#my two sure corner lotto

[jessybarnes]

Bunker Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, and protective!Dean

Betas: @winecatsandpizza

Word Count: 4,667

Fic Aesthetic: Yours Truly

A/N: This is a repost from my old Tumblr account. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation. 

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started.

These weren't just any run-of-the-mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went to sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy. 

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly. 

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention, the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with. 

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows rising quizzically. 

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.” 

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table. 

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer. 

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes. 

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again. 

“I’m. Fine."

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them. 

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence. 

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings. 

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves. 

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep. 

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted. 

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door. 

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you fucking bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet. 

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you. 

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty, little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit. 

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features. 

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks. 

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. 

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being 'just dreams'. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you. 

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing. 

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were. 

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship. 

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this… I’m pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm. 

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled. 

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued. 

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot on the old floor. 

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly. 

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need to. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep. 

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbing into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.”

The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flames and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird.”

Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to -

“Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning.

Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photoshoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again.

“Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light.

Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss.

“Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?”

You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours.

“You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his.

Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breasts and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one.

“You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly.

The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it.

Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his Adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seeping from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement. 

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core.

But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him, and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body.

“Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust.

“Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated than you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

[delphiealmond]

Chaos By A Rose Bush

Pairing ᯓ★ Lee Jeno x Park Jisung / Johnny Suh x Na Jaemin / Mark Lee x Na Jaemin / Johnny Suh x Xiaojun / Wong Yukhei x Wu Yifan / Kim Jungwoo x Lee Taemin / Ten Lee x Lee Taeyong

Synopsis ᯓ★ Ten Lee is a simple guy who moved to Korea to fulfill his dream job as a doctor. Lee Taeyong is trying to keep everyone safe as much as he can. Wong Yukhei is trying to take over the world. Neozone is well known for keeping the streets of Seoul, South Korea safe. though the people think otherwise. Neozone creates deals with other mafia groups that try to fight against them, and Neozone is known to take down other mafia groups that try to cross their path. Except for one. Lumidome is China's most wanted Mafia group. They are the most dangerous, with members who are strong, smart, independent and dangerous. They want Korean territory. Will Neozone be able to protect their home from invaders?

Warnings ᯓ★ 18+, Swearing, guns, shooting, interrogation, torture

MASTER LIST : Previous | Next

CHAPTER THREE (6k)

Just as Taemin had stated, Unit 127 arrived home soon after the sun rose. They returned from Lotto City, a part of town that wasn’t touched by law. A place where most gangs created a truce among each other and parted their ways with their choices. This place was just so notorious for their gang activities, the government stopped trying to tame them.

Last night, however, wasn’t as simple as the usual gang meetups are. Things didn’t go as smoothly.

Flashback

Sitting on a long velvet couch as if it were his throne was Byun Baekhyun, sat the owner of the most famous strip clubs in Lotto City. Some would say he was a prince due to his looks, while others would call him a queen. He spent most of his time in his own club, earning money faster than any other part of Lotto City.

He was a queen in fact, with no king at his side…

As the night began to calm down, the alcoholics picking up to leave back to their regular lives and back to their families, the illuminated neon lights shadowed the movements of sinister men and women alike with activities far beyond innocent minds reach. 

It was usual to see the man staying away from the alcohol throughout the building. With the looks from Jaehyun and Chanyeol, he knew he had made the right choice of that night.

“You know Channie, you look like you need to relax. Maybe pick your choosing from my crew?” Baekhyun announced, crossing his leg over his knee as he snapped his fingers. A barely clothed woman and man stepped over to the owner and sat on either side of him.

“Damn it Baekhyun! We aren’t here to fool around with some of the whores you have hiding around here!”

Jaehyun’s typically warm and gentle demeanor was replaced with a harsh, cold one that Baekhyun had learned to strongly dislike. It always seemed that some of the most soft-hearted people don’t stay the same once they enter Lotto City.

Sure, understandably Jaehyun was one of Taeyong’s second hand men, but it didn’t stop the fact that Baekhyun ran his own business and was able to act himself around a setting that usually set an uneasy stomach to others.

In some words, Baekhyun was the queen of his own world.

“I truly understand your expressions and words. But might I remind you, that right now you’re sitting in my territory, and as a matter of fact I won’t take that type of talk about my crew here.”

“And must I remind you that you are under the orders of Taeyong, who is our boss and right now we have a job to do. So, you can shoo your ‘crew’ away and we can keep doing our work.” It wasn’t Jaehyun who spoke this time, but Chanyeol who was usually distracted by the dancing strippers on the small pole stages.

“Oh hey, you do actually pay attention to these conversations.” Baekhyun waved his hand, as the two crew members left his sides, leaving him in the room with just Jaehyun and Chanyeol.

Park Chanyeol, Neozone’s 127 number two in command. He was usually one to mess around during work, cracking jokes around every corner with sarcasm tracing his lips every turn. It was no joke though that he could become a cold-hearted bastard when it came to over professional work. Or even the innocent.

There was a thick rumor around the gang world that Park Chanyeol was the leader of Neozone instead of Taeyong. And sometimes, Baekhyun believed it. There were times when even with his chipper attitude, where he could crack open a skull with a hammer without even trying too hard. He seemed like a sweetheart, tall and goofy but never one to tease too harshly.

The story of how Chanyeol even became so hazardous was a secret that he planned to take to his grave, a secret that not even his closest people would know.

Each and every member that sat inside that building, understood their mission so no personnel needed to mention it. The longer they waited in silence, the thicker the air felt. As if it could be simply cut with a sharp knife blade.

And that knife blade was Ozaki Shotaro.

The sound of the front door slamming startled all three members to their feet. In the doorway stood Shotaro, the youngest member of Baekhyun’s gang of the city. He panted, a gun in one hand as the other rested against his forehead.

“Hey, hi. It’s me, um, I hate to disturb the conversation, but um,” He stole a quick glance out the door window. “We’re under attack?” he questioned, unsure of the entire situation.

With one glance to Jaehyun, they knew that this was the call.

“They’re here.”

Those words triggered the two others to grab their guns and started to load them as gunshots were heard outside the door. People’s screams echoed throughout the city’s roads as dancers quickly scurried off their stages and into the closest hiding spot they could find.

Baekhyun’s partner in crime, Kim Junmyeon, otherwise known as Suho, kept the gang hidden at a base building and tried their darndest to keep the rivals from pushing forward. But once Baekhyun arrived in the front room with the other two members, he was met with utter chaos all over his streets.

Fires had started along the roads and in trash cans as people raced in all directions in pure panic. Windows were smashed as cars were crashed into huge blockings in the middle of the road. Whoever decided to do this to Baekhyun’s Lotto City, became an enemy to every single gang in Korea.

Jaehyun, Chanyeol and Shotaro’s gang stood ground in front line groups, searching for any other allies that were able to lend a hand no matter what.

In the sheer destruction of the roads outside of the building, Chanyeol caught a glimpse of one of his fellow members in need of help, struggling to hide from the danger of the rival’s attacks. One of them sat on the ground, back pressed against a car as he shot.

Without a second thought, Chanyeol loaded his gun and burst through the door, ignoring any instructions from Jaehyun.

“Chen! I’m here! I’m here!” He dropped the gun and swung an arm under the members arm and pulled him up. Blood seeped out from the gunshot wound on his thigh, his hand pressed firm against it to try to stop the bleeding. But before Chanyeol could pull the member fully out of the rival’s harm, he stopped in his tracks.

“Johnny!”

When Chanyeol turned around, it was as if the entire world was in slow motion but himself. He watched as Johnny was being dragged away by one of the rival’s members.

“Rose! He-“

But before Rose could lunge forward, arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.

“What are you doing?!” She screeched, scratching at the arms around her waist.

“no! We both know Johnny is capable of dealing with them himself! But staying here we’re risking all of our lives! We need to get out of here, right now.” Yuta bellowed. His words were true, and no one could fight against that.

Chanyeol would have also run over to help Johnny, but the weight of Chen’s body next to him snapped him back to reality.

“he’s right, we need to get out of here.”

As the four members made their way back to the shattered doors of the club, the other gangs’ members were getting into their black, shiny cars.

“Hey Xiumin?? What about us?!”

“Sorry man, but gotta stay loyal to the gang!” The door slammed shut as the cars sped off as fast as they could away from the chaos.

Neozone had many allies, but now they were forced into a game of truth or dare.

“God damn it! Baekhyun, get your ass out of here! Our van is in the back alley, go!” Yuta snapped as he turned to walk the other direction.

Jaehyun was able to grab his wrist before he was able to make a step any further.

“And where the hell do you think you're going?!” He shouted, anger heard in the rumble of his voice.

“Let go of me Jaehyun.”

“Answer my question.”

“that doesn’t concern you,” Yuta pulled his wrist away from the other member. “I’ll be right behind you.” And with that as his final statement, he gave a glare to the subunits leader before disappearing into the crowd of chaos, smoke, and flames.

Jaehyun’s hands formed fists before he turned and started in the direction of the van. Chanyeol wrapped his arm around Chen to keep the older stable.

“Fuck it. Let's go. If he’s not with us in 10 minutes, we’re leaving without him.”

It was obvious that Jaehyun was fuming. No one spoke a word, no one needed to. All the group did was follow the man back to the car. Baekhyun even knew not to make a comment, he understood how his friend could just snap at the sound of any word from anyone’s mouth.

And he most definitely didn’t want that.

End of flashback

~~

After the strange morning with Taeyong, Ten made it to class just about a minute before the class started. Though the exhaustion from the night before was forcing him into a state of sleep. He struggled to keep his attention on his class and his professor’s words. He mindlessly copied the notes off the board onto his notepad. He knew he had to pay attention to what the professor was saying, but the infatuation with the man in his apartment was all he could think about.

Maybe it was because of the lack of interaction with people, or maybe it was just because Taeyong was trying to be nice, but Ten’s first instinct was to believe he was catching feelings. He sure as hell knew though, the chances of seeing the fiery red head again was very slime, but he could still hope and dream.

Afterall, he’s been living in a fantasy instead of the reality around him. It was one of the best escapes from the harsh words of the world.

It was a sudden bang that pulled his attention away from his dreamy thoughts. The large doors of the lecture theatre were slammed open and footsteps marched down the steps. As Ten turned his head to look at all the commotion, he regretted it.

“Mr. Leechiayapornkul, you are under arrest for associating with Korea’s most dangerous gang, NCT and the escapement of their leader, Lee Taeyong. You have rights to a lawyer, if you can’t afford a lawyer, the state will provide one for you. Whatever you say or do will and can be held against you in the state of law.”

At the words of ‘under arrest’ Ten felt every inch of his being drained from his body. His heart sank into his stomach as anxiety started to creep into his throat. Before he was even able to register what just happened, he was pulled out from his chair and handcuffed. His eyes scanned the entire theater as students watched in shock, fear and even disgust. The eyes of his teacher gave a sympathetic message as one of his top students was being pulled out of his classroom.

He was dragged out of the room without being told of the evidence they gathered on him. For all he knew, there wasn’t any.

No.

No, was the word that raced through his head as his eyes felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He was so close to finishing the course and moving on in his life. He was not getting arrested. He could already hear the disappointment from his mother, the shame he would receive from his sisters. It was all just a stab in the heart as he shut his eyes, trying to suppress the tears.

Fortunately, Ten had no reason to fight against the police as they escorted him out of the building. Although the handcuffs were a little too much, the walk of shame to a police car was enough to understand if any student in the university would disregard him as a person. This would change how everyone in the school would see him. Now as an outcast.

~~

“Through late hours of the night, the infamous gang known as NeoZone was suspected to be the cause of the shootings at 3am. This shootout occurred close to the University campus and as we speak, police are conducting an investigation at the scene and questioning anyone who forth brings any suspicion. The scene is being searched-“

“What? Hey. I was watching that.”

Taemin looked up only to be met with his leader's deep brown eyes. Suddenly, all of the anxiety vanished from his chest. He felt whole again, happy to see Taeyong well and standing. Ever since Taemin left Taeyong at Ten’s, his anxiety was swirling around like a hurricane. He worried about him, but he also worried about Ten. He felt utterly guilty about leaving Taeyong with him without a proper explanation.

The wait though, to see the younger with them again reassured him that everything panned out well. Deep down, Taemin understood that Taeyong would never leave him or the family.

Taemin jumped to his feet and hugged the younger into a tight embrace, his worries crumbling away, feeling the warmth of the younger hug him back.

“Careful, Hyung… I got stabbed.”

“Oh! Sorry!!” Taemin took a step back and scanned over Taeyong. He looked well, strong for a man who did just get stabbed the previous night.

  “Where are the others?”

“The Dreamies are resting except for Sehun. From what I know, Kai is sparring with Rose while Mark is tending to Chen’s wounds. I know Jaehyun and Baekhyun went back to Lotto City while Yuta is… being distant in his own way.”

“And what are you doing?”

“I…” Taemin glanced back to the tv. “I was waiting for you to return home.” A smile appeared on the younger's face.

“Aw, did you miss me that much?”

“What else?” Taemin turned his attention to the younger. “You know what you mean to me… I couldn’t lose you so I’m glad your back…”

This time, Taeyong gave a gentle smile as he pulled Taemin into a softer embrace. Taemin could tell that Taeyong understood his worry as he hugged the younger back.

“Just don’t do that again…”

“no promises…”

“I hate to ruin this sickly-sweet moment, but boss I need to talk to you. Alone.” A demanding voice forced the two of them to part and look towards the figure. Taeyong’s eyes were met with Yuta’s cold ones. It was no surprise that Yuta knew that their leader had returned.

His eyes were almost always glued to the security cameras that surrounded the entire warehouse. He had the mind of a genius, someone who would be able to hack into any system and learn about absolutely anything if he wanted to.

But the look in his eyes was a lot colder than his usual gaze. Taeyong knew something was up and he knew that it was urgent.

Taeyong turned to Taemin who gave him a gentle smile.

“Get some rest, Taemin. You’ve worked hard.” He squeezed the olders arm before following Yuta.

The walk down to the high-tech security office was silent and tense. Neither of them had to say a word to understand that things weren’t as pleasant as what Yuta would usually find on the cameras.

The room was dimly lit, only the LED lights from the many screens lit up the room.

“What is it you need to talk to me about?”

“The rival gang. I bought myself some time last night and was able to fit some of the pieces together and learn more about them which I think you’ll want to know.”

Raising his eyebrow, Taeyong waved his hand, encouraging Yuta to continue. The younger sat and started to type away as soon as his fingers touched the keyboard. Tabs of familiar faces and pages of document writing disappeared behind the taskbar.

Oh, how deeply important of a member Yuta was. He was like the walking encyclopedia of Neozone. Knowing almost everything about each individual member.

“They call themselves ‘Lumidome’. A Chinese group that consists of 27 members in total. Highly dangerous but has a lot of good connections around the world with smaller groups. This is probably due to the fact that everyone who they associate with will either end up dead or in jail. They aren’t a friendly bunch, that’s for sure.”

Taeyong leaned forward and started to skim through the profiles that Yuta found over hours and hours of searching. He took in every possible detail that could help with their next encounter, which was bound to happen.

If it weren’t because of Taeyong’s cold and stern expression, he would even admit that the man was one of the most attractive men he’s seen.

“And their leader? Why isn’t there anything under his file?”

“Ah…. Wong Yukhei. Not much is actually circling the internet about him. Anyone who lived his presence were so shaken up. Apparently from what I learned, he’s quiet. Maybe a little too quiet, as his right-hand man does all of the talking. He seems to be manipulative and definitely not one to cross paths with. And from what I’ve seen last night in Lotto City, something's got his attention and crossed his path, and I think we’re the attention that crossed his path.”

Taeyong’s silence only made the space between the two of them even more tense. His eyes scanned over the perfect face of their leader. He was good at hiding his own concern, he had too many people to take care of, and he couldn’t let them see his worries.

Neozone was no fool to warn off strangers. They’d always have a fight if they tried to mess with them. But this group that grew faster than any other, grew uneasy in the pit of Taeyong’s stomach. Not only was he almost killed at one of the hands of the Main’s of Lumidome, but this group also had their hands over any security system in the world, letting them be able to do whatever they pleased with little to no consequences.

“It’s understandable that our security is shit, not as good as it should be due to the fact that we’ve been robbed. But… Boss, it’s not safe here anymore. Our allies are wearing thin due to what I’ve seen last night. We’ve been exposed and hell, we’re missing a member. People are getting more selfish these days and Lumidome seems like they’re gonna try to use that against us. We need to start coming up with a plan and quickly before they pull their first move.”

Taeyong’s demeanor didn’t change as he struggled to hide back his rage. He loved Yuta and he knew he could trust him, but the words from his mouth were too true to be heard. They needed a plan, and now.

As the older turned to leave the room, Yuta felt a familiar discomfort in his chest. He was keeping something silent from an important person who deserved to know. A secret that he wishes he didn’t get to witness.

“Taeyong,”

“Yes?” Taeyong stopped in his tracks and looked back to the blond.

“It’s about Johnny.”

Yuta must’ve jumped when Taeyong took a step forward towards the seat. Taemin never mentioned Johnny, or when he got home. His whereabouts were a complete mystery to him.

“What about him?” 

~~

All Johnny could remember was a grip so tight that it bruised his arms. The streets of Lotto City; a complete and utter mess of fire, garbage and crashed car parts. The smell of burning rubber and iron as he was fighting for his life to get out of the grasp of the one holding him. He forced his eyes open, unable to fully comprehend where he was or what was going on. But to be pulled to his senses, his vision was blocked by something. His breathing was slightly restricted.

He struggled to pull himself up, but the lock of rope behind the chair stopped him from moving. His ankles tied to the chair as he struggled to get up once more.

The sudden impact of freezing cold water washed over his entire body as he sat still. The potato sack over his head, forcing him to struggle even further to breathe, as he began to choke. The bright light impact on his eyes made him involuntarily shut them. He choked on the remaining water and shuddered. Finally adjusting, he opened his eyes and slowly scanned the area around him.

From what he could tell, it was an old warehouse, but most definitely not Neozone’s. Lurking in the darkness, Johnny could see torn apart ships and engines. He was in the old harbour. He pulled again on the rope that kept him restrained until he heard the solid footsteps from behind. His entire body froze as his heart sank to his stomach. He swallowed dryly and took a slow deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

He listened until he was able to view the one walking. His back was faced to him, but Johnny could tell he was someone well taken care of. With the shine of the leather pants he wore, to the tailored jacket with silver chains on it. Johnny grimaced as his eyes watched the man turn around.

The man sat in a chair, not too far from where Johnny was positioned, but it was as if he had his own throne just sitting there. Another man came up beside him, emerging from the darkness. He was blond and tall. Dressed just as nicely as the seated one.

The brunette gave a nod, which confused Johnny until he felt the ice-cold water rush over his body all over again. He coughed in response, shutting his eyes tight as the sting of water entering his eyes pained through his entire head.

“I assume you know why you’re here, Johnny Suh.” A deep voice hummed, clear as day. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at the two men. At first glance, he believed the two of them were brothers, but with the clearly different facial features, and postures, he could tell that they were nothing alike.

“You’re the damn rivals.”

“Hey now, you don’t need to use such language with us. We just want to get to know you.” The brunette crossed his knee over his leg as his hands began to fiddle with the rings aligned on his fingers.

“You won’t get an answer out of me. You’ll have to beat me up senseless before you can get a word from me.” Johnny threatened. The blond shook his head with a low hum.

“Now that’s not the response we wanted.” His eyes felt as if they pierced through Johnny’s soul and devoured it. He was shivering from the cold and already feeling woozy from the water. The brunette gave another nod, looking to Johnny’s right side. But before he was able to glance to his side, his face was pummeled with a fist, sending what felt like needles through his entire jaw.

Blood started to swell in his mouth as he spat it out on the floor in front of him.

“Now. You play nice with us, and we’ll play nice with you.” The blond stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the tied-up Korean. His hand gripping his chin, so he could get a good view of him. “Sound like a fair deal?”

Johnny’s eyes glazed over as he shot a fierce glare at him.

“Fuck you.” He muttered, his mouth tasting of blood. The blond’s expression fell. His face became cold and his eyes distant. He walked back to the one in the chair before pausing.

“It’s a shame… You have such a pretty face too.” The brunette stood, fixing his jacket. He looked directly into Johnny’s eyes. His own brown ones reflecting Johnny’s position in a cold gaze. He gave another nod, before his figure started to disappear into the darkness alongside the blond.

Johnny’s heart started to race as he pulled harder on the rope binding him.

“Shit!!” He roared looking at his surroundings. There was no way out of this position. Next thing he knew, there was a face in front of his own. What looked like just black eyes stared at him as the man in front of him gave an evil smile.

He fisted a handful of Johnny’s hair and pulled his head up, bringing forward a yell from the seated one. He pulled his head to the side as his eyes examined Johnny’s jugular. He tried to fight off the hand, but nothing of his motions would get the man off him.

The white haired gave a pleasing hum before he let go of the black locks in his hand. Johnny’s eyes gave off a heat of hatred to the other as all he received in return was a sinister smile.

“He was right, you did have a nice face.” He hummed, before all Johnny can remember seeing was a fist aiming straight at his eyes. 

~~

Sitting in the quiet space of an all grey room, Ten was seated with his hands handcuffed to the center of the table. His fingers ran along the details in the palms of his hands as he awaited for the officers to return to the room.

He hadn’t been interrogated before, but he understood what comes with it due to watching all of the tv shows with his sisters when he was a child. A silent swirl of anxiety was trapped inside his chest. Like butterflies stuck under a net with the struggle to escape. The smallest sound outside of the metal door sent a shiver down Ten’s spine. He was surrounded by a world of law he knew was different from the laws in Thailand.

The words of what the officer said to him repeated in his mind, Being taken into custody for questioning about your interactions with the gang Neozone, and their leader Lee Taeyong. He was genuinely curious about what Taemin got himself into. He began to wonder if Taemin knew of the situation, wondered if Taemin knew he was the leader of Korea’s most dangerous Mafia gang.

But then again, with all of the drama in his apartment the previous night, he wouldn’t second guess if Taemin was somehow involved. He gave a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He remembered seeing Taemin’s eyes that night. They reflected exactly what he felt the day he left Thailand for Korea.

He didn’t tell his mother about his leaving, nor his sisters. Just a note on the kitchen table, telling them he’ll be gone for a while. Taemin’s eyes reflected exactly what he hid behind an emotionless face the day he got on a plane. Imagining the scared, shaken up Taemin at his door with a bleeding forehead and a limp body by his side began to make more sense.

He was just beginning to put the pieces together when the metal door opened, bringing Ten’s attention to the two people who entered the room. One was dressed in a police uniform as he sat across from him, while the other was dressed in a nicely pressed suit and stood by Ten’s side.

“May I have a minute with my client?” His features were soft as his eyes looked at the officer. Though he just sat down, he gave a simple nod before leaving the room to the two.

The man looked around the room before he set down his briefcase on the table. He sat across from Ten as his fingers linked with each other. He had gentle eyes, a light brown. Ten always believed that a person’s eyes can tell you a lot about who they are. And as he looked at this man’s eyes, he felt safe and calm in his presence.

“I’m Cha Eunwoo. I’ll be your lawyer. Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure that the conversation is driven in the right direction and not intended to cause any other stress you may already be feeling.” Ten let out a soft sigh as he nodded.

“I’m Ten. I'm honestly glad that you’re here, I haven’t lived here for long and yet I’m sitting in an interrogation room.” He chuckled nervously, his hands now fiddling with the chain connected to the handcuffs.

Eunwoo gave a gentle nod.

“I can understand. Now, I want you to know you don’t have to answer something if you don’t feel comfortable answering it. I can understand the pressure you must be feeling right now, but as soon as the officers can get their answers, you will be able to leave this place.” Eunwoo assured.

With another small nod, Eunwoo faced the mirrored window and gave a nod. He pulled out the seat next to Ten and sat down. The officer returned to the room, forcing Ten’s anxiety to go spinning out of control all over again. He still couldn’t believe that he was seated in handcuffs, but all of it was happening. It wasn’t a fantasy.

“Now, Mr. Leechiayapornkul,” The officer turned on a recording device. “This device will just document our conversation. There’s nothing to worry about.” The older man linked his fingers and leaned forward against the table.

“What were you doing last night around midnight?” Ten’s mind was racing. He tried to remember what he was doing by midnight, and what he could remember was a simple answer away.

“Getting ready for bed, so I would be able to get up at a reasonable time this morning.” In the corner of his eyes, Eunwoo crossed his leg over his knee and placed his hands in his lap.

“And were you woken up at all during the night?” Ten’s hands fiddled with the chain. He didn’t quite know how to answer that, and that’s when his lawyer stepped up.

“You don’t have to answer that.” He hummed in response. Ten looked at him with pure confusion before he looked back to the officer sitting opposite from them.

“I was.”

“Do you recall what time?” The officer pressed. Ten swallowed dryly. From how his lawyer looked at him, he found himself creating a lie behind his truths.

“Um, I think it was around 4 or something like that?” He said, struggling to keep his composure of just lying to an official government officer.

“What woke you up?”

“My best friend. When I opened the door,” Ten paused but kept his eye contact with the officer. “He was drunk, so I took him in.” Ten felt Eunwoo’s eyes on him as his body began to feel warmer. He hoped to high hell that it wasn’t noticeable.

“He was drunk? How drunk?”

“Enough to not speak proper words to me. He slurred everything. This morning,” He shot a glance to Eunwoo. “before I left for school, he was on the couch and explained to me that my place was closer than his own and decided to walk to mine so he didn’t have to drive.”

“A very responsible friend you have there.” Ten gave a small nod before he bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

Eunwoo suddenly made a movement and sat forward. He placed his hands on the table and looked at the officer.

“May I ask how this has any connection to the involvement of my client in the shooting from last night?” His voice was firm and steady, professional. The officer was taken aback by Eunwoo and cleared his throat from how sincere the lawyer was.

“The shootings from last night were suspected to be the shootings of the gang Neozone. Any persons who were awake during the time zone of 2am to 3am is under questioning.”

“If my client was in bed from 2am to 3am, what are you implying?”

“Sir, I’m just doing my job and making sure that no one from the Neozone gang wandered into someone’s house to hide from the police until everything calmed down. Now we have suspicions that Mr. Leechiayapornkul was involved due to the conversations one of his neighbours heard outside in the hallway.” Ten’s entire body tensed at those words. Was the conversation with Taemin so loud that it brought his neighbours attention to it? Worry started to eat him from the inside out.

“What did they hear?” He asked, the words slipping past him before he could stop himself. Eunwoo then lifted a hand, as if to silence the handcuffed one.

“Did that conversation have anything to do with Neozone or Lee Taeyong at all?”

“Well…” The officer hesitated. “We have it written down that his next-door neighbour heard the commotion and was about to knock on the door when she heard someone heading to the door. But that’s all the information I can disclose as of right now.”

“So, due to my client’s friendship, there is a sneaking suspicion that he is possibly involved with gang activities?”

“We don’t know if the man that went to Mr. Leechiayapornkul’s apartment had any connections to the gang.” The officer admitted.

Eunwoo stayed silent for a second. This exchanged silence gave Ten a moment to breathe. He didn’t realize, but he was holding his breath almost the entire time Eunwoo was interrogating the officer. The interrogation changed, his lawyer was now working on getting answers from the officer instead of the officer getting answers from Ten. Secretly, deep in Ten’s core, he was glad he wasn’t in the spotlight at the moment.

“I believe firmly in my client’s words that he was woken up at 4am due to a drunken friend’s arrival because his place was closer.”

The officer simply gave a nod before he turned his attention back to Ten.

“Do me a favour, what is your friend's name?” Ten’s throat closed up on himself. He didn’t know whether to actually say his name or create a fake name to go along with the fake truth. He went to put a hand through his hair, but his wrist was stopped not even halfway there. He took a steady deep breath before he looked at the officer.

“his name is Kim Taemin.”

The officer looked into Ten’s eyes before he turned off the recorder. He stood and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs and set it down on the table.

“You’re free to go. But we will give you a call if anything comes up or if you need to be brought back in for more questioning.” And with that, the officer left the room. Ten’s entire body was shivering but not because he was cold. He had gotten away with lying to a police officer, with a lawyer who knew the rights and freedoms better than anyone else in the room.

Eunwoo unlocked Ten from the handcuffs before he grabbed his briefcase.

“Come with me.” Ten rubbed his wrists as he stood from the table. He finally was able to run his hands through his hair, his stress levels were increasing the more he had to lie through his teeth. He spent a moment just standing there with his eyes closed and his hands in his hair. Today most definitely wasn’t as good of a day as he hoped it would be.

He walked out of the building next to Eunwoo. There wasn’t much to talk about between the two of them, but Ten already felt guilty about lying to the officer. But deep down, he knew that if he had told the truth, it wouldn’t be an easy trial. He was now wrapped up into something way beyond his control and he was scared.

