have linked it to a string of gang associated crimes that have sprung up in the city. If anyone has information, Police have urged that you contact the number at the bottom of the scree-“ You stopped listening at that point. 

Screwing your face up you thumped your head off the wall slightly, no one had got a good look at you yet and after cleaning yourself up, you guessed that if you walked out there they’d click instantly that you were the missing woman – the news probably showed a photo of you, they always do for missing cases.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” You peaked around again, noticing some patrons were looking towards the bathroom, “And quick.” The hallway had to go somewhere.

Scuttling quickly, you ran the opposite direction to a series of backrooms. You blindly opened the first door you saw – being met with a dinky looking office. You breathed a sigh of relief as you locked the door behind you, leaning against it. This was the first you wanted to be locked in. You had set to work quickly if you wanted to get out, there was a small window you could probably crawl out of to get to the parking lot but how you would get out of there was what you were looking for. Going towards the desk you practically ripped every draw open to find anything to help you till you were met with a locked door. Having enough of everything tonight you didn’t hesitate to grab a pair of scissors and jam them in the small opening, using all the strength you had left in you to force the drawer open, the old wood splitting as it bursts open.

“Jackpot,” You sang slightly as you smiled at the drawer, locked inside was a pair of car keys and a small wad of cash, picking up the keys you twirled them around your fingers with a small rattle, you left the man you were about to rob his cash at least as you gripped them in your hands, “We’ve got to blast.” You spoke to no one in particular.

Glancing around the office one last time you grabbed the jacket that was lying on the chair, the rough and heavy denim probably not ideal for your wounds, but you grabbed it anyway – going towards the window with a big breath. It wasn’t locked, much to your joy but the sound of footsteps coming towards the office practically hauled your ass out of the thing quickly, depositing you onto the hard ground below with a groan of pain. Rebounding quickly, you shuffled the jacket on and dashed out into the parking lot, grabbing the keys wildly to press the unlock. 

The door handle was wiggling as you left. It was a tense few seconds as you stood in the large lot pressing the keys to see which car you were about to steal, listening closely you heard the sound of unlocked and a slight beep to your left. Feeling like you were in a heist game you tossed yourself towards the car that clicked, ignoring the fact it was an old beat-up four-door for a second – you imagined if you had the strength the doors with be off the hinges with the rate you threw the thing open, your body bouncing slightly as you threw yourself in. You’d never started a car so fast in your life, the old thing spluttering to life as you hastily reversed it out its space – trying not to hit any cars as you went.

“Oh, fuck!” You shouted as the door to the rest stop burst open, the bartender for before furiously running out, the tires were screeching as you sped through the lot, driving past the owner who wrathfully smacked his hand at the car that jetted past him.

Tokyo Drift had nothing on you as you screeched out the rest stop parking lot, the owner of the car running behind you for a few seconds as you sped up the road and away from the rest stop. Your heart was buzzing in your chest as you gripped the wheel so tight your knuckled turned a different shade.

“I’ll add him to the list of people that want me dead,” You muttered. 

As soon as you were out of the vicinity of the rest stop you tried to slow the car down to a normal pace, you were without your licence or any form of id on you, and with the police looking for you, you couldn’t risk getting pulled over – the car you had hijacked stank of old cigarettes and cheap cologne, the faded leather interior looked like it was a few seconds away from giving up, but it was full of gas and It was currently the only getaway vehicle you had. The thought of where to go jumped around your head as you eventually after about 20 minutes of driving you turned into a section of the city you recognised, the sun starting to peek out of the clouds in the distance.

“I can’t go to the bar,” You gripped the wheel, talking to yourself, the radio was on but it was very low, “The police have probably taken my things by now,” You didn’t exactly know if you were a wanted criminal yet seeing as you were the only one missing from the bar shoot out but you had a guess that the police probably had you as the main suspect, “I could try to go back to my apartment, they might not have touched that yet…” It was an inherently stupid idea, but it was something. You had hoped that maybe Sehun’s men wouldn’t think you’d be stupid enough to go back to your place, hoping they thought you’d run to the police or something.

The highway you were on was about 40 minutes away from your apartment on the other side of the city, and the thought of going to a friend’s place crossed your mind for a second, but for right now you needed a change of clothes and shoes fast – no stores would be open yet and because your face was plastered on the news, you couldn’t risk going into a shop anyway, you’d have to ditch the car soon, the bartender had probably called you in already with his stolen vehicle. It was a very messy situation, driving a stolen car through a busy city in daylight, but you would have to step on it to get back to your place and out before anyone got wind of you, the last nearly 12 hours had been an experience and you knew that it would not be over just yet

As soon as Chanyeol and Junmyeon had returned to the compound with the girls things they dashed straight back to their bosses office, glancing at each other with a nod that said “keep this short and sweet”, they had heard their boss was to put it lightly looking fragile at the moment, a bottle of empty booze sitting outside his office door. It was a tense few seconds of looking at each other before Chanyeol eventually raised his hand to knock on the old mahogany door. 

There was a beat of silence before they heard him, “Come in,” Sehun grumbled out. 

Opening the door, they were met with the same sight they’d left with, Sehun sitting ideally at his desk with a passive expression – only this time he was minus his jacket and tie, an illusion of docile at the situation. The two walked further in to see a very rough-looking Baekhyun laying on the couch of Sehun’s office, his face bruised and stitched up but still breathing. 

“Anything?” Sehun asked with little to no emotion in his voice. Junmyeon knew instantly that he was doubting himself again, so he looked at Chanyeol before he spoke. 

“We got her things.” Jun said lightly, nodding at Chanyeol to place them on his desk, the girl’s bag and jacket making a small clunk on Sehun’s pristine desk, “Also got word from Jongin and Minseok.” 

“Saying?” Sehun was keeping it short, “Found her yet?”

“Well no,” Junmyeon started, “They found bloody pieces of glass in the forest near the house, they think she…” He was promptly cut off.

“If you say to me, they have an idea of where she might be, save it.” Sehun grumbled out, spinning on his chair to face them, his face tense, “I don’t want ideas,” He continued, “I want her found, and quickly.” Junmyeon could feel his eye twitching. 

“I’m aware, Sehun, but it’s better than nothing.” Junmyeon tried to reason with the tense boss while Chanyeol kept quiet, “We’ll find her.” 

“You better.” Sehun spoke tensely, “He’s already on thin ice” He nodded at Baekhyun who was out like a light. 

“We brought you here things,” Chanyeol cut in, looking at Jun before speaking again, “We thought Soo could run her phone for anyone she might go to, I know he’s working on her address and her face is all over the news.” That wasn’t exactly the right thing to say. 

“And so are we,” Sehun spoke, looking him dead in the eye, “Gang affiliated crimes seems to be the phrase of the day.” He shut his eyes for a second before continuing, “We’re getting sloppy, as soon as the girls found, call a meeting.” 

“Yes sir,” Chanyeol said uncharacteristically, he could read it was a very tense situation that was about to boil over, “I’m about to head back out once Soo gives me the address.” Junmyeon was looking at the two of them with a look in his eyes. 

“Good,” Sehun turned his back to them again, opting to look out the window, he merely waved his hand at them, “Take Baekhyun with you, he caused this mess, he should be out there like the rest of you. I’ve seen the man fight with a bullet wound; he’ll be fine.” He stated before anyone could question him. 

Chanyeol merely nodded before going over to his usual partner in crime, waking the sleeping rock up with a hard shove, placing his finger over his lips to be quiet as he hauled him out the room – Junmyeon was about to follow them till Sehun spoke up again.

“Jun,” He muttered, “You stay, we need to chat.”

Morning traffic hit just as you were speeding your way to your apartment, your chest rumbling with an annoyed growl – you weren’t used to driving in the city, opting to commute everywhere but you were reminded of how precious your time was as the masses of people started to flood the roads to get to wherever they were going. Cause of this it took twice as long to get to your apartment, daylight very much settling in the sky as you eventually parked the car behind your shitty apartment building – it was a generic apartment building, with every floor being exposed to the outside with balconies that ran along exterior, the lights of every home that was away showing clear as day. Stepping out of the car you looked at the building, thanking the lord you lived at the back in the first place, you could see your front door on the 5th floor. You sprinted to the side entrance and punched your code in, listening to beep of it open before you as you pushed the heavy thing. Normally you’d take the lift since it was 5 floors, but you were buzzing with too much anxiety to think about staying in a confined space for too long that you practically booked it up the stairs in record time. 

Facing the open balcony that led to your apartment you tried to stay as quiet as possible as not to alert your neighbours. If they watched the news, they knew it was you the police was looking for, and you couldn’t risk tipping them off that you were home. It was a jittery walk to your apartment door, but it was worth as, as soon as you were met with the old peeling painted door, you instantly crouched down to lift the loose slab of concrete under the door, your spare key looking dull as ever crushed under its weight. Checking both sides of you before you opened the door, you wanted to cry as it opened, the sight of normality filling your vision. It was exactly how you left it last night, they’d hadn’t been to visit you yet, the dull white ways and the personal touches you placed everywhere unmarred by anyone touching it, you quietly shut the door as you entered. 

It was a straight B-Line for your bedroom as you tossed the jacket you’d stole onto the couch; you needed your own clothes. Tossing your apron on the bed and your disgusting clothes on the floor, you didn’t hesitate to dress in something that was very low key and neutral – the skirt and heels being replaced with comfortable pants and boots that didn’t carry a 4-inch heel, you also tossed off your sweaty shirt and you physically cringed at the feel of touching.

“I am disgusting,” You spoke to yourself quietly, pulling a tank top and sweatshirt over your head, wincing slightly at the pain in your body, “Absolutely disgusting, god, I wish I had time to shower.” You had to cut your time in the apartment to as little as possible. Tugging a brush through your hair, you pulled a backpack out from under your bed – it was your old university backpack, but it would do while you figured out where you would go, you didn’t even have time to check over your wounds or patch them up. 

Everything that was in the apron, aside from the gun, got shoved into the backpack quickly along with a few other things; more cash, some personal hygiene items, a few belongings, the clothes you had taken off, and some food was all stuffed into your bag.

“Can’t have the police knowing I was here,” You thought to yourself stuffing the clothes in, you tried to leave the thing as untouched as possible, making little to no noise in your creaky kitchen as you shoved small snacks into your bag. You can’t say it thrilled you to toss the heavy denim jacket on again, but it was warm, and it meant not leaving any evidence that you’d been here by taking something else.

