#the warehouse is gone and everything hurts

[downfallofi]

Today at work (second week) was the first day of this new venture that was arguably a net bad, and I don't want to just run, bail, quit back and see if I can beg for a job that was impacting my mental health back, but there was enough in being yelled at because I backed up wrong when I'm used to USING a back-up camera, the fucking Luddite training me in driving this absurdly large and expensive sprinter van doesn't "believe in technology" and switched off the back-up camera, and now he's gotta problem. Oh yeah and by the way we just drive to Portland tomorrow to make a delivery of A HUNDRED bundles of stakes, which, when they were delivered to us by FedEx for tomorrow's order, Rich left me to sort and palletize mydamnself. And it's fine, this is just warehouse stuff, but like I just at dinner gave a bare-bones answer of like work was busy and I moved, well, a hundred bundles of wood by myself today with no help and my sister started in with You need to get back in school, you need to get your bachelors and move up because you will just get exploited until you do that has me feeling... Hopeless?

[holylulusworld]

Caught Cold - Alternative version

Summary: Something goes wrong on your latest mission.

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Written for @buckybarnesevents “Hot Bucky Summer” - Week 6 - “I won’t be able to stop myself. + Sex Pollen + Gone feral + Fuck or die

Read the alternative version here: Caught Cold. Please consider, the beginning of the story is the same as its alternative version.

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, chasing, sex pollen, smut, unprotected sex, mating bites, I’ll label this one dub-con due to sex pollen

A white mist fills the room after you drop one of the vials you found at the old warehouse. You curse yourself, already hearing Bucky nag. He’s not a big fan of you, especially because you are an omega. If you just screwed this mission up, you won’t hear the end of it.

Bucky holds up his right hand. “AGENT Y/L/N, no! What did you do?“ There’s something in his voice you’ve never heard before. Panic, fear, even. “We gotta get out of here.”

He covers his mouth and nose with his gloved hand. “OUT!”

“Out?” You look around the room. Everything was normal a few seconds ago, and now the former Winter Soldier looks like he saw a ghost. “Sergeant, we have our orders. Captain Rogers wants us to secure the information.”

“OUT!” It’s more of a growl than a word. Bucky takes one step toward you, still covering his mouth. “Y/N, stop talking back for once. We need to…”

His whole body suddenly sizes up. The strong and undefeatable super-soldier falls to his knees. He slams his fists into the ground.

“Sergeant?” You step away from him. Bucky is a little broody, grumpy even. But the man kneeling on the ground stares up at you with glowing eyes. “Sergeant Barnes?” Now you panic. He slams his metal fist into the ground. “You’re scaring me.”

“You…” He growls deep and guttural. “You need to run. Go now.” Bucky seems to fight with an invisible force. He rams his fist into the ground to keep himself from getting back up.

“Why?” You are panicking now. “Sergeant? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I can smell your pussy,” he snarls in your direction.

“What?” You drop your eyes to your crotch. Can he really smell that his closeness arouses you? You heard that alphas could smell when you are fertile, but can he smell your slick too? "Sergeant, we can’t leave. Why do you want to leave?”

“I won���t be able to stop myself.” Bucky groans loudly as he rams his metal fist into the ground again. “OMEGA!” He purrs low in his throat.

“Oh. God.” You step back, shaking your head, when he gets back on his feet. Bucky cracks his neck and flexes his metal arm. He stares at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“RUN!” It’s the last warning you’ll get. Bucky is close to losing his mind. His alpha is taking over, and there is no rational thought left.

You finally set things into motion and run out of the room. While Bucky growls your name, you try to get in contact with Steve and the rest of the team.

“Captain Rogers, this is an emergency. I think something is wrong with Sergeant Barnes,” you pant while looking over your shoulder. “Can you hear me? Copy?”

All you get is radio silence. Crap. This is the worst time to lose contact with your team.

“OMEGA!” You shriek when you hear Bucky chase after you. Fuck, for a man his size, he’s fucking fast and stealthy. “Come here.”

Like a wild animal, he chases after you, growling your name as you start running again. Your heart thunders in your chest, and your brain goes a mile a minute. You’re torn between following his alpha command and the fear that causes you to run faster.

Until now, you believed that Bucky would never hurt you. But he’s not himself, and you fear he’ll kill you if he gets his hands on you.

He didn’t warn you for nothing.

“Stop running from me.” He’s so close you can smell his sweat. Fuck, how can that fucker run so fast without being out of breath? “OMEGA!”

“Sergeant,” you stumble back. “You need to calm down.” You raise your hands. “I know that I broke the vial, but that’s no reason to kill me!”

“Kill you,” he bares his teeth and chuckles. “I won’t kill you.” You swallow thickly as his eyes drop to your crotch. “I only want to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Bucky dips his head. He smirks, and you swear, it looks like the fucker is having a blast chasing you around.

“Sergeant,” you giggle. “I’m flattered really, but…uh…this is not the time to think about your knot.” You point at him. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

His eyes darkened at your words. “Stop running away from me. Give up. This is your fault for breaking the vial. You released the sex pollen.”

“Sex pollen?” You release a shuddery breath as the realization hits you. Sex pollen. You heard that term before. Doctor Banner mentioned it months ago. “No…this can’t be. It shouldn’t exist any longer.”

Bucky watches you like a hawk. Every move you make gets noticed by him. He’s an apex predator, an alpha, and a super-soldier with higher senses. Outrunning him won’t work out for you.

“Captain Rogers, can you hear me,” you whisper into the void. Your earpiece is useless. White noise is all you hear. “Fuck…”

Bucky smirks darkly when you lick your lips. He looks like a wild wolf with his teeth bared and his eyes glowing. “They want me to mate you, omega.” He sniffs in your direction. “Lucky me, getting such a nice little pussy today.”

“Hah, yeah…you’re very funny.” You show your palms while slowly walking back. One step, after another.

Bucky cannot know that your panties are soaked and that you’d love to have him on top of you. He’s your supervisor and a fucking super-soldier. You’re not sure if you can take him.

What if he breaks your hips? You giggle at the thought, feeling silly. Bucky would never be interested in mating you. Right? Right…

“I told you to run,” he growls now. “I need to mate you.” Bucky curls his shoulders, eyes glued to you. His eyes flick to your face when you move back again.

“Can you not…jerk it out of your body?” You must sound hilarious because Bucky snorts at your comment. “No?” You frown. Bucky tries to fight the toxin; you can see it in his eyes.

“Come. Here,” he spits while talking. “OMEGA!”