He didn’t even know if he could trust Eunwoo, his own lawyer. And yet again, he was right.

A large black escalade pulled up as the back door swung open. Another man was in the van with a girl with long brown hair. Both members wore masks, as they reached out and grabbed Ten by the wrists. Eunwoo pushed him in before he hopped in as well, slamming the door shut as the tires of the van screeched against the pavement. 

[mycryptosuite]

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[thera-daydreams]

INDAY

± A Trese Fic ±

[Crispin/Basilio/Maliksi/Dominic x Skymaiden!Reader]

01: Noon at Ngayon (✓)

02: Ang Kambal na Anak ni Datu Talagbusao, Diyos ng Digmaan (Link)

03: Ang Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang (Link)

04: Ang Pinuno ng Mga Aswang (Link)

05: (Link) 06: (Link) 07: (Link)

01: Noon at Ngayon

Back then, long before you were born, your mother used to work as a katulong of the Trese Family and was very close to its matriarch, Miranda Trese. Coming from the province, she was no stranger to superstitions—even more so after knowing the work of Miranda's husband Anton Trese, who was actually the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila.

Years later, after giving birth to you around the same time Miranda gave birth to her twins (one a stillborn, unfortunately), it was you and Alexandra who became best buddies instead, as different your personalities were. You two had practically grown up together and you yourself heard countless stories of the supernatural from your Tito Anton. It wasn't that hard to believe when he and his sigbin companions would sometimes come home tracking blood prints on the floors (which you'd helped your mother clean up). Heck, you'd even met Señor Armanaz, the Great Stallion himself and the ruling tikbalang of the Armanaz herd. That pretty, white-haired diwata seemed extremely fond of you, too, which was evident when you'd sneak in with Alexandra to Tito Anton's meetings and she would smile (even wave) at you happily.

You had absolutely no idea why the fae-like lady was so nice to you, but you weren't complaining at all!

However, in spite of your experiences with the supernatural, you and your mother always believed that you were normal humans. In actuality, that was who you were for the majority of your childhood. It was only until Miranda herself saw a vision of you—a much older you—fighting the monsters of the Underworld alongside her own daughter. During dinnertime, Miranda told your mother that she saw you blessed by the heavens with powers that would aid in the battle against evil.

It sounded absolutely ridiculous, right? Yeah, your mom thought so, too.

Your mother only laughed it off as she placed a steaming bowl of tinola in front of Alexandra's brothers, who instantly dug in like they haven't been fed in years.

"Boys! Dahan-dahan lang," Anton reprimanded his sons. "Or else you'll choke and the soup will come out of your noses!"

"Okay, Papa."

"Grabe ka naman, Miranda. I doubt that anything like that's going to happen to my daughter," your mom chuckled, watching your little hands try to feed Alexandra with a piece of chicken. "Unlike you guys, our lineage isn't anything special. Ordinaryo lang ang lahi namin."

Miranda sighed, looking at you and her only living daughter enjoying your time being kids, "I guess you're right. Baka panaginip lang talaga 'yun."

Anton glanced at her knowingly. Although he was aware that you and your mom didn't dabble in magic or anything like they did, he knew that whenever Miranda—one of the Seven Seers—had such vivid dreams, it was something of great importance. But he decided to say nothing, understanding how much your mother wanted to let you live as normal of a life possible in this household.

That was when you were seven years old. One year later, Miranda died fighting against a group of aswang who decided to betray Anton. Said man found the eight-year-old Alexandra hiding in a corner behind the waterfalls, scared and holding Sinag close to her heaving chest as she tried to hold her tearful sobs in.

Of course, a few days later, you and your mother attended the funeral with the mourning Trese family. All the brothers had done their best to stay strong, especially for their little sister who didn't fully understand yet what just happened. Little you ran towards Alexandra, holding her hand tightly as her mother's casket was lowered. Around you were various comrades, both human and non-human, paying their respects to their bereaved allies.

That day, as you turned your back to return to your mother's arms, you knew you would never forget the feeling of numerous unearthly eyes following your every movement.

Even they could sense that there was something about you, a so-called regular human child. You smelled human and had the aura of one, but there was something they couldn't place. It was like a tiny rock getting into your shoe, not coming out at all.

Much changed after that, but you and Alexandra remained close together. To your dismay, just after you graduated elementary, you and your mother had to move back to the province to stay with your sick grandparents. The last thing you could remember was kneeling in the back of the car, looking sadly through the rear windscreen as Alexandra and her brothers waved goodbye to you.

More than a decade had passed since then. You used to write letters to Alexandra, but after Hank told you she had to undergo the trials of the Puno ng Balete, you haven't heard from her (although Hank did disclose that she'd managed to come home safely, which was a great relief to you). You didn't blame her; you knew Tito Anton had passed away in the five years she was gone and that she had to take over the title of Lakan, as well as the Babaylan-Mandirigma of Manila. It was a demanding job! You remembered Tito Anton sometimes staying up all night—breakfast would be served and he would still be in his study, going over paperwork. On other days, he would be gone for consecutive nights handling cases all around Manila. You could only pray Alexandra was fine.

Your life had continued on, as well—you took care of your ill grandparents until they died, helped your mother in the province, went to a good highschool, then earned your degree in another prominent city that wasn't Manila.

Your mom actually recommended that you go to school somewhere else, given the constantly rising number of attacks in the capital of the country. And so you did. Life was hard, but normal until then.

The funny thing was that, when you reached the age of twenty-one, you finally understood why those supernatural creatures kept looking at you weirdly as a kid (and why Lady Diwata liked you so much).

What was even funnier was that the dramatic revelation came to you when you weren't in the Philippines. It was after you freshly graduated college, when you were traveling all over Asia to volunteer in charity projects. It was always your dream to one day expand your horizons not only beyond your province, but the Philippines itself, while also doing good in the world.

And here you were, walking that path you dreamt of.

The organization you luckily managed to become a member of provided everything you needed, and every few months, you would move from country to country. Because of that, you'd already been able to travel to so many places. First it was Thailand, then Indonesia, China, South Korea, India, Japan, Sri Lanka, Singapore, Malaysia, and currently, you were in Vietnam. Visiting those places was fun and gave you a whole new perspective of the world you lived in; it was a... learning experience, too.

Still, that incident happened when you were in Thailand, when you were the last one in the rented apartment balcony taping up the boxes for the donation drive tomorrow. Yawning, you cut more duct tape and stuck them to the open boxes tightly.

"Inday," someone said from behind you. You didn't bother turning around, thinking it was one of your fellow volunteers looking for you this late at night. Probably your roommate. She was the only one who usually called you by your nickname instead of your real name.

"Hmm?" you hummed, taping up more boxes. "Papasok na ako sa kwarto, Lyn. I just have a few more boxes to close. Alam mong mapapagalitan ako kung may hindi madidistribute bukas."

"Hindi ako si Lyn."

You paused, then slowly turned around, flinching at the sudden bright light that shone right against your eyes. For a moment, akala mo namatay ka na at hinaharap mo si San Pedro.

It was a glowing figure in white whose face you couldn't clearly see, which frightened you even more.

"Ay, mama!" you exclaimed, shielding your eyes and falling to your knees. Then, you gasped loudly, patting your body and panicking with closed lids. "Oh my God, am I dead? Nasa heaven na po ba ako?" Your lips wobbled. "Ngayon pa nga lang ako nakaalis ng Pilipinas... I haven't even done all the things I've wanted to do! Hindi pa ako nakapagpaalam sa nanay ko—aray!"

You'd felt something hit the back of your head. Hard. It was the glowing figure in white, but now you could see their unimpressed face scowling at you.

"Kalma lang, Inday. Hindi ka pa patay, pero makinig ka nang mabuti," they shushed you urgently (you weren't sure if they were male or female). "Do not be afraid. I am a messenger from the heavens, and I bear great news!"

"Great news...?" you trailed off, then your eyes widened excitedly. "Like, nanalo ba ako ng lotto? Isang milyon? Bilyon? Hala! Wait, is this a Mama Mary moment? I'm not ready to be the next immaculate conception!"

They glared at you, making you shut up instantly. "Sorry, I'll shut up now," you apologized with a mumble. This person (thing?) was kind of... strict. Whatever did you do wrong? You were just sleep-deprived and running on energy drinks (as well as kape).

"I have come to tell you that you are the vessel of the last skymaiden," they revealed, arms wide open. The light around them seemed to grow even brighter, making you squint. You felt like you were about the go blind! "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N L/N."

At ayun, zero brain cells remaining. Tunay na nagloading screen ang brain mo. Nag-error at nagcrash pa nga siguro, eh.

"... Ha? Ano?"

You blinked, completely speechless—as seen by how wide your jaw had dropped open. It wasn't that you were unfamiliar with the biraddali, it was just that you'd only heard of them once when you were just a young child. Your Tita Miranda had mentioned they were long gone from the world of the supernatural.

"Oh no, me? A biraddali? You're joking," you stuttered out, pointing at yourself. "Aren't they extinct or something? And, uh... not human?"

They nodded, "Yes. It is correct that everyone in the mystical world thought that the biraddali were long gone, even before the colonizers came to conquer the native lands. However, before the skymaidens all disappeared, the youngest and most powerful one among the seven sisters sealed her soul away to the rivers of time until the strength of a heavenly being was needed to help purify the evils of the world." The figure floated closer to you. "That last biraddali's soul, along with its corresponding power, traits, and knowledge, had chosen to reside deep within you the moment you were conceived."

Honestly, how were you even supposed to react? Your life was nowhere near ready for something like this. Was this a prank by your friends? Your colleagues? The light around this person seemed too authentic to be fake, though.

You stayed in shock for an entire minute, silent. The being in front of you only waited for a response.

"Ano 'to, Sailor Moon? Winx Club?" you whispered to yourself, before slapping your own cheek and scolding yourself. A stinging red mark was left on your face. "Inday, kakamanhwa mo 'yan! Nasosobraan ka na ata, matulog ka na!"

Sighing heavily, you rubbed your face tiredly, still in disbelief that you—according to this stranger—were apparently some old soul from a species of ethereal beings that were long gone. It sounded like something out of those reincarnation webnovels you got addicted to. What now, you were the MC? Wattpad ka, girl?

"Look, this is a mistake. I still have to wake up early tomorrow to give out the donations," you spoke to the glowing being (or whatever it was), laughing nervously. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person. Either that or I must be hallucinating from sleep deprivation, because I'm definitely not a divine creature. You're probably just a product of my imagination. Sorry, I'm going to bed."

Bang!

At that moment, the power in the building went out. The only thing you could see was the thing who assumed you were a biraddali (they were so bright they were like a flashlight in the dark for you).

"Brownout?" you blinked. It felt wrong, though. It was eerily silent. "Did a fuse blow up?"

"Nagsimula na ang iyong unang pagsubok, Y/N," they announced seriously. "Creatures of the dark have already begun to take over this building. You may not have noticed, but all throughout your life, you have always been helping and giving. It is your nature as a being descended from the heavens themselves, and now, it is time for you to accept your destiny."

"Hoy, sandali lang! Sandali, sandali!" You were absolutely wide awake now as you heard the sounds of strange whispers around you. It was terrifyingly creepy, much creepier than whatever you'd seen back in the Trese Residence (and you'd seen a lot in that house). You did not want to be a part of a horror movie-like lifestyle. "Don't I have a choice in this?! I—I don't have any training or fighting skills! Hindi ako Alexandra Trese o Babaylan-Mandirigma! I'm not ready for this, holy sh—"

The candescent creature raised a brow at you, "Inday, I just told you that you have the power of a lost mystical being. And tell me, if you had the power to save your companions in this building from the forces of evil, would you save them?"

You were silent, knowing the answer.

"Well?" they prodded.

You bit your lip, "Oo naman. I'm not heartless!" But you were a little impulsive. And apparently, insane.

"That's what I thought. I just need you to believe in yourself," the being encouraged, gentler this time. It transformed into something smaller and rounder—like a ball of light. "Ikaw ang huling biraddali, Y/N, at marami kang kapangyarihan. Isa dito ay ang pagtulong sa mga nangangailangan, lalo na laban sa masasamang nilalang."

Bestie, what had you just gotten into?

You swallowed apprehensively, then nodded in determination, "Sige. So, how do I save the people in the building? Biraddali were said to be able to shapeshift, right? If I remember the tale correctly. Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening to me right now."

"That's just one of your abilities, but I'll teach you. I'm actually your guide," they replied confidently. "With me, you'll be able to master your powers and exceed your capabilities in no time!"

"Wait! Anong pangalan mo?" you asked breathlessly, following them as they speedily flew out of the room. "Grabe, slow down! I'm not athletic! I haven't even exercised this week, goodness."

"... Gabay. Ako si Gabay."

Despite the adrenaline and fear running in your veins, you still grinned up at the ball of light, "Okay. Nice to meet you, Gabay."

This was just the beginning of your supernatural combat training abroad. When you returned to the Philippines three years later, you were stronger, faster, and more powerful than you'd ever felt before. It was crazy.

Oh, that guy who tried to rob you when you came back to Manila was crazy, too. The two identical-looking men in dark suits and white ties—you wondered how they were surviving the heat in that attire—could only watch in awe as you chased down that man who stole your bag while doing acrobatics and parkour.

"Uy, Kuya Crispin, sino kaya 'yun?"

"Ewan ko, Basilio."

"... She's kind of pretty. Type ko. Type mo rin ata."

"The more important question is, paano niya na nahuli ang magnanakaw?"

"Oo nga, no? One in a million chance 'yan dito sa Maynila, haha! Ang astig ni ate!"

(Next Chapter.)

± Author's Notes ±

Ayieee, type daw tayo ng kambal! 😌

How the hell did I write this entirely random thing in one day? 2k+ words? Ano daw? 😃⁉️

You know, this was supposed to just be a Trese one-shot or a bunch of drabbles for the characters I'm currently simping for... but it turned into a full-blown, shameless self-insert slash crackfic. Kakacellphone ko 'yan. 🤦‍♀️

Nagresearch pa ako ng articles about Filipino skymaidens because I wanted something similiar to the Japanese celestial maidens (tennyo). Very random idea but why not? Gusto ko ng badass Y/N na hindi takot lumaban sa mga mumu! 👻

Also, pagbigyan niyo nalang ang matandang 'to kasi ilang taon na akong hindi nagpopost ng mga writings ko. May track record pa naman ako bilang author na hindi nagtatapos ng mga fanfic, hehe. I also haven't read the comics so please forgive me for any inaccuracies and of course, misspellings/errors. Gusto ko lang matapos 'to para makakabalik na ako sa Jujutsu Kaisen. 🥲😗

Anyways, comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Hit those heart, reblog, and follow buttons for updates! Just comment if you want to be tagged in the next chapters. ❤

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

Babysitting Part 1

“...and after discussing with Lotek, I think we should both visit.”

“That does sound beneficial-”

“Dad.”

“-for both parties, though I’m not-”

“Dad.”

“-quite sure-”

“Daaaaad.”

Hermes sighed.

“Rufus, what do we do when someone else is talking?”

The boy looked between his Father and Gizmo.

“Dad, Argus won’t let me use his sword. Tell him it’s my turn.”

He gestured in a ‘see what I’m dealing with maner’, “... What would I do with the boys?”

Gizmo bent forward, hands on knees.

“Rufus, don’t you think you could make something better than a sword?”

His eyes lit up at Gizmo’s words, and quickly dashed off without another complaint. Hermes pulled at his thinning hair.

“See?”

“You may be worrying too much. They’ve been very well behaved recently, and getting someone to watch them for one night shouldn’t be a problem.”

In the distance, there were screams of laughter.

“Mmmh, well if you insist…”

“Excellent! I’ll send word back to Unsicher to expect two guests. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

—

That afternoon Hermes paid a visit to Burnert, checking in to see if he could deal with a couple more children for a day and a bit.

While Toni and the brothers got along like a house on fire, Burnet said he was expecting a new delivery of explosives for his shop and that he wasn’t confident it’d be safe to have that many children around such a shipment. He did offer to let them have a few hours play with Toni, just away from the shop.

He ran through the other possibilities. Lotek had enough going on as the new Mayor, Lotto was high on the list of potential bad influences, Lonzo also had a place on that list, Hanek couldn’t even remember his name- he basically needed someone who didn’t have a prior commitment like work, wouldn’t try teach the boys something irrational, was at least somewhat responsible…

Which led him to Tuck’s place. 

The short man was a bit of a hermit, living outside the town walls, offering a hand in seasonal work, but mostly keeping to himself. They hadn’t interacted much outside of town meetings, but on initial impression he seemed like a viable candidate. 

One meeting without large misconceptions later, and Hermes had his babysitter booked in. Tuck would even happily house sit so they could be within the town walls, and closer to others who could help should something go wrong. 

Though he assured Tuck that nothing would go wrong. The boys were good. It just never hurts to be prepared. 

Tuck nodded along in understanding, commending his dedication as a Father. 

So when the next morning dawned, Gizmo and Tuck arrived, and Hermes pulled the trio into a hug as they said their goodbyes. 

“Now boys, promise me that you’ll be good. Please.”

They each squeezed a bit harder.

“““Promise.”””

With a warm smile he stood, hoisting his travel bag over his shoulder while looking over each of them. He gave a nod to Tuck, who returned it, before he bid his last goodbye and began the journey out of town with Gizmo.

Part 1

Sometimes, Hermes wondered what Deponia must look like from Elysium.

Logically speaking, it probably didn’t look like much, since the city's height and design didn’t leave much of the planet in sight. But on a sentimental aspect, would people still think it a disgusting dirt ball? Or would they look longingly for solid ground?

Because for a landscape of trash, junk, and ruins, he’d grown to appreciate the charm behind it.

Walking side by side with Gizmo, down the human-worn path from Kuvaq to Unsicher, he had all the time in the world to gaze into the horizon, and compare it to his ancient memories. 

‘What had it looked like again?’

Then he’d watch Gizmo from the corner of his eye and wonder what it must look like to someone younger. How had things changed in just his years? Did he remember when cactus weren't the only greenery around?

“Oh, that’s new.”

He followed his gaze, spotting a large arch at the end of the path, with walls trailing along each side. 

“A recent construction?”

“Unsicher was just a few shacks and the mine entrance last time I was here. They must have had enough of a boom to grow the population.”

Junk trading was the most profitable job in the area, even more so if you came across a rare resource. Kuvaq was built atop of what the old world called a ‘mall’, so the things they pulled from the mines varied heavily, and was probably the reason the town had grown so fast. Unsicher must have come across their own unique resource. 

“Lends more to the reason why they’re asking for assistance then, if production has gotten beyond their means.”

Gizmo nodded, “Let's find the mayor.”

Within the walls, things were more reminiscent of home. Built mostly on the side of a hill, sheets of metal made up walls and roofs for 20, maybe 30 odd dwellings. The central road was wide and mostly straight in its whole run up to a hole in the side of the hill, clearly the entrance to their mine, while many narrow streets and alleys spouted off to the side like millipede legs. 

Balanced precariously above the hole was the largest building around, two stories accessed by a zig-zagging staircase, slathered in various remnants of different paint. With its external decorations looking like the strange toys Rufus would craft up, Hermes had the strong suspicion of the mayor likely getting a bit too absorbed in the amount of zlotti he was making. 

As they came closer, a broad shouldered man emerged and descended the stairs, waving towards them.

“Gismo! Long time no see!”

He leapt the final flight, dust flying on his landing. His grey, wiry hair betrayed his age, but his physical fitness was clearly still going strong, no falter in his steps as he stood tall and came right up with arms wide open.

“Waltraud, you’re looking well.”

The intended hug was avoided as the Mayor took the chance to flex.

“Yes, a strong leader makes a strong community!” He paused, then looked apologetic, “I heard of Kuvaqs loss, an unfortunate situation.”

“Things are fine in Kuvaq, Lotec is doing his best with what he’s been left with. But moving on, we’re here to talk about your mines, correct?” Gizmo placed a hand on his companion's shoulder, “As I mentioned in my letter, this is Hermes, our mines structural engineer.”

Waltraud looked him over, running a hand through his beard which wrapped back around his neck. Then he broke into a wide grin, throwing his arms out again to wrap them both in a hug.

“Excellent! A friend of Gismo, and one with such a large head, is certainly a friend of mine. Come, let me introduce you to our team!”

He dropped them and spun on his heel, marching towards the mine. The two visitors took a moment to catch their breath, Hermes self consciously rubbing his head.

“Well, at least he’s enthusiastic?”

Gizmo laughed, “Perhaps I should have mentioned his… eccentricities.”

As they caught up, the darkness in the mine entrance gave way to a string of lights illuminating a few shacks, which held paperwork like maps and timesheets, as well as a small rest area for workers. Waltraud was shouting down a shaft, trying to gather up his employees.

Eventually, a crew of five was lined up beside the Mayor. 

“This is who you called to help with the mines? Neither of ‘em look like they could lift a tyre. Not worth it.”

Waltraud put an elbow into the stout, bespeckled man, “Hilde here is our mine manager. If not for his keen eye on value, our town would not be as well off as it is.”

He pointed to a younger woman with a rat's nest of black hair, “Gisa’s on equipment maintenance and repairs.”

She stepped forward, eagerly putting out a hand.

“Ignore my old man, he’s got nothing but zlotti on the brain. Thank you so much for visiting and I’m really looking forward to hearing your suggestions!”

Gizmo shook the offered hand, but Hilde quickly pulled Gisa away, shooting a glare. Waltaurd cleared his throat to bring attention back.

“Rudi and Valentina you might remember, been part of these mines since day one.” The pair each had enough dirt filled wrinkles to prove it, leaving their features only definable as dirty and tall, and dirty and short. Not enough to jog any memories. 

“And Gottlob had his day one not that long ago.” 

Looking only a bit older than Gisa, with thin blond hair, the man didn’t even look up, instead continuing to fiddle with the hem of his coat. 

“And that makes the main lot! Anyone else gets called in when we hit a good vien. We actually pulled quite the haul just the other day, all in processing now.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all. As you may have heard already, I’m Gizmo, and I manage the civil services of Kuvaq. My friend here Hermes is an engineer who manages the structural aspects of our mines. Together we hope to provide some advice on improving the safety and viability of long term Junk mines.”

Gisa nodded enthusiastically, while the rest stood impassively. 

“Let us start with a tour then! Leave your bags here, Gott will watch over them. Rudi, Val, lead the way.”

They dropped their belongings at the rest area, and Hermes helped himself to a clipboard and pen so he could take notes from the get go. Following the locals deeper, he began to assess the staff.

They weren't quite dressed for the job, looking to be whatever they’d usually wear, and only Hilde and Gisa were wearing helmets. They had to ask to be provided ones themselves, and even then no one else donned one. He made note to ask about their training and work hours later.

The further they went, the more his list grew.

Load bearing beams, cave wall angles, material make up, air quality and ventilation, moisture build up, slope stability, rock falls, susceptibility to seismic activity. Mitigations were there, but they weren’t up to a standard Hermes would consider ‘safe’.

“Is… is that an eagle?”

Waltraud grinned, stroking the bird, “Ran out of canaries when checking for poison gases. Personally, I think this is much better solution.” 

Gizmo shrugged at the look Hermes gave him.

“At least they have something? I mean Hanek has a parrot.”

“And what exactly is this?” He gestured to a large welded metal contraption.

“It’s a digger!” Gisa appeared from atop of it, waving a wrench and shining her head torch down, “Makes the new tunnels.” 

Gizmo circled it, looking over the exposed treads and chipped drill bit, “Homemade?”

“Local tinkers’ make them outa the finest scrap, and I keep ‘em running. I know how to fix just about everything down here.” 

Hermes' eyes lingered on the exposed wiring and stress cracks, “Isn’t Hilde concerned about you working down here by yourself?”

“Eh, I mean he’s not my actual dad, he just took me in and gave me work. B-but he does care! He said I’m safest around the machines cause if something happens I’ll be protected under them.”

He frowned, but Gisa just offered another smile as she clambered back into the belly of the machine. 

They looped around a few more shafts, checked their equipment, then returned for a quick quizzing on their safety and emergency procedures. As the day had worn on, Hermes had been unable to keep his concern off his face, which was clearly rubbing Hilde the wrong way. Thankfully, the group withheld any reservations as Gizmo ran through the assessed points. Waltraud made a few bad taste jokes about their past safety record, but overall they seemed to have listened by the time they called it a day.

“They’ve got a good foundation.”

Hermes crossed his arms, “That won’t save them from human error or complacency.”

“Which is why we were here to encourage good behaviours. When they see how better things are when they’re operating safely, they’ll strive to share their knowledge with others as well.”

The lines on his face creased further, “But people have to be willing to change. When choosing between the easy or comfortable, compared to the longer or more complicated, safe choice-”

A hand pressed against his arm.

“How about we get dinner?”

He was changing the subject, but looking him in the eye showed understanding, and a good heaping of hope. Hermes sighed, but a smile betrayed him. 

“I suppose it is getting late. Should we ask for recommendations?”

A nearby resident happily told how many left and right turns it would take to reach a favoured restaurant, buried amongst houses, but on a rise enough that by the time they arrived and were seated, they had a lovely view of the sunset. 

The server took their order, just as a large rat in a funny hat wandered onto a stage, and began to play a jaunty tune on a miniature guitar. 

“How quaint.”

“I didn’t realise they were trainable. That could be useful.”

“Thinking they could sniff out people in a junk collapse?”

Hermes had to laugh at Gizmo’s caught-out look. The conversation continued into the viability of different local wildlife in different emergency situations (“Platypi would be the most versatile.” “Have you seen a trained one before? … Exactly.” ) until dinner made it to their table. They each enjoyed their fare to the haphazard strumming of the animal performer. 

“I wonder if the boys have been behaving…”

“That better not be your faith wavering.”

“Can you blame me?”

Gizmo rested a hand atop of Hermes’ own. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. Raising three young boys as a single parent would be a challenge for anyone, but you’ve been doing your best to give them a good start in life.”

“I’ve only been trying to make up for… past mistakes.” He gazed out the window briefly, but returned his view to Gizmo’s face with a smile, “But I certainly wouldn’t have made it this far without your support.”

“It takes a village to raise a child as they say.”

“It certainly seems that way.”

They chatted on as dinner was finished off, the bill was wrapped up, and they eventually stepped out under the blanket of night. The two men only got a little lost in their search for their accommodation, since it was one of the newer built houses from the town's expansion. The miners had courteously dropped their bags off, letting them prepare for bed, and rest up for their return trip tomorrow. 

—---------

Rising early was no trouble for the men, both wanting to get their goodbyes in before restarting their journey home. However the moment they were outside, they found an uneasy tension in the air. No one else had left their homes, most curtains drawn tight, and silence hung heavy around them. It took a bit of back and forth to escape the alley labyrinth and get back to the main road, but as they reached the open road, Gizmo held out an arm and pushed them back into the shadows.

Footsteps, a collection of them marching up the central road, which came into view as a squad of Organon soldiers. 

Gizmo felt Hermes go tense beside him. 

It wasn’t an uncommon reaction, with many Deponians fearing the armed forces that started mysteriously invading their daily lives. According to gossip, Seagull had previously made an agreement with them, which was why Kuvaq was very rarely visited, but the last time they had, Hermes seemed more than just fearful. He’d gathered his boys and locked themselves in their home, but just before he’d looked at him with such gravity and said ‘If asked, we don’t exist.’  

His past was nothing but speculation, but there felt to be a connection.

The group marched with purpose, following the road up into the darkness of the mine. Once they were out of sight, they carefully crept towards the mine entrance. There were several voices within, Gisa being the loudest.

“Gott you vermin!”

There was a tremble in her voice. The reply she got was monotone.

“Trading our recent excavation will result in profits that would easily allow us to employ two mechanically trained people to fix everything… or yaknow, we could save more by getting children to work.”

“You can’t be serious! Hilde, tell him he’s got a head of marbles!”

“...”

“HILDE!?”

Gizmo crept closer, putting his eyes on the distressed girl facing down not just the Organon, but her co-workers as well. Rudi and Valentina busied themselves in the background, while her parental figure poured over some papers.

“Gottlob’s numbers work out. The level of taxation is too high for us to make anything back from trading what would remain. Organon, will you accept the offer?”

One scratched at their helmet, “Hmm, uhhh.”

They mumbled amongst themselves. Waltaurd stood stone-faced, holding Gisa’s arm as she squirmed. When they returned to formation, the one at the front nodded.

“Um, sure. A person instead of tax. That works.”

Another soldier moved to take hold of Gisa, and Gizmo twitched as he went to leap forward. A hand landed on his shoulder before he could muster the movement though, and Hermes' determined look made him ease back.

“I’ve got a plan. We should approach when they’re leaving.”

He hesitated only for the briefest moment, “Okay.”