Baekhyun’s gun was stuffed into the back of your pants, the cold metal still sending a shiver up your spine – but was an uncomfortable feeling having it there but not as uncomfortable as walking back to your front door, now that was bittersweet, not knowing the next time you’d get to come back here. Praying to anyone that would listen to you, you hoped it would be soon that you got to see this place again, but you tried to bare it as best as you could as you said a small goodbye – opening the front door to let the light in.

 “Time to go.” You muttered softly stepping back out. You were taking the spare key with you this time, on the off chance you had to return. Closing the door was saddening as it felt a bit too metaphorical for your liking, but it had to be done – you had to be gone and soon. You had taken initiative to take two pain meds while you were in the house, to keep your body going for along as possible, the next part of your plan getting a motel on the edge of the city till you could safely go to the police. It was a long shot to get to the other side of the city you were on, but you would chance it, you just had to dump the stolen car and find something to tide you over. 

Rushing down the stairs again you had noted that it had gotten a lot lighter than it was when you had first entered the building, the soft blue skies clear as they had been for a while- the cold air nipping at your nose. What you didn’t expect to note was what happened as soon as you got up to the car to unlock it. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sweetheart,” A calm but sharp voice spoke. You almost dropped the keys in fright as you froze, looking over your shoulder slightly, “Have a fun little adventure?” It was Baekhyun.

“Y-You’re awake…” You stuttered, barely struck for words and not turning fully around to face him, your free hand was itching to go towards your back where you were keeping his gun. 

“You’ve put us through a tough couple of hours, sweetheart,” He cooed to you, it was as taunting as any other time you’d heard him speak, “I mean, you’re a real chancer I’ll give you that, making us chase you through the city,” He chuckled softly, “Sehun is just thrilled with you.” Your blood ran cold at his name. You were still facing the car, but you could see someone else approaching you. 

“Have your fun later, Baekhyun.” The body came close to you, Chanyeol. 

He was so much taller than you were, taller than Baekhyun or even Sehun, dressed in all black but with the same flaming red hair you’d seen earlier – he didn’t seem as setting on strangling you where you stood as Baekhyun did, in fact, he was pretty passive to the situation as you looked up at him, his eyes weren’t hard, just tired. 

“I’m going to give you two options,” He spoke directly to you, looking down into your eyes, “You either come with us peacefully and save us a lot more bother,” He began, raising an eyebrow, “Or we force you into the car and haul you back kicking and screaming if we have to, your choice.” He was firmer than Baekhyun.

Looking at him, you probably should have picked the first option. His physique said he could crush you like a grape, but as you’d stated many times before – you had come this far. 

“Option three.” You said to him, his tough exterior melting quickly as confusion took over his face. 

“Wait what?” He asked, brows furrowed. 

Again, you don’t know what came over you but as quickly as he questioned it, you found the strength to lift you aching leg and quickly kick him right where his crown jewels were – watching his eyes bulge out and his large body kilo over would have been comedic if you didn’t instantly dash away, jumping past his grabbing hand. Baekhyun yelled behind you and instantly footsteps were heard, you weren’t the quickest runner in the world and he had long legs so you did want you had too, reaching into your pants you quickly flicked the safety off the gun and fired backwards blindly – Baekhyun yelp of fright ringing out the apartment complex. You had dashed into the alleyway that was close the apartment, planning to run onto the street and lose them in the crowd, the end was nearly insight for you – that was until you felt a hand grasp onto your backpack, ripping it off you, and sending your whole body to get flung backwards.

There was an audible wheeze and footsteps in the alley, as your back and head collided very hard with the concrete – a burning pain shooting up your spine, and the sound of steps rushing in. Baekhyun’s gun was still very much grasp in your hand but as the white dots cleared from your vision, you felt a boot being placed onto your neck – not enough to choke you, but enough to keep you down, your blurred vision filled with a man you’d never seen before, his cropped but still decently long dark hair and passive face looking down on you, his gun clocked and pointed directly at you. 

“Stay down.” His voice was extremely bored but still tense as he spoke down to you. 

It only a took a mere few seconds before you were grabbed and hauled up by a smirking Baekhyun, his bruised face looking like the Cheshire cat as he roughly grabbed your arms and forced you up – your back and head severely protested, the burning and the throbbing making it hard to stand, something only one man noticed, Chanyeol who had stumbled into the alley a little after Baekhyun – his eyes narrowing on your slumped figure. A warm sensation was tricking down the back of your head, and if your hands weren’t restrained you guessed your fingers would come back bloody upon touch, but Baekhyun had you in a very firm hold as he practically tossed you to their car. It was all blacked out, and expensive-looking, much like the one you’d shot out earlier. 

“Hands out,” The man that stood on your neck said to you, very bored, “Quickly,” Baekhyun was thorough as he lifted your arms, the feeling of something being strapped to your wrists and tightened made you wince; you were being zip-tied.

“Just in case you get any ideas,” Baekhyun narrowed his eyes at you, you could hear someone going through your things at the same time; the zip of the bag loud in your ringing ears. Baekhyun also made quick work of stealing his watch back from your wrist, clasped onto his own very swiftly, “And I’ll be taking back my things too, brat.” 

Watching with glazed eyes, you looked at the things that had been stolen over the last couple hours being handed back to their owner; gun, keys, his cash, his watch, random bits of paper, everything. It was bittersweet, even more so as you watched your backpack get tossed into the back of the car. 

“You’re really dumb, you’re aware of that right?” Baekhyun shoved your head under the roof of the car to force you into the vehicle, you winced as he dug his fingers into the sore spot on your head, your body had gone through it, you turned your head to glare back at him, talking for the first time. 

“I knocked you out, didn’t I?” You smirked at him spitefully, your teeth on show. 

The rage was bubbling up in him as he resorted to just throwing you in the car, your body landing on the leather seats in a pile, you cried out softly as you landed awkwardly – body burning in pain. Flicking your head up you watched as Baekhyun and the man you didn’t know the name of got into the front of the car, your head flicking again as the door next to you opened – Chanyeol reaching in, and much softer than Baekhyun, sitting you up right before sitting on the seat next to you, making sure you were buckling in. He had a passive look in his eyes to the situation, but you respected that he at least put your seat belt on for you. 

“Drive, Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun slumped in the passenger seat holding his nose in stress tired from the last few hours, “Before I decide to avenge the fact the stray shot at me with my gun.”

“Kyungsoo,” You thought to yourself, “That’s another name down.” 

You gulped down all the saliva in your mouth to try to soothe your dry throat; it was out of fear mostly; you knew they were taking you somewhere – and you guessed it was back to Sehun. Chanyeol kept glancing at you, you could see from the corner of your eye, whether it was to monitor you, you didn’t know but what you knew was that the silence in the car was deafening. 

“It was going to be a very long ride.”

Pissing yourself or maybe tossing yourself out the car door on the highway were all very real thoughts you had on the drive back to what you recognised, after about 30 minutes, was the house you had escaped from before, the scenery there actually looking somewhat nice in the daytime, but you weren’t here to appreciate the views, you guessed you were driving back to your death. The car was silent with Kyungsoo drive, Baekhyun looking like he was trying to get some shut eyes while the peace lasted, and Chanyeol messing around on his phone – it was pathetic that they knew that you weren’t that much of a threat that they couldn’t even spare any brain cells to pay attention to you. 

The first half of the trip comprised of Baekhyun glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, nothing you didn’t expect to be honest, but it was setting you more on edge than you already were, looking at the scenery you knew you’d be at the house soon.

How soon however wasn’t something that you were expecting, it felt like time was going with your heartbeat as within a few minutes of entering the green lands you’d run through hours before; you were pulling up to the same you’d also booked it out of.

There was more security than necessary, to be honest, a couple of men you didn’t recognise standing around the steps to the house; with Jongin, standing by the door. You felt like you were a security threat as they ripped the door open next to you, a man that you’d never seen more peeked in; he looked gentle, but you knew that was just probably an act. 

“Our guest has returned safely I see,” He smiled slightly, but there wasn’t much conviction to it, Chanyeol had left the car and was now standing next to him, “Chanyeol, take her inside,” Chanyeol muttered something to him before he approached you. 

Chanyeol took your arm in his grasp, much gentler than you were expecting, and gave you a look before he lifted you out of the car and onto your feet; the world spun for a second and you would have stumbled if you never had his hold on you. 

“Great, add a concussion to the list of things wrong today,” You thought bitterly to yourself. 

The courtyard of the grand house was filled with various people, but not the man of the hour, and they all looked at you annoyed – there was some light talking but you didn’t pay too much attention to it, as much as you wanted to bolt again, getting shot before that could happen wasn’t the most appealing thing. The man who peeked into the car was now leading you and Chanyeol into the house, Jongin staring at you as you passed him by the door. It was a beautiful foyer, light coloured with two grand staircases that met in the middle of a large first floor, not what you expected. 

“Take her up to the boss's office,” The man leading you said, walking ahead, “I’ll be up in a few.” 

Chanyeol had said little, merely humming in agreement as he tugged you towards the stairs – your heart was racing now. If you had to pick a guess, the double doors at the top of the stairs were the office you were being led to and that meant only one thing. 

“Sehun.” You thought to yourself. 

There wasn’t any time wasted tugging you up them, the sound of footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors and the sound of you being followed up the stairs, it was dramatic really but you couldn’t think much of it, hell you couldn’t think much of anything right now. It confirmed previous thoughts as soon enough you stopped at the double doors, Chanyeol’s hand reaching out to knock on the wood, there was no time squandered between the knocked and the door opening.

Before you knew it you were being met with an elegant office; full of dark wood, clean, and huge windows you wanted to stare at the beauty of the place but you felt your blood run cold at the sight of the man sitting facing the door. His office chair was a huge dark red antique piece that made him look threatening, or more threatening than he was – in front of him was a single chair, you guess that was for you.

“Sit.” He gestured to the chair, cutting your thoughts off. There was a tense tone to his voice, he wasn’t happy. Chanyeol looked at you slightly before following his bosses’ orders; practically carrying you to the unpleasing chair and forcing you down onto it with a hand on your shoulder. 

Sehun was still dark-haired beauty you’d seen before, still clothed in an expensive suit, and looking very dangerous. There was a beat of silence between the two of you as you both stared each other down, his dark irises boring into you with intent and yours very much losing the nonverbal battle – you supposed that if this wasn’t the situation you were in, you’d find this whole thing either very amusing or very hot, but that wasn’t the situation you were in. His eyes were practically trying to kill you. 

