#because every person the two of them have shared has ended up six feet under

[thelilylav]

We only see each other at funerals

(On Jason, Thalia, Nico, Bianca, and their parallels/connections)

The Titan's Curse (Rick Riordan), @/anxiousmaya_, Right Now (Gracie Abrams), The Battle of the Labyrinth (Rick Riordan), Joan of Arc (Mary Gordon), The Lost Hero (Rick Riordan), Episodes Toward and Elegy for Halley's Comet (Lindsey Drager), Jason Grace (Riordan Wiki), The Gods Show Up (Michael Kinnucan), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), What the Living Do (Marie Howe), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), Planet of Love (Richard Siken), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), Tangerine (Nolune), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), I Bet On Losing Dogs (Mitski), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/abhorarchive (Twitter), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), Seventeen (MARINA), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/rollercoasterwords, The Tyrant's Tomb (Rick Riordan), @/the-overanalyst, Where Things Come Back (John Corey Whaley), Grit (Silas Denver Martin), Softcore (The Neighbourhood), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Frost (Mitski), @/moonbends, I'm Your Man (Mitski), Sun Bleached Flies (Ethel Cain), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Three (Sleeping At Last), My Art

[wttcsms]

these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

[judasofsuburbia]

YET ANOTHER snippet of my spicy six zombie au, this time it's steddie's fic, the one that started it all<3 i'm hoping to start posting this series by the end of the week!! tw: mild sexual content

March 10th, 1986. Excerpt from the Hawkins Post. 

Reports in Los Angeles of cannibalistic, brain-dead individuals attacking innocent civilians and transferring their unknown disease. Individuals look like they’re actively decaying and they’re typically sluggish but incredibly dangerous. Medical professionals do not understand how they are surviving with massive blood loss and in worse cases, missing organs. So far, it only seems to be in California and troops are being sent to handle them. No one knows how large these groups are or the most effective way to stabilize the threat. 

Steve Harrington is a decently rational person. He wasn’t before the apocalypse. Definitely loved to jump to conclusions and make a huge mess of things before knowing all the details. Spoke and acted before thinking. But now, he’s learned to be more level-headed. He had to be in this environment.

He is one of six adults with a hoard of teenagers and one pre-teen that are all under their care. Having five other adults, (if you could even truly call them that seeing as Eddie is the only one actually in his twenties), is a relief sometimes. If one of them is panicking, there is at least another person who can jump in and be the voice of reason. Steve keeps his freakouts to a minimum nowadays. He’s private about them and there are only two people who ever see him crack. Robin and Eddie. 

Steve Harrington’s libido, however, is not rational in the slightest. It’s no secret that Steve is head over heels for his boyfriend and Eddie shares the sentiment right back. They keep their PDA pretty PG around the others because the last thing someone wants to see when they’re actively fighting the end of the world is the two of them playing tonsil hockey. The two of them are rarely alone so they have to be creative with their sex life.

It’s not ideal. Steve longs for the days he spent with Eddie in bed in his suburban home, living off of kisses and sweet nothings. But it’s certainly not the worst thing happening to them on a day-to-day basis. 

The issue is that Steve’s horny brain loves to kickstart at the absolute worst moments. And today, he only has one thing to blame: Eddie’s southern upbringing. 

Eddie Munson grew up in various towns throughout the south, the longest being a small town in Texas from ages ten to fourteen. He started living with his Uncle Wayne full time his freshman year of high school and even Wayne had an Appalachian drawl to his voice despite being in Indiana.

It was safe to say that there was a certain way Eddie’s voice formulated from those environments. A decently thick Southern accent coated every word he spoke for a long time. After being teased for it in his teens, Eddie got better at hiding it. Learned to speak slower so he could hear what he was saying and tried to be more articulate. The accent would return whenever he was stressed, angry, or drunk. 

Today, Eddie Munson is stressed. They’re all stressed. The party split up in the middle of the night because the abandoned shed that they found after a long day of migrating did not have enough room for everybody. Instead of continuing to hunt into the pitch-black night, Nancy suggested that she and Robin take the kids who were still awake enough to keep going while Eddie, Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle took care of the ones that wanted to go to sleep. Those ended up being Dustin, Will, and Erica.  It’s something they’ve done before with no problem.

The only promise is that they keep their walkies on and charged throughout the night in case something happens. 

The other group’s walkies were not picking up. All of them split into the woods a few feet away from each other to try to page again and again but nothing came through. The adults shared a look that said “Don’t panic, don’t freak the kids out”. Eddie silently volunteered to gather them and gently tell them that they were out of range and just need to find which way they went. The kids looked a little freaked anyway but they agreed and started looking around the property for clues. Eddie headed back over to the other adult men and sighed loudly once they were out of earshot. 

“Robin didn’t take the extra pack of batteries,” Jonathan said. “I fucking told her to‒”

“She must have forgotten them,” Steve said. “She wouldn’t just leave those behind.”

“Shit,” Eddie muttered. “Who knows how fucking far they could have gone?”

“Even though they were swearing up and down last night that they were fine, those other kiddos looked worn out too,” Argyle said. “They can’t be too far.”

“Alright,” Eddie clapped his hands together. “There’s a path in these woods that they probably took. I reckon we just follow that until one of those sons a bitches turns around for us. Steve and I will lead, rugrats in the middle, Argyle and Jon, y’all are the caboose. Capiche?”

“Caposh,” Argyle and Jonathan chorused. 

“Great,” Eddie sighed. “C’mon Stevie.”

Steve blinked out of his little haze and took Eddie’s offered hand. He stumbled a bit as Eddie dragged him along, causing Eddie to look back at him with mild concern. Steve gave him a soft smile and a nod of his head, doing his best not to show the vile things popping into his head right now. Eddie raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes but did crack a small smile despite the tension of the situation. 

“We’re gonna find our pack and then discuss whatever the hell is knockin' around in that pretty head of yours, sugar,” Eddie whispered harshly into his ear. Did not help the problem at all, elevated it, in fact, but Steve kept himself steady with big draws of breath.

[direwombat]

*kramer voice* it’s like a wednesday in here. 

tagged by @funkypoacher​, @socially-awkward-skeleton​, and @adelaidedrubman​ to share some wippy stuff today

tagging: @strangefable​, @natesofrellis​, @thomrainer​, @confidentandgood​, @noetikat​, @aceghosts​, @strafethesesinners​, @schoute​, @purplehairsecretlair​, @sstewyhosseini​, @harmonyowl and anyone else wanting to share what they have!

stringing words together has been difficult recently, but here’s something vaguely coherent:

When Sybille calls Jacob to meet her in the mountains, she has every intention of killing him. 

It was a decision she had made a long time ago. All of the Seeds are dangerous in their own right. John is volatile. Joseph is cunning. Even Faith has a way of distorting reality to her whims. But she’s confident she can find a non-violent solution to neutralize and bring those three to justice. Jacob, on the other hand, based on what she knows about him -- and she knows more than most -- he’s not going to give her any other choice. He’ll die for the Project. For his family. And she gets the distinct feeling that the only way she can bring the others to justice is if he’s six feet under. 

Without him, the Cult loses its strength. They’ll be weak. Vulnerable. It’ll only be a matter of time before they crumble and fall apart entirely. 

It’s the smart, tactical move. 

Killing Jacob means a swifter victory. 

It also means killing the only person who’s ever seen her for who she truly is. Not the big sister or quasi-mother figure her brother sees. Not the Deputy or some sort of savior the rest of the county thinks she is. 

Her. He sees her. A woman whose fear is only overpowered by her stubbornness and who desperately fights to protect the people of the county because if she can’t do that, then what fucking good is she? He sees how she shoulders the burden of Soldier and Commander. How she bears the familiar mantle and ignores the consuming dread that when this is all said and done, they’re just going to discard her the same way the military did when they deemed her unfit for further service. 

Some people -- people like Joseph -- are born for greatness. But people like her, and people like Jacob? They’re born to die, because in the end, they're more useful as martyrs. Tools used to forge the path of victory. Never the victors themselves. 

He understands this, and aside from herself, she thinks he’s the only person in the damn county who does. She just wishes he also saw the tragedy in it too. 

Which only fucking makes this all the more fucking difficult. To say things are complicated between the two of them would be an understatement. The intense eye contact. The clandestine meetings. The way he fucks and gives her everything she didn’t know she needed -- only you, only you, only you. She’ll never admit it because admitting it would make it real, but there’s a not insignificant part of her that thinks she might love him. 

But this is war. Her feelings have no place here and she can’t let them cloud her judgment. She’s better -- stronger -- than that. 

So, she called Jacob on their private channel under the usual pretense and told him to pick her up on the road towards their cabin.

[skaterboyfriend]

If Sam or Vincent (grown up) decided to enlist in the army what would be their parents opinions/ reactions? And when I say parents I mean kent. Greetings♥︎

hi val! <3 okay so i think this would be a very interesting conversation with kent- in reality, i think the boys would know to very well stay the hell away from the army! they've seen up-close and personal how dangerous it is: the fear left in their families' hearts, the prospect of dying every minute upon the battlefield, the trauma from returning back home- how the army and its toll will always crawl on your back until you're six feet under... but i'll entertain this idea if somehow sam/vincent flirted with the idea of the army and how kent would react, under the cut! thank you for this thought experiment <3 have a lovely dayyyy!!

note: my chemical romance's Gun. really embodies the way i view kent's relationship to the army - the "abundances" the army promises of prestige and glory but moreso the fear it instills upon the idea of dying for a government who enlists men like they're chess pieces or how he very well could leave sam fatherless, jodi a widow ...

SAM

one summer many years back, kent took a week to travel back home to spend sam's 12th birthday with his family. the two woke up bright and early, kent planning a trip with him to the secluded little fishing nook his own father took him what seemed a lifetime ago. the two would barely break the silence, maybe a few superficial comments about the clouds, the water rippling about... it had been an hour or so when sam began asking about the army- what does kent do there? do they really force him to run laps at 4am every morning? does he handle real rifles? has he ever killed a man? the longer the conversation went, the more kent realized sam's fishing for information- but why? sam, with a furrowed brow, and a somber frown, simply stated he wanted to prepare himself before he himself has to be sent off to the unknown, to fight for his country. kent was dumbfounded- did sam believe he had no choice but to fight some godless war? kent put down his fishing rod and took off his hat- he placed a hand on sam's small shoulder, his eyes growing with fear as sam's own filled with confusion towards his father's demeanor. 'son, you know you don't need to end up like me, right? you don't need to soldier up, to fight. you can do a lot more good. a lot more good than me.' sam didn't quite understand what he meant at this moment- it wasn't until many years later sam finally understood, appreciating with his entire heart how kent took the moment to set sam straight.

VINCENT

and it was about a decade later where kent felt that same sense of worry and fear washing over him like a wave crashing down- he took the boys to the beach, the southern winds ushering that briny scent, overwhelming. vincent was digging a hole, playing around in the sand, as sam played a few melodies upon his ukelele, making up lyrics as he goes, about vincent's little swimming goggles, about the blazing sun, about the crabs burrowing themselves around their toes, all as kent watches with a smile. and then- that same somberness finds itself laced within vincent's small face as he turns to sam, asking if his older brother has to go fight the 'gotowo' empire- if he has to wear those clothes like his G.I. joe dolls and shave his head [vincent said that he really likes sam's long hair... he'd hate if sam had to shave it off!] sam is startled- but for just a moment- until he smiles softly and ruffles up vincent's hair to their erupted laughter. sam shares a smile with kent who is still paralyzed with vincent's question, and says how he doesn't need to- how both of them are safe all because of dad, who spent so many years protecting the two. vincent turns to give a lovely toothless smile towards kent, who returns it with misty eyes. and how kent holds this memory to heart, every moment- the love he holds for his children, he carries them like a gold medal upon his chest!

[e1igius]

the water rains down from the showerhead , light steam coming off of it. the water runs down taking on color as it finds it's natural path down scared up , muddy , bloody bodies. the shampoo in his hair feels foreign and strange , the clean water feels like trickery. as if all of this wasn't real. as if he's going to wake up the minute he opens his eyes and it'll all going to be gone. open wounds sting as soap cleans off grime and discharge , some of them are likely infected , they didn't exactly have first aid in hell. eyes blink open though the water for a moment , taking in the perfectly white shower , marble floors , tile & glass walls. light beaming through the window feels redundant with the every single light in the bathroom being turned on as well. they were back from hell. it didn't feel like it yet. his heart still raced. he still felt like his soul was getting squeezed and torn six ways from sunday... everything still felt wrong and lost.

the fingers on his ribcage are too familiar to cause surprise , the other's voice is low. his statement sounds accusatory. ❝ this shit's infected texas , why didn't you tell me. ❞ huckleberry doesn't have an answer. he hated worrying anyone , let alone him. and it hadn't really bothered him all that much until now , cleaning it was hurting more than when he got it. eyes drop from the showerhead to billy. water washing away months of grime build up , it's nice to see the boys face finally clean for once. a single brow rises , and huck takes the washrag in his hands cleaning off part of billys neck right under his chin , he's missed a spot. the shower wasn't big , and it certainly hadn't been made of to fit two full grown young men. the lack of personal space had never bothered the pair but that wasn't the reason they were sharing the small space... not this time anyway. the look of panic that had appeared when nancy had suggested they shower separately had confused everyone including themselves. five months of no one but the other , with limited quarters , and sharing an existence. being more than a few feet from each other at all times , the idea of one of them being in a separate room ?

the one time they'd even tried to down there... huck had ended up almost breaking his leg and billy had a scar down the side of his arm from saving him again. neither boy had it in them to explain the sense of utter terror that raced through them , billy hadn't needed to say anything. huck had grabbed his hand and taken him to nancy's bathroom and locked the door behind them. they had promised. together. everything they ever did was together. that couldn't change now. he doesn't think he can even breathe without the other in the room anymore , the way he had been shaking at the mere suggestion of the idea. his mind has wandered off , he knows because billy's been talking about the fact that they both look so much cleaner. they both look so much cleaner and yet the water is still brown as it hits the floor of the shower.

it takes at least another hour for the water to start running clean , an hour of them cleaning each other , laughing in the shower , making dumbass jokes about the fact that of course they had escaped. how huck knew they would all along. how he totally hadn't just resigned to the idea that they were going to die there. their friends knock twice , trying to understand what could possibly be taking so long in the shower. and by the time they're coming up the stairs a third time the shower finally shuts off. the texan reaches over billy grabbing a towel and dropping it on the shorter teen's long wet hair before stepping out of the shower himself and grabbing a towel. the mirror is a bit fogged up. but that doesn't mean he can't see himself in it. he doesn't recognize himself anymore. hair is too long , it's past his ears at this point... his eyes... don't look like his anymore. it feels like looking at a stranger. he turns away , focusing on billy. he instantly feels better , as if billy was warmth , and the sun , and all things comofort. eyes drop to the floor for a moment , he feels like he's held the gaze a moment too long , a soft texan drawl quietly asks ❝ hey , you think her mom's gonna get mad if i get inflected upside-down juice on her towels ? ❞

@kinghaargrove asked to shower with my muse

[ayazure]

For you, to say that Ayato was a good boyfriend would be an understatement. You knew that he was much greater than that. You'd even say that he is better than anyone, better than any person who has come into your life.

Ayato had the charms that tend to cause ripples in your heart. A gentleman who manages to sweep you off of your feet every time. His words felt like gentle rain on a spring day. And those same words contain assurance and affirmation.

In your six years together, he remained sweet and endearing. As couples, you two normally shared a few fights here and there. Ayato had his own way of dealing with these arguments. Whenever you find yourself leaving in utter madness, he would grab one of your wrists and pull you towards him for a kiss.

Let's just say it's an apologetic kiss. It would feel a bit odd because the roller coaster of emotions would flood your brain. You falter for a bit but you aren't someone who backs down easily. You'll ignore him like a tsundere until the tension naturally lifts up.

Ayato's lack of time for you results into these fights at times. However, he learns from his mistakes and tries to make up to you atleast. Just like now, after a long busy day at work, your lover invites you to a fancy, romantic dinner.

After that, he would take you on soothing night walks.

The nightfall showed a dark hue, twinkling stars were filling the gaps and spaces. The full moon was at its peak brightness, shining the way you two were currently taking. With the moon, street lights lit up the city park. It was undeniably beautiful and romantic.

You and Ayato walk side by side. Both shoes would clack and tap against the hard ground, harmoniously sharing the same pace and tune. Both hands creating contact with each sway, seemingly looking like shy teenagers who desire to intertwine them. You two would laugh at your own awkwardness.

You'd realize that these little things make every moment saccharine.

He always end up taking your hands though, and you'd take charge on intertwining them. You two would sway them again, at the same time humming the tune of a love song.

"Six years, we've come so far haven't we?" Ayato starts while staring up at the night sky. You shot a gentle glance at him, then your holding hands. "Indeed, yet you still managed to make me fall in love with you every single day"

Your lips form into a genuine smile and you may not know but Ayato's heart is jumping under his thumping chest. "You do know that your words have a great impact on me, right?"

You only chuckle at his reply.

"You're so sly, you always have a way with your words" he then say, sighing in fake disbelief, as if teasing you. "Oh my, may I remind you of yours.. I falter because of your words too" you replied as a comeback.

"Then, if I say I love you right now, would you be blushing instantly?" He challenges, a playful smirk can be seen on his lips. Your eyes widen slightly "That's not how it works I-"

He jumps right in front of you, leaning in closely. "I love you more than I could say" he whispers softly, preparing to lean in more. You close your eyes in advance, thinking he would kiss you. Seconds go by and nothing happens. You open your eyes to Ayato holding back his laughter.

"stop teasing me"

"I'm sorry ! See, I was right, you'd be flustered-" you interrupt his words, beginning to chase him in the empty sidewalks. He strides away, playfully muttering multiple 'sorry's. At one point, he disappears from your vision.

You'd guess that he probably decided to hide well.. somewhere. You hurriedly tried to search every nook and corner of the area. With no luck, you had difficulty finding him. Worry taints your heart and mind. 'what if someone kidnapped him?'

Just as you released a heavy sigh, someone taps your back. Quite hesitated to look, you stop for a brief second. You still looked anyways.

The moment you did, Ayato was down on one knee, reaching for your hands. You froze in your spot, astonished as your mind turned blank. Another odd moment, could it be?

"Y/n" he calls out and you snap off of your astonishment.

"You stole everything from me.. my heart, my dreariness and possibly.. my last name?" He starts off. This opening statement made your mouth slightly open in agape. You felt heat rise in your cheek and even the tips of your ears.

He gave a light chuckle. "I was thinking of a life without you but I can't imagine it at all. A bed without you there, not even a hint of your scent. Or possibly moments without your presence."

You listen intently as his hand caresses yours. "That's why I took the courage to finally decide.. I want to be yours, and yours to be mine for a lifetime. Darling, will you.. spend the rest of your life with me?"

He takes a velvet box from his back pocket. Opening it infront of you, showing an exquisite ring. The rims holding the jewel formed a heart. His eyes staring directly at you and yours. Purple eyes glistening with hope and realness. You couldn't be more emotional, your heart currently overflowing with shock and a feeling of being touched.

"It's a bit too sudden and overwhelming ain't it? I can always provide you with plenty of time so.." He slowly closes the box in slight withdrawal.

"No no!" You prevented him from doing so. He was slightly taken aback but his expression softens. You clear your throat.

"why wouldn't I say yes? A life to spend with you is worth a wish from a genie"

With teary eyes, he stands up to give you a warm hug. Momentarily pulling away to put the ring on your finger.

"Trust me, I'm the happiest man in the world right now" Forehead to forehead, he smiles in delight. His very own hands were caressing your face and you placed your hand on top of his. "I trust you"

You then smile as well before linking your lips to the most endearing kiss. As soon as a minute passes, fireworks bloom into the sky, audible sparks trail with each explosion.

"Hmm, they were a bit late" Ayato comments with a tiny pout. "You did this?" You ask him, being utterly amazed.

"Of course, I had to make every single thing special.. It would be quite embarrassing to do it on a mediocre atmosphere"

"Quite typical of you dear.. but that's what I love about you" you gave him a peck and you both watched the rest of the display with satisfied hearts and fulfillment.