They backed off, heading back down the road, then just outside of town where a few trash piles gave cover on the side of the trail. There, they laid in wait until the procession came marching along, prisoner in tow. 

“So what’s your plan?”

“Wait here.”

Gizmo’s heart skipped a beat when Hermes simply stood up, and walked out behind the group. The two at the back noticed first, swinging their guns from the girls back to the new threat.

“Fifty-Two.”

The group came to a halt, Gisa looking instantly relieved that someone else was here. The Organon leading the march turned, then reeled slightly in surprise.

“H-Hermes!”

“What are you doing? This isn’t your usual squad. I’m seeing here… Seventies, Eighties… a Thirty?”

Their guns had dropped now, the soldiers suddenly looking a little sheepish, Gisa boggling in confusion. Fifty-Two scratched at his helmet.

“Sir, uh… It’s been a while… We haven’t been doing so great, sir.”

Hermes offered a reassuring smile, coming closer to them with open palms. 

“What’s happening that would make you take innocent people in trade?”

The others began pitching in, losing any formality, “The Prime Controller is working us to the bone Sir!”

“Literally. With all this complex work, we’re losing men faster than they can be replaced.”

“I picked leg work over factory work, it's that bad!”

“But Deponian’s are said to be good at making things work, so they can be brought in for work.” The one holding Gisa wiggled her arms, to which she kicked him in the shin, “OW!”

“I’ve heard the Prime Authority curse your name more than once. I know a lot of new words now.” 

Hermes kneaded at his brow, “Ulysses, what are you doing...” 

The Organon conversed between themselves, mostly venting on all the work they were doing. Gisa had relaxed by now, frowning as she listened to their complaints. 

“Listen, you should let the girl go.”

There was a hiss of a sharp inhale through their helmets. 

“And go back empty handed?”

He made a placating gesture, then pointed over the hill, “Further down the coast, there's a site of a large old world complex, look for the low rise hills. Last I knew it was relatively untouched, and should have enough for you to scavenge to take back both for repairs, and resupplying.”

They murmured again, obviously off-put by the prospect of work. After a minute or so, Gisa found her arms free of their hold. 

“Okay.” Fifty-Two saluted, “It’s better advice than what Prime Authority is spewing.”

Each soldier saluted, then returned to formation, and continued their march without the prisoner. Gisa shuffled closer to Hermes, but watched the group go with curiosity. 

“Apologies for your treatment, they shouldn’t be doing things like that.”

“Right…”

“Oh, a-and if you don’t mind keeping this between us? I’d rather not jeopardise the relations between Unsicher and Kuvaq.”

She rubbed at her wrists, “I won’t tell. I mean, I’m not going back to a bunch of dummies who think I’m worth less than junk.”

“That’s… understandable.”

She shuffled on the spot, still watching the Organon.

“Though… how about-” She stepped forward, “As thanks, I’ll show them the way to the place you mentioned? And they can keep me safe until the next town on the way.”

Hermes gave a surprised smile, “I think they’d be fine with that. Thank you.”

With a more confident smile, Gisa jogged ahead to catch up to the group. After a moment of talking, she turned to wave back, one of the Organon copying her. As Hermes returned the gesture, he felt Gizmo move up beside him.

“What the hell was that?!”

The anger was clear in his voice, along with confusion and maybe a bit of concern. 

“It was…well…”

“That was reckless! Dangerous! How did you know-” He put a hand over his mouth in thought, “You knew them.”

“...Yes.”

“You know the Organon.”

“Yes.”

Gizmo stared at him, hard and long. The question was there, but it looked like he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. He didn’t want to speculate or make accusations, but he also knew the limits of privacy. He knew he was keeping his past in the past, and was just trying to act in the now.

But they were friends. They trusted each other. So Hermes opened up.

“I did work for the military, with the Organon. For some time, I…” He watched the spot where the group had gone over a ridge, “I was caught up in the grand ideas of the future. And I did many things I now regret. But then, when the boys came into my life, I could no longer justify all those plans in my mind. So I left, took them with me. And I’ve been trying to think of a way to fix all my past mistakes since.”

He dared to look over to Gizmo, who thankfully no longer looked angry. Instead he regarded him with a steady stare, like he was assessing the facts at a crime scene. The longer it held, the more Hermes felt the guilty verdict hanging above him, but on hearing the serviceman exhale in that familiar ‘not this again’ way, some of that anxiety lightened.

“Fix all your mistakes? That’s a big responsibility.”

“I’m not sure it’d be enough to atone for what I've done-”

“Oh Tetanus don’t give me that again. You always seem to think the world's problems are your own.”

“But it’s-”

“What’s done is done. What’s in the past is in the past.” Even that small smile was so warm, “You should focus on your future.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“I sure am. And the immediate future is how we’re going to say goodbye to Waltraud without punching him, then finding out whatever your children have done while we were away.”

“Hey, you were the one saying I should have faith in them.”

“...but?”

“...I would like to get home as soon as possible.”

[jinterlude]

My Best Friend

↳ Header is made by yours truly, and the photo used can be found here.

—Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Female OC) —Genre(s): Romance, Fluff, & Crack/Humor —AUs/Tropes: Childhood Friends, F2L, Non-Idol! —Warning(s)/Rating: Swearing, mentions of jealousy, mentions of sex (JK lost his virginity in high school uwu) / PG-15 —Word Count: 1,416 —Summary: After listening to your favorite song as you and Jungkook continue on your merry way to an unknown destination, you decide to confess your hidden feelings for your best friend. Talk about a random moment of motivation.

—A/N: Good morning peeps! I am here with another drink request! This drink was ordered by @dreamingofkoo​​ aka Calzone, and she wanted Jungkook + Wine! I hope it’s romantic enough for you, and thank you for stirring up dormant JK feelings! As always, feedback (constructive and/or positive) is always welcome!

Also, this is written for @bangtan-dreamland​‘s Drinks + Drabbles game! Thank you Eris and BHQ for creating this fun net game!

“Okay, next question, if you won the lotto, what would you do with the money?” asks Jungkook, turning his head slightly to get a better look at you. Though his lingering gaze doesn’t last long as he is an excellent driver, he keeps his undivided attention on the empty highway. 

You hum in response, opening up a snack-size bag of your favorite chips. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips as you inhale the savory scent of the chips. Also, it doesn’t help that you and Jungkook have yet to stop for lunch, so you’re practically starving. 

You insert a few fingers inside the bag, grabbing a few before popping a few chips in your mouth. 

Sounds of loud crunches mingle with the lyrics exiting the car speakers as you begin to sway your body. You start bopping your head to a catchy tune before answering Jungkook’s question. 

“Well, if I won the lottery, I would use some of it to pay off my student loan debt,” You grab a few more chips and quickly eat them, “Then, I will set aside a set amount and give it to my parents and younger sibling. Maybe, my older sister too since she’s reaching for the stars and going for her Ph.D. What a smart duck, she is. Afterward, I’ll put the rest in a saving account and only use it for like maybe my wedding or something.” You answer finding yourself smiling as you think about your wedding—with Jeon Jungkook. 

You can feel this small warm sensation creeping on your cheeks the more you think about it. 

However, those thoughts need to disappear quickly. This is your best friend since childhood for crying out loud. You’ve been there for every milestone in his life and vice versa.

Not for when he lost his virginity during your senior year...to some bimbo...at freaking prom...

Talk about the most cliché thing to ever happen. 

Crumbling the bag of chips, you carelessly toss behind you, allowing the frustrations seep into your body. Even though you have no right to feel any form of jealousy. 

Jungkook is just your best friend. Nothing more and nothing less, and he feels the same way—right? 

“So, what is your favorite song to jam out in the car?” inquires Jungkook, his thumb scrolling through his endless list of songs on his phone. 

You arch your brow. The corners of your mouth turn upwards as your frustration evaporates into thin air. You playfully shake your head, finding a tad amusing how easy your best friend can easily tame the angry tiger that is your temper. 

How does Jungkook quickly soothe any negative emotions away? 

With an amused grin, you shift in your seat, turning your body towards Jungkook and say, 

“Come Get Her by Rae Sremmurd, and I know that you have that song Kookie.” 

Jungkook snorts, ignoring your comment and scrolling back up his playlist until he finds the song in question. 

You cheer as you hear a familiar tune and roll down your window. The wind blowing your hair in all directions, but you don’t care. You just feel free. 

“Somebody come get her! Jungkook’s dancing like a stripper!” You sing horribly, teasing him in the process. You giggle at your own joke as you stick your hand out the window, moving it in a waving motion. You allow your hand to ride the wind current, which brings you back to the endless road trips you’ve gone on with either your parents or Jungkook back in high school. 

You just feel free at this moment with your best friend. No worries plague your mind, and you don’t know what possesses you to do this. Still, you use the song as a motivator to confess your innermost feelings to Jungkook. 

God, help you.

Breaking away from your thoughts, you tune in to Jungkook singing, 

“Somebody come get her, Seokjin has stolen my dinner. Somebody come tip her, Jimin is secretly my long lost sister.”

You nearly choke, breaking out into a fit of laughter. Your laughs cause Jungkook to laugh as well. Then, like two peas in a pod, both your sides start hurting. 

Only the two of you can get each other into this humorous state. No other person is capable of doing so, and this solidifies your immediate plan to confess. 

Whether he returns your feelings or not, you just know that you want Jungkook to be in your life no matter what. 

You guys have twenty years worth of friendship. One measly rejection will not change that. Sure, it will hurt like a bitch, but you will get over it. After all, you have gone through many heartbreaks before realizing that Jungkook is your other half. 

So, this will be no different…

Taking a deep breath, you slowly exhale through your nostrils. It’s now or never. 

Raising your arm, you lightly tap Jungkook’s shoulder. 

Jungkook hums in response as he rests his left cheek against his hand, driving with his right hand. 

“Um. I…” You stop as the butterflies in the pit stomach go into a frenzy. Your cheeks become rosy while your heart drums against your chest. You take a few breathes, hoping your little breathing exercises will help as you quickly give yourself a pep talk.

“Actually, I need to say something. If I don’t do it now, while I surprisingly have control over my feelings, I won’t do it later tonight.” Jungkook pipes up, interrupting your little hype talk. 

A look of confusion washes over your face, but you can’t ask his random statement. 

“I know we call each other soul friends and other dumb shit along those lines, but I don’t want to be just your best friend. Not anymore.” He says in a deep, serious tone that sends shivers down your spine. 

“W-what are you saying, Kook? You don’t want to be my friend anymore?” You ask, fumbling over some of your words as your chest slightly tightens. 

Jungkook instantly becomes alert. His eyes widen as a string of curse words leave his lips. Without a second thought, he turns on his hazard lights and pulls over on the side of the road. 

Luckily, the sun has yet to fully retire for the day, so Jungkook doesn’t have to worry about cars stopping and strangers asking if they need help. 

If he’s going to confess to you, he needs to do while the two of you are still alone. 

Gently talking your hands into his, Jungkook’s thumbs softly caress the back of your hand while love and admiration burn in his eyes. 

“Okay, before you freak out, even more, I need you to listen to what I have to say. Then, you can go all drama queen on afterward. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

“Great,” Jungkook says with a smile, taking a few deep breaths as the nerves finally settle in his body. “Okay, when I meant by the fact that I don’t just want to be your friend, I mean it as that I want to be your boyfriend. I want to be your soulmate rather than a soul friend.” He confesses as his eyes stare into your soul while you bravely return his gaze.

You note the tones of adoration and love in his gaze. You also notice how easily you can get lost in his eyes. His eyes look like they can hold the entire galaxy in them, and you can spend hours just staring at them. 

“Now, it would be an amazing time to say something. Anything.” 

“I accept.” 

A look of confusion washes over Jungkook’s face as his stare flickers away from your eyes briefly before returning. Then, it hits him. 

Without a second thought, he cups your face and pulls you in for the most passionate kiss. 

“You serious?” asks Jungkook as he pulls away, revealing a bright smile. 

You nod, “Of course. I would love more than anything to be your girlfriend.” 

“YES!” He shouts, expressing how ecstatic he is with every inch of his body. 

You chuckle at how cute your boyfriend is as he starts up the car and pulls out of the emergency lane. 

“I can’t believe I have a girlfriend. Like, you’re my girlfriend. Like what?”

“I know! It’s fucking amazing! I mean, I was gonna confess to you first, but never in a million years did I think you were gonna do it first.” 

“Wait...you were gonna confess to me first? Damn it! Taehyung was right!”

My Best Friend is copyright 2020 by jinterlude, all rights reserved.

[blissfulalchemist]

Don’t know how but this came in as a submission Stella way back when. Either way it is finished after so long!

“is that blood?”, “yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “you are literally bleeding.” + red brooks bros

It was always a good thing to get out of the house, especially to a place that felt like some kind of home. The tension at the ranch was starting to become too much and Cat just needed a little air to breathe. She was still attempting to wrap her mind around the idea that Raf didn’t hate her or find her completely out of her mind for her stunt a few weeks ago. The alcohol took the fall for that kiss which was fine with her so long as she didn’t have to be reminded of that moment for the rest of her life. Not that Lance was helping any as the two took a break at his temporary house, Cat lying against the couch letting her mind wander as Terminator 2 played. 

“Think I should start making some kind of dinner for us?” Cat asked hand feeling the kernels of the now empty bowl of popcorn. 

“Was under the impression we were doing pizza,” Lance said, eyes never leaving the television, “Thought your boyfriend Rafael was bringing some?”

Cat rolled her eyes, Kill me, “Yeah when he was planning on coming over,” she sat up, setting the bowl on the coffee table, “he canceled, remember.”

Lance took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand, a smile playing on his lips, “Not good boyfriend material if he cancels like that.”

“Would you stop with that?”

“Just looking out for you is all,” Lance laughed as a throw pillow came for his face, “That boy may think he’s perfection but-.”

“He’s still human and therefore impossible to be perfect,” Cat finished, tone laced with mockery. “I know that,” she scoffed, “but that stuff would only really matter if he was interested in me. He’s fine with our relationship as is so therefore I am too.”

Lance laughed, spitting up a little of his drink, “And I’m set to win the lotto.” Cat narrowed her eyes, mouth ready to argue when the sound of a bike overtook the sounds of gunfire from the movie. Lance let out a sigh, “I sure hope that kid slowed down to park in the garage this time.”

“Wes? Slowing down?” Cat smiled, “The day he does you better buy a lotto ticket.” 

She opened the front door, hearing the clattering of a shelf falling, “How in the hell does he manage to hit the same damn shelf every time?”

Cat looked up at Lance, raising a brow, “Maybe you should move it Old Man.”

“I have,” he let out a breath, “Come on let’s go get him.” The two walked into the garage, watching as Wes pulled off the helmet, shaking out his hair, “I thought you were a pro on that thing?”

“I am,” Wes answered looking at the fallen shelf and its contents, “It jumped out at me.”

“Uh-huh, sure Wes,” Cat laughed, eyes assessing him, widening in horror, “Oh my god!”

The two men looked up at her change in pitch, “What?”

“Wes-. You-. How-. Wes- You’re-.” He lifted an arm looking down his body, meeting her eyes as he pointed to the dark stain on his shirt, “Are you? Is that blood?!” 

He gave a shrug, Lance moving to take a closer look, “Probably.”

“Probably. Wes! You are literally bleeding!”

Lance gave a small shake of his head, “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is-.”

“Is I took down that big ol’ YES sign,” Wes finished triumphantly.

Cat’s shoulders sagged, “Let me guess you’re homemade explosives?” Wes nodded, Lance pushing him towards the house. “Wes,” she glanced up to the mountain watching as the black smoke rose, heart falling as she placed a smile on her face, “Good job taking that eyesore down.” It's not that she didn’t want to see that Hollywood wannabe gone but it did mean John would be in an even more sour mood. Never a danger to herself, but it didn’t make for very pleasant conversation either given her friendships. 

If Wes noticed anything a miss with her, he didn’t get much of a chance to voice it, “What I was going to say was that we need more of an actual dinner,” Lance continued, ushering his two children inside.

“You want to go and get pizza,” Cat asked.

“I’m going to get pizza while you clean him up,” Lance picked up his canvas jacket and car keys gesturing to Wes, “Now before you say anything you can stitch him up just fine. I’ve shown you how and seen you do it.” 

“But-.”

“If you mess up I’ll just open them and do it myself,” Lance lowered his voice, eyes watching as Wes took out the first aid kit, laying the towel out on the couch, “‘Sides I think you should talk to him. He’s holding something in and he ain’t going to talk to me about it.”

Cat exhaled through her nose, nodding, shutting the door behind Lance, gathering a bowl of warm water and some rags. “You think it's a good or bad thing that you know exactly what to do when you come over after your injuries?” Cat joked, sitting next to Wes on the couch tossing the dirtied shirt to the side.

“Depends on who you ask really,” Wes paused the movie before he moved, giving Cat a better look at the wound. It wasn’t as deep as the amount of blood would indicate but still was a few inches long moving along his right ribs. Cat set the bowl in his lap, gentle in her movements as she cleaned the blood away, “Might be some shrapnel still.”

“I’ll pick out what I can,” he flinched, letting out a yelp, making Cat jump. Wes laughed, “Don’t do that,” she chastised, lightly hitting his arm, “You know you’re just gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

“You were being too serious,” Cat picked up the tweezers spotting the small glimmer of metal.

“Cause I’m concentrating,” Cat pulled back grabbing the bottle of alcohol, “This is gonna sting.” Wes sat still as she brought the soaked cloth to the open wound, “I’m still not one hundred percent used to this kind of first aid.”

“Here I thought you were certified.”

“Yeah for the basics,” she snorted, “Other than that it had to be left to the real medical staff.” She gave a small smile, “Only thing I can really claim competency in is healing the mind.” Wes grew silent, turning his head away from her as she gathered the needle and thread, Cat’s smile fading, “You know you don’t have to keep it all in. Suffering alone isn’t a good thing.”

“You let Raf do it,” he countered, lifting his arm to rest on the back of the sofa.

“Don’t think I wouldn’t or won’t get on his case too,” she winced as the needle pierced his skin, pausing to take in Wes. He stayed still through it, calming the shaking wanting to start in her hands, “And if we’re being honest I let you get away with a lot more than him.” He gave a smirk, “So the YES sign,” the smirk evaporating quickly, “You and John still-.”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, “I’m not talking about that.”

So much for Lance’s belief, Cat nodded, “Okay. We don’t have too.” Silence fell as she worked on the stitches, slower than was necessary, but she didn’t want to make a mistake forcing Wes to have to go through the process again. She was nearing the last two needed when Wes shifted, “Careful, I don’t want to hurt you on accident.”

“You ever think about us?”

“Like what we’ll do after this whole thing is over,” she gave pause, pursing her lips, “Or do you mean that night?” Cat glanced up at his face, unreadable, “Because I thought we were never going to talk about it.”

“Guess it does play into it,” he mused, “But no. I mean us as in you and me. Together.”

Oh, Cat concentrated on the last stitch picking her words carefully, “Why does that matter to you all of a sudden? Did it get real bad with John this time?”

“Humor me,” he answered, ignoring her question.

Cat let out a sigh, wiping at the now closed wound, “Guess I’d be lying if I said it never crossed my mind.”

“Had ample opportunity to act on it,” he tilted his head, eyes following as she put everything away.

“I said it crossed my mind,” she gave a smirk, “not that it was anything more serious than that.” Cat got up from the sofa quickly hiding the small blush that was coming to her cheeks, grabbing a new shirt for Wes, tossing it his way, “I don’t think we’d work out in the long run in a romantic way.”

He pulled the shirt on, careful of the stitches on his ribs, “What makes you say that?” 

His face took on a hurt expression, hands looking for something to mess with, shoulders slumped over. Her face softened, lightly touching his shoulder as she sat next to him, “I say that because you deserve better than me.” The corners of Cat’s lips turned upward into a quick smile as she watched his mouth start to open in protest, “Let me explain what I mean before you start trying to correct me.”

His golden eyes glanced her way before giving a quick nod, Cat settled herself more going over her thought process. “Don’t get me wrong Wes, we’d be happy, on top of the world, and so in love that people would get cavities just being in proximity,” she grabbed his hand, “But that love isn’t sustainable, not for either of us. When you love someone like that, you have to feel like there’s a balance in all aspects.” 

“I feel like you do sometimes,” Wes said softly.

“And there it is, sometimes. Wes it has to be all the time. You and I don't have balance where it’s most important.” Cat paused, “We both are very giving in nature and in turn will take whatever is given back to us because we need to feel some kind of connection. We would have too much of that and we need people that will tell us when to stop.” She turned his face towards hers, “Wes I can’t ever really say no to you and that’s not what you need in a long term partner. Sure from a friend it's okay but not when it comes to life long commitment. Does that make sense?”

Wes gave a shrug, “A little.”

“In essence you need someone that will challenge you, make you see life a little differently so you can grow into it the way you were meant to. I’m more of a support while you figure that out, I can try but I know I won’t be the best at it, not in the way that you need.” Cat looked down to his hand in hers, continuing, “I’m also not someone you deserve because there are some things about you that I could never fully and truly understand. I can empathize with so many things Wes, but there are some life experiences that I can only sympathize with and you need and deserve someone that can.”

“Someone like, John,” Cat nodded, “It doesn’t feel the same with him, not like how you love me.”

“No two loves are going to feel the same, Wes,” she countered, “I love both you, Raf, and Lance the same amount and I’ll tell you now each one feels different. Lance is protective, stable, and parental like my own dad. That feeling of being noticed when you’re lost from your parents at a busy mall, you trust them because they have kind eyes and stay until your parents come back for you. Raf is structure, helpful, and,” All consuming, “consistent. Like testing to see if a video game has fall damage and then the relief when you find out that it doesn’t because you now know the parachute is going to open each time just before you hit the ground. It also feels like light that someone left behind just for you.”

“You though,” Cat looked up into his eyes, “that love feels soft, warm, hopeful, and like peace, our own little treehouse overlooking the field behind a house. It's hard to describe just right but it's something you come back to because there's a sense of safety in it that can only come from that one place. That’s what it feels like for me to love you.” She smiled, “I bet if you really look at all the people that you love and care for you’ll find that each one feels different in some way and that’s okay. That’s kind of how it's supposed to be.”

“How do you know which one’s the right one?” Wes looked at her expectantly as Cat searched for the feelings that had her marrying Theo. Searching for the right word that would convey the unique feeling into something that could resonate with Wes. Some way that would be easy to understand and simplify the complexity.

“You’ll feel….some kind of….whole.” 

“Whole,” he repeated.

“Yeah, whole,” she smiled as his face showed signs of disbelief and confusion, “Every person that you love and loves you in return contributes to this puzzle that is you, but there will be spaces open for that one person that will complete the whole thing. That can be yourself, a friend, or a romantic partner. Once they’re there, you won’t really feel like there are any open spaces left, you’ll feel whole.”

“You think people can find it again if they lose it?” Wes asked eyes flicking down for a millisecond to the leather bracelet Cat moved to cover up on instinct at the question. 

Her fingers playing with the metal circle, “I want to believe so. That answer though is up to you at that point.”

Wes let out a huff sitting back in the chair, eyes turned upward at the ceiling, “Not really meant to be simple is it,” Cat stayed silent, watching him, “This is why feelings are the worst.”

“Well we have them and we can’t really put them back,” Cat laughed, “Just give it some time Wes. You’ll figure it all out in the end, just have to remember to not run away this time.”

“Nah, couldn’t do that to you Catnip,” he turned smirking, “Pretty sure you’d follow me and drag me back.”

She shook her head, “Not what I meant, Wes. You’re right, but not what I meant.” Wes waved her words off, Cat exhaling slowly, “Well I think that’s enough therapy for the night.” Cat stood moving to the table holding stacks of tapes and dvds, “Music or movie while we wait for dinner?”

“Movie? You pick though.”

“Your suffering Brooks,” Cat mumbled, looking through settling on The Goonies. “Here this one shouldn’t be so bad.”

He glanced at the summary on the back of the case, “A bunch of kids go treasure hunting?”

“Yeah,” she answered, loading the movie, “So many quotable parts about that movie! Trust me you’ll have a good time.” Wes shook his head settling into the couch more as Cat took her place laying her head in his lap. His fingers started to run through her hair as the car chase began in the movie, “Wes, you may forget your worth and what you deserve, but I never will,” she looked up to his face, “So I’ll remind you until it sticks in that big brain of yours.”

[bellakitse]

The Marriage Tamales

Answering a call, TK and 126 meet Carlota Reyes, Carlos' mother, and his three sisters. While there, TK learns some very important information about his and Carlos' relationship.

* “You made this pretty little gringo, our mother’s marriage tamales?” Lola looks at him amazed.

Valentina smirks at him, the only way the oldest can. “When’s the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Sofiá repeats, scoffing. “Where’s their kid? Obviously, he already married this white boy if he made him mama's marriage tamales."

Carlos gets the text from his older sister just as he’s leaving the station for the day; he lets out a groan before he reads it, remembering as he sees her name that he’s supposed to go to their mother’s house for dinner. His workday has been a long one, and it’s completely slipped his mind. Valentina was probably texting to know when he would be getting there, since his mother doesn’t like to serve unless all her four children are at the table on family night.

He opens his messages, ready to shoot a quick text that he’s on his way when he reads what exactly she’s sent him.

‘The fire department is here, Mami almost burned the house down, get here now.’

Carlos feels the blood in his body go to his toes as he rereads the text before letting out a curse. He rushes to get into his squad car, turning on the light bar and the sirens as he goes. He tries not to speed, the last thing he needs is another lecture from his mom about it, between the squad car and his Camero, his mother is always giving him the stink-eye, and lecturing him about being a speed demon who is giving her grey hairs with his driving.

Carlota Reyes knows how to turn on the mom guilt like a pro when she needs to.

He gets to the simple ranch house his mother moved them into when he was a teenager to find a fire truck, EMS, and his sisters’ vehicles all in front of it. He’s barely turned his car off before he’s already out the door. Seeing the badge on the truck, he spots the engine number and instantly realizes that it’s the recently rebuilt fire engine 126 that has been called to his mother’s house. He’s worked a few calls with the new crew in the last few months since the firehouse opened their doors again, he likes them, and Michelle who works with them as EMS Captain seems to have good things to say about them too.

He relaxes slightly now that he knows it’s them who answered the call, it also helps that the house seems to be fine except for the emergency vehicles gathered around, and a few EMTs by their rig. No one makes a move to stop him as he makes his way up the stone pathway to the front door. Be it because he’s still in uniform, or because his face says ‘get the fuck out of my way,’ he’s not sure.

“Mami?” he calls out as he walks into the house, the smell of smoke hitting him the second he’s through the door. “Valentina?” he shouts next as he enters the living room, stopping short at what he finds inside the family room.

His oldest sister Valentina is there alright, as are his other two sisters Sofía and Lola, and they aren’t alone. Members of the 126, Mateo, and Marjan are sitting on the couch with them, while Judd and Paul stand behind it, all drinking what looks to be horchata like it’s a party.

“What the hell?” he gets out, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Hey, bro!” Lola speaks up first, flashing him a shit-eating grin as she raises a glass to him as a toast. Lola is the one he’s closest to age-wise, with her being only two years older than him, as opposed to Sofía, who is five years older or Valentina, who at 34 is eight years older. “Finally, you’re late.”

“Seriously, what the fuck,” he repeats himself, looking away from his troublemaking sister to the more responsible ones. “I get a text saying Mami almost burned the house down, and I come to find you guys drinking horchata with the 126?”

“And chicken empanadas,” Captain Strand adds in from where he’s sitting next to Valentina, a smile on his face as he bites into the empanada, letting out a joyful sound. He’s not surprised, his mom’s empanadas are delicious, but that’s beside the point.

“I’m going to ask one more time, and I expect an answer,” Carlos tells them all sternly, placing his hands on his gun belt. “What the fuck is happening here, and is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine, Carlitos, which is more than I can say for you if you curse in my house one more time, Nene.”

Carlos spins on his heel to find his mother over by the archway mimicking his pose by having her hands on her hips.

“Mami,” he exhales, he crosses the distance between them and pulls her small frame against his, holding her tight. He feels her chuckle softly as she rests her head on his chest, hugging him back. The top of her head barely grazes his chin, and he leans down to accommodate her. “Are you okay? Valentina said there was a fire.”

Carlota Reyes pulls back from the hug, throwing a glare over his shoulder, no doubt at his older sister. “Your sister is melodramatic, Tu sabes como es.”

“I’m sorry, did you or did you not start a fire in the kitchen?” Valentina asks the room at large, getting an echo of agreement from his other two sisters, though the 126 seem to be smarter by keeping their mouths shut when Carlota shoots them all another look.

“Mami?” he questions her, giving her his cop face in hopes that she’ll cave and tell him the truth. Rolling her eyes at him, she turns to the man beside her, and for the first time, Carlos notices who it is. He can feel his face go hot as he looks at him.