“You know,” He began, putting his hands together in the illusion of thought, but you knew he didn’t have to think about what he had to say to you, “You’re a lot more trouble than what you’re worth.” He looked at you with a raised brow. 

“So much so, that I’m considering not even letting you explain to me what you were thinking, because honestly?” He continued, leaning forward, “I don’t give a single shit.” 

Pursing your lips, you tried to keep eye contact with him, but your resolve melted very quickly as your eyes cast down to your hands – more fascinated with the fact that they needed some serious medical attention. The wheels of his chair creaked against the hardwood floor as he stood up from it, a slight click filling the room from his dress shoes as he rounded the desk. You squeezed your eyes as he neared closer, the pure aura radiating from him as you felt him too close for comfort. It ripped a small gasp out your throat, the feeling of fingers clamping down on your chin, your head being flicked up, much to your necks dismay.

“Pay attention to someone,” He hissed out while leaning closer, your chin in his grasp, “When they’re talking to you, stray.” His voice dropped into a whisper. Looking up at him, you noted the bags around his eyes; his skin was free of blemishes, the slight scar the only thing marring his face.

“You’ve caused quite a stir in the house this morning,” He hummed, not going to let you speak at all, “You’ve injured and robbed one of my men, shot the window out of my car, had us running over the city and woods trying to find you” He listed off, your chin still in his hand, “So tell me, why should I bother keeping you alive?” 

Your lips parted as if you would say something, but the prospect of death honestly hit you like a ton of bricks, and what would once be a retort, turned into nothing more than a gentle puff of air from your lips. Your eyes burning slightly with tears.

“Cat got your tongue?” He taunted you, “I suppose your actions do speak louder than words.” You gritted your teeth watching as he reached into his suit jacket with his spare hand, “Remember this?” He merely smirked softly as he questioned you, a shiny pistol withdrew from his pocket and into his hand; it was the one you tried to shoot him with last night. 

Your body was trembling now as he let go of your chin, his hand touching the pistol with a look on his face. You would be shot with the same thing you’d tried to shoot him with. This was truly bittersweet. He smiled at you, a haunting smiling that you assumed many people had seen, as he flicked the safety off.

“Now, we’ve seen you’ve got yourself acquainted with one of these,” He waved it at you, his thumb clocking it as he did so, “Let’s see if I remember how to use one.” The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

You don’t think you’d ever be able to describe the feeling of the barrel of a gun being placed to your head, the cold metal practically sizzling with the heat of your flushed face – but what you could describe, it was the feeling of sheer dread settling into your bones, your body numbing with its fate. You didn’t pray; you didn’t wish it was all a dream, you merely looked up at the man who had your fate in his hands – eyes bloodshot and wet. Sehun had no remorse for you, his face dancing with mirth you’d only seen in films – he wasn’t psycho, no, that wasn’t the look he gave off, this was his job. 

The feeling of him pressing the barrel harder to your forehead had you gritting your teeth so hard you thought you’d cracked a tooth, your eyes staying open. You weren’t sure what you expected next; you didn’t know what being shot in the head felt like, but you were sure that cardiac arrest would kill you if he didn’t. His finger toyed with the trigger, tapping on it lightly, the metal clinking softly – he smiled one last time at you. The breath you took felt like your lungs would burst, a sharp gasp shaking our trembling body, the tears were trailing down your face now; you expected pain and white light.

Thud. Nothing came. It wasn’t loaded.

Your body practically slumped into a heap as nothing came, a sob passing by your lips as your forehead pressed further into the barrel – you were an emotional mess, but it was only made worse by the feeling of lips by your ear. Sehun’s voice sounded smooth in your ears as he kept the gun pressed to your head, his lips faintly brushing the shell of it as he spoke.

“Next time you want to pull something like that I’ll make sure it’s a real bullet between your eyes.”

[tw-anchor]

35. Emotional Tethers

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x11; Alpha Pact

Word Count: 7,880

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, human sacrifices, Scott’s asshole dad, 

Author’s Note: I’m updating with a new chapter today because I’ve been gone for a while and I need to play catch up. My grandma died, so I haven’t been very motivated lately. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please let me know what you think, reblog, and like!

Masterlink in Pinned Post!

"Derek?!" Stiles shouted and he sounded so terrified it broke Olivia's heart. He slapped his hand down on Derek's cheek to stir him awake. "Derek, come on!"

Olivia shook her cousin's body while Stiles kept on hitting him. She didn't know if it was because Stiles was scared or taking his anger out on Derek for Jennifer's disappearance, but damn, he was putting all of his strength into his blows.

"Derek, wake up," Olivia shook him again. "Derek!"

Stiles curled his open hand into a fist and reared back, ready to punch Derek awake. Just as his arm reamed forward, Derek lifted his hand and caught it. Olivia sighed in relief and placed a chaste kiss on Derek's sweaty forehead before helping him up into a sitting position.

Derek looked around the elevator, bewildered. "Where is she?"

"Jennifer? Gone with Scott's mom," Stiles answered, his voice still panicked.

"She took her?"

"Yeah, and if that's not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion, okay?" Stiles informed him. "So, we gotta get you out of here. The police are coming right now and we gotta get you the fuck out of here."

Olivia and Stiles both worked together to get Derek to his feet. "Woah," he stumbled slightly. "What about Cora?"

"She's with Isaac and Peter," Olivia told him. "They should be in the parking lot with the Argents."

"Olivia and I will hold the police off," Stiles added. "but you have to go right now."

Derek glanced at Olivia worriedly. "Be careful," he touched her cheek for a second and then brushed a thumb over the small cut just under her temple from where she hit the wall earlier. "and get that cut cleaned."

"I will," she assured him. "Go now."

Derek took off toward the parking lot and Olivia and Stiles made their way to the Emergency Wing's lobby. They sat in chairs right next together; Olivia laid her head on Stiles' shoulder while he grabbed her hand and locked their fingers together.

"I'm sorry all of this is happening, Stiles," Olivia whispered; there was something about the silence in the hospital that made her want to not disturb it.

"S'not your fault," Stiles kissed the top of her head. "Babe, you almost died last night. There wasn't anything you could do to stop Jennifer from taking my dad or Melissa."

"I know," and she did know that; she didn't blame herself for what was happening. None of them knew that Jennifer was the darach until she tried to kill her and Lydia. "but that doesn't mean that I can't feel sorry for the pain you and Scott are going through. How are you feeling?"

"Not great," his hold on her hand got a little tighter but he made up for it by playing with her fingers; it made her smile. "Maybe Cora was right, you know? We're only finding the bodies," he sniffed, a single tear making its way down his left cheek. "I don't want to find my dad's body."

Olivia gently detached her hand from his and wrapped her arms around him, her chin resting on his left shoulder. "We're gonna find him, Stiles, okay? We're gonna do everything we possibly can."

"How? We don't have a plan," he shifted so his face nuzzled her neck, his fingers pressing firmly into her back. His voice was absolute miserable and it made tears sting Olivia's eyes.

"We'll come up with one. I'll get Allison, Lydia, and Isaac and we'll come up with something. We're all smart, we can do it. Even if I have to join Deucalion, I will do that for you."

Stiles shook his head in protest and whispered. "Don't. I need you by my side."

Olivia stroked the back of his head. "Okay. I won't leave your side. Not even to go to the bathroom."

Her little joke coaxed a smile out of him, she could feel his lips quirk against her skin. He was about to reply when loud sirens alerted them to the fact that the police had arrived. They separated as the police officers and numerous FBI agents stormed into the hospital.

Stiles spotted a man that Olivia didn't recognize and sighed heavily. "Oh, just perfect."

Olivia gave him a questioning look but was unable to ask him what was up, because the man—who had to be a giant—walked over to them.

"A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess," the man stopped in front of Stiles, glaring down at him. "What a shocker. Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?"

Olivia started to protest—she was pretty sure Stiles was allowed a lawyer with him while being questions, or something like that—but Stiles had already spoken up, very sarcastically, "If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid."

The smile smiled just as sarcastically. "Where's your dad?" he asked Stiles. "And why has no one been able to contact him?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in hours."

"Is he drinking again?"

"Is that question appropriate for this investigation?" Olivia glared at the agent.

The man gave her a firm be-quiet look and turned back to Stiles. "Answer the question."

Stiles sighed heavily. "What do you mean, again? He never had to stop."

"But he did have to slow down," the man prompted. "Is he drinking like he used to?"

Stiles licked his lips and glared up at him. "All right, how about this? Next time I see him, I'll give him a field sobriety test, okay?" his voice hardened. "We'll do the alphabet, start with 'F' and end with 'U.'"

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek to hold back her laughter. Stiles totally made the agent look like a fool.

The agent smiled tightly. "How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?"

"I don't know what happened here," Stiles exhaled heavily. "Olivia and I were stuck in the elevator the whole time."

"You're not the one who put the names on the doors, are you?"

Olivia and Stiles shared a confused look. "What name?"

"Argent."

-

"The word is guardian, Allison," Mr. Argent said as he opened the door to their apartment, Allison, Olivia, and Stiles piling in after him. "More than anyone, you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately."

"But she took Scott's mother and Stiles' father," Allison pointed out as they walked through the apartment and into Mr. Argent's office. "That's not a coincidence."

"Yeah, I'd also consider the fact that someone put your name up in large block letters on the elevator doors," Stiles added. "That kind of felt like a warning to me."

"I think it was Ms. Morrel," Olivia stated, remembering how the guidance counselor told Scott about Deucalion wanting them in his pack. "She knows everything about the alpha pack and she knew Jennifer before. I think she might be trying to help us."

Stiles scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, she needs to get on that a lot faster, okay? Seeing as how the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away."

He sat in one of the chairs in front of Mr. Argent's desk; Olivia went to him, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.

Mr. Argent gave him a kind look. "Stiles, don't give up hope."

Stiles ducked his head. "They could already be dead."

"I don't think so," Mr. Argent disagreed. "There's something about Jennifer's tactics. It's like she's still positioning, still moving pieces into place."

"And you're one of them," Allison reminded her father.

"Then let's not wait around to see the next move," Mr. Argent grabbed the map of Beacon Hills and the telluric currents and flattened it on his desk. "Everything she's done has been on a telluric current, so Melissa and the sheriff have to be somewhere on one of those currents, right?" he paused when he saw that Stiles hadn't followed Olivia over to the desk. "Stiles, if we're gonna find them, we need your help."

