#and i thought they'd drove off into the alley from there

[w1cked-w1tch]

Love a good nightmare.

[those-late-night-feels]

Sweet Surrender

Summary: Joel is there to protect you & a bond grows. Boston QZ, no Tess/Ellie.

Warnings: 18+ only. Attempted rape (not Joel), smut.

AN: Apologies to my Loki fan-fam. This one has been rolling around in my head for a while and I had to write it down.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The world had sometimes been a dangerous place before the outbreak. Now, danger was the norm. You couldn't turn a corner without facing it. Cordyceps, thieves, rapists, murderers–in the end, we were destined to turn into one of them. There was no such thing as living pure and good these days. Those people were dead, and everyone else had blood on their hands.

The QZ maintained order as much as possible, although even those who were expected to protect had their hands dipped in nefarious affairs. But survival was the name of the game, and we all tried our best.

Survival meant long hours as a cook for the QZ's cafeteria, learning how to stretch food to feed those remaining, learning how to ration, learning to keep your head down.

Another end to the typical 10-hour shift and the sun had just begun its descent. Untying the greasy apron to hang on the hook until tomorrow, the cellar keys were grabbed to store the remaining ingredients not used–nothing was to be wasted.

"Hey, I'm heading down." The burly security guard nodded quietly, watching while you carried the random stockpile of long-expired sugar, dried spices, garden vegetables, and tins. The cellar was cold and dark, well sealed to hopefully prevent rodents. Items were shelved and inventory checked, making sure nothing had been tampered or was rotting.

The door to the cellar creaked and then clicked shut, making you turn.

"Hello?" you called out, pulse quickening. It was unlikely that a Cordyseyps would make it into the QZ, but not impossible.

From the shadows, the security guard emerged. But, what at first was a sense of relief quickly turned to dread as his large hand covered your mouth and a sharp knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't scream and you don't die. Got it?" Confused, you trembled beneath his hand, your mind going blank. "Got it?"

Your head nodded slowly and he gave a sinister smile. The knife dragged painfully downward to your shirt, cutting it open. His other hand to the button of his pants as they popped open with a grunt.

"So fuckin' pretty. Gonna make you feel real good in a minute," he rasped and your eyes averted to the side, away from his receding hairline and crooked teeth, stomach clenching in disgust. His heavy, greedy form pushed against you, attempting to pin you against the wall a few feet away.

Hand reaching out, you blindly felt for anything as your pants were roughly tugged. Only a few seconds until they'd be ripped off. Fingers grazed plastic jars, bags, boxes too large, glass. In the chaos of fumbling hands and zippers opening, your hand latched onto a glass bottle and drove it down to his head with a thud.

He jolted in shock at the impact, the knife in his hand slicing open your forearm. A second blow to the head, a sickening crack of glass on bone, and then you bolted toward the exit in a panic, blood running down your arm. Was that yours or his?

You burst through the door to the evening chill and collided into the arms of a firm brick wall of a man. Just your luck to run from the arms of one man and into the arms of another.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Joel had sometimes wondered if a wanderer would be better off running into a Cordyceps or him. Who was the bigger monster? Both had been on the receiving end of screams and fear. Both were just trying to survive.

He hadn't had those thoughts for a few weeks, but he carried a reputation around town. Stares were ignored and rumors grew, but he didn't correct anyone. The more he was feared, the better.

Walking through midtown, another shift of burning the infected in the books, he looked forward to reclining on the couch and nursing a glass of whiskey. A door down the alley burst open and a small shaken frame collided into him. He had almost been as startled as you, wild-eyed, bloody, and trembling in his arms. Cheeks flushed, lip bleeding, shirt torn open. Damn, what kind of mess had she gotten herself in?

A guard appeared abruptly from the door and stopped short when he saw Joel. "Hold her," he yelled, slightly out of breath. "She needs to be detained."

He started towards you, pulling out zip ties, and Joel felt your grip on his shirt tighten.

"Why's she being detained?" Joel asked, calm and nonchalant, but he could feel your body trembling.

"That's none of your business."

Joel raised an eyebrow, putting a protective hand on your shoulder. He may not run this town, but he was typically given more respect than that by a guard. "Seems like it is my business now that I'm involved."

The guard's jaw flexed, considering Joel. "She assaulted a guard and resisted arrest for theft."

Joel looked from you to the guard, your eyes pleading with this stranger. Don't let me go with him. "This little thing assaulted you?"

The guard clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes at Joel. "And resisted arrest for theft."

Joel nodded, as if understanding clearly. "Did she also unzip your pants?"

The guard's face reddened, pulling the zipper up. "Hand her over."

Joel sighed. Just once, he'd like to have a day where there wasn't shit for him to clean up. "Listen, you had your little fun. But if you think she's going anywhere with you, you've got another thing comin'. It's time for you to leave before things get messy."

"Is that a threat?" he growled.

"No, it's a fact."

There was silence, Joel staring down the guard, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The guard looked between you and a man who might actually kill him.

"Fuckin' cunt," he mumbled, and spit on the ground at Joel's feet. Joel didn't move a muscle until the guard turned the corner, only then releasing his grip on you.

"Y'alright?" he asked.

You nodded out of habit, pulling your torn shirt over your chest in embarrassment. Was anyone alright these days?

Joel removed his flannel–a thin t-shirt underneath–and handed it to you, consciously trying his best not to stare at your lacy bra-clad breasts. It hadn't been that long since he'd seen a naked woman, but when was the last time that he'd seen one in something like that? Nowadays, everyone survived being practical–long lasting clothes, shelf stable foods, nothing frivolous.

You pulled his shirt on while whispering a thanks, careful to slip your cut arm through with a grimace.

"That could use some tending to," he said, looking down at the bloodied arm. "I'm just down here, can patch you up real quick."

No words came out when your mouth opened. You didn't know him. How could you kindly say that you didn't want to risk being assaulted twice in one day?

Noticing your hesitation, he rubbed his head in thought. "Or, I could get my med kit and bring it down. You can wait outside."

You nodded with a thankful smile and followed him to the gray brick building, one of the designated housing units within the QZ. He came back a few minutes later, a first aid kit tucked under his arm and a bottle of unlabeled alcohol in his hand.

"Where'd you get that?" you asked, medical supplies being hard to come by.

"Where does anyone get anything these days?" he replied cheekily.

Arm extended, his calloused hands gently brushed along your skin as he tipped the bottle to the wound, causing you to suck through your teeth in pain.

"Only hurts for a moment," he said, wiping away the excess blood. He was careful with you, slow to clean the wound, his dark eyes focused on tending to your arm.

"Don't think you'll need to be stitched up," he mumbled, placing a clean cloth over the wound, then wrapping it snugly with a roll of medical tape. "Good as new," he said when he was finished.

"What do I owe ya', doc?" you asked, examining your bandaged arm. He gave a slight smirk at the nickname, pulling you to your feet, his touch lingering for a moment before shoving his hand in his pocket. "It's on the house."

"Thank you…"

He gave you his name and you offered yours. The sky was in shades of pink and gray, the sun long since settled past the horizon.

"Let's get you back to your place before curfew."

You led the way, Joel striding with a casual gait next to you. Turning the corner on the block, you stopped in front of the steps to your building. "This is me."

You started to unbutton the flannel shirt to give back to him, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Looks better on you anyways."

Blushing in response, you pulled the shirt down. "Make sure you keep that wound clean and change the bandage in the mornin'."

"Yes doc." You smiled at him and were about to turn towards the door.

"Here," he said, pressing a small pocket knife into your palm. You turned it over in your hand, the smooth wooden handle worn down from years of use.

"I… I don't need that."

"Yes. You do." The way he said it was like it was final. The knife was pocketed and you looked up into his dark eyes, his forehead creased.

"Thanks. Goodnight Joel," you said, and he stood in front of your building until you were out of sight, safe for the night.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It had been more than a week since the incident. The thought of not returning to work had crossed your mind, but no asshole was going to have that kind of power over you. Walking through the cafeteria door with your head held high and Joel's knife tucked away in your pocket, you discovered a new guard stationed. He stood watch at the front and nodded his head in your direction when he caught you staring.

Had the other guard been repositioned to a new post? Had Joel reported him? Either way, he wasn't worth a second thought, and you went about the day a little happier.

At the end of another long shift, your hands ached from peeling a bin of potatoes and your hair was coated in flour. Those long ago days of standing aimlessly under a hot shower were a distant memory, but sometimes you still daydreamed about it. How long had it been since you'd taken a proper shower, instead of the warmed up sponge baths you were all accustomed to now? Memories of those daily luxuries clouded your mind when you spotted Joel across the street.

"Hey doc," you said with a smile, crossing to meet him. To the average observer, Joel seemed to have a scowl, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up when he spotted you.

"How's the arm?"

You stretched it out, the same bandage wrapped around with clean cloth. "Sore, but healing."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm headed to the cafeteria. You hungry?"

You crinkled up your nose. "Hungry, yes. But there's no way I'm stepping back in that building after a 10-hour shift. Come with me."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know of somewhere else to get food?"

"You'll see."

Your apartment was a small studio–a bed, a table, a few chairs. In exchange for housing, you worked wherever there was a need. Knick knacks and artwork decorated window sills and walls. Joel wondered what was yours and what had been here before the outbreak.

"Make yourself at home," you said as your key clanged on the counter. Dried pasta and a tin of tomato sauce were pulled from a cupboard and set on the counter.

"Where'd you find that?" he asked, knowing everything was rationed and outside food was hard to come by.

"You have your secrets and I have mine," you said with a wink.

"So," you began, filling a pot with water and setting it to boil on the stove while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye. "I'm guessing you weren't a doctor…before..."

You trailed off and he shook his head, casually taking in the minimal decor, a small collection of books on one shelf, some plants you managed to dig up and repot on the window sills. "Construction," he said simply, picking up a brain teaser puzzle from the table and fiddling with the metal hooks.

"How long have you been in Boston?" he asked, watching as you pulled some spices from a high shelf, your shirt riding up when you reached. He turned his head in an attempt to focus on the brain teaser and hope you hadn't caught his stare.

"Few months now." Dried pasta was poured into the boiling water, watching as it swirled around with your wooden spoon. "My last QZ… it wasn't safe. A few of us snuck out. We'd heard Boston might be better."

You almost said it like it was a question, but Joel knew the answer. He'd seen his share of shit going down in Boston; hell, he'd sometimes been apart of it.

"Anyway, thank you for your help the other day. I don't want you to think I'm some damsel in distress, but… I'm grateful you were there."

And it was true, you didn't want him thinking you were helpless. But it felt so good to have someone protect you for once.

He shook his head. "Anyone who's survived this long I wouldn't consider to be a damsel in distress."

The sad attempt at a spaghetti marinara was placed in front of him. "Well, it's no Olive Garden, but…"

"It's perfect," he said, looking between you and the large plate. Timidly, you handed him one of the two forks and sat opposite of him, ready to dig in.

You and he ate in a semi-comfortable silence, occasionally chatting about the going-ons of the QZ. It was nice to have someone around, without needing to give a life story.

Studying him while he ate, you noticed a collection of scars on his arms and face, new wounds on his hands that were bruised and slowly scabbing over. But for all the marks that decorated his body, the scowl that he carried around with him, you felt comfortable in his presence, an inkling that he wouldn't hurt you.

After dinner, you walked him to the door and he paused in the frame, towering over you. He studied the flecks in your eyes and you smiled nervously.

There was something about you that he hadn't felt in a long time, like he needed to protect you from every fucker in this world. His stare made something twist inside you and looking down, you reached for his palm. He looked down at your touch, bringing the metal brain teaser between you.

"Figured I should trade you something for the knife. Let me know if you solve this one," you said, telling him good night and falling asleep in his flannel shirt.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I'm telling you, he saw it with his own eyes."

The kitchen crew huddled around as you walked in, tying the worn black apron around your waist.

"What are we talking about?" you asked the group, grabbing a bin of apples picked recently.

"Rob's roommate went on a patrol last night. He ran into one of the guards who had turned into a cordyceps."

You nodded, grabbing a knife from the drawer, slicing the apple in two. "Ok, that's nothing new."

"Yeah, but they found him tied to a tree."

Knife paused mid-cut, you lifted your head. "What?"

"The guy was tied up, like hands bound, feet tied, gagged, all tied up like someone left him there."

A cold chill slowly crept up your spine, "Who was it?"

They all shrugged their shoulders, no one giving a confirmed response, only speculations mumbled amongst themselves. Your heart pounded, stomach in knots. It couldn't be…. Could it?

When your shift was done, you raced to the gray brick building. Six stories high and you had no idea which apartment was his. Shit!

You had half a mind to just start knocking on every door. Pacing back and forth, your name was called and you looked up to see Joel walking toward you like an answer to a prayer.

"What are you–"

"I need to talk to you," you interrupted, coming up to him abruptly, eyes fierce. He could sense you were trying to control the quiver in your voice and raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Everything okay?"

You shook your head. "Not here."

He took you up to his apartment, holding the door as you walked in. The room was small, dark, and cold, the small brain teaser sitting on the counter.

"You okay?" he asked, closing the door behind you, a look of concern on his face.

Ignoring his inquiry, you turned on your heel to face him. "Did you kill him?"

It was demanding, accusational, harsher than you had meant. He stared at you quietly and your pulse thumped in your neck.

This world was difficult to survive in, and you'd scraped your way through it on your own wits and a lot of luck. There had been friends, family, acquaintances that were less than trustworthy, and most of them were either gone or dead. And here was this man you barely knew who came out of nowhere to protect you. It threw you off balance.

"What are you talking ab-"

"No Joel," you said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't do that. Don't play dumb with me. That guard, did you kill him? Tell me the truth."

He studied you, this small fiery force that looked scared but put up a front. How had she survived this long, he wondered.

"Alright," he began slowly, "you want the truth? The truth is after I took you home, I saw him lingering around your building. I watched him, talking to the other guards, studying the building, pointing to your window. If I hadn't done what I did, he would have raped and killed you, and then probably come after me out of spite."

Stunned by his answer, you shook your head in disbelief. "You don't know that Joel. I didn't… I didn't ask you to do that!"