You remember Bruce’s words now. Sex pollen was created to make the alphas compliant. A forced rut and an omega in heat were all they needed to control the soldiers. If they refused to mate, the sex pollen would kill them.

“Sergeant,” you slowly take a step back, and another. “I know you believe you must mate me. Believe me, I like me a good fuck but we’re in the middle of a mission.”

He grins darkly. Bucky watches you turn on your heels to go for a sprint. His growls echo through the abandoned building when you run along the corridor.

You don’t stand a chance. The fucker is fucking thick, and beefy but damn him, that man can run. He goes for a sprint, catching up with you in no time.

You feel his breath before he pounces on you. He tackles you to the ground, immediately burying you under his heavy body. “Sergeant,” you snarl feeling his lips nip at your neck. “This is inappropriate.”

Well, no shit. His erection is pressing against your ass, and you can tell, that man is packing. While Bucky tugs at your tactical suit, you wonder if his dick is another perk of being a super-soldier or if he was packing before Hydra got their hands on him.

“Hey, what,” you whimper when Bucky cuts your tactical suit open. He’s done fooling around. He needs to feel your cunt around him. “I liked that suit.”

You groan, and mutter but it’s no use. Bucky rips the remnants of your brand-new suit down your body before you can call him a jerk.

“Omega,” he hums in appreciation while staring at your exposed body. “Mine.” You debate to get up and try to run again. Bucky is much faster than you, he proved it more than once today. Plus, you always had a thing for the grumpy man.

You hate yourself for it, but you lie still and listen to him cursing and growling. Not because you are scared of fighting him, but to save his life. If the test results Doctor Banner told you about are true, Bucky could die if he doesn’t fuck the toxin out of his body.

“Fuck,” he curses behind you. Bucky is on you again, to cover your body with his large, hard one. He ruts against you, hoping to ease the pain in his groin. Bucky presses his aching cock between your legs, moving against your clit. “Mine…only mine.”

If anything, gets even harder feeling your slick cover his length. “Sergeant,” you wiggle your hips. If he forces you to feel his dick, you want to have him inside of you. “Fuck…” You pant heavily.

He’s growling incorrect words in your ear. You don’t understand a thing, only your name and that he wants to breed you.

His skilled hands, made to defeat any enemy, carefully lift your butt to line himself up with your soaked hole. Bucky fully sheaths himself inside your welcome warmth with one hard thrust. He whines into your neck, ready to pop his knot anytime.

Mine. Mine. Mine. He chants in his mind while slowly starting to rock into you. Bucky never felt so welcome inside a body.

His powerful thrusts make you groan. He’s mounting you like you’re some animal, but your body greedily welcomes him.

Bucky grips your hips, holding you pinned to the ground. “Mine.” His movement becomes erratic when you start to whimper his name. He doesn’t stop. Bucky plunges into you, with only one thought left; to breed and claim you and your body. “Mine…”

“Fuck… Sergeant…” you wiggle your hips, unable to meet his thrust. “I’m gonna…” Shit… fuck… it’s too late. Your cunt grips him tightly, forcing his knot to expand. Bucky sinks his teeth in your neck the moment his release fills you.

“Shit…” Bucky won’t let go of your neck. He grunts against you, feeling his knot lock you together. “What did you do?”

“I,” he finally releases your neck to stare at your now-marked mating gland. He releases an inhuman noise before rutting into you a few more times. “Mine…”

You’re too exhausted to argue. His body still presses you to the ground, and his knot won’t deflate for some time. Lying still you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest for a moment. It’s all too much.

Bucky moves his arms around your body and buries his face in your neck. He nuzzles you while feeling the fog clouding his mind slowly start to fade away.

“Y/N! BUCK!”You stiffen underneath Bucky when you recognize Steve’s voice. “BUCK!”

“Capsicle, can you slow down?” Tony whistles the moment his eyes land on Bucky’s naked ass. He snickers and decides to snap a few pictures. “Buckethead, that’s not how we train our rookies,” Tony tsks.

“Tony,” Steve grunts. He looks anywhere but at his friend and you buried under the heavy alpha. “Can you just not.”

“I told you it’s an emergency,” you mutter from under Bucky. “You didn’t listen.”

“What happened?” Steve tries to find out what happened while Tony snickers behind his back. “Tony, just stop it.” He angrily raises his fist.

“Sex pollen,” Bucky slurs. “She dropped sex pollen.” He huffs into your neck. “I had to breed her.”

“Yeah, can you not tell anyone about our little breeding escapade, Sergeant,” you grumble. It’s worse enough that Captain America and Tony walked in on you.

“Steve, some privacy please,” Bucky wraps his arms tighter around your body to roll to his side to take his weight off of you.

Steve gives Tony a stern look. He huffs and jerks his head toward the entrance. “Let’s give them some time. Sex pollen is the worst…”

Tony furrows his brows. “How do you know, Capsicle?” He follows Steve outside the building. “Did you…you know…experience it too.”

While Steve and Tony fight over his phone and the pictures he took of Bucky’s naked ass, Bucky nuzzles you and murmurs your name.

He worriedly looks at you in his arms, sighing deeply. “Are you cold? I can’t move but I can roll on my back. I’m sorry about…uh…everything.”

“I don’t want Tony to see my naked ass…” You both start laughing at that. There’s a lot to talk about, especially the fact that Bucky claimed you…”

Tags in reblog.

[aemondsi]

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

reposted from my old account.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers. 

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.” 

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in. 

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door. 

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm. 

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off. 

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip. 

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms. 

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs. 

Then, the first window exploded.

[perpetuallyburntout]

“For good this time.”

Five Hargreeves x gn!reader

Summary: You and Five barely escape a mission without more than a few scratches, and an argument forms between you two. An old argument. One you’ve had many times. This time, however… there’s a note of finality in his voice.

Word Count: 1278

TW: angst, shouting, brief mention of blood

Five and I blinked into the warehouse, breaths ragged as we tried to control the racing of our hearts.

“Jesus Christ,” I panted. “That was… close.”

“Too close,” he sighed, scanning the large room. “You shouldn’t have come along.”

I took in the room as well. It was blissfully empty, and absolutely silent besides the sounds of our voices. Boxes covered the smooth concrete floors, shelves separated sections of the space, and the ceilings stretched up high. At least we had plenty to hide behind if anyone found us.

“You were better off with me there,” I pointed out as my gaze returned to his. “Better two than one.”

His hair was mussed, his lip bleeding from having it busted earlier. Bits of blood smattered his clothing, and I could only assume I looked just as unkempt. Still, he always managed to look breathtakingly handsome no matter his condition.