"You're seriously want to go after her?" Stiles didn't stand up, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I mean, what if she just takes you like the others, huh? No offense, but what's the difference between you and them?"

Mr. Argent reached for one of the drawers in his desk. He pulled it open and Olivia watched in shock as he pulled out a huge handgun. She inched closer to Allison, who gave her a reassuring smile. She had never been shot, but there was something about seeing Mr. Argent hold a gun in front of her that made her itch.

"I'm carrying a .45," Mr. Argent told Stiles bluntly. "Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face, but personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off."

Olivia looked back at Stiles and quirked her lips, her expression telling him 'he's got a point.'

Mr. Argent set the gun back on his desk. "We've got one priority right now and that's to find Melissa and your dad," he said firmly. "We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out. The only thing we don't have is time, which is why I need all three of you."

Stiles sighed and stood up. "Where do we start?"

Mr. Argent pulled out his blue light so they could see exactly where he had marked the telluric currents, the places where the victims were kidnapped, and the places where their bodies were found.

"The place where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found. I think the placement has to do with the strength of the current," he held the light over the map, hitting three different places. "So, there's the school, the animal clinic, and the bank."

"Wait, hold on," Olivia spoke up thoughtfully, her eyes studying the map. "You don't think she would use the same place twice, do you?"

"Only if she didn't succeed the first time," Mr. Argent hit the light against the mark at the bank.

"Scott's boss," Allison realized.

"Deaton," Mr. Argent confirmed. "It was her only failure. That could mean something."

"That's just one place so far," Stiles grumbled. "We're gonna need a lot more help."

Allison looked at Olivia. "What about Lydia?"

Mr. Argent looked at the girls, confused. "Lydia? What can she do?"

"She's a banshee, a harbinger of death," Olivia told him. "She's been finding the bodies without looking for them. Which, now that I think about it, might not be the best thing. Because if she can find Ms. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, that means..."

No one said anything as her sentence trailed off. They all knew what that meant.

"We can still bring her in," Mr. Argent decided; Olivia nodded in agreement. "What about you? Are you able to locate them?"

"I can try. They're not considered official pack members, but their relation to Scott and Stiles might give me something," she glanced at Stiles, who gave her a small smile.

Mr. Argent nodded. "All right, good," he glanced at Allison. "Let's get ready then."

Olivia and Stiles watched as the Argents pulled out their weapons. Mr. Argent went down to the basement of their apartment building where they had a storage locker full of weapons, while Allison went around the apartment and pulled out the ones they kept with them all the time. Guns—big and small—bows and arrows, Chinese ring daggers—those were harder than they looked to use, Olivia knew because Allison had been attempting to teach her the ropes—more knives, smoke grenades, and anything else that would help defeat Jennifer, and/or the alpha pack, were laid on the desk.

Stiles looked at the collection of weapons with wide eyes. "Woah," Mr. Argent cocked his gun into place. "I thought you guys were retired."

"Retired, yes. Defenseless, no," Mr. Argent set the gun back on the desk and then turned to face Olivia and Stiles. "Make sure both of your phones are on. If either of you hear from Scott, let us know immediately."

Stiles checked his phone, where there were no messages or missed calls from Scott, and frowned. "Yeah, I'm thinking that's gonna be kind of unlikely."

Mr. Argent glanced at Allison, seeing the frown on her face. "All three you, try to remember he's just doing what he thinks is right," he advised them all.

Allison's gaze was already on the door; Olivia, Stiles, and Mr. Argent turned to see Isaac standing within the door frame. "I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow, but..." his claws slipped out of his nail beds and he held them up. "Well, I'm getting pretty good with these."

-

The one thing she had not expected when she stepped a foot into her house a half-hour later, was Natalie rushing up to her. She pulled Olivia into a tight hug—a very tight hug—and held the back of her head, as if assuring herself that Olivia was alive and relatively okay.

Olivia should have expected it. Natalie might not be her mother, but all intents and purposes, she was. She watched over Olivia for six, going on seven, years, she fed and sheltered her, and she loved her and cared for her just as much as Lydia. Her stomach dropped when she realized that she hadn't gotten in touch with Natalie after the whole fiasco that she and Lydia went through with Jennifer. She had been too caught up with the events happening in the hospital and she knew that Lydia was okay, only because of her tether to her.

"I was so worried about you," Natalie sighed into her hair.

"I'm sorry," Olivia apologized sincerely but then had to lie about where she had been. "I was at Derek's. He took care of me."

Natalie frowned and pulled away from the hug to get a good look at her. "Your neck. God, I'm going to kill whoever did this to you two."

If only that was possible.

"I'm okay," she assured her aunt; and as if the universe hated her, her voice squeaked like she was a male going through puberty. She cleared her throat, having gotten used to the pain, and asked, "How's Lydia?"

"The poor thing has a concussion and a couple of stitches by her hairline," Natalie sighed sadly and reached up to Olivia's forehead, thumbing over the cut she had cleaned up at the Argents' apartment. "I'm so glad you two are okay."

"Me too," Olivia took her hand and squeezed it quickly. "If it's okay, I'm gonna go see Lydia."

"Of course, honey," Natalie nodded encouragingly. "How about in ten minutes, I come up there and help you get ready for school? I know you don't like to miss it."

"Thanks, Aunt Nat. I'll see you in a few."

Olivia left her aunt and climbed the stairs, heading straight to Lydia's bedroom, only a door from her own room. She knocked gently and waited until she heard Lydia's permission to enter, before going into the room. Lydia was sitting at the end of her bed, dressed in pajamas, flipping through pages of an old photobook. Olivia recognized it; it was the one from their first year in middle school.

She looked up and smiled at Olivia as she padded over to her bed. "Hey."

"Hey, how are you feeling?" she sat next to the redhead.

"My head hurts a little bit, but other than that, I'm fine," Lydia studied the bruise on her neck. "How about you?"

"Just a little bruise."

Lydia pressed her lips together sadly. "What happened last night?"

Olivia described everything that went on last night. She told her about confronting Jennifer with Stiles, Scott, and Derek, about how Jennifer had poisoned Cora with mistletoe and that was why she wasn't healing. She explained how they went to the hospital and the alpha pack showed up, the many ways they tried to thwart them, and the plan that they eventually came up with. Finally, she told Lydia about Jennifer taking Melissa and Scott joining Deucalion and the rest of the alphas.

"I don't believe it," Lydia shook her head with a sigh. "Scott can't really be with them. He can't be."

"He's doing it for his mom and the sheriff," Olivia frowned; more and more, she was thinking that Scott had made the right decision. And she should have done it with him. If making a deal with the devil was the price she had to pay to make sure Noah and Melissa were safe, she'd do it. "And the look on his face..."

"Okay, so what can I do?" Lydia immediately volunteered to help them, making Olivia smile thankfully at her. "I know I'm supposed to be some human Geiger counter for death or something, but you told me that I could maybe save some people. I don't know how to turn it on and off yet, but..."

When she hesitated, Olivia bit the inside of her cheek. "What?"

"Remember what Jennifer said when she was going to kill me after you?" Lydia reminded her. "She said I knew too much."

"You're right. She didn't know you were a banshee."

Olivia's mind raced. Jennifer tried to kill Lydia because she knew something about what was going on, but what was it? She thought back on how Lydia had been acting since the school year started, and other than finding the dead bodies and that stint at the Motel Glen Capri, she couldn't think of much else...Except, wait. There was something. The day before, when they were in English class learning about idioms, Jennifer had commented on Lydia's drawing.

"Your drawing," she said aloud to see if it sparked something in Lydia. "The one you always draw, the tree."

Lydia looked at her confused, "What are you talking about?"

"The tree you always draw," Olivia got up from the bed and rushed over to Lydia's desk, picking up one of the notebooks there. She opened it up and on the very first page, was the tree. She showed it to Lydia. "This tree. You've been drawing it everywhere, Lyds."

"What?" Lydia asked, horrified. She ripped the notebook out of Olivia's grasp and flipped through the rest of the pages. Over and over, on each page, a drawing of the same tree was there in various sizes. "What the hell?"

"She knew that you knew something about the tree, but she didn't know what," Olivia pointed out. "Do you know what the drawing means?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, I don't. I mean, I talked about it with Ms. Morrell once in one of our sessions, but—"

"Ms. Morrell knows?" Olivia cut her off urgently. "About the drawings and stuff?"

"Yeah, why?" Olivia didn't answer her as she pulled out her phone and started messaging Stiles. "Liv?"

"Sorry, sorry," Olivia turned back to her cousin. "Okay, Stiles and I are gonna head to the school and talk to Ms. Morrell. Do you think you can try to get ahold of Aiden and see if he or the other alphas know anything about Jennifer that we don't?"

"I can try," Lydia seemed bewildered at how flustered Olivia was. "Are you all right, Liv?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just need to go," Olivia rushed to the door before stopping and turning back to her. "Hey, do you think I should cover this," she gestured to her neck. "up?"

"No," Lydia said firmly. "You survived Jennifer's attack. You don't need to hide that."

Olivia inhaled deeply, feeling herself get emotional, and smiled softly at Lydia. "Okay, thank you. I love you, Lyds."

"I love you, too, Liv."

-

After getting dressed and throwing her hair into a topknot—she had not had time to shower, which was unfortunate, because she was pretty sure she still had blood in her hair—Stiles picked her up and they rushed to the school. As they started heading over to Ms. Morrell's office, Olivia got a text message from Lydia.

Lyds: Aiden's not texting me back

Liv: All right. Just keep trying, okay?

Lyds: I will. Be careful

Liv: You too

While she was texting her cousin back, she saw a message come in from Isaac. She ignored it for just a second as she looked up at Stiles and informed him of what was going on with Lydia, "Aiden's not texting Lydia back," she paused and saw that he had stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, his phone in his hand. "Are you okay, Stiles?"

Stiles continued to look at the phone, his face crumpling.

"Stiles, what's going on?" she asked cautiously. She walked over to be by his side and saw that Stiles had gotten a text message from Isaac as well. "What does it say?"

"Jennifer, she t—" he inhaled shakily, his hands shaking. "she has Allison's father. She took him. "She's got all three now."

Olivia's heart started racing in her chest but she somehow found words. "There's still time," she focused on that; Jennifer couldn't do anything until the lunar eclipse started. "We still have time, Stiles."