The guilt of this somehow being your fault weighed on you. There'd been so many deaths, so many infected, it just seemed like everyone was ticking away until there'd be no one left. He absentmindedly placed a hand on your arm in an attempt to calm you.

"Hey, hey," he said your name, pulling your eyes to his. "This isn't your fault. This isn't on you. He made his choices. That's on him, not on you."

You interjected–but, maybe I should have–but he pressed on, sternly. "Listen to me. If I hadn't done what I'd done, you wouldn't be standing here right now. It was either you or him, and I'd be damned if it was him." His tone softened. An orange glow emanated through the window behind him, curfew coming in a couple hours. "I know people like that. They'll prey on you, and you're too sweet to see it."

Joel didn't care for much of anything in this world. But the line in his forehead told you that somehow he cared for you.

"You could have been killed, Joel," you said shakily. "They could still hang you if they found out."

His jaw flexed. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant not letting that fucker touch you."

Something inside you sparked at his words and, without thinking, a hand reached up to take hold of the collar on his flannel, pulling him down to you. He hesitated, that ever present scowl forming on his face, but you knew better and pushed yourself up on your toes. Eyes never breaking contact, your lips brushed over his, a silent invitation.

His eyebrows creased, grappling between what he wanted to do and what he should do. You were delicate and quite possibly one of the last good people in this fucked up world, and he was a bad man. His thumb drew a line across your lips, their sheen drying on his thumb.

"It's getting late," he whispered.

"Yeah? Seems like I'm in the safest place I could be right now." Your smirk told him that you had him there. Fingers drew a line up his arm to his firm bicep, waiting for any telltale sign that you shouldn't be here. "It's ok, Joel."

Your words were so quiet, he almost didn't hear it with how bad his ear had been lately. But the look he gave told you he had. His other hand drew up, framing your face in his rough palms, and he captured your mouth with his. He wanted to be delicate with you, but he was not a delicate man, and when a low guttural moan escaped you, he knew he was fucked.

His hands trailed down before settling on your ass. Lifting up, your legs wrapped around his torso, arms around his neck, and his whiskers tickled your lips.

"Fuck, girl," he grunted. "Do you know what you're doing?"

You snickered, feeling the length of him pressed against you while he carried you to his bed of worn sheets and old blankets. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear, "Gonna show you how sweet I can be."

The air went out of him in a short huff and he set you down on the bed. He stilled as he took you in. There weren't many good moments in this world anymore, few that he cared to remember or cherish. But watching you lay there, waiting for him, it was a memory he'd hold onto when things got rough, when he ever felt lonely.

His chest heaved in anticipation as you reached up and pulled off your shirt, the same lacy black bra he'd seen before.

"Oh, you know exactly what you're doing," he mumbled and, grabbing hold of your ankles, slid you down to the edge. His arms caged around your head and he leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "You sure about this?"

You nodded, the anticipation causing you to tremble slightly.

"You gonna be a good girl for me and take off those pants?" That slow Texas drawl was as sweet as honey, and you moved maybe a little too quickly to unbutton your jeans, shimmying them down.

He chuckled to himself, thrilled to see how eager you were. Truth be told, it had been hard to connect with anyone after the outbreak. It was hard to trust, hard to hold onto anyone, hard to fucking relax. But, with Joel, you felt safe.

He pulled at the ankle of your jeans, slipping them off, then hooked a thumb through the waistband of your underwear. There was a confidence in his actions as he slipped them off and pocketed them. Dropping to his knees, you lifted up on your forearms, watching him with curiosity. It was a struggle to take his time, but he trailed some delicate kisses up your thigh before his mouth consumed your cunt. Head thrown back, you echoed an animalistic moan when he gripped onto your hips to keep you close.

"So fuckin' sweet," he mumbled, the whiskers of his beard tickling you in all the best ways. His tongue lapped rhythmically, making your toes start to twitch in rhythm. You gasped his name, running your fingers through his graying hair, gripping it when he found a special sweet spot.

"Right there," you choked out, holding onto your breath while he made you see stars. He dipped a finger in while swirling your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, then added a second. His fingers slid in and out, making you start to shake.

"Come on, sweet girl," he coaxed. "I know you're close."

Thighs gripping around his head, that final release caused you to moan and shudder and shake uncontrollably, not having let go that much since before the outbreak.

It was dark and hazy in his room, the only light from a crescent moon reflecting off him when he sat up and crawled toward you. His eyes were hungry with a desire that was not yet satisfied. You bit at your bottom lip, anticipating what he would do next.

"You doing ok sweet girl?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he said as he hovered over you. "Turn over."

Your eyes grew wide, but he didn't have to tell you twice. You rolled on your stomach and felt as he trailed kisses down your spine. The metal of his leather belt clanged as he unbuckled it, then the quick whine of his zipper.

"Come 'ere," he said as he gripped onto your hips and lifted you to your knees. You knew what he wanted and you tilted your back down and ass up higher.

"Like that?" you asked, feigning innocence. Joel tried to keep his composure, but you were too fucking much for him and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Good girl," he choked out, gripping himself before sliding into you with ease. Your soaking cunt sucked him in effortlessly, and a chorused moan resounded through the room. You may have already cum once tonight, but by the way his cock stretched you, it was inevitable you'd cum a second time.

"Joel," you whispered over and over again as he thrust into you. There was no easing in or getting used to his size, he was past controlling himself to go gently. His movements were ragged, rough, needy.

Your pussy clenched around him, so close to that second release. He gripped onto you harder and pulled you up to him.

"Touch yourself," he drawled, and you reached down to rub at your clit. His mouth went to your ear, whispering, "I want you to cum on my cock."

You moaned in response, his hands roaming to your breasts while he thrusted.

It only took a few more pumps before you started to quiver, your head thrown against his shoulder in ecstasy. When he knew you were down from your high, he pulled out, him cum warm as it shot on your back and ass.

You laid on your stomach, fully spent and satisfied, while he searched for a towel to clean you up. Eyes closing while he wiped up his mess, you wondered if he had just marked his territory. Either way, you knew you were his.

[moonaged-moony]

So.. I wrote a little jegulus thing loosely based off the song Alley Rose by conan gray.. Enjoy :)

warning - heavy angst!!!

As soon as James got off the phone with Regulus, he was in his car. He was probably going over the speed limit, but he couldn't care less.

Regulus had called him, asking him to run away with him just for the night. And of course James had obliged. James would run away for good if Regulus asked him to.

He pulled up to the corner store and saw him standing there. His eyes were red, and his lips were torn. It was clear that he'd been biting them. He still looked beautiful even in this dishevelled state.

Regulus got in the car without a word. He barely even glanced at James. He didn't ask any questions, even though he had many, he just drove. He knew it would be a sore subject right now for Reg, he didnt want to push it.

They pulled up at his parent's holiday cabin and got out of the car. He opened the door and held it open for Regulus. As soon as it was closed Regulus pushed him against the wall.

"Regulus?" James tried to speak but he was quickly cut off.

He felt Regulus's fingers around his neck as he pulled him into his desperate breath.

The way he was kissing him, hard and fast. James couldn't get enough. But he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, like this would be the last kiss he ever shared with him.

Later that night, as they were pressed up against each other in James's bed, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread.

They still hadn't spoken about why Regulus had needed to get out of the house. Why he practically begged James to run away with him for the night.

James didn't want to sleep. He had a horrible feeling that when he opened his eyes again Regulus wouldn't be there. He could hear Regulus breathing. He knew he wasn't asleep yet.

"Reg, you won't leave me, will you?" He whispered in his ear.

He didn't receive an answer.

"You won't leave me alone again will you, love?" He could hear the desperation creeping into his voice.

Still no answer. Why was he ignoring him? The knot in his stomach tightened.

After a few hours of trying to get to sleep, his eyes finally drifted closed. When he awoke, Regulus was still next to him. He let out a breath of relief.

"Regulus, love, wake up."

He watched as his eyes fluttered open. He was so beautiful.

As much as he didn't want to push him, they needed to talk about why he was acting so strange. James needed to calm his worries. They got out of bed, and he made them both a cup of coffee.

"James.. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything."

But James needed him to be specific right now.

"What's on your mind?"

"Im just so nervous, mon soleil.."

"About what? You can tell me anything, love, you know that."

Regulus closed his eyes, and James could tell something was wrong.

"Regulus, I love you. You can trust me."

He doesn't say it back.

Why doesn't he say it back? Even when they were in an argument he'd always say it back. Even when he was in a tough place with his family, he still said it back.

So why wasn't he saying it back now?

It was as though he could sense James waiting. He looked up at him, woth those beautiful grey eyes. He saw the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Regulus?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but it came out shaky and broken.

He said he was nervous. Maybe that's why. Whatever he was worried about must have been bad.

Still, a small part of him wanted to scream at him to say it back.

When Regulus called him last night, that was the first they'd spoken in a year. But that was because his mother forbid him from speaking to anyone. When he left for home, he had reassured James that when he returned to him, nothing would have changed. That he would still love him.

He waited all year, practically begging at his feet to leave with him.

He waited. He thought, even after all this time, that he'd still love him.

"James.." He sounded so broken. James would do anything to fix it.

"Regulus, say it back." It came out as a sob.

"I can't."

That's what he was dreading. The words he was begging him not to say in his head.

"Why not?" He felt the tears start to stream down his face. He probably sounded insane, but he didn't even care.

Regulus didn't answer.

"Reg.. please, don't leave me alone again."

He played back all their memories in his head.

The first time they kissed. He'd an his fingers through his hair, and thanked god to touch the flame.

When he'd told him about his last relationships. How he believed necks were made for brusing. He swore lips were made for lies. And he thought that if Regulus ever left, that he would be the reason why.

When they'd started as just a summer fling. It was all experimental and he thought Regulus would prefer safer things.

He used to swear hands were made for fighting. He swore eyes were made to cry.

Regulus was the first person who proved that to be a lie.

He watched as Regulus grabbed his coat.

"Regulus don't leave me hanging alone again." He sounded hysterical now.

He followed Regulus as he walked out the door. He couldn't even hear his own voice anymore. He screamed the same thing over and over. Even after Regulus was far gone. He sat on the floor screaming at the sky until his throat felt raw.

He stayed in the cabin. He didn't answer anyone's texts or calls.

When he heard a knock on the door, a small pathetic part of him hoped it was Regulus. He hoped he'd changed his mind. That he'd come back for him.

It wasn't him. It was Sirius. Sirius who's cheeks were stained with tears.

Sirius who was holding a newspaper.

James took it with shaky hands, unfolding it and reading the headline.

It was all hazy after that. He heard his knees hit the floor. He heard himself screaming, but it felt far away. He felt his heart splitting into a million pieces as he replayed the headline in his head over and over again.

Regulus Black pronounced dead at age 17.

[bledtitanium]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘ @hellsurvivr Liked for a Starter! ∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

JEALOUSY WASN'T IN HER DNA! Okay, that wasn't entirely true. The Jealous monster only reared it's ugly head when a female was touching Thor, and he was Flirting back. She trusted her Boyfriend. And it was apart of who he was, he flirted, liked second nature. But, the thought of a female that wasn't her, having the IDEA that she stood a chance with him. Made her go HOSTILE, but she tried to keep her cool in these situations. Rarely had it ever became nuclear, or anything of that nature. THEN THERE WAS PAYNE. The girl was fucking GOURGEOUS, and Alexis liked her.

She had the ' TAKE NO BULLSHIT, FROM NOBODY ' type of attitude. And she easily was able to talk smack against Alexis's father, Even though Tony hated it, and like challenging her back. Which never did end well for him in the long run. The very first Day she walked into the compound, Alexis had taken notice. And she didn't mean to feel instant jealousy bubbly up in her chest. But Thor was the first Avenger she had found, and started talking too. And of course he had to be flirtatious. He didn't even do it in a way, that ever gave anyone the idea that he wanted to rip there clothes off. No, it was always subtle.

But seeing him do it with her, DROVE HER CRAZY! But that was neither here nor there anymore, she wanted to help. And Alexis has never really gotten in her way. More or so, that she didn't know how she felt about having a half demon among them, it kind of made her feel, uncomfortable. Even though her father had tried to reassure her countless times. Concentration broken, raising oceanic blues, to drink in the scene before her. Blonde locks spilling across her shoulders as her head tilted ever so slightly to the left. There had been a situation, one that The Avengers all raced off to save the day again.

Leaving her in what she liked to call, ' BASE CAMP ' her own little section of the compound that was big enough. It was decorated with dark colors, and her own Desk, aligned with three monitors, 2 keyboards and a few gadgets lined up around the desk. Some Plants, decorative wall signs on the wall. And her head set, hung on her head. If anyone didn't know better, they'd see it as a Streamer set up, and she was a Gamer. And did stream most nights, but right now. She was on stand by, and linked up for her team to be able to check in with her if they needed her to hack a system, or locate someone on cams. Or to look up information, that you had to look deep to find.

She was always searching info up on her database as she waited to hear from the guys. Flipping the comms on, so she could hear what everyone was saying, she had picked up on Payne and Thor talking. She didn't know Her Father or Steve had assigned those two together. Why were they trying to make her ANXIETY well up for. They were talking about the current situation, but then she heard Payne say something about Thor and his Muscles and of course Thor started being very flirty. And the conversation was tinkering on toeing the line for Alexis. She had to concentrate, but she couldn't help hovering her finger over the push to talk button on her headset

❝ Hey, Thor can you give me a 1-11 on your findings so far. And Payne, can you move ahead of him about a mile. I thought I saw something, down that alley. ❞ She didn't see anything, she was just trying to get Payne away from her boyfriend.

[warsrage]

I've woken up worse places. Not many, though. ( nik and sim! <333 )

TRUST NIKOLAI TO BE ABLE TO MAKE HIM LAUGH, EVEN WHILE HELD IN CAPTIVITY. the situation is far from ideal, the both of them tied up and tossed into some drafty, depressing stone cell. the thing about privateering is that one tended to frequently run aground of very similar risks to pirating, no matter how many times @cordoliae swore that wasn’t what they were doing. sometimes, like now, one even did so on purpose. not it made a lick of difference to simeon. on the bright side, the kerch men who had waylaid them appeared not to have recognized sim as belonging to a merchant family, which at least kept his parents out of it ; he suspected that either they had been too excited to capture the infamous sturmhond – blessedly also unrecognized as anyone else – or sim’s face had been largely forgotten since his flight from ketterdam. either way, their captors' ignorance is unlikely to last. but at least it gave them time to try to formulate a plan for escape before their captors discovered their haul was even better than previously thought.