“Dont lie to yourself,” he scoffed, bringing my focus back to the present. “If you weren’t there, I wouldn’t have had to worry about your safety.”

“If I wasn’t there, you would have gotten injured, Five.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Okay, that’s not okay! Getting hurt isn’t supposed to be normal!”

“But it is, y/n. Get that through your head.”

I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my face. “You’re so impossible! Look, can we just get out of here?”

Five was quiet for several moments, brows furrowing as a strange look came into his eye. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“…what is it?”

��We could have died back there,” he muttered, “You could have died back there.”

“Yes,” I said slowly, “but we didn’t. I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“No, no…” he mumbled. “It’s not fine. This shouldn’t be happening. Why do you insist on making me drag you along for all this?”

“Wh—what are you talking about?” I asked in disbelief. “You’re not dragging me along, I’m coming willingly. Because I care about you and want to help you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

The simple words made me pause for a moment. I blinked at him. “Shouldn’t… what? Care about you?”

“Yeah,” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said with a small scoff, smiling. “News flash, it’s too late for that. We’ve gone through more than enough together.”

He didn’t return my smile, looking down as he kicked at the ground. “More than enough. Far more. I should have left a long time ago.”

My smile vanished, and it took me several seconds to find the right words. “You… you have left. But you came back. Because you’ve realised that we’re better together than we are apart.”

He shook his head again, turning away. “I haven’t realised anything. I’ve just been too easy to sway. Too weak.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!” I protested.

“I’m done letting you convince me to endanger you again,” he continued, ignoring me. “I’m done with it. All of it. I…” he turned to settle his green gaze on me. “I’m leaving for good this time.”

“You’re always leaving me, Five!” I hissed, starting to feel sick.

“I should never have stayed, y/n, that’s the problem!” He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. “I gave you far too much opportunity to get attached.”

“For me to get attached? Just me? Never you, right?” I hissed.

“That’s not what I meant,” he began, wincing.

“But that’s what you said.”

“Okay, y/n, look,” he began to pace. “I thought you would have understood this by now. Understood me.”

I felt panicked tears began to burn in my eyes. “What is there to understand? That you’re too scared to commit to anything? That you can’t take responsibility for your actions?”

“That everything is temporary. That everything is fleeting, and things change, people change. Whatever’s happening between us… it’s just… one of those things.”

I froze, lips parted slightly as I stared at him. He didn’t meet my gaze.

“One of those things…?” I echoed softly, then my voice increased in pain and outrage. “One of those things? So all the late nights were ‘one of those things?’ All the things you said were ‘one of those things?’ All the moments we shared were ‘one of those things?’ Just something else for you to move on from? Forget about?”

“Never forget about,” he snapped, stalking towards me. “Say whatever you want, yell at me until your voice is raw. But never assume that I’d forget everything.”

“Then why are you trying to leave it all behind?” I asked desperately, the first tear beginning to roll down my cheek.

His voice wavered for a moment as he stepped away. “Isn’t it obvious? You never would have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for me. You never would have been in danger.”

“I don’t care about any of that!” I exclaimed.

“Well I do!” he snapped. “You could have lived a perfectly safe, normal life if it wasn’t for me!”

“It’s too late for that.” Desperation was clawing at me. I needed him to understand. I was running out of time.

“No, it’s not.” A pained smile found its way to his face. “I’m going to make sure nothing else ever happens to you.”

“No,” I breathed.

“I’m going to make sure you’re never in danger because of me again.”

“Stop it,” I choked on the words.

“I’m going to leave,” he said, speaking over my increasingly loud protests. “And I’m never coming back. And if you ever, ever try to find me, or any of my siblings, rest assured it will not end well for you. Got it?”

“No, Five, I don’t ‘got it!’” I screamed.

“Well, you better learn to.”

I saw tears glisten in his eyes as he tried to smile. It failed, and he rolled his shoulders, preparing to blink out as quickly as possible. I screamed his name, launching myself at him as quickly as I could. But my arms closed on empty air, and I hit the ground, pain shooting through my wrists as my hands slammed down first. He’d been too quick. I’d been too slow.

“Five!” I screamed again, a shudder wracking through my body. My tears fell more frequently now, staining my shirt and the ground below me. I gasped for breath, hardly able to breathe as wave after wave of desperation and grief washed over me. My sobs seemed to echo through the warehouse, nothing but deafening silence responding.

It wasn’t the first time we argued. It wasn’t the first time he tried to distance himself. But this was… different. He never sounded so sure of himself. He never had that look in his eye. He never… he never left me here like this.

There was some part of me that knew this was the last time. That I’d never speak to him again. That I’d never see him again. See his smug grins. See the way his eyes glinted when someone ticked him off. Hear his voice. Those rare, precious laughs. Feel the reverence each time he touched me, as if he were scared of breaking me.

If only he knew the exact opposite would be what truly made me break.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed in that warehouse. My hands and knees had grown cold as the chill of the smooth concrete floor seeped into my skin. Even once my tears had dried, I shook as I stared at the ground, so full of emotion that I became numb to everything. I waited to hear footsteps. To hear a voice. His voice.

The loud ringing in my ears was all that kept me company.

[miley1442111]

no promises- a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: aaron had to save you.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: general cm minds topics, guns, trauma, a kid is hurt, talk of abductions, talk of harm coming to the team, the reader is harmed, talk of surgery, talk of choking, etc.

You hadn't even realised he was behind you until you felt the familiar but unwelcome sting of a bullet in your arm. You screamed out, falling to the ground in pain as he ran off. 

Get up. Something inside you said. What if he gets to the team? To Aaron?

You got up. 

Running after him, you ignored the sounds of the rest of the team on comms and continued, following his footsteps. You can’t shoot him, you reminded yourself. He’s the only one who knows where the kid is. 

You caught a glimpse of his hand, turning left. “Put your hands up, put the gun down,” you pointed your own at him, the young girl in his hands as he pointed a gun at her. “Put the gun down now.” 

He didn’t respond, a sick smile on his face. He’d been abducting children, ones that eerily reminded you of your little sister. Your eyes were closing and you could practically feel the blood flowing out of you, he’d definitely hit you somewhere bad. Yet, you had to save this girl, even if it was the last thing you ever did. 

“And why, pray tell, should I?” He asked, a disgusting smirk on his dirty face. “Do you not wish her the same fate as yourself?”