TK Strand.

He shouldn’t be surprised he’s here; he should have realized that TK would probably be responding to the call the moment he saw the 126 truck, he definitely should have anticipated it after seeing TK’s dad.

“Hey, TK,” he gets out, his face goes redder still at the way his voice cracks, but he can’t help it. He and TK have been messing around, keeping it strictly friends with benefits since his failed dinner attempt and then their darts date. They hang out; they’re friends, they have sex – really good, out of this world, mind-melting sex – and now TK is standing next to his mother, while he has to get through this without her figuring out all the dirty things he’s been doing with the guy she’s smiling up at so sweetly.

“Hey, Carlos,” TK smiles at him as he tries not to react too much. There is a way that TK sometimes looks at him, that makes Carlos forget that the guy is not his boyfriend, it always makes him want to press him into the nears wall and lick his way into that smile.

“TK, tell my Carlitos, that everything is fine,” Carlota nudges at TK with her elbow like they’re already best friends, Lord help him. “He’s always worrying so much. You’re going to get wrinkles, Bebé.”

TK grins at him with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes that Carlos is sure is from the way his mom talks to him. It doesn’t matter that he’s 26 and a Police Officer. As the youngest of four, his mother and to an extent, his sisters have always babied the crap out of him. He’s learned to ignore it until people outside the family get a front-row seat to his embarrassment.

“The stove caught fire,” TK starts telling him, raising his hands to calm him down when Carlos makes a panicked sound. “It’s all good, we put it out and checked-out your mom and sisters,” he looks over at the couches where everyone is seated. “Everyone is fine, and there’s not much damage, though the stove will have to be replaced.”

“See, the handsome firefighter says everything is fine. You can stop worrying now, mijo,” Carlota says to him, turning back towards TK with a smile. “You’ve met my son before, TK?”

Carlos feels his skin heat up as TK looks over at him, a slow-building smile working its way to his face. “Yes, ma’am, Carlos and I know each other from work, he’s an excellent officer.”

“And handsome?” his mom questions hopefully, a sly grin on her face as she looks over at him like she knows she’s killing him with embarrassment and is okay with it.

TK lets out a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners from his grin, he leans down closer to his mother to speak in a stage-whisper. “He certainly makes some of the calls we’ve been on, way prettier.”

Carlota lights up like she has won the lotto, and Carlos instantly understands what his mother is playing at.

Carlos groans loudly, earning himself a snort from more than one of his sisters. “Oh my god, this isn’t happening,” he says, turning away from TK and his mom to find his sisters, Captain Strand and the rest of the crew watching them with entertained looks on their faces, empanadas in hand.

“What?” his mom asks innocently like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

Carlos ignores her as he takes a step back towards the couches and the food, if he’s going to be embarrassed in front of his siblings, the people he works with, and the guy he has a massive crush on; at the very least, he’s eating.

“She zeroed in on him the second she saw his eyes, kid,” Valentina tells him.

Carlos shakes his head, holding out a hand to Sofía, grateful when she passes him an empanada. “Of course she did, Mami likes green eyes.”

Valentina, Sofía, and Lola all nod in agreement, while everyone else in the room looks on curiously.

“Mom’s scoping him out for Carlos,” Lola explains because she’s a horrible, horrible sister who he is going to smother with a couch cushion. “Valentina and Sofía are married, and I’m a lost cause, so Mami is checking out if TK is available for Carlos.”

“I am not!” Carlota protests, which sets her and his sisters off, in between the snippets of conversation he learns that his mother latched on to TK since the second he walked through her door.

Turning his gaze towards the man in question, he finds TK has taken a few steps closer to him, looking at him with humor and a little shyness as his family really gets into it. The rest of the 126 looks on, riveted by the show, the Reyes women are entertaining if nothing else. Taking the plate of leftover empanadas, he passes it to TK, letting him take one.

Biting into it, TK lets out a moan that stops all conversations and makes Carlos’ pulse spike.

Jesus Christ, this man lives to wreak havoc on him.

“Oh my god, that’s delicious,” TK says happily, closing his eyes as he chews, missing the grin Carlota is sporting, pleased as punch by TK’s reaction. “No wonder you’re such a good cook, you got it from your mom.”

Carlos stares at TK and nowhere else, as the rest of the ones gathered stare holes into the both of them. TK looks back at him, and the little shit dares to smile at him like he hasn’t just unleashed mayhem with his words.

“Carlos has cooked for you?” Sofía asks, the glee in her voice proof that while she might be the quietest of them all, she still has an evil streak a mile long.

“Mmhmm,” TK says around another bite, raising his fingers to count off. “He’s made me fish, didn’t eat that time though, my fault, not his. He’s made me carbonara; that was pretty simple, but he was coming off a 16-hour shift, and it was still delicious. He also made me some tamales to die for,” TK continues, not realizing what he's done by mentioning them. Carlos cringes as his sisters look at him with unholy excitement. He turns to look over at his mom, shaking his head as he takes in the way she looks ready to cry, she’s so happy. 

“He said it was your recipe, ma’am,” TK tells his mom, flashing her a bright smile. “You taught him well. It’s the best food I have ever had, besides these empanadas, of course.”

His mom makes a squeak like noise, before slapping her hands over her mouth in what Carlos thinks is an attempt not to start squealing. As is, she looks to be vibrating with unbridled happiness.

“You made this pretty little gringo, our mother’s marriage tamales?” Lola looks at him amazed.

Valentina smirks at him, the only way the oldest can. “When’s the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Sofía repeats, scoffing. “Where’s their kid? Obviously, he already married this white boy if he made him mama's marriage tamales. You guys adopting or going with surrogacy?”

"Marriage tamales?" TK asks with a small confused smile on his face, while his sisters nod in his direction. 

"Mami taught all of us with the condition that we can only make them for someone truly special to us," Valentina tells him, as TK looks at him with wide eyes, his mouth parted in surprise. "I made them for my husband when I realized I loved him, Sofía, did the same with her husband."

"I have never made the tamales for anyone," Lola adds. "Cause like I said, a lost cause."

TK continues to look at him, shocked, and suddenly Carlos doesn't care that his family or TK’s crew is watching; all he cares about is that TK doesn't freak out, and as a result, Carlos loses him. "Tyler, I –" he starts only to stop when he hears choking happening next to Valentina.

Looking over, he finds Captain Strand staring at them. "He called you by your name."

TK snaps out of his daze and looks back at his dad, his face turning red. "Dad," TK hisses in warning, but Owen doesn't listen.

"He knows your first name, TK," Owen continues, making significant eyes at his son. "He knows it and just used it. Does he know what the K stands for too?"

TK doesn't answer, his face is a pretty shade of pink, and Owen turns his eyes to him, waiting for an answer. 

"Yes," Carlos starts, making TK’s gaze go back to him. "It's –"

TK takes two steps towards him, placing his hand over his mouth. "Don't you dare, Carlos Reyes," TK warns him gravely, but Carlos can't help but smile at how flustered TK looks. 

He tugs the hand off his face, grinning at him. "I didn't realize using your name was such a big deal," he teases him, smirking as TK gives him a scowl. "I feel special."

TK narrows his eyes at him in response. "Marriage tamales, Reyes."

Carlos loses his smirk, giving him a nod when TK raises an eyebrow at him. Fair enough. 

"So, you're dating?" Mateo asks, reminding them that the crew is still very much in the room watching this all go down like a telenovela. Marjan, Judd, and Paul all look on in interest with small smirks on all their faces.

"We're –" TK starts, looking around the room, then back at him. There is a vulnerable look in TK's pretty green eyes, and Carlos feels like an idiot. He has spent the last few weeks that they have been doing this, trying to keep it all light and easy, as not to spook TK. And while doing so, he hasn't been looking for a sign that maybe things have changed, that possibly TK might finally be ready for more.

"We're not, not dating," Carlos says for him, the words feeling really inadequate, but it's the best he can do with everyone around them right now.

They need to talk alone and give this a new definition, but for the first time, Carlos is hopeful that it will include the words relationship and together.

TK looks at him with a small smile, giving him a slight nod of his head, silently agreeing with him.

His mother, though, of course, isn't satisfied with the answer. "I'm sorry, but that is young people speak for what exactly?"

Carlos opens his mouth only for Lola to cut in.

"It means Carlitos has been hitting it with the gringo, but not putting a label on it, Mami," Lola informs her while smirking in his direction. "He's been doing a whole lot of sinning, but it also seems like he wants to bring this cutie into the family."

TK blushes again at his sister's words, while Carlos narrows his eyes at Lola who keeps looking at him completely pleased with herself.

"Lola, how's Leticia from the good market Mami likes?" Carlos questions, a victorious grin on his face as she loses her smile and glares at him. Valentina and Sofía let out amused 'oohs,' respectively.

"Lola?" Carlota questions, groaning when Lola gives her a hesitant smile. "If you break that girl's heart, her dad isn't going to sell me the good peppers anymore, and I’ll make you go across town to get me some from that fancy organic place that pisses you off,” she warns her.

The comment gets his sister, and his mother started again, his other two sisters joining the fray.

Captain Strand proving to be a good Captain who knows when to get his people out of the fire, begins signaling for them to leave. One by one, the firefighters each head for the front door, each thanking his mother for the food.

TK is the last to go, still looking at him and no one else. "We'll talk later?" he asks, his expression tentative, and Carlos can't let him leave like that. Ignoring his family, he leans down to give TK a quick kiss. He lets out a surprised sound when TK touches the back of his neck, holding him there for a moment to make the kiss last.

When they break apart, the room is completely silent, but Carlos can't hear anything but their breathing and his heart beating.

"I finish my shift in three hours," TK tells him quietly, and Carlos nods, understanding him.

"Come by after; I'll be home."

TK smiles at him before turning around; he lets out a nervous chuckle as he finds his sisters and his mother watching them. "It was nice meeting you all," TK starts, walking back towards them to get to the door. He stops in front of his mother, holding out his hand. "Ma'am it was a pleasure, thank you for the food."

Carlota smiles up at TK, taking his hand before pulling him in for a hug. TK lets out a surprised noise, whether it's from the unexpected strength his mother has, or the hug itself, Carlos isn't sure.

Letting him go, Carlota points a finger in TK's face. "I better see you again, guapo, soon."

TK looks at him, smiles, and then looks back at his mom. "I'll make sure it happens, ma'am."

 ֎֍֎

 Carlos is a mess of nervous energy as he paces back and forth in his apartment. TK texted him twenty minutes ago, asking if it was still okay for him to stop by, and now Carlos was waiting for him, every second that past putting him more on edge.

He has a feeling that the conversation they need to have is going to go his way. TK put down all the signals before he left his mom’s house, but that doesn’t stop him from being nervous. He wants this, wants TK so bad. More than he’s ever wanted anything, and knowing that there might actually be a chance he gets to have him completely sends his pulse racing.

The rest of his time at the house had been interesting. His sisters and his mother grilled him about TK to the point that he had to ask who was the cop, him, or them? They’re amazing interrogators and cracked him like an egg. In the end, he told them how he met TK, keeping some of the more salacious aspects of their relationship to himself for his mother’s sake, though given the leers his sisters gave him, they weren’t fooled at all.

Finally, though, all it boiled down to for his mom and his sisters is how he feels. His mom softly asking him, ‘Lo quieres, Carlitos?’ her warm hands holding his. Valentina playing with his hair, Lola with her head on his knee as she sat on the floor, while Sofía stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders, he couldn’t deny the truth.

The hug that came from all sides as he let out a quiet, ‘Si, mucho’ soothed him the only way his family’s love could.

He couldn’t hide it anymore. He cared about TK, given half the chance he could love him forever, and he really wants that chance.

The knock on the door pulls him away from his thoughts, taking a breath he crosses his living room to open it, finding a soft-looking TK, who gives him a nervous half-smile as he takes him in.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stepping to the side to let TK in, only TK doesn’t do that; instead, he steps into Carlos’ space, his face inches away from his.

He looks at him for a moment, his green eyes searching for something before he closes the distance between their lips. Carlos sighs into the kiss, bringing his arms around TK’s back as TK wraps his arms around Carlos’ neck. TK’s tongue runs over the stem of Carlos’ lips, and with a soft moan, Carlos opens his mouth. TK kisses him the way he does everything else, one hundred percent in, his tongue dances against his as he deepens the kiss, and all Carlos can do is hold him closer as he gets lost in the taste and feel of TK. He feels perfect in his arms, and it’s all he wants, to keep TK close to him. Jesus, he’s in love, without meaning to, he's fallen in love with this beautiful man, and he just wants to keep him.

Carlos has them pressed against his door when they break the kiss, both breathing heavy. TK keeps a firm grip on him like Carlos has any interest in stepping away from him. He looks at Carlos; his bright, colorful eyes have a soft hazy look to them.

“The marriage tamales, Carlos,” TK whispers, there’s almost a pleading quality to his tone. “What do they mean?”

Carlos inhales sharply, his heart pounding in his ears as TK looks at him earnestly. Licking his lips, he closes his eyes for a moment, and he feels the way TK runs his fingers at the top of his spine, almost petting him to calm him down. Opening his eyes, he looks back into TK’s, time to lay it all out on the table, and hope he’s not wrong in his optimism.

“It means,” he starts, his voice not much more than a whisper. “It means I want to be yours, and you be mine. It means that I want what I have wanted from the moment I met you.”

“What’s that?” TK whispers back, his eyes are large, and he looks at Carlos like he’s genuinely seeing him for the first time.

“A chance to love you the way you deserve,” he tells him, smiling at TK when he lets out a sharp breath. “If you let me, I’ll love you the way you should always be loved, Tyler. Entirely and with my whole heart.”

“What if I don’t deserve that?” TK asks, swallowing hard, his eyes glassy from unshed tears.

“I’ve never heard a bigger untruth in my life, you deserve everything good this world has to offer,” Carlos brings his hands to TK’s face, cradling his cheeks, his thumb under his eyes, ready to wipe away the tears. He hates that someone made TK feel like this. “I’m not saying I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you. All I can say is that I’ll treat you like you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, because you are, we aren’t even together, and you already are.”

TK closes his eyes, and more tears spill, but there is also a blinding smile on his face as he pulls Carlos even closer, resting his forehead against his. “When your sisters said that the tamales are only for people you guys think are special and love,” TK opens his eyes, and Carlos has never seen anything more beautiful than the man standing in front of him. “I wanted that. I want to be special to you, loved by you. I want it so bad, Carlos. I think I have wanted it from the start and it scared the fuck out of me, it still scares me.”

TK pauses, taking a breath. He lets his hand slide down from Carlos’ neck to his chest, letting it rest over Carlos’ heart, he smiles up at him when Carlos covers his hand with his, holding it to his chest. “But I want it more than it scares me, Carlos.”

“Yeah?” Carlos asks, his cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.

TK grins back at him, a soft laugh falling off his smile as he nods. “Yeah.”

 ֎֍֎

 Carlos pulls his car up in front of the house; the driveway is already full of vehicles. Turning his head to look at the house, he makes a vague note that the house could use a paint job. It’s not bad, but a touch-up is needed. Looking next to him, he takes in his passenger. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks for the third time since he started his car. TK flashes him a smile, it’s a little nervous but mostly amused at his expense. He shifts the package he has in his hands, drawing Carlos’ attention to it, it makes him smile.

“Yes, I’m sure,” TK answers firmly, the same way he has since Valentina called this morning to ask if he was with his white boy, and if he had finally declared his love for him, then their mom insisted he bring TK to a late lunch at the house since dinner didn’t happen the night before.

He’d had the phone on speaker when speaking with his sister, and before Carlos could weasel out of it, TK answered they would be there, asking if he should bring anything.

Valentina had gone silent for a second, before letting out a loud laugh, telling him that bringing his pretty self was more than enough.

“Okay,” Carlos takes a deep breath as TK flashes him another smile, his hand going for the door handle, but Carlos can’t help but stop him.

TK gives him a curious look; his brow pinched softly in the middle. “Carlos?”

“Just don’t break up with me now that we’re finally together because my family is crazy, please?” Carlos rushes out to say, only half-joking. He adores his family; he’d give his life for them. But they’re nuts, and last night was only a taste of it, now that they know he and TK are together, he can only imagine how extra crazy they’re going to be.

TK’s expression softens, he lets go of the handle, turning his body back towards Carlos. “Come here,” he commands softly, his hand reaching for Carlos’ cheek to pull him close. Carlos goes as he’s asked, sighing as TK presses his forehead against his.

“I’m not going to change my mind about this,” TK tells him quietly, his thumb drawing circles on his cheekbone. “I know I have been hot and cold with you.”

Carlos opens his mouth to argue only for TK to cover it with his hand.

“But,” TK emphasizes. “I know what I want now, okay?”

“And it’s me, right?” Carlos askes, needing to be sure, the smile TK gives him is bright and sweet.

Carlos’ eyes shut a second before TK’s lips touch his. The kiss TK gives him is gentle, a soft press of his lips, it’s after Carlos lets out an impatient sound that TK deepens it. Still, Carlos can feel TK’s smile against his lips as he licks into his mouth, the temperature in his car rising with every swipe. Carlos grabs at the back of TK’s head, pulling him closer, moaning as the action makes TK suck on his bottom lip.

“Tyler –,” he groans out as TK pulls his mouth off his, starting to kiss his way down his neck. “Baby, please.”

He’s not even sure what he’s begging for, and neither have time to find out when there is a sharp knock at the hood of his car, startling them enough to jump away from each other.

Looking over towards the passenger side window, Carlos lets out a deep mortifying groan as he takes in the smirking faces of his three sisters watching them.

“Heeey, bro,” Lola starts, her eyes flickering from him to TK and back again, her grin growing, while Sofía places a hand over her mouth, and Valentina shakes her head, rolling her eyes. Carlos looks at TK to find him blushing, his eyes a little hazy, and though he’s embarrassed himself, he’s also more than a little proud by the expression he’s put on his boyfriend’s face.

“So we can see you’re having a real good time out here,” Lola continues, and Carlos hears one of his other sisters snort. “But we’re kind of hungry, and you know Mami doesn’t serve unless we’re all sitting down, so if you could stop eating your gringo’s face, we’d appreciate it. Mami made carne asada and raja con papas.”

Sofía leans down to speak to them. “She said he’s too skinny, so she went dish heavy and made a lot,” she looks at TK, giving him a shrug. “You better be ready to roll out of here, she’s going to stuff you.”

TK laughs, giving his sisters a nod he opens the door to the car and steps out. Carlos follows, going around the car quickly to take his hand.

They start towards the house only for Valentina to hold up a hand to them. “What’s that?” she points at what TK is carrying in his other hand even though it’s obvious what it is.

TK looks down at his hand and grins when he looks back up at his sister. “You said I didn’t need to bring anything, but I was taught not to come into a house empty-handed,” he smirks when Lola and Sofía start laughing as he shows them the gift he got their mother.

“No mames!” Lola gets out through her chuckles, setting Sofía off again.

Valentina shakes her head again, also smiling. “He’s a smartass little shit,” she looks over at him with approval. “Good job with this one, Nene. Mom might box his ears, though.”

Carlos shrugs, he’s not worried, he saw the way his mother looked at TK the night before, and he knows he’s already won her over.

Walking into the house, they find Carlota Reyes standing in the foyer, a smile on her face, and the house smelling amazing. Leave it to his mom to have a kitchen fire the night before and now a little over twelve hours later have lunch ready.

“Mami,” he greets her, letting go of TK’s hand to hug her, leaning down so she can kiss his cheek.

“Carlitos,” she greets him back before looking over at TK with an even wider smile. “Welcome back, guapo.”

“I did say I would make it happen, ma’am,” TK grins at her. He holds up the small home extinguisher he’s been holding, presenting it to her, his lips twitching as Carlota narrows her eyes at him and his present. “Valentina said no flowers.”

Carlota stares at it for another few seconds; everything is quiet as she purses her lips. “Que suerte la mia,” she starts, rolling her eyes when the girls start laughing. “Another smart ass, not like I already have four.”

“That means she’s adopting you,” Lola tells TK as she throws an arm around his shoulder for a moment. Valentina and Sofía nod in agreement, grinning at TK as he smiles back at them. Carlota shakes her head at all of them, the corners of her mouth curling upward.

“Enough standing around, let's eat,” she orders them, waving towards the dining room. They all listen and start to make their way into the room.

Carlota stops TK with a touch of her hand on his arm, Carlos stops too, watching TK with his mother. “Thanks for the gift, mijo, I appreciate it.”

TK looks over at him and then back at his mother, a soft smile on his face as he covers her hand with his. “Gotta keep you safe, ma’am, you’re my boyfriend’s mother after all.”

Carlos watches as his mother lights up, and he feels something warm spread through him as he watches two people he loves get along. Behind him, he knows his sisters are also listening; he can feel their approval too.

“Call me Carlota, ojos bonitos, Carlota.”

[kashimos-hajime]

run to you | amaranthine (6/6) | b.b.

summary: “How dare you make me choose between the son I chose and the man I love?”

WARNINGS: blood, civil war bullshit, swearing, angst like HELLO, mentions of torturing/brainwashing, but some softness too, ends on a hopeful note pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 11.2k

a/n: super long chapter bc i tried to pack the essentials of 2016 into here! hope you enjoy loves and sorry for the wait!! there’s a LOT of subtle tony and reader family vibes. it’s 224 am as i post/edit this so excuse any of that. vibes are run to you by pentatonix.

amaranthine masterlist

I've been settling scores I've been fighting so long But I've lost your war And our kingdom is gone

You move Bucky Barnes to the bunker he left forty years ago while he heals. He sleeps a lot, although nightmares plague then more often than not, and you try to busy yourself by running errands—trying to find something for you to do. You’ve spent the last forty years focused on achieving this one thing and now…

Now, you’re bored.

It’s only been three days.

“I’m going to find Tony, okay?” you mumble into the pillow, relishing the gentle, tentative caress of his fingers along your bicep. He’s been watching you sleep for the past hour or so, blue eyes muted and soft. You’d spent the night soothing his nightmares, wiping away the sweat, assuring him that you’re here, and you’re exhausted, but the day needs to start no matter what. Opening your eyes, you meet those blue eyes, and brush strands of hair away from his forehead. His pink lips are twisted into a frown, and you smile. “What is it?”

“If I’m staying with you, then we can’t stay here,” he whispers. You wrinkle your nose, leaning forward to kiss him chastely before getting up but he cups the back of your neck, bringing you close again.

“I can’t just disappear on Tony,” you mumble against his mouth. “I need to tell him.”

“No.” It’s sharp, succinct, the taste of fear and desperation that seeps into your skin as he grabs your wrists, and you sit up, pulling him up so you can look at him. You swallow your words as he shakes his head, metal arm clicking, clicking clicking.

“Bucky, I can’t keep this a secret from him. I can’t keep what happened with Howard and Maria a secret. He’s my family.” Your hand gently rubs the scarring of his shoulder before running down his bare chest, and your fingers trace the stitches where the chest tube had been before finding his waist. “I can’t, and you can’t make me choose between him or you. Please don’t make me choose.”

“I wouldn’t,” he whispers, his hand going up and down your arm. The rough calluses of his palm, the warmth of his skin, it sends shivers down your spine. “I could never do that to you, but don’t you see he’ll hate me?”

“He’ll understand. When you explain it to him, he’ll understand that that wasn’t you.” You hold him closer, his forehead pressing into your chest and you close your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. Your other hand holds his head to you, and he’s silent, grabbing at the sheets around them. He’s holding himself back from touching you. “I’m not going to let him hurt you.” You rest your chin on his head and he lets out a shuddering breath at the feel of your fingers tracing the curve of his back. A sort of desperation sinks into your gut and you slide your arms around him, palms smoothing over the scars carved into his muscle. They’re faded but still waxy to your touch, and you bury your face into his hair.

“They’ll take me when you tell him. He’ll take me,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and breaking. “You can’t stop them from taking me.”

“Bucky—”

“It doesn’t matter.” He pulls back, eyes empty of anything. He is the void of grief, guilt, anger. He is the devil’s puppet, and now that you’ve cut his strings, he does not know how to move on his own. He wants what he thinks he deserves. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I was the Winter Soldier. I still did it.” Your hands cup his face, and his hands find your waist as he sucks in a huge breath, trying to calm a heart rate you can hear racing through his body. Sitting in his lap, you simply soak in those tired features, before sliding your arms around his neck again and hugging him tight.

“Let me do it all,” you whisper. Kissing his hair, you pull yourself away, and his eyes drop to his hands. You press your lips together, jaw clenching, and something inside you breaks at how small he looks, hunched over in your bed. “Don’t worry, okay? Get some sleep.”

“I should pay for what I did, shouldn’t I?” he whispers. “At least you’ll know where I am.”

“Let me handle it, love,” you repeat. “Don’t spiral on me before we know for sure, alright?” Pulling on a shirt, your mind is running through the list of all the things you can do. Everything you can’t do. Some very selfish part of you wants to hide Bucky away from the world, give him the time he needs—the time you need, but you think of Tony who you’ve always put first before anything else.

The abject horror of watching him fly into the wormhole, the death of his parents, nearly losing Pepper…

Tony has grounded you ever since he was born. He’s been with you despite everything you’ve lost. You grieved his parents together, you were there when he walked across the stage even though his father wasn’t. You love Tony… you love him…

But Bucky… you have dedicated your entire life to him. You have loved him, searched for him despite all odds. You mourned him for thirty years, and then the other forty he wasn’t with you. You stay up at night imagining all that could’ve been, and still be.

To pit them against each other is impossible, yet you must choose anyway.

You meet up with Tony for lunch and say you have a new lead in Europe. I need a ride, maybe some supplies. This’ll have to be off the grid.

Tony worries, but that’s in his nature, and you can’t say anything about it.

You ask Bucky where he wants to go in the world, and you promise you’ll take him.

He tells you Bucharest—a place untouched by the kiss of frost, untouched by the Winter Soldier, a place where the two of you can start anew.  

You fight off the nausea curdling your stomach the whole flight there.

.

It’s been two years since Washington, and Bucky still wakes up surprised when you present to him a cup of hot coffee and a plate of breakfast. It’s become one of your favourite things, to spoil Bucky Barnes, and you do it every chance you get. There’s a quiet routine the two of you have fallen into ever since the two of you decided to settle in Bucharest, and you enjoy it. You don’t mention his nightmares—they’ve receded into only three times a week instead of every night—nor does he bring up the fact that you’ve left everything behind for him—you pick up your phone to call Tony at least once every day before convincing yourself it’s better this way and setting it back down without dialling.  

No, you follow the routine.

Wake up in bed together with the occasional surprise breakfast in bed

Shower and then plan out the day after breakfast

Go out to the markets

Have lunch together and go to the library

Your afternoons are normally spent together, but there is the occasion Bucky will go on a run or you’ll spend yours baking, and you won’t see him until dusk, but you don’t mind.

No one’s searching for you now, although the backpack underneath the floorboards and the one in the false bottom of one of your empty drawers still whisper in your ear.

“How about plums for dessert?” he asks, uncertain as the two of you walk the markets. It’s bustling, loud with life, and you smile, wrapping an arm around his. You squeeze his hand, and his eyes soften when his eyes meet yours. You’ve given him a haircut just this morning, and it makes him look younger, like the man you knew back in the forties. Those eyes are his, too. Bucky’s slowly coming back to you every day. “They should be in season, and fresh fruit seem nice.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll go get the papers,” you say, and he nods. They don’t normally waste the money they have on things they didn’t need like the papers just in case the two of you need to pack up quickly and move, but you know he likes to read news about Steve. Steve. Hah. You wonder what he’d think, knowing you’ve been hiding your best friend away from him for two years. Knowing Bucky wanted to hide at all.

Bucky’s eyes are doubtful, but you merely adjust the cap on his head and smile. Although your fingers want to brush hair behind his ear, you know that you’ve snipped it all away. Instead, you cup his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eye. You lean up to peck his jaw, untangling yourself from him and his eyes linger on your face before he turns to walk into the maze of stalls. Surveying your surroundings, you watch people pass by, going on with their day, before spotting a vendor across the street. He’s chewing lazily on a straw, leaning on the desk as he reads the newest lotto numbers, and you wait until the light turns, crossing the road.

“Good afternoon,” you begin, approaching the stall. Your gaze trails across the magazines, the little toys and bobs that tourists would love, before glancing up at the man who drags his eyes away from the little TV he has hanging at the top left corner of his stall.  You smile, adjusting the hoodie on your frame. “Do you have today’s paper?”

“Yeah.” He lazily grabs one from the box, sliding it first page down over. “Three leu.”