" unfortunately, I can say the same, " he answers somewhat hoarsely, still groggy from waking and dizzy from what might amount to a concussion. they'd put up a good fight – nikolai probably more so, given that he was certainly superior in skill and sim hadn't used inferni fire – and sim can tell simply from the aches in his body that he'd bear the marks for a while. but it would have been foolish to reveal his power, given that the goal had been to find themselves exactly where they are now. a clever infiltration, although admittedly more of a rushed backup plan. " certainly does beat a back alley in west stave, though. wallet lifted, of course, along with every mother-of-pearl button right off my waistcoat, wouldn't you know it. let's just say it was an unlucky night. "

simeon tests his bonds with a ginger tug or two of his wrists, which are uncomfortably tied behind his back, and he releases a breath of relief when he determines they've used rope instead of some sort of metal. his fire could likely burn through most metals, too, but the work would be far more arduous – and likely more painful, at that. next, he tests his fingers, which he finds frustratingly ( but unsurprisingly ) bare. " they've taken my flint rings, damn them. " just like everything else, he imagines. the fools must think they're worth something, but their only real value is to an inferni like him. all it took while wearing them was a single snap of his fingers and flame jumped to his fingertips. a clever but ultimately otherwise valueless trinket dreamed up by his brother before sim's impulses drove him away from home. they wouldn't catch a price for these thieves, but he'll still have to try to locate them before they leave the building, if possible. " but the wall's stone. if I can just get a spark – " sim concentrates for a moment and the faint scent of natural gas rises, to his great relief. however many bruises he's earned in this endeavor, it hasn't been enough to compromise his abilities. hastily then, his fingers fumble behind him, searching blindly, his brow creasing in a slight frown. " a small rock, anything we can use to strike the wall and make one. that way, I can burn my bonds away and untie you. "

[laufeyson-barnes]

I'm Scared

Eddie munson x reader

Warning: mentions of being jumped, threats, sad, fluff

Summary: eddie being your safe space

Y/n wasn't expecting it. She was walking home from the video store where she worked. She had also gotten movies to go to Eddie's but her plans were stopped short. As she was turning around a corner a car was speeding down the road. Y/n wasn't popular so what was about to happen was normal. The car had slowed down as it rolled past y/n. Jocks and cheerleaders were packed in the car.

Some heads were put of the window hollering.

"Wassup slut!"

"Look at this fucking loser!"

"Suck my dick bitch!"

"Burn in hell freak"

"Whore"

Insults were hollered and screamed at y/n as they drove past. Y/n was angry. She couldn't just not be angry. They always did this. As there car drove around tbe corner y/n screamed.

"Fuck you assholes!"

She heard the wheels screech and she knew. She started sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her. Her head flipped to see the car speeding back around the corner.

"Shit" she breathed under he breath as she ran.

"Come here freak. We are going to fucking kill you!" Jason's loud voice said over the roar of the engine.

Y/n felt her throat close up as she ran down an alley way. She knew she only had a couple seconds of a head start. When she got to the end of the alley way she sprinted in the direction of the trailer park. Her back pack was making it hard to run. Y/n was struggling to keep running but she knew she needed to. She knew they'd catch her somehow.

As y/n had gotten towards the edge of the outlet malls the car cut infront of her. Her feet came to a stop. The car door slammed open and y/n ran the other direction.

"Aw come on y/n. You know I'm gonna get you" Jason screamed.

Y/n didn't stop. No she ran and ran until as she reached a patch of grass she hit the ground. Jason had tackled her. People were yelling at him to beat her ass. Jason had flipped y/n over and smacked her hard.

"Told you I'd catch you" he said as he struggled to keep the upset girl down.

"Fuck you" she said through her teeth laughing. Jason got pissed and started throwing punches at the girl. He'd beaten her for awhile and y/n was taking it like a champ.

"Now I'm gonna kill you freak. Any last words?" He asked smiling at her.

"You hit like a bitch" She said laughing. Jason's hands wrapped around y/ns throat. He tightened the grip and she choked on her laugh.

"Oh yeah bitch. Say it again. I dare you. Say it! Say it! SAY IT!" He screamed and she struggled to say it.

"You....You hit...like a..." she choked as he tightened his hands tighter. Her neck could snap and she wouldn't be mad. She was in alot of pain and she felt herself blacking out. "Bitch" she whispered.

Jason let go and grabbed her hair. He slammed her head into the ground two times before y/ns hand got loose from his knee. She knew it was her last chance to escape from death. She didn't know if it'd work but she tried.

"Behind you" she choked out. Jason turned and when he looked back at her she headbutt him. He flew off her and she threw four punched at his face. She heard a Crack when she punched his nose. Shit. She grabbed her bag that had fallen off and ran away the best she could.

"I'm gonna kill you you bitch! You better keep your mouth shut"

"Yeah you better run!"

"Come back here!"

"Freak"

"Physco!"

She didn't know if she could make it to Eddie's but she tried. She made it to the trailer park by staying in the woods most of the time. She didn't even try and sneak it. She tried to open the house door. Locked. She pounded on it loudly. Because it was so late she thought his uncle would be gone. But she thought wrong.

"Who the hell is-" eddies uncle started. "Y/n. Woah kid what happened. Talk to me" he said bringing me inside and sitting me on the couch.

"Eddie" She whispered out of breath. She was covered in blood. She didn't know if it was hers or Jason's.

"EDDIE!" He screamed and she flinched. At first eddie didn't come out he just asked what loudly.

"EDWARD MUNSON!" He screamed trying to get his attention. Eddie came running out.

"Yes sir-" he stopped half way in the livingroom when he saw me.

"Holy shit. Y/n baby what happened? Oh my god" eddie asked voice full of worry. He tripped over himself getting next to her. He pushed the hair out of y/ns face and winced at the pain.

"Eds" She whispered tears filling her eyes threatening to fall.

"Baby. You gotta tell me who did this" he said trying to wipe the blood away from my face.

"Said he'd kill me." She whimpered. Eddie locked eyes with his uncle.

"No kid we won't let him. You gotta tell eddie who did it. I don't got to know if you dont want me to but you got to." Wayne said. He practically ran around the house trying to get stuff to clean you up with.

Y/n caught her breath she felt calm enough to talk.

"I was closing the store after I got us movies for tonight.." she said struggling to talk with her hurt neck.

"They drove past yelling. I thought they were out of earshot and I yelled back like such an idiot. Chased me. Hunted me. It was like a cat and mouse game eddie. I was so scared. I was so close but he caught me. He caught me eddie and he made me pay for it" she finished.

"Who baby. You can tell me who. We just want to help princess." Eddie said in a reassuring and desperate voice.

"Eddie. You got to promise me you won't handle it yourself. You have to promise me you will be calm about it. Please" y/n said fully crying now. Eddie nodded desperately. He had a feeling he knew who but he needed to hear you say it.

Wayne had come back with a bowl of water and abunch of stuff to help y/n.

"Jason. Jason and his possee. Eddie I was scared. I fought him back. I tried." She cried out and Wayne put his hands up.

"Hey deep breaths. It's okay. Eddie isn't going to be angry. Because he cares more about you and your well being right now kid. Right eddie" Wayne said giving eddie a look. Eddie had a moment to think. He was pissed that they touched his girl. Angry to the point of murder and he would never hurt anyone. Not even a fly. His girlfriend was scared though and he knew she was more important. Karma would get them one day.

He took a deep breath before responding.

"Right. Baby you're more important. So let's get you cleaned up and then we can report this" eddie explained kissing her hand gently. Y/n shook her head.

"No please. No no no no. I can't report it. They can't arrest everyone that was there. They can't. So any one but Jason will come after me." She cried and eddie sighed.

"Okay baby I won't make you report it but please think about it." He said nervously and she nodded.

"I'll be right back baby. I'm going to get you a change of clothes. Are you okay staying with him" eddie asked. Y/n nodded and the second eddie left she started crying again.

Wayne cleaned her up a bit more. Wayne loved y/n. She made eddie happy and she made him happy. Shed make him lunch and send him off the work. It was cute how she cared. Wayne thought of her like a daughter in law already. He knew her and eddie would last a very long time.

"You should report it. It would bring justice to not just you. But to everyone they've done this to. It could go on their permanent record kid." Wayne tried to explain why she should but y/n wasn't sure.

"But..what if..ow.."

"Sorry kid"

"What if the police blaim me Mr. Munson. What if they blame me for...for responding to the teasing. What if they get angry with me for hitting back" y/n was rambling. She was so scared. So many things were going through her mind. It wouldn't shut off. Now that the adrenaline was worn off y/n was in so much pain.

"Kiddo have you met hopper?" Wayne asked.

She shook her head no.

"He's the biggest teddy bear ever. But he hates bullies. Hates them. He's one of my best friends to so how about if I ask about it then we can talk?" Wayne explained and y/n nodded shyly.

"Okay kid. Let me go get you some medicine. You can wipe off any blood. I just don't want to hurt you." Wayne said kissing the young girls head. That hurt y/n a bit because of how her head was smashed in the ground. But she knew he meant well.

...

While Wayne tried to convince y/n to report what the jocks did. Eddie was trying to calm down and not to be angry. He should've picked her up. Eddie started crying while searching for an outfit that would fit you. He found his band t that his band made awhile ago. And he found an old pair of short you had left. He put them in the bathroom and had to take deep breaths.

He wiped his eyes and went back to take care of his girl. When he sat next to her she was calm. No tears not until she saw eddie again.

"Did he take good care for you princess?" Eddie asked sweetly. She nodded slow tears falling down her face.

"Okay baby I know you don't want to talk about it but did anything happen to your head. If so we need to take care of that" eddie said worriedly voice covered with concern.

"He grabbed my hair and slammed my head into the ground a couple times." She responded subconsciously touching her head. Eddie nodded.

"Where baby. Show me please" he told her. She pointed and eddie searched for a cut or anything. Nothing but it was red.

"Damn kid you got em good didn't you" Wayne said pointing at y/ns hands. Eddie looked.

"That's my girl. What happened" eddie asked.

"He beat me first. He told me he was gonna kill me. Asked if..asked if I had any last words. I told him he hit like a bitch.. then he was choking me. Suffocating me. I thought he would snap my neck. He threatened for me to say it again so I did. He slammed my head in the ground. But I tricked him. I said behind him. He looked and I headbutt him. Then I punched him a couple times. I ran. I ran an I ran as fast as I could" She explained tears welling in her eyes.

Eddie comforted his girlfriend. Him and his uncle locked eyes

"Kid we are proud of you for sticking up for yourself. You shouldn't let kids like that bully you." Wayne said and eddie kissed her head.

"Eds" She cried out and eddie held her tighter. His eyes filled with tears. He couldnt stand seeing her cry or in pain. It hurt him. His uncle saw him tearing up.

"I'm going to leave you two alone. I have work to go to. Y/n I'm gonna talk to hopper for you kid" Wayne said.

"Make sure she doesn't have a concussion and if she does. Hospital Edward. Got it?" Wayne said to Eddie. Eddie gave a thumbs up. Wayne left still worried for y/n.

Y/n broke down fully. She slowly climbing into Eddie's lap. Eddie held onto her not wanting to let go.

"I was so scared Ed's. I cried so hard and he wouldn't let go. He was so ready to murder me. He wasn't going to stop eddie." Y/n cried and eddie just held her.

.....

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked and y/n shook her head no.

"There's uh. Nothing to worry about kay?" Eddie said wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Eds I'm so scared" She whispered.

"You're safe" he responded kissing her head. They both watched as Jason was put in jail for assault. The entire group if kids got in trouble. Hopper wasn't happy. He became y/ns dad figure. And since her mom was always away hopper looked after her. He trained her. He taught her how to defend herself.

"Y/n it'll be okay. You can stay with me" eddie said and y/n nodded.

Eddie and y/n went home. He held her all day and night. He comforted her through the nightmares. Hopper made sure she had protection on her 24/7.

"Eddiem I love you" y/n whispered. Eddie held her tighter.

"I love you too princess. " eddie whispered. He knew she'd make the best wife and mom. He couldn't wait for that day to come.

*****

Guys it's my birthday. Yes sadly I share a birthday with america :( anyways I had the idea and it kind of sucks ig.

[n7inky-fanfics]

Shore Leave

CW: mention of suicide, injuries from gunfight

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"Shore leave, always an adventure." Kaidan says as they exit the Normandy. This shore leave has definitely been an adventure. After all, it began with Hazel Shepard being shot at in one of the best sushi restaurants on the Citadel and ended with taking back the Normandy from her clone, who promptly committed suicide by allowing herself to fall from the ship. The friends exit the docks and begin their shore leave again, hoping that they can truly enjoy the rest of it. After Joker suggests a party, Shepard sits down on the couch with a beer in hand. She'll definitely need a stiffer drink to process this all later, but for now she wants time to think and rest relatively unimpeded. Kaidan was right, shore leave is always an adventure. She snuggles into the couch and recalls the first shore leave she took with Kaidan.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They had just left Feros when they got the order from the Alliance. After the stress and strain of that mission and all it involved, the Alliance thought it best for them to take a weekend of shore leave on the Citadel. As the ship flew back to the Citadel, the crew was abuzz with excitement and plans for their weekend. As someone who spent the past decade in the Alliance and planned to spend many future decades serving, Shepard had learned to take shore leave whenever she could get it. Despite this, she felt a little unsure about taking even a weekend off from trying to find Saren. Despite what the Council and Udina thought, she knew the truth. The galaxy depended on her to save it. That's a heavy burden to bear, and at the time it was one she was inexperienced with.

The Alliance could make her dock her ship and send her crew on shore leave, but she could spend her weekend improving her singularity in biotic training centers and researching Saren and the Reapers using her Spectre access to open otherwise classified files. She planned to take anything she'd need with her, just in case they tried locking her off the ship to make her take a break. She had just finished packing her bag and was heading to the mess for dinner when she was approached by Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams.