Another 1 am product GSJAGAJA ! I hope you guys liked it<3 oh and ! Thank you all for 20+ followers, you guys seriously blowed up my posts too T^T♡ I'll be releasing a special out of gratitude soon<3

[cjsinkythoughts]

Inner Conflict

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Some Angst, Some Fluff, Sam and Bucky being idiots, Mentions of PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression

A/N: Here’s Part Three to my FATWS Series, which I’m making a masterlist for that you can find Here. 

Uh…it’s a little long, and I apologize for that. It doesn’t even encompass the whole second episode, only the first half, so a Part 3.5 will be coming out later today probably (it’s my day off work so I have all day to relax and write!) I tried not doing a line for line rewrite of the episode, but there are quotes from the show in here. Mostly it’s Reader’s thoughts and feelings towards what’s happening while conversations are going on around. Reader’s backstory is a bit more unfurled. It’s more action packed and more scene-for-scene of the episode than the previous two. Less emotions shared and less hurt/comfort type of thing, but that’ll be back in the next part probably along with more scenes not in the show. The next part I’m planning won’t be as long, it’ll mainly just be the Couples Therapy scene and a bit more angst with her and Sam and her and Bucky.

Because there’s four more episodes and I don’t know what’s going to happen in them, I’m kinda hesitant on spilling out exactly what is going on with the Reader and what her role was on the original team, but we’ll get there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to be writing multiple pieces for one episode, but if the other episodes are as packed as this one, prepare yourself for more parts than anticipated. We’re already on Part 3 and I’ve got Part 3.5 coming. Just bare with me as I don’t know what’s going to happen in future episodes! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it! 

(Not beta’d so excuse any mistakes.)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Walking out of the shower, ruffling a towel through your hair to dry it off, you froze at the sound of the TV. A sigh left your lips. It’s all he’d been doing the last few days - watching the news. Keeping up with the tour for the new Captain America.

You peeked out of the small bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the floor, brow creased as he watched John Walker talk to the Good Morning America hostess.

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” You spoke up, leaning on the doorway, still patting your hair dry. He glanced over to you, taking in the towel wrapped around you, before looking back at the TV. Seeing you like that wasn’t anything new. “Buck, I’m serious. Brooding over it won’t make anything better.”

“What do you want me to do?”

You let out a sigh, shifting your feet and biting your lip as you thought about how to respond. “I-I haven’t figured it out yet. But obsessing over the new guy-”

“Aren’t you mad?”

You frowned at his question, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I told you already that I am.”

He tilted his head, which he did when he was confused, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you show it? Why aren’t you screaming or cursing or crying or something? You, of all people-”

“Because it won’t help anything, Buck.” You shook your head, pushing off the wall. “I want to. But if I let myself go down that road…” Dropping your gaze to the floor, you take a breath, collecting your thoughts. “This is such a complicated situation, James. I’m being contacted left and right for a statement on the new Captain. People trying to see my reaction. Senators trying to get me to meet with him. I can’t let myself snap. I can’t.”

He scowled. “They’re still bothering you?”

A dry chuckle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Makes me miss the days when no one knew who I was; when I was the behind-the-scenes seventh Avenger. But I made that choice to come out, and I have to deal with the consequences now. Blowing up will only-”

“Even though I never met him…he feels like a brother.”

That one statement stopped you in your tracks. Bucky’s head whipped back to the TV, his jaw ticking, his nose scrunching up.

“Did he really just say that?”

Bucky merely nodded, his chest heaving as he tried getting his breathing under control. “Feel like snapping now?”

You purse your lips as you held in the tears stinging your eyes. After composing yourself, you moved over and grabbed the remote, letting out a tiny sniffle as you did so. You tentatively touched Bucky’s shoulder, silently asking him if he needed anything from you. His response was to open his arms, so you quickly got down besides him to hold him.

“He is my brother, doll.”

“I know, Buck.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head, which rested against your bare shoulder.

Your bare knees are pressed harshly against the wooden panels of the floor, and you’re twisted awkwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As long as he was comfortable, you would take the uncomfortable position. As long as he was being held, you would take the soreness it would leave. As long as you could help him be some sort of okay, you would take not being okay in this position.

 You two sat like that for a few more moments before your phone buzzed. You gave a sigh, pulling back and holding his cheeks in either hand. He wasn’t crying, although he was on the verge of doing so. You’d seen him cry before, so you knew he didn’t mind. For you it was a different story.

Bucky had maybe seen you cry twice since the whole Blip thing went down. And one of them was over the phone, so he didn’t see it so much as he heard it. You didn’t let yourself cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter. It was a part of you. The only person you ever felt comfortable enough around to cry in front of…wasn’t there. And you couldn’t change that.

“We’ll figure it out.” You told him, nodding gently and letting a small, sad smile quirk the corners of your lips up. “Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

The clench in his jaw loosened as your fingers worked circles into the hinge, making him relax and nod back. You pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before standing up, moving across the room to where your phone was on the counter. You assumed it’d be another government official or news reporter, so you were slightly shocked to see ‘Sammy’ flashing up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read his message, a slight pout forming on your face. 

“Doll?” Toned arms wrapped around you, warm and cool, his chin setting on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam. He needs my help with something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. “You might need help.”

“Bucky, you can’t go if you’re just going to yell at him.”

“I won’t.”

You studied his features. He was lying, you knew that. Of course he was going to snap at Sam for giving up the shield. He was mad and they got on each others’ nerves every chance they could find, so of course he was going to.

But you still found yourself saying yes and telling him to go pack a bag. You were never able to say no to Steve and it seemed that got passed on. What a nuisance it was.

****************

And you were so right. It was the first thing he said once Sam came into view coming down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“James.” You squeezed the hand he was holding, voice pleading for him not to do this right now. He huffed, stepping back to let you greet Sam properly, giving the man a hug. “Hi, Sammy.”

“It’s been a while.” Sam commented, pulling back and holding you by the shoulders. “You look good. Not that you’ve ever looked otherwise.”

You gave him a small smile. “You do too.”

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s short notice, but-”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really.” You insist.

Sam nodded, before eyeing Bucky. “Did you have to bring him?”

“Samuel-”

“This is wrong.” Bucky cut in, staring Sam down, falling into step besides him as the man started heading outside.

“James-”

“Hey, hey. Look. I’m working, all right?”

You rolled your eyes as the two started arguing, stopping your stride to take a breather. You used to joke about babysitting them, but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore and you were getting tired of it. All the bickering for no reason. The contempt they held for one another. Steve made you promise that you would look out for them, and you were trying, but they weren’t making it easy.

When you joined them again, you raised an eyebrow at the direction the conversation turned. How the hell did they get from arguing about the shield to what a wizard is?

“Ahh! Haha! A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat!”

You gave Sam a look as he babbled about how he was right. “Sorcerer Mickey has a hat. Isn’t that, like, how he gets his powers and everything?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Thank you!”

“Excuse you!” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “We were having a conversation!”

“Yeah. A stupid conversation I just ended. Now I’m gonna be in the plane. Feel free to join me when you’re done being idiots.”

They both spluttered, but you were already walking away, leaving no room for arguments. As you loaded onto the plane, you spotted the Lieutenant whom Sam mentioned who had been helping him out with missions. Torres, you thought, remembering his name from a previous phone call with your friend.

“You Lieutenant Torres?” You asked, walking up to him.

He blinked, before his eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. He seemed young, which you were perfectly okay with considering you’ve been working alongside old men for the past decade. It was always nice to work with a fresh face, which you found after you started working with Wanda and Peter.

The thought of the two youngest members made you falter, not having heard from either of them since Christmas almost six months prior, but you quickly recovered yourself, shaking away the worries you had for them.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N! I’m a huge fan! I’ve read all your files!”

Chuckling a little, you held out your hand. “Most of those are heavily classified.”

He ducked his head with a little blush, rubbing the back of his neck after shaking your hand. “I, uh, I might’ve…used connections.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, throwing him a wink. “I won’t tell. Can you tell me what’s going on? Sam didn’t exactly explain the situation.”

He nodded, getting into ‘work mode’, something you’ve seen in most military men, informing you of their recent missions and the group known as the Flag-Smashers and giving you a file on them. He was in the middle of telling you about his solo mission in Germany when your two fellas came in, sending each other small glares, but remaining quiet.

Bucky caught your eye and sent an apologetic look your way, to which you just smiled at before turning back to Torres.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay.” You told him once he was done.

“Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad.”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure. You seem like a tough kid.”

He smiled, before looking around and jabbing his thumb behind his shoulder. “I-I’ve gotta go, but-”

“We can talk later.” You promised with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Of course! I have a feeling we’ll be working together more, and I like getting to know who’s gonna have my back.”

He beamed and nodded, walking backwards. “That’d be awesome! Talk to you later then!”

You giggled as he turned around and jogged off, pumping his fist in the air. You turned to a grinning Sam and nodded towards where Torres left. “I like him. Seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. Very energetic. A little reckless, but he’s got a good heart.”

You hummed, the smile falling from your face as you flipped through the file Torres gave you. “So…Munich?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry again for taking you away from the search, but-”

“Search is off.” You informed him quickly, not looking up. “Until further notice.”

The plane went quiet, before Sam cleared his throat. “So…no sign of Wanda yet, then?”

You shut the file, looking up at the men whose features were laced with concern. “I’m gonna go talk to the pilot. Behave while I’m gone. No pushing each other off the plane.”

“Doll?”

You were stopped by the hand that grabbed your wrist as you passed Bucky. You shot him another smile, knowing it wasn’t convincing enough for him, but it being the best one you had. “I’m okay. I’ve just gotta ask him some questions.”

************

Opening your mouth to stop him, you groaned when Bucky jumped out of the plane before you could speak. First Sam jumps without sharing the plan, then Bucky jumps without having a plan. Or a parachute. Or wings. Or anything.

Torres looked at you, but all you could do was shrug. “I dunno what to tell you, kid.”

“You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“No.” You reassured him, shaking your head. “I’m gonna wait ‘til we land like a normal person and take my bike. I just have to pray that they’ll wait to do anything stupid until I get there.”

They didn’t wait. You’re pretty sure they didn’t even think about waiting. By the time you got to them, they were fighting - and losing, might you add - to six really strong people on top of two semi trucks.

Because why wouldn’t they?

Oh, oh. And on top of that, the fake was there, throwing the shield. The shield that didn’t belong to him. The shield that meant so much more than he would ever know.

“Hi, doll! Sorry we started the party without you!” Bucky shouted from where he was hanging off the edge, that close to the street and getting his head torn off by the tire.

“I’m so tired of babysitting you two, you know that?!”

“Oh! Sorry we’re such an inconvenience for you! Blame him! He jumped the gun!” Sam shouted, coming to fly next to you as you rolled up your sleeves, standing on your bike, using one hand to steer.

“Can I get a little help already?!”

“Sam-!”

“On it!”

Knowing that no matter how much they pissed each other off, Sam would make sure Bucky was okay and vice versa, you focused on getting to the top, where Walker and a buddy of his were struggling a little bit.

You climbed up to the roof of the semi no one was on, wincing when you heard your bike skidding across the pavement. There goes half your salary.

You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, considering one of the guys appeared in front of you. You recognized the fighting - the strength - and faltered, a memory resurfacing at a very bad time.

~

“C’mon, honey. You can do better than that.” Steve grinned at you, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Excuse me for not having super strength, Rogers.” You huffed out, taking it and letting him pull you up.

“You don’t need to be stronger than me. You just need to be smarter.”

“That’ll be easy.” You teased, stretching your arms before getting into your stance again. “You’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, who chose to be friends with this dumbass?”

“Everyone needs a dumbass for a friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m your dumbass?”

“If you want.”

The grin he shot you made your heart skip a beat. “If you’ll have me.”

~

You blinked, but Steve wasn’t in front of you anymore and you weren’t in the gym in DC. 

The guy caught the punch you distractedly threw and twisted your arm, making you cry out, kicking him in the back of the knee and flipping him over your shoulder.

You went to kick him again, but he caught your leg and threw you against the side of the other semi. You were able to grab onto where Bucky had ripped through the side, but you winced as the metal cut through your palm. Sam had just flown under the trucks, taking Buck with him, and you knew when a fight wasn’t worth it, so you quickly moved around the truck, letting Walker and his pal distract the Flag-Smashers, before letting yourself fall onto the side where the grass was.

You wanted to lay there, to catch your breath and curse yourself for getting distracted. You hadn’t had a flashback like that in a while. But you didn’t let yourself. You had to make sure the guys were okay.

Standing up made you cringe; you could feel the throbbing in your shoulder from where it was no doubt dislocated and your leg was aching, the muscle probably pulled when the guy threw you.

“Doll!” You turned, seeing Bucky and Sam sprinting towards you a few yards down the road. “Hey, hey.” Bucky immediately had his hands hovering over you, scanning your body. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shoving his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“I think I dislocated it.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell happened?”

You gave him a weird look, starting to limp across the field to where you noticed a side road earlier. “They were super soldiers, Sam. And we got our asses kicked.”

“Yeah, but you know how to fight a super soldier-”

“It’s been a while.”

“Bullshit.” Sam side stepped in front of you, making you stop. “What happened?”

“I-I just got distracted, okay?”

“Y/N. Look at me.” Bucky took your face between his palms, eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. A tired sigh left your lips and you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hurting. My leg, I think I pulled it or something-”

“C’mere.” Bucky turned and crouched down, making you blink.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be walking. We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“But it’s just a strain, it won’t-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get on the man’s back, Y/N.”

You bit your lip before sighing and carefully climbing on his back. He shifted you gently, making sure to hold your leg with caution, leaning his head into yours when you hooked your chin on his shoulder. “You-you don’t have to talk about what happened. Just-just know that when you do…I’ll be here, okay?”

You nodded, moving to press your nose against the column of his throat. “Okay.”

But you could never tell them. How could you? How could you tell the world’s longest POW that you were having nightmares? How could you complain to an Air Force vet who served two tours in Afghanistan and watched his best friend get blown out of the air that you were having flashbacks?

You weren’t sure if it was PTSD or anxiety or depression. Maybe all three. It didn’t matter, though, because you didn’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t admit it. No one thought the Blip messed you up that badly. No one thought Steve leaving did that much damage. And you were okay with that. You were okay with them thinking you were healing - that you were fine - because they needed to see that it could be done. That they could be fine, too. Especially the men walking, Sam teasing Bucky per usual.

It wasn’t until a horn honked that you allowed yourself to be pulled out of your thoughts. A scoff left you when you realized who it was, switching the side you were laying on so your cheek pressed up against the cool metal of his left shoulder, facing away from the jeep.

You tried ignoring the guy as he talked about working together and shit, taking a shuddering breath, making Bucky squeeze your uninjured thigh. There was no way you were working with him. You couldn’t. It’d be like betraying Steve and you didn’t need that on top of all the other things you were dealing with.

You couldn’t deny the need for a ride though. The airport was 20 miles away and you were hurting pretty bad. You suspected that was the reason the guys relented, Bucky tenderly setting you down in the jeep between him and Sam, careful of your injuries.

You stared at your lap as Walker and Sam talked shop. You understood where they were coming from, you were always able to see both sides of the coin, but it didn’t mean you were going to willingly work with him.

“I got mad respect for all of y’all, but you were kind of getting your asses kicked till we showed up.”

You scoffed at that, finally raising your eyes to meet Walker’s friend’s. “Like you were doing any better?”

Bucky reached over to grab her hand that was resting on her lap. “You know, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.” Walker faced you, eyes raking down your form. Bucky shifted in his spot, but you ran your thumb over his knuckles before he could do or say anything stupid.

“Yeah. I know. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up for a week. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Walker frowned. “If you just answered-”

“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve been a little busy doing my job to blow smoke up your ass on national television. Sorry if my saving people’s lives has been an inconvenience for you, but some wannabe playing dress up isn’t my top priority.”

Walker’s brows furrowed and he was about to say something, when Bucky cut in, asking his friend who he was. You were already that close to jumping out of the jeep, when the guy, Hoskins, told you three that he went by ‘Battlestar’.

If the situation wasn’t so aggravating, you would’ve laughed when Bucky immediately told the driver to stop, opening the door before the car even stopped. “C’mere, doll.” He murmured, lifting you up into his arms bridal style, before walking off, tuning out Walker as he shouted after you two.

You pouted a little when you saw Sam still talking to the guy. “What’re they talking about, Buck?”

“Some nonsense about him not replacing Steve. Just trying to be the best Captain America he can.”

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest. “The best Captain America is Steve. He can never be Steve.”

“I know, doll.”

“Steve told me once that all he was trying to do was be a good man…it’ll always amaze me that he didn’t see he was the best.”

You missed the distraught look Bucky shot towards you, the look in his eyes almost heartbroken while you talked fondly about his best friend. The tortured scrunch to his features seemed to melt away at your next words, though, and he held you tighter as you curled into his hold.

“Just like it amazes me that you don’t know how important you are to me too, Buckaroo.”

[minniepetals]

Rose & Thorns: 09

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: dragon!bts x reader

— genre: fluff / slight angst / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 8.3k

— warnings: none

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Hi there."

Just two single words are uttered from your lips and Jungkook is reminded of everything that has happened from the very first moment you spoke those exact first words to him.

He remembered those eyes of yours, so lost, so lonely, yet still having that kindness within to try and reach out a hand in order to ease his pain even if it meant just a small dose. Little did you know you'd end up as a true keeper of the dragons, lover to the seven princes of the East Sky and Mountains. But knowing the rewards, in the end, had never been anything you were seeking for at the time, and his heart warmed at the single reminder of how truly kind your heart is. After all, before you could even come to that moment of happiness with them all, you had to face serious consequences all because of that kind heart of yours.

Looking back on it, Jungkook only wished he could have dealt with it all in a better sense. If he were there for you like you were always for him, if he had gotten to his lovers a little sooner to make them see that nothing about you had been false, if he had been there through your pains and tears, maybe you could have reached that dream of freedom and happiness so much quicker.

"Jungkook?" Yet no matter what he thought, you were always there gracing him a sweet smile with such precious eyes that he knew he would forever hold dearly to.

"Back from taking care of the little whelps?" He asked, driving his thoughts away from the memories in order to look at what was in front of him instead. Jungkook knew he couldn't keep dwelling on the past no matter how much it had hurt him. Because here you were, lips curled into a brighter smile and he knew then that no matter what he thought, you'd never blame him for anything.

But perhaps that was what was hurting him even more.

You walked into the castle, feet having light bounces to them with a basket full of laundry. "I'm fairly certain Namjoon will hold an apprentice ceremony for Haeun soon. Who do you suppose her mentor will be?"

He grabbed you by the arm to pull you back in front of him before you could walk right past him without a second thought, surprising you just a bit.

"I'm sure Namjoon will make a wise decision on that but," the young dragon drew both his hands to hold you firmly by the shoulders as he expressed a disappointed face, "don't you think you're forgetting about someone else first?"

You giggled under his adorable pout. "Don't you have to get ready for the afternoon hunting patrol soon?" You reminded him, causing him to let out a grunt.

"Why is it that Taehyung and Seokjin are the ones to have you by their sides every day? Why can't it be me?"

"Kook," you laugh, "you know your hyungs would never let me go out there to support the patrols. For one, it can be dangerous especially for a simple human like me, and two, I don't have a clue on what to do during a patrol."

He sighed, allowing his hands to drop by his side again. "It's unfair. Sometimes I wish I wasn't a warrior."

"Don't say that. The clan has both you and Hoseok to keep us protected and that is something I would never want to take away from you."

"I know. I just want to spend more time with you" He looked up to meet your gaze again. "But for now this will do." Without any warning, he leaned in to give you a quick kiss to your lips, causing your cheeks to brighten in an instant as he strolled away with a giggle, knowing exactly what your expression would show without even looking.

You were too adorable for your own good.

.

.

"Have you ever had scented candles before?"

On one of the rarer days when you were free from your duties and didn't have the little whelps demanding for your attention almost every second you turned your head and Seokjin was well on his own, you accompanied Jimin in the lonely dungeons as he made his rounds as head of the guards, making small talks ever so often.

There weren't many prisoners locked up for their bad deeds just as the time you spent there a prisoner yourself so you knew Jimin often got lonely making his rounds all alone each time. Taking that into consideration, you weren't going to let the opportunity of your free time be spent doing nothing.