Stiles didn't respond. His hands shook terribly as he put his phone back into his jeans pocket, he was pale and sweaty, and she didn't need to have enhanced hearing to hear how shaky his breath was. Not only did his tether—his was her favorite, a light brown like his eyes when the sun hit them just right—start flashing, different than it did with the werewolf tethers.

"Stiles," she stood on her tiptoes to place the palm of her hand against his cheek, grounding him for a second. "Stiles, are you having a panic attack?"

Stiles struggled to breathe as he nodded, his eyes wide with panic.

"Okay, it's okay, um..." she looked around the hallway and thanked God that Ms. Morrell's office was close to the boys' locker room. "Okay, come on, Stiles."

The frantic gasping that came from Stiles was scary, she wasn't going to lie. However, she needed to be there for him. She had never experienced a panic attack, but she had read about them. And because she knew Stiles had anxiety, she had learned multiple ways to help people who were experiencing panic attacks. Even though everyone was different and so were reactions, she hoped one of the techniques would help him.

Olivia helped Stiles take a seat on the floor, his back leaned up against one row of lockers, and then kneeled down in front of him. Stiles was really beginning to worry now, his face had lost all color and his breathing had turned into hyperventilating.

"Stiles? Stiles, look at me," she gently grabbed his face and tilted it upward so he could look her in the eyes. "I know you're scared right now, but you have to calm down. Can you breathe with me?"

Stiles nodded, breathing heavily.

"All right, here," she picked up one of his hands and pressed it against her stomach where he would be able to feel how she breathed. "and breathe slow like this. Slow inhale, slow exhale."

She demonstrated the breathing for him. Stiles tried to copy her actions but his thoughts must have gone to his dad again, because he went through two or three cycles of breathing before it picked up again.

"Liv-Livvy," he gasped out, his eyes boring into hers, panicked.

"Okay," that didn't work. "um, okay. Tell me five things you see in this room right now."

He gave her a bewildered look. "I-I can't."

"Yes, you can," she insisted as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Right now, Stiles. Please."

"O-Okay," he panted, his eyes quickly tracing the room. "Okay, u-um, my locker."

"Good, good. What else?"

"Y-You're wearing—you're wearing a blue shirt. Blue is pretty."

"Yeah, it is," Olivia smiled at him. "Okay, three more things. You're doing great, sweetcheeks.

"The, uh," his breathing was better but not totally okay yet. He gasped quickly and then continued, "the regional ch-championship trophy."

"That's great, Stiles. Two more."

Stiles eyes darted behind her, where the sinks were lined up on the wall. "The leaky faucet. It's, uh, it's the third one."

Olivia glanced behind her and smiled when she saw that he was right. "Good. One more," his breathing was much calmer now. The gasps were gone and each breath he took was less wheezy. "You're doing great, Stiles."

Stiles' eyes went back to her face, searching it intently. "You're wearing that lip balm you like," he said finally. "it's pink and it tastes like strawberries."

"Yeah," she gazed at him fondly. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, his breathing back to normal. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Stiles took the hand of hers that was on his face and kissed her knuckles. "How'd you know how to do that?"

"I, uh, I knew you had anxiety, so I looked up some methods that might help with panic attacks," Olivia answered him sheepishly. "I have a few more. You can name some colors or hold your breath, and you can even distract yourself with something funny that you like. Like for you, it'd be—"

Her rambling was cut off but Stiles pulling her in for a loving but passionate kiss. Of course, she returned the affection. She loved Stiles so much and she was very happy to know he was feeling better.

When he pulled away from the kiss and stared at her. And he was so damn cute, staring at her like she was the most wonderful person in the world. "You really did that?"

"Of course I did," she stroked his cheek again once she moved it back to his face. "I would do anything for you, I love you."

"I love you, too," Stiles pressed his lips to hers again and pulled away before she could react. "I love you so fucking much, Livvy. One day, after all this is over and we graduate, I'm gonna marry you. And then we'll go to college and get an apartment next to Scott, and we'll have however many dogs you want—because I know you secretly love them so much—and then we'll have a family and we'll—"

"Okay, okay, settle down there," Olivia giggled and gave him a bright smile. The only way she could describe how she felt at his words was that there were a hundred butterflies in her stomach who were just as overjoyed to hear him say that as she was. "We have to get your dad, Melissa, and Mr. Argent back first. We'll see about the rest then, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles nodded with a grin. After Olivia climbed to her feet, she brought her hand down for him to take. He took it gladly and she helped him up. "We should get to Ms. Morrell's office now, huh?"

"Yeah."

After leaving the locker room, they rushed down the hallway and stormed into Ms. Morrell's office. Ms. Morrell wasn't there at her desk like they thought she would be, but there was a student waiting for her. She looked kind of familiar, but Olivia just couldn't place her face at the moment.

"Are you here for Ms. Morrell?" Stiles asked her.

"No, I thought this was gym class," she snarked back at him.

"Okay, listen, we're not in the mood for unneeded sarcasm," Olivia put up her unfeeling mask she used for her classmates and the other students—and teachers—at the school. "Do you know where she is?"

"If I did, I wouldn't be waiting her for twenty minutes," the girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "So, how about you two lovebirds back out the door and wait your turn?"

"We're here for a session," Stiles told her.

"Well, I am, and I've got some serious issues to work on."

"Woah, hold on," Olivia studied the girl's face, finally realizing where she had seen her before. "You were at Heath's birthday party. Uh, it's Danielle, right?"

"We've had class together, but sure, I was the girl at Heath's birthday party," Danielle rolled her eyes. "I was his best friend and you and your cousin stopped hanging out with him. That's what Morrell and I have been working on three times a week."

"Wait, did you say that Morrell's twenty minutes late?" Stiles interjected.

Danielle nodded. "And I don't know why, either. She's always on time.

Stiles nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I've been seeing her since freshman year," he looked at Olivia. "She's never late...so, she must be missing."

Olivia gave him a knowing look. "What if we're not the only ones who think she knows something?" she mused. "Aiden wasn't answering Lydia, remember?"

Stiles nodded and glanced at the filing cabinet behind Ms. Morrell's desk. "Then let's find out what she knows," he knelt down in front of the filing cabinet and pulled out a lock-pick kit that Olivia had no idea he had. "You said Lydia's been seeing her since the start of the semester?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing?" Danielle asked, affronted, as she watched Stiles break into the cabinet and sift through the files. "Those files are private."

"We're looking for my cousin's file," Olivia told her. "She gave us permission."

Danielle didn't look impressed but she didn't stop them or go to tattle on them, either.

"Find it!" Stiles stood up and tossed Lydia's file onto the desk.

Olivia opened the file and went through the various papers that Ms. Morrell had collected on Lydia. There were no notes like there would be if Morrell was a normal guidance counselor. Instead, it was full of Lydia's drawings, each one of them a tree just like the ones that filled her notebook back at home.

"Wait, wait, stop," Stiles caught her hand as she went to pick up another paper. "Look at that."

The paper he had pointed to had the tree on it like the others. However, this one was different. It was upside down compared to the other ones, making the tree look more like roots, and at the bottom, it was labeled. In Ms. Morrell's writing, it said, 'Nemeton.'

"Oh, my God," Olivia breathed in realization. "It's the Nemeton. That's where she's keeping them. It has to be."

Stiles nodded in agreement. "That's where Derek brought Paige, right?" Olivia made a noise of confirmation as they rushed out of the office, leaving Danielle behind. "Okay, so—"

"Stilinski!" the agent from earlier, who Stiles had told her was Scott's father, shouted for him as he stomped down the hallway.

"Fuck," Stiles cursed under his breath. "All right, you should go to Derek and ask him about the Nemeton and its location."

"I will," Olivia glanced behind him and bit the inside of her cheek when she saw that Agent McCall was only a few feet away from them now. "Be careful."

"You too."

Olivia walked away as Stiles confronted Agent McCall and swiftly turned into a different hallway, the one where her locker was located. She didn't leave like Stiles wanted her to, she had a few phone calls to make.

She took a deep breath and dialed Dr. Deaton first.

-

-

"Did you know your dad's car is in the school parking lot and has been since last night?" Agent McCall asked him. He was sitting on Coach's desk while Stiles sat on one of the students' desks right across from him. He felt like he was in the worst detention he had ever experienced. Scratch that, Mr. Harris' detentions were the worst.

Stiles ducked his head, staring at his fingers and he nervously wringed them together. "No. What does that mean?"

"It means he's officially missing," Rafael told him. Stiles stayed quiet: Tell me something I don't know. "Stiles, why am I getting the feeling you know something that could help us find your dad?"

Stiles lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at his best friend's father. "If I did, why would I not tell you?"

Probably because you, nor the FBI, know anything about what it's really like in Beacon Hills. You don't know about the supernatural, you don't even know that your son is a werewolf, a fucking true alpha, he thought bitterly.

"If it meant helping your dad, why wouldn't you?"

Stiles gave him a look that clearly asked the agent why he was being so idiotic. "So, you're asking me to tell you what I wouldn't not tell you?"

"First, I have no idea what you just said," Rafael said calmly. "Second, how about you just help me help you?"

"Well, I don't know how to help you help me tell you something that would help you if I don't know it," even Stiles was confused about his words, but he stuck to them.

Rafael furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

Stiles sighed. "I don't know anything, okay? Can I just go?"

Rafael shook his head. "Where are your other friends?"

"You mean Scott?"

"I mean Scott," McCall took out his handy-dandy notebook and listed off all of Stiles' friends, excluding Olivia—he knew where she was—and including some that weren't his friends. "I mean Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, these twins Ethan and Aiden," he shut the notepad and put it back in his jacket. "I've been told your whole little clique didn't show up at school today."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I don't have a clique."

Especially not one with Ethan and Aiden and...Well, I guess Isaac's part of our pack of friends...

"Stiles, come on," Rafael sighed, wishing he would just say something. "There's been a pretty disturbing amount of violent activity in this county in the last month, several murders tied to this school. I don't know what's going on here, but it's serious."

Stiles ducked his head again. McCall didn't have to tell him about what was going on. Stiles knew more about it than he did.

"And hey, your dad is missing," Rafael caught his attention; he lifted his head but didn't say anything. "Fine. But I don't want you going home alone. You have someone you can stay with tonight?"

"He's with me," a new, familiar, voice spoke up. Stiles and Agent McCall both looked over to the door where Deaton was standing, Olivia behind him. "Come on, Stiles."