"Hey, skipper. What are you planning on doing once we hit the Citadel?" Ash asked, a large grin spreading across her face. Kaidan looked nervous and glanced at Ash like she was torturing him.

"Ah, just planning on getting some work done over the weekend." Shepard shrugged.

"You going to dinner, Shepard?" Kaidan asked.

Ash looked to him, surprised, then smiled and added "If you are, you should join us!"

"Sure, sounds good." Shepard said. Some time with her crew sounded nice. They'd already seen a lot together. Their journey to stop Saren led them to rescue Liara from Therum and later to save colonists on Feros from both the Geth and an ancient, sentient plant. Shepard knew, even then, that their journey would lead them to more impossible and mind-blowing things. The bonds you build over experiences like that can last a lifetime, if you let them evolve.

They trio walked to the mess together and got their plates. As they sat down, Ash shoved Kaidan lightly with her elbow and looked towards Shepard. Kaidan cleared his throat and said "So, Shepard... You're not going to take any time for yourself?"

"I'm glad the crew will get a chance to rest. It's definitely necessary to keep everyone at their best. But, I don't think the whole ship can be off at once. Not while we're trying to stop Saren."

"C'mon, Skipper. You need a rest, too!" Ash smiled.

"You could come to Flux with us the night we arrive. After, you'd have the rest of the weekend to get work done." Kaidan said.

"Or to relax some more. " Ash added with a laugh.

Hazel laughed, too, as she said "Alright, alright. You've got me. I'll go with you."

And so, after an "enjoyable" Alliance-standard dinner and an uneventful docking, they went to Flux for a late drink. As most Alliance soldiers do, they went in their fatigues because it's all they keep on the ship. Doran gave them a table near the dance floor and Jenna told them their first round was on her as thanks for getting her out of Chora's Den.

One drink and pleasant chatter turned into two and then three drinks. Shepard hadn't been able to relax like this since before the Normandy left on her shakedown run, and she hadn't laughed like this since Akuze. It was a wonderful night. Eventually, Ash dragged the three of them out onto the dance floor, only to sneak away so that Kaidan and Shepard were dancing alone. When Hazel realized, she blushed bright red and excused herself to the restroom.

She was falling for him, and she knew she couldn't let that happen. Kaidan was great, and be had so much potential. She knew that anything between him could stand in the way of his career as well as hers. She stood at the sink and splashed some water on her face in the otherwise empty bathroom, or at least she had thought it was empty.

Suddenly, broad Turian arms were around her. One was pinning her arms to her side, while the other was against her throat, joking her. She flared her biotics as she threw her weight backwards, driving the Turian into the wall with a thud. That's when she saw the gun trained on her from the vent in the ceiling. She raced out the bathroom and a bullet ran through her right arm at the shoulder. Instinct drove her, and she firmly pressed her hand to the wound as she fled.

She must have been quite the sight when she emerged from the bathroom. Despite the noise and flashing lights, her companions almost immediately spotted her. They stood quickly and ran to her side as she found Doran.

"We need to evacuate, now." She said.

"We can't just evacuate, what about-" Doran began.

"I just got attacked in you bathroom and was shot. Your customers are in danger. Call C-Sec and evacuate." She used her patent "Commander Shepard" voice. Even through the suite, she could tell that she scared the Volus a little. "Williams, help Doran get everyone out of here through the shipping entrance. Alenko-"

She stopped as she saw the Turian who had attacked her from behind making his way towards them. Whoever had hired him didn't want collateral damage. If it hadn't been a concern, he'd have been shooting at her by then. This worked well because it was one less thing to worry about. "No time! Alenko, Williams, follow me!" She ran through the club to the main entrance. They followed suite. The merc was joined by two others, and soon they were on the hunt. Despite her best efforts to contain the bleeding, Shepard was leaving a bloody trail right to them. There was no way they'd be able to lose them like this, and Shepard didn't think she'd want to lose them, anyways. She headed to the alleyways behind the market. "Alenko, Williams, go get C-Sec. We're going to need guns."

"What about you, Commander?" Kaidan asked.

"I'll hold them off. They're going to be on us no matter what. I'd rather be somewhere a stray bullet won't hit a civilian. Go, get C-Sec. That's an order."

They ran towards C-Sec as Shepard began prying open crates of merchandise for the market. She found nothing of use, so she positioned herself near some crates just as her pursuers arrived in the alley.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice steely and calm.

"Saren sends his regards." The Turian merc sneered as his companions chuckled. Shepard used her biotics to throw the man against the wall. The idiot hadn't worn a helmet, probably because he was being cocky. He hit his head against an emergency light sticking out from the wall and his body slumped to the ground. The moment of shock gave her an advantage, and she dove behind a crate as the other two opened fire. The idiots didn't even time their shots well, so she had a small break in the fire as their heatsinks overloaded. She took the opportunity and shot out a large singularity field. They both dropped their weapons as they were pulled into the field, crying out in pain. Now, she would usually give herself a moment to recharge before using her biotics again, but she didn't have that kind of time here. As soon as the field dropped them, she threw them against the wall, hard. The impact finished them off. The three mercs lay dead or unconscious in the alley.

With the immediate threat past, the adrenaline quickly began to wear off. Shepard became aware of the pain in arm and how exhausted she was. She'd pushed her biotics too hard too quickly, and the effects of forcing that much dark energy to move at once were taking a toll on her. She leaned her back against the wall and slid into a sitting position. Her arm was still bleeding, and she used what little energy she had left to keep pressure on the wound.

Kaidan and Ash came running in then along with several C-Sec officers. The guards moved to check out the mercs while Kaidan and Ash ran for Shepard. "Shepard, are you alright?" Kaidan asked as he dropped to her side.

"Nothing some medi-gel can't fix." She chuckled weakly. She must have been really pale, because Kaidan and Ash both exchanged worried glances.

"I've got some, Commander. Let me patch you up." Kaidan said. Shepard just nodded and let him work. He cut away the sleeve of her fatigues, which at this point clung to her with sweat and sticky blood. She'd definitely need a new shirt. She winced as he cleaned the wound and applied medi-gel. The sealant worked quickly, but it wasn't the military grade she was used to. It didn't pack the same punch.

The C-Sec officers confirmed that all three of the mercs died upon impact with the wall. They began the lengthy process of collecting evidence. Shepard felt a little bad that their encounter had spanned the distance between the Flux bathroom and the alleyways. The size of the crime scene alone made it lot of work. As Kaidan finished patching her wounds, he said "Wait here a moment. Dr. Michel will be here soon with a chair and an IV to get some nutrients in you."

"Nah, I'll be fine." Shepard said. She moved to pull herself to her feet with the help of a crate, but Kaidan gently held her down.

"All due respect, Commander, but you're in no condition to be walking anywhere. Between the blood loss and the overused biotics, you need to rest." Kaidan looked her in the eyes. God, she could get lost in the warmth of his deep brown eyes. She chastised herself for thinking about that at the time.

Kaidan and Ash walked with them as Dr. Michel transported Shepard back to the clinic. Dr. Chakwas met them there.

"Dr. Chakwas, it's good to see you." Shepard said, flashing a shit eating grin.

"Lieutenant Alenko informed me that you overused your biotics in your latest encounter. I came to make sure you get a good lecture about safety while we get some nutrients in your system."

"Doctor, I couldn't have planned to be attacked while on shore leave, without any weapons or armor."

"Maybe, but you still worried me. Don't do that again." Dr. Chakwas smiled gently at Shepard.

"I love shore leave." Ash smiled and patted Kaidan on the back.

"Always an adventure." Kaidan added.

[quinn-tessence]

Paint me like one of your French girls

Part 2

This goes out to all the artists in this heart warming Joker community, who still find so much inspiration in our beloved character. Thank you for sharing with us how you see Arthur/Joker through your eyes, your creative vision brings so much joy and comfort through these troubling times! 🙏🤡❤

Summary: you accept Joker's invitation against your better judgement, even after he'd broken into your home and caught you red handed. His rhetoric makes you fall into his degraded sense of civic duty. So does his sly but chivalrous demeanor, a different shade of the Arthur you used to know. You're in for a revelation that seals the deal.

Length: 7k ish, gradual build up

Warnings: a touch of Theodore Twombly, splashes of Arthur and heavy strokes of Joker, mentions of mental conditions, flirty fluff, oh smut, yes, yes, keep readin'

As his scent still lingered, the yellow street lights engulfed the room as you stood naked at the window, facing the portrait you'd painted. Maybe it had only been the light reflecting off its surface, but you could have sworn it was looking right through you.

Did this really happen? You thought to yourself as you stepped down from your high, hoping this had not just been one more of your self induced vivid fantasies. But the flammable cocktail he'd left lingering in your studio was a stark reminder.

Arthur had come at last, even if one year late, but it had been Joker breathing down your neck, intoxicating you with whispers of your most ardent desires. A butterfly in the path of a flame you were, the attraction to him primal, insatiable, frightening. Was this really Arthur? He was surely the Clown Prince of Crime, and that was not something sweet Arthur could have maneuvered while pumping himself full of antidepressants.

‘I'd put my mouth on you’ resounded against your temples, his purring whispers a delicious catalyst for a continuous pulsating sensation throughout the night. 'Cause that's how I imagine you every night' had been the least expected confession, had he lied to just get you hooked, he'd been successful. As you tried to drift away, you'd force yourself to resist the urge and keep yourself untouched for him. Agonizing as that was, how he'd stirred the embers in your mind had made any of your attempts futile. No substitute would do.

Tick, tock. You hadn't heard your bedside clock ticking for years, but today it was thumping, a metronome to steady your breath as you woke. The only sensible action was to take charge and keep yourself busy. He was going to get what he wanted, clearly he had made the alternative impossible with his mischievous schemes. But he had been thinking of you all night as well, and that was one aspect up to be exploited.

A few minutes to 9 PM, a pinup doll you'd never seen before was staring right back at you in the mirror. His spine tingling whispers had made you work on yourself on commission. He had one demand and it was up to you to fill up the rest of the canvas to impress.

The street was empty as you walked out on the dot. Swiftly, 3 SUVs pulled up in front of your alley, and your heart leapt to your throat.

Here comes the devil. Dashing. Elegant. Ravishing in that pristine makeup, green eyes piercing your whole body as he swaggered closer, his body ambling, almost floating on air. Your art made him no justice compared to the original. Any shades of color you might have painted before would pale in comparison to how they contoured him in the flesh, and the makeup uneven, yet always perfect. Smoke fuming from his mouth, his heels screeched the pavement as if to warn you danger is nearing, yet your knees grew weaker with each step he took.

He was… just as slim as you remembered, but somehow a bit taller. Instead of Arthur’s timorous gazes, a devilish smirk crowned his beautiful jawline enough to make you forget even your name. You couldn't help but wonder why the dress as his gaze systematically reduced any fabric covering your skin to irrelevance. The emerald green eyes had already made you whimper in silence, this wasn't going to get any easier.

‘Hi Y/N. Glad you decided to come tonight.’ An eyebrow twitch accompanied his words as a much needed release from hypnosis.

‘Hi, Joker. Not sure if I had a choice in accepting your invitation.’ An unmistakable vibration in your voice immediately made his deep, long dimples contour his well defined face. The sexiest dimples you'd ever seen in a man, you were certain.

‘Of course you did. You had one week to consider, and here you are. I must admit, you are your finest work of art so far. Is all of this for me?’

‘I have a date later and I thought I’d dress to impress. The fella seemed to have some serious intentions.' The thump of your heartbeat could easily be heard by his armed men keeping watch. Thankfully, they minded their business.

‘What a lucky fella. He'd better, or else I know a few guys who can straighten him up'

An eyebrow twitch followed by a tongue in cheek chuckle, he tried to distract your noticing by running a hand through his slick green hair, but his shy gaze fell to his feet. Hi, Arthur…

‘In this case, we'd better be on our way before we get all of us in trouble. A couple precautions before we go. I'll need to wrap this around your eyes to protect the location we're headed to. It'll be a 30 minutes drive. Sadly, I’ll have to jump in another car, for both our protection. If anything happens on the road, I’ll be the main target and my guys are sworn to keep you safe. But we took care of a few things and Gotham should be teeming with crime tonight, enough for us to have a safe journey. Are you ready?’ his hand extended, your primary instincts shameless traitors. As you touched his fingertips, you went all in.

You both hopped into one SUV, his proximity to you nerve wrecking, the warmth of his slender body radiating against your prickled skin. The way he had been staring into your eyes for a few seconds was making you question reality. Shutting your eyes as he wrapped his tie around them didn't help clear the waters.

‘Tell me if it's too tight.’

‘Wouldn't that be the point? Don't untighten it.’

‘Miss Y/L/N... Here you are, blindfolded in the backseat of my SUV, about to drive off with Gotham's most wanted. Knowing your inner circle, I’d have wagered they'd advise you to keep better company. Good thing I’m not a betting man.’

‘Well, a certain gentleman had made a promise last night, if I remember correctly'

‘Indeed he had. I'm not going to hurt you'

‘That was not the promise...' you forced the corners of your mouth to not betray your titillating reaction.

‘Wasn't it?’

An endearing giggle helped cut the tension in your core, but you gently startled at the feel of his fingers caressing your cheek and rushing over your lower lip, the ever present smell of nicotine flooding your nostrils, the lack of eyesight heightening your other senses. Somehow he made this feel like a dream.

‘See you soon'

A 30 minute drive with only the voice of Frank. Thoughtful touch, making you feel close to home even while venturing into a world of batshit crazy. Blindfolding you might have been for protection, but it served another more tantalizing purpose. And processed you did, but not at all did it help with the anxiety. If anything, Joker had poured gasoline on the bonfire he had started the night before.

The cars stopped and the door opened, your hand touched softly, you were descending from the car and carefully directed forward by his arms. You’d been right about his scent, and it drove you mad as he helped you watch your step.

‘Open your eyes'

The venue, a vineyard outside Gotham, with a manor and view of the lake. Breathtakingly elegant and conveniently out of police jurisdiction. A coquette set up on the front terrace in an open space foyer, the breeze rustling the flowers that dangled from it. As beautiful a venue, in reality he was still the center piece of this canvas, the white streaks of makeup, his green hair, the contrasts of his suit, that never ending cigarette. Unethical, dangerous, beautiful. What was he doing to you?