"Scented candles?" You tilted your head slightly to the side with innocent eyes that always got him every time and Jimin chuckled lightly after dropping his clipboard on a table from finishing his rounds with you by his side and turning to elsewhere. "I've heard of them before but they don't necessarily exist around here do they?"

"They don't but there are tales of the scented candles being of great help to be of comfort for anyone in need." Your eyes widened at his words, feeling quite intrigued, and when Jimin turned back around with a few things in hand, your breath hitches. "The first person that came into mind was you when I heard about them," he told you with bright eyes smiling as he brought them on over towards the table at the center of the room. You followed him curiously, rounding yourself to stand beside him as he displayed the candles for you. "So I had one of our traveler dragons to bring them back when they had the time."

"Jimin..." You felt so touched by his kind thoughts for you you almost didn't know what to say towards the sweet gesture. But when he graced you with a tender smile upon your gaze on him, you were sure he understood your thankfulness towards him.

"If only we had these at the time when you were our prisoner." His face fell with slight dejection but you were quick to shake your head lightly.

"Having you to help me then was more than enough, Jimin, I promise. Then again," thinking back to that time, you giggled upon the memories, "would you guys have really wasted such precious things on me at the time?"

He sighed. "I'm glad we can joke about it now but looking back at it, we were so horribly rude to you I can't believe I let my emotions get the best of me."

"You were just worried for the little one."

He chuckled upon your words with a tousle to your hair. "I don't think Jungkook would appreciate someone smaller than him calling him the little one."

You gave him a pout. "And why not? You do it to him all the time."

"Because I'm his hyung. Though he does often tease me about it from time to time." You giggled knowingly, already picturing their small bickering when it came to the two of them and their banters. Having seen that, Jimin smiled from where he stood beside you and brought his hand behind your head in order to pull you close and place a sweet kiss on your forehead, surprising you and making your cheeks flare up at the sudden gesture without warning. He found it cute how you had yet to get used to their kisses whether unexpected or not but returned his eyes to the candles despite the shocking state you were still in.

"Shall we try one of them?"

With his question, you blinked in a daze before shaking your head to return to the subject, and with your cheeks still slightly flushed, your eyes darted back to the candles laying on the table. "There are so many different kinds," you observed with a slightly opened mouth of astonishment to which Jimin found adorable.

"I didn't know what kind of scent you'd prefer so I got the dragon to get a couple different kinds."

"Lots of them are flowery scents," you beamed under the lowlights of the dungeon as you went on to pick up the candles in order to observe them up close. Pulling them up close to your nose, you waft at them in order to get a sense of how each of them smelt, your expressions clearly pleased each time you got a new scent to try as Jimin simply stood there watching you, happiness blooming in his chest at just the sight of you so content. "They all smell so great even without it lit up."

Your face fell with furrowed brows as you stared at each of the candles, having a hard time choosing which one to try first and Jimin let out a laugh. "You're so cute," he said. "We can try every one of them now if you still have time to spare."

"I have all the time to spare!" You exclaimed almost a little too happy for someone who had come in the dungeons declaring the desire to help. But he knew that was just the way you were and for that alone, Jimin wasn't at all dissatisfied by it.

"Well then, since you're having a hard time choosing which one to try first, just close your eyes and choose."

"Good idea!"

Upon Jimin's suggestion, you quickly closed your eyes and hovered your hand over the candles, blindly searching over each one before you finally settled with the one to the far right. With that, you opened your eyes again and held that one up.

"Lavender," the dragon beside you stated.

"Lavender's wonderful!" You were quick to say with your eyes lighting up at the chosen one. "It helps relieve stress and anxiety," you let him know and his brows furrowed a little at your words.

"Are you having trouble, little one?" He asked, concerned.

"Oh no, not me," you quickly said with a shake of your head. "I want to share this with Namjoon because I know being a leader to a clan isn't always the easiest. He comes home later than every one of us after all and most times I'm already asleep by then. I haven't seen him around lately so I'm a little worried."

His eyes softened at your innocent kindness that never seemed to ever leave your heart no matter what and for that alone, Jimin almost believed that he was falling in love all over again. "We're so lucky to have you by our side."

You looked up at him and gave him a humble shake of your head. "It's the other way around," you smiled. "Do you think he'll appreciate it? Oh, but you got these for me as gifts."

"Don't worry, it's always best to share gifts like these with each other," he said while gently stroking your head. "I know Namjoon will be more than happy to receive this."

"Then shall we also choose candles for the others as well? I think it would be really incredible to build a storage room for scented candles so that whenever one of us needs it, we can always—"

"Before that."

"Hm?"

Innocently, you looked up from the candles to meet Jimin's gaze only to have your lips captured in a sweet kiss, leaving your breath to hitch and your eyes to widen as you froze right there at the unexpected kiss.

Jimin leaned away just enough to give you some space with a chuckle. "Your reactions will always please me."

"J-Jimin!"

"But," his brows furrowing slightly, he brought his hand over to slowly swipe his thumb along his lip as you simply stood there, staring at those plump lips of his, not knowing what to do, "I want more, little one."

"J.." Your cheeks brightened even more as your eyes were quick to avert to the ground upon meeting his eyes, causing him to let out another throaty chuckle.

"I love you."

He found it amusing in the way your face only seemed to flush even more each time he did and said something. Your eyes were shaking, not knowing where to look, and he was sure your head was swarming with thoughts of how to respond to him. Surely you were panicking upon whether to return those sweet three words or not and it brought a tug at the corner of his lips.

"Well?" He raised a brow, waiting for your permission.

You bit your lip, still contemplating, but Jimin went on to take the lavender-scented candle away from your grasp to place it back onto the table as he inched towards you in a sly manner.

"I..." You opened your mouth shyly.

"Yes?" He urged you on.

"I-I..." You stepped back out of panic but he followed right away. "Well..um..."

"Hm?"

Bravely, you looked up to meet his eyes head-on and Jimin smirked, satisfied with that. But still, he waited to hear your words and despite how slow you were with it, hearing it made him happy nonetheless.

"I love you too." You told him and he smiled, letting his hand trail down your face in a gentle possessive manner before leaning in and pressing his sweet lips to your own.

It's a gentle kiss like the gentleman he is and not long after your thoughts are filled with him and him alone.

.

.

"I can't wait to become an apprentice! I just know prince Namjoon will choose the perfect one for me!"

You giggled fondly at the little dragoness who sat beside you helping you with your duties as the two of you fold the blankets for the whelps together. "But before that, you will have to let him know what you want to be first, right?"

"Ah," she said, almost as if she had forgotten about the beginning steps first.

"Well?" You urged her on. "What would you like to be as part of the clan?"

She looked away thinking, her hands coming down to a stop on top of the white blanket that laid on her lap, her thoughts going on to stray away to the different duties every dragon has as a member of the clan.

"Unnie how did you choose what you wanted to do?" She asked you instead of answering, her decisions still unclear.

"Well," you started, ready to help her to try and decide, "I chose to be both Seokjin's underling and helping out with the whelps because I love helping. I guess it was easy to decide because, for one, I enjoy taking care of the whelps' needs, and two, I'm used to the herbs and remedies as I've often had to learn them myself without relying on others to help me heal when I needed it. Plus it comes in handy when the princes need to be tended to."

"You don't like just watching on the sideline and would rather be of help, huh?"

You nodded with a smile. "Tending to them makes me feel useful. I can protect them in that sense while they help to protect the clan as warriors themselves. I'd hate to just stand back and watch them in pain, not knowing how to help them. It'd feel worse than anything"

Haeun broke into a beaming smile at your answer. "Unnie, that sounds just like you."

You chuckled at her words and went on to tousle her hair. "You'll find your purpose one day soon. Take your time, no one is rushing you."

"Oh!" She let out a cute little gasp. "What if I worked as a caretaker as well? That way I can be of more help here in the roosts!"

"That sounds—"

"No."

The two of you turned at the voice to find Taehyung walking up with a slightly displeased expression as he handed little Kihyun to Haeun before shamelessly pulling you against his chest right in front of the kids.

"T-Taehyung!" You quickly gasped and were ready to push him away at the unexpected gesture. Only he wasn't going to let you go.

"You already spend too much time with my princess, you can't keep taking her away from me. I'm supposed to be the one who spends more time with her than anyone else, Haeun!"

You couldn't believe this was the reason for his refusal of Haeun's help but rather than taking him seriously, the dragoness let out an exasperated sigh as she stood from her spot with Kihyun in hand before purposely sticking her tongue out at the prince. "Sucks to be you then, my prince, because unnie likes me more than you anyways!"

He let out a dramatic gasp with the grip around you only tightening. "How dare you say such lies."

Yet she made no comebacks and simply ran away before Taehyung could scold her anymore.

You giggled at their little banter and turned around to face your lover with a sigh. "I would appreciate it if you kept the affections to a minimum in front of the little ones."

"Why should I? Those little dragons are already trying to steal you away. I'm just marking my territory so they know not to steal someone else's mate, especially one that belongs to a prince."

"You know they're just playing around."

"That's what they'd like you to think, those mischievous little brats."

You burst out laughing at how ridiculous he was, jealous of the little dragons and even having quite the serious pout plastered upon his face. You didn't know what to expect walking into the relationship but even so, everything had been so well you were glad to be able to laugh and smile along their sides no matter how many times you'd get flustered by the things they did.

Frowning at you for not taking him seriously, Taehyung grabbed a hold of your face in both his large palms and brought himself right in front of you, making your laughter cease almost instantly.

"Is it fun making me jealous?" The prince asked with a raised brow, suddenly giving you a deadpanned look you weren't sure what to think. "Hm, princess?"

Your eyes panned away from his out of panic, already afraid to be caught by the poor little dragons in case they stumbled upon the two of you. "Tae—"

"I'm right in front of you yet you're focusing on something else?"

"If the whelps catch us like this, I—" He brought your face forcibly back to face him again with a displeased expression that is quick to bring your voice quiet all over again. "Tae..." Seeing him like that was a little surprising to you. After all, despite the many months spent in the dragon clan, there was still so much you had yet to know of including how the princes would act as your lovers, and now that you were with them, it still felt a little unbelievable they would feel such love and possessiveness over you.

Maybe that was just the nature of dragons. Just as you've heard stories of them being quite possessive with their treasures, perhaps mating was just as if not more important.

Your faces were so close you were sure Taehyung could feel the heat of your cheeks against his palm. It made you even shyer so you looked away, not brave enough to keep eye contact for much longer, and just for that, he let out a knowing chuckle.

"You're so cute." His voice was low, quiet. "I don't want anyone else to see this side to you, princess. You're ours after all, aren't you?"

You ignored his words in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. "Don't you think, um...you're being a little too brave doing this right here?"

"I'm sure Haeun's got us covered."

"That's not—!" You grunted. "We can't let her watch the whelps all alone, you know that."

"Eh," he shrugged, not caring one bit, "she's a good kid. She'll take care of it. In the meantime—"

"Noona!!"

You were quick to gasp and pushed Taehyung away as soon as you heard the young voice calling your name. "Do you need something, Minho?" You asked, turning around as the little one ran up to you while you both ignored the cry of agony and frustration falling out of Taehyung's lips as he leaned back into one of the beds of the whelps, holding his face against his palm at the missed opportunity that was now ripped away from him.

"Noona I wanna play with you!" The little dragon exclaimed with a bright innocent grin plastered on his face but Taehyung knew it was anything but. As if to provoke the prince further, he grabbed ahold of your hands and dragged you off, not even sparing Taehyung a single glance, knowing fully well what he had just done.

.

.

"Y/N."

"Namjoon!" He saw you quick on your little feet as you ran up to him with a beaming smile that was just enough to slowly ease the weights resting on his shoulders. But he knew it wouldn't last forever despite wanting to keep seeing that precious smile of yours even if it meant for just one whole night, dreading for the time that was coming. "I was just looking around for you!"

He gave you a tender smile as he drew his hand along your face, stroking it gently. "Did you need me for something, dear one?"

"Mhm!" You took his hand, ready to run off. "Come here, I—"

But Namjoon pulled you back to stand right before him again, he himself not having moved one inch despite you just about to drag him away. "Can it wait?" He said, causing your smile to fall with a slight concern.

"Oh. Are you busy?"

He hated doing that to you. "I was just about to have Yoongi call for a clan meeting."

"Ah," you said, nodding. "Then I will wait for you in—"

"Actually."

"Hm?"

"I want you to attend the meeting."

That took you by surprise as your eyes widened a little, totally unaware that Namjoon would ask you to attend a clan meeting. Usually, he would have all the princes and his most trusted dragons together for a meeting first before letting the rest know of any news that would be important to announce. You've never attended any meetings before and there hadn't been one for a while so surely the things he had to discuss had to be important, right? So why would he ask you to attend?

Seeing the confusion written on your face, Namjoon began to explain. "You're our Keeper now, remember?" He said, reminding you of the ceremony that had taken place just a few weeks ago. "Must I keep reminding you that you are now very important to the dragon clans?"

"Well..." They've mentioned that but you have yet to know what exactly that title meant for you. "I haven't exactly done much, have I?"

"I know," he nodded, understanding. "Truthfully none of us truly understands how a human would prepare for this role but I need you to begin seeing this title as your new duty. I know you have the whelps to take care of and also work alongside Seokjin but being a Keeper will begin to take up the majority of your time now. I need you to be prepared for anything, Y/N."

"I..." The serious gaze he held for you made you understand how crucial it was but still, you couldn't find the answer as to why. "I don't understand."

Namjoon nodded again. "It is best to let everyone know first before you ask your questions." He took your hand and began leading you towards the one room you hadn't exactly been to before; the meeting hall. "But just know that from now on, the Keeper will be attending every meeting that is to be held."

Knowing your questions would be answered soon, you gave him a nod. "Okay."

The meeting hall was a grand hall that laid a large table right in the middle with twelve chairs surrounding it all together. Seeing it up close and personal itself, you could understand just how serious the meeting was going to be. Even Taehyung himself who had already taken his place towards one of the ends held a grim expression.

But upon seeing you walk in with Namjoon at your side, his face lit up just the slightest bit.

"You look tense," he joked as if trying to ease your nerves with his little jokes. "It's alright, princess," the dragon assured you with a soft smile as he held his hand out to offer you a seat beside him. You easily took his hand, allowing him to guide you to the chair beside him as the others began to file in.

Hoseok took his place on your other side with a grin. "First time here?" He asked almost flirtatiously and made you let out a giggle.

Not long after the meeting began.

"The three clans have gotten news of me declaring Y/N as Keeper of the Dragons." You could feel all eyes turning to you at the report that left Namjoon's lips and just for that, you felt a weird feeling drop within your stomach but you weren't sure exactly what you were supposed to feel.

Was it a good thing? Or not?

Weren't the Clans all connected in one way or another despite them ruling their own skies and mountains? Questions swarmed in your head and you were suddenly realizing just how much you didn't know about lots of things that were important to the clan.

Sensing your confusion, Namjoon began to explain. "There are four main clans. The East, the West, the North, and the South. The other clans that exist are the smaller clans that protect other areas that are not covered by the four major clans. The warriors live protecting our territories in order to maintain the lands that were given to us from the first beginning wars many years ago. We are allowed to go to war with any smaller clan to gain land if we wish to do so, but none of us are allowed to attack any of the major clans so that no one clan becomes one over the other and dictates the rest."

"Hence that's where gaining a Keeper poses a problem, doesn't it, my prince?"

You turned your head at the warrior that had spoken. "It..does?"

He sent you a conflicted expression. "Us major clans may not be allowed to attack the others to maintain order but there are other ways to gain power and look slightly better than the rest."

"And one way by doing that is having our ancestor warriors accept a Keeper into one of the clans," another warrior added.

You were posing a problem as a Keeper already? Just by existing? Did that mean you'd have to leave in order to not cause more problems and potentially be the reason the clans may go to war?

Seeing those worried brows furrowing, Seokjin turned back to Namjoon. "The clans have given you their answers, I am sure. What did they say?"

With Seokjin's question, the attention returned to the high prince once again.

"They will accept the Keeper as long as we grant them the permission to use her in the case of any major wars."

Jungkook abruptly stood up in protest. "No!" He said in a thunderous tone with a face filled with rage at the thought of even bringing you to the wars. "I will not allow anyone to use Y/N in any way shape or form even if it comes to our own wars."

"But the Keeper has her powers to protect herself and the ones beside her."

"Y/N doesn't know how to use her powers yet," he was quick to dismiss the thought.

Meanwhile, you look at Hoseok and Taehyung beside you with confusion at this so-called power of yours. You really possessed powers now? And as if reading your thoughts, the two of them gave you a silent nod both firmly to let you know that all of this was real.

"She can learn."

"And she will."

"Whether she learns it well or not does not mean I will let anyone take advantage of her and put her life at risk. Y/N's already gone through so much, you can't just expect her to suddenly be thrown into the middle of our clan's problems."

But you were the root of the problem so it only made sense. And you were sure you weren't the only one thinking that as you looked around the room, noticing the hesitation in the warrior's expressions as some of them felt conflicted on whether to voice their true opinion on the matter or not since they all knew you were the lover of the princes.

Sighing silently with worry, you spared a glance towards Namjoon who seemed to be the one in the most conflicted position. After all, as leader of the East Clan, he had to consider both sides to the problem while also needing to take in the other clan's words without dismissing it so easily.

As you sat there while the debate continued on, you realized that the only way the clan could have accepted you at all was to become a Keeper. That was the only position available to you as a human in order to be someone not only the East Clan could trust but the rest of the clans as well. Which also meant that this was Namjoon's way of protecting you. Because as Keeper, you were given the power to protect not just the people around you but yourself as well.

"Hyung." Jungkook turned back to Namjoon, wanting the leader to declare the words of declining the other clan's orders but you knew it wasn't going to be that easy of a decision.

The room fell silent again as the youngest of the prince addressed the leader who sat tall in his seat at the end of the table. His gaze remained grim with both his hands clasped together in front of him with silent thoughts swarming in his head.

It remained that way for a while, the room waiting for Namjoon to speak.

He closed his eyes for a second before sitting back tall against his seat and looking up to rest his gaze right on you. Your heart skipped a beat, not knowing what he was going to ask of you or if he had come up with a decision, and whatever it was, you knew you had to be prepared.

"Y/N," he called, voice uttered in a low octave.

"Yes?" You were almost too afraid of what his next words were going to be but this was Namjoon you were talking about. You knew you could trust him with your whole life. The two of you went through danger together, helped each other up, carried one another, and made it out alive in the end. You knew more than anyone that he wouldn't purposely lead you to danger. After all, even though he had hated you then, he still protected you from that great fall because he knew you were special to Jungkook.

If there was anyone you could trust, it would be Namjoon.

"The wars that the dragon clans may involve themselves in can be quite brutal," he told you. "There will be enemy dragons far more dangerous than the ones that had attacked both you and Seokjin. You have to, however, be rest assured that our own warriors are far stronger than you can ever imagine. I will do all that I can to negotiate with the other three clans but be prepared to know that you may be needed in one of the wars in the future."

"Namjoon—"

He held a hand up to silence Jungkook without ever diverting his gaze from you. "No dragon that belongs to the clans, whether that of the major clans or the smaller ones, will ever dare to harm you. Every dragon knows not to try and harm a Keeper who lives to protect them. So if and when the wars ever come, will you give your complete trust to us in due time just as the clans will do the same with you?"

Seeing that complete resolve in Namjoon's eyes which hides no lies upon his vow to keep you from harm's way, you knew your answer.

"More than anything, I will entrust my life to the clans."

Proud with your reply, Namjoon let himself give you a faint smile in return.

"This will mean the clans will want to meet her, won't they?" Jimin spoke up upon the possibility and returning to his serious expression once again, Namjoon gave a nod.

"The Keeper has much to learn then."

"That's right."

Customs and courtesies along with the history of the Clans and their origins. Adding along with your training as a Keeper, the need to protect the dragon clans. You had much to do but you knew running away from it wasn't going to happen so you sat there with a resolved look in your eyes, letting the dragons know that you were going to do it all if it meant protecting them.

They smiled knowingly, proud to have you as their Keeper.

.

.

"Can't sleep?"

Namjoon's eyes turned tender upon the sight of you joining him out on the balcony later that night. He held out a hand for you to take and you gladly accepted it with no protest, allowing him to bring you forward and wrap his arms around you to keep you warm from the night breeze.