“No,” You grunted out, still ignoring the screams from the other side of the comms. No one had followed you into the hidden door in the back of the warehouse, leading to a maze of endless rooms and confusing signs. “She’s a little girl, take me instead.”

His interest was piqued. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron felt sick to his stomach. “Take me instead.” was ringing in his ears as he scoured the warehouse, desperately trying to find him. He felt everything was happening in slow motion, he could taste the copper of his own blood, he’d been biting his lips. His anxiety was taking over. You hadn’t spoken on the comms for a whole 20 minutes, you could’ve already been gone. He’d heard gunshots, you could be dead and he’d be able to do nothing. 

Nothing. 

“Sir,” He heard a sobbing child, he whipped his head around and saw her, the little girl the unsub had last taken, hsi heart stopped. Immediately he wrapped her up in his arms, allowing her to cry into his chest. When his ears finally focused in, he could hear her soft apologies, he pulled his head away, adrenaline and genuine dread running through his body. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised her, cutting her off. “Look at me- you have nothing to apologise for, at all.”

“But the woman-” she cried and his face hardened. Damnnit. 

“We’ll find her, don’t worry.”

“She was bleeding!” she cried into his chest, sobbing harder. 

“She’ll be ok, she’s strong,” He whispered, quelling her tears and after a few minutes she slowly allowed the exhaustion to overtake her and fell asleep against him. In that time, he’d let his own tears fall, you were hit. You were missing. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron walked through the confusing maze with a SWAT team hot on his heels. Finding there was one exit and entrance, you and the unsub still had to be in there. Spencer was busy mapping out the warehouse and maze through small drone cameras they’d sent out around 40 minutes after your comms were shut off but Aaron couldn’t wait any longer. You were missing. 

They’d found your earpiece on the floor beside your gun and a trail of blood. The trail of blood followed on the wall, and they silently moved along it. Everyone held their breath as they kicked open a door, just praying to find the unsub and you, alive. 

They found what they were looking for, just not in the conditions they wanted. You were on a surgery table, a heart monitor showed that you were barely alive. Aaron wanted to scream. He set his sights on the unsub, an unfamiliar rage settling in him. His hands were around the asshole's neck before he even knew what he was doing, and it took three officers to pull him off. 

He blacked out after that. Spencer said he went with you in the ambulance, and waited for 14 hours while you had emergency surgery. 

You were alive. You had 12 broken ribs, a broken arm, shattered hip-bone, some facial wounds from when the unsub had beaten you up, and you’d lost a kidney and almost a lung. But you were alive.   

Aaron walked into your hospital room the second the nurse said he could. He saw you sitting there, being fed jello by a nurse and he smiled. You were still alive. 

You looked at him and smiled to the best of your abilities. “Hi,” you croaked out.

“I love you,” he said, taking your right hand. Surprise spread across your features and a warmth set in your stomach. 

“I love you too.” 

“Never do that again,” he said with bated breath. “I think you’ve taken years off my life with the stress.”

“No promises,” you joked and he smiled. “Now feed me my jello.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :)

[confused-wanderer]

After Jason came back, he’d catch glimpses of the Waynes on tv.

One day he’s changing, half heartedly tuning into the voice of Dick on camera as he’s happily talking to a child, ignoring the pang of hurt that he barely talked to Jason like that.

“…- Jason.”

That catches his attention. He freezes, keeping his helmet on the stand which he was about to put on, years of habit and familiarity itching for him to answer.

He looks to the screen, Dicks look of shock and guilt matching his own before it’s quickly gone. He’d called the child Jason. By accident. And there’s this heavy cloud of silence that settles over Dick, his eyes far away as his fingers, outstretched towards the child suddenly flinch as if muscle memory of the past had evaporated once reality settled in.

The channel pauses, everything in the room goes silent and Jason’s head is buzzing with dread, and a hint of longingness to hear Dick say his name again with such fondness.

The feeling lasts only a split second, the same amount of time it takes the facade of social charmer Dick Grayson to slide back into place. The channel flickers, and when it returns the host drones on and in about the new Wayne Foundation shelter for children living on the streets. But Dick, Jason noticed, is nowhere to be seen.

And when a couple weeks later he runs onto Nightwing’s territory , he hears his henchmen mocking the man from the other side of the warehouse.

“Where’s the little robin aye? Poof! You lost him!”

He doesn’t hear from them again, and they all don’t stop shaking after Nightwing done with them. They haven’t spoken since, but they all scream in terror and vomit every time they see a bird.

Or more specifically, when a robin sings.

[natsgrave]

THE SMALLEST WOMAN WHO EVER LIVED | natasha romanoff

and i don't miss what we had, but could someone give a message to the smallest woman who ever lived? i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! masterlist

The night was dark, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the cityscape. Shadows danced across the abandoned warehouse where she had taken refuge, a place forgotten by time and society. The woman sat in a corner, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling from exhaustion and fear. Her name was Y/N, but she hadn't been called that in years. To HYDRA, she was known only as Subject 47.

For years, Y/N had been their pawn, subjected to torturous experiments designed to unlock her latent powers. She had been forced to use those powers in ways she could never have imagined, becoming a weapon in HYDRA's arsenal. But she had endured, biding her time, waiting for the moment when she could break free. That moment had come, and now she was on the run, trying to stay one step ahead of the organization that had taken everything from her.

The memories of her escape were still fresh in her mind: the alarms blaring, the shouts of the guards, the searing pain of the injuries she had sustained. But she had made it out, and that was all that mattered. She had to keep moving, had to stay hidden. She couldn't afford to be found, not now.

As she sat in the darkness, her thoughts drifted back to the years of torment she had endured. She remembered the faces of the scientists who had experimented on her, the cold, clinical way they had treated her, as if she were nothing more than a specimen. She remembered the pain, the isolation, the despair. But most of all, she remembered the moments when she had been forced to use her powers to harm others, to carry out HYDRA's will. Those memories haunted her, gnawing at her conscience.

She knew she couldn't go back to being the person she once was. That person was gone, replaced by someone who had been forged in fire and darkness. But she also knew she couldn't let HYDRA win. She had to survive, no matter the cost.

Y/N's powers were formidable. She had the ability to manipulate energy, to create devastating blasts of force that could level buildings. She could also control minds, bending others to her will. These abilities had made her a valuable asset to HYDRA, but they were also a constant reminder of the monster she had become.

She had tried to lay low, to stay out of sight. But it was difficult. Her powers were unpredictable, and sometimes they manifested in ways she couldn't control. And then there was the constant need for resources. Food, money, shelter— these were things she couldn't simply conjure out of thin air. She had turned to a life of crime, using her powers to rob, to steal, to survive. It was a dark path, but it was the only one she knew.