‘Welcome to my summer retreat. Glad you decided to join me, miss Y/L/N.’ He pulled a chair for you, elegantly inviting you to sit.

‘If we’re so intimately acquainted, why are you calling me by my last name?’

‘I like the taste of it on my lips. I like kitten more, but you know, pleasantries and all.’

He'd called you that before. Arthur was there, but Joker was clearly behind that lewd smirk and tantalizing choice of words. Tingles started running up your thighs without warning, in sync with the rhythm of his cues.

‘Pleasantries are for strangers'

‘Oh! Well then. We already see eye to eye' the clicking of glass betrayed a slight tremor in his hands as he poured a little more wine than necessary.

‘Cheers, thank you for having me here. How could I decline the invitation?’

‘I didn't know if you'd accept the invite one year later.’

‘And yet you took the risk'

‘How could I not be intrigued by the artist who paints me as a primary subject? You can imagine my surprise when I found out you were the same Y/N from the pharmacy queue. Why did you move out?’ As gallant as he was, he sure knew how to cut straight to the point.

‘I... I wasn't in a good place, I needed to uproot myself. So I quit the force, moved out, became a full time artist and painted my view of the world. That gives me fulfillment, I had been searching for it in the wrong place, I guess.’

‘Can’t argue with that. Fascinating. Tell me more.’

‘How far back should I go that you don't already know?’ His eyes moved away for a second, then returned with an intensity to freeze one's bones to the core.

‘It would mean so much more if I heard it from your lips rather than my trusted informants’. ’

That sweet white wine was a dangerous catalyst to unleash to him your widest smile, comforted by the verified honesty of his stories and his sharing of turmoil at the world. He'd also been an artist, although his conditions had been a detriment to his success in a comedy career, and support for him nonexistent at best.

You were just as fluent in Arthur's tragic life as he was in your tumultuous one. You’d been reduced to tears in your late nights when processing his fall into madness and how helpless he had been. All alone. That utter feeling of pain and grief had fueled your inspiration through all those months. But now the makeup made him look younger, the furrows of life less visible on his skin, that deep sorrow hidden under a thick layer of overconfidence, and if that was what he wanted to show you tonight, the last thing you'd do was force him otherwise.

A couple hours flew within minutes, the food half nibbled, his elbows on the table, his eyes every shade of the sea amidst a storm, devouring your every twitch as you spoke. Each time you'd meet them, he'd watch you languidly, dissecting your every reaction, the corner of his mouth slowly arching his dimples into existence. You had already sunk deeply in the sight of him chuckling and occasionally strolling his delicate long fingers through his green locks. He was so real and close to the touch, his presence so electrifying, it gave you fever.

And yet he made you feel comfortable. It had been a long time since a man had done so well and so naturally, you had forgotten how sweet the shivers were. And here was Arthur, that once shy, flustering man, igniting fire after fire in your gut with each elegant note of his voice and moves of his slender body. You couldn’t tell if the spark in his eye was his, or a reflection of your flaming self.

‘My turn to share?’

‘Yeah maybe I should stop talking for a while now, sorry, I got a bit carried away.’

‘Nonsense. You're my guest, why would I have brought you here if I didn't want to hear your stories?’

‘Well if you insist, I could think up a few reasons… aaand here I go, I’m so sorry, that was a bad joke, I swear it's the wine speaking…', your hand went straight to your face in a desperate attempt to hide your tipsy embarrassment.

Typical of you to screw this up, atta girl, you thought to yourself, feeling how your cheeks had turned the color of your dress. You weren't lying, the wine had had a woozing effect, but you were drunk on him instead. As you shyly lifted your eyes, a hungry wolf was lurking beneath the painted blue diamonds, eyes as deep as an ocean, eyebrows creasing his forehead in long, deep wrinkles. It wasn't fair how the red razor sharp grin cut through his cheeks like furrows, his crooked teeth exposed enough to make you bite your lip in shame of your sassy comment.

‘That's… one description, but not the one I’d choose… When you come out from under there, I have a surprise for you. Come with me inside for a minute.’

That red dress suddenly shrunk tightly on your chest, the fabric a suffocating shroud for your skin. Guided through the gliding doors, an elegant galley of your work hung against a red brick wall. You felt a knot in your throat, your eyes watering.

‘This part of the house is my little sanctuary. Where I come to spend time with you, with how you see me through your eyes. I started collecting those the minute I felt alive through your art, immortal, legendary. You’re fueling my ego, you know?’

This was more of a shock than a surprise. A shock at your naivety than at his right to purchase your public art. He had kept all your thank you cards, even if you'd thought you'd written them for different clients. He called them your letters. They were to him, and about him, so he found it appropriate. Was this just incredibly romantic, or was it the schizoid paranoia from his official diagnosis?

Right then, the realization finally struck, and it struck with the sound of a thousand church bells between your temples. You’d shared such intimacy with him for months, and he’d been financing your bohemian lifestyle since you’d left the force. This was his big night, just as much as yours, it was clear as you looked into his eyes to see sweet Arthur from the pharmacy line. Yet his shy gaze betrayed anything but an expectation to cash in that cheque. You were ignoring all the red flags again, the rush of emotion rendering you incapable of clear thought.

And yet, your body was yearning to shed its covers and unravel your latest masterpiece to absorb his reaction through every pore, but you gave into your superficially cautious thoughts. As he stood next to you in admiration, he lit a cigarette and passed it over after puffing almost halfway. You’d never thought the sight of red marks on a cigarette would be the catalyst to set you ablaze in your choice of men, but you'd been ironically wrong. The very close presence of this clown felt nothing like fear and anxiety, even more so as he was fidgeting so sweetly. An adorable irrational fear of a possible rejection had kept a never ending cigarette between his lips, and your heart coiled at seeing a painted Arthur before you.

‘I hope you don't mind. If a fire broke out tomorrow I'd save these first. You saw me when I needed to be seen, and the way I needed to be seen. Your art is breathtaking. Nothing humbles me as admiring it.’

You felt as light as a feather as his hand extended once again, and carried you back to the foyer to pour the last glass of wine.

‘I gotta be honest with you, kitten. I’m not an easy guy to be around. My mind is a twisted place, and past treatments were … debilitating, to say the least. Fate took me off those by force, just to feel much better afterwards, ironically. I switched my treatment for a couple conditions in the meantime. You see, having difficulty distinguishing reality from imagination could be quite inconvenient in my line of business. Else, I'd be back in Arkham by now.’

For a deranged criminal, he was exquisitely refined. His posture, his attire, the cigarette between his fingers were radioactive. This deceitfully feeble man had once bashed in the brains of a man twice his size with a pair of scissors and a wall, the police records had been detailed enough to make your stomach churn. His slim, delicate body was a dangerous trap for those who questioned his ferocity and agility coupled with his multiple mental conditions. The 3 Wall Street guys had had no idea what a catalyst they were about to be. And yet, here he was. Delicate and gentle, maybe even vulnerable.

‘Back? Why back?’ you asked despite knowing every little detail.

‘Not an easily digestible subject, I’m sure you'd agree. That's a conversation for another time, but here I am, flesh and blood, thinking as clearly as daybreak. In most aspects.’

That wine must have had no effect on him, as he continued to control the conversation, steering it with refinement, clearly more cautious than yourself.

‘What aspects are not clear?’

‘Is this an interrogation, kitten?’ his wide gaze from under long eyelashes coupled with the pet name off his lips were utterly debilitating.

‘Not at all, I am intrigued. Please tell me more'

‘If the lady insists. What’s unclear? Well some minor details. Like my future, my life, the next target, evading the police, you.’ His emeralds confidently strolled along the lines of your face, particularly the curve of your lips. Not at all distracting.

‘I can understand the others, but me?’

‘You see me for who I want to be. I’m not always Joker, that's for my men, my criminal nightlife. You knew me before all this, and you paint that man wearing this Joker outfit. Sometimes I wish it were so, but most times I am convinced that it must be otherwise.’

He swallowed hard and emptied his glass.

‘So you see how your artistic depiction of me is what I want to see when I look in the mirror, not what they say on TV. It's kept me from going too far, it gives me a level of restraint that this Joker makeup laughs at, and I really prefer that to any straight jacket. I like this new man I’ve become, but I can't allow him to overwhelm the old me. Whomever that was.’

As he spoke, there was a sweet sadness to his voice that proceeded to melt you from the inside, furthering the utterly irresponsible, delicious plunge. He was forcing himself to smile even through the most painful truths, like a tic developed through years of practice, but his voice faltered here and there, trying to stifle his bouncing knee. All you wanted was to cup his cheek and caress him through the anxiety that had been crippling the body of both his whole life. He reached out for another cigarette before you could fulfill that thought.

‘I… am flattered, to say the least. I wasn't sure what to expect of tonight, but I will have another glass of wine, please. If there's any left in this beautiful vineyard.’

‘Coming right up!’

He danced nimbly into the kitchen, Sinatra serenading an audience of hanging grapes and the two of you.

Impressed was an understatement. Where was that psychopathic, vicious killer clown that all the headlines had been about for the past year, that your friends had tried to warn you of? Joker had been a gentleman so far, none of his known crimes had tainted that opinion of him, not even Murray to be quite frank. He wasn't half as ruthless as he had been demonized to be. How he spoke so caringly about his men, they were not just his goons, he trusted them, and they trusted him. This didn't make your coming here any wiser, not in the eyes of society. But your mind was already made up.

He soon returned with a new bottle, poured a glass and extended his hand.

‘Voulez vous danser avec moi, mademoiselle?’ That pristine makeup and red suit molded him into the most alluring devil coming to claim you. Speaking in French had sealed the deal.

‘Biensur, monsieur.’

Strolling you across the terrace on The Way You Look Tonight, leaning you onto his chest, his palm on the small of your back, gently intrusive. The warmth of his body engulfed yours, his cheek on your temple, he had you craving for a heavy dose. He was such a good dancer, you felt like a feather in his delicate arms as he turned you a few times then leaned you backwards to lift your thigh in a shy attempt to test your responsiveness. The innocence of his smile quickly altered into curiosity as his fingers brushed over your garter. A glimmering spark coated his devilish eyes and an eyebrow twitch marked the epitome of nonverbal cues.

‘Where did you learn French?’

‘From old movies on the telly. Unfortunately, my extensive knowledge of French will end here. I'd always fall asleep through the romantic dancing, so I don't know what comes next.’

‘What a terrible waste of a beautiful evening that would be…’

‘It would… But I've also prepared for tonight, kitten, in many ways.’ You whirled at his directive once again.

‘You did indeed. I appreciate the effort.’

‘Hah, I’m sure you do…' he chuckled to himself mischievously. 'I know I am putting you in an awfully strange position by being here and showing you all this. I'd like to know you're comfortable, all things considered. I wouldn't want to overwhelm you.’

‘Yes, how thoughtful indeed. Especially after how you left me last night.’

‘Ohhh yes, I did that, didn’t I?’

‘My dating rulebook had a few pages torn out, so I had to skip a couple chapters in my preparation. Perhaps you could fill me in on the content of those missing pages…’

He hadn't expected you to make the first move, the surprise in his eyes at seeing you instinctively biting your lip was palpable, but the tension in your core had overstepped any boundaries.

‘… I wouldn't want to drag you down. I'll catch up. What page are you on right now?’

As you spoke, you were dancing him inside the mansion, towards the main art room. Tantalizing him, your lips grazing over his, locking eye contact intensely, then shying away. His intrigue at your little game etched a smirk across his face, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your waist, very gently contouring the girdle holding your stockings.

‘I have an advanced edition. The page that cautions against wearing lace for a long time.’

‘Lace?… oh. Ohhh! I see! Yeah, I remember that. In the missing pages, they strongly advised removing all other clothes for easier access to the lace…'

Your back sensually turned to him, his fingers lowered your back zipper, the feel of burning wet lips on your neck snatched a deep moan from yours as a hum vibrated against your ear. In a swift second, you were in his arms being carried in front of his gallery, and as soon as the stilettos touched the ground, your dress was framing your ankles at his careful directive.

‘Oh... The advanced edition must have a copy of my journal in the writers' room’ his eyes gleaming, he took a step back to revel in the sight of his freshly lace garnished gallery.

‘Not really. Seeing how you wrapped me up in a tight bow, I found another way of adding a… touch… of myself.’

A wide grin across his face, he was visibly panting. His hands straight to the top of his teal shirt in a desperate attempt to get some fresh air. The light emanated from the frames of his portraits contoured your body as he approached with careful steps, as if a predator stalked its prey, strolling hungry eyes all over your curves.

‘And here I was, thinking I’d seen the best of you yesterday. Look at you… you're worth every damn risk in the book. Tell me, have you been a good girl last night?’

He slowly ascended the 3 steps leading to the art wall where you stood in your unholy red lace lingerie, stockings hanging from your girdle insolently. Your pedestal, that was. Colin was right, reality beats fiction every god damn time. If he only knew.

‘I clearly haven't. I should have called the cops on you. Yet you break in and rake me up with your mischievous whispers, you make me dress up for you and bring me here, to all this, and then claim you don't want to overwhelm me. You're acting like a gentleman but you're really a sneaky bastard, aren't you?’

Shamefully you put all the blame for your descent into his madness on him, as if you’d taken no part in this tantalizing game. In his ascent, he had gained the advantage right back, towering over you in all his colorful splendor. In that very moment, he knew you were his. The corners of his mouth arched so intensely that no amount of makeup could cover Arthur's arousing wrinkles any longer. He knew very well that he was the devil coming to claim what was his, and his gentle demeanor had shifted drastically to reflect that and scorch you. His inquisitive eyes onto the soft edges of the red brassiere, his tongue strolling over his lips lusciously, you were soon humming to yourself.

‘I… I am about to fuck you into next month. I hope you cancelled your plans, pussycat.’

His bluntness made it clear that Arthur had left you at the mercy of this clown, yet every atom of your body craved him.

‘How gallant… What about your criminal activities?’

‘I'm taking a small vacation. My men will shake things up enough to keep your buddies doing overtime. As for being a gentleman, I’m done with that for tonight.’

‘What if I say no?’