It remained silent for a while with the two of you just basking in each other's warmth, comfortable with just the sound of the crickets chirping under the night sky filled with the light of the twinkling stars.

"I'm sorry," he whispered a moment later and you turned to look up at him with confusion.

"For what?"

"When I gave you the title as Keeper of the Dragons, I should have asked you about it all first instead of just deciding it all on my own," he told you with a grim expression resting on his face. "Now you're going to have to face some challenges that you weren't prepared for."

His voice was soft against the wind, but you could hear the guilt and heavy stress weighing against him, letting you know that he had been worrying about you with all of this now going on. The other three clans weren't going to give in to his negotiations that easily but Namjoon would be working hard just for the sake of you and for that you knew all you wanted to do at that moment was to ease his burdens.

"It's okay," you told him softly as you leaned against his chest to let him understand that you weren't blaming him for any of it. "You gave me a place in your clan and that is more than enough."

"Being a Keeper is not going to be easy on you. Whether it was the only title I could give you as a human or not, this will only make things harder on you."

You chuckled a little at those words. "You know more than anyone nothing has been easy for me in the first place."

"Exactly." He let out a sigh as his arms around you tightened with worry. "This isn't exactly helping."

"As a Keeper, no one can hurt me, right?"

"You're going to have to learn to defend and use your powers first."

"Mhm," you nodded. "And I will."

"I know you will Y/N, and I trust you with all that I have," he acknowledged without any doubt. "I know that despite the situation you're suddenly placed in, the burdens you will have to face as a Keeper, you won't let any of that get to you and will do all that you can do for the clan. But," he gave you a squeeze, holding you tighter as if to silently tell you how afraid he was knowing he had no choice but to send you away as a leader who had to make the best decisions for everyone, "truthfully I wanted to agree with Jungkook and straight-up refuse the thought of even involving you in any future wars. The little one knows you best. He's seen through it all, feels the most guilty out of any of us for not being able to protect you as well as we should have. And I know you don't blame him, none of us does, he was after all the one who fought so hard for your life. But because he had to go through that, Jungkook will be the one to suffer the most when we have to send you off to fight."

You understood that. You understood the fact that Jungkook's heart was so big he wanted to protect everyone he could with his power. He was there beside you, always feeling helpless he couldn't do much to help you in your situation knowing he had been less powerful than the rest of his hyungs, but even then, you would never blame him because none of it was his fault.

He was a kind, gentle, and loving dragon who refused to let any of his lovers get hurt. But you understood where Namjoon was coming from and knew this wasn't going to be easy at all.

"I will tell you this though," you looked up at the leader whose eyes were already on yours with a firm resolve in his eyes. "As the leader of the Eastern Clan and as your lover, I will not let anything happen to you no matter what we will face in the future. So can you place your faith in me and do your part knowing I will be standing right beside you in all of this?"

"Namjoon..." Dealing with the Clans and potentially needing to be used in some of the future wars would not be easy, you knew, but you also knew that you weren't going to be alone. So you gave him a firm nod, knowing more than anyone that you could trust him. "Of course."

He leaned in to place a kiss on your head. "That's all I need to hear."

.

.

The days grew longer and longer as you took your duties off as Seokjin's assistance and the caretaker of the whelps in order to begin your training as the true Keeper of the Dragons.

You were given a teacher who taught you the history of the Clans and common customs and courtesies to prepare you for the meeting of the other three clans and had to face a challenge in trying to understand how the previous Keeper had lived.

None of it was easy, knowing you would be alone throughout most of it because the dragons themselves had no idea of how to train someone with a position they've never had to face. So you spent most of your time in the large library mostly to yourself with lessons after lessons on the history of the Clans and the first Keeper of the Dragons.

Given the ability to wield the power to physically protect someone while having no idea how to use or control it was hard for a beginner like you, but you knew you couldn't give up so easily because this was now your duty. You couldn't let your clan down nor disappoint anyone.

Everyone believed in you, it was your duty to show them that you were capable of this position without any doubt.

If the other three clans blindly trusted in you to the point of potentially asking you for aid in future wars then you could not let them see you as a weak and vulnerable human who would make excuses on how hard it was. You had to prove yourself to everyone.

Not just your princes, not just your clan nor the other three clans, but to yourself as well.

You were going to face this head-on, knowing it was your duty to protect the dragons now as Keeper of the Dragons.

.

.

"Tired?"

You quickly shook your head as you headed back to the private chambers after another long day of studying. With a big smile plastered on your face, you knew you couldn't let them worry over you so much.

"I'm perfect!" You said to Yoongi who held on to a skeptical expression.

"Well that's true but," he held his hand up to stroke your hair with eyes that didn't blindly believe you so easily, "you know it's okay to say when you're tired, right? You have it very rough right now, after all. We can all see it."

"Well I'm a little tired," you admitted sheepishly, knowing you couldn't hide anything from them as he brought you in to hold you in his arms soon after. "But it's been going well, I promise."

"I don't doubt that." Seokjin came up from behind you to place a kiss on your head. When you looked up at him, his eyes were just as concerned as Yoongi's. "I know you're a smart girl who is stronger than anyone I've ever met, however, you must remember to not push yourself too hard."

"You often go to the extremes for others, that's why we're so worried, princess," Taehyung said.

"If it becomes too difficult to face this all on your own, you have to tell us," Jimin chimed in. "Preparing for battles is not easy but doing this as a Keeper is something beyond our own imaginations. We may not understand some things but we're right here for you, okay?"

"Once you're done with the first steps of knowing how to defend and use your powers as a Keeper, the next step is learning how we fight our wars."

"I'm sorry," Namjoon said after Hoseok, looking the most worried out of them all since he was the one to have given you the title. "This is a lot more than I thought it'd be."

"I promise I'm alright," you said with sincerity at their concern for you. You hated seeing them like that but you knew it was coming from a good place. "Learning to protect the Clans is a privilege. I'm honored to be a Keeper. I won't let you down."

"Y/N."

You turned to the sound of the last prince to speak and saw the way he stood a bit further from the rest of you, an unsettling uneasiness clear on his face as his brows furrowed while he refused to look at you at first. It was silent for a moment as you waited for Jungkook to speak.

When he finally managed to look up and meet your face, you could see how much this was affecting him and felt your heart drop at just the sight alone. Jungkook was so worried about you.

He held his hand out, eyes averting from yours again but still, you took it without hesitation, letting the youngest prince have his way with pulling you into his strong arms. You couldn't see it from where you stood just seconds ago but now that you were in his arms, you could feel the way he was trembling slightly as he held you.

"'Please," he whispered as he let his cheek rest against your head, "if it's too hard you have to let us know. You can't lie to us no matter what. If you don't want to do this anymore then just say the word and we'll take care of it. But I know that is not something you'd ever do because you are much too noble for that so please...please don't push yourself too hard for any of our sakes. If you go too far you'll hurt yourself. So this time, this time I won't let you get too far. I promise I'll uphold my words and protect you. So please rely on me. Okay?"

You knew to some extent that Jungkook worried the most out of everyone but hearing those words coming out of his mouth, feeling the slight trembling of his body, you knew how scared he was right now. So worried, so afraid.

He loved you so much so you knew you couldn't do something that would make him think you were only going to make things harder for yourself.

You stepped back just enough to face him again where you reached up to hold his face in your hand. His eyes were filled with so much grief you wished you could just take all those worries away in a blink of an eye. But it wasn't going to be that easy. Despite that, however, you knew you had to do something to ease the pain even if it meant a small dose.

"I promise, Jungkook. I won't go too far this time."

"Good." He said and buried his face against the crook of your neck, his breath shaky as he let out a sigh. "Good."

"How about this?" Witnessing that moment between the two of you, Namjoon spoke up. "You should take a break tomorrow. You've been working non-stop these past few weeks after all."

"Hm?" You turned to Namjoon with a slight confusion while Jungkook remained in your arms, refusing to let you go anytime soon. "But—"

"The clan haven't seen you in a while since you've been buried in the library almost every day since your training started. I'm sure they've missed you."

"That's right," Taehyung let out a sigh at just the reminder of the little whelps demanding him questions after questions on when they were ever going to see you again. "You know more than anyone how much those little whelps love you. They've been asking for you since the day you started your training and Haeun isn't making things any easier. She's gotten so grumpy I can't keep handling all of them on my own."

You laughed lightly upon the mention of the little ones, already picturing them complaining to Taehyung and bouncing around him for answers about you.

"Everyone knows you're working so hard right now," Yoongi stated with a firm nod. "You should take tomorrow to catch up on things and take things easy. They've all missed you."

"I suppose a day wouldn't hurt."

"Then it's settled." With that, Namjoon gave you a faint smile as he walked up to both you and Jungkook, giving you a kiss to your head before gently patting Jungkook's head. He looked up, still slightly upset about this whole thing. "Y/N's going to be okay," the leader vowed firmly. "Everyone's looking out for her."

"Mhm," you nodded with a smile. "So don't worry too much, okay?"

He took a moment to stare at the kind smile you gave him and seeing how sincere you both were, Jungkook began to look relieved as his face relaxed for the first time in a while. "Okay," he sighed with a small smile of his own. "I'm proud of you."

Your heart blossomed with love.

.

.

Two weeks later, you were to leave to meet the three clans of the North, South, and West.

Dressed in formal wear, you took a deep breath as you stared out at the view of the horizon from the mountain top, knowing this would be the first time you would be leaving the mountain and being gone for a while.

"Are you ready?" You turned at the voice of Hoseok who stood tall beside Namjoon as the two of them would be the ones to accompany you on the journey. Behind them stood the rest of the princes and the clan to bid their farewells and wait for your return. Scanning the crowd, you could see some faces of worry and decided to give them all your usual kind smile.

"I have Namjoon and Hoseok with me, you can all stop looking at me like I'm already going out for war," you said with a small laugh to lighten the dampened mood. "I will be alright," you give them the vow with confidence in order to ensure that they did not have to worry too much.

It seemed to have worked since many of their faces began to lighten up again.

"We will be waiting for your return."

"Please stay safe."

"Send word if anything goes wrong. We'll be ready for anything."

You laughed again. "You all worry too much."

"For good reason." Seokjin walked up looking slightly grumpy. "We're sending our Keeper away after all."

"They won't do anything to me, I'm just going to be meeting them so that they will know who the Keeper is," you reminded him.

"I'm surprised you can be so calm." Truthfully despite Jimin's words, you were quite worried but you knew you couldn't show that now. It wouldn't be the best thing to do knowing the clan themselves were already concerned. "You're so brave, little one."

"Mhm," you nodded at his words with a confident grin. "So trust me a little more, hm?"

"Stay safe, princess," Taehyung told you as he gently tousled your hair.

"I will."

Meeting both Namjoon and Hoseok's gaze, there seemed to be some sort of a silent conversation going on as Yoongi met their gazes before he turned to you with a small smile. "We'll be waiting for you."

"Mhm," you smiled.

"I love you," Jungkook whispered before turning to Namjoon and Hoseok. "You too," he said. "Be careful out there."

"Of course," Hoseok nodded.

"Shall we go? We must reach the Southern Clan before the sun sets." Upon those words of Namjoon's the clan tensed up again along with an odd feeling dropping along your stomach. But you knew you had to do this whether it was scary or not. It was important to the future of the clans after all.

Once both Namjoon and Hoseok transformed into their respective dragon forms, you gave the clan a formal bow of respect. "I shall return in time."

With that, you climbed onto Hoseok's back and the two of them took off riding into the sky, leaving the Eastern Dragon Clan behind.

[warmau]

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse 

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal 

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche 

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long 

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin 

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on 

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him. 

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.” 

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust 

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job. 

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment 

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion 

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief 

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is 

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on 

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else. 

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s 

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least. 

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’” 

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little 

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat 

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive 

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment 

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website. 

[whump-town]

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 

Warnings: Click Here

_________________________

Pt 32 - Me, Lu, and Five Times Two

He's me?

Confused you looked over at the older gentleman, your eyes scanning him up and down trying to figure out what Five meant. Everything seemed typical for a middle-aged businessman but then you noticed it. The pair of familiar eyes looking back at you. You looked back up towards your boyfriend just to make sure you were seeing things right. After all that commotion at the commission, you were worried your brain might have been scrambled. But when you looked back over you realized you weren't going crazy because they matched.

"Five," you called softly

Commission Five felt his heart jump as you called his name. He had heard your voice in his head and the imaginary version of you said his name plenty of times before, but watching you say it alive and in front of him felt different. In a good way. A very good way. You tried to step out of the embrace you were sharing with your boyfriend but as you pulled back he pulled you in tighter. There was no way he was going to let this old, mess of a man take you away from him. Rolling your eyes, you used your powers to phase through his arms quickly so no one would notice. Turning around you made your way over to commission Five.

Although he had met your eyes before, he now looked down at the ground. How could he bring himself to look at you after the mistakes he had made in the past. You died because of his rash actions. Slowly, you stepped closer and closer to him.

Although you couldn't gauge his expression with his face down, you knew Five like the back of your hand and had a good idea of what was going through his mind. You weren't told much about your death but you knew enough about the events that occurred. One of those events being that Five witnessed it. It was and most likely would always be his biggest regret. When your boyfriend had first seen you again upon his return he was emotional and apologetic. Since this was him before the time jump you could only imagine that this version was feeling the same way. Maybe more so since he was seeing you again without any preparation. You felt for the guy. That was still your best friend there. Stepping forward toward the other version of your friend, you slowly opened your arms before gently wrapping them around him.

Commission Five stood there frozen, shocked by the realness of it all. As he started to process what was going on though he slowly wrapped his arms back around you, holding you tightly like his life depended on it. If he let go he worried you would disappear from him again.

Academy Five on the other hand could feel his blood boil in a way that he had never experienced before. Maybe it was the paradox psychosis getting to him? No, he wasn't experiencing psychosis at all. He was fine! It was more likely because of the scum of the earth with his grubby hands all over HIS girlfriend! His eyes narrowed on his commission version and if looks could kill his other self would've been six feet under by now. It truly was a miracle that he was still standing, but every second more that you hugged that washed-up walking failure, Academy Five became less and less stable. Unable to stand you hugging him one more second, Five stated,

"Alright, that's enough."

Pulling you from the hug, Five wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, your back pressed flush against him. The two Fived glared at each other with malice in their eyes. You could feel the tension building in the air and shot a look to Luther for some kind of help. These were two versions of your best friend, you didn't want to make either of them feel bad but your entire existence around these two was like walking a tight rope. Instead of helping Luther shot back a shrug and it was with that action that you knew you had to try and figure this out on your own. Taking on a sarcastic tone you comment to Academy Five,

"Y'know, I knew we would have to deal with jealousy at some point but I never thought it would start with yourself."

"Jealous? There's nothing to be jealous about with him." Academy Five remarked, his glare unwavering

"Don't flatter yourself you little jack-off." Commission Five retorted

Feeling the tension in the air grow, you broke out of your boyfriend's hold and stepped in between the two using your presence as a divider. If one thing was true about Five, it's that if you wanted something he would do it for you. Trying to ease the hostility you suggested,

"ALRIGHT! How about we just sit down and chat for a little bit?"

The Fives continued to glare at each other. Their silent intent to harm seemingly having no end. Trying to get them to quell their mutual antagonism was going to be more of a challenge than you thought. Reworking your original statement, you added,

"It would make ME happy if we sat down and chatted."

You could see the change in their facial expressions as they dealt with the conflict between being mad at the other and wanting to make you happy. Obviously, one was more important to them compared to the other and after a moment of silence the two of them let out identical huffs and simultaneously agree,

"Fine."

Luther happily goes to sit down trying to avoid being in the middle of the shit show that was brewing before him. You stand there as the two Fives stand-off, each waiting for the other to make the first move. They had to prove to you that they were the superior Five. Rolling your eyes, you gesture to the two seats across from each other that still had pints of beer in front of them.

"Let's SIT." You emphasized

Slowly, the two of them start to make their way towards their respective seats, eyes locked on each other to make sure the other didn't pull something. When they finally sit down you head over to join them but as you approach the empty seat your boyfriend jumps back up from his to pull the chair out for you. Caught off guard, you freeze in place before realizing what was going on. Slowly, you take your seat as Five pushes your chair in.

Academy Five shot a shit-eating grin towards his counterpart. He was the better of the two Fives and he was going to make that known to the other one and you.  That bag of dust had nothing on him and he knew it. Commission Five on the other hand shot back a death glare. How dare that late-stage puberty sack have the idea to pull out your chair like a stupid little gentleman. You wait for Academy Five to make his way back to his seat and sit down before turning your attention towards him, to the dismay of Commission Five. Taking a breath, you put on a more serious tone as you ask your boyfriend,

"So...do you have any semblance of a plan to get out of this timeline, Five?"

Five's smug look drops as he finally realized that he wasn't actually expecting you to be here with him when he confronted himself. And now with his idea to use you as blackmail out the window any leverage he had over his counterpart was pretty much gone. Sure, he still had the main plan of getting the briefcase but that was about it at this point. With his lack of response, you leaned forward and questioned,

"Five?"

"Well...like I told you back at Elliott's, it's a Hail Mary." Five replied

"Which is?" You press

"I want to use the briefcase that Scummy the Commission Agent over here has since HE DOESN'T NEED IT." Five responds, annoyance evident in his voice

"Although a little rude in your delivery, that's a solid plan. What's the issue then?" You quest

"HIM! He's the issue. He doesn't want to give it to me!" Five exclaims

You turn your head towards Commission Five and see him scratching the back of his neck. He was starting to look ill in a similar fashion to your own boyfriend. You were concerned about his state of being but also about your ability to get out of the 60s. You needed to find out why he wouldn't help you out. Trying to be polite about the situation you question calmly,

"Five, why not? We're not supposed to be in this timeline, and that could help us get home."

"I can't trust him." Commission Five replies bluntly

You furrow your eyebrows at his response. He couldn't trust himself? Had he lost his mind?

"But he's you...?" You questioned confused

Commission Five knew that this might be confusing to you since you saw them as the same person. The problem was that they were two completely different people. One of those people, being him, who was better and the other version, worse. Taking your hand in his, he looked into your eyes and politely explained,

"That's exactly why mon chérie."

Almost on instinct Academy Five jumped up from his seat. His hands slamming onto the table as he leaned towards Commission Five's face. With a look of disgust plastered on his face, Five exclaimed,

"Don't you dare call her that!"

Turning his attention towards his counterpart Commission Five pulled his hand away from yours as he slowly rose from his seat. Placing his hands down on the table the two Fives mirrored each other as Commission Five angrily questioned,

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because that's my girlfriend, you geriatric cunt. Back off." Academy Five commanded

"How about you make me, you pubescent prick." Commission Five taunted back

"Both of you, sit down!" You demanded

As you spoke, you used your powers and quickly whipped the two of them down into their seats. Thank god everyone was too drunk to notice though because there would be a lot of explaining to do otherwise. You held the two of them firm in their seats as they both wriggled around for a bit trying to stand back up. When you could tell that the two of them had finally relented you let them go. As you looked at the both of them sternly, Commission Five looked back at you with awe. He had read about all the training you did in your journal but it was impressive to see it in action. Awestruck, Commission Five commented,

"Your powers have...gotten stronger since I was last with you."

"Yes, they have and if you two don't chill out I'll demonstrate how strong they've gotten by burning this place down with all of you trapped in it." You reply firmly

Luther looked towards you, his eyes wide with concern as he quietly pointed to himself as if to ask "me too?". Looking back at him, you thought about it for a moment before replying,

"Maybe. But definitely, the two of them if they don't calm down."

"Well, I would happily die if it was at your hand." Commission Five mentioned, still in awe of you

"Well, I'd die MORE happily!" Academy Five stated as he leaned in more towards his counterpart

The two of them leaned across the table as they glared at each other once more. Rolling your eyes you pulled them back into their seats with your powers and held them there again. You looked at the both of them as they seethed with rage, not letting up your grip even as they started to sit quietly. Sweat droplets built upon their faces and the air around the table was less than pleasant to smell. As much as you were annoyed, you were also concerned. They looked ill and the amount of anger they were outwardly expressing was unusual for them. You'd expect this amount of anger out of Luther or Diego, not Five. You were starting to feel that their proximity to each other in this one timeline probably was not the best. Maybe if you mentioned it to them you could get to the bottom of things.