One night, as she was preparing to leave the warehouse and find another place to hide, she heard a noise. Her heart raced as she turned, her powers at the ready. A figure emerged from the shadows, a woman with a determined look in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice cold and wary. "How did you find me?"

The woman raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "My name is Natasha," she said calmly. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Talk?" Y/N scoffed. "I don't have time for talking. If you're HYDRA, you won't leave here alive."

"I'm not HYDRA," Natasha assured her. "I know what they did to you. I know what you're capable of. I'm here to help."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her suspicion evident. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I've been where you are," Natasha replied, her voice softening. "I know what it's like to be used, to be turned into something you're not. But you don't have to keep living this way. There are people who can help you, who can help you control your powers, who can give you a chance at a new life."

Y/N's resolve wavered. She wanted to believe her, but trust was a luxury she couldn't afford. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes filled with sincerity. "You don't. But you have a choice. You can keep running, keep hiding, keep doing things you hate. Or you can take a chance, and maybe— just maybe— find a way out of this darkness."

Y/N stared at Natasha, her mind racing. She had spent so long fighting, so long surviving. The idea of something better, something different, was almost too much to hope for. But as she looked into Natasha's eyes, she saw something she hadn't seen in a long time: hope.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll listen. But if this is a trap, if you're lying to me…"

"I'm not," Natasha interrupted gently. "I promise you, you're not alone anymore."

And for the first time in years, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness after all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Natasha grew closer. The walls Y/N had built around herself slowly began to crumble as Natasha showed her a different way to live, a way that didn't involve fear and isolation. They spent their days training, honing Y/N's powers with precision and control, and their evenings talking, sharing stories of their pasts.

One evening, they sat on the rooftop of an old building, the city lights twinkling below them. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled their hair. Y/N sat on the edge of the rooftop, her legs dangling over the side as she stared out at the city lights. The memory she was about to share was one she had buried deep within herself, a wound that had never fully healed. But Natasha's presence, her understanding, gave Y/N the courage to finally let it out.

"It was one of the worst days," Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. Natasha's eyes gazed into her softly, curious about what she was about to share. "I had been with HYDRA for a few years by then. They had already started experimenting on me, trying to unlock my powers. I was in so much pain, all the time. But this day… this day was different."

Natasha sat beside her, listening intently, her eyes filled with empathy.

"They had me in this lab," Y/N continued, her gaze distant as she relived the memory. "It was cold, sterile. The walls were lined with equipment, and there were a dozen scientists there, all watching me like I was some kind of animal. They strapped me to a table, injected me with something. It burned, like fire coursing through my veins. I screamed, but they didn't care. They just watched, taking notes."

Y/N paused, her hands trembling as she clenched them into fists. Natasha reached out, gently placing a hand on her arm, grounding her.

"I could feel my powers surging," she said, her voice shaking. "It was like they had torn down a dam inside me, and the energy was flooding out. I couldn't control it. I couldn't stop it. They had these targets set up, and they told me to destroy them. I didn't want to, but the pain… it was unbearable. So I did. I blasted them apart, one after another."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, but she forced herself to continue. "Then they brought in… people. Prisoners, they said. Enemies of HYDRA. They wanted me to use my powers on them. I refused. I begged them to stop, but they just laughed. One of the scientists, Dr. Zola, he was the worst. He looked at me with such contempt. He told me that if I didn't do as they asked, they would make the pain even worse."

Natasha's grip on Y/N's arm tightened, a silent offer of support.

"So I did it," Y/N whispered, the tears now streaming down her face. "I used my powers on those people. I saw the fear in their eyes, heard their screams. I tried to hold back, to minimize the damage, but it was no use. I could see what I was doing to them, the horror and pain I was causing. And all the while, Dr. Zola was there, taking notes, completely detached from the suffering."

Y/N's voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing. Natasha pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she cried.

"It wasn't your fault," Natasha murmured softly. "They forced you. You were a victim, Y/N, just like those people."

Y/N shook her head, the guilt and shame overwhelming her. "I still see their faces, Natasha. Every night, the same nightmare. I can never forget what I did."

"You were put in an impossible situation," Natasha said firmly, pulling back to look Y/N in the eyes. "HYDRA did that to you, not the real you. The real you is the person sitting here with me, the person who has the strength to fight back, to survive. You are not defined by what they made you do."

Y/N nodded, though the pain was still raw. "I want to believe that. I really do. But it's hard."

"I know it is," Natasha replied, her voice gentle. "But you're not alone anymore. We'll get through this together. We'll find a way to make things right, to move forward."

Y/N took a deep breath, the weight of her past still heavy on her shoulders, but there was a glimmer of hope in her heart. With Natasha by her side, she felt a strength she hadn't known in years.

"Thank you, Natasha," she said quietly. "For listening. For being here."

"Always," Natasha replied, a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "We'll face this together, Y/N. One step at a time."

And as the night stretched on, they sat together on the rooftop, two kindred spirits bound by their pasts but looking forward to a future they could shape with their own hands.

"You know," Y/N said, her eyes fixed on the horizon, "I've never told anyone that before. Not even the other subjects."

Natasha nodded, her expression thoughtful. "It takes a lot of courage to share something like that. I'm honored you trust me."

Y/N glanced at her, a small smile playing on her lips. "You've given me a reason to trust again. I never thought I'd feel that way after everything that's happened."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. But a nagging thought had been bothering Y/N for days, and she knew she had to address it.

"Natasha," she began hesitantly, "there's something I need to ask you."

Natasha turned to her, her expression open and encouraging. "Anything, Y/N. What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. "How did you find me? I mean, really find me. I've been running for so long, staying off the grid. It doesn't make sense."

Natasha's face grew serious, and she looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting Y/N's gaze. "I understand why you're curious. The truth is, I was able to find you because of my past. You see, I wasn't always… on the side of the angels."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Natasha sighed, her eyes distant as she delved into her memories. "I was trained by a group called the Red Room. It's an organization that turns young girls into assassins, into weapons. They took me when I was just a child and molded me into what they wanted. I was one of their best."

Y/N listened intently, her heart aching at the pain in Natasha's voice. "That sounds… horrible. I'm so sorry, Natasha."

Natasha shook her head. "It's in the past. But the skills they taught me, the connections I made— they're how I was able to track you down. I recognized the signs of someone trying to hide, because I've been there myself."