‘I made sure you wouldn't do that last night’

The moment you felt his ragged breath against your skin, you melted away in his arms, like gold in a fire pit. You gave in completely to his hungry lips trembling as he kissed you, his whole body as tense as a string, savoring you with heavy gulps. The intensity of his grip, the weight of his body, the shivers in his flesh betrayed the end of a painful anticipation that he'd yearned for. The bitterness of his makeup was the first shock, the second was his body weight heavy against you, the third the most unnerving, ohhh la la! If one lit a match you'd both combust in flames.

‘How about we skip the pleasantries, mm?’ he whispered in between heavy gulps of you, far from asking for permission.

The taste of his mouth, a mélange of cigarettes, wine, bitter makeup, each flavor made your limits become optional. Lace was suddenly no longer a threat for your breasts, as his fingers bared your chest for his delight, quickly followed by his painted thin lips. Something about him made you feel like a dangerous woman. Devouring you whole, shoulders, neck, breasts, his makeup brushed faded color tracing his steps, little moans escaping his throat at the taste of your skin. To your left, a full gallery of your ardent attempts to bring him back. You’d been afraid for so long to articulate your feelings for him even to yourself, always denying the possible realization of this moment. But his warm tongue strolling along your navel was a check mate to your insecurities, and now your body was his canvas, painting you in shades of Joker.

As he got on his knees, you felt yours would weaken in an instant, the heels of your stilettos working their way to penetrate yours.

‘I think we should take the advice in the rulebook and avoid exposure to lace for too long, don't you?’ his nimble fingers removed the lace panties and his tongue invaded your core before you could object. As if.

Fuck yesss… you exhaled a touch too loudly.

‘Oh dear, where are your manners, young lady?’ as if he wasn't speaking with a mouthful.

The sight of his green hair falling over the red jacket, his wide eyes pinned on yours, his mouth gobbling at you had been your usual suspects for the past year. But you'd imagined Arthur under the makeup, and these darkened eyes betrayed another beast altogether, a hungry, voracious beast. A surprisingly crafty one, within seconds he'd made you purr uncontrollably.

An outpour of sensation washed over you, body and mind together feeling so sensual and wanted, he was controlling your body with his tongue even as he knelt before you. You’d been intoxicated by the smell of cologne, cigarette and faint gasoline, your finger tips tracing the freshly applied white makeup and green dye on his temples. Soon enough, the slick bastard was maneuvering your clit, exposing and tasting it to his own pleasure. For a second, he moaned as he lost himself in your folds, the sounds of him enjoying what he was doing to you made you pulsate on his tongue. He'd rattled you down to your heels, you were panting so hard you were afraid you would tumble.

‘Joker… I’m gonna fall…’

‘Now now… let me finish this first, then you can fall for me, kitten.’

It hadn't even crossed your mind to make that connection, but you were once again red-handed. You couldn't help but let out a silly school girl giggle as he got up and lifted you in his arms, so much stronger than his slim complexion let see, carrying you to the large sofa, gently laying you in a corner.

‘Is this better?’

Your eyes the size of two full moons, you nodded.

‘Keep those devils on, will you?’ winking at the red soles of the Louboutins you'd chosen for the occasion. You nodded once more with beggar eyes.

‘The taste of you… mmm how I’ve yearned for it… I wasn't joking about your cancelled plans. Don't say you weren't warned' he whispered as he kissed you, his taste and yours mingled on his lips were an aphrodisiac. You nodded obediently one last time.

Kneeling once again between your thighs, he proceeded to unbutton his vest, then his shirt, yet maintaining eye contact. Damn, that new treatment must have been making miracles. You had never been intimate with Arthur before, but you couldn't miss that it was Joker in between your thighs. You’d be shamelessly lying if you said you didn't want him to take you just like this, a painted, deranged clown that had been stalking you for months, the danger an essential part of the thrill.

As he bared his chest, a deep purple covered part of his left ribcage underneath the teal shirt, his nightlife trade in violence etched onto his body, causing you to frown with genuine concern. That must have been why he seemed to flinch and change course at the thought of baring his body to you. In his own time.

You trembled as his warm breath spread over your clit, sinking his tongue in whatever he'd made of you already. The intense eye contact would be enough stimulant to answer your burning curiosities, but he had his to satisfy. Savoring each slurp, he was masterfully tensing you up like a guitar string ready to pop at the next twirl, and those diamonds around his eyes only served to plunge you into the ferocity of his curious gazes. You were a ball of ache to feel his flesh slither inside you, tongue, fingers, cock. The thirst you’d felt for him for so long was strikingly visible in your quivering body and four octave moans, his palms strolling across the red lace all the way up to your breasts. How insatiable he was in his exploration, each touch a stronger confirmation that you were really, finally his.

A soft stroke of his tongue over his lips yanked you out of any distraction, an uncontrolled twitch of your knees betraying a futile instinct of self preservation. Your reflexes had been off by around a year, though. You whined and moaned and shivered under his velvet lips as he strolled them down your breasts, your ribs, your belly button, feeling the jolts in your body and reveling in them as he hummed. Each kiss he carefully peppered onto your prickled skin sent you into a maddening spiral, your core a backdraft aching for him to extinguish. How ironic. You had grown up petrified of those nightmares of a dreadful clown chasing you down to eat you whole. Who would have thought these terrors would develop into consuming yearnings 20 years later?

The high that came with his virtuosity made the fabric of reality feel hazy, your fingers tangled in his green hair an anchor to the real world, where it seemed as if your body had been designed for him to unlock. With each feathery stroke he'd have you yearning for more, contorting in lust as he tasted you for his own pleasure. Your fingers on his white temple, he seemed intrigued by the beggar look staring right at him, so he buried his tongue deeper.

‘This tastes exactly how I imagined it…’

This hungry wolf kept on controlling your whole body through his tongue, slurping each drop of pleasure he brought. The narcissist in him was feeding off each reaction he ignited, reveling in the fact that he was the cause of all this hot mess, and you were falling like rain on a scorching mid summer day.

‘You rascal... Is this your MO, you threaten your prey 24 hours before the inevitable?’

‘I usually take ‘em by surprise'

Fire and ice collided in your core into an outwash of sensation and your eyes drowned in the back of your head as he gentry filled you up with one finger ‘Ohh… right there…’. It was too much to bear as his tongue played with your flushed bud and his finger stroke at your deepest well of intense pleasure. Never would you have thought Arthur capable of pleasuring a woman so exquisitely, but here he was, proving you wrong in the most delicious way you'd never imagined.

He was an artist after all, a nimble dancer who was born with music in his veins. And what is dancing than making love set to music? How he constantly drained you of every drop of pleasure with his skillful tongue, as if he'd finally found his vocation. The tenderness of his touches betrayed a long lasting want for you in his arms, a haunting want that he'd finally captured and was now close enough to taste.

‘Oh God, this is too good, please keep going' your voice had turned into beseeching cries.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes, please…’

‘Mmm… Right here?’

‘Y… yes… don't stop please', the words poured out as if coming from the sweetest place of ecstasy, the beggar look and pulsating muscles a dead giveaway.

‘Come for me, pussycat, and look at me as you do...’

His command to come for him tipped you off the edge instantly, he had released the hold on the leaning rollercoaster, his tongue twirling and stroking your flushed bud. His piercing eyes gleamed as your skin went aflame and you combusted in his mouth harder than you’d ever had before. Your mind was devoid of thought as you let yourself sink into his fervent caresses. He held you down as you bucked and convulsed in blissful agony pinned onto his finger, he sank his nose and tongue into your cunt, prideful for making you come so soon. You felt flushed, ravaged, trembling from all joints, your eyes in the back of your head unable to contain their fluttering any longer. His starved frenzy had eased into careful strokes with a soft tongue, comforting you through the dwindling climax.

‘Whoa, hello there, pussycat… how I love hearing you purr like this for me’

He climbed up to you gently, the widest, proudest grin imaginable etched on his face as he smacked his lips. The lower half was smudged enough for his mouth to be visible under a glistening coat of you, and there it was. The scar that you'd specifically left out of the composite sketch. It was very old, a part of him, his face branded uniquely. As much as the clown costume spewed fire down your spine, you so badly wanted to see Arthur without it once again.

‘Joker…’

‘Yeah?’

‘I'm gonna…’

‘Come again?’

His nimble fingers were skillfully riding you fast towards another orgasm, your core still highly sensitive after your first one.

‘That's it kitten, give this joker what he wants. You're so damn beautiful, I want all of you'

His savory whispers lifted you to your peak, then his lips kissed you through your implosive ecstasy as your whole body quivered under his. The taste of you on his lips should be his new cologne from then on. After he’d seeded those thoughts the night before, it wasn't at all surprising how your body overreacted to his touches. Murmuring softly in your ear, he slowly released the grip as you descended from the second high. Your palms caressed his jawline, the feel of paint covering his skin a contradiction you'd never felt before. But here he was, teaching you what you didn't know how.

‘There there, I’ll let go now'

‘No, don't, please. Give me more…' You begged, commanding respect as the highly virtuous, dignified lady you were in that moment.

His smile as wide as on Christmas morning, his eyebrows raised, a chuckle exulting his whole body, he clearly hadn't expected that reaction so soon. Cat's out of the bag now.

‘Well well well… Look at you beg!'

‘I didn't beg…!'

‘But you will'

You should have known better than falling into that again, but you were too distracted with unbuttoning his red pants and finding the real culprit for your sleepless nights. If you'd known Joker from so many accounts, this had not been in any police record. But boy, it should have been, you wouldn't have thinned your art exhibitions to avoid being found, what a ridiculous thing to do!

With a swift motion, he was already in between your thighs. Lowering his white briefs and positioning himself at your glistening entrance, he was massaging with the tip, testing your sensitivity. This surely wasn't the same gallant gentleman who'd wooed you so far, this was another animal who was toying with his food, and you had willingly stepped into his lair.

‘Is that a threat or a promise?’

His eyes squinted in the dim light, a smug smile to his ears and your whole body jolted at the feel of him entering you all the way down, groaning with eyes in the back of his head.

‘Knowing me, what’s the difference?’

You molded so well on him as he filled you up and some more, his arms locking you down for his pleasure. Careful and gentle at first, his knees deep in the couch the more he'd bury himself into you, his face immersed in your hair gulping your scent, his tongue nibbling your ear.

‘And now I’m inside you. All the way inside you', his hand caressing your jawline, shyly brushing over your gaping mouth before kissing you.

Releasing yourself to him had been the epitome of the most ardent desires clawing out of you progressively. You‘d craved each and every word he was whispering in your ear as he was having you. His size filled you all the way in, you must have been molded to him or else you could not fathom how you'd never felt so awash as you did with Joker. He was going there, working exquisitely to get his little prize again, and it was terrifying how familiar he had become with your sweet spot in under an hour. Perhaps you'd anticipated this moment for months on end that his slightest touch would just keep you hooked in a state of blissful tension. His slim body felt heavy over you, his sharp pelvis bones grinding against your inner thighs, his protruding ribs over yours.

And yet he was so beautiful, no other man had ever awakened such riveting feelings inside your gut so effortlessly. The amount of torment this man had felt throughout his life, and yet he was still capable of making you feel such heart warming bliss in his arms. As he'd wrapped you around him tight, his palm on your cheek, his forehead to yours, it was clear you weren't just tonight's fuck. He had longed for you, and you were finally his. And his you were.

‘I'd asked myself so many times why you kept painting me, and what would you think about when you did that… Am I on the right track?’

You were a broken record of enticing approvals, your mind and body in ecstatic agony. This was not the same man from Pogo's Comedy Club, or the same man on the police car for that matter. This man was phlegmatic, charismatic and gallant enough to be a dirty flirt, and so goddamn dashing in his suit and makeup. Everything about him was such a contradiction it was driving you rabid.

Getting plowed you screamed and panted heavily, your core soaking him whole. His strokes were taking you to the edge, had they been delicate so far, now they were progressively vicious as he heard you whimper. Your mind was a sweet void, a deep abyss of shivers and tingles shrouding you in free fall, your dry lips pleading him to keep going.

As he bit his lips, his facial features turned aggressive, his eyes dark with lust. You moaned as he laid you down and fucked you hard and deep, hitting your sweet spot rhythmically, your cries fuel to his ego. The sneaky bastard was grinning at the sight of his kitten crumbling under his pleasure, so damn proud of himself.

‘You've been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?’

Your five senses were invaded by his forehead sweaty onto yours, his eyes a hypnotizing flood of green murky waters, the smell of ammonia and cigarettes filling your nostrils, his husky voice whispering softly as his cock rummaged your sweet spot.

‘You want to be my precious little slut doll, don't you? Come for me.’

Oh god… a new set of pleasure waves rushed through your flesh progressively. Something about the way he cursed sent you into a spiral, how it tipped you over into another outpour of muscle spasms. Under tight grips, he fucked you the way you needed to be fucked, fast and hard, without a pinch of mercy, his cock growing stronger under your spastic contractions, Arthur must have left the building completely. You slowly shed every ounce of ecstasy as he trailed his eyes down your body, his breath ragged, his voice purring little silent curses.

You're here, really here, you're mine, all mine, his voice whispered right before his sea green eyes disappeared in the back of his head and you felt a strong throb rushing through you as he spilled himself into you, shuddering, panting, gasping for air. His moans in pleasure were an aphrodisiac you’d never believed you'd get a taste of. But here it was, and all you wanted was to savor it at your discretion again and again.

As he descended from his high, his body felt heavy and his heart galloped against your chest, yet his lips still lingered on your skin, peppering it with red traces of himself. Joker had ousted the whole world from your senses, leaving only himself under your skin, his embrace the safest shelter for both.

‘If you only knew…’ he whispered as he lay his face to rest in the nuzzle of your neck ‘… just how many times I’ve played this in my head, kitten… If there's one good thing out of my condition, it's that my imagination can be blissfully vivid.’ His fingers deciphered your face gently, grabbling the warmth of the skin. ‘But every time I’d wake hopeful, you weren't there. And that's when it was most cruel and bitter…’The faltering of his voice played the piano tiles of an innocent, tormented concerto that filled the room despite the windy night.

‘But I am here now, Arthur'

‘You are… yes, you are…’

The sweetness of his soft lips deliciously covering your face until reaching your mouth, he'd been right when predicting your fall for him, and what a rhapsodic fall he'd triggered. The silence of his tight embrace said more than you'd ever dared hope for, but a playful hum lingered in his throat as the words murmured indelibly.