You procure three one leu bills, handing it over for the paper and you dip your head in thanks before heading back across the street. You tuck the newspaper underneath your arm, eyes scanning for a place to give it a brief read. Bucky’s still wandering the markets, his hand holding onto a bag of some other vegetables you know he hadn’t intended to buy, but you’ve convinced him you can come up with something no matter what he buys. You like the variety it brings, and you hope he likes the choice of it all.

His eyes catch yours as if he knows you’re staring and you wave, unclamping the paper from your arm. His lips twitch into a faint smile before he approaches the fruit vendor and you find an empty spot on the bench, sitting down with your bag in your lap.

The day’s not too warm or too cold, and you relish in the gentle breeze kissing your cheeks as you set your gaze on the paper.

Your breath spears into your ribs, everything inside you draining out as you read the front page of the news.

Winter Soldier. Bombing in Vienna at a United Nations Conference. The Winter Soldier.

Winter Soldier.

Your eyes widen as you soak in the black ink, printed boldly, sharply into the dulled paper. Your hands tremble and your guts are in knots. Chains wrap around your stomach, squeezing bile up your throat as you throw the paper off of you like it’s poison. Your eyes sweep the area, blood rushing down to your legs as you search for threats and Bucky, bumping into random civilians who have no idea what you’ve just read. You can barely contain yourself to a run, unwilling to draw attention to yourself as you scour the markets. He isn’t at the fruit vendor’s stand. Not at this one anyway.

Shit, shit, shit.

You know it isn’t Bucky.

Bucky was here with you.

Shit, shit, shit. Where is he?

Holding your bag tight to you, you feel the contours of the pistol you carry with you at all times, eyes searching, eyes trying to find you. His eyes—ocean eyes—brown jacket, that red henley. Red and blue and brown—

His voice, that sweet voice speaking Romanian, pierces your hearing and you turn to the source of the sound, seeing him lean over as he rolls a plum between his metal fingers. Fingers you know feel just like his flesh hand does, just as your hand does.

You focus on this as you walk towards him, as strange as it seems. You focus on his metal hand covered beneath glove and sleeve, and how whenever you hold it, you don’t feel like you’re holding something dead. How whenever you hold Bucky’s hand, you do not feel like you are dead.

“Love,” you call in Romanian, and he turns to you. For a moment, his eyes study you before he smiles and looks at the wooden tray of plums proudly.

“What do you think, angel?”

“They’re lovely, but we have to go,” you whisper, not giving the fruits a second glance. Bucky’s still eyeing the rows of plums but you reach up, turn his face towards you. His eyes soak you in, soak in the panic radiating out of your every pore, the wild fear, and his eyebrows furrow together. He takes your hands, squeezing them gently, before excusing himself from the vendor and pulling you away.

“What is it?”

“We have to get back to the flat, now,” you whisper, pulling him close to you. He wraps an arm instinctively around you, ducking his head so his face is covered by the shadow of his cap and you keep a smile on your face. Both of their sets of eyes are making sure no one’s tailing them as you explain in English under your breath, “There was a bombing at the United Nations conference in Vienna. Someone framed you. King T’Chaka is dead.”

“What? Who?”

“Someone who doesn’t want you to rest.” His arm tightens around your shoulder as you reach the apartment building. Urging Bucky into a quick march, the two of you part and you run up the stairs first as he bars the door to the lobby behind him.

“My journals—”

“We’ll go get them,” you assure quietly, already running through a list in your head of what you’ll need on short notice. You’ve been prepared for weeks for this. You’ve never had the luxury to be comfortable in that cramped apartment with only a mattress between them and newspaper plastered over the windows. Entering the apartment silently, you head for the bathroom first, unhooking the mirror from the wall to grab quinjet keys from the tiny hole in the wall. Your eyes pass over the trash can littered with Bucky’s hair, and you swallow, grabbing the scissors off the sink countertop.

Running into the kitchen, you unzip your purse and toss it aside, shoving the pistol down the back of your pants before crouching down and pulling open the drawer with the false bottom. Bucky hides next to you, helping you lift the false bottom to a backpack containing all your assault rifle parts, canned foods, water, and first-aid. 

Unzipping it, you watch him stuff the little snacks they’ve spent money on, candy bars and granola, into your back as you listen out for intruders. You throw the scissors, just as you look at the back door.

Something scuffs outside your front door and every muscle in you freezes.

The door gives in quietly, and you pull the pistol out of your waistband slowly, eyes trained on Bucky. He shakes his head. He doesn’t recognize the sound of their footsteps either. Not their nosy neighbour, or the kid from upstairs who knocks on their door every once in a while.

The intruder steps foot and the wood gives in immediately. It’s their trap plank, one they know squeaks, and you know immediately it is a stranger. Shooting up, your arms press against the countertop, fingers hovering on the trigger as your thumb pushes the safety off, and you swallow, taking in a deep breath to steady your heart rate. Your mind is sharply focused on the feel of the gun in your hands, and your throat folds as the image of the intruder burns itself into your brain.

“Y/N?”

“Steve?” Straightening up, you lower the pistol but your body does not ease at the sight of Captain America here. “What are you doing here?”

“Heads up, Cap. German Special Forces approaching from the south.”

“Why are you here?” His shield is still to his side, and your jaw clenches. Bucky is still crouched by your feet, and you reach down to grab the backpack, swinging it onto your shoulder. “Tony said you were off the grid.”

You pull up your hood roughly, tying the drawstrings tight. “I am.”

“They’ve set the perimeter.”

“Where’s Bucky?”

“He wasn’t in Vienna. I can testify for him.” Your voice is taut as you walk out from behind the counter. Your foot is just over the floorboard where Bucky’s backpack full of journals is and you inhale deeply as you glance back at the door behind you. It’s a long fall down from the twenty-seventh story.

“Well, the people who think he did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking him alive.” His words sink into the air, and you nod. You hadn’t thought any different. “He’s here.” Steve‘s voice dips at the words, and you falter for a moment, finger finally relaxing on the trigger. His eyes scan the apartment, before landing on the kitchen counter and it’s almost as if he sees right through it and then this man, this sad, sad man looks at you again with grief powerful enough to kill anything. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Your voice, soft, delicate: “Yes.” You turn to the crouching man who stands, head bowed before turning to meet Steve, and you can feel the tension, thick as butter on your tongue. How much you ache to just slice through it with a sharp knife, but you merely watch, study Steve’s expression. Although half his face is covered by a helmet, his eyes tell you everything. His eyes, wide with shock, blown with nostalgia, as they see a short-haired Bucky—a shadow of his best friend, who stares at him with such emptiness it pains the soul.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks softly.

“They’re entering the building.”

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

“We have to go, Bucky,” you whisper and he turns to you, nodding. Steve steps forward but you merely raise the gun to him. He freezes in his tracks. “I’m not afraid to shoot a soldier, Rogers.”

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.”

“You used to be,” he says and you sigh heavily as Bucky pulls off his leather glove to reveal that metal hand, gleaming and elegant and cold. You can hear the pattering of boots up the concrete steps, and your mind runs over escape routes through tunnels, sewers, ways you can escape without hurting anyone on your way out. The thought of death makes you exhausted.

You head towards the kitchen, pulling open a cabinet and grabbing the black holster, clipping it onto your belt, shaking your head to yourself. “We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs. You turn the safety on, slip the pistol into the holster. The two of you share a look, and you nod to reassure yourself and him.

“Five seconds.”

An uneasy glance to the window.

“You pulled me from the river. Why?”

“Four seconds.”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t know.”

“Three seconds.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Two seconds…. Breach! Breach! Breach!”

Glass shatters and you turn to the window as a flash bang barrels through the air. Smacking it out of the air, you turn away and close your eyes tight, away from the blinding white light just as another one is thrown through the glass. Steve muffles it with his shield and there’s German shouts on the other side of the door as the wood begins to give beneath the ram.

You’re grabbed by Bucky who shoves you towards the mattress, and you lift it up, rebounding another flash bang. A high pitched whine fills your ears, and you turn to see Bucky fling the table at the door to buy them more time. Letting the mattress fall, you run to roll behind the kitchen counter as soldiers burst through the window. Tackling the man, you manage to disarm him with a quick break to his arm before another guy bursts through the back door to the balcony. Steve takes care of him easily and you punch through the floorboard, grabbing the straps of Bucky’s backpack and flinging it out the door just as three more men stream in through the broken windows. Pushing yourself over, you roll into one of the soldier’s space, reaching up and grabbing his gun just as Bucky punches him out. Steve lands a nasty bash of a shield to the other man’s head, ringing him out, and you grab a cinder block, flinging it towards the last one.

The contact dazes him, shattering against his helmet which cracks upon impact and Bucky kicks him through the wall, letting him dangle off the side of the building just as Steve grabs at him.

“Buck, stop! You’re going to kill someone.”

Two more men repel down the side, landing on the window sill and you barely hear Bucky whisper ‘I’m not going to kill anyone’ before he grabs Steve and throws him at the intruder.

The other man detaches himself from his rope, dropping onto your mattress and you sprint at him, too quickly for him to bring up your gun. He raises his arms, trying to protect his face but you fling yourself at him, legs wrapping around his chest, arms catching him in a chokehold. Wrenching him back, the two of you fall together before you fling him off of backwards, letting him crash into the bookcase before you roll to your feet again.

Shotgun blasts disturb the pitched whining in your ears as they detach their door from its hinges and you suck in the breath of sulphur and gun oil, approaching the barred door with a determined set to your jaw. Bucky walks past you, leading the way while you keep an eye on his six. His metal fingers curl into a fist as you take a moment to gather yourself. The adrenaline pumping through your veins is pure fire and your muscles welcome every stretch and pull as he punches through the wall, knocking out whoever’s holding the shotgun, before barging through.

Slipping past Bucky, you jump onto whoever’s at the top of the staircase, bringing him and his friends down behind him. You fall into a messy heap, your body nipping from the sharp edges of the stairs as glass shatters above and you spare a glance to see someone repelling from the glass roof. The sound of an AR going off makes you flinch, but it’s cut short as more men climb up the steps.

Climbing up onto the red rail, you balance atop of it and wait for a man to pass just across from you on the flight below, and jump. Landing on him, you use him to break your fall, soldiers crowding around you, and you bring up his body as a shield, lunging into whoever’s down the steps next to you. Once you’re on solid ground, you block whatever hits come your way, flinging people off of you left and right.

You punch a man in the throat, fist leaving him breathless as you throw him into the wall before ducking underneath a swing from someone behind you. You grab their wrist, twisting it behind their back and pulling enough for his shoulder to give away in a small pop. He crumples before you as you kick the back of his knees before climbing over the railing once again and swinging down. You bypass all the other soldiers trying to catch up, too quick for them to realize you’re their target as you try to think.

Bucky’s still far above you, but he knows where his journals are and where the meet up point is.

You can’t count how many nights you’ve spent staying up with him, compiling a seamless escape plan with so many exchangeable routes. You descend down the steps, another wave of soldiers storming up and the first one swings up his gun, a smattering of bullets causing you to duck.

You spot a door that leads to an outer staircase and barge through with your shoulder. It opens with a slam, the sound ringing in your ears, and you don’t give yourself time to second doubt your abilities before you’re jumping.

Your legs bunch, stretch, bring you to the concrete railing before launching you forward. You flail through the air, the wind dragging at your clothes, and your heart shoves its way up your throat. You’re weightless for just a moment before you land, body tipping to roll out the momentum. You grab Bucky’s backpack, holding it to your chest and you turn around to see if he’s following.

Not even a minute later, you see him bursting from a few stories above you, landing with a painful grunt. He pushes himself up, sprinting towards you and you throw him his backpack just as a shadow flies over you.

Raising your gaze, you squint against the sun to see a black figure soar through the air. Bucky whirls around just as the attacker lands on him and you run towards him. The black figure is sleek, human, and you frown at the cat ears, the silver weave in between metal fibres.

The Black Panther.

Shit.

It doesn’t stop you from running at him full force, pushing him off his balance. You duck underneath a swipe of his claws, turning to Bucky quickly. “Go!”

Blocking a swing from the left, you grab his wrist and pull him into your fist, jabbing him twice underneath the ribs but the Panther's claws latch onto your sleeve, pulling you over and kicking you in the abdomen.

You crash into an air vent with a gasp, the air pushes out of your lungs as the Panther comes at you again. His claws dig into the vent beside your ear and you grimace, pushing back against his hand that comes gliding through metal like soft cheese. Slouching, you let his arm run over your head and bring a knee to your chest. When your foot connects with his chest, you launch him across the roof, his claws nearly nicking your other ear.

A whirling fills the air, the vibrations running through your bones, and you peer up at the sky to see a helicopter. The shudder of the machine gun ripples through the air and your eyes widen as a trail of bullet fire cracks the roof, dust spiralling through the air.

“Come on!”

A rough hand grabs your shoulder and you’re pulled roughly to your feet. Shoes digging into the concrete, you can feel the bullets nip at your heels, the spat, spat, spat of death chasing you before you throw yourself off the edge of the roof and onto a narrow edge. Bucky lands before you, not pausing before jumping off the roof and you follow after him. He catches you by the waist, softening the landing but it’s still a shockwave up your legs.

An ache festers in your shins, your lungs are on fire, and you try to keep your eyes on target as the helicopter cuts you off and you stutter to a halt while Bucky jumps into the tunnel. Glancing behind you, you see the Panther run after Bucky, and you vault over the barrier, your mind already making a new route.

The helicopter flies after you as you run across rooftops, the tunnel still running below you, and you feel weightless as you jump from building to building. Your feet slap against the rooftops, your lungs burning.

Dropping down onto the street, you spot a brick barrier around an opening. There are civilians, women, men, and children, who are sitting on the benches or going about their day and you wave them off, screaming for them to get to cover as the helicopter speeds after you. Jumping onto the bench you use it as a stepping off point and you jump into the hole, onto the tunnel road just as a car swerves to miss you. You whip around, trying to find Bucky and you see him sprinting towards you. Behind him are a plethora of blue and red and white lights, piercing the dimness of the tunnel.

The ground rumbles beneath your feet and you turn to see a couple on a pair of motorcycles speeding towards you. Buckling your backpack across your chest, you run towards the woman and you knock her off as carefully, as quickly as you can. She lets out a terrified shriek as you swing it off the road, your leg hooking on the seat.

Your fingers wrap around the handlebars, and as soon as the wheels are grounded once again, you speed against the direction of traffic. Leading the way, you press yourself against the motorcycle.

Everything falls to a blur, your eyes ahead but when an explosion prompts you to look back, your eyes widen at the rubble collapsing the tunnel. Bucky floors it, trying to catch up with you just as something is flung through the air.

You open your mouth to warn him but the next thing you know, Bucky’s skidding across asphalt, tumbling and you brake hard. Tires screeching and leaving black marks in the road, you jump off the cycle and run towards him while Steve tackles the Panther off of Bucky. There’s a loud crash of vehicles, and you barely glance up before you skid to a stop. Crouching beside him, your eyes search for injuries, road burns, anything, as the sound of sirens echo through the tunnel. Cars surround them on all sides.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, helping him up, and his hand snags on yours as he nods with a grunt. The Black Panther stands, and you eye him with scrutiny, standing in between the two men. When you’re sure he won’t attack you, you turn to look at Bucky. He’s panting hard and his hand finds your forearm, gripping you protectively as if he isn’t the one they’re searching for. You gently take his hand and put it down, raising your head to meet his eyes.

I’m sorry, he seems to say.

We’ll get out of this, you promise. You cup his cheek briefly, the flashing blue and red lights illuminating his face and he nods, eyes trained on the Panther. Letting your hand drop, you turn to assess the situation.

You eye your surroundings discreetly, keeping your body turned into Bucky, counting the number of guns pointed at you. All of the German Special Forces are taking cover behind their cars, suited in black bulletproof vests, the air rank with burnt cement and melting rubber. Behind the Panther, officers exit their vehicles, and you feel the landing of War Machine before you hear his voice.

A clank of metal, the quaint sound of his repulsors firing up. James Rhodes. Rhodey.

“Stand down, now. Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve raise his hands and you’re nudged away from Bucky as he’s forced to his knees. A gun pushes into your back, forcing you into line beside the Black Panther. You let out a grunt but willingly go, not keen on having a gun shoved into your face even more than it already is, and keep your head down as Bucky is pushed onto his stomach. Manacles clink into place and you raise your hands. Undoing the drawstring, you feel the hood loosen around your head.

“Your Highness.”

You turn to the man beside you, a man who shares similar features to a man you’ve met in the past and he holds his helmet in his hands as he meets your gaze.

T’Chaka’s son stands before you and when you tug down the hood, you hear James’ filtered breath, a soft inhale he fails to mask to your impeccable hearing.

“Doctor.”

The guns lower and you raise your hands again.

"Hey, Rhodey.”

.

You stare into the thick, three inch glass cell, but Bucky refuses to look at you. He’s chained by the legs and wrists to the exam table, and you cross your arms over your chest.

“You should go,” he whispers in Romanian, his voice muffled by the barrier between them. “They only want me.”

“I’m not letting them take you without fighting for you. You didn’t do it.”

“They don’t care.” The task force around you is arguing about moving him, but none of them seem eager to go even close to the most dangerous man in history. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” The forklift’s engine ignites and you step back as it lifts him up, the glass cell tipping back and cutting off your conversation. You press your lips together, watching as his eyes struggle to meet yours, and every nerve in your body is telling you to follow after him, but you don’t.

“So, this was your off-grid mission, huh? Playing house with my potential godfather?”

You close your eyes, lower your head. Tony steps in beside you, and you sigh. “Tony, I—”

“How long?” He doesn’t sound angry, furious as you’d expected. Simply… simply interested. Opening your eyes again, you look up and Bucky’s gone.

“Ever since Washington. He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well, I’m glad you found him. I knew you were just one call away.”

At this, you turn to admire your boy, and he smiles. He looks tired, his red silk tie doing nothing for the beginnings of eyebags pulling at his face, but he’s still the boy you raised and love as your own. “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“Thanks, auntie.” Your body melts at the name, a name he hasn’t called you since he was twenty-one and you two were standing at his parents’ tombstones while he sobbed into your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around him desperately. He sinks into your embrace and your eyes close as you stroke his hair. “I don’t know what to do.” About the Accords, about Steve, about Lagos. I read your emails, Tony. Every single one.

It’d been a weekly trip to the quinjet parked outside of Bucharest, just a little hike with Bucky to reconnect and refresh themselves. You were supposed to go tomorrow.

“You’ll do what’s right,” you murmur. You know it because that is what Tony has done since he’s been a little boy. “You can try, and try, and try, but sometimes, people won’t change, or they’ll do something you didn’t expect, and it won’t be your fault.”

“Ma’am, we need to take you to your cell.”

Pulling apart, you run a thumb down Tony’s cheek like you did when he was younger, and he smiles. He’s still got that little boy’s smile, but it fades quicker when he realizes what the task force member said to you.

“Cell. Right.”

“H.Y.D.R.A. still tampered with me, too,” you mutter, inspecting his hair. “They want me for a psych eval, priority number two after Bucky.” You spot a few grey hairs at his roots, and you frown. “You need to get some sleep.”

“Pepper and I are on a break,” he says with a shrug. “Still getting used to the empty bed.” Clicking your tongue, you sigh and pull him into another tight hug quickly. “I’ll see you in a bit. I need to sort this out.”

“I know you will.” You draw away and walk after the soldier down the same path Bucky was taken. You look back to see your boy still looking, and you smile. Everything’s going to be fine.

Tony will figure this out, you tell yourself. We’ll figure everything out together.

.

“What’s your favourite colour?” a guard asks you in heavily accented English, and you smile. You’ve been staring at your handcuffs ever since they put them on you.

“Blue,” you tell him in German. “And you?”

“Purple. It is my wife’s favourite colour,” he explains and your smile softens at the sentiment.

“Blue is the colour of his eyes,” you reply and he ducks his head, trying to hide his smile. You sit at the table, tapping your fingers against the metal, and he stands at the doorway, rifle held in hand, but you’re not afraid.

“You love him, yes?”

“For decades, now.”

“I am a big fan. My father told stories about the Howling Commandos, ma’am.”

“I’m flattered.”

We’ll figure it out.

The lights switch off and the room plunges into black before the emergency lights turn on. Everything around you is illuminated with red or bathed in blue shadows as you look up.

“What was that?”

“We will stay here. I’m sure it is nothing,” he says, and you nod. Something bites at your stomach and you look down at your chained ankles before glancing at the security camera in the corner of the room. “He does have beautiful eyes,” the soldier offers as a comfort and you chuckle. “My children have blue eyes.”

“You have children?” you ask with a wonderous grin. The idea of children has always been so far out of your mind that just the thought sends your mind into a flurry of possibilities. “How many?”

“Twins, a boy and a girl. They are three years old.” He’s extremely proud of it and you tilt your head up at him, your smile growing. “Albert and Ada.”

“That’s adorable. How long—” Your question is cut off by a violent scream, and your head jerks to the wall, the wall that separates you from Bucky. “What the hell was that?”

“Ma’am—” You stand up and he looks tentative to raise a gun towards you, but you’re too terrified to do anything else.

“That is not the sound of a man going through a psych eval.” The memories of the last time you confronted the Winter Soldier blazing through your mind, you shuffle around the table.

“Ma’am, sit down, or I will be forced to shoot.”

“Take these cuffs off of me, now.” You raise the silver chains to him, and he gazes at you apprehensively. You know, with enough effort, you could probably tear your wrists out, but you don’t want to hurt this man. “If what I think is happening is happening, you are not safe. The most dangerous man in history is just through that wall. You’re not going to be able to stop him.” When the man still hesitates, you let out a frustrated growl that’s punctured by another desperate scream. “Think of your wife, your children, and leave.”

You lift your cuffed hands again and you meet his gaze, dark brown almost black in the red lights. His mustache twitches before he lifts up the key. The mechanical cuffs click and release, a hiss of air escaping and you let out a relieved breath, tossing them aside while the soldier ducks to unlock the ones around your ankles.

As soon as the manacles unlock, you’re stepping out of them, your legs unusually heavy. You feel as if you’re swimming through molasses, flinging open the door and running to the room next to yours.

“Bucky!”

The pounding against glass, like a drumbeat, shatters your skull and you rush into the room, spotting a man holding a red book slowly pacing around the glass cage. Bucky’s fist is slamming against the glass, his head hanging low as he lets out a low groan of pain. At your entry, the man looks up and frowns, as if you are a mere nuisance, and your blood chills at the sight of that book in his hands. Red leather and a printed black star. H.Y.D.R.A.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” you breathe, carefully approaching the man and he flips pages in the red book, eyes not straying from yours.

“Oh, I understand completely the consequences of my actions, and they are intended to rip them apart.” His finger settles on a line on the page and you watch him warily. Bucky leans against the cell door, and you edge towards him slowly. If you can just put yourself between the two and get him out—

“Angel, go,” he croaks breathlessly. You do not listen. “No, you have to. There are words—“

“Step away from the patient, Doctor,” the man says softly, arrogantly. “I do not wish to harm you.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I do.” His eyes flicker to the page. “Angel of death,” he enunciates slowly in Russian, and you’re rooted to the spot as his eyes finally lift off the page. “An apt name for what you could’ve become.”

“Stop.” You ache to forget. You almost do sometimes, and sometimes, it is all you know. “That’s not who I am.”

“Ah, so you do know.”

“Get out of here. Please, go—”

“Unfortunately, I cannot have what I want unless she is out of my way.” You’ve almost reached Bucky’s cell, and your fingers stretch for the handle. The doctor doesn’t stop you, merely looks at you as if committing your image to memory, but not in a fond way. In a way for science: you’re nothing more than a test subject, a data point. Bile crawls up your throat at the thought. “Malady.”

Your brain short circuits. The smell of burning skin sinks into your sinuses and the agony that speared itself into your temples as they shocked your past out of you returns tenfold yet quaintly numb. Something inside your head unwinds, your feral rage you’ve locked away growling in anticipation.

“Three.”

Your whole body is sluggish as you try to work against the voices in your head to give in to the temptation. Pushing yourself against Bucky’s cell, you slam your fist into the glass. It cracks underneath your knuckles.

“Stop!”

“Brimstone.”

The smell of sulphur, the grime beneath your nails. You can taste the still water they shoved towards you, the vomit burning the back of your throat. Voice hoarse, skin slick with oil and sweat. Hell on earth. Your next punch comes weaker, and your knees begin to tremble as the voice in your head grows louder.

The feral rage pokes its head from the shadows, licks its bloody muzzle. It’s starving.

“Longing.”

It slams itself against the metal cages of your mind. Closing your eyes, you collapse against the glass and sink to the floor. You try to ignore his voice, the firm order to his accented German, but the words still sink into your head as if these are welcomed.

“Eternity.”

A hollowness, the weight of your heart wilting in your chest, the unending agony of searching for someone you don’t even know exists, causes you to let out a soft moan. It aches to feel it all at once, to plunge into a darkness you’ve clawed your way out of, and you want to scream, release the knot in your chest. You feel like you can’t breathe—

“Stop!” Bucky’s voice, terribly hoarse as he shouts through the glass sounds so far away and you raise your head to the wretched light. A breath pries its way out of your throat. “No!”

“Nightfall.”

A terrified scream wrenches its way through your throat and you claw at your wrists, eyes unseeing. There are cuffs—Zola is chaining you to the table because you’re thrashing too much. Lurching, you scream for Bucky, your mind unravelling as everything surges back to you. You are in that Austrian prison again, shivering against a bony body. The clamp of the machine against your head digs into your skull and you reach up to your hair. Electricity runs underneath your skin.

Fistfuls of hair bunch between your fingers as you tug, your stomach turning at the rawness of the injections running through your veins. The blood curdles in your head and you pitch forward, head pressing against the concrete floor. You slip away, your vision spattered with stars. The cage creaks under the force of your rage, still chained back but just barely. The metal is rusted, and as the man speaks, you hear it purr in satisfaction. These words are gifts to the animal inside, a fuel to its fire, and the voice sneers, obey, obey, obey.

Repeat after me, soldat.

Ready to comply.

Again.

Ready to comply.

Again.

Я готов отвечить

.

You wake up in a prison cell, your body aching and your throat raw, and you feel like you’ve been charged by a hundred rhinos as your neck sets itself on fire in pain. Trying to narrow your eyes on the side of your neck, you crane your head to spot the giant, blooming purple mark on your throat.

Your skin is red, split with dried blood and bruised. Your lips tremble as you work through each muscle and you let out a soft hiss as you look up at the metal wall. Your reflection is haunting, warped beyond compare.

The blue jumpsuit hangs off your frame, your arms locked together with maximum security handcuffs that are just little more than holes in a big block of titanium. You stand up uneasily, your arms dropping heavily, and approach the bars.

You’re in a circular shaped room, cells just like yours in the wall. Within five of them are Avengers you’ve read or know, and you search for Bucky as one of the guys notices you’re awake. Clint is leaning against the glass, staring at you with a deadly focus from across the room.

“Hey, Doc.”

You don’t respond. Your throat is raw, and it tastes like metal as you send him a nod before continuing your survey of the surroundings. You lean forward, eyes scanning the other empty cells and you notice with a heart wrenching lurch that there are at least two cells between you and the next inmate.

What have I done?

There’s a single door, cameras at every angle. The only other female in the room, a girl, sits in the corner of her cell with her arms strapped to her as she stares up at the camera. The Scarlet Witch.

You turn away, sliding down to the floor with a sigh. Your head is pounding. Closing your eyes, you try to soothe your raging thoughts as you lean against the wall, but your back protests when you move too sharply.

You hear the gears in the doors turn before it opens, and you open your eyes again to see Tony stride in. A wave of shame washes over you once you catch sight of a bruise blooming on his eye and his arm in a sling. It’s searing cold as he stops in the middle of the room, soaking it all in as you are still trying to do. Did I… do that?

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint’s loud clapping pierces your eardrums and you squeeze your eyes tight, twisting away from the center of the room. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what’s best for you whether you like it or not.” The words are dripping with bitter sarcasm and you suppress a growl.

“Shut your mouth, Barton,” you call, your voice grating on your own ears. You tuck your knees to your chest, your titanium cuffed hands in your lap. Your stomach is churning and every shift causes a dull ache. You simply stare into your lap, sore neck arching, and wonder if he’s safe. Wonder who you’ve hurt—how could this have happened?

His footsteps stop before your cell.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Did I do that?” you ask quietly, unable to even look at him. Tony’s sigh reaches your ears, but you can’t tear yourself away from staring at where you know your fingers are, encased because they’re dangerous—you’re dangerous.

“It was Barnes. Are you okay?”

Turning to Tony, you feel so small under his gaze, so pathetic. You’ve always wanted to be strong for him, but the way your mind feels—decimated, torn to shreds—you can’t help but release a shuddering breath in response.

“Whatever he did, it wasn’t him. Please don’t punish him for it.”