"Both of you, shut it and listen. Now I'm not the prick who is," you explain looking at Commission Five before turning to your boyfriend "or was a time-traveling mercenary, but I have done copious amounts of time travel research because I thought I could somehow use my powers to get you back-"

"You tried to get me back?" They ask in unison, surprised at the statement

"Yeah of course I did you, dumbasses. What about the term best friend don't you understand?" You remarked

As both Fives were forced to sit there, they thought about what you said. They were always so focused on getting back to you that it never occurred to them that you might attempt to get them back as well. Like you had said, you two were best friends and with the evident fact that you loved him the same way he loved you, it was stupid not to think that you would do anything to get him back by your side. As they thought more they both started to realize that the evidence was always there in your journal. All the times you had mentioned reading quantum physics books, or writing theorems, or trying to figure out if you could open wormholes with your powers. Sure it was never written as a direct statement but all the clues were there to show you were working to get him back. If you weren't using your powers to forcibly keep them in their seats both of them would've hugged you at that moment. As you held them there you continued saying,

"But that's not the point. My point is that if I had to make an educated guess, I don't think it's good that you two are in such close proximity to each other."

Your boyfriend's eyes went wide with surprise and in an impressed tone he responded,

"Wow, I didn't even explain what paradox psychosis was to you and you already know it's bad."

"I'm sorry- paradox what?" You questioned

Confused, you looked between the two Fives for some type of explanation because the dumb look on Luther's face led you to believe he wasn't quite sure of what to do in this situation. You watch as your boyfriend opens his mouth to speak but before he can get any words out Commission Five jumps in and states,

"Paradox psychosis. I can't believe he wouldn't explain something so important to you mon chérie."

"Stop calling her that." Academy Five complained

Ignoring his complaint though, Commission Five kept his eyes on you as he continued with his explanation.

"Paradox psychosis is a series of seven symptoms that occur if you are too close to yourself in the same timeline. They include denial, itching, extreme thirst and urination, excessive gas, acute paranoia, uncontrolled perspiration, and, ultimately, homicidal rage."

Slowly, you nodded your head as you took in what paradox psychosis was. You silently watched them, your eyes darting back and forth between the two as you noticed the symptoms already occurring. The sweat on their faces, the scent in the air, not to mention the way both of them were itching the backs of their neck at the moment. Hell, you could've been mistaking paranoia for jealousy. Trying to confirm the situation at hand you commented,

"So what you're telling me is that you two are already suffering from this."

"I am not." Commission Five retorted

"Neither am I." Academy Five added

Denial. Great...

"Suuuure...it's totally unlikely that you two are on a collision course to try and kill each other," you remarked sarcastically

"From the looks of it, they'd probably kill each other even without the psychosis." Luther mumbles

Unfortunately, Luther mumbled his comment too loud. Upon hearing his remark the Fives pointed at each other as they simultaneously exclaimed,

"I'm not suffering from psychosis! He is!"

Worried by the new information on paradox psychosis and stressed due to the constant dissonance between the Fives you knew you could not continue going on with this in your current state. Standing up from the table you exclaim,

"Ugh! if you two are going to keep lying to yourselves then I need a drink."

Rummaging through your jacket pocket you try to look for some cash to buy a drink, but remember that you had changed out of your bloody clothes back at the commission. Realizing that you were out of money, you commented,

"Shit. I don't have any cash on me."

As you looked around for maybe some spare change on the floor to purchase a cheap beer with Commission Five pulled a bill out of his jacket pocket and extended it out towards you.

"Here's a twenty, get whatever you'd like." He said with a kind smile

"You realize this is a lot of money for this time period right?" You mention

"I know." Commission Five replied

"Alright..." You replied resigned

Taking the massive amount of money you head over to the bartender to get something to drink. The two Fives watch as you walk away but when you're finally out of earshot Commission Five turns back to the table with a smug look.

"Hm. Imagine not having money to give your own girlfriend." He commented sarcastically

"Fuck you and your blood money. I get steadiness from her and you don't." Academy Five retorted

"Steadiness? What the hell does that mean?" Commission Five questioned

"Oh, you wish you knew!" Academy Five exclaimed back

Luther looked around and saw that people were starting to stare. It was surprising they hadn't earlier but this was getting more awkward by the minute. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Luther tries to grab the attention of the younger-looking version of his brother. Leaning in towards him Luther stated in a hushed tone,

"Five, calm down you're making a scene."

"Luther. Can I talk to you in private?" Five demands

Before Luther could reply, Five grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him over towards the entrance of the bar where they stood before confronting his other self. Turning around the bar with a drink in hand you watched as your smaller, angry boyfriend pulled along his gigantic, dumb brother. You had no clue what was going on but with a shake of your head, you headed back to the table. As you sat back down in your seat you saw Commission Five looking off at the young version of himself. Trying to get his attention you called,

"Five?"

Quickly his attention turned towards you. It was nice sitting here with you without that loudmouth constantly complaining across the table. It just felt natural to sit with you even after all the years he was gone. Placing your drink on the table you slid the rest of the money over to him. With a smile, you said,

"Thank you for the drink, Five."

For the first time in a while, a genuine smile came to Five's face. After all the suffering he went through it started to feel worth it just to see you happy.

"No problem. You know I'd do anything for you." He replied

"I know you would. Which is why it doesn't make sense to me that you don't want to help get us back to the right time." You state gently

Even if they wouldn't acknowledge it, you knew both Fives were under the influence of their paradox psychosis, but the Five you knew was still in there somewhere. You had to figure out what was holding this version back from giving you the help you needed to get out of here. You looked towards him, waiting for an answer and Five looked back. Seeing the pleading look in your eyes, Commission Five knew that he had to say something. There was no way he couldn't. He didn't want to let you down. Lowering his voice, Commission Five leaned in as he explained,

"(Y/N), it's complicated. He wants me to jump to 2019 so he doesn't disappear and just let him have the briefcase. That's not a good plan for anyone, let alone you."

"Five, this plan is all we have. Even when factoring out the psychosis-" You start to comment

"Which I don't have," Commission Five interjects

"Which you apparently don't have," You continue "You're still being a little ridiculous."

"No, I'm not." He retorted

"You are! This plan probably benefits you more than anyone else. You get to go to 2019 just like you wanted, stop Vanya from blowing up the moon and be the hero who saved the earth from the apocalypse. On top of that, you also get to see a version of me that hasn't seen you since the day you left." You tried explaining to him "You get everything you wanted, so I don't understand the hesitation."

"I told you. I can't trust him." Five reiterates

"But why?" you pleaded "This is all we have."

"(Y/N), look at him. He's arrogant and thinks he knows best when he obviously doesn't. All he does is leave a path of death behind him with a path of destruction in front. He's just a pile of mistakes that only keeps growing."

Five paused his explanation and looked towards his teenaged counterpart. As he did so, you could see a glimpse of something in his eyes. Letting out a breath he continued,

"And he abandoned you in time. I don't get why you'd still want to be around him..."

You took a look towards your boyfriend as you processed Commission Five's words. There was something about them that felt off. Quietly, you sat for a moment as you tried to figure out what it was. And then it hit you. He wasn't talking about the Five across the room, he was talking about himself. He viewed himself that way. He couldn't trust your Five because he couldn't trust himself. Slowly, you turned back towards the older-looking Five, your expression saddened by your realization. Placing one of your hands on top of his, Five's attention turns back to you. With a sympathetic smile, you gently answer his question.

"Because I love him." You reply softly

"How? After all that he's done, how can you still say you love him?"  Five questioned, his voice barely a whisper

"Because Five is more than his mistakes." You emphasized gripping his hand just a bit tighter when saying his name

Commission Five didn't know how to feel. The remorse that he had carried with him still lingered but there was also a hope that was building. Maybe there was a chance that you could love him despite everything he had done in his life. But even if he agreed to this plan that you were going along with there was one concern that he still had,

"I just don't want you to get thrown through time and have something go wrong again."

"Five I've lost my home, my friends, and my family twice. When I leave this timeline it will be the third time I've left a home, friends, and family behind. If we can get back to 2019 I can at least get my second home back. Won't you help me? Please?" You explained sadly

Five saw the sad look on your face and the pain that you tried to hide behind your eyes. You always tried to make the best of your situation, he knew so from your journal entries, but that didn't mean you were fine. With that look on your face practically begging for his assistance he couldn't say no to you but the concern was too great to say yes either. Giving a slight nod of his head he stated,

"I'll think about it."

You let out a sigh as you took your hand back from his to take another sip of your drink. The two of you sat in silence for a moment and all you could hope was that when it came time, he would change his mind. Across the bar, Luther stood with Academy Five. He looked at this manic version of him as he suffered from the staged of paradox psychosis. Trying to ease the situation Luther commented,

"Five. You need to calm down. I meant it when I say that you were making a scene. People are still staring now."

Five didn't hear a word his brother had just said though. The only sounds were that of the violent thoughts he had in his head and the angry beating of his heart. There was only one solution to make all of his anger go away. Worse-Five had to go. Looking up towards Luther, Five responded,

"Luther I want you to kill him."

"What?" Luther questioned confused

"All you have to do is use your big monkey man hands to crush his skull." Five explains

"Yeah, that's not what's going to happen here." Luther retorts

"You're right," Five states

"Thank you!" Luther replies

"We should take him out back so no one can see." Five adds as he looks for the best way to get Commission Five out of the building

"Five, I'm not going to kill him at all." Luther clarifies

"What? Why not?" Five questions angry and confused

"Because if I kill him, he doesn't jump to 2019 and then you disappear," Luther explains

Five stops for a moment to take in Luther's statement. It was true that he would disappear but he still really wanted that other version out of his sights and away from you. Taking on a more neutral tone, Five stubbornly replies,

"Perhaps."

"And then I have to deal with your angry girlfriend because I caused you to not exist. And if (Y/N) is upset then Diego is going to get upset and they will kill me. Not ATTEMPT, they will." Luther continues

"That is a strong possibility" Five remarks

"And then the rest of our siblings find out, and if I somehow make it out alive, they will also get mad that I technically killed you. So no, I will not be killing him." Luther finishes

Five paused as he considered what Luther had said. Although he was still very much against it, Luther was right. They still needed his other self so he would have to live...for now.

"Fine." Five huffed "I just don't like the way he's acting around my girlfriend."

Besides trying to keep Five from causing a scene there was something on Luther's mind that he wanted to talk about with him. Taking a deep breath, he looked off to the side as he mumbled,

"Yeah...speaking of that."

"You think he's awful too?" Five questioned, curious as to what his brother had to say

"Well-" Luther tried to speak

"Who am I kidding, of course you do! You can see how stubborn and stuck up he is." Five interjected

"Actually I wanted to bring up something about the way you're acting," Luther replied

This was about the paradox psychosis again wasn't it? Five knew for a fact that he wasn't suffering from it. This was all just some type of side effect related to how upset the other Five was making him. Pseudo-symptoms due to his anger and frustration really. Before Luther could go on any spiel about the psychosis that he wasn't experiencing Five stated firmly,

"I'm don't have paradox psychosis."

Luther knew that denial was one of the stages of psychosis and Five was most definitely experiencing it but for now, he would put that aside to try and get to his point.

"This isn't about psychosis. this is about (Y/N),"

"Is it because I didn't have money to get her a drink? I didn't feel right stealing money from Elliott's place but now I'm thinking I should've-" Five started to explain

"Five, no. that's not it." Luther cut off

"Then what is it?" Five asked

It was at this moment that Luther realized how under-prepared he was for this. He didn't expect to get this far and now he wasn't quite sure what to do. The emotionally constipated man was attempting to have a heart-to-heart with his young-ish brother about a topic that he didn't even know if he had the words for. As a leader though, it felt important to him to guide Five in the right direction, so he tried to piece the words together as he explained,

"Okay, well. Y'know. I've just noticed that uh- so you've been using this word steadiness a lot and I- uh- well...I feel like it might mean something else and...I just feel like we should maybe discuss-"

"Luther stop." Five commanded

Even with all the anger and stress that was occupying his mind at the moment, Five wasn't an idiot. He could see his brother flailing as he tried to have a conversation he knew nothing about. Trying to stop Luther from making a fool of himself Five explained,

"If you are implying that you feel the need to give me some type of ''talk'' because of my boyish appearance and relationship status I'm going to ask you to refrain."

"What why? I mean, that's uh- not what I was saying...kind of. But why?" Luther questioned confused

"Why?" Five asked almost surprised "Because you are the least qualified person on this planet to talk about this subject. I would rather ask Diego knowing full well it would become a physical altercation than talk to you about this."

"I don't understand," Luther replies

Five didn't know if his brother got dumber during his time in the 60s or if he was always this stupid but it was only showing now. Either way, it was slightly concerning how his walnut brain couldn't even comprehend why he wasn't the man for this job he was attempting. He needed to try and explain his point in the simplest of terms or else Luther was never going to grasp it.

"Luther, you have been in love with your sister your whole life! That already disqualifies you from speaking on any subject related to love or relationships" Five states "But more so your one and only ''experience'' was with a stranger when you were under the influence. So for the sake of everyone, refrain."

"Listen, I just wanted to help my brother." Luther remarks

"You want to help me? Keep whatever you wanted to say to yourself and stick to being a spotter."

Luther opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but shut it quickly after. Was he really that unqualified? As the two of them stood there silently you were also silently sipping on your drink, your conversation with Commission Five only over a few moments ago. As you continued to sip though, you could feel yourself getting a bit warm. Was it the heat or the alcohol? You didn't know, maybe it was a bit of both. Even in November, Dallas heat was still Dallas heat. Taking off your jacket you placed it on the back of your chair before placing your arms on the cool tabletop. As you placed your arms on the table, out of the corner of his eye Commission Five noticed something on your arm. Carefully, he reached his hand out and lightly brushed the red spot on your arm. Even the lightest touch though sent a shot of pain through your arm causing you to pull it back quickly. Your boyfriend, noticing this sudden action from across the room, quickly rushed back over with Luther following close behind.

"What did you do to her?" He demanded angrily

"Nothing!" Commission Five quickly replied, "You think I would hurt her?"

"I don't know. The word of a hitman doesn't seem reliable to me." Academy Five critiques

"But you were a hitman two weeks ago."  Luther comments

"Irrelevant." Academy Five retorts

Ignoring the conflict between the two, you looked at the wound on your arm. It wasn't huge but even cauterized it still didn't look good. As your boyfriend kept his eyes trained on Commission Five you added,

"Five, he didn't do this."

This? Five turned his gaze away from himself and towards you. His eyes went wide as he finally noticed your injury. Sitting down in his seat he carefully grabs your hand and brings your arm closer to him. Gently, he ran his fingers over the wound causing you to wince slightly. His anger morphed into concern as he saw your pained reaction. Looking at the injury once more he recognized him exactly what it was. In a worried tone, Five said,

"Darling, this looks like it came from a gunshot."

Hearing those words Commission Five leaned in to get a better look at the injury. It didn't take long for him to agree that it came from a gun but he wouldn't agree out loud with the little twerp about that.

"It just grazed me, I'm fine." You quickly explained, "And anyway I cauterized it."

"So it is a gunshot wound." Commission Five commented

Your eyes went wide. In your haste to try and make everyone less worried by saying you were fine, you instead just admitted to being shot. In front of both Fives. Instead of saying any more you opted for silence and bit your tongue. Through that silence though the wheels started turning in the heads of the Fives. You watched as their eyes started to widen and the mix of concern and anger spread over their faces.

"How did this happen?" Commission Five asked frantically

"Who did this to you?!" Academy Five demanded

You weren't getting out of this, were you?  This was not going to go over well. Taking a deep breath, you let it out before starting to explain,

"Well that's a funny story...you see when I went out to look for Charlie, I actually got drugged and kidnapped by Lila."

"You were kidnapped by Lila?!" Five exclaimed

"Yeah, I got taken to the Commission isn't that crazy?" You try to joke nervously

"You were taken to the Commission?" Commission Five questioned alarmed

"I was and I had the displeasure of meeting your boss, The Handler." You stated

"YOU MET THE HANDLER?!" Both Fives shout

You could see the negative look on both of their faces. Nobody wanted to be in the situation you were in now but if they were going to find out then you might as well be honest with the two of them. Letting go of your reservations to not draw their concern you explain,

"I did and she's really cocky, not as smart as she thinks she is, and is totally jealous of the fact that I'm dating you. Like she tried to insinuate that you and she slept together."

Disgust filled the expressions of both Fives. How dare that even be a thought in the handler's mind. Neither Five liked the Commission and even more so did they hate working under her. That woman was insane. Repulsed by even the thought of her statement to you, Commission Five quickly replied,

"What? Absolutely not."

"I would say unbelievable but that sounds just like something she would pull. And per usual she is 100% lying." Academy Five added annoyed

"Yeah, she seemed like a manipulative bitch, but I knew she was bullshitting it. I don't think she likes me very much though. I made her pretty mad and she threatened to kill me." You reply nonchalantly

"She threatened your life?" Commission Five questioned

"(Y/N), I swear if she so much as laid a hand on you-" Your boyfriend threatened

You didn't know what to tell him. Obviously, she had laid a hand on you when she grabbed your face but if you told him so you had no clue how he would react. With your silence, you had said all that Five needed to hear. In a low tone, he stated,

"Her time is running out. I'm going to make sure of it."

There was something about the look in his eyes when he said that, that made you go quiet for a moment. You had seen many different emotions cross it before but this was different. It wasn't quite anger, nor concern. No, it was...intent. This wasn't just a promise of her demise, it was a guarantee.

"Sorry to interrupt but you still haven't explained how you got that," Luther said, breaking the silence

"Oh right! So I escaped and then I blew up someplace called the tube room because it looked important and so they sent security to stop me. And I was surrounded, right? So I committed a massacre and killed all of them. Like I turned that white marble red. Total blood bath. Anyway, one of them wasn't fully dead so they shot at me and it grazed my arm, so I went back and I pulled out his beating heart. And now I'm here, with you guys!"

"I feel like there's a lot more missing from that statement and yet there is already so much to unpack," Luther comments openly

The table goes quiet for a moment. The two Fives look towards you before looking back at each other, and for the first time, you think they might actually be on the same page. Maybe even with their paradox psychosis, your story could bring them together. Your hope for that fades though when Commission Five accuses,

"This is all your fault. How could you let her get hurt?"

"My fault? You haven't broken your contract yet. You're still working for the group that hurt her!" Academy Five remarks

"I'm not the one who let her out of my sight so she could get kidnapped." Commission Five replies

"Well, you could've killed The Handler long before any of this happened." Academy Five retorted

"So could you!" Commission Five exclaims

Bar patrons looked over towards your table once more and with your tolerance level starting to go down again you decided it was time to wrap things up here. Slamming your drink back you place the finished cup upside down on the table before standing up. The two Fives cease their bickering for a moment to look up at you as you start to talk,

"I understand that we have a lot of feelings given the current situation. But this constant fighting in public is getting ridiculous."

"JFK is gonna be at that grassy knoll in an hour and I want to see history happen so I can brag to my friends when I get finally home. Because I will be getting home." You emphasized "Now, someone at this table is gonna make that happen for me. So if any of the idiots at this table have any desire to keep me happy then let's get a move on."

With your speech finished you turned away from the table and walked out the door. There was no need to deal with them much longer as you had more important things to deal with than whose fault it was that you got a boo-boo from a gun. You had been through worse. With you out of sight, the three guys were left at the table alone.

Without saying a word, Luther quickly stood up and walked away from the table as well. He knew better than to do anything to upset you. You had already been mad at him once and after hearing about your massacre at the commission he did not want to see what your full extend of anger was. With Luther gone, the two Fives were the only ones left at the table. Neither said anything but the animosity was still palpable and was only growing. Silently, the two of them got up from their seats and walked over to the door you had exited from not making eye contact with each other. Academy Five could feel his frustration brewing as he looked at the people around him. They were all judging him. If he could fight them all he would but there was no time. Looking around the Fives found you leaning against the wall outside the pub with Luther standing by, an uncomfortable smile on his face. Looking at the duo you questioned,

"You two idiots ready to go?"

Both Fives nodded. Standing up from the wall you made your way over to where they stood.

"Alright, I'm ready to see the president and then go home. Who's leading the way?" You ask

"He will." your boyfriend says shoving past Commission Five "I'll walk with you."