Someday when I’m awfully low, when the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight

His husky voice gave you shivery prickles, and a chuckle escaped you remembering the direction of Sinatra's lyrics, what a master of anticipation Arthur had become.

*Knock knock*

Arthur's voice froze in an instant, your heart almost bursting into his palm, he placed a finger over your lips to shush you.

A voice with a British accent apologized for the intrusion and set your mind at ease, but had clearly set Arthur on edge. By his puzzled reaction, he had meant his promise of a vacation and an interruption couldn't be a good omen.

‘Ahhhh shit, Gary! He wouldn't bother unless it was important. Stay here, kitten, I'll be right back. COMING!'

Untangling himself from you proved difficult for both as he kissed your lips one last time while tucking himself back into his pants. You'd covered half your face with the first pillow to stifle your giggles as he stumbled putting his shoes on, seemingly willing to greet Gary with his lower face smudged in a most decadent mixture of you both.

‘Arthur… that suit won't cover the lower half of your face, you know?’

An eyebrow twitch stopped him in his haste to ponder at your hint, the realization of it spreading a most endearing smile of the night onto his face. Your heart coiled at his complicit chuckle of needing to put Joker back on as he'd forgotten him for a second.

Two minutes later he bowed gracefully, his makeup shamefully half applied over the initial mess.

‘Gary's my best man, he's seen worse of me. But what’s a valiant knight to do if not protect his sweet damsel's virtue?’

A wink and a quick peck on the lips, so comfortingly as if you'd known each other for ages, and off he went.

As he will, undoubtedly…

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (Part 27- “Kiss Me Deadly”) (Bucky/Winter Soldier x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 4474

Warnings: Violence

Author’s Note: I did a bit of a rewrite and repost on this chapter.

Masterlist

BUCKY POV

————————

"What has he taken from you?" I ventured asking T'Challa after an extended period of silence, my eyes still on (Y/n). He acted as though he didn't want to answer and I could see the pain he held.

"It's a long story."

"Well, I don't recall Africa being that close to D.C. so I'd think we'd have some time. But hey, if you don't want to ta-"

"My father and the love of my life. He is responsible for their deaths. He is the reason I now hold the mantle of king."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How did it happen?" T'Challa took a visible deep breath before continuing.

"He has been working with a man named Klaue. You see, in Wakanda we hold a very precious element and there are multitudes of it. Many in the world search after it. It's called Vibranium."

"Isn't that what Steve's sh-" I began to ask and he nodded.

"Captain America's shield, yes. Your arm, also. It's a powerful element as you well know. It's power can be harnessed for many purposes and used in a large quantity of ways. Some, like Klaue and Charscovsky, want to steal it to use it for weapons that will only bring more harm to the world than there already is. As you can imagine, we don't want this and are attempting to defend it in the best ways we know how."

"I'm sorry for your losses."

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. When the explosion first occurred, I couldn't even comprehend what was happening. One of my sister's labs contained a new experiment that would not only strengthen the vibranium but turn it into a transparent liquid, as well as giving it the opportunity to turn it into a gaseous form. My sister was working on this so that they could be utilized for medicinal and manufacturing purposes, however, Klaue and HYDRA want it to make new weapons."

"That sounds like HYDRA," I looked over at (Y/n). She was still unconscious but she seemed as though she was resting. I recalled what my resting was like while in cryostasis, though, and that thought almost dropped me to my knees, thinking of what could be going through (Y/n)'s mind. I placed my hand on the wall of the aircraft for support. T'Challa noticed.

"She's the love of your life, yes?" I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Yes, yes I think she is."

NATASHA POV

________________

As the craft moved quickly away, I made it a point to run as quick as my legs would carry me to the vehicle Bucky and I had brought. As soon as I was in, I stepped on it, maneuvering the traffic with quick and aggressive movements. It was at times like these that my driving became less cautious despite all of my training to be cautious in all situations. I had to get back to the tower to inform the rest of the team and get the jet fueled up so we could be ready to move as soon as we got the Wakandan coordinates. I didn't completely mistrust these newcomers, but I didn't fully trust them either. I had no idea what they'd do to them or how they'd help them. Hell, if Tony couldn't help him, what could these strangers do? As soon as I got back into the tower, I ran to the common room and pressed the intercom button on the wall beside the glass floor-to-ceiling window.

"I need anyone and everyone here to report to the common room for an emergency meeting. Now, people!"

It only took a moment for Peter, always gung-ho to get in on any potential action instead of thinking through the dangers involved. As the newest member of the Avenger team, he also was ready and desiring to please in any way, shape, or form. Steve was next to arrive, Sam trailing behind. Wanda showed up, followed by Vision, fingers intertwined. Tony was the last to show up as I already had frantically begun explaining to them what had ocurred.

"Wait, so you're telling me Barnes willingly jumped right back into the arms of Hydra after we've been fighting to get him out from under their grasp?"

"Yes, and no, Tony. God, if you weren't so fucking arrogant and slow-moving, you wouldn't have missed the important bit that (Y/n) was captured by them. That's why he went!"

"So where are they now? How and why are you back without them," Steve's voiced matched mine decimal for decimal with emotion.

"That's what I'm trying to say! They're in Wakanda! I'm waiting now for coordinates and as soon as we get them, we have to go to them. We have to be ready in case it was all a setup. They offered to help her so of course, he went. He wouldn't listen to me." The phone buzzed. Coordinates appeared with instructions to make contact when we were a hundred miles out. I handed the phone to let him read, waiting for his reaction. He looked up, jaw tight, and looked every one of us in the eyes before he said,

"Suit up."

READER POV

___________

Flashes of memories that weren't my own shone throughout my mind. I felt cold but I could not awaken. I felt as though there was a transparent, yet impenetrable cloud covering my entire body as I lay and watch as if it was the projection screen of someone else's life. I watched as people were murdered in the most horrid of ways. I watched, attempting to scream but no sound escaped my throat. I saw police cars and ambulances blow by as I, or who ever's eyes I was viewing this through, sat in wait and patience, and I could feel conflicted pleasure flood my veins. I could feel success but there was something else nagging at that success. It felt like regret, disgusting regret and sorrow. I could see myself move from the window and across the bare room of what seemed an empty apartment to get a better view. I could see medical services and camera crews, running after the Continental. I could feel the smile spread across my lips and the threatening regret bubbling inside attempting to pull those lips down.

The scene changed. I saw flashes of a man one who seemed a friend one who seemed to be by my side. He smiled over at me, grabbed me on the shoulder encouragingly. This man had strong cheekbones and medium bronze-brown hair. His jaw tightened in a flash and his eyes grew vile and all signs of life left them. The surrounding light flickered off and when the light resumed, I watched as he was tossed into a vertical tube and he went under Cryostasis. I felt someone grab the back of my arm and guide me to my own tube. Everything went black.

I sat in darkness for what seemed an eternity. I attempted to scream. I couldn't see where I was but I felt as though I was in a coffin. I attempted to scream, to kick, to fight my way out of the darkness but it was as if none of my efforts were making any difference. I couldn't sleep. Adrenaline pulsed through my system at lightening speeds and while my efforts seemingly did nothing, I could feel the strength of my own hands, arms, and legs reinforcing and growing stronger throughout the fight.

Out of nowhere came a burst of light and I found myself standing under a lampost. I felt the same conflict but this time, it was anxiety and determination. I was waiting for someone, someone I would do irreprable harm to, but I couldn't recall who or why; I suppose because these weren't my own memories, but someone else's, and I couldn't figure out who just yet. I began to walk forward, at a gradual pace so that I could take in the sight of the bar, yet walk by undetected. I saw him and he appeared familiar yet sick. I continued to walk forward once he was in my sights. I positioned myself just inside the opening of the dark alley so that I could be hidden yet I could still observe what I needed to. I waited and the tension inside my chest continued to build. As I waited, the street was quiet and all but empty, except the few drunken strangers leaving the bar and the addicts doing business. Those who were lucky enough to stay off drugs while on the street steered clear of places like this, I practically heard this person say in their mind, so I won't have to worry about sober witnesses. The man I was waiting for stumbled out of the bar. I stepped out of the darkness by only a few inches so that my identity would remain unknown to my incognizent victim. I heard myself say:

"Hey, Jack."

The man turned, apparently whose name was Jack. Across his face was surprise and just a hint of recognition before he collapsed from the bullet I put in his chest. I felt the dull pain in my own chest as I opened Jack's vehicle trunk and stuffed his body inside. I got in the vehicle and drove off before once again, everything went black.

I laid there in the opaque nothing-ness. I felt tears stream down my cheeks. That Jack was the same man who had appeared in the prior vision. I may not have the memories to go with, but I could feel it in the very depths of my soul that this man, this Jack person, had been a friend, a confidante, someone whom this person had been proud of, someone who was like a kid-brother to them. I saw the bleakness in his eyes that mirrored my own pain and self-destruction, whoever's eyes I was seeing through. I saw the desolation in his eyes as he exited that bar and I knew we had suffered similar demons both in our imagination and out in the world. As I felt a sob beginning to crawl its way out of my chest, an explosion of black smoke, orange sparks, and flying debris dashed across my eyes and threw shadows across my face.

After the smoke cleared, I, myself, not the memories of the person I was watching, saw a person I knew standing in front of me with blood across their face, as well as blood stains from bullet wounds I could sense this person's memories I was watching had inflicted. I recognized him immediately. Steve, Steve was standing in front of me, in front of this person, and with the sorrow in Steve's eyes, I knew immediately whose memories I had been living: Bucky's. My sweet Bucky, I was watching the deeds that haunted him. My vision jumped as did my body. I heard Bucky, myself seemingly, say "You're my mission," and I could feel the tension inside his chest, in my own, grow until I thought my own chest would erupt and gush forth the ripping and contradicting emotions filling it. I could feel the pressure of the metal hitting skin, cheekbone and skull. I could feel splatters of blood hitting my face as I raised my arm multiple times until I felt something stop me and I heard Steve's words.

"Then finish it. 'Cause I'm with you 'til the end of the line."

Traversing across my vision there were quick-paced scenes of Steve and myself as Bucky, walking up steps and I could feel the anguish in his chest, unsure how exactly to help Steve in whatever was going on. Then I discovered from the discussion that it must have been when Steve's mom passed and he had no one left. I came back to the present with Bucky. I could sense the recognition set in. Bucky finally knew him. He knew his best friend, Steven Rogers.

BUCKY POV

___________

I could sense an immediate halt in conversation and for it, I was grateful. I walked to the other end of the aircraft and sat beside the table (Y/n) lay upon. I watched her for a few moments until I knew the tears would overflow and be seen by watchful eyes. I chose instead to drop my head and let the tears fall to the floor.

"Shit," I thought. " Now I'll have to wipe them up somehow or someone could fall. (Y/n) could fall if something happened and she awoke before we exited the aircraft. I attempted to wipe my eyes as I brushed back my hair, lifting my head. I decided what I would do would be to sit on the floor of the craft in hopes that no one would realize why and they'd only think I was slightly more odd than they originally thought.

I began to shift to the floor but just as I was about to sit and slide over the petite puddle it seemed to disappear. What kind of place were these people from? I retuned to where I had been sitting and it wasn't long before I heard Okoye announce:

"We're here."

I saw a holographic shield open that wouldn't be seen by the naked eye and soon enough we were landing inside a mounain. It reminded me just slightly of the way Hydra had hidden themselves within the mountains in the Alps. I pushed the thought from my mind quickly. These people had done nothing but help me, help us, thus far. I would remain aware, but I would not object to their assistance for (Y/n)'s sake. When we landed and the door opened, a young woman approached us in white garb that looked like a youthful twist on a doctor's coat and uniform.

"Mr. Barnes," it is a pleasure to meet you. She stretched forth her hand in a friendly notion. I took it and shook lightly. Her petite frame appeared fragile.

"This is my sister, Shuri," T'Challa introduced her. "She is the one who will be assisting in the process of reversing what both you and (Y/n) are victim of."

"But (Y/n), first," I couldn't help but interrupt, my breathing accelerating to a pace it hadn't reached in quite some time, teeming with worry and anxiety. "I don't care about me, but she has to be better. She didn't deserve this. She has-" T'Challa placed a light hand on my shoulder to halt my words.

"Yes, will do all that we can for her, Mr. Barnes. You have my word. We will help her."

Once they saw that I was calming down again, Shuri turned to Okoye.

"Will you escort Mr. Charscovsky to the prisoner's quarters? However, before you do," she pulled a syringe out of the beads on her wrist. "Did you want to question him now, brother?" T'Challa shook his head no. The syringe disappeared once again.

"Okay, well he will remain under for another few days if you do not wish me to dose him with the antidote."

"We will help Ms. (Y/L/n) first. We will give it to him later."

"Where did that come from and where did it go?" I asked, jarred from the technology, something that seemed more like magic, that was being operated before my very eyes. Shuri ignored my question, motioning to Charscovsky to be taken away and then for T'Challa and myself to follow her. She led the way down the corridor to wherever the next step awaited in this mission I was on to save the woman I loved. I tried not to think of how she would probably never be mine again after this, but I would forever love her and do everything in my power to save her from this hell I had inadvertently put her in.

STEVE POV

____________

I couldn't believe Buck left without telling anyone and had walked right into the hands of Hydra. After everything he'd been through, he just walked, ran actually according to Natasha, well within their reach. This girl...she meant even more than I thought possible. God...(Y/n), I can't believe she had to get caught up in all of this. I can't believe she's been turned. I don't know if Buck will make it through this one if these strangers can't help her. We're going to have to-

"Have I mentioned that I fucking hate this," Natasha's biting, yet quiet and anxious tone, broke into my stream of consciousness.

"No, but I didn't imagine you felt much differently." I paused. "For what it's worth, I hate it too." A memory came into my mind, rendering me nervous to broach the subject but there hadn't been a chance before now.

"So, I want to ask, possibly discuss, something that may not be the most comfortable, and if you don't want to talk about it just tell me to shut up, okay?" She side-eyed me.

"Okay."

"I learned something new, at least as long as (Y/n) was telling the truth." I swallowed hard before continuing. "You and Buck?"