Stiles eagerly jumped off the desk he was sitting and threw Agent McCall another glare before following Olivia and Dr. Deaton out of the classroom.

-

-

Olivia, Stiles, Allison, Isaac, and Lydia had all gathered in the exam room at the animal clinic with Dr. Deaton. Lydia had gone to see Derek and Peter, at Olivia's insistence, and asked them about the Nemeton, but according to them, Talia had taken those memories from them. That left them with no new leads on Jennifer or a location of the Nemeton, and the sun had already set. They had twenty-four hours to figure everything out.

"It has to be on a telluric current," Stiles declared, leaning against the stainless-steel cart in the middle of the room. "or maybe even at the axis of two or where they all intersect..."

"We just know that Derek took Paige to die there," Olivia finished.

"My dad and Gerard were there once," Allison told everyone from next to Olivia. "but Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now."

"Yeah, mine either."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek, and comfortingly rubbed Allison's back with one hand and Stiles' back with the other. She didn't know if it was comforting but she wanted to show her support for them anyway.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac spoke up.

The five of them looked over to Dr. Deaton, who had been pacing with a thoughtful expression the whole time they spoke.

"There might be a way," Dr. Deaton said finally. "but it's dangerous. We're going to need Scott."

Olivia immediately set to work on finding Scott's location. After only two minutes—she was getting much better at locating her pack members—Stiles and Dr. Deaton went to go find him. While she and the others waited for them to bring Scott back with them, she pulled herself into her map and tried to find Sheriff Stilinski, Ms. McCall, and Mr. Argent.

The whole thing was trickier than expected but she didn't care. Knowing that she was most connected to Stiles, she started with his tether. First, she dived deep down into it—while trying not to disturb Stiles, where he and Deaton were—and stayed there for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling of it. She pictured Noah and Stiles together, using one of the memories in which she had gone over to their house for pizza one night so Noah could get to know her better. She focused on them and their bond. Although Stiles and his dad didn't look much alike, their personalities were damn near the same, with a little less sarcasm on Noah's side. They really loved each other, and each one was the last family that the other had.

Once she was comfortable with both Stiles and Noah, she moved onto Noah by himself. Something about Noah just screamed green to her, but that was nice. Green was warm and comforting and that fit him. And when she saw a faded green dot in front of her, she knew that it was him. The thing was, the dot was dull and blurry—she couldn't see him properly. She tried going further toward him but she couldn't move. Something was keeping her back.

She cursed under her breath as she opened her, realizing what was happening. Lydia, Allison, and Isaac were all looking at her expectantly, wanting to know if she got anything. "Jennifer," she scowled. "I think she's blocking me somehow."

"Then we will have to go through with the plan. It's our last choice," Dr. Deaton entered the exam room, followed by Stiles and Scott.

"Yeah, what exactly is this plan?" Lydia asked curiously. Dr. Deaton and Stiles had left before the former was able to explain the plan.

"Essentially, Scott, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for their parents," Deaton explained.

"They're going to die for them?" Olivia asked, furrowing their eyebrows. She wouldn't be able to handle that. Stiles was the love of her life, Allison was one of her best friends, and Scott was a friend to her as well. Three members of her pack, three people that she loved and cared about would be gone.

Stiles, it seemed, could read her mind. "He can bring us back," he assured her, crossing the room to pull her into his side. He glanced at Deaton to make sure, "You can bring us back, right?"

Dr. Deaton pulled a half-grimace. "You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?" everyone nodded. "If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds, but there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time."

"This kind of power is like a magnet. It attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill the pages of a bestiary with," he said seriously, finishing up. "It will draw them here, like a beacon."

Olivia wondered if the Nemeton was the reason that their town was named Beacon Hills in the first place. If it had been a long time since the Nemeton had power, it might have been. The Hales had always been a prominent family in Beacon Hills for over a century, so it was entirely possible if they had named the town themselves.

Stiles shrugged. "Doesn't sound any worse than anything we've already seen."

Deaton shook his head. "You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see."

"Is that it?" Allison asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"No, it will also have an effect on the three of you," Deaton answered her. "You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of darkness around your heart and permanent, like a scar."

"Like a tattoo," Scott mused thoughtfully.

Stiles, Scott, and Allison were allowed to leave the animal clinic to head back to their homes to grab a token that represented their parents. While they did that, Olivia, Lydia, Isaac, and Deaton got to work on setting things up for the ritual.

The set-up was much like the one that they used for Isaac's when they were trying to find Boyd and Erica. There were three large tubs this time and each one was filled to the brim with water, ice, and herbs that Dr. Deaton had mixed for them. While Lydia and Isaac continued working, Dr. Deaton pulled Olivia aside.

He told her that, unlike Isaac's ritual, she wouldn't be able to help with this one. When Olivia heard his explanation, she agreed. Because Stiles, Allison, and Scott would be dead—at the minimum for a few seconds—she wouldn't be in the best shape. Deaton even told her that she may be out of it for a period of time while they were gone, if they were gone for more than a few seconds or even minutes. Honestly, it scared Olivia. She felt the whole in her heart desperately when Boyd died. It was undoubtedly going to be worse when the ritual started.

When Stiles and Scott came back, followed shortly by Allison, Olivia went straight to Stiles and wrapped her arms around his waist. He had to know that she was nervous about the whole thing because he wrapped his arms around her, too, and whispered soothing words into her ears.

"All right," Dr. Deaton said once the tubs were ready to go. "What did you bring?"

Stiles unhooked one arm from around Olivia and dug his hand into his jacket pocket. "Um, I got by dad's badge," he told everyone, staring at it sadly. "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't need to look good if it has meaning," Deaton assured him.

Stiles nodded and pressed his lips together.

"Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac spoke up, looking at the token that Allison was holding.

Allison nodded. "My dad made it. It's a kind of ceremonial thing," she explained. "When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code."

"Scott?"

Scott held up a dainty watch. "My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital," he scoffed lightly. "She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked."

"Okay," Dr. Deaton started to explain what they needed to do. "the three of you will get in. Olivia, Lydia, and Isaac will each hold you down until you're essentially...Well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."

Olivia quickly looked up. "Did you say emotional tether?"

When Deaton nodded, Olivia and Stiles shared a knowing look. Stiles was the only one she told about her knew system of keeping track of her pack and how it worked much better than before. The fact that Deaton was mentioning an emotional tether like the ones she used couldn't be a coincidence.

Had she been led to start thinking of her attachments to the pack as tethers for a reason? The answer seemed to be yes. Olivia didn't know if she be freaked out or relieved that she was understanding her abilities better.

"Lydia," Deaton called out the redhead's name when she went to stand by Allison. "you go with Scott."

Olivia and Stiles shared another look, both of them shocked at the turn of events. Olivia looked back at her cousin with a questioning look but Lydia steadfastly ignored her as she went to take her place by a very surprised Scott.

Scott...and...Lydia? What was going on here?

They'd be cute together, though, Olivia admitted to herself.

Allison looked between one of her best friends and her former boyfriend, confused. "Are you sure?" she asked Deaton. "I mean, I have to go under, too. And Isaac—"

"Isaac will go with you," Dr. Deaton told her. "Olivia, you'll be with Stiles."

Well, that wasn't a shock. Isaac and Allison and Scott and Lydia, though? What a plot twist.

Before the ritual began, Olivia made sure to take Stiles aside for a second.

"If you stay dead, I'm gonna kill you," she warned Stiles, making him laugh through his nerves. "I'm completely serious, Stiles."

"I know you are," he smirked down at her. "It's gonna be fine, though. I love you, baby."

Olivia didn't object to the pet name. He was going to be dead for a few seconds, so she'd let it slide. "I love you, too, sweetcheeks."

They quickly kissed and Stiles placed an extra one on her temple, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. Olivia may be hard to read for other people, but it was easy for him to figure out what was going on in that stubborn head of hers.

They both made their way back into the exam room. Olivia squeezed Allison's hand meaningfully and smiled at Scott, wishing them a good luck without words. Then, they all lined up at their respective tubs.

Allison was the first one to step in, deeply inhaling at the freezing cold water. Scott got into his tub as well. Stiles looked back at Olivia before he got into his tub and she gave him the most reassuring smile that she could. It worked for him, though; he stepped into the tub fearlessly.

They were all having trouble breathing from the freezing cold water as they fully submerged themselves. A second later, Olivia took her place behind Stiles with her hands on his shivering shoulders; Lydia and Isaac did the same for Scott and Allison, respectively.

Teeth chattering, Stiles looked to his left to speak to Scott. "By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Tears slipped down Olivia's cheeks as she pressed down on Stiles' shoulder at Deaton told them to begin. Stiles kicked and struggled underneath the water, but she kept going, knowing that this was what he wanted. It was just a little heartbreaking to keep him under.

Stiles, Scott, and Allison all stilled at the same time. Olivia didn't even have to let go, she collapsed under the weight of their nonpermanent deaths, slipping into nothingness.

(Gif is not mine)

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 2: Twisted (Part 5)

Warnings: murder, rape, violence

Author notes: warnings are back and action as well! Enjoy!

I finished buttoning my shirt before quickly putting the requested black blazer on. My guns were loaded, placed in my shoulder holsters, and the badge attesting I was a security guard of the auction was pinned on my chest. I had successfully entered the staff as a henchman in charge of making sure there would be no trouble during the upcoming evening, and no one had even checked my background. For a business which saw countless of stolen paintings, valuable jewels and hardly captured slaves being sold every week, their security was quite loose. I had also made sure the business we were targeting would be present during the sell and, already, cages containing the girls they owned were stored among other goods. I could not help thinking I had been lucky to be sold, not by a brand, but by a small, worthless trafficker. At the very least, I did not bear the indelible mark of these loathsome companies on my skin.

"Fuyuko! There you are..." The chief of the security guards came toward me "I was looking for you. The guests are making themselves comfortable in the room, so the auction should start in no time. You'll be in charge of keeping an eye on the storage room, is that alright for you?"

"No problem." I nodded.

Without knowing it, this man had just made things easier for me. I listened to his encouragement with a polite smile, then pulled out a communication device out of my pocket as soon as he was gone. I put it on my ear and turned it on.

"I'm in. The auction will begin soon, stand by." I ordered my men.

"Roger, Ogawa-san...!"

"Taneda-kun..." I recognised his voice "You aren't supposed to answer... From this point on, quiet."