“I won’t,” Tony says, and you look up into his eyes. He has Maria’s eyes. “Look, I got them to transfer you to a psych facility in New York,” he adds, tapping on his watch before expanding on an image. He shows it to you and you lean forward, squinting. On the screen says: I know where Barnes is. “Great faculty and staff. You’ll be transported in ten, fifteen minutes? Happy’s overseeing everything, but it’s good to see you awake.” A swipe and the screen shifts. Ping my location once you get on the chopper. “It should run smoothly.”

“What happened with everyone else?” you murmur under your breath, and Tony sighs.

“Ran into some people at an airport in Leipzig.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” He reaches through the bars but you jerk back, swallowing. Angel of death. “What was that back there? I never knew—”

“I didn’t know either. I suspected it, but they wiped memories, tortured us in so many ways, I guess I thought it was a nightmare.” Your eyes flutter shut at the agony that had splintered you apart, and you press your back against the wall, resting your blocked hands on top of your knees. Something inside you pulses unnaturally. “How many people—”

“Don’t do that to yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I barely got to the sixth word before I lost control, Tony.” Your eyes flash to his and his lips press together as you push yourself up. Ragged and exhausted, your skin is not your own. You’ve slipped someone else’s on—a someone you left behind the minute you found Bucky again. Murderer.

“Probably Dad’s work fucking with the programming,” Tony mumbles before raising his voice again. “Natasha and Sharon Carter worked to take you down before you could do any more damage, but Carter ended up with a bruised face, tailbone, and a few other scratches. A shattered hand and wrist. She caught one of your punches before Natasha got in a good blow. Widow’s Bite to the carotid.” When you don’t reply, your godson touches the bars with gentle fingers. “I’ve got to go, but I promise I’ll see you later.” You nod, and his hand falls away from the bars as he walks away. You watch him go, eyes trained on his back, before sitting down on the bed and passing time by staring at the wall and thinking.

When Happy escorts you out of what you now realize is the Raft, your chest deflates at the chopper waiting for you.

When you lift off and the Raft is nothing more than a speck in the waves, Happy unzips the black bag at your feet to reveal all that you need, and he relays the instructions, keeping his eyes steadily on his datapad as you change out of your blue jumpsuit. Changing into a long sleeve thermal shirt, you pull it snug over your chest before pushing your feet through pants.

“Tony’s heading for Siberia,” Happy begins, and you glance up from where you’re lacing up your boots. They’re sturdy, hard, and you juggle your weight from one ball of the foot to the other, trying to work them in. “We’re dropping you off in Bucharest to pick up that quinjet. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will upload coordinates when you start her up.” Grabbing a bulletproof vest, you slip it over your head and begin to velcro it tight. Your insides are twisted and you fight to keep your expression calm as you crouch down to examine the assault rifle. “Ma’am?” You glance up.

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

Your smile feels grimmer than death. “Thank you, Happy.”

.

“Howard… Howard!”

Maria’s voice echoes in your ear, the tape playing over and over again, as you scramble over a small edge of the facility. You’d watched it once before it reran itself, and you couldn’t hold back the bruising in your chest at the vision of your lover beating to death a man you trusted for decades.

Everything around you is collapsed debris, the smell of electricity and smoke plunging into your sinuses. Dust stirs with your every step and you glance around as a force pulls you towards the silo. Ground up cement and grey snow is still falling gently down and you look up to see the hatch closed before a scream tears your attention away.

Beneath the grate, you hear the wind howling, the sound of a repulsor firing. Shouting echoes through the silo. There is a whine of warning, the crunch of metal, and then blast. Your heart leaps into your throat and you glance around to see if there’s a quicker way to get down than merely jumping.

There isn’t.

You take a deep breath and jump to the ledge just opposite, lower than your starting point. The metal trembles beneath your feet and you freeze for a second as it stabilizes, and then jump again. There’s the sick hammering of metal, clunk, clunk, clunk, and you swallow a breath, glancing down at how far down the bottom is.

The clunking fades, and you steel yourself for the sensation of freefalling.

You don’t give a damn about however many feet are between you and the floor, and you jump. Only one thought is on your mind.

Tony. Tony’s in danger. Tony—

Your fingers wrap around the grip of your rifle, your knees bending at the shockwave of pain that rolls up your legs. Rolling onto your side, you feel your battered body nearly give in, your neck protesting violently at the sudden jerk of your head as something lands with a thud. Your mind is a whirlwind of scenarios, of what you’ll find, and you force yourself to continue the roll until you get onto our knees, whipping up the rifle without a second of hesitation.

“Stand down, now.” You don’t recognize your voice—harsh, flat, cold—as it echoes and escapes into the Siberian winds. Steve sits on top of Tony, his shield poised in the air as he stares openly at you in shock. Your godson looks at you in utter relief, his face bruised and gashed, bleeding. Bleeding.

Have you caused this outcome? Is this what you’ve done?

You have felt guilt before—it is something you have learned to live with—but this is different, seeing Tony no more than a little boy in the eyes, an anguish in his gaze that reminds you of the first time he asked you if Howard did love him. The memory alone makes your throat cinch shut.

Your back is screeching at the strain, but you merely aim your weapon steadily at Steve as you slide down the ramp. Your eyes barely lift off of his to the black mass laying still on the ground, and your heart nearly jumps out of your mouth when you see a glint of silver, the sparks of wires.

Eyes narrowed down your sight, you walk slowly until you stand right beside Steve, the gun muzzle pointed right at his temple. Steve’s audible pants rattle in your ear as you kick him off Tony, launching him against a sloped column with a painful gasp.

Crouching, you drop your gun and help Tony stand up. He holds back a groan with a clenched teeth. His arm, around your neck, pushes down to steady himself and you hoist him up as you pull him away from Steve. His armor clanks, his movements slow and dragging, and you inhale sharply as you watch Steve slowly get to his feet.

Wiping at blood that smears his cheek, he picks up the shield and begins to limp to Bucky. Tony lurches forward, and you can taste the anger in your mouth—sour, bitter with grief—as he yells himself hoarse and you barely hold him back as his words ring in your ears. 

“That shield doesn’t belong to you. You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!”

Tony lets out a painful gasp, pitching forward. Your hand presses against his chest, feeling the hum of the arc reactor as you push him back up, and you swallow at the hollow ring of the shield colliding with cement and stone. As Tony stumbles from one foot to another on the spot, you watch Steve pull Bucky up.

“So?” Steve asks quietly, and your eyebrows knit together as he turns to you for a moment. There is no animosity, just a blank look.

“So, what?” It is your turn to be angry. It’s a hot, raging thing that shoves up your esophagus, and your words spit hot. “You expect me to go with you after you tried to kill my family?”

“Bucky’s not going to be safe. We need to find a place for him to hide,” Steve murmurs, and the most incredulous laugh pries its way out of your mouth. You feel Tony’s glare weigh heavily at Steve, still too heartbroken to say any more than what he’s already said, and you glance at him, the image of his bloodied defeat printing itself into your head. “It’s going to be easier if you’re with us.” Bucky raises his head weakly, blood streaming down from his broken nose, and your heart splits at the soft glow of his eyes.

No, he seems to say, even through the pain of losing his arm. Don’t come. Even if it means we have to leave each other again. A sweat is starting to gather at his brow, and he’s still struggling to breathe, and as much as you want to run to him, you don’t. You hold Tony up just as Steve holds Bucky up, and you realize it then that you are a mirror image of Captain America. You will always choose the person who is somehow, and always will be, more important than the other, no matter the personal cost.

No matter the splintering of souls.

Please don’t make me choose.

I could never do that to you.

Your palms are sweating, your eyes trained, and your heart is wild in your throat as you whisper with a fury untamed. “How dare you make me choose between the son I chose and the man I love? How dare you bring this on us?”

“On us,” Steve repeats quietly, almost mockingly if not for the way his eyes seem to fall, if not for the way it all seems to pull him down then. “Yeah, this whole thing’s on us because you didn’t tell Tony either.”

Frigid waves crash down over you, extinguishing your rage as Tony stiffens, and you stare at Steve, shock blocking your ability to speak. Steve’s whole body caves inward, and then he turns away. Bucky’s eyes linger for as long as they can, a silent, loving apology, and you merely soak in his broken gaze before he’s trudging away. Your bones splinter under the weight of a world placed on your shoulders again.

There he walks away from you again, and you must play your waiting game.

Tony doesn’t ask questions until you’re both on the quinjet.

“So you knew?” he asks, his temper a quiet thing. It’s simmering beneath his skin and you grip the controls until your palms sweat. “How long?”

“Two years. I had my doubts since it happened, but he confirmed it two years ago after the spill in Washington.”

“Two years.”

“Tony—”

“So, you chose him anyway. When it mattered, you chose him.” Swiveling the chair, you stand up and look at Tony who you’ve patched up as well as he’d let you. His laceration isn’t stitched yet, but you’ve managed to tape the minor scratches shut, and he’s holding an ice pack to his swollen face. His bashed armor lays on the strategy table, and you glance at the hollow thing for a moment, trying to gather the right words.

“I just wanted to be selfish,” you admit quietly, looking at Tony again. He’s staring at you with wet, dark eyes, and you lower your head in shame. “I wanted to be happy.”

“No matter what it meant for the people around you?” he asks, and his words don’t need to be blunt or sharp for them to be harsh.

“I’m sorry.” You tentatively sit beside him, and you swallow. There is a distance between you and Tony that you don’t know how to cross. “I knew it then, and I know it now, that it was wrong, keeping it a secret from you, but I thought it was his story to tell, and he asked me not to say anything.”

“So, you chose him,” he concludes again, and you nod. You want to touch his shoulder, his knee, some kind of comforting pat but you know he will flinch away based on how coiled up his body is.

“I did, but I choose you now. And I promise I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Even if you hate me. Even if you never want to see me again. I can’t ever say how sorry I am that I kept this from you, and—” Blood tracks down his temple, a slow, languid trail that drives you crazy. You grab a clean, moist towel from the table and wring it between your hands, small droplets landing between your boots. You glance from the white cloth to Tony, who’s still quiet— “Tony, you’re still bleeding.” His eyes search your face, and you meet his despairingly. You’re hollow, chock full of what ifs.

“Growing up, you were the only person I talked to about everything,” he says quietly, and your eyebrows rise in surprise. His voice is dulled, near to breaking. “Not even J knew some of the stuff I told you. You just understood everything so easily, and I never understood why when I was little. It was when Mom and Dad died did I get why you could pinpoint how confused I felt, how hard it was. Because of him.”

He pauses to look at you, and you nod, your lips pressing together in a sorrowful smile. “Because of him.”

“You know, even when I was little, I used my Christmas and birthday wishes on you.”

“On me?” you repeat, your smile waning and growing again, and he nods earnestly, his lips pressed together in an effort to squish his tentative smile.

“I just wanted you to be happy like Dad used to say you were. Guess that meant the Sarge had to come back, so I asked Santa if I was extra nice, if he could bring people back from the dead. That was before Dad told me Santa wasn’t real, and that I was too old to be believing in those things, but I fell into the habit again after they died. You know, wishing for the dead to come back to life. Guess my wishes got mixed up between Santa and Satan.”

“I taught you that,” you whisper, and his smile, just barely, lights up his face at the memory. “I told you Santa and Satan were brothers and if you were naughty, Satan would come and eat you up.”

“Yeah.” He lowers his ice pack, hand reaching to wipe away the blood but you catch him before he does, offering the rag again. He merely leans forward and you smile, tinged with exhaustion. It was his way as a boy to tell you he wanted your hug, by putting his chin on any part of you and pouting like a puppy with those dark eyes. Except now, he merely closes his eyes and seeks the comfort of his mother.

A comfort you can’t give him, but you’ll damn well try to come close to.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Tony,” you whisper, gently swiping the blood away from his face. “I never wanted to do that.”

“I know.” Not forgiveness, not yet. “I just want you to be happy, auntie.”

“I know.” You gently rub his forehead before wrapping your other arm around him. His own snake around your waist and you embrace him tightly, eyes closing as he melts into you. “It’s okay.” His shoulders shudder beneath your palms, and you kiss his hair, eyes closing. You press your cheek against his skull. “When you’re ready, I’m gonna stitch you up, okay? Fix you up.” A shaky nod. You run your hand up and down his spine as he raises his head to suck in a lungful of cold air, and with Tony’s head on your shoulder, you wonder where Bucky is now.

You hope it is somewhere where he can rest, even if it means he never sees you again. Is this what you fought for? Killed for? Your peace only to be shattered by something out of your control?

Two years is better than nothing at all, a quiet voice tells you, and as you stitch Tony’s cut, you tell yourself you can be happy knowing he’s safe, but even that, you don’t know.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” your godson asks as you pull the final thread through. He’s been studying you rather intensely for the past fifteen minutes and you don’t answer. Cutting the thread, you clear your throat and put away your supplies, pulling off your gloves.

“I’m just thinking about what we’re going to do when we get home,” you reply lightly.

You can tell Tony doesn’t like your answer by the twitch of his lip but he doesn’t bother to pick a fight and picks up a handheld mirror you left next to him to check out his new stitches.

“A lot of cleanup with Ross,” he says, “and you probably don’t want to go to that psych facility.”

“I don’t.”

“Thought so. I can probably negotiate something about that, set you up with a personal psychiatrist. We’ll get you a room at the compound; it’s been a while since you were home.”

Your smile is tentative as you zip up your medicinal bag, and you narrow your eyes at the sunlight that streams through the windows. An outline of a city cast in gold is in the distance as you approach the pilot’s seat once again. You try to fight off the disappointment, the hurt. You always dreamed you’d come back here with Bucky one day.

“I won’t get mad at you for thinking about the man you love, auntie,” Tony whispers when you land at the compound, and you nod to yourself, closing your eyes at the memory of the last time you were in here, flying to Bucharest two years ago. Bucky’s gentle hand on your shoulder as he coaxed you into letting him take over. Tony kisses your cheek and you open your eyes as the ramp lowers, and you get up, shaking yourself of the memory.

Wherever Bucky is, you know one way or another your paths will cross again, whether you search for him or not, and the stirring in your restless soul tells you rather that it will be sooner rather than later.

[rynhaswritersblock]

tiktok famous (hc) - part three | p.p.

summary: you and peter doing various tiktok trends. y'all know the deal

warnings: ultra chaotic writing (i have nine other drafts forgive me i am a tad bit stressed), cussing as always, and HOPEFULLY GOOD WRITING??? oh and yes as always peter being Babey

+ + +

- HI!!!!!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE TIKTOK HCS!!!!!!!

- i got a few requests/ideas from y'all for more tiktoks so here we are

- tbh since so many new trends are constantly coming out i might just make this a whole ass SERIES but we'll see

- who knows if i can even handle that

- btw:: if i forgot one or there's one you really want me to write you can comment it and i'll try to add it to this!!! if it's too long since posted though i'll add it to my drafts <3

- OKAY TIME FOR CHAOTIC ENERGY

- as mentioned in past versions of this series

- tiktok dances are ADDICTIVE!!!

- and you literally broke a goddamn sweat learning supalonely but we're NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT IT

- and you and peter are hanging out one day

- and as all of these ideas happen

- you get ~inspired~ by the for you page

- you set up the camera, flipping it so that it's facing peter and not you

- the lil shit hasn't even noticed that you got up yet what a poop

- but as soon as the music starts playing he raises his head

- you're doing the supalonely dance like a fucking BOSS

- all while pretending to be looking at yourself in the camera

- you don't let yourself stare at the screen so you don't get distracted

- but

- of course

- peter is nodding his beat to the beat, clapping for you, and when you to the body roll thing on "drinking" he lets out a whoop that makes you wheeze

- when you finish you laugh, letting out a sigh and grabbing your phone

"not gonna lie, you ate that."

"i know."

- you sit back down next to him, heart rate in da Clouds, and start watching the video

- petey boi is just sitting there like a puppy, crooked smile on his face as he watches you

- in a few parts he's even doing the dance with you

- and he looks so in awe

- you can't stop watching it and smiling at the screen

- but then the fucker sits down next to you and is like "you should post that it was really good"

- so you show him it

- his face gets all red bc he's babey

"you were videoing me??"

- OKAY NEXT ONE

- so i think we all know the rosa videos

- for the b99 fans: rosa rosa rosaaaaaaaaaaaa

- she's a QUEEN

- and you constantly quote those things like

- every time there's a silent moment you're just like "you're fucking lying let me see" and the whole team (avengers squad) is like ayo stfu

- one day y'all are just hanging in the commons of headquarters

- we're getting the band back together!

- and you start videoing cause you're bored

- you point the camera at peter

"aye dude come here?"

- everybody groans and peter gives the camera a sassy look, tilting his head

"you're gay? i fuckin-"

"language," steve mutters

"-knew it dude!" you smile, zooming in on the camera

- peter gets a confused look on his face

"wait no i'm bi"

- tony effin SHOOTS UP

- sitting like there's a goddamn board in his back

- and he slowly turns his head in your direction

- eyebrow raised

- you bust out laughing and so does everyone else, including peter

- tony's looking around like "hey what the FUCK is HAPPENING"

"stark, you didn't know?"

"NO??"

- lol we stan bi peter parker

- aight BACK TO THE SHITS AND GIGGLES

- so you and peter are obsessed with that quirky tiktok bartender girl who makes all the drinks

- i forgot her name but she's like

we're gonna do 2 ounces so that's 1, 2, 3, 4! we're gonna give it a nice strain! andddd shake shake shake shake! fun, right?

- yk what i mean

- hi it's editing ryn it's her tiktok is like paradise bartender

- and so one day

- jk one NIGHT

- it's like 2 am

- and you and peter are like

- let's make lemonade. but like. Fake Alcohol Version Because We're Underage

- and so y'all run to the kitchen

- you almost crush and die from slipping on your socks

- the two of you and laughing and giggling as you run and around and get all your materials

"where is the fucking STRAINER"

"bitch idk help me find the lemon flavor packets"

- it takes FAR too long but y'all are finally ready

- you start recording and the two of you are already laughing

"hey guys so today-"

"TODAY" he pushes you to the side "we're gonna be making LEMONADE!"

- the two of you keep laughing as you shove each other trying to be the one in charge

- so basically

- peter gets water all over the counter

- some of the ice flies out when you shake it

- the strainer DOESN'T WORK AND ALL THE STUFF GETS EVERYWHERE

- and the small amount that lands in the cup tastes like whispering lemon

- like hella watered down there's like nothing there

- the lemon is SHY

- and then in the last 10 seconds of the video bucky walks in

- and he's like wtf... wait y'all are making lemonade??

- and the three of you end up making lemonade for real and drinking it while watching infomercials

- at two in the morning

- fun, right?

- those videos are so satisfying NEXT TIKTOK

- thank u ritxal for the idea !!

- so our boi PETE HERE

- is hella addicted to those cool pov videos

- and he gets a really good idea even though it would make him a SIMP

- he ends up deciding FUCK IT I'M MAKING ONE

- MY TIKTOK ACCOUNT IS PRIVATE ANYWAYS

- so he sets up his phone and jumps around to get ~~in the zone~~

- feeling stupid as hell

- he films one of those ones where it's the "from the other side" *noise!!!!!!!!* one's yk where the ppl are like "are you sure you want to __?" and it has the yes and no buttons

- you know

- i hope

- and he puts the text on it and shrugs, posting it

- meanwhile you're home and you get the notification that peter posted a tiktok

- obviously you click on it because

- uh

- because

- and you watch it and gasp because the caption says pov and ur like who tf is this man peter never posts povs

- you watch as peter is looking nervously at the camera and text pops up saying "are you sure you want to give up?"

- he presses yes and you're like oh god oh peter wait is this a sign shit FUCK

- a new text bubble pops up saying "do you want to see her?" and you fucking yeLP

- you're like holy FUCK WAIT WHO IS HER???? WIFE???? DAUGHTER?????? HUH!!!!!!!

- and then he presses yes

- and the screen goes black

- you see urself in the screen

- and you basically DIE

- a wheeze so hard that it hurts flies out of your mouth and you IMMEDIATELY PRESS DUET

- you start filming with your phone facing the ceiling and as the beat drops (or whatever when it's like ahhhh!) you pop onto the screen, smiling

- and you're like RANDOM CONFIDENCE BOOST WHATEVER POST

- and then BACK TO PETER'S PLACE

- HE GETS THE NOTIFICATION AND IS LIKE WHAT

- AND WHEN HE SEES YOU POP ONTO THE SCREEN HE'S LIKE HOLY FUCK

- AND SO HE FACETIMES YOU

- YOU ANSWER OBVI

"y/n what the hell"

"did you like it?"

"maybe"

- okay i wanna do another pov one so here we go

- i'm sure everyone here is acquainted with the "they call me tiago.. i don't know who's margo" ones

-  these are lowkey difficult to write out so i'm just gonna lay it out for you as best i can

- really trying here

- so peter posts the boy's voice part ("no no no... they call me tiago. i don't know who's margo? i just hit this lotto" etc etc etc)

- and when it's like idk who's margo he just holds a stare with the camera in like an InTiMiDaTiNg way

- even though he's babey and a literal puppy it actually like.. works

- and when you see it you're like yes so you post the other part (that people never do lol "her name is margo" etc all the female voicing)

- and you hold the stare too and EVEN LIKE RAISE YOUR EYEBROW SUGGESTIVELY AND GIVE HIM THE LOOK IYKYK

- so BASICALLY

- i'm really trying here i can visualize these tiktoks perfectly but GOD if i don't struggle a bit while writing them

PETER'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but you keep screwing with my plans so i try to intimidate you

Y/N'S CAPTION: pov: we're rivals on separate missions but i found you cute so i decide to mess around with your mission

- OH BY THE WAY THE TWO OF YOU LIVE AT AVENGERS HEADQUARTERS AND HE POSTED "YESTERDAY" SO YOU DECIDE TO POST "TODAY" AND WALK OUT OF YOUR ROOM TO WHERE HE WAS IN THE COMMONS RIGHT AFTER YOU POSTED

- can y'all tell how messy my brain is holy shit

- pls forgive me i keep getting random ideas but IT ADDS TO THE CHAOS SO IT'S FINE RIGHT

- OKAY

- BACK AGAIN

- so you post and walk out and as you turn the corner to the commons you can hear the sound play and have to stop a moment to silently scream

- thankfully no one else was in there except for peter (whose back was to you) otherwise you woulda looked INSANE

- you walk up behind him and smile as he laughs slightly and watches it another time, pulling his phone closer to his face to read the caption

"holy shit," he mutters

- he closes his eyes and smiles and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the couch (🥺)

"you like it?"

- lol

- this kid SHOOTS UP

- HELLO

"oh my god, y/n, what are you doing"

"coming to hang out with you??"

- he sighs as you come and plop down next to him

"what the hell is this"

- he shows you his phone

"a tiktok"

- he smiles and shakes his head (doing that thing where you like look down while doing it and it's so CUTE)

"yeah. i got that."

- NEXT TIKTOK

- alright guess the scenario

- just fucking guess

- i'll wait

- ...

- you'd best BELIEVE that y'all are chilling at headquarters in the commons rn

- where da HELL ELSE

- and

- like LITERALLY EVERY OTHER TIKTOK THAT I WRITE OUT IN THESE

- YOU AND PETE BE CHILLIN

- AND YOU SET UP YOUR PHONE

- god i'm starting to question if i'm capable of writing literally anything else damn

- peter's in the background of course

- and it's this godforsaken audio i'm sure most of you have heard

- you know the one where it's like fast music and then it goes "mm, yeah" and it's usually accompanied with a video of some really pretty girl fake moaning and like rolling her eyes while pushing up her hair??

- well

- all of that

- everything i just said

- is exactly what you do

- and the thing is

- as soon as peter hears the audio he recognizes it

- are we gonna talk about the fact that peter probably spent at least a whole night watching those videos because 1) girls are really pretty and 2) every time he heard it he could vividly imagine you doing it??????? no??? okay

- so he like

- sits up

- does the thing where he rests his forearms on his knees and leans forward, glaring at you through the camera

- and in the background

- if you're paying attention

- peter FLIPS HIS SHIT WHEN YOU DO THE "MM YEAH" PART

- he tHROWS HIS ARMS IN THE AIR LIKE WHAT THE HELL DUDE I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU SIGNS THAT EVEN THOUGH WE'RE NOT A COUPLE AND WE BOTH KNOW YOU LIVE YOUR LIFE OUT OF SPITE,, DOING SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON VIDEO IS ABSOLUTELY OFF LIMITS!!!!!!!

"Y/N!"

- it's still recording and you turn around and laugh, throwing your head back as he jumps up and grabs you by the waist, pulling you in

- the two of you start play fighting just like elio and oliver from cmbyn (but a bit less steamy yk?? more innocent yet still w a bit of tension yeye)

- needless to say you keep that video in a very special place of your heart

- and so does peter like once the two of you stop wrestling you realize that the video had just been looping behind the sound of your laughter and fighting y'all watch it and it loops a few times while the two of you are silent and he finally goes "can you uh. can you send that. to me. ???????"

- next oneeeeeeeeeeeeee

- thank u lilmissquackson for the idea <3

- so in this one you and petey are dating

- and y'all decide to do the put a finger down challenge lol

- but instead of using an audio y'all decide to switch off coming up with ones on the spot

"put a finger down if your boyfriend tackles you every time you're standing near a couch or bed"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend still calls you dude"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend once webbed you to the wall because you wouldn't stand still when he was trying to kiss you"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend used her telepathic powers to keep you out of her room when she was mad at you"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend took TWO YEARS TO ASK YOU OUT"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend started laughing after you told her you liked her"

"put a finger down if you only started laughing because it TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH"

"put a finger down if your girlfriend showed no signs of liking you before you decided to ask her out"

"put a finger down if your boyfriend is the most oblivious boy in the world"

"put a finger down if you're in love with your girlfriend but haven't said 'i love you' yet because you're scared she won't say it back"

- your jaw drops and turn to him

- needless to say you were very glad to have caught your first "i love you"s on camera

- SIDE NOTE you did not post cause after you and peter watched the video back y'all were both like "we don't wanna be THOSE bitches"

- next one woop

- thank u MrsLillianAmbrose for the idea !!

- okay buds

- so here's the thing

- i hate to under-perform

- but i feel like the best way to get the full effect of this tiktok is to watch it and then just roll with me here

- SOOOOO (if u can)

1) open tiktok 2) search @_tharealjohnnyyy_ 3) go to his account (or it might just show up when you search) 4) and scroll to the "ways to cuddle" video 5) it was posted in february 2020 if that helps give u a time reference lol

- OKAY

- I HOPE Y'ALL GOT TO WATCH IT

- I TRIED JUST PUTTING IT IN HERE BUT WATTPAD WOULDN'T LET ME AND I COULDN'T FIND IT ON YOUTUBE (let me know if one of u does!!!)

- if u weren't able to watch it (i'm so sorry) i'm gonna do the best i can to at least make this entertaining

- WOOP

- so if you could see the tiktok that's really all this is

- you and peter doing literally the same thing

- y'all are giggling in between positions and peter struggles to set the camera up every time it falls

- he ends up just webbing it to the ceiling

- and in the end the two of you fall asleep in the reverse OG position with your fingers playing with his hair 🥰🥰

- i hope that was good enough im sorry AH

- next!!

- thank u Mendesmycam for the idea <33

- okay so y'all know that sound

SOMETHING ABOUT YA GORLL

REALLY MAKES MY HEADDDD WANNA TWIRLLLLLLLLLL

- or whatever the lyrics are

- those tiktoks are SO FUNNY

- AND YOU DECIDE TO COPY THEM

- so you grab a chair and sit peter down in the middle of the room and set the camera up

- luckily for you he has a bag of cheez-its in hand that you plan to utilize later

- babey has a confused look on his face as he watches you press play and he shoves some more cheez-its in his mouth

- the music starts playing and you just about bust out laughing as you walk all around him, running your hand across his chest

- his heart is racing he's like AYO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOIN ON

"y/n what the hell are you-"

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU GIRL

- you practically snap into a weird position

- ur freaking arms are out in front of you and you're on your toes and knees are bent and you're hunched over and it's like

- a very interesting pose

- peter BUSTS OUT LAUGHING

- his eyes are all crinkly as he bends over in the chair

- you just about break but you manage to keep a straight face as you start dancing around weirdly

- needless to say you look like a goddamn CONTORTIONIST

- peter can't stop wheezing

- you make one of your hands in the shape of like the italian man hand this iykyk and fucking SWAN DIVE YOUR FINGERS INTO HIS CHEEZ-IT BAG

- meanwhile peter's STILL DYING

- and you take the cheezits and lean back, sprinkling them all over you (like the popcorn one if you saw that tiktok lmao)

- and the video finally ends and you get to laugh

"y/n what the hell was that"

"i don't know i thought you might enjoy a little entertainment"

- and of course

- that's exactly when no other than SAM WILSON fucking strolls in

- hey how y'all doin'- AHHH (get yo fucking dog bitch! ~it don't bite~ YES IT DO GET YO-)

- sorry got distracted

- and he hears you and his head SPINS ON OVER TO Y'ALL'S DIRECTION

"a little what now?"