"Shit," was all she responded for a moment. "How did that come up? And when?"

"Right before they saw each other in the park. She thought you two had rekindled something. She tried to be happy about it. She said how y'all were better suited for each other." I waited but Nat didn't respond. After a few moments, I continued. "Like I said, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Basically I wanted to apologize for being an idiot. I've probably not made things easier for you when I-"

"Shut up, Steve," she said bluntly. I looked away but happened to see her turn towards me and smirk. "I accept and appreciate your unnecessary apology." She hesitated but then seemed to exhale so much more than words. "I've loved him for years, of course. I thought I had lost him for quite some time, but I still held him in my heart, no matter how much it hurt. Then he came back, he appeared out of nowhere just like he did then and my heart...I didn't think I could take it. I'll be honest, I loathed (Y/n) with all of my being even bef-"

"Oh trust me, we were all aware," I couldn't stop myself from interrupting playfully, to which she only mock gawked before rolling her eyes but persisted with her story.

"Well as I as saying, I loathed her before I knew her, when I met her, even when she left, but when she left, I loathed her less. It didn't have anything to do with her attempting to fight back against the Winter Soldier to save my life-I don't want that to be mistaken as to why- but when Jam-Barnes came back to her...I knew. I knew it was over for us. I can't lie and say that the time she was gone from him, that I didn't hope that I could persuade him to love me once again...to remember me like he remembered her." She trailed off again, her eyes growing glassy. She cleared her throat. "But when she came back, when she was changed...in that warehouse before he accepted that he had to knock her unconcious, I knew-finally knew and accepted- that it would never again come to pass. I had my time with him, but that time is over. Even if she comes out of this unscathed and wants nothing to do with him, I won't pursue him any further. I can't do it. He loves her too much."

"We're about to hit the radius spot," Sam called over his shoulder.

"I'll make contact." Before she could finish the message, however, a voice came back through the jet's PA system.

"Ms. Romanoff, we are presuming." Okoye's voice flooded everyone's nerves, amping them up even more.

"Yes, it's Natasha and the team. Where are Barnes and (Y/n)?"

"They are together, but (Y/n) is still under." T'Challa's voice came through in answer. "We have not yet begun to work on her condition in depth. Charscovsky will be under until we are ready to question him. If you are willing to put your jet on autopilot, we will steer you in. If you prefer, we will send the flight patterns and coordinates to your system." Sam answered without waiting.

"I think I can handle it if you'll send me the positions."

"As you wish," T'Challa paused and spoke to some of his people. "Do as they request. Mr. Wilson, they have just been sent. Do you have them?"

Sam looked at the screens and saw the match. "Got them. We will be there in nine minutes."

"We look forward to greeting you all, and welcome to Wakanda."

All of us were shocked when we looked up and without much notice, everything around us changed. The scenery went from being what you saw on television to a thriving metropolis surrounded by African nature and wildlife. It was a beautiful sight. As Sam made his way toward the landing zone, I could tell he was getting nervous.

"I hope they're right about this. Or we're gonna land a lot faster than you guys want to." The mountain in front of us opened and it was almost reminicent of Hydra which only increased my nerves more. I was more on edge of what this sight may have brought Buck back to, memory-wise. I tried to physically shake the worry from my mind in a slight shiver. Once we landed, the door opened and there were a few waiting on us. I let Nat take the lead since she had supposedly met them prior.

"Ms. Romanoff," T'Challa said, sticking out his hand to shake hers.

"King," she responded without familiarity but with enough respect to get away with it. She introduced each of us to T'Challa and Okoye, his guard, and then came forward another young woman, in different garb.

"This is my sister, Shuri. She is the one who will be running the treatments on (Y/n) and Mr. Barnes."

"Wait, what?"

"I didn't mention that part," Natasha explained. "They intend to reverse what Hydra did to Barnes. I figured if I included that bit of information Tony may not come, too offended that someone else claimed they could do more than him." We both looked at him where he only scoffed in response.

"Mr. Barnes is this way with Ms. (Y/l/n), if you'd like to see them." She turned and led the way, the team following close, still slightly on edge, taking in the wonders of underground Wakanda.

READER POV

____________

Everything faded to black. I felt the remorse in my own chest and I began screaming for Bucky, not for him to rescue me, but for his pain. I never had any true clue as to what he had gone through. These glimpses into parts of his past affected me more than any concept I thought I had previously had of him. After some time of screaming for him, screaming "BUCKY! NO! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry," I realized that I could hear my voice. It wasn't a scream like it was in my mind, but I could hear. I was no longer silenced. I didn't know what had changed. Everything was still pitch black, but I could scream and that made me stop in my tracks, puzzled. The memories flooded back in the silence and I began again, like a looped track: "Bucky. I'm so sorry. I know. I know now. I love you. I know. I'm so sorry." I began to hear something outside of the silence...the faintest of voices.

"(Y/n), (Y/n)? Can you hear me? It's Bucky. I'm here. You're okay. I'm right here." I heard him say seemingly aside. "Oh my God, where is Shuri? Shuri!!"

Who was Shuri? Where were we? I heard the beeping of monitors and I realized it was probably some horrid trick of Hydra. Shuri must be one of theirs. I began to struggle and I could feel my strength compiling and making a difference in my restraints. The grips were loosening.

"LET ME GO! I'll kill every one of you for what you did," I heard my growl. I began struggling and finally my eyes opened. I saw him. My blood ran cold. My target, his face horror-stricken. Good, he should be frightened. I was able to break through the straps then.

BUCKY POV

___________

"It's okay, (Y/n), it's okay. I'm here. Bucky, remember me? I know. Do you hear me? Please, this isn't you. Don't do this. Come back to me!" Her words were echoed in my memory as I spit them back out in her direction, backing away only slightly so that she had room to stand. They seemed to only intensify her anger. In that moment I decided whatever happened, I wouldn't fight back. If she beat me until my death, I would deserve it and if I died because of her touch, I'd die okay with that.

READER POV

___________

I leapt from the table, iv's and chords ripping out of machines and I charged him. He was a traitor. He deserved death. I'd be the one who brought that about. My superiors would be pleased. I pushed him against the far wall and began throwing everything I had at him. A thought occurred to me. Why is he not fighting back? I hit him again, but slower. He was bleeding from the side of his eye, his nose and mouth. He remained conscious. I hit him again.

"FIGHT BACK!" I yelled, sticking my knee into his throat attempting to give him reason to fight for his life. "This makes for much less entertainment if you don't put up a fight." Still he did not do as I suspected. He tapped my thigh lightly, beckoning me to give him the power to speak. I pinned his arms down with my legs, letting go of his throat, feeling the cold metal on my skin. Something pricked in my mind, but I didn't know what it was. It made me angrier.

"I love you, (Y/n). Do it. Kill me. I won't fight you."

[candycoatedcatastrophe]

The Gods of Nokrath: Gods of Blood and Bone (epilogue)

Note: There are a lot of name drops sorry, but it is the epilogue. I will post a map sooner or later. Also Jasper is not human, she’s an anthropomorphic fox who is a demigoddess (she doesn’t know that part). Anyway, I’ve been writing this one out of order and I skipped ahead to this fight (fight scenes are not my forte), I hope it’s not too confusing. (constructive)Criticism is welcome.

The lamps were being lit as Jasper entered the gates of the city of Arkhgavan. It was getting colder as the day's end grew closer and snow had begun to fall. She hadn't wrapped her scarf around her face and plumes of mist escaped her maw as she walked the still busy street. Most of the citizens knew her here, but she still caught the odd stare and awkward glance. Jasper ignored them and took Streik's note from her pocket, he had never learned to read or write, so his note was two hastily scribbled symbols; the Torren elk and a helmet with an arrow stuck in it. She knew well what they meant. Arkhgavan's infamous tavern, the Shattered Helm. 

It was a place they'd meet after being separated for a while and it was the place they'd met some decade ago, a haven for people like Streik and herself. She looked up at the not so distant castle, it's icy sheen reflecting the quickly fading light. The many times she'd been here before, she'd never really looked at it, it had just been a castle like so many others she'd seen. But today it seemed different. She paused in the street, the tavern but a few strides away, and just took in the sight for a few moments.

Jasper closed the distance between she and the tavern and placed her gloved hand on the weathered door. When she pushed it open, firelight, warmth and voices washed over her. She felt like she was home. The heavy door thumped closed behind her as she made her way to the bar, she didn't see Streik anywhere, so she assumed he had retired early.

“Barkeep!” She thumped the heal of her hand on the bar to get the older man's attention.

He turned toward her and grinned when he saw her with his one eye. He stepped over and leaned forward on the bar, bracing himself with thick, hairy arms. Jasper had never gotten his name, but he always reminded her of a friendly bear. “Hey there, vixen. What can I do ya for?” He asked in his huskily accented baritone.

“Seen Streik around?” She leaned against the bar and cocked her head to the right as she spoke.

The barkeeper shook his head. “Not for a while,” He replied.

“Of course.” Jasper straightened up. “If you see him, tell him I'm here.” The man nodded as she turned and walked off to find a seat near the fire. She was really feeling her wounds now and she thought the warmth might help a little.

A man wearing a terracotta colored cloak stood up in front of her, effectively blocking her path, his dark eyes and skin were out of place in Arkhgavan. “Jasper?” He had a Mersaali accent.

She stared at him for a few seconds, annoyed. “Yes?” She finally responded, curiously.

“There is a matter I must... attend with you.” He leaned in close. “Come with me, please.” The Mersaali turned and headed for the back door. Hesitantly, Jasper followed him.

“What is this about?” She asked him, but got no answer. He looked a mercenary type. Probably a friend of Streik's. She began to worry.

The man opened the door for her and a blast of cold wind hit her. She pulled her cloak closed and stepped out before him. The sun was gone now, pale lamplight lit the stone and wood alley behind the Shattered Helm. The door closed behind her and in the moment of blindness before her eyes could adjust, a pair of hands took hold of her and pushed her hard against the outside wall. The breath left her lungs and she heard the door latch from the other side. She sucked in cold air, trying to regain her breath. Her eyes focused on the face before her. She did not recognize him or any of the other five men that now surrounded her. They were all Katuskan though, their sun bronzed complexions gave them away.

“King Tajshak sends his regards.” Sneered the man holding her.

Jasper began laughing when the shock wore off. The men looked at each other questioningly. She moved her hand to her hip dagger beneath her cloak, still chuckling. “He sent you to kill me? He sent six of you?”

“What's so funny about that?” The Katuskan hissed, tightening his grip and leaning closer.

Jasper stopped laughing, flicked the tip of the dagger out and drove it through her cloak into the man's gut, then dragged it across, spilling his hot blood onto her cloak and tunic. He stared at her for a heartbeat, eyes wide open with horror. She put one foot on his hip and shoved him away from her. She looked at the rest of them, dagger dripping blood, the man now writhing before her, futilely trying to stuff his intestines back inside. Jasper lowered her muzzle.

“It might not be enough.” She said flatly.

“Kill her.” One of the other men snarled.

Jasper threw off her cloak and drew her sword in the same motion and launched herself at the nearest assassin. His blade came up too slowly and his head rolled across the flagstones beside the first, still screaming assailant. She used his decapitated body as a shield from the next, then whipped it into two of the others after she drove her dagger to the hilt into the third man's throat. The sixth man, she hadn't gotten to yet, had drawn a bow and notched an arrow. He was backing away, training the arrow on Jasper. She barely dodged the loosed arrow, then crouched, growling and took a quick glance around. The two men she'd knocked over with the corpse had righted themselves and were sizing her up as the archer notched another arrow. The stones and fresh snow were soaked with blood now, the first man finally lay somewhat still, moaning quietly, holding his own spilled innards. The man she'd stabbed in the throat lay gurgling beside her, hands gripping at his throat where her dagger still protruded. Jasper's hot breath steamed in the night air and for a moment everything was still.

The archer released his arrow and Jasper rolled out of the way, then charged the fourth man. He was better prepared for her and was able to block her attack. The fifth closed in behind her and she wasn't fast enough. He drove his knife into the middle of her back, barely missing her spine. She spun away from the fourth, blade raised and nearly took the fifth man's head off. The fourth man slashed at her and she staggered backward. Before she could catch herself, an arrow struck the left side of her chest. She fell to her knees and looked up at the remaining two, gasping in the frigid wind. The assassin approached her wearing a cocky grin, the archer waited further away, another arrow ready.

“I can't believe it will be me to kill you. I will be a legend.” He raised his sword to strike. “I want to savor this moment.”

She wasn't finished yet.

Her breath rasped out and she coughed blood, the pain of her new and old injuries were making themselves very well known. She gripped her scimitar and smirked up at him. He narrowed his eyes and made his move, but she was quicker. With the tip of her blade pointed upward, she lunged, piercing him through the heart. His sword clanked to the bloody stones and he fell back, taking her with him. The archer loosed an arrow at her, missing her and splintering against the stone wall behind her. She couldn't get her sword out of the dead man. The archer was notching another. Jasper locked eyes with him, he was terrified. She pushed herself to her feet and started toward him, he raised the bow and she darted forward, tackling him to the ground and clamping her sharp teeth onto his neck. He screamed and loosed the last arrow, it skittered off somewhere into the darkness. He found his knife and sank it into her side before she ripped his throat open. When he'd stopped moving, she sat back on her knees in the churned snow.

Jasper looked at the arrow shaft sticking out of her chest. It had missed her heart at least. She took hold of the shaft, clenched her jaw and pulled it out, then dropped it on the ground in front of her after briefly studying the thin point. She felt for the knife in her left side, it was still there, driven to the hilt between her ribs. The one in her back was still there, too, but she didn't have the strength left to pull those out. Blood soaked her tunic, belonging to both her and the dead men around her. It was hard to breath, but she managed to get up anyway and begin limping slowly toward the street. In the dim light ahead of her, a familiar figure stood at the end of the alley.

She dropped to her knees after only a few steps, the alley seemed to stretch out for miles before her. The figure didn't move. She reached out her hand toward him as she crawled forward. The cold was all she felt now, the darkness grew closer. The figure turned and walked away.

“Streik.” The sound barely escaped her mouth.

She was lying in the snow, now. She didn't remember falling. Everything was fading away.

Everyone dies alone.