Five takes your hand in his, placing a gentle kiss on the top of it before bringing it back down to his side and holding it tightly. Turning back towards his older-looking self, He gave him a cocky smile as if trying to make him jealous of the two of you.  and from the annoyed reaction on Commission Five's face, it was working. To rub salt even more into the wound Academy Five suggested mockingly,

"We better get a move on. Don't want to disappoint the lady now do we?"

Commission Five almost started to vibrate with anger at his words. That's it, this little shit wasn't making it out alive. He was a deformed mutant copy that needed to be eradicated. There was a chance you would be upset but in the end, he would be doing you a favor by removing this asshole from your life. Turning around, Commission Five started to walk away from the group with his two briefcases in hand. Calling behind him, he commanded,

"C'mon Luther."

Luther looked at you and Five before jogging a bit to catch up with the old man. Hands still interlocked the two of you started to follow behind, a bit of distance between you and the pair in front of you. You could feel the accumulation of sweat on your boyfriend's hand as you held it. It was honestly a bit gross how much sweat there was. You couldn't blame him for feeling the symptoms of something out of his control, but you wanted to get this plan over with. As the group walked onwards towards the grassy knoll you couldn't help but feel like you had forgotten something. It couldn't be something too important because then you would remember immediately but it still bothered you enough that you wanted to remember. As the four of you approached a staircase leading to a bridge, you finally recalled what you had forgotten. Your jacket. Remembering that you left it back at the pub you stopped in your tracks. Confused, Five turned to look at you.

"I forgot my jacket at the bar, I'm gonna go back to get it, alright?" You state "Try to stay calm and don't get into anything stupid with yourself while I'm gone."

"Don't worry I am completely sound of mind." Five responded as he frantically scratched himself

"I don't believe that." You reply monotonously and concerned "and I am now going to make this as fast as possible solely because that was your response."

Turning around you started making your way back to the bar as fast as you could. You knew that it was risky to leave the two Fives with each other given how incompetent Luther was about the situation but you hoped that they could at least stay calm for the few minutes you would be gone. Five watched you run away before turning around and following Luther and Commission Five up the step of the bridge. Up ahead Commission Five and Luther walked side by side, their voices low as they spoke on the plan they had formed in the bathroom of the bar.

"All right, just be cool till I finish the job on the grassy knoll. We'll get the time math and I'll ice the squirt." Commission Five explained

"I still don't think it's a good idea. (Y/N) will lose her shit and I'm really not feeling this plan after she admitted to committing a massacre and ripping someone's heart out you know? My self-preservation is kicking in." Luther comments concerned

"Listen, I told (Y/N) I'd think about the plan that the little shit presented. I thought about it, and I believe ours is better. He's too reckless for her." Commission Five elaborated

"Uh, okay...I just wish there was another way, you know?" Luther replies

"There isn't. Look at him." Commission Five suggests

As they continue to walk, the two look over their shoulders at the younger-looking version of Five. Irritable and constantly scratching himself, he yelled from afar.

"What are you looking at? See something funny?"

"Worst case of paradox psychosis I've ever seen." Commission Five commented with a shake of his head

Luther continued to stare at the version of his brother that had returned in 2019. Sure he was acting wild but was it really so bad that he deserved death? And what about you? He knew for sure that this was probably not your desired outcome for this scenario. Noticing the sad look on Luther's face, Commission Five questioned,

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I feel bad for him. And (Y/N)." Luther whispers

"Mind your business! Or I'll give you something to stare at." Academy Five shouts from behind the duo

"He's just a little guy. And she only got him back recently. I mean they've only been together for like a week and a half in total." Luther continues

"Everybody's a little guy to you. You look like King Kong and the Hitler Youth had a baby." Commission Five replies "And listen I understand your concerns but this is the best option. In the long run, everyone will be happier without him. (Y/N) included."

"You wish you could pull off these shorts!" Academy Five yelled

Luther looked back at the version of Five behind him. The more he saw that version going off the rails the more he believed in Commission Five's plan. And although he was becoming more and more convinced that this was the best solution something just felt off to him. Commission Five was Five and Five loved you but killing the version that you're dating? It still didn't feel right no matter how much he agreed with the rest of the plan. Unsure of things, Luther tried to get reassurance from Commission Five by questioning,

"I know I keep asking but are you sure? I really don't feel like this is the best plan for (Y/N)."

"Don't worry I am completely sound of mind. And right now I believe this is the best plan. I'm her best friend, I would know." Commission Five answers "Now Luther, I don't have time for you to tuck and squeeze here. Can I count on you to keep him under control?

"Yeah, I'll do my best, yeah,"  Luther responds

"All right." Commission Five replies

As they neared the end of the bridge Commission Five started to walk ahead while Luther waited behind for Academy Five. Putting on a nervous smile, he let out an awkward chuckle as he fiddled with the back of his jacket.

"Hey, brother. How you doing?" He asked tensely

Academy Five could see through his brother's facade. He wasn't here to be a spotter anymore, he was just taking the direction of the person who looked like they had the most authority. As they walked together down the stairs on the other side of the bridge Five comments,

"He's gonna kill me, isn't he?"

"What? What, him? He's gonna kill you? Yeah, right. That's ridiculous." Luther answers, his upbeat tone making his lies more evident

"You know, you're a terrible liar, Luther. You're a worse liar than you are a spotter." Five angrily whispered

"Okay, who's fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won't even listen to him?" Luther remarked back

"So you admit you're conspiring against me?" Academy Five questioned

"Do you admit that you're suffering from paradox psychosis?" Luther retorts

"All I'm suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions." Five states firmly

"Look, it's not like he's gonna kill you kill you. He just wants to kill a, um...version of you." Luther tries to rationalize before walking away

Five couldn't believe that Luther was alright with killing him. He was the brother that came back. He was the one who was trying to keep everyone safe from the apocalypse he lived through. He's the one who has been trying to make sure everyone got home. Sure, Luther had proven himself over and over again to be prone to making poor decisions when confronted with a higher authority but could his pea brain not comprehend any complex thought on the situation? Was it really that difficult for him to expend energy on his critical thinking skills? Trying to catch up to Luther, Five loudly reminds,

"But I am that version of me!"

"Hey, I don't love it, either, but he's actually got a pretty good plan." Luther states

"What? The one where you guys off me and then jump to 2019 to save the world?" Five remarks sarcastically

"Yeah, wait, how did you know that?" Luther questioned confused

"Because I'm him, and that is exactly what I would do if I were trying to kill me!" Five explains

"Okay, all I know is we've got one Five too many, and you're the one acting like a maniac." Luther remarks

"Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing." Five retorts angrily, jumping at his brother "If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac."

Luther retreated slightly away from the feral teen. Maybe, just maybe, Five was bluffing but the manic look in his eyes coupled with his erratic body movements amongst other things said otherwise. Luther could tell, that Five was not doing well. As Five walked away from him Luther followed quickly behind. Luther was done trying to rationalize with the teen. As he caught up to him Luther reprimanded,

"Okay, as your spotter, I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery."

Five scoffed in response. Luther was unbelievable. Turning around to face the giant man, Five grabbed him by the shoulders so the two of them faced each other.

"Okay, Luther, listen." Five starts to explain "I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely. Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues, this time with your own brother, which honestly is making me a bit crazy. But remember this: I'm 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther."

Five pauses to look at Luther. He felt like he was going insane due to his brother's deep-rooted daddy issues. Feeling like he was going to burst Five exclaimed loudly,

"I'M THE DADDY HERE!"

Luther noticed as the people walking by stared at him as if he was the parent to an misbehaved child. With a forced laugh, he tried to ease the awkwardness of the situation. Looking around as the people passed he put on a smile and said,

"How's it going?"

With the bypassers starting to look away, Luther bent down and took Five by the shoulders. Forcing him to walk forward he quietly criticized,

"Five, please, you're being unseemly. Look at you."

"I admit there is a possibility that I may not be in my fully...right mind right now." Five admits

"Okay, good," Luther replies

"But whatever I've got, he's got it too." Five commented pointing towards the other one

"You two quit grab-assing. We're here." Commission Five called from in front of them

Slowly the two of them followed behind into some type of fenced-off parking lot. Standing from afar they watched as Commission Five placed down the two briefcases he was carrying. As he bends over the sound of gas being passed came from the direction he stood. Luther stood there shocked as he recalled,

"Flatulence. Stage four."

A smirk appeared on Academy Five's face. All this time Luther refused to believe that Commission Five was also suffering from paradox psychosis. He was the older and more rational one to Luther but now he was fully exposed as suffering from psychosis. The daddy issues really ran deep in him, didn't they? Clasping his hands together, Academy Five leaned forward towards Luther. With the cocky smirk still on his face, Five sarcastically questioned,

"See? What's your plan now, bucko?"

Luther did not have a plan anymore. Both Fives were suffering from psychosis and neither could be trusted to make rational decisions. Looking back at the smaller of the two confused, Luther once again hears flatulence this time coming from the Five in front of him. Looking back towards Luther, Five quickly denies,

"That was just lunch, all right? Shut up."

Five walked away from Luther, trying to prevent any oncoming psychosis accusations from him. Taking a look around the area he tried to spot you, hoping you were somewhere close by, but it was to no avail. Glancing over towards his Commission self, he thought about the plan that he and Luther came up with. Was that man truly so jealous that he felt murder was the only option? Or was it because he felt that Academy Five wasn't good enough for you? Either reason was plausible and both infuriated Academy Five beyond belief. He was not going to have you lose him ever again. That briefcase was his and you all were going to go home, ALIVE. Once again by his brother's side, he saw the briefcase in the distance unattended as Commission Five started to put his gun together. His blood boiled and his head started to twitch unnaturally as he stared at the item.

"Look. The briefcase." He whispered

"No, don't. You won't be able to get there in time." Luther remarked, his voice low

His eyes started to blink rapidly as his breathing became shaky. He needed to get that briefcase and he needed to do it now.

"Of course I will. This is our only chance." Five explained

"Hey, uh, just remind me what was the final stage of paradox psychosis again?" Luther questioned

"Homicidal rage." Five stated flatly

"Right." Luther said upbeat before realizing the answer and taking on a concerned tone "That's great."

Five couldn't wait much longer. He had the opportunity to get everyone home and he was going to go for it. Crouching, he slowly started making his way towards the briefcase. As he started to make his way over Luther protested,

"Five, listen to me. I...No. No!"

Instead of listening though Five continued to move towards the case. Using the reflection of the scope on his gun Commission Five, could see his counterpart's every move. Waiting for the time to strike he watched as Academy Five took off in a run before spatial jumping to get to him. Reacting equally, Commission Five spatial jumped back towards where Luther stood. Holding the gun up he aimed it at the teen's head as he remarked,

"Bad idea, shit-heel."

Frustrated by the situation at hand, Luther marched over towards Commission Five and grabbed the gun out of his hands. Directing his attention towards both Fives he scolded,

"Stop it! All right? The both of you. Pull it together. Now, Kennedy is gonna be coming around that corner any minute. Okay? So, everyone, let's just take a deep breath."

Taking a deep breath, Luther looked towards the two Fives waiting for them to follow. Both shakily inhaled and exhaled as they stared the giant man down. With both Fives standing silent Luther continued,

"Now, we're all family here, okay? So can we all just try to get along for a few more minutes?"

The two Fives looked at Luther for a second and if they were ever going to agree on something besides you, it was this. Looking towards his commission version, Five asked,

"You want it?"

"Go ahead." Commission Five responds

"What's that?" Luther questions

Without saying a work Academy Five kicks his leg up nailing Luther right in the crotch. A rush of pain floods through him as he drops to his knees unable to move.

"Shit..." Luther groans

"Now..." Commission Five starts

"Where were we?" Academy Five finishes as he adjusts his jacket

The two Fives start to spatial jump about the place, each trying to beat the life out of the other. Homicidal rage had taken over and there was nothing to stop them at this point. Each Five with their own goals in mind, fought the other trying to gain the upper hand in the situation. As they fought you were on your way back from retrieving your jacket. Getting closer to the staircase where you and your boyfriend had parted you got a bad feeling in your gut. It wasn't just an intuition feeling though, it was a physical feeling. There was a disturbance large enough nearby that you could feel it like a jab in your stomach. Your eyes shot wide as you realized there was only one way that molecules in this area were being disturbed so much you could sense from afar.

"Five." You said to yourself

Picking up your speed you started running up the stairs and across the bridge following the direction of the disturbance. Running down the flight of stairs on the other side you noticed the multiple flashes of blue light. Following the display of lights, you found yourself in a fenced-off parking lot. From where you stood you watched as the two Fives jumped around the place each trying to cause harm to the other. As they flashed into existence one more you saw as Commission Five nailed a punch directly to your boyfriend's face. Sucking in air through your teeth you comment,

"That's gotta hurt."

The two jumped around the lot a bit more but in a second's time, your boyfriend landed an equivalent punch to Commission Five's face. Throwing him off his rhythm, Academy Five followed his punch with a kick to the chest sending Commission Five back a bit. A grimace rose to your face as you continued to see the battle go down. Luther on the other hand was finally starting to recover from his pain. As the two Five flashed on either side of him, he stood up a little taller and tried to reason,

"Would you please..."

It was useless though. Neither of them stopped to listen, instead, they both kicked Luther in the gut at the same time before flashing away one more. Filling with rage, Luther yelled at the two,

"Hey! I'm getting really sick of this!"

Realizing the violence was now starting to extend to people besides each other, you started to cautiously make your way from the parking lot entrance towards the corner they were located. The two Fives flashed into existence once more. Breathing heavily, they stared each other down, the homicidal rage still lingering in their eyes.

"Getting tired yet?" Commission Five mocked

"I can do this all day." Academy Five remarked

"Guys, this has to stop." Luther tries to interject

"Eat shit, Ape Man." Both Five retorts

The two Fives run and jump at each other, causing a giant explosion of energy, sending them back onto the ground, and causing you to drop to your knees. The force of the explosion shocked your system and felt as if someone had speared you right through your abdomen. As you looked down at the ground, taking a few deep breaths, Luther had picked up Commission Five's gun. Pointing it between the two Fives as they laid on the ground, he angrily explained,

"Hey! Assholes! I'm done listening to you both. I'm in charge now."

With wide eyes to two quickly rose to their feet. Pointing in the direction of Academy Five, Commission Five commanded,

"Now, Luther! Shoot him!"

"No! Luther, shoot him!" Academy Five replied, pointing back

"Shoot him!" Commission Five emphasized

"No, Luther, shoot him." Academy Five retorted

As the pain started to subside you looked up from your spot on the ground towards the group not too far ahead of you. With the world coming back into focus, and the words that they were saying becoming clearer, your eyes went wide. You watched as Luther moved the gun back and forth to point at each Five, both of which were demanding the other be shot dead. This couldn't happen, there would be a horrible outcome either way and yet you were frozen in place. As Luther stood with the gun ready to shoot Commission Five continued to demand,

"Luther, shoot him!"

Slowly, Luther pointed the gun towards Academy Five. Looking back at his brother his eyes were wide with shock and fear. He couldn't be shot, this couldn't be how it ended. At the hands of his daddy issues ridden brother, and a manic version of himself whose only authority was he looked his age? No. Five looked between Luther and the Commission version of himself pleading,

"Luther, shoot him."

"Now, Luther!" Commission Five exclaimed

"Luther..." Academy Five begged

You could hear the desperation in your boyfriend's voice as he tried to get his brother to point the gun away from him. The saddened and fearful look on his face gave you the push you needed to snap out of your shock at the situation. You were not losing anyone today, but especially not your best friend. As you started to stand you could quietly hear from afar Luther say,

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"NO!" You shouted

The world around you started to feel like it was going in slow motion as you ran towards the group before transporting your molecules from behind Luther to in front of them. Raising your hand as you reappeared you forced the barrel of the gun up towards the sky. The force of the movement caused Luther's finger to slip and accidentally hit the trigger sending a shot up high and causing you to fall back onto the ground due to the recoil. Hitting the ground, you could hear the echoes of the gunshot as the world returned to normal speed. Realizing what had just occurred both Fives' eyes went wide with panic. Quickly rushing towards you, they called out,

"(Y/N)!"

Hearing your name, you sat up from the ground and look between the two Fives kneeling at your sides. The sound of the gun sent a panic through both of them as they looked you over for injuries. The last thing either of them wanted was for you to be hurt. As you looked between the two you could see the fear in their eyes. The last thing they wanted was for you to get hurt again

"Are you okay?" Commission Five asked, panic evident in his tone

"Are you in pain?" Academy Five questioned concerned

"Guys, I'm fine." You responded

All you had done was fall down and you had probably taken worse falls before so you were sure you would be fine. The two Fives looked over you once more before turning their attention to each other.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't bring that gun!" Academy Five yelled

"No! This wouldn't have happened if you didn't jump back in time!" Commission Five shouts back

"I saved her from dying in the apocalypse." Academy Five exclaimed

"Yeah well you didn't save the world she lived in, now did you?!" Commission Five remarked

"AHHHH!" Academy Five screamed as decked Commission Five in the face

Jumping over your legs, he tacked Commission Five to the ground. Standing up, you brushed the dirt off of your pants and witnessed as the two Fives rolled around on the ground shouting and fighting with each other. As you stood there watching them fight each other you realized they weren't going to listen to you if you were even relatively okay. And even if you tried stopping their fighting forcefully, and explaining what you wanted to happen, they still were so enraged with each other that they weren't even thinking about anything other than killing each other. The only time that it seemed like the real Five cut through their psychosis was when they were concerned about your wellbeing. And then it clicked. If you wanted them to truly listen to you, you couldn't be working towards the end goal you desired, they had to work towards what would make you happy. Or at least they had to believe they were doing so. You had to go to the extreme opposite of what they wanted. You needed to be sad.

Acting wasn't quite your specialty but you had helped Addison rehearse lines enough times that you had an adequate grasp on how the look and sound of different emotions were. Taking some short heavy breaths you started to mimic the sound of sniffling as you used your powers to collect water molecules from the air forming fake tears in your eyes. Taking a deep breath you hoped that this would be convincing enough for the two Fives. Letting the breath go you started to sob aggressively. Immediately, both Fives stopped fighting and sprung to their feet, quickly making their way back to you. Taking your face in his hands, your boyfriend asks,

"Mon chérie, what's wrong?"

"Did I do something wrong?" You cried

"What do you mean?" Your boyfriend questioned

"You could never do anything wrong!" Commission Five tried to comfort

Turning your attention specifically to Commission Five you lean more into your "sadness". Letting out a loud wail you collect more water by your eyes to make it seem like you're crying harder. Looking up at him with your face drenched in tears you exclaim,

"N-no I had to do something wrong! I had to do something for you not to like me anymore!"

"Not like you? You're my best friend." Commission Five tries to explain

"Then w-why won't you h-help me get home?" You stuttered "I don't belong here and if w-w-we stay we're all going to d-die in a nuclear apocalypse!"

"I- uh- I-" Commission Five

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" You wail

Worried that the lack of genuine sadness might begin to show, you threw your face into your hands and let out exaggerated sobs. Luther and Academy Five looked between your small sobbing figure and the old version of Five who looked like he was at a loss for words. Commission Five couldn't let you die, his whole purpose for surviving through the apocalypse was to make sure that you didn't die, and he wasn't going to go back on that now. Placing his hands on your shoulders he calmly says,

"You're not going to die. I'm going to make sure you get home."

Lifting your head from your hands you wipe your eyes as you start to sniffle more quietly.

"You will?" You ask softly "You'll give us the briefcase and go to 2019 so I can get home?"

"I will." Commission Five affirmed

You nodded your head at him before turning around and looking towards your boyfriend.

"Five! Open the portal!" You commanded

Five blinked a few times as his brain tried to get up to speed but once he knew what was going on he responded,

"Right."

Within seconds blue energy started to whir as he opened a portal through time back to the day of the funeral in 2019. Feeling the emerging disturbance grow as the portal became larger and larger you did what Charlie had instructed you to do all those years ago. Instead of fighting the energy that coursed through you embraced it having it flow in and out through you like a cycle.

"Into the vortex you go, asshole." Academy Five shouted from afar

Commission Five didn't respond and instead looked at you. Giving a nod of your head you extended a hand out towards him. With the briefcase in one hand, he took yours in his other as you walked him towards the vortex. Commission Five took a step in front of you as he stared into his literal future. He would be reunited with his siblings. He had the information on what causes the apocalypse and could easily stop it. And...he was going to see you again. But a you that hadn't seen him since he left. One that he didn't know if they would love them. Commission Five's heart started to race as he panicked about the different possibilities of what could happen when he arrived in 2019. Turning around to face you, you noticed a worried expression on his face.