"Understood, Ogawa-san...!"

I sighed imperceptibly. Would he even be ready for my orders? Newbies, especially young ones, barely in their twenties, tended to believe the underworld was a world similar to what was described in novels or movies. The hero was dark, yet incredibly charismatic and surprisingly righteous, although he killed and was involved in all kinds of sordid businesses. Little did they know our world was highly idealised for the sake of entertainment, and very few of them remained in the organisation for more than a month. After witnessing horrors neither novelists nor producers would imagine, they usually quit, disillusioned, and I believed it was for the best. People who were not ready to face violence could not belong to the Port Mafia, as willing as they were. Sometimes, it amused me to notice I was more mature about committing crimes than people older than me, although it did make me question my sanity. Alas, having joined the organisation out of free will and after having committed murder, I could not state for sure I was not mentally ill. Somewhere, deep inside my heart, slept a dangerous monster. Merciless, cruel, which could ravage the world around itself in a blink, that creature was quite different from the ones hiding under children's beds to scare them. It was that thing that led me to kill, to shed blood and to survive in the Port Mafia without an ounce of regret. It was that thing that I strived to control, not to become a mad beast needing to be held down by a leash. If it were to ever wake up, the monster would not calm down until its bloodlust was satisfied.

Quietly, I kneeled next to one of the cages and started my preparations. It was impossible for our men to enter the warehouse used by the slave trading company as their headquarters due to its location. Our only option was thus to attack them from the inside. However, any application to join their organisation would result in a troublesome background investigation, which would quickly reveal the newcomer was an infiltrated man from the Port Mafia. The young girls stared at me in absolute fright as I implanted a discreet yet extremely powerful explosive device inside the cage. When they would take these back, they would destroy their business by themselves. The electronic bomb was under the control of a remote I owned. Once the cage would be inside the warehouse, I would blow it up.

"... Why...?" One of the girls muttered, shaking from cold and fear.

"I have nothing against you all..." I assured "But the ones selling you... They deceived powerful people whom I work for. That's all there is to it. I advise you to keep quiet if you desire to keep living for now. The auctions have just begun, perhaps will you be lucky and find an owner?"

"Are you heartless...?" She held onto the bars of the cage, desperate "How could you ask me to choose between giving up my life and dying...?"

"Those are the only choices you have..." I sighed slightly "I may seem cruel, but I am only doing my job... I didn't have much choice either..."

"... Can't you at least free us...?" She murmured.

"If I do so, I will fail my mission. I'm sorry, there is nothing I can do." I shook my head.

"I see... You're a monster..." She cursed softly "Go to hell...! Monster..."

I did not try to defend myself. After all, she was right. I was no better than a merciless monster obeying the orders of its master. I had no empathy, no compassion, and despite having been in the same situation as the girl, I could not feel an ounce of sympathy towards her. I was absolutely unfazed in front of her pain.

"I am, indeed." I agreed with her "I think it's about time your sellers come to get you. I count on your silence."

With a slight smirk, I put a finger onto my lips to make her understand my point, before I walked farther from the cage. I had barely turned around that the door toward the stage opened onto two strong built men, who, effortlessly, pushed the jail out of the storage room. One of them smiled at me, waving.

"Good work, Fuyuko-san!"

I answered his smile with a nod before getting back to my patrol. I waited for them to be out to turn on my earphone.

"Make sure the cages do go back to the warehouse." I ordered before cutting communication.

My job there was over. If no one discovered the bomb, and if everything went according to my plan, the slave trading company would just be a distant memory in the morning. To perfectly complete my cover, I would have to finish the job and keep patrolling along the goods for another hour while waiting for the signal to push the button and make the bomb explode. The only thing left would be writing the report, then the case would be closed. I hoped it would go as smoothly as predicted. Maybe then would I be gifted some sleep, when Dazai-san would come back.

A distinct beeping sound echoed in my ear, indicating someone was trying to contact me. I answered.

"Ogawa-san, the vehicle departed. We are following them from afar." Taneda-kun informed me.

"Good." I hummed "Don't get too close, or they'll find you. Leave the car, then sneak closer when you arrive at the harbour."

"Yes, Ogawa-san."

I decided to leave my earplug on, so I could intervene to give orders if anything happened to them. The following minutes were incredibly tense as I heard one of them getting out of the car to tail our enemies.

"The cage is inside." I was told.

"Get away." I said simply.

Discreetly, I grabbed the remote in my pocket, and pressed the button to turn the bomb on. Once. Twice. I could not hear the peculiar sound of explosive.

"There is a problem." I clicked my tongue.

"Nothing happened... What do we do...?" The newbie panicked.

"For now, just —"

His scream pierced my eardrum, cutting my sentence and making me freeze on the spot. We had been discovered... How? As I thought about a potential mistake, I did not hear anyone approaching me from behind. I was grabbed harshly and thrown toward the ground. On my back, a foot made sure I would not escape.

"So here is the mastermind behind this clumsy attack. Fuyuko, is that right?"

I gritted my teeth and moved my head to give a positive answer. It was not my real name, but exposing my identity could reveal my belonging to the Port Mafia, and I was more afraid to be punished for spilling out information about the organisation than I was about dying.

"I really wonder what kind of grudge you could hold against our mighty organisation... But you were careless. When you put a bomb on a cage full of slaves, you should expect one of them could talk...~" He pressed harder, making me gasp in pain.

In front of me, the girl I had talked to earlier kneeled in front of me, a contemptuous smile on her face. She who earlier had been so frightened stood in front of me, confident and superior.

"You see, Fuyuko-san... I followed your advice." She giggled "I chose life, and offered myself to that member of the company... I gave him information, and, in exchange, he freed me. Isn't that wonderful~?"

I glanced at her.

"You are a fool." I articulated "Do you think that brute would free you...? How naive you are... You only sold yourself... Pitiful..."

"You're the one who's pitiful, right now." She defended "Besides, I did that out of my own volition. I am a free being, don't you understand?"

"You are not free when you willingly put yourself under someone else's orders... I know what I am saying..." I mumbled.

"Whatever~" The man suddenly yanked me up to slam me against an empty cage nearby "Let's lock you up for now, we'll discuss your fate after...~"

I found myself behind the bars, unable to do anything to get out of the situation. Helpless, I let myself slump down and brought my knees to my chest. I had failed. My men had died. I would perhaps even be killed. Dazai-san would never congratulate me for completing that mission... I was such a disappointment...

"W-What are you doing...?" I heard the girl yelp, making me raise my eyes slowly.

"You gave yourself to me~" Her new partner groped her chest shamelessly "So I'll take you now~"

"N-No...! Wait —"

Maybe luck had not completely left my side, after all. The lock of the cage was not really elaborate, and, unless the man appeared to be impotent, I could easily pick it up while they were engaged in whatever heated activities they were going to start. I detached my pin from my sleeve, where I hid it, and waited. He pushed her down. I waited. He sucked at her skin. I waited. He removed her clothes. I waited still. Finally, he violated her, and I could start escaping. The sound made by the lock was covered by her moans and cries — either of pain or pleasure, they were hard to differentiate — and I made my way out. Quietly, I sneaked toward the bag I had brought with me to reach for my silencer. Without it, I could not use my guns without the possibility of someone witnessing me, but now... I approached the man from behind. Too engrossed by his blissful experience, he did not hear me, and I could point the barrel to his head. Under him, the poor girl's eyes widened in fear, but she did not have time to warn him. With a smirk, I pulled the trigger, ending his life.

"H-How...?" She sobbed, covering herself in shame.

"It is a chance that this man was dumb... In fact, thank you for offering yourself to him. You made a pretty good distraction~" I chuckled.

"It was a mistake...!" She recognised "I didn't think... I thought..."

"I have been in your stead." I revealed "But I can't say I empathise with you. You were stupid enough to put yourself in that situation, so you can only blame yourself."

"What are you going to do to me...?"

"Isn't it obvious....?" I hummed, pointing my gun toward her.

She screamed, and tried to run away, but she was stuck under the man's corpse and could not move an inch. Mercilessly, I shot a bullet into her skull, stopping her definitely. Although I had warned her, she had still chosen such a useless path... I sighed and headed out of the basement where the illegal auction was held. In my bag, there was still an inactivated bomb I could use to blow their warehouse. I could not fail anymore. If I were to, it would be better to throw myself off of a building before morning came.

When I arrived at the harbour, I clenched my fists in front of the sight I was given to see. My men had all been shot. We had been ambushed, all because of that slave girl who had not been capable of keeping quiet. None of them had been spared... Taneda-kun... Anger boiled inside my chest, and I desired only to break into the room and kill them, one by one, with the sole power of my guns, but it was impossible. I would end up meaninglessly losing my life. I sighed, deeply, and pulled out a teddy bear I had bought on the way. Swiftly, I opened a sewing on its back and shoved the small bomb inside, before closing it again. That would have to do. From what I had seen, there was a chance most of them were dimwits, and the surprise effect from the plush animal would perhaps last long enough for me to press the cursed button of my remote. I took a self-made sling to throw the explosive through the opened door of the warehouse, and waited. Inside, I had added a communication device as well, which I had picked from Taneda-kun's corpse. I would be able to hear their every word...

"What the f*ck is this...?" One grumbled, getting closer.

"A teddy? What the goddamn heck?"

Soon enough, they all gathered around the strange plush. No one even had the idea of tossing it away. Alone, I laughed at their misfortune and triggered the bomb. As the first rays of sun appeared behind the horizon, the warehouse exploded and collapsed in the water of the port, nothing to be left behind. I had been warned that the bomb was extremely powerful, but that was beyond my expectation.

"It is a shame you can't see it, Taneda-kun..." I whispered, patting his lifeless shoulder next to me "It worked out, in the end... Thank you..."

I could not stay there too much, or I would be caught by the police, alerted by the noise. At the very least, my subordinates had been avenged.

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[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Week 38 Roundup, Part Three of Four!

THE ROUNDUP CONTINUES!  There are masterposts still filtering in, and those all need to be submitted by the 7th.

Title: A Letter To The Dead Collaborator: fightingforcreativity Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C1 - Presumed Dead Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: talk about a presumed dead person Summary: Bucky’s therapist insists that, in order to feel better, Bucky should write Tony one last letter. So he tries.