Y/N's eyes widened in realization. "So you used your training to find me?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes. But not to hurt you. To help you. I saw a kindred spirit in you, someone who had been used and discarded. I wanted to give you a chance to break free, to find your own path."

Y/N's emotions swirled within her. "Thank you, Natasha. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Natasha replied, her voice gentle. "Just know that we can face our pasts together and create a better future."

As the weeks turned into months, their bond grew stronger. They trained together, pushing each other to their limits, and spent their downtime sharing stories and dreams. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, revealing details about her life before HYDRA, her hopes and fears. Natasha, in turn, shared her own experiences, the pain and triumphs that had shaped her into who she was.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, they sat on the rooftop again, watching the sunset. Y/N turned to Natasha, her heart full of gratitude and something she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Natasha," she said softly, "thank you for everything. You've given me a reason to believe in myself again."

Natasha smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made Y/N's heart swell. "You've always had that strength, Y/N. You just needed someone to remind you of it."

And in that moment, surrounded by the fading light of the day, Y/N knew that she had found not just a friend, but a kindred spirit. Someone who understood her pain, her struggles, and her dreams. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, and for the first time in years, Y/N felt truly free.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Months and months passed, and Y/N and Natasha became inseparable. Natasha taught Y/N everything from combat techniques to espionage tactics, sharing stories of her own childhood in the Red Room and even recounting funny anecdotes that brought laughter back into Y/N's life. The once distant and cautious Y/N now felt a warmth she hadn't experienced in years.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed one night, staring at the ceiling, her mind filled with thoughts of Natasha. Every day, she found herself falling deeper in love with the woman who had not only saved her but also given her a reason to live again. Natasha's strength, compassion, and unwavering support had become a beacon in Y/N's life, guiding her through the darkness.

But with those feelings came fear. Y/N was terrified that if she confessed her love, it might push Natasha away. Despite Natasha being a trained assassin with an uncanny ability to read people, Y/N had managed to keep her feelings hidden. She didn't want to risk losing the one person who meant everything to her.

One afternoon, they were training in an abandoned gym they had discovered. The space was perfect for their needs— isolated, spacious, and filled with old equipment that they could use for their rigorous routines. As they sparred, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at Natasha's agility and skill. Even after months of training, Natasha still amazed her with her prowess.

"You're getting better every day," Natasha said, wiping sweat from her brow as they took a break. "I'm proud of you, Y/N."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. "I have a great teacher."

Natasha chuckled, but there was a hint of seriousness in her eyes. "It's not just about the training. It's about finding yourself, trusting yourself. And you're doing that."

Y/N nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you, Natasha. For everything."

Natasha's expression softened. "You don't have to thank me. We're in this together."

As they sat on the gym floor, catching their breath, Natasha began to share another story from her past, this time about a mission that had gone hilariously wrong. Y/N laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease as the sound of Natasha's laughter filled the room.

"You should have seen the look on his face when the cat jumped out of the box instead of the intel we were expecting." Natasha said, grinning. Avoiding to mention any name.

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. "I wish I could have been there."

Natasha's smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful look. "You know, Y/N, I don't think I've ever felt this close to anyone before. It's… different."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she looked down, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, it's different for me too."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging in the air. Y/N wanted so desperately to tell Natasha how she felt, but the fear held her back.

One evening, they decided to take a break from training and relax on the rooftop of their safe house. The night was clear, and the stars were scattered across the sky like diamonds. They lay on their backs, side by side, staring up at the cosmos.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to have a normal life?" Y/N asked softly.

Natasha sighed. "Sometimes. But I think we make our own normal, don't you? Whatever that looks like."

Y/N turned her head to look at Natasha, her heart aching with unspoken words. "I think you're right."

Natasha met her gaze, her eyes searching Y/N's. "Y/N, is there something you want to tell me?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. The moment had come, and she felt both terrified and exhilarated. "I… Natasha, I—"

Before she could finish, a loud noise from the street below startled them both. They sat up quickly, their training kicking in as they scanned the area for potential threats. After a few tense moments, they realized it was just a group of teenagers making noise.

Natasha sighed in relief, then looked at Y/N with a small smile. "I guess we'll have to save the deep conversations for another time."

Y/N nodded, her heart still pounding. "Yeah, another time."

As they settled back down, Y/N felt a mix of disappointment and relief. The moment had passed, but the feelings remained. She knew she couldn't keep them hidden forever, but for now, she was content to cherish the bond they had, hoping that one day she would find the courage to tell Natasha how deeply she cared for her.

The night had settled into a comfortable stillness, the kind that Y/N had come to appreciate in her new life with Natasha. They had spent the evening on the rooftop, their bond growing even stronger with every shared story and laugh. But the moment of potential confession had been interrupted, leaving Y/N with a mix of emotions that she couldn't quite sort through.

"Hey, I'm going to run to the store to grab a few things," Natasha said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Do you need anything?"

Y/N shook her head, offering a warm smile. "No, I'm good. Just hurry back."

Natasha grinned. "Won't be long."

As the door closed behind Natasha, Y/N found herself alone in the quiet apartment. She tried to shake off the lingering thoughts of her unspoken feelings, instead focusing on the simple task of tidying up their training equipment, replaying the evening's conversation in her mind, wondering how she might finally confess her feelings to Natasha. She was just about to sit down and relax when she heard the door creak open again.

"Natasha, that was quick." she began, turning around with a smile. But her words died on her lips as she took in the sight before her.

Instead of Natasha, a group of several figures stood in the doorway, none of whom were Natasha. Y/N's heart began to race.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, stepped forward. His expression was firm but not unkind. "Y/N, we need you to come with us."

Y/N's heart raced, confusion and fear flooding her mind. "How did you find me? Who are you?"

Clint Barton, Hawkeye, responded calmly, "We're the Avengers. We need you to come peacefully. We don't want to hurt you."

But Y/N shook her head, taking a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Tony Stark, Iron Man, sighed. "We were hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"Y/N, please," Captain America urged, taking a step forward. "We don't want to fight you."

Without further warning, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline. She couldn't let them take her. She had fought too hard, endured too much, to be captured now. Her powers, usually kept in check, surged uncontrollably as her fear and anger took over.

The energy crackling around her as she prepared for a confrontation. "I'm not leaving without a fight."

The battle began with a blur of movement. Y/N unleashed a blast of energy that sent Captain America flying backward, his shield barely absorbing the impact. Iron Man's repulsors fired in response, but Y/N dodged with agility, her movements a blur. Thor swung Mjolnir, but Y/N countered with a force field that deflected the mighty hammer.