"I can't do it. What if something's changed." He stated

"What do you mean?" You asked confused

"What if something's changed and this (Y/N) doesn't love me?" Commission Five asked concerned

"Impossible." You replied

"Is it? Maybe Tiger Beat over there just got lucky." Commission Five suggested, anxiety lacing his voice

"In all honestly, with everything he did he should've failed. Any other person would have failed, but I love him so much that it didn't matter." You explain "And the same will go for you."

"But what do I do?"

"Be honest, be her best friend, and love her as you always have." You respond softly "And when the time is right, you feel the pieces fall into place."

Five looked towards you and gave you a smile which you returned. Your words comforted him and maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Looking around at the group Commission Five commented,

"All right...I guess this is it."

"This is it. Go." Academy Five demanded

You looked at Commission Five and rolled your eyes, eliciting a small laugh from him. Turning your head to face your boyfriend, you replied,

"Be nice. You were in his place two weeks ago. Can't you at least give him some advice?"

"She'll show up when you feel like the conversation with your siblings is over." Academy Five said with an annoyed sigh

As he finished his statement, a fire extinguisher flew out from the portal, passing you and Commission Five, and instead hit Luther in the head knocking him to the ground. The rest of you stared on in shock at what had just happened. As Academy Five, focused more on his brother though, the portal started to shrink. Looking up from the ground Luther could see what was happening with the portal and shouted,

"Five! It's shrinking!"

"You need to go, NOW." Academy Five yelled

Seeing the situation going on Commission Five wrapped you in a tight hug as he attempted a goodbye. The goodbye that he never got the last time he left you.

"Thank you, (Y/N)." he whispered "You're my best friend and I don't know how I could go on without you."

The two of you pulled back from the hug. Giving him one more smile, you gestured to the vortex as you replied,

"Don't give these words to me. Give them to her."

Seeing the portal continue to shrink and Commission Five standing still in the 1960s, Luther started to panic. Quickly getting off the ground he rushed over to where the two of you stood and kicked a leg up to push him into the portal before it closed. You watched as he fell back into the portal of blue. His arm started to reach out, trying to hand you the briefcase as he yelled,

"Wait!"

It was too late though. Luther had pushed him through the portal and it closed. All that was left was half of a now-defunct briefcase. You looked towards the only Five left, your Five, and saw the shocked look on his face. With his eyes wide and his jaw dropped you could only imagine that his reaction mirrored that of your own. From behind you, Luther cheered,

"We did it!"

"The briefcase, you idiot." Five mumbled as he walked past him

"What?" Luther questioned before looking at the ground and seeing the wrecked case

Five angrily paced around. What were you all going to do now? That was the hail mary. That was the last-ditch effort. You all were stuck here due to Luther's incompetence. Five shot Luther a nasty glare to which he responded,

"Hey, you know what? A thank-you for preserving your existence would be nice."

"A thank-you." Five scoffed

While the two brothers argued, you were still frozen in place. You hadn't moved from where you were when the portal had closed. Just seconds ago you were going to go home and now...you had nothing. As you stared at the charred briefcase on the ground you whispered to yourself,

"He was just about to leave on his own..."

From the background, the sound of the radio breaks through as the announcer details the arrival of President Kennedy. Realizing he'd be here any minute Five rushes over to the fence where Kennedy would be passing by, calling you and Luther in the process.

"(Y/N)! Luther! Here he comes!" He shouts

Luther and you rush towards the fence and stand on either side of Five. Being too short to see over the top you opted to become invisible and stand on the other side of it. You crossed your arms and leaned against the fence as you looked around at the crowds of people. All of them standing and waiting to catch a glimpse of the president on this historic day. When you first came to the 60s you wondered if you were going to get to see the assassination of JFK, you honestly did not want nor expect to be in this time that long but now here you were. As Luther looked over the fence he could spot Sir Hargreeves in the distance standing on the grassy knoll. Tapping Five to get his attention he pointed out,

"Look, there's Dad. What do we do?"

Five wasn't paying attention to his dad though. From across the street, a figure could be seen sprinting towards the grassy knoll.

"Oh, shit." Five commented

"Diego." You replied

The three of you watched as Diego ran across the street and towards what looked like Sir. Hargreeves. Approaching the figure, Diego tackled him to the ground. He had done it, he stopped his dad and saved Kennedy! And then, the hat of the man fell off, and looking back at him was a man who was not his father. His eyes went wide with shock as the man who now laid tackled to the ground laughed in Diego's face. From behind him, multiple gunshots could be heard as the crowd yelled in fear. Leaning down to the man on the ground he grabbed him buy his jacket and demanded,

"Where is he!"

Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket he held it out towards Diego, who snatched it from the man's hand. Opening it up all the letter read was

Told you so...

A tear ran down Diego's face as he realized he had failed. As people ran off in all directions trying to escape Dealey Plaza, you all stood in place, disbelief and shock on your faces. You knew that history was going to happen. Hearing about it was one thing but seeing it so close, was another. After the shock wore off you realized that you all needed to get out of here, it didn't look right for people to still be standing around after the president was just shot. Walking back through the fence, you made yourself visible again as you emphasized,

"We need to get Diego and get out of here."

"How are we going to do this?" Luther asked

"You two stay here and figure out a place to go to lay low. I'll get Diego." You responded

Turning invisible once more you went through the fence again and rushed over to Diego. You saw as he stood frozen in place unable to move due to his failure to save the president. Grabbing his hand you said urgently,

"Diego we need to go."

Diego shook his head a little coming out of his trance and looked around for the voice who had called to him. If only he could see you roll your eyes at his stupidity.

"Diego, it's me. We need to go." You repeated as you started to drag him along behind you

Running towards the fence you found the spot where it had stopped and rounded the corner to meet back up with Luther and Five. Becoming visible on more you asked them,

"What's the plan?"

"We're going to head back to Elliott's. It's the only place we really have at the moment." Five explained

"Let's go then." Diego replied

The four of you took off running down the back streets of Dallas towards Elliott's place, trying your best not to be spotted by anyone. As you made it to the alley you all arrived in when you first came to the 60s, you rushed in through the back door of Elliott's place shutting it quickly behind you. Entering the building you saw Vanya, Klaus and Allison sitting around the living room. A solemn silence loomed in the air as you all stood there, the world falling apart even if the nuclear apocalypse had been avoided. There was something missing though. You watched as Klaus gave the group a far off look before getting up from his spot on he couch. The group watched as he walked without purpose towards the back bedroom. And that's when it hit you. Ben wasn't here. Following Klaus down the hall you quietly called out,

"Klaus, where's Ben?"

Slowly he turned to look at you, a far off look in his eyes. Oh, (Y/N). Sweet, sweet (Y/N). Still caring about this family of fuck-ups even after everything that had happened. It was in Klaus' instinct to lie. Lying caused him a lot less trouble most of the time but with the concerned look on your face, he couldn't lie to you. Even after all these years he still remembered the kindness you gave him as a child. He remembered the birthday gifts you gave him when you were all thirteen and times were simpler. He remembered the times where you would secretly join him in the mausoleum and hold him to protect him from the ghosts. He remembered you, his friend, his family. After all that you had done for him, it would be doing you a disservice to lie.

"Someone had to stop Vanya from blowing up the FBI building..." Klaus responded quietly

Your concerned expression morphed into one of sadness. He was gone and this time he wasn't coming back. Looking back towards Klaus you said,

"But we didn't get to say goodbye..."

"It must be a family curse. None of us ever get a proper goodbye." Klaus responded sadly "People just disappear..."

You looked down towards the floor, not at anything in particular but you knew if you looked Klaus in the eyes that you wouldn't be able to hold yourself together much. The pain of losing a friend again weighted heavy on you. Seeing your saddened reaction Klaus tried his best to make things easier for you. Attempting to put on a cheerier tone he mentioned,

"If it makes you feel any better, he always loved you most. He'd still talk about you even years after his death."

A slight smile briefly came to your face. You were happy that you had left such an impact but...you never got to talk to him about that. Instead of trying to find the words to speak you instead took a step forward and threw your arms around Klaus. Wrapping his arms back around you, the two of you stood in a silent embrace each of you quietly reassuring each other that things would be okay, even when they weren't. Stepping back from the hug, Klaus placed his hands on your shoulders as he said,

"I just need a minute."

You gave him a small nod and turned to walk away. As you made your way back towards the kitchen and living room you noticed that no one was there. Looking over the balcony you saw that the rest of the group was downstairs and headed down. When you got there you stood on the bottom step in between where Five and Diego were, your attention now focused on the TV broadcast the group was watching.

"Authorities are asking for help identifying several persons of interest at Dealey Plaza at the time of the assassination. The FBI believes they may have been acting in concert with the alleged shooter, Lee Harvey Oswald. Vanya Hargreeves, wanted in connection with the deaths of several FBI agents inside the federal building at Dealey Plaza. A Cuban exile known only as Diego..." The TV announcer started

"Cuban?" You and Diego questioned at the same time

"Who recently escaped from the Holbrook Sanitarium. A bare-knuckle boxer with suspected Mafia ties who fights under the alias ''King Kong''. Allison Chestnut, a Negro radical responsible for instigating and organizing the recent riots at Stadtler's lunch counter. And finally, Klaus, the controversial cult leader and known tax evader. The FBI is asking the public to be on the lookout for this unidentified boy, who they believe is being held hostage by the suspected terrorist network." The announcer finished

"Well, it's true. I do feel like I'm being held hostage most days." Five remarked sarcastically

"God, I hate that photo." Diego commented

"They're saying I instigated the riot?" Allison scoffed "That's unbelievable."

"Look, the good news is that we restored the timeline and we stopped doomsday." Luther states

"Yeah, a bunch of real goddamn heroes. We let Kennedy die." Diego retorts

"Yeah, and now we're officially the most wanted people in the world. The FBI is after us, the Dallas police, the Secret Service. It's only a matter of time before they hunt us down here." Allison interjects

"Well, where are we supposed to go?" Vanya questions

"I have this yurt just outside Reykjavik. We could totally lay low there. Folks there are a little weird, but lovely." Klaus suggests as he comes down the stairs

Passing by you he walks to stand near Vanya. It was still weird not seeing Ben standing by him or at least somewhere in the place.

"Hey, numbnuts. Hiding's not gonna make a difference here. The Commission will hunt us down wherever and whenever we go." Five reminds

"He's right. They'll never stop." Diego agrees

Five looked over towards Diego and narrowed his eyes. What was he talking about?

"I'm sorry, since when are you an expert on the Commission?" Five inquired

"Since I got back from there." Diego stated

"What?" Five asked confused

"Yeah, they headhunted me, offered me a job. Full time with benefits, which I had to turn down."

"Uh, as my brother I would hope you'd turn it down." You interjected "They drugged and kidnapped me."

"They headhunted you," Five chuckles "the village idiot?"

"What, am I not allowed to be headhunted? Only the almighty Five needs to be in demand?" Diego retorted

As Diego and Five started to bicker the rest of the group started to become annoyed at the scene unfolding. Rolling their eyes and taking steps away from the two, you all hoped that they would shut up soon. You especially. The Hargreeves were being tracked by every type of law enforcement in this nation on top of being hunted by a group of time assassins led by a psychotic megalomaniac.

"Diego, you're not Commission material, all right? Got an obstinate nature to ya." Five comments

"Who do you think it was that figured out Vanya was the one that causes doomsday and stopped it?" Diego asked rhetorically

"Hey!" Klaus exclaims from the other staircase

You didn't know if he knew Ben stopped Vanya or not, but even if he didn't know that Ben was the one to actually stop the apocalypse it still was incredibly selfish to take the credit for it. Ignoring the looks that the rest of his siblings were giving him Diego got up in Five's face and continued,

"Me. That's who. I figured it all out on the Infinite Switchboard."

"You were on the Infinite Switchboard?" Five asked

"Hell, yeah. I made that machine my bitch."

Five scoffed and looked away from Diego. There's no way he was able to work the infinite switchboard on his own. You were at the commission and the both of you escaped so most likely you had to be together. Turning to look at you Five asked,

"Babe, did he really make the machine his bitch?"

"I don't know, I was off committing war crimes," You answer before doing a double take an asking "Wait what did you call me?"

Before anyone else spoke Vanya interjected and questioned,

"War crimes?"

"Don't ask." Luther replied

"Y'all need to recognize I got shit going on y'all don't even know about." Diego yelled as he looked around the room

"Oh, sorry. You've got things going on?" Allison remarked sarcastically

"This isn't helpful." Luther adds as he paces about the place

You watched as Vanya quietly left the group and went to go upstairs. As she disappeared out of sight you threw your head into your hands. You didn't want to even witness the siblings start to argue with each other. As they noise of their disagreement about what to do next in this situation grew the voice of th TV anchor cut through the yelling,

"In other news, the adoptive daughter of billionaire Reginald Hargreeves has been reported missing. We now go live to the police station where Police Chief Jesse Curry just giving a statement on the case."

You looked up from your hands and looked towards the TV. Watching the press conference you can see the police chief standing at a podium in front of the station but in the background someone familiar stood there.

"Mom..." you said to yourself

Almost in a trance you walked through the group of bickering Hargreeves towards the TV before crouching down in front of it. You stared at your mom on the screen as she stood in the background of the broadcast. Bringing your hand up to the TV you gently placed it on top of the image of her as the chief started to speak.

"The Dallas police department is working tirelessly to find Miss (Y/N). She was last seen at home in her bedroom before being reported missing by her mother this morning. Detectives have multiple theories that they are working on at the moment. There is a concern that she and her friend Charles Anderson may have also been taken by the terrorist organization the FBI is tracking due to their connection to Sir Hargreeves and high society status. If you see or hear anything please call Dallas Police immediately so that we can bring her home."

As the group bickered on behind you, you stood up from in front of the TV. Turning to go upstairs you passed Vanya as she walked back down. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen and picked up the phone. You might've been cursed with people leaving before you could say goodbye, but you weren't going to subject anyone else to it. Taking a deep breath you tried to calm yourself as you dialed the number into the phone. The was a ringing for a few moments before a man could be heard on the other line asking,

"Dallas Police non-emergency line. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to speak with Grace, miss (Y/N)'s mom please." You said as steady as you could

"One moment." They replied

You waited silently on the other end before hearing the sound of a familiar voice urgently asking,

"Hello?"

There was a moment when she first spoke where you wanted to hang up, and avoid the pain both of you would feel if you continued the call. Maybe you could pick up and try to move on like you always did and she could hopefully move on from you after some time. It wasn't right though, you called for a reason and it would be wrong to go back on it. Trying to find the words, you started,

"Hi mom."

"Oh my god! (Y/N) where are you! Are you alright?" Your mom said panicked

You could hear the pain in her voice. It was the pain of a mother who's child was put in danger too many times recently. The pain of a mother who just wanted to find them and make sure they would be okay. You could feel her pain strike your heart as you tried to continue,

"I'm fine."

"Where are you? Are you with those terrorists?" She questioned distressed

"I am." you replied, your voice starting to waver

"Oh god. What have they done to you? Are you hurt?" Grace fearfully asked

"No..." You stated as your throat started to tighten "they haven't done anything to me"

"Tell me, what do they want? Money?" Grace pleaded  "I know I just left Reginald but I can go back and talk to him. I know that he would pay anything to get you back safely. However much, we'll get it to them."

Tears started to well in your eyes as you tried to get through the conversation. You could hear the heartbreak in her voice and could only imagine the emotional look she probably had on her face. You started to wonder if this goodbye was more for her or more for you. As your chest clenched feeling your own heart start to break you stuttered out,

"I-I-I'm going far away, Mom."

"No, no, no. We'll fine them and stop them. Just tell me where you are," Grace begged

"I can't." you replied before apologizing "Mom...I am so sorry that I brought you into this mess. This is never how I wanted things to go or end."

"Sweetie you're talking like you're not coming back from this." Grace replied confused

"I'm not."

You could hear her sobs on the other side of the line. Closing your eyes tightly, tears started to fall from your eyes and roll down your face. Your breathing became short and choppy as you held back your own cries. Through her tears, Grace yelled,

"No, you will. You will!"

"Mom...I need you to know that I love you so much. You have made my time here so much better than it could've been. I showed up out of the blue and you still took care of me and loved me as your own." You explained to her through a cracked voice "It pains me to lose a parent again but no matter what happens next, you'll always be my mom."

"(Y/N)-" She begged

"I love you Mom." You stated

"I love you too-" She replied

"Goodbye." You stated

You could hear your Mom shout,

"Wait-"

But it was too late. Hanging up the phone you pressed your back against the wall and slowly slumped down to the floor. Pulling your knees close to your chest you used your hand to cover your mouth as you tried to silence your cries. Shutting your eyes, you let the tears stream down as everything you tried to hold back on the phone came came out. There was so much more pain that came with a goodbye. When you never got to say it there was always that hope that one day the person would come back, but that hope was gone once you said it. As you sat on the floor below the phone softly crying, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Opening your eyes you looked at the figure kneeling in front of you,

"Charlie..." you whispered "D-did you hear?"

"I did." He whispered back

"Charlie, I- I can't get her involved with this...With me." You explained through your tears "I don't want her to get hurt."

"I know." He replies calmly

Standing up he extends a hand to help you off the ground which you take. Quietly he guides you over towards the living room. From below you can still hear the bickering of the Hargreeves. You couldn't make out what it was they were yelling about now but it didn't matter. As Charlie sat down in a chair you paced about the place thinking about everything that happened to you. Everything. From the moment you left your home in 2002 as you tried to find out what was wrong with your best friend up until this moment now where you were holed in a dead man's TV store literally counting down the minutes until the FBI broke the door down. Your heart began to race as emotions you had refused to deal with for so long flooded your system. Grief, anger, sadness. You started to feel it all at once. Hot tears rolled from you eyes and you shouted,

"FUCK."

From down below the Hargreeves stopped their bickering. Quieting down they all looked up towards the upstairs. Although they couldn't see anything they could hear the sound of Charlie saying,

"(Y/N), it'll be okay. What do you need?"

What did you need? You needed a lot. You needed to not be in situation where everyone but you and your boyfriend was an assumed terrorist. You needed to get out of this time. You needed a steady place to stay. You were sad and scared and felt like you were right back where you started all those years ago. A wave of anger boiled over as you turned to Charlie and snapped,

"I NEED MY MOM AND DAD CHARLIE."

Finishing you statement, your flash of anger turned back to sorrow as you collapsed to your knees. Your body couldn't hold the weight of your pain any longer and gave out. Loud sobs echoed through the place as you finally let it all out. If only your parents could see you now. Would they be proud? Would they still be happy to call you their own? You looked up towards the ceiling and stated,

"I'm so sorry that I caused this mess we're in."

Maybe if you were lucky the heavens would hear you and deliver the message to your parents wherever they were. The Hargeeves stood in place as they beared witness to the anguish you carried with you for so long. The heavy burden of all your pain was finally coming to light, and none of them enjoyed your sorrow. Wanting to fix the situation, Five and Diego tried to start making their way up the stairs to you but Allison put her hands up to stop them. Looking at her confused Allison replied,

"This is not one for you two to try and fix. Just let Charlie try to help."

Five and Diego both felt helpless. They wanted to be there for you and help you through your emotions. It was ridiculous that Allison was blocking them from doing so. What did she mean this is not one for you to fix? As the two of them tried to push past her, Allison stated,

"Don't make me rumor you into staying down here."

The two boys reluctantly walked back down the stairs to where they stood before but neither was happy about the situation. Back upstairs, Charlie did not quite grasp the intent of your message and instead thought you were talking about the situation you were in now. Trying to comfort he stated,

"(Y/N), this isn't your fault. You have to understand that you are the least culpable person in all of this."

You ignored him as you looked off in the distance. Your sobs started to subside but you were left with a hallow feeling within you. A complete emptiness. In a monotone voice you asked Charlie,

"You know what my parents told me when I was younger?"