- AIGHT GUYS

- LAST ONE

- Y'ALL ARE AT HEADQUARTERS CAUSE WHERE DA HECK ELSE

- this time you're in peter's room though

- and i'd like to imagine this one with the cool led lights because 1) tiktok and 2) i feel like peter would have those in his room

- y'all are just chilling watching hot rod (GREAT MOVIE BTW)

- and

- peter sets up the camera

- not to mention his heart is RACING RN CAUSE HE'S A NERVOUS BEAN

- and he hits record and leans back, letting out a sigh

- you don't even notice his phone literally right there cause you're just enjoying the movie

- a few seconds into the video and petey is like Visibly Freaking Out

- but a funny part plays and you laugh, looking over at him to see if he found it funny too

- he notices you're turning your head so he's like YES I LOOK AT TV HOT ROD MOVIE I AM LOOKING THAT WAY AND WASN'T STARING AT YOU OR THE CAMERA YES THIS IS A FUNNY PART I AM LAUGHING

- and then you look away

- and then he looks at you

- and ever so lightly grabs you by the chin

- and pulls you to him and plants his lips on yours

- finally, dumbass

+ + +

huzzah

i hope u guys enjoyed !!!!!!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

[bringingmetoneverland]

typed this out for a friend so i’ll copy and paste my EXO theory hereeeeeee

beware! long rambling, missing some chunks, probably more me going on tangents than anything:

my theory starts with the idea of a multiverse. This was reinforced not only in MAMA with the narrator in the beginning sharing a prophecy about the tree of life (2 worlds divided, etc.) but also in POWER MV as the narrator takes us through different EXO universes. In the POWER MV it seems as though you're able to pick whhich world to interact with. Everything was neatly divided once, with every world and universe having its own place.

HOWEVER, this multiverse is slowly breaking and colliding. The reason the mutliverse is breaking: solar and lunar eclipses (hinted at in their MVs since there's always an eclipse of some sort)

So the original MAMA prophecy spoke about a "red force coveting the tree of life" which EXO had born from and protecting. We see in the WOLF REMIX Stage EXO dancing with powerful movements in front of the tree of life. Their shadows are incorporated into the staging for--what all this time had seemed like the artistry of the stage. HOWEVER, knowing what we know of X-EXO existence, we need to look again at a specific moment in the choreography: https://youtu.be/jsKP4tZQExA?t=62  They had been fighting their own shadows--this could have been X-EXO.

Next--out of release order but in the continuity of my theory--there are the pathcode teasers which show EXO throughout OUR world. In all the teasers there is a natural phenomenon related to their powers that seems to be going out of control. At first we could have thought it was EXO against our world--trying to protect us--but we can now say it's X-EXO, especially since Baekhyun (light) had been chased through Lyon with the lights around him going dark. He should have been able to turn them on again, but couldn't. In the end he was cornered and eventually trapped by the darkness. We can assume this was X-EXO aka Baëkhyun. Pathcode led us to Lucky One: In this MV EXO is seen singing calmly while alos looking down on themselves being experimented on by women with red accents on their clothes. (aka workers for Red Force). In Lucky One, we see EXO and X-EXO together, EXO desperate to escape after having been captured (as evidenced by Pathcode) and eventually they are able to leave, though we are not sure who are the real EXO and who are X-EXO inflitrating. We can assume the following MVs had transpired while EXO was captured: Kokobop--EXO, while under the drugs and tests (in Lucky One MV, there is a deep blue injection central to the aesthetics of the video, and this blue is a frequent color-motif in the Kokobop MV as well), are reinvisioning their time on Earth and in all these different universes. Occasionally, the MV breaks with grainy--almost remembered--scenes of peace. this is reality breaking through the hallucination. (and the grainy filter is mimicked in Love Me Right, Tempo, Lucky One) Tempo--aka the one where we see X-EXO being sinful shits and EXO is LITERALLY RIGHT THERE TRAPPED IN THE WHITE CUBES BUT WE WERE TOO BUSY BABY GIRLING TO REALIZE. This is X-EXO testing out their abilities on Earth. Also the reason why X-EXO seems to be glitching. Electric Kiss--which is what what worlds look like when X-EXO rules. it is a desolate landscape with no sense and frequent oxymoronic juxtapositions. The world doesn't make sense and it is breaking into nothingness. Coming Over--possibly happened before Lucky One in which they tried to escape X-EXO and the Red Force. cameras are always watching and EXO is BREAKING THE SHIT OUT OF THEM CAUSE THEY AINT HERE TO BE SPIED ON. Unfortunately, they were captured after going to the elevator and the events of lucky one happen. Monster MV: In Monster we get the lyrics "creeping in your heart" which shows X-EXO trying to win over EXO-Ls (exol is the name of exo's fanbase) This is X-EXO trying to catch exols who represent the good in this world that x-exo is coveting (remember MAMA narration: red force coveting the Tree of Life, aka exo-Ls, aka LOVE). Monster MV is the start of the confusion as to who is who ON EARTH in this battle with X-EXO and the Red Force Next is LOTTO, where a girl is running--chased by two wolves (which can represent exo and xexo). There are two ways this MV can be taken:    First) this is X-EXO and they are further leading EXO-Ls astray in their coveting of the tree of life (remember chanyeol slips something to the girl at the end of the MV)    Second) this is EXO trying to hide and blend in with the mess of the world that XEXO created, hence why they are working within violent professions and gambling and why the world turned against them.  Love Shot can be the same time as Lotto as evidenced by the cards, money, and fire that are central to both MVs. We also see Xiumin and Baekhyun face off, pointing guns at each other. We do not know which of them is X-EXO or EXO, but (through another series of convoluted hints I am not going to share rn) we can deduce who is likely the real EXO member vs X-EXO. Finally, as I mentioned before, with Power MV the multiverse was confirmed. Baekhyun had been missing throughout the video until the end when he picks up a cat with a little "L" collar (the MV itself is v playful and runs like a goofy video game). when he picks up the cat there's some goofy eclipse thing that gives all of exo their powers back (they were fighting a robotic red force machine with guns). BUT after the eclipse/power return, something glitched and power!baekhyun fell through the sky into the water. The tone DRAMATICALLY shifts and in the accompanying comic books from this comeback baekhyun is floating in the water thinking, "something's been wrong. it's been wrong from the beginning." which circled us back to the tree of life, red force, MAMA narration.  tHERE’S STILL MORE TO SAY LIKE WHO IS BETRAYING WHO AND WHAT NOT BUT THIS WAS ALREADY LONG AS SHIT OKAY I GOTTA GO WORK ON MY OWN NOVELS NOW

[winecatsandpizza]

Bunker Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: NC-17

Tags: Angst, mentions of past physical and emotional abuse, nightmares, panic attacks, eventual fluffy smut, protective!Dean,

Betas: @winecatsandpizza and @kittenofdoomage

Word Count: 4,669

Written for: @bamby0304 ’s Triple Threat Challenge

Prompt’s - A1: “Do you trust me?”, B5: “I haven’t slept in four days.”, and C2: “Come here.”

A/N:  This is not my work. Jessy has asked me to post this on her behalf and I am doing so with her blessing and Amber’s acknowledgment on this.

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you ended it with Tyler and you still suffered from the aftershocks of the abuse. Even though your body and mind weren't subject to his fists or harsh words, you still felt worthless. Every day the memories of the torture you went through filled your mind.

The moment you met Sam and Dean in the shitty hole-in-the-wall bar, your personalities clicked. You needed a distraction and somewhere to live, and they needed help in their line of work. So when they offered to let you stay and help them hunt you agreed without hesitation.

Finally, things seemed to be looking up for you, or so you thought. Two weeks after moving into the Bunker, the nightmares started. These weren't just any run of the mill bad dreams either. No, in these dreams, Tyler was torturing and trying to kill you. The vividness left you screaming and crying in your sleep almost nightly. The nightmares plagued your mind every time you went the sleep.

Neither of the brothers said anything to you about it, so you tried to pretend everything was fine. It was one of the hardest things you've had to do if you were being honest with yourself. The physical training alone sometimes brought on a panic attack. Even though you knew Sam and Dean weren't trying to harm you, your mind was starting to become your biggest enemy.

You could tell they wanted to ask you about it, but they also knew that you weren’t one to talk about your past. The only thing you told them was that you and Tyler had a rough breakup. The thought made you laugh. Calling it a rough breakup was putting it very mildly.

The day before your first hunt went surprisingly well. You went the entire day without any panic attacks or a questioning glance from either of the Winchesters. Even though you couldn’t remember the last time you slept, it didn’t stop you from humming in the kitchen while you cooked everyone dinner. Not to mention the copious amounts of makeup you used to make yourself look less like a zombie. You made a mental note to get some more of the coverup you hid your dark circles with.

Sam rounded the corner as you filled everyone’s plates, one of his eyebrows raising quizzically.

“You’re extra happy tonight, Y/N.”

You shrugged and continued to hum as Dean joined you both at the table.

“Yeah, what’s gotten into you? You win the lotto or somethin’?”

You gave them both your signature eyeroll and took a pull of your beer.

“What? I can’t be in a good mood now?”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over at his brother before staring back at you, concern evident in his eyes.

“Of course you can, Y/N. Dean and I …  well, we’ve noticed that you’ve been having nightmares.”

Your eyes narrowed to thin slits. If this was their attempt to keep you from going on tomorrow’s hunt, then they had better think again.

“I’m. Fine.

You enunciated your words, making sure to look at both of them sternly. Sam scoffed and set his drink down.

“I don’t call it fine when you wake up almost every night screaming, Y/N”

All you wanted was one day, one day where you could just forget about the grim night that awaited you.

“They’re just dreams, and I’m going tomorrow no matter what. I’ve been training for this day for months, and a stupid nightmare isn’t going to bench me.”

The hostility in your voice caught them off guard, and you suddenly weren’t hungry anymore. You pushed the contents of your plate around with your fork, the awkward silence becoming more deafening by the second. Dean was the first to break it, his soothing tone of voice practically making you sick to your stomach. You knew they wanted you to stay home, and it pissed you off even more that your brain somewhat agreed with them.

“Look, Y/N, we just wa-”

You slammed your fists on the table cutting him off mid-sentence.

“ENOUGH! I’m not here to be your charity case! I came here to hunt, not for you to feel sorry for me!”

Before either of them could say anything you had stormed down the hallway to your room. Slamming the door for good measure, you finally let yourself unleash the angry tears you’d held back. You knew they were only trying to help, but being pitied didn’t sit with you well. You’d grown accustomed to it after being with Tyler for so many years, and it made you feel like everyone was hypersensitive to your feelings.

Once the tears stopped, you were left exhausted and feeling numb. Falling asleep right after an outburst would definitely bring on a nightmare, so you opted for a long hot shower instead. The moment the water cascaded over your skin you felt the stiffness in your muscles leave your body. You spent extra time massaging your scalp and even used your lavender soothing body wash to help calm your nerves.

Finally, in your pajamas, you slid beneath your covers and sighed deeply. Couldn’t you just have one day where you didn’t have someone worrying about you? Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, you turned the bedside light off and let yourself fall asleep.

Fear, raw fear coursed through your body as you ran. You’d just told Tyler you wanted to see other people and he’d tried to force himself on you so you’d stay. He pinned you against the wall, his breath reeked of stale beer as he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his lips made you shiver with disgust. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you raised your knee hard and fast hitting him right where it counted.

Tyler yelled in pain as you broke free, running as fast as you could to the door.

“Ow, FUCK! God Dammit, Y/N! Come back here you bitch!”

Cold air hit your face as you ran barefoot into the woods behind your home. Branches hit your exposed skin leaving little cuts in their wake. You could hear Tyler shouting after you as you found refuge behind a big tree trunk. Your chest heaved and you shivered as you tried to stay still and quiet.

Tyler’s footfalls and yelling became louder by the second, and you were sure he could hear the thundering of your heart. Just as you thought you were in the clear, strong arms boxed you in, the bark of the tree cut into your back as Tyler stared menacingly down at you.

“There you are… you pathetic little slut. You shouldn’t have done this, Y/N. You should have just come home like the good little bitch you are and kept that pretty little mouth shut.”

His fingers grazed your cheek briefly before his mouth was on your own, the taste of his tongue made you almost vomit.

“Now, we could have done it back at the house, but seeing as how you made a scene, I think I’ll just take you right here.”

You tried to push, shove, kick, anything to get him off you, but it was of no use. He began to forcefully rid you of your clothes, and all you could do was scream. Scream for anyone to help you.

“Stop! Please, Tyler!”

Sobs racked your body as he pawed roughly at your skin. You could feel him now, shaking you, calling your name.

“No! Just leave me alone!”

You bolted upright in your bed, a cool sheen of sweat covered your skin and the sheets. Dean knelt in front of you, concern etched in his features.

“Y/N! It’s okay! It’s me… it’s Dean.”

You blinked a few times before covering your face with your hands, tears of relief streaming down your cheeks.

“D-Dean… I’m… I’m s-sorry for waking you up. I… It was just another d-dream.”

You tried to sound confident between your sobs, but you knew he wouldn’t buy it. Hell, even you knew how pathetic you sounded. Ever so slowly Dean sat on the foot of your bed, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at you with worry in his eyes.

“C’mon now, Y/N. Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know that this is past the point of being “just dreams”. I want to help you, but you’re going to have to work with me here.”

Using the back of your hands to wipe the loose tears away, you finally got the courage to look at him. His eyes were soft, kind even. The lopsided smile he gave you was the moment you finally let your walls down. Dean was here to help you, not judge you.

“O-Okay… so umm… what do we do now? How do I stop dreaming of these… these horrible things?”

Dean started to move his thumb across your kneecap. In any other situation you’d be in a fit of laughter, but at a time like this, it was soothing.

“Do you trust me?”

Those four words made you swallow thickly. Trust wasn’t something you took lightly, and Dean knew that. Sam understood this too, but Dean was different. He could count on one hand the people he had full trust in.

“Yes, of course, I trust you, Dean. Believe me, I want these nightmares to stop just as much as you do if not more.”

He stood and held his hand out to you. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, but you took it anyway and let him lead you to his room. The Bunker was eerily quiet at night, but you knew you were safe. You stood at the threshold, watching him as he padded across the floor to his bed. Your cheeks flushed as he rid himself of his t-shirt, leaving him only in his low-hanging grey sweats. You never let yourself think about Sam or Dean this way before, but you weren’t a prude. Every woman who came in contact with them knew how attractive they were.

Dean cleared his throat bringing you back to reality.

“You comin’ sweetheart? I don’t bite...much.”

He winked, and you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but who were you kidding? You couldn’t share a bed with Dean. That would make things weird, and that’s the last thing you wanted to do. Nightmares or not, you weren’t going to jeopardize your friendship.

“Dean...I-I don’t think I can do this... I'm pretty worn out from crying so let’s just say we forget about this night and I’ll go back to my own bed… I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll just.. I’m gonna go…”

You turned to leave, but not before Dean caught your arm.

“Whoa whoa slow down, Y/N. What’s wrong? Is it because I took my shirt off? ‘Cause I can put it back on. I’m just used to sleeping without it on is all.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“No, it-It’s not that. I just… I don’t want this to ruin our friendship ya know? I don’t want things to get weird or anything.”

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“So, don’t let it get weird.”

His look went back to firm before he continued.

“Y/N, be honest with me. How long has it been since you slept, and I mean really slept?”

Your eyes went to your feet, your toe rubbing across a rough spot in the old floor.

“I umm… I haven’t slept in four days…”

A flash of concern laced his features as he pulled you back into his room.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

He pulled back his covers and got under them before patting the other side of the mattress invitingly.

“Come here, Y/N. You need sleep just as much as I do. I promise I won’t try anything with you. I mean, I’m a cuddler so, I might do that, but nothing else, I swear.”

You lowered your head in defeat and crossed the room before climbing into bed next to him. He carefully wrapped his arm around your waist, feeling you tense a little, before relaxing. Neither of you talked, but there really wasn’t any need too. You already felt more at ease in Dean’s arms. The smell of his shampoo and pheromones calmed you. Mere minutes later, his breathing evened out, and his light snoring filled your ears. Moments later, you were asleep yourself.

****

It became a routine that none of you spoke about. Every night, you would get ready for bed in your room and slip into Dean’s, silently climbed into bed beside him. True to his word, he was a cuddler but instead of the apprehension you’d expected at his touch, you only felt warmth and safety.

He was never inappropriate either. His hands stayed firmly in the safe zones, holding you around your middle if you decided that spooning was the position for you; his lower half was always carefully angled away when you woke up. If you slept curled into his side, he kept his hand on your shoulder or waist, never anywhere else.

The nightmares weren’t dispelled so easily. But being with Dean, they were normally stopped before they were over - he was a naturally light sleeper and the slightest twitch in your slumber had him waking you with gentle reassuring murmurs.

It was three weeks before your first night with no memories assaulting you. You woke with your face against Dean’s bare chest - you’d fallen asleep there the night before. His skin was warm under your cheek and you sighed, closing your eyes and allowing the haze of sleep to keep you still for a little longer.

“You slept well,” he muttered without opening his eyes and you smiled.

“No nightmares,” you whispered.

“Good.” Dean yawned, stretching his arms up. “I think I slept pretty well too.” The covers slipped down with his movement and you couldn’t help it; your eyes went south to the straining erection that was fighting against the elastic of his pajama pants.

His hand wasn’t fast enough to snatch the covers back up and when you raised your head to look at him, his face was beet red.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “s’morning and everything… y’know.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting his chest.

“It’s not,” Dean grunted, clutching the covers over his lap, “you didn’t want this to get weird.”

“You having a…” you swallowed, unsure how to phrase it, “an erection, isn’t weird. It’s perfectly natural.” With a shrug, you slid your eyes away from his, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’d say it’s a compliment.”

He blinked, processing what you’d said before his mouth set in a thin smile. “Can’t help what happens when I sleep next to a beautiful woman.”

You were sure your face was about to burst into flame and you giggled. “Now you’re making it weird,” Dean smirked - not one of those sarcastic expressions, more playful, devilish. The way you expected he’d look at a woman he wanted to - “Besides,” you added hurriedly, shifting a little way away from him, “I’m not your type.”

“Who says?” he challenged and you pulled back, frowning. Dean moved, pushing himself up with his arm. “You say you don’t wanna ruin our friendship but I can’t keep spending the night with you warm next to me and pretending I’m not craving you in every way possible.”

His declaration left you speechless - what were you supposed to even say to that?

Thank you?

Dean chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered and you were struck by the thought that no man should ever look that pretty when asking that question. With scruffy bed hair and sleep lines on his face, Dean managed to look like he’d fallen out of a GQ photo shoot.

Your reply, when you finally forced it out, was barely a squeak.

His lips were soft when they pressed against yours but you couldn’t relax. Your entire body was stiff with trepidation; you felt hot and cold all at once and it took only seconds for Dean to notice your tense posture.

Breaking away, he cupped your cheek, dragging his thumb down to rest on your chin, making your eyes meet his.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly.

The temptation to shut off, to not tell him anything, warred with the need to spill your illogical shame for what had happened. You knew Dean would never blame you but seeing the pity in his eyes would be unbearable.

But he deserved to know what he’d been protecting you from. At least, in part.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve,” you took a shuddering breath, dropping your chin away from his hand, “since I’ve been with anyone. And the last time wasn’t…” Your eyes closed and you tried to forget the rough touch on your skin.

Dean’s hand moved, resting on your hip and the warmth of his touch seeped into you, forcing you to look at him again, letting his gentle touch replace the horror from before. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you,” he coaxed, smiling softly. “I could never hurt you.”

What you feared most was nowhere to be found in his face. His sincere green gaze focused on you, filled with nothing but lust and affection.

You moved closer, startling him with a chaste kiss, your little moan swept away by his hum of appreciation and when he tugged you closer, you moved with him easily, losing yourself in the warmth of his skin.

Dean didn’t push, letting you set the pace and you were content with kissing, feeling his hands roam your body. You licked into his mouth, breaking only for air; you weren’t paying much attention to the way you pinned him back onto the bed, straddling his lap so you could kiss him and run your hands over his solid chest and stomach.

He laughed, arching when your fingers caught a ticklish spot, which only prompted you to do it again. “Quit it,” he chuckled, grabbing at your hands but keeping his touch light. Dragging your right hand to his lips, you sucked in a breath as he kissed each fingertip, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

He continued down over the palm of your hand, tracing the throb of your heartbeat to your wrist. By the time his soft lips reached the inside of your elbow, you were practically mush - before he could continue, you used your free hand to cup his face.

“Later,” you promised.

Dean’s eyes sparkled as you rolled your hips, reminding him of the erection straining at his pants. “Fuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back, “don’t do that.”

“Why?”

The tone of your voice had him narrowing his eyes at you. “Because if you do, I might not be able to help myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

Dean pushed himself up onto one hand, abruptly enough that you squeaked and giggled, smiling when he used the other hand to cup the back of your neck and draw you in for a deep kiss. “Do you want me as much as I want you, princess?” You nodded, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise, his nose squished against yours. “You know you can tell me to stop at any time, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, initiating another kiss, dragging your tongue over his. Shifting his weight so his back was straight, Dean’s hands landed on your hips, grinding you down harder against his cock. His fingers trailed up underneath the thin tank top you’d worn to bed; he groaned when his thumbs brushed the underside of your bare breasts.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the top up over your head, giving him full access to your breast and Dean leaned in, brushing his nose across the top of one breast. “You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmured and you smiled, folding your hands around the back of his head as he started to worship your tits with his tongue.

His cock was twitching against your core and Dean grunted, pushing one hand underneath the covers to shove his pants down.

“Sorry, it’s getting a little uncomfortable down there,” he joked, resuming his attention to your nipples and you gasped when his teeth grazed one solid peak teasingly. The sudden desire to feel his skin on yours was a full-body craving; you shifted and pushed at your shorts, managing to drag them down without dislodging him.

The sound Dean made when you were finally perched nude in his lap was only amplified when you pushed him back, using your feet to shove the covers down. His cock was warm and throbbing against your bare slit and you whimpered, grinding against him and he broke away from your breast, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Y/N -”

“Sssh,” you ordered, sliding down his body until you were straddling his thighs, wrapping one hand around his shaft before you could stop and think about it. Dean’s chin tilted up and the veins on his neck popped with the strained angle of his neck, a low moan accompanying the bob of his adam’s apple when you licked the tip of his cock.

He kept his hands at his sides, clenching them in the sheets, giving you all the room you needed. It wasn’t something you had an entirety of experience in but Dean seemed happy enough to let you explore, finding the sensitive spots at the base of his length. When you cupped his balls with your other hand and fondled them gently, Dean emitted a noise of pure lust and warmth swelled in your core in response.

Stroking him slowly, you watched a bead of precum seep from his slit; the urge to taste it was more than you could ignore. The salty tang was worth the way Dean’s entire body twitched and he looked down at you, tucking his chin into his chest.

“You know there are limits to torture, right?” he muttered, raising an eyebrow and you giggled, continuing to stroke him as he moaned under his breath. “Jeez, Y/N, you’re gonna… fuck…”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” you chided, your gaze fixed on the way his cock fit in your hand. Your fingers didn’t quite touch either side, not until you reached the slightly flared head and you suddenly wanted to know what it felt like to have him buried inside you.

The thought was enough to provoke a sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and Dean groaned as you rutted against him, barely acknowledging your own movement.

A tiny voice in the back of your head stilled your movements, doubt settling in the pit of your belly. Shouldn’t you be frightened of this? After… after him, there hadn’t been anyone and this felt like something that should be shaking you to the core. But all you could feel was pure adrenaline and desire pumping through your veins; everything was focused on the way Dean felt underneath you, the warm weight of his cock as you stroked him and the sounds of pleasure he was making.

“Dean,” you whispered, meeting his eyes, “I wanna fuck you.”

He muttered a curse, biting his bottom lip when you released his cock and crawled further up his body. There was no objection - Dean continued to let you set the pace. You lifted yourself, slipping two fingers between your thighs, sinking them into your body. “Y/N…” Dean muttered, covering your hand with his own, “let me.”

You nodded, letting him take over, whining when he pushed a single digit into you. Just one of his fingers felt bigger than your two, more calloused and filling. He pumped them a few times, smirking when you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, enjoying his slow touch.

All too soon, you grew impatient for more but before Dean could add a second finger, you tugged on his wrist. “Want you,” you pouted, leaning over to kiss away any protest he could make. Lifting your hips, you pinned his hands beside his head, smiling against his lips. “Stay.”

Dean obeyed, groaning when you slipped one hand down to grasp him again, lining his tip up with your soaked entrance. Lowering down onto him, you whined, lifting again when your body struggled to accept the intrusion. With a few more thrusts, you had him halfway inside and his body was shaking with the effort of holding back.

Lifting up once more, you pushed down, taking him to the hilt. The shock of being so full made you yelp and Dean’s hands were on your hips, holding you steady so you could adjust. “Gah,” you moaned, resting against his chest, “you’re… fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?” Dean teased and you pulled back, smiling. “Want me to put my hands back?”

You nodded, waiting for him to return his hands to the pillow before sliding your fingers up to lace them with his.

When you started to move, rocking gently on him, Dean closed his eyes, a low rumble in his chest letting you know that it felt good. The way he reacted made you a little bolder and you lifted yourself, letting him withdraw a few inches before taking him to the hilt again.

“Y/N…”

“What?” you asked, worried you’d done something wrong with the way he moaned your name.

His cheeks were a little red when he answered. “I’m close and you haven’t -”

“Oh,” you blinked, ceasing your movements, unsure what to do, “do you want me to stop?”

“God, no,” Dean chuckled. “I just wanna make sure you cum too.” The way he said it, his low throaty voice almost catching on the words, made you shudder and clench around him. “Sit up straight,” he instructed - you obeyed, a little puzzled until you felt how much deeper it let him be.

You moaned, circling your hips as Dean’s jaw clenched. Your lips parted in a little “o” when he responded with a slight thrust, one hand untangling from yours to hover over your mound, his thumb settling just above where his cock was inside you.

“That okay?” he asked and you nodded, squirming needily. Intense pleasure was on the edge of your senses, teasing you with the promise of climax but you craved more. Dean’s thumb traced your clit and a spark made your hips jerk. “That’s it,” he coaxed, “keep moving for me, baby.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you started to rock, much like how you had started. The throbbing inside you increased with each glide of his thumb over the sensitive bundles of nerves. Electricity ran through your veins prompting your head to fall back as you whimpered into orgasm.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” Dean murmured, his other hand on your hip now, guiding your rocking motion when you fell over the edge.

It was calmer than any orgasm you’d ever experience but possibly one of the best. Dean’s climax followed yours within seconds and he stopped touching you, letting you fall forward onto his chest, panting heavily.

Although you’d barely moved, you were sweating, exhausted and more sated that you’d ever felt. An overwhelming sense of calm swept through you; even though your legs were shaking with the effort of simply existing, you felt peaceful.

Eventually, Dean had to move, helping you clean up before he slipped back into bed with you. Neither of you spoke as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and drew you back against his chest, letting you curl into his side.

“Get some more sleep,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded, closing your eyes without a reply and letting the last ebbing waves of bliss carry you off.

*****

[astudyingreer]

The door of the convenience store opened and two figures walked in. 

One was tall, with groomed blonde hair and a commanding countenance. He wore all black, with a blue packpack over one shoulder, and the other hand in his pocket. The second figure stood behind him, the same height but slouching, wearing a dark hoodie with the hood up covering his face. He walked with a different kind of confidence, as if he was awaiting orders. Every single officer in the city police department would be able to recite this description by heart in about an hour.

Saevar walked up to the counter, flashing a winning smile through his gum to the college student who half asleep in a chair near the lottery tickets. He glanced up to the clock--almost 2:45 in the morning.

“You really shouldn’t be open this late,” he remarked. His accent was crisp and distinct.

The cashier shrugged unenthusiastically. “It’s a 24 hour store, I didn’t make the rules.”

The hooded one--Percy--wandered into the snack aisle and began to pull some chips off the shelf, piling them in one hand. The cashier glanced past Saevar to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is your friend okay?” he asked.

“He’s just fine.” Saevar leaned on elbow against the counter. He squinted his piercing cobalt eyes. “Listen. I don’t have a lot of dollars on me right now, and my friend is really, really hungry... Do you think you could just... give us all this stuff for free?”

The cashier snorted, sitting up a little in his chair. Despite his obvious suspicion, he was smiling with a strange easiness. “Dude, are you for real?”

Saevar smacked his gum, clearly unamused. “I’ve already spent five more minutes than I would like in this shithole,” he continued, drumming his fingers on the counter. His voice was chillingly smooth, cutting through the air. “You don’t want to upset me anymore, right?”