Iron Man flew into the air, attempting to get a better angle for his attack. "She's fast. We need to contain her!"

Y/N responded by sending a wave of energy that disrupted Iron Man's flight, causing him to crash into a wall. He recovered quickly, his suit's systems recalibrating, but the momentary distraction gave Y/N the upper hand.

Captain America threw his shield, aiming for Y/N's legs to incapacitate her, but she leaped into the air, avoiding the strike and landing a powerful kick to his chest. He stumbled back but quickly regained his footing, his determination unwavering.

Thor charged at Y/N, lightning crackling around him. He swung Mjolnir with all his might, but Y/N created a barrier that absorbed the impact. She pushed back with a surge of energy, sending Thor skidding across the floor.

Clint shot an arrow aimed at disarming Y/N, but she deflected it with a wave of energy. Steve charged forward, his shield raised, but Y/N countered with a blast of force that once again, sent him skidding backward.

Tony, in his Iron Man suit, launched a series of repulsor blasts. Y/N dodged them with agility honed from months of training with Natasha. She retaliated with a powerful blast that knocked Tony off balance, sending him crashing into a wall.

Thor entered the fray, his hammer Mjolnir crackling with electricity. "Stay your hand, mortal! We mean you no harm!"

But Y/N was beyond reasoning. She unleashed a torrent of energy, attempting to fend off the god of thunder. The two clashed in a dazzling display of power, the air around them crackling with raw force.

As the battle raged on, Y/N's control over her powers slipped. She sent waves of destructive energy in all directions, causing the building to shake and debris to fall. The Avengers fought to contain her without causing her harm, but Y/N's desperation made her unpredictable.

In the midst of the chaos, Y/N caught sight of Natasha standing at the edge of the room, a look of pained determination on her face. Y/N's heart ached with a mix of relief and confusion. She was about to call out to Natasha, to tell her to run, when she saw Natasha raise her wrist, the Widow Bites charging with electricity.

"Natasha, no—" Y/N's words were cut off as the electric shock hit her. Pain surged through her body, and she collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. She fell to her knees, her vision blurring as she tried to process the betrayal.

Confusion, hurt, and betrayal were etched across Y/N's face as she looked up at Natasha. "Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the battle.

Natasha's eyes met Y/N's, a silent apology evident in their depths. "Y/N, please. Just listen—"

Before Natasha could finish, Tony approached Y/N cautiously, his helmet retracting to reveal his concerned face. "I'm sorry about this." he said softly, before administering a knockout shot that sent Y/N into unconsciousness.

The last thing Y/N saw was Natasha's face, torn between duty and the bond they had shared. As darkness enveloped her, Y/N's mind swirled with unanswered questions and a profound sense of betrayal.

When Y/N woke up, she found herself in a sterile, secure room, her hands restrained. The cold metal of the restraints bit into her skin, a harsh reminder of her new reality. The stark whiteness of the walls and the faint hum of machinery around her brought back a flood of memories she had desperately tried to bury. Her hands were restrained, the cold metal digging into her wrists, making escape impossible. Panic set in, and her mind raced as she tried to piece together the events that had led her here. The fight with the Avengers, Natasha's betrayal— it all felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

Memories from her time in HYDRA began to resurface, unbidden and relentless. She could almost feel the cold, damp walls of the cells they kept her in, hear the echo of her own screams as they experimented on her, pushing her to the brink of insanity. The pain had been unbearable, but the psychological torment was even worse. They had stripped her of her humanity, treating her like a lab rat, an object to be used and discarded.

She remembered the countless nights spent in isolation, the darkness her only companion. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant scream of another unfortunate soul. Y/N had learned to dread the sound of approaching footsteps, knowing it meant another round of torture or experiments. They had tried to break her, to mold her into their perfect weapon, and for a time, they had succeeded.

She could still see the faces of the scientists, their expressions cold and detached as they inflicted unimaginable pain on her. She had begged for mercy, for death, but they had only laughed, their eyes void of any empathy. The experiments had been brutal, designed to push her powers to their limits, often leaving her on the brink of death. They had injected her with unknown substances, subjected her to electric shocks, and forced her to endure endless physical and mental trials.

Her mind drifted to the times when she had been restrained, much like she was now, unable to move or defend herself. She could feel the tightness of the straps, the helplessness that had consumed her as she lay there, vulnerable and exposed. The scientists would talk about her as if she wasn't even there, discussing their next steps in cold, clinical terms. They had stripped her of her identity, reducing her to a mere experiment number.

The fear and anger she had felt during those years were now mingling with the sense of betrayal and hurt she felt towards Natasha. The two emotions intertwined, creating a storm of confusion and pain within her. She had thought she had found a semblance of peace, a way to move forward from her past, but now it all seemed to be crashing down around her.

Y/N's mind shifted to the happier memories she had shared with Natasha, the woman who had seemed to be her savior, her light in the darkness. The way Natasha had smiled at her, the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her touch— all of it felt like a cruel joke now.

How could someone who had meant so much to her be the same person who had deceived her so completely?

She remembered the nights spent talking with Natasha, sharing their deepest fears and dreams. Natasha had made her feel safe, cherished even, something she had never experienced before. The bond they had formed had been real, or so she had thought. The betrayal cut deeper because of the trust she had placed in Natasha, a trust that had been shattered in an instant.

The memories of their time together played in her mind like a cruel montage. Training sessions where Natasha had pushed her to be better, moments of laughter and camaraderie, the quiet evenings where they had simply enjoyed each other's presence. Y/N had opened up to Natasha in ways she had never done with anyone else, revealing parts of herself she had kept hidden for so long.

But now, all those memories felt tainted. She couldn't shake the image of Natasha standing there with the Avengers, the look of determination on her face as she shot Y/N with her Widow's Bite. The physical pain had been nothing compared to the emotional agony of realizing that the one person she had trusted had been sent to betray her.

Y/N's thoughts circled back to her time in HYDRA, the endless cycle of pain and hopelessness. She had endured so much, fought so hard to survive, only to be betrayed by the one person who had given her a reason to keep fighting. The feelings of helplessness and despair were overwhelming, threatening to consume her once more.

She could feel tears welling up, but she refused to let them fall. She had cried enough during her time in HYDRA, and she had vowed never to let herself be that vulnerable again. But the pain of Natasha's betrayal was too much to bear, reopening old wounds that had never truly healed.