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Title: Weapons Maintenance Collaborator: levicastho for MarvelCollabCupid Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - Hair braiding Ship: stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: art, Guns   Summary: “Heh. Looks like we’re both doing weapons maintenance.” “…Bucky, sweetheart, we’ve talked about this. You aren’t a-” “Oh for Christ’s sake, it was a joke, Steve! Let me be funny!”

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Title: Happy Golden Daze (The Shift) Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: Tumblr Square Filled: C4 - Color Blind Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: canon divergence, pre-serum Steve Rogers, protective Bucky Barnes, mutual masturbation, friends to lovers Summary: After a long night of work at the docks, Bucky heads home to make sure the apartment he shares with his best friend Steve isn’t too cold. His early arrival means Steve wasn’t expecting him, and that’s why Bucky has front row seats to a show he never expected to see. He’s shocked to find he really likes it. Word Count: 2832

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Title: Bucky’s Thighs Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - thighs Ship: none/pick your own Rating: Gen Major Tags: drabble, Bucky’s thighs Summary: Bucky’s favorite activity he uses his thighs for. Word Count: 100

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Title: Where We're going We Don't Need... Pym Particles Collaborator: Starjargon Link: AO3 Square Filled: B4 - AU: Adventurers/Explorers Ship: Bucky Barnes & Eliot Spencer; Marty McFly & “Doc” Emmet Brown, Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter Rating: Gen Major Tags: crossovers Summary: Bucky has a lot of plans for that time-travelling DeLorean. Word Count: 1014

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Title: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot Collaborator: seibelsays Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y4 - Running Away Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Gen Major Tags: New Year's Eve, Post-Break Up, Makeup Summary: This year, New Year’s Eve was just another night. No party, no midnight kiss. Just another night. Part 3 of the New Year’s Eve series Word Count: 2681

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Title: The Muse’s Mark Collaborator: fightingforcreativity Link: Tumblr Square Filled: B5 - Bucky/Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: sketch art (showing naked chest and tiny part of the genitals), WinterIron, Artist Bucky, Muse Tony, One night stand, finding each other again Summary: Everything that was left of his one night stand was a haunting memory of a mole, just high enough to be seen in a locker room, but low enough to incite exploring. Word Count: 770

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Title: Unshackled - Chapter 15 Collaborator: LiraelClayr007 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y1 - First time Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: enemies to lovers, amnesia, mind control, hallucinations Summary: “How do you feel now?” “Hungry,” Clint says immediately. “Famished. Like I haven’t eaten in a month. Let’s order pizza.” Chuckling, James says, “We’ll get food, I promise. But let’s get back to you, alright? Feel anything besides hunger?” Clint takes a minute to think about that. Without sitting up he tests his muscles, flexing and relaxing, stretching and twisting. “I feel great, actually. Throat’s a little sore, but it’s not so bad. Pain’s almost gone, actually. How long was I out?” His mind is racing. He’s underselling it, he feels fantastic. He wants to get up and jump and run. He wants to get his hands on a bow. He wants to– Word Count: 60,177

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Title: Art: Picking Up, Undercover Collaborator: velociraptorerin-art for MarvelCollabCupid Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Undercover In A Gay Bar Ship: Bucky/Cable Rating: Teen Major Tags: art Summary: When the assignment is to pick up the person-of-interest in a bar, it's always best to lay it on thick, right? Oh, and a crop top helps.

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Title: An Offer He Can’t Refuse Collaborator: 27dragons Link: AO3 Square Filled: B1 - AU: Office/Corporate Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: alternate universe - office/corporate, hostile takeover, business negotiation Summary: Stark Enterprises had acquired Hydra Technologies almost two months ago in an exceptionally hostile takeover, and while most of the senior leadership had been dumped immediately -- and good riddance -- the main working force had been kept on for the time being to be “evaluated”, whatever that meant. But apparently that time had run out. Stark himself was onsite today for some kind of corporate meeting, and everyone seemed certain that while he was here, he’d be announcing a whole stack of layoffs. Bucky expected he’d be among them. Word Count: 1179

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Title: The Masseur and the Assassin - Chapter 2 Collaborator: buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - Free Space Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: assassin, guilt, massage, happy ending, porn with feelings Summary: Bucky’s waited two long weeks, but he’s back at Asgard and ready for a repeat session with Steve. It can’t possibly be better than the initial one, right? Except it absolutely, definitely, really, positively is. Word Count: 3115

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Title: Movie night Collaborator: Menatiera Link: Tumblr Square Filled: U5 - Movie Night Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Moodboard and drabble Summary: Moodboard and drabble (100 words exactly) ficlet to accompany it. Word Count: 100

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Title: Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y4 - KINK: Pornstar/Rentboy/Sex Worker Ship: WinterIron, Stucky, eventual Stuckony? Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Camboy, Identity Porn, Dildo Play Summary: Bucky's little camboy sidegig - where he plays 'Special Agent Jay' -- gets him attention from an unexpected quarter. Word Count: 1431

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Title: Mirrors - Chapter 1 Collaborators: dreadlockholiday and HopelessGeek (wuzzy90) for MarvelCollabCupid Link: AO3 Squares Filled: C1- Steve Rogers  C4 - Role Reversal Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: fix-it, time travel, explicit sexual content Summary: The man standing a few feet in front of him is holding a heavy gun in his hand, the barrel aimed right between Bucky's eyes. The weapon doesn't shake, doesn't waver; it's ramrod straight just like the arm that's holding it. A metal arm, Bucky notices. His blood grows cold just like the ice in those unforgiving eyes staring at him. "Steve?" – All that glitters is not gold; sometimes it's just a glowy capsule that projects you into a completely different dimension. Word Count: 8457

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Title: Competitive Edge Collaborator: fightingforcreativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - KINK: Edging Ship: KINK: Edging  Rating: Explicit Major Tags: competitive Bucky, competitive Steve, Kink: edging as competition, anal plug, urethra plug with cock cage, a lot of talking, weird set of rules for the competition Summary: Between Bucky and Steve, everything became a competition, even something like their discovering of kinks. Tony is just there to give some advice. Word Count: 723

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Title: Hard to believe it (It’s not over tonight) Collaborator: abitnotgoodiebag Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Last Chance Ship: BuckySam Rating: Teen Major Tags: oblivious Bucky Barnes Summary: Sharon really cannot believe how stupid these two can be. or Three times sam took Bucky out and one time Bucky took Sam out. Word Count: 14,961

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Title: Tattoos of a life Collaborator: cpt-winniethepooh Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y2 - Tattoo Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: mentions of past abuse Summary: Bucky decided to get tattoos for several reasons: he wanted to show that he was fully in control of his body (fuck you, HYDRA) while ensuring that his memories and his identity would need to be cut off with his skin next time (FUCK YOU, HYDRA; not that there would be a next time. Never again). He also wanted to showcase that he and Steve belonged to each other, and nobody could take that away, and also wanted to display Steve’s art on himself, because he was a sappy old man in love and because he could. So when Tony discovered an ink that could withstand the superserum, he decided to mark his skin up but not with scars this time. He got a wolf, half-realistic, half-made up of geometric shapes to represent his years as a Howling Commando, his link to Wakanda, and how he put himself back together after everything, on his ribs and abdomen. Over his heart, he got a pair of dog-tags, one with his own details and one with Steve’s, because that’s where they belonged. On the other side of his chest, close to his right shoulder, he got a tree of life with rainbow colors: he believed in revival, in thriving despite hardships, and he wanted a touch of his queer identity to be shown too in the colors. Over his right shoulder, paralell to the red star on his metal arm, he got Steve’s shield. Underneath that ran an arrow with a compass, because he’d always find his way back to Steve, no matter what. On the outside of his lower arm ran the Brooklyn city highlight that Bucky remembered from before everything, from the docks where he and Steve used to meet up around dusk. On the inside he had “Til the end of the line” in Steve’s handwriting, and then, on his wrist, “won’t forget” - because he wouldn’t, never again. He had a small star on the skin between his thumb and pointing finger, and when he and Steve got married, a black line around his ring finger to match Steve’s. And when he joined the Avengers, the large, stylistic A fit perfectly over his elbow. 

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Title: The Difference Between Before And Now Collaborator: Link: AO3 Square Filled: U2 - Image of Bucky and Tony in Bucky's garage while Tony works on the arm and Alpine plays in the background Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Angst, kinda flashback to Hydra time, pre-relationship, friends, Alpine to the rescue Summary: The noises made whenever Bucky's arm was being inspected or repaired had always been the same. Was it with Hydra or with Tony. Thankfully there are the small things that make him remember that he's living in the now and not the before. Word Count: 742

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Title: The Safety off the Gun Collaborator: starjargon Link: AO3 Square Filled: U2 - Yoga/T'ai Chi Ship: Bucky Barnes & Eliot Spencer Rating: Gen Major Tags: crossovers Summary: Bucky has a few lessons to teach about self-control. They may even be more important than the lessons Wolverine gives. Word Count: 1463

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Title: Unintended Collaborator: BookDragon13 Link: Tumblr Square Filled: Y2 - Forced Marriage Ship: Bucky/Reader Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard, royalty Summary: your gift to Bucky has unknown consequences Word Count: 1298

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Title: Want to Dive Into Your Ocean Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: C1 - Shipwrecked Ship: Stucky Rating: Gen Major Tags: No Powers AU, Historical AU, mer!Bucky Summary: In an attempt to warn his merfolk friend about a bounty being placed on his head, Steve finds himself shipwrecked and injured. Thankfully, he’s not alone. Word Count: 465

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Title: Lazy Mornings in Bed Collaborator: Gavilan Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y3 - Nose Kisses Ship: Gen Rating: WinterHawk Major Tags: fluff, domesticity, licking Summary: Bucky loves his boyfriend. Word Count: 100

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Title: The Difference Between Before And Now Collaborator: fightingforcreativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: U2 - Image of Bucky and Tony in Bucky's garage while Tony works on the arm and Alpine plays in the background Ship: WinterIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Angst, kinda flashback to Hydra time, pre-relationship, friends, Alpine to the rescue Summary: The noises made whenever Bucky's arm was being inspected or repaired had always been the same. Was it with Hydra or with Tony. Thankfully there are the small things that make him remember that he's living in the now and not the before. Word Count: 742

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Title: She Brushes Her Hand Through His Hair Collaborator: Gavilan Link: AO3 Square Filled: Y5 - hair braiding Ship: Bucky & Natasha Rating: Gen Major Tags: fluff, slight gender feels, friendship, hair Summary: Bucky's hair is an awkward length. Natasha helps. Word Count: 252