Saevar locked eyes with the college kid, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He couldn’t seem to hold the eye contact for long and looked down at his hands. “Uh, I don’t know man,” he said. There was a slight stammer in his words. “I can’t just give you all this stuff, you know? I need this job.”

“Of course, of course.” Saevar nodded sympathetically, then he straightened with a deep sigh and beckoned with his hand for the cashier to come closer. Reluctantly he obeyed, standing from his chair and walking up to the counter.

As soon as he had, Saevar’s nose scrunched in a scowl and his hand was around the cashier’s throat in an instant, slamming his head against the lotto display case beneath them. The kid gave a sputtering cry, reaching up to fight back, but his grip was too strong.

Saevar leaned down, supporting himself with his free hand on the counter as he pinned the kid to the counter. “I’m sure you won’t lose your job if they see you’ve been, ah... what is the word.” He snapped his fingers, eyes darting heavenward in thought. “Ah! Yes. Robbed. If you’ve been robbed. Because it really isn’t your fault isn’t it?”

The cashier only gasped for air, watching Saevar with wide frightened eyes. Behind them Percy had filled up his arms with snack food, pouring an open bag of Cheetos into his mouth with his free hand.

“This really wasn’t your fault, Dan,” Saevar purred, and the cashier whimpered in fear upon hearing his name. “You probably would have kept your job. But you really should have just listened to me.”

Percy walked up beside him, his empty eyes staring down at the poor cashier who stared back in terror. Slowly Percy wiped the crumbs off his face, opening his lips just enough for the cashier to see a strange black ooze beginning to pool in his mouth. It trickled down the corners of his lips as his mouth opened wider and his eyes grew colder, emptier...

The footage the police saw next would baffle them for months. The cashier, flailing and screaming against the counter for about six seconds before the first figure released him and he slid to the floor, motionless. The second figure wiped his mouth again, and the two left the convenience store.

[mycryptosuite]

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[thinkyoureholy]

A Woman Scorned [7]

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Pairing : Kim Jongin / Reader

Genre : Angst, Mature Language, Fluff, Smut

Words : 2.4k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Epilogue.

-Y/N's P.O.V-

As soon as I walked through the front door I removed my blazer, throwing it onto the couch aggressively. I started pacing back and forth, trying to reel in not only my anger but the overwhelming sense of despair that tried to wash over me. After so much time the first real conversation I had with Jongin was that? That was all he had to say for himself? Sure I hardly gave him a chance to speak over anything else but if he really wanted to apologize and make me believe it he should've tried harder. As much as I resented Jongin for everything my stupid self still held onto hope that the Jongin I fell in love with was still there but now I knew that he was long gone. The Jongin I saw just moments ago was a pathetic man. Seeing how much of a hold his grandfather still had on him pissed me off to no end but now it was Bora pulling the strings.

I scoffed at the mere thought of her, my hands balling up into fists at my sides. My mind flashed back to just fifteen minutes ago when I had made my way over to the podium to speak to everyone in the room. As my eyes scanned the room I saw her take a step closer to Jongin, her hand intertwining with his as she gave me a smirk. At the memory I grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be a vase. In my anger I brought my hand up, ready to throw it against the wall. However, before I could I felt someone grab the vase out of my hand. Minseok stood in front of me, the vase in one hand while the other held my wrist tightly. I blinked repeatedly for a few seconds, finally seeing through the clouds of anger as I realized where I was and who was around. Junmyeon was standing just a little ways from us, a concerned look on his face. I turned back to look at Minseok, a deep frown on his face. I sighed heavily, letting my shoulders sag as I let my anger dissipate.

“I'm sorry.”

At those words Junmyeon sighed as well, “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“You have every right to be angry but don't let your anger control you.” Minseok added, his grip on my wrist vanishing as he placed the vase back where it belonged, “Now what do you plan on doing next?”

“Tear the company down.” I said without hesitation.

“Are you really ready to displace that many people? There are at least five hundred employees working for Lotto Enterprises...are you sure you want to leave those people without a job?” Junmyeon asked.

I took a deep breath before exhaling, knowing my intentions were selfish but there wasn't enough decency in me to care, “Collateral damage. There's nothing I can do about it, it was bound to happen anyway.”

“You were right, you're not the same Y/N I knew.” Minseok muttered under his breath but I still heard him loud and clear.

I felt a sting in my heart at his words, my jaw setting as I spoke my next words, “You're still with me...right?”

Minseok took a few seconds to answer, finally letting a small smile play at his lips as he nodded, “Always.”

At his response I turned to Junmyeon expectantly. He reached out to caress the back of my head fondly, the same small smile on his face, “As long as we do everything within the boundaries of the law then I'm not going anywhere. I swore to you a year into your imprisonment that I'd stay by your side...and I don't intend on breaking that promise.”

I nodded at that, wrapping my arms around the two, “What would I do without the two of you?”

“Probably crash and burn.”

-

I inhaled deeply as I walked down the corridor, knowing all eyes were on me as I made my way over to my office. Though I wanted to have Minseok and Junmyeon here with me I know they had their own jobs to get to. I couldn’t just ask them to drop everything and come work at a company that will be gone within a few months. I couldn’t ask Minseok to just leave the cafe when he’s worked for the majority of his life to just open his own place. And Junmyeon...he studied for years to get into the top firm in the country, the fact that he even took on my case was too much to ask for. So with my head held high and my eyes set on the prize I opened the door to my new office.

It was minimally decorated; a desk sat at the far back along with a single chair behind it and a computer sat on top of the piece of furniture, a three seater couch lined the window along with a coffee table in the middle of the room. It wasn’t much but I didn’t really need too much anyway. I wasn’t planning on staying at this place for long, just enough to completely run it into the ground and ruin the lives of the ones that ruined mine. With a sigh I took off my coat, tossing it onto the couch carelessly. I walked over to the chair behind the desk and plopped down. Just as I got comfortable the door burst open, Junmyeon waltzing in. I stared at him wide eyed, watching a smirk play at the corners of his lips.

“Jun--what the hell are you doing here?” I asked in surprise, sitting up in my seat at seeing a familiar face.

“Well, you’re gonna need a financial advisor aren’t you?”

“I thought you weren’t an accountant?” I asked with a grin spreading across my face.

“Well I just became one so deal with it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I got up from my seat and walked over to him with my arms outstretched. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, feeling his chest rumble as he hugged me back just as tightly, the two of us beginning to sway from side to side.

“Thank you.” I said softly, pulling back from the hug.

He smiled softly, cupping the sides of my face gently, “Thank me by buying me a meal when the day is over.”

“Uh...no. I paid last time.”

He rolled his eyes but before he could say anything there was a knock on the door. Junmyeon took a step back as the door opened, his gaze darkening as his eyes met the eyes of the person that walked in. Jongin’s eyes only stayed on his for a minute before drifting over to meet mine. Junmyeon went to take a step towards Jongin, probably about to tell him he had no business being in my office but I stopped him before he could. I grabbed onto his jacket, holding him back and leaning over to whisper in his.

“Don’t. Just--let me handle it, you should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. What else is he gonna do? I’ve already been thrown in jail because of him.” I said, saying that last bit louder so Jongin could hear me.

Junmyeon simply nodded as he went to walk out of the room. As he passed Jongin he bumped his shoulder harshly against his. Jongin glared after him before slamming the door once he left. I turned my back on him, heading back to my desk and taking a seat. I kept my eyes on him, watching him fidget in his place before he walked over to my desk.

“We need to talk...properly this time.” He said, sounding like a man on a mission.

“Well talk while I’m being gracious enough to even listen to any of the bullshit that’s going to come out of your mouth.” I said in a harsh tone, sitting back and looking up at him.

“Can you drop the act? Please, I know you better than anyone-”

“You used to know me. The person that came out of that fucking prison is not the same person that first went in.” I said through gritted teeth, rising from my seat as my anger rose as well, “Now tell me what you want.”

“I want to explain everything to you.”

“Explain? What the hell is there to explain? Your grandfather had Bora plant that fucking envelope in my locker and framed me for stealing. I got two years in prison while you sat back and just watched me get convicted. Hell you even believed that I was the one that actually did it!” I said, my voice steadily rising as I walked over to stand in front of him instead of having the desk in between the two of us, “Oh and to top it all off you even got engaged to the fucking bitch that planned all this with your grandfather. So tell me what else is there to explain?”

“I only got engaged to her because of my grandfather.” He said in a low tone, hie eyes on the floor.

“So even in death your grandfather is still controlling you like a damned puppet. Do you not have your own thoughts? Do you-”

“Just listen to me without fucking interrupting me!” He yelled, taking a step closer to me, “If I would’ve known how damn insufferable you were I wouldn’t have begged my grandfather to get you out of jail days after you were sent in.”

“Yeah you’re right I am insufferable. I’m tired of people like you walking over others because they are below you. I’m tired of being shot down because my words mean nothing to you people. I spent two years of my life in prison, two years I will never get back because I wasn’t of the same social class. So now that I am you want to fucking make things right? Now that I have the power to ruin everything you and your grandfather worked for? I’m not having it.”

I was breathing heavily by the time I had finished talking, probably red in the face. Jongin looked just as angry at my words, his jaw tense as his hands had balled up into fists at his sides. I wanted to get him riled up. I wanted to throw all this shit in his face so he had at least and inkling to everything I have been through since the moment I met him. I wanted him to feel my hatred through my words and actions and that I will never, never forgive him for the shit his grandfather has done and the way he just sat back and let it happen.

“The Y/N you knew is long dead and apparently so is the Jongin I knew. The Jongin I knew wouldn’t get married to someone he didn’t love. The Jongin I knew would’ve stood up for his girlfriend. The Jongin I loved two years ago wouldn’t have been swayed by words and would’ve believed me and stuck by my side.” I said shoving at his chest with each sentence, “But I never really knew the real you did I?”

“Everything I ever told you was the nothing but the truth. I would’ve fought for you if it was anyone but my grandfather.” He argued back, his eyes showing how frustrated he was with everything.

“And that’s where you failed. If you really loved me as much as you claimed to you would’ve fought even against your own grandfather. Even if you had lost that battle I wouldn’t have hated you as much as I do in this very moment.” I said in the coldest tone I could manage, watching the hurt flash in his eyes.

“I was a fool to think I could ever make things right with you,” He muttered under his breath, disappointment clear in his face.

And as he let those words fall from his mouth he turned on his heel and walked out of my office, leaving me to my own anger. I let out a groan of irritation, looking for something to let out my anger on. So I let my anger out on the one person that deserved to be on the receiving end. I sat down in my seat, dialing the number of the secretary on the floor, practically fuming as I waited for her to answer. She took a few seconds but when she finally answered I didn’t even bother with a greeting,

“Send Yoo Bora to my office immediately.” I said before hanging up.

I balled my hands up into fists, slamming them roughly against the table. It took quite awhile for her to arrive. I knew she was dragging the time since she was only at the other end of the room. It took her exactly five minutes to get to my office when it should’ve only taken her less than one. I used this as an excuse to be extra hard on her. She knocked on the door twice before opening it, coming to stand in front of my desk. She offered no greeting or bow as she stood in front of my without saying a word and just waited for me to speak up.

“Move all your things to the desk designated for my assistant.”

“What?” She asked, completely shocked by my words.

“I want you to be my assistant.” I said with a devilish smile pulling at the corners of my lips.

“I’m already Jongin’s assistant, find another one. ” She said in an arrogant tone, turning around and heading to the door.

“You either do it or you’re fired.”

At hearing that she froze, his hand gripping the door handle tightly, “You can’t fucking fire me.”

And for the second time today I rose from my seat, slowing walking over to her, “I can and I will. You still thing Jongin’s in charge around here but you’re wrong, I am. I own eighty percent of this company and what I say goes.”

“I see you’ve finally decided show your true self. I always knew you were this big of a bitch.” She hissed out with all the venom she could muster.

“I’m not the only one. You’ve been a snake from day one and I’m going to make your life a living hell before I finally get rid of you. Now, move your fucking things.”

[stusbunker]

Known: Topside Turvy

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female OC, Dean x Demon!Reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: I have included dates relevant to air dates for reference points. I try not to repeat information you already know, but please ask if something doesn’t make sense! xoxo Stu

Warnings: Torture, captivity, demons, Possession, necromancy, corpse disposal/ desecration, murder, eating raw beef, autopsies, animal death, angel kills, show level violence, Slow Burn. More warnings to come. Each Chapter will have its own warnings, because I am generous like that.

Earth Date: April 18, 2013

Location: Hell, and its Earth-level operations

The king knew the Winchesters were interfering with his domain; all too soon his rage reverberated throughout every corner of Hell. Your pacifism had somehow gone unseen, leaving you to ponder their motivations in silence as you focused your energy to quell your panic over betraying the crown. Crowley worked in secret with the kidnapped prophet under the strictest of security. Today the rumors started: he decided to use a new angle to break the petulant former honor student. The king of Hell was holding a casting call. Any demon who thought they had the chops to portray the Winchesters well enough to coax information out of the paranoid prophet. ‘Potential side parts available, real talent only apply.’

Curiosity got the best of you, after a few hours you tracked down the where and when. Upon breaching the portal to Earth, you had to recite your resume and why you thought yourself qualified to audition for the challenge.

“I was tortured by Dean Winchester.” You said it plainly, as if it was a long-forgotten past, and not a constant pining at the base of your every thought.

“When were you on Earth last?” the first gatekeeper asked, unimpressed.

“He tortured me here, before my, evolution,” You used your hands, hoping your point got across. When his dead eyes blinked back, you added. “Under Alistair’s tutelage?”

“Line B,” he nodded behind him. “Follow the stairs to the vessels. The boss wants us all in meat suits for the glamor to work.”

As you found the appropriate entry gate, you shuffled along the slight incline of the dusty floor. You had yet to find anyone ahead of you in your assigned queue. As the despair began to dissipate, you knew you had left the true confines of Hell behind. The magical bindings along the fences kept you weak, unable to flee and the atmosphere slowly softened your membrane sublimating you into a shapeless cloud. The Den of Bodies reeked of fresh death, human forms deposited like unwanted toys, empty from either recent possession or the tinny aftertaste of necromancy.

You soon found a male form close to Dean’s height and followed the cramped line illuminated with an icy blue letter “B”. Slowly you adjusted to the feel and weight of the vessel, it was hollow and odiferous in a way a corpse could only be. Walking came quickly and as you rounded the next bend you eventually found the demon ahead of you in the line, which thrice wrapped around a broad chamber. Within the darkened space more servants in human skin were transforming the old warehouse into a mirage of a crumby tugboat in a forgotten American freshwater harbor. Suddenly a fresh panic overtook you. Besides the very slim possibility of being transfigured into the man that was the focus of your emotions for centuries, what were you doing here?

In the end, you improvised. You didn’t make it passed the first round of auditions, didn’t even get a chance to perform for the king himself. But that didn’t stop you from observing the surveillance goons’ schedules and precisely orchestrated operation during the days you waited in line. On a whim, after your second rejection, you hung back and hid in the Wardrobe Department like a forgotten costume change. It was the quietest space you had occupied in decades, content to wait out the auditions like a rat waiting for the carnival to close.

And what a closing night; first they sent the last of the surviving actors back downstairs. All but one of the staggered portals sealed and secured by patrols. Since the Wardrobe Den was on this side of the portals, but out of the way of their duties, it was the last thing searched. So, when you heard voices whimpering about clean up detail; you got creative. Standing you dragged a body by its feet to the top of the heap.

“Wait, I thought we were on body dispersal?” A confused elderly Asian suited demon complained.

“I got sent from deliveries, figured we would take a handful so as not to draw attention once we are done with the project,” You shrugged, grabbing another body to stack.

“Whatever, man, let’s just fry the ones we need to before the boss comes back?” The first demon’s lanky partner bought your story, helping you even out the third body on your pile. You swung around, pulling the collected stack of bodies back the way they came, hoping to find a true Exit to the outside world. There was a goddamn sign, green like toxic ooze, lighting your way. The slow trudge of dragging bodies alleviated as you found an old dolly on the wings of a loading dock.

“What are you doing?” A demon with a security uniform on asked as you plopped the last lifeless corpse on to the metal cart.

“Hiding bodies, what does it look like I’m doing?” You sighed, breathing in the outside air for the first time in a century, so close to freedom you could taste it. An unraveling sense of possibility exploded among your thoughts.

“Okay, on your way, grab some Pad Thai? The golden boy in there is getting pretty obscure with his food requests. We got another truck handling the rest of the laundry list.” He handed you a scrawled-on shred of paper. You took the assignment in slight disbelief as a dubious grin broke onto your vessel’s face. Could demons get any stupider?

Earth date: April 21, 2013

Location: Janesville, CA

It was oddly damp and cool, but out in the open the afternoon sun gave off such warmth you would have stayed out until sunset. The dead man you had been wearing since Hell had caused some trouble and you were in the market for a new ensemble as you strolled down the gravel drive toward the ramshackle homestead, just enjoying the spring day. The bull had sensed you coming, an agonizing moan tore through its massive throat before it sunk to the ground. Its fear was the dinner bell, you quickly hopped the pasture fence to play with the anguished creature.

A shotgun blast shot out in warning behind you, the old farmer calling out as he approached, “Get back now!”

The beast’s blood had soaked the dirt beneath your knees, your hands and face caked with the sticky liquid. The knowledge that this was its true death and that it had happened at your hands flowed through you, an unbridled power. The muffled shriek that came from the man’s mouth as you spun to face him was icing on the cake. You quickly approached him, the urine snaked down his jeans and on to his shaking legs. He couldn’t form words before his heart gave out with your tendon-riddled smile. You left him for his Reaper and marched to his backdoor.

“Was that really necessary Harold!” The old woman bellowed from the next room. “I swear I need to hide that gun, with your eye sight,” her voice trailed off as she looked up to see all the blood-soaked six feet of your vessel in the door way. She crossed herself, before you smoked out of the mess and into her praying throat. Hopefully, you had caused enough mayhem for those pesky little hunters to start poking their noses around.

You cleared her throat and went for the phone, dialing the emergency line. “Yes? Hello? Oh god, this man attacked Simon, and now I think Harold’s had a heart attack. Please, send help—” You waited on the line, frantically trying to give the dispatcher the details. Before the sirens were on the horizon, you walked your old vessel back out to the pasture and planted two solid blasts to the body. Your short stay in the old woman had given her quite the headache and she quickly passed out beside the telephone. You jumped into Harold before he was loaded into the back of the ambulance and taken to the county coroner.

Earth date: April 23, 2013 (Just before Pac Man Fever)

Location: Lassen County Government Office, Susanville, CA

Chloe Collins tightened the belt of her trench coat, realizing it would be too warm to use soon. Her etched blade rested carefully on her belt, hidden yet accessible in its personalized leather sheath. She checked her watch before taking another sip of her gas station coffee-hodge-podge of regular Colombian roast cut with their water and powder cappuccino concentrate. She was waiting on Roger or Geoff, not sure who would draw the short straw, and therefore would have to put forth some effort in the appearance department. While the other got lucky and was due to be scoping out the cleared crime scene. She hadn’t slept in two days when the omens came up on the radar. She had gotten into town early the night before, allowing her some rest before back-up or county offices were ready for her.

She was giving Geoff/ Roger ten more minutes, or she was going in alone, slackers. When her phone rang, she didn’t even check the caller ID. “If you are going to bail, save it, I would have been done here if I wasn’t waiting on you two.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Cease,” a rich baritone replied. She froze and pulled her face away to check her guess.

“Yup, just did the assumption ass thing, whatcha need Winchester?” She leaned back against the driver’s side door of her pick up as she listened to his very detailed request. “If you had a prophet all this time, how come you didn’t share some winning lotto numbers?”

She heard the exhaustion over the phone, the snark was to draw out the conversation as Roger had finally shown up. CC relished in making him listen to her side of the line as he stewed in apologetic, if not awkward intrusion.

“Nah, not that kind of prophet, think decoder ring. Anyway, you see anything or if you get a demon talking, send a line. Alright?” Dean wrapped up his request.

“Alright. Take care.”

“Yeah, you too.” He ended a little too sadly.

CC slid the phone into her pocket to smile innocently at Roger. “Since you’re late, you get body duty, I’m going to catch up with the Sheriff.” He rolled his eyes and nodded, letting her lead the way.

The refrigerator was nearly empty when they slid the body of the old man you rode into the middle row, chest height for easy access. You were fascinated by the vivisection and organ removal, leaving the doctor to do his job. The Sheriff was friendly despite being extremely uneasy about the details of the case. You had to hold back from giving him the scare of his life more times than you could count. “Psychopaths are bad for PR,” you heard as the evidence was verified and files were exchanged. Now, in the cold and the dark you waited, hoping you had hit all the neon warning lights that would bring somebody useful within arms’ reach.

The coroner began muttering under his breath, something about the Feds and not having time for this. He quickly brought out the focus of the investigation, the body of your escape vessel that had been dead for weeks when it mutilated a prized bull and took two blasts to the torso. Another man’s voice began asking questions, weird substances and oddities in the coroner’s findings.

“Yeah, you know what, I haven’t gotten it sent out yet, but his ears were lined with this powder,” there was scraping and shuffling before he handed the vial to the investigator. “Besides the whole, eating a cow raw thing, that was weird.”

“Right.” The stranger listened as the coroner read all the medical jargon from the report back to him. “Thanks, Doc, I think I will just check the other body quickly while I wait for my partner to finish up with the Sheriff.”

“Harold Simmons, not much weird there, poor guy,” the door opened, and you felt the tray jostle the stiff that you were squatting in. Resisting the urge to tear open the eyelids and treat both the men to their own wet shorts, you laid still, waiting for the hunter to show his true colors. The funny thing about Hell was that it hadn’t taught you how gullible and disposable humans were. The constant torture and regeneration of the soul made any act possible, but back on Earth a hang nail could practically do them in. You had yet to perfect the art of handling them properly, your own strength and distaste winning over patience and inconspicuousness. When the coroner finally shut the door behind him, the hunter dug the vial of sulfur from his pocket, cracking the safety seal and sniffing away like any asinine teenager in chemistry class.

“Blech, should have known.” Roger capped the sample and put it back among the doctor’s collected evidence on a cart.

“You know, you don’t smell like daisies either,” you replied, sniffing the air haughtily from your seat on the metal rack.

The hunter balked at you before throwing a baggie of salt at your face. The slight residue on the exterior of the plastic seal smarted, but the contents remained secure as the bag bounced off the grizzled jaw of your meatsuit and fell to the floor. You jumped from your perch at the man who was know fumbling with his phone and aiming a useless handgun at your head. You sighed, reaching out and snapping his wrist effectively liberating his weapon. He cried out, a whimper more than scream.

“Now, I don’t have to kill you,” you crooned, sliding the barrel of the gun along his jaw, “just want to talk. I was hoping some of your kind would come sniffing around.”

“I ain’t gonna talk, man, I don’t make deals,” He groaned, rocking his shatter joint on his chest. Well, he was playing tougher than you gave him credit for, which just made it more exciting.

“Oh, no, honey, I’m not here to upsell you for the soul suite of your choice,” you bent over, cold skin flush against his greasy forehead, instantly he kicked away, disgusted. A guttural laugh broke from the old man, lungs that weren’t, wheezing with the effort. “No, but how ‘bout you tell me about them Winchester boys, eh?” The toothless mouth loose with a hapless grin.

Just as you finished whispering a flash of metal caught your eye, a spell blade slashed against the sinewy forearm of your vessel as you spun to face your attacker. The flesh bubbled, the air soon filled with it. Now this was a hunter, she was crouched down, her weapon rolling between her fingers as she circled you for another opening. You had lost the gun in the distraction before her arrival. Her hair was pinned back, but it was dark and coarse, her professional full-length coat floating behind her like a cape. She tried signaling her partner, but you kicked the gun out of reach of his good hand.

You taunted her, “Look-y here boys, the big girl is bringing the hurt. Fancy blade you got there, where’d you get something like that? Two for one deal? The coat and the dagger free with purchase?”

“I fucking hate mouthy demons,” she snipped through clenched teeth.

“CC!” The man bellowed, he had left his path for the gun, instead going back to the forgotten sack of saline. The bag flew through the air and just as she caught it, you ejected from the dead man’s jaw and into the air, you aimed for the injured man in hopes to play on the woman’s sympathies. But he was somehow warded. Frustrated, you snaked back, finding her throat much more accommodating. Being inside a living vessel was like jumping onto a moving train, her thoughts and instincts fighting every piece of your presence and prodding.

“CC? Can you hear me?” All the color had drained from Roger’s face as she shuddered underneath your weight.

“My knife, Rog,” she stammered, she sure was strong. You stood frozen, willing her to grab her gun and put five rounds through the back of his skull, to scream for the Sheriff, to do a twostep; the bitch wouldn’t budge. You roamed her memories, floating through the day at the farm with the Sheriff, her annoyance that the man she was working with was late, a phone call about a prophet. Kevin Tran. A request from an old friend, a mutual acquaintance as it were. You were stopped before you could go deeper, a sharp jab of iron to her thigh shot you right back out of her tense jaw.

Fascinated and annoyed, you disappeared out of the open door and into the hallway that ran the length of the municipal building. You dove into a spherical clerk who was overseeing marriage licenses and stayed put.

“What the hell was that?!” Roger screeched.

“That,” CC panted, “was a demon, dumb ass.” She kissed the iron face of her trusty knife as it had just saved her from being a sulfur buffed surfboard. CC stood, helping the gangly man to his feet. After quickly realizing how impossible it would be to find the demon among the building full of office staff and deputies. They, instead, cooperated to ease the vacated corpse back onto the gurney-like bed he had sprang from. They worked quickly, not wanting to bring any more suspicions to the small town’s doorstep.

After a day next to the police scanner while cruising the simple farm highways in either direction, Roger, Geoff and Chloe called it a night. They would stay up in shifts, salt lining the door and windows, waiting for the murderous damnation to leave a trail of bodies. It was three days without any sign or circumstance that would warrant further investigation. They had lost it, best to move on and pray a better hunter faced it next.

The orthopedic lifts in the rubber soled shoes rubbed mercilessly against the woman’s high arches as she shuffled down the frontage road to the outdated pick up truck. She was sticky with sweat, and the dry air didn’t help her breathing. Her thin top clung to the lumps and rolls as she waddled along, hoping she would catch the Federal Agents before they left town. She had no idea how she knew where they were staying or why she needed to see them, but she hurried all the same. At the tarnished number twelve she stopped, chest heaving and permed hair clinging to her temples. She raised her doughy hand to knock when the door swung back, a gun level with her face as she lost her voice, “Don’t shoot!” came later as her eyes clamped shut and her hands raised in surrender.

“What do you want?” The female agent spat, lowering the weapon into the back of a pair of jeans, the large leather knife case obvious on her hip.

“Just wanted to stop you before you left, my name is Darlene Woods, I work at the Sheriff’s office.” The older woman’s voice was shrill and persistent. “Now, why did I come all the way here?” the woman held her hand to her mouth, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do you need me to call someone for you? Ms. Woods? Is everything alright?” Chloe Collins rested against the motel room door, worry for the older woman only slightly overtaking her paranoia.

“Just give me a minute, dear,” Darlene looked at the ground, her hands on her hips as if her memory would surrender to her grimace. “Oh, silly me, I remember!”

And she smiled with a darkness in her eyes that Chloe knew all too well.

Earth date: April 30, 2013

Location: Albuquerque, New Mexico

She had been heading East on nothing but a hunch, the news stories and tips fading to white noise as she let the mile markers lead her onward. Chloe sat at the Biggersons’ counter nursing her second coffee refill. She could have asked for a box for her leftover lunch, but she was going to hit the road anyway, might as well eat as much as she could because it was who knows how long until her next stop. There was an ironic rebellion to her giving the monstrous restaurant chain her business, since they had been slowly poisoning a third of America not a year earlier while the Leviathans roamed free. One more monster invasion she had survived and now lived to enjoy their sweet potato fries another day.

Her waitress stormed out of the backroom in sobs, the entire room quieted as her predicament spread throughout the dinning area.

“Margie!” The manager chased after her from the kitchen, his face worried with a mix of personal pain.

Just then the televisions all changed to a live news broadcast, the sister franchise in flames in Santa Fe. CC watched the wreckage as the drama from the backroom became clear. Just as the news shot panned out in order to get the reporter back in the shot, she caught it: a mysterious figure amongst the flames. A tiny voice in the back of her head told her to ignore it, that it wasn’t worth her time. She promptly ignored the voice, bemusedly noting that the next leg of her trek would be much shorter than she originally thought.

CC left two twenties under her saucer and shrugged into her suede leather coat. Some days a generous tip was all it took to turn a server’s day around and Chloe had more money than time.

*^*

Next Chapter: Crowley and the Queen