"What?" He asked

"They gave me three rules to remember. First, remember you are unconditionally loved. The second, always try your best and do what's right. And the third...stay away from the house across the street." You recalled

"The Academy." Charlie said

"Yes. They wrote it on a piece of paper and hung it on the fridge. I saw that rule every day at every meal. They drilled it into me as if it was the most important piece of information I'd ever know." you elaborated almost breathlessly "And yet I still didn't listen. They were worried if I associated with them I'd get hurt and I guess they were right but it's probably not the hurt they expected."

"So you regret meeting the Hargreeves?"

"No, never. I don't regret meeting any of them. I love them all even if they don't all love me. I just wish...I wish I could've done more for them. Maybe if I was there...to stop their shitty dad...if I had just done more then we wouldn't be here. This wouldn't have happened"

The Hargreeves stood saddened and shocked at your admission. You had never told any of them about the third rule, not even Five. You never told them your parents explicitly stated to stay away from their house. To stay away from them. You came over every time you could to hangout and spend time with them fully knowing you could get in trouble if you were found out. You ignored what your parents told you to do just so you could be with all of them. And now here you were upset that you didn't do more to help them? All you ever did was help them. The short time that they had you in their lives was the best time they could remember.

While the others looked around at each other, Luther looked towards the ground. A feeling of guilt washed over him as he fully realized how awful he had been to you when all you were was a friend to him. Did he really forget all the things that you did for him in his youth? All the fun you had? He was so loyal to his father, so protective of his number one status, that he treated you, the only person to see him as a person so poorly. All that time ago, Diego was right. You were family.

Charlie stood up from his seat and walked over to where you were on the floor. Sitting down next to you, he placed a hand on your back. As he looked into your eyes, he questioned calmly,

"How could you have predicted what would happen?"

"I-I couldn't...I was just a kid...god we were all just kids." you exclaimed as you threw your head into your hands

"Hey, hey it's okay." Charlie tried to comfort

"I just- I should've done more. I should've been there." You try to argue

"If you were there you would've never met your other friends. And wouldn't you regret it if you didn't meet them as well?" Charlie asked

"Yes, but-" you started to reply but were cut off by Charlie

"(Y/N), no matter how painful some of the consequences of your decisions have been it seems like everything in your life has been the right thing for you. This was always out of your hands (Y/N). You don't need to be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned. You just need to be you. I mean what more could you have done to prevent where you are now?" He questioned

"I don't know I could've redistributed the molecules at the theatre. I at least could've tried" You replied at a loss for words

"(Y/N), listen to me." Charlie says taking on a more serious tone "That night nearly killed you. If you recall, you came to the 1960s in a coma. And even if you did know how to redistribute like you do now, Vanya is still immensely more powerful. She's blew up the moon after all. Even if you had tried, that much energy is too much for one person."

Your far off gaze came back into focus and you looked over to Charlie.

"You're right..." You replied "It is too much for one person."

"Now, how about we go back to the rest of the group and figure out where to go from here." Charlie suggested

"Okay."

The two of you stood up again and started making your way to the stairs. As the group below saw you approach and start to come down towards them, they knew that they had to start talking about something, because it would be rude to bring up your feelings now. You had just calmed down and had already been through enough. Facing all of them and having to realize that they listened in wasn't in your best interest. Vanya had wanted to say something for a while but didn't do so while you were still upstairs. Realizing that this was her chance she stated,

"I'm leaving."

"What? To go where?" Allison questioned confused

"Sissy's farm. Something's wrong with Harlan, and I need to help him." Vanya explains

"Vanya, we need to stick together, okay? Now more than ever." Luther replies

"That's why I'm telling you this. Whatever's going on with Harlan, I think I might've caused it." Vanya elaborates

"How?" Klaus questions

"He drowned, and, uh, somehow I was able to bring him back to life. And now it's like we're connected." Vanya states

"Wh... What does that even mean?" Allison asks

"I don't know. I can't explain, but...I know that he needs my help and I need your help, too. I'm scared. And for the first time in my life, I don't wanna do it alone. I want my family by my side." Vanya says before looking at you "All of my family."

The group was silent as you all looked at her, each person debating in their head on what to do. Everyone stayed still for a moment until Diego stepped forward and said,

"Look, I'm sorry. We have other priorities right now."

"Diego's right. For once." Five added "We need to make our stand here and now."

The rest of the group stood there, not saying anything. Your jaw dropped as you were speechless at the lack of action the rest of the Hargreeves were taking. With no one joining her Vanya grabbed car keys from her pocket and said,

"Okay. I guess I'll see you when I see you."

You all watch as Vanya walks out of the building. As the door to the alleyway slams you look around at the Hargreeves all standing quietly staring at the door Vanya had just left through. Turning your attention towards the group you ask,

"What is wrong with you guys?"

Turning their attention from the door to you, you continue,

"That is your sister. Your family. And for the first time she reaches out to this group for help and support and you're just going to send her off to be alone so you can what? Stand here and wait for the FBI to put bullets in all of your heads?"

The group is silent for a moment, but it didn't take long before Klaus stood up and said,

"(Y/N) is right. We should be with Vanya."

Grabbing a jacket, he puts it on and without another word walks out the door to go join her. It takes a few moments but slowly the rest of the group nodded their head and made their preparations to go. You watched as Allison walked out the door with Diego trailing close behind.

"I'm only doing this because you want it." Diego comments before exiting the building

"Sure it is," You remark with a smirk

As you make your way down to the bottom step, you can see your boyfriend start to approach you.

"Can I help you?" You ask, your smirk still evident

Five gives you a smile back as he takes your hand in his. Looking into your eyes, he saw all he could ever want and more and as he held your hand he couldn't help but worry about you and what would happen if the group ran away.

"You realize if we leave that we're always going to have to be on the run?" Five asks gently

"Well then we'll have to make the most of it. Won't we?" You reply

"I guess so," He says with a smirk before giving you a peck on the lips "I'll meet you at the car."

Slowly, Five starts to walk away, holding on to your hand until he's too far to touch it anymore. As Five exits the door Luther lingers around a bit. After everything you had said and all the stuff he realized he knew he owed you an apology. Carefully, approaching you he started to say,

"Hey (Y/N), I-"

"(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second?" Charlie cuts off, not hearing Luther

"Yeah, one second." You tell him before turning back to Luther "What did you want to say Luther?"

Luther scratched the back of his neck as he looked off to the side. This probably wasn't a good time to talk anyway.

"Uh...just that I'll see you at the car." Luther mumbled

"Oh, alright." You replied

As Luther walked off you turned your attention to Charlie.

"What's up?"

"I have something for you." Charlie replied

You looked at him curiously. What could he have had for you? Pulling a duffle bag out from behind his back he handed it to you, a smile wide across his face.

"Charlie what is this?" You questioned

"Open it!" he exclaimed

Placing the back on top of the nearby TV, you unzipped it to see what was inside. Your eyes went wide and a smile appeared on your face as you looked in the bag.

"Charlie this is all my stuff." you stated

"All your stuff you brought to the 1960s, your clothes, plus a few extra things that I thought you might want to take with you." He explained

You looked over the bag filled with all of your things, happy to see them all again and know that they were in your possession, but you were confused as to why Charlie presented them to you.

"Thank you Charlie, but why did you bring this to me?" You questioned

The smile on Charlie's face faltered as he looked at you.

"I had a gut feeling this morning that today would be...it. So I packed up all of the stuff that I knew you would want or need and brought it with me when I left the mansion this morning. I didn't want you to not have any of it in case this happened." He explained

"Well I appreciate it. I'd be very sad if I didn't have this stuff with me." you replied

Your smile from seeing your stuff faltered as well. Charlie was right, this would be it. You had no clue if or when you would ever see him again. You could feel your heart clench once more as you realized you had to say goodbye to another person you loved. Turning away so he couldn't see the pain on your face you started to zip up the bag to take it with you to the car. Beofe you could get the bag closed though Charlie exclaimed,

"Oh, one more thing!"

Turning your attention back to him you watched as he pulled something out from his back pocket. Handing the item to you, you saw that it was an envelope addressed to you. Turning it over you started to open it but were stopped when Charlie requested,

"Don't read it now. Read it once you leave in the car."

Place the letter into the bag, you looked back to Charlie and asked,

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to stay here, find some duct tape and make it look like I was a hostage so when the FBI comes I can say the ''terrorists" took off to Mexico with you and the boy."

You let out a laugh at his plan. Granted, it would probably work to buy you and the rest of the group some time but you still found it a bit silly to duct tape himself. Rolling your eyes you stated,

"Well at least I can always count on you to be my alibi, but what happens after that?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll start a painting business. Maybe I'll fall in love. We'll just have to see I guess." he answers with a shrug "Anyway, let's get you going."

Rushing towards your friend, you enveloped him in a tight hug which he reciprocated. You took in a deep breath as you tried to savor the moment, not knowing when something like it would ever come again. As Charlie held you he felt what felt like a tiny zap on the back of his head. Pulling back to look at you he questioned,

"Did you just shock me?"

"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." You replied

Charlie rolled his eyes at you as you closed up your duffle bag of stuff. Placing the bag on your shoulder the two of you walked outside the building and towards the car. Seeing you in the sideview mirror, Five stepped out and opened the door so you could slide into the front seat between him and Vanya. Getting into the car you place your bag on the floor while Five slid in to the right of you. From outside Charlie closes the door before leaning into the open passenger window. Taking a look at you, he then turns to Five with a smile and comments,

"Keep her safe, will ya Five? She's one of a kind."

"I swear on my life I will." Five replies, wrapping and arm around you

Looking back to you he lets out a small sigh before saying,

"Goodbye (Y/N)."

"Goodbye Charlie." You reply

Standing up from the window, Vanya started to pull out of the alley and on to the road. As the car drove off, you watched as the silhouette of Charlie grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until he was gone. Pulling the letter he gave you out of your bag, you opened the envelope and started to read it.

(Y/N),

I knew this day would come and I’ve had a draft of this letter prepared for a while but I never knew when I’d have to be writing this. After a while I thought I may be lucky and I’d never have to but this day had to come eventually.

I’m not good at saying goodbye because I’ve never really had anyone to say goodbye to. The last person I cared enough about when saying goodbye was my mom. You’re the second person in my life where it brings me pain to let you go.

Before you I didn’t have anyone. I was alone and by chance you fell into my life. Or I guess more so I fell into yours and I’ll be forever thankful for that day.

You’re the only friend I’ve ever had and closest friend I probably will have. I was lost and alone and you helped me find my way. You brought a light to my life I had never had before and showed me what life could be like. I learned how to live because of you.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do without you here all the time. No one else is going to yeet a sleeping bag at me or confuse me with facts about the future. It’s going to be difficult adjusting to life without you but I hope whatever I do next is something that can make you proud.

I wish you could stay here, but I know this isn’t your time. And I wish I could go with you, but I know it’s not what you’d want for me. Just know though that you’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for and I hope to see you again someday soon.

Sincerely,

Your friend

Charlie

As you finished reading the letter silent tears fell from your face and you realized that whatever came next, there was no turning back from it now.

______________________

Click here for: The Vortex That Takes Me To You - “Me, Lu, and Five Times Two” Side Story

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[tennessoui]

1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.

ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3

1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)

Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.

It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.

Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.

Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.

Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.

They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.

Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.

He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.

But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.

Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.

Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.

When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.

Well. Not alone, actually.

A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.

He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.

“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.

It’s so small.

His soulmate must be...must be just as young.

Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.

But he has a soulmate.

-----

Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.

His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.

“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”

Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.

Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.

Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.

The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.

Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.

And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.

A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”

Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”

She grins at him and licks his face.

“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.

----

Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.

He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.

She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.

“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.

Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”

It is not normal, thanks.

Odyna howls in agreement.

When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.

Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.

He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.

Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.

His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.

If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--

He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.

Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”

Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.

“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.

It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”

Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”

Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”

“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”

Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.

But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”

Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”

“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”

Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.

-----

“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”

“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.

“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”

“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.

Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.

Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.

I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.

Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.

Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.

-----

Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.

It’s kisses.

More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.

[autisticandroids]

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

they were roommates

Warnings - non consensual sex, anal sex, somnophilia, forced drug use

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words - over 2k

A/N - READ THE WARNINGS - I can’t stress this enough. Also if you are under 18 just shoo, bugger off. I wrote this from a prompt on @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ stalker writing challenge, the prompt was your roommate isn’t who you thought they were. I’m still super new to writing and this is new territory for me, as always a huge massive thankyou to my beautiful wife @buckyownsmylife​ she helped me a lot and continues to hype me up.

It’s been six weeks since your friend got a new job upstate and moved out,. You’ve had an advert out for a new roommate but so far everyone who’s applied has either been rude or hasn’t shown up. You’re running low on your savings and would probably accept Satan himself if he could pay his fair share. That’s when your latest applicant knocked on your door.

James was polite and charming, he offered to pay a month up front to secure the room and could move in as soon as possible. You felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders when he moved in later that week, it was a bit odd that he had no friends to help him but he didn’t seem to have a lot of stuff and had himself sorted while you worked in your home office.

The first night he offered to buy pizza and beers so you could get to know each other better, it turns out you two had a lot of things in common and he was easy to get along with. You must have had a few too many beers because your head felt fuzzy, deciding it was time to go to bed. You said goodnight to James and stood up but felt so dizzy you had to immediately sit back down. James was so sweet though, looking after you, he actually picked you up and put you to bed so you didn't have to walk the short distance to your room.

Waking up the next morning you realised you were wearing a t-shirt you didn’t recognise but you didn’t remember getting changed, your mouth felt strangely dry so you got up for a drink. That’s when the soreness hit you, in between your legs, rushing to the bathroom you were confused that you weren’t getting your period and nothing seemed to be different. You assumed you were getting sick and went for hot tea to soothe yourself.

Sitting at the kitchen counter drinking and nibbling on some dry toast, James walks in looking like he’s just been for a run. He grabs a bottle of water and walks over to you giggling “you can’t possibly be hungover you only had three drinks last night” you look up at him smirking and sarcastically respond, “yeah, well, maybe I’m just a lightweight”.

As you get up to clear away your mess he clears his throat making you turn. “Should we have a system for when we have people over in the future?” You look at him confused. “I’m sorry what do you mean? Do you want to bring someone over tonight?”

He chuckles at you, “Well no, not tonight but if you want your friend from last night to come back I can make sure you have some privacy,” he offers you, smirking at the confused look on your face.

“I’m sorry, I don't understand, I went to sleep last night. I didn’t have anyone over.” Taking a step closer, he leans on the counter separating you both. “Then who did I hear you with last night and who did I kick out this morning?” You stare at him open mouthed and scurry off to your room to check your phone for some clues, you feel your chest tighten when you see that you matched with someone last night and invited him over. How could you not remember? You were absolutely mortified, what is James going to think of you now?

Sitting in your home office talking to idiot customers on the phone all day, you try to take your mind off what happened last night. How can you have invited someone over, had sex and apparently stolen his t-shirt without even knowing? You vow there and then you aren’t drinking ever again. However, the end of the week rolls by and it's been the absolute worst, your boss is a dick, your customers are all idiots and to top it off your best friend hasn’t responded to your calls all week and you don’t know why.

You have a quick shower and decide to spend the night binge watching whatever you can find on Netflix when James sits next to you handing you a gin and tonic. “Thanks but I’m not drinking for a little while.” You go to put the drink down but he pushes it up to your mouth

“Don’t be silly, you’ve had a hard week. One drink won’t hurt” smiling at him you take a sip and he’s right, you instantly relax and get cosy on the sofa, ordering chinese and laughing at the show you both decide on. Waking up in the middle of the night with a dry mouth again, you find yourself laying on your bed but this time you have your own clothes on which is a relief. Standing up, you feel a bit weird round the back like you’ve been stretched out with one of your plugs but that’s not possible, they’re hidden in your box under the bed.

You drink a big glass of water and sit on the kitchen counter, a little uncomfortably, but quietly and relax. Something has been off the last week and you can’t put your finger on it, it's always weird when you get a new roommate and you’ve put it down to that but you just sense something isn’t quite right. You lean your head back on the wall behind you and get a surprise when James walks round the corner. “Hey doll, you feeling ok? You looked a bit sickly earlier and went to bed. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You nod at how sweet he was and drink some more water before hopping down. “I’m fine just going to sleep it off.” He takes your glass for you, offering to wash it and says goodnight, watching you walk away very closely and licking his lips as his eyes roam over your body.

It’s been a few weeks now since James moved in, he’s got to be the best roommate you’ve ever had. He pays his bills on time, keeps the place spotless and he’s such a good cook, always making food and drinks for you. It's lucky that he’s so kind because none of your friends seem to be in touch anymore, you message them and even try calling them but no one ever replies.

You sit watching your usual Friday night film with drinks and Chinese takeout, talking to James about both your weeks, tonight though he sits closer than usual and his face seems to light up when you talk to him. He’s possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in real life, you’ve never looked at him that way before because not only is he your roommate but he’s so far out of your league it's laughable. You tell one of your stupid jokes and he laughs with his whole body, his arm goes around the back of the sofa and he pulls you in close, hugging into him, you relax biting your lip when he kisses the top of your head.

That was the beginning of it for you both. You had daily movie nights, he cooked for you every day, listened when you got upset that your friends seemed to have dropped you and even encouraged you to start running with him. Everything felt perfect, you still occasionally woke up sore with a dry mouth but James told you it was just your body getting used to all the exercise you were now doing. Both of you had really found each other, loners who just needed someone to listen.

You went down to collect your mail one day and stood talking to your elderly neighbour when she told you how familiar James looked, she couldn’t work out where she knew him from but she praised you on finding such a nice young man who apparently had carried her groceries up the stairs for her when the elevator was broken. Smiling at her you told her to have a good morning and went back to your apartment looking at the thick brown envelope addressed to you, you never really got anything in the post except the occasional leaflet. James had made you a coffee and you smiled at him taking the package in your room to open while you got ready to have a shower.

In the shower you decided tonight would be the night with James, you shaved yourself from head to toe and used your best lotions. Winking at him as you walked to your room, he had a weird look on his face and couldn’t seem to look at you. In your room the envelope had been moved, it looked like it was open too. Bending down to pick it up you hear James behind you but before you can turn around you feel a pain in your neck and everything goes dark.

You wake up with a blinding headache and go to move but your body feels too heavy. “Ssshh sweetheart, don’t move, I had to tie you up for your own safety.” You look at him confused, trying to pull on your wrists but you can’t move.

“James, what’s happening?” Sitting next to you he slips some ice chips in your mouth to ease your dry throat and takes a deep breath.

“You can blame your friend, we were so happy and she had to try and take you away from me.” A tear runs down your cheek, you’ve never heard him talk like this and it’s terrifying. “I told your little friends to leave you alone or I’d take care of them all but they just didn’t listen.” He throws the envelope down and slowly shows you the newspaper clippings and articles they had sent you, apparently he was on the run and considered dangerous, something to do with what happened with the helicarriers that crashed a few months ago.

“I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore,” he says with a smirk, wiping your tears away and tutting. “Don’t be scared of me, I’m doing this for you, for us!” Pulling on the restraints on your feet and arms again he shouts, “Enough!” You stop immediately, scared of what he‘ll do if you don’t. “You were so nice to me on the phone when I first got free, you helped me hire that car that brought me to New York. I hacked into your company's database and found you. Your roommate was easy to convince with a little bit of money and I hired all those people to come and see you so when I finally got my chance you’d want me as much as I’ve wanted you”

“Why didn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?” You managed to stutter out, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“You never leave the house, you stay home all day working then sit watching TV all night, I saw you through the webcam. You really should be more careful.” He smirks before running his fingers over your naked body. Feeling how smooth and soft your skin is he smiles. “Did you do all this for me? Sweetheart, I’ve already had all of you, you don’t have to do anything special for me. I love you just the way you are”.

The realisation hits you and you sob loudly. “Have you been touching me while I sleep?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at you with so much admiration.

“You’re so smart, I’ve been preparing you to be mine. I didn’t know how long it's been since you’ve been with a real man, not those silly little toys under your bed and I wanted our first time to be special. I even set up that fake dating account so you would think you had a guy over on that first night.” He strokes your cheek and you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from crying.

“James I’m cold, can you untie me and we can talk properly, please.” He studies your face for a brief moment before leaning forward and chuckling in your ear.

“You can’t think I’m that stupid baby, oh and you can call me Bucky now. If you’re going to be mine forever we need to get better acquainted.” He drops his sweatpants and straddles your hips. “We’re going to have so much fun”.