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memories, but they came flooding back with even greater intensity. The faces of the scientists, the cold, clinical environment, the pain, the screams— it all felt too real, too immediate. She had spent so long trying to bury those memories, to move past them, but now they were resurfacing with a vengeance.

She thought about the other subjects in HYDRA, the ones who hadn't survived. She could still hear their cries for help, their pleas for mercy. She had been one of the few to make it out alive, but at what cost? The memories of those who had perished haunted her, a constant reminder of the horrors she had endured.

Y/N tried to focus on her breathing, to calm herself, but it was a losing battle. The memories were too strong, too overwhelming. She felt like she was back in those cells, trapped and helpless, with no way out. The room she was in now felt eerily similar, the restraints on her wrists a cruel echo of her past.

The memories of Natasha brought a new wave of pain. She had thought she could trust her, had believed in the bond they had shared. But now, it felt like all of that had been a lie. Natasha's betrayal was a knife to her heart, twisting with every recollection of their time together.

Y/N remembered the times Natasha had held her, comforting her during moments of weakness. She had felt safe in Natasha's arms, believing that she had found someone who truly cared about her. But now, that sense of safety was shattered, replaced by a void of distrust and heartbreak.

She tried to reconcile the Natasha she had come to love with the woman who had betrayed her. It was impossible. The two images clashed in her mind, creating a whirlwind of confusion and pain. She had fallen in love with Natasha, believing in the goodness she saw in her, but now she couldn't tell what had been real and what had been a façade.

The tears she had been holding back finally began to fall. The memories, the pain, the betrayal— it was all too much. She felt like she was drowning, unable to breathe, unable to escape the torment of her past and the heartbreak of the present.

Y/N's mind was a battleground, the memories of HYDRA and her time with Natasha colliding in a cacophony of emotions. She felt the weight of her past pressing down on her, the sense of hopelessness creeping back in. The fight to survive had taken everything she had, and now it felt like she had nothing left to give.

As she sat there, restrained and helpless, Y/N's thoughts drifted to the future. She didn't know what lay ahead, whether she would ever be able to trust again, whether she could find a way to heal from the betrayal. But one thing was certain— she would never forget what she had been through, and she would never forgive Natasha for what she had done.

The pain of betrayal was a wound that would take a long time to heal, if it ever did. But Y/N knew she had to keep fighting, to keep pushing forward, even if it felt impossible. She had survived HYDRA, she had endured unimaginable pain, and she would find a way to survive this too.

The memories of her time in HYDRA, the torment, the helplessness— they were a part of her, but they didn't define her. She was stronger than that, stronger than the pain and the betrayal. And as she sat there, tears streaming down her face, Y/N made a silent vow to herself. She would find a way to move past this, to find her strength again, and to never let anyone break her the way HYDRA had tried to.

With that thought, Y/N closed her eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of her mind. The road ahead was uncertain, and the pain was still raw, but she was determined to keep fighting. For herself, for her future, and for the chance to prove that she was more than the sum of her past traumas.

Her closed eyes instantly shot opened when the door of the room opened, and Natasha walked in, clad in her black widow suit. Her expression was a mix of concern and determination. "Y/N, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft.

What do you think? She wanted to spat but instead, Y/N sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the floor. She couldn't bring herself to look at Natasha. The betrayal cut too deep, and the words she wanted to say were lodged in her throat.

Natasha took a step closer, her eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N, talk to me."

After a long, tense silence, Y/N finally looked up, her eyes filled with pain and anger. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How could you do this, Natasha? After everything we've been through, everything you made me believe? Was any of it true?"

Natasha's face crumpled with guilt and sorrow. "I… I didn't want it to happen like this. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Then why?" Y/N demanded, her voice rising. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you pretend to care?"

Natasha struggled to find the right words, but they seemed to elude her. "It was my mission. But that doesn't mean what we had wasn't real. It was real, it was real to me!"

Y/N scoffed, bitterness lacing her voice. "Real? You were sent by someone who wanted me dead! Now tell me, Natasha, did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?"

Natasha's eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently. "No, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Y/N's voice was filled with incredulity. "By lying to me? By using me?"

Natasha took a deep breath, her own eyes filling with tears. "I did what I had to do. But my feelings for you were real. They still are."

Y/N's voice was a whisper now, raw with emotion. "I would have died for your sins, Natasha."

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. Natasha was stunned, her mind racing to process the depth of Y/N's pain.

Y/N continued, her voice breaking. "I loved you, Natasha. Every day, I fell deeper in love with you. And now… now I find out it was all just a goddamn mission to you."

"No," Natasha said quickly, her own heart breaking. "It wasn't just a mission. You mean so much more to me than that."

"But it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden, was it?" Y/N's voice was filled with hurt and sarcasm. "Once the truth was out, it lost its appeal, didn't it?"

Natasha shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, Y/N. Please, believe me. I… I love you too."

Y/N looked away, the pain too much to bear. "I don't know what to believe anymore. How can I trust you after this? You were the one person I thought I could rely on."

Natasha took a step closer, reaching out to touch Y/N's hand, but Y/N pulled away, the betrayal still too fresh. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry."

The room was filled with the sound of their silent tears, the weight of their shared pain too heavy to bear. And in that moment, both of them knew that their lives would never be the same again.

Y/N's heart ached with the weight of her emotions, "I want you to leave, Natasha."

"Y/N, please…"

"I SAID LEAVE!"

Natasha left the room, her heart heavy with guilt and sorrow. She wanted to stay, to explain herself further, but Y/N's shout had left no room for argument. As she stepped into the corridor, the weight of her actions pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her.

The mission had seemed straightforward at first: locate the escaped HYDRA experiment and bring her in. It should have been simple. But Y/N had become so much more than a mission. She had broken through Natasha's defenses, seen her vulnerabilities, and made her feel things she hadn't thought possible. Y/N had become her person, the one exception in her life of secrecy and deception.

Natasha walked through the sterile halls of the Avengers' facility, each step feeling heavier than the last. She made her way to an empty room, seeking solitude to process everything. She couldn't shake the image of Y/N's face, the pain and betrayal in her eyes. The girl she loved, the one who had seen her at her weakest, was now lost to her.

"Natasha," a voice called softly. She turned to see Steve Rogers standing at the door. His expression was filled with concern.

"Steve, I—" Natasha began, but her voice faltered.

Steve stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I know this isn't easy for you."

Natasha shook her head, tears threatening to spill. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was just a mission, but she became so much more."

Steve nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes, the lines blur. You can't help who you care about."

Natasha sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands. "She hates me now. I don't blame her. I lied to her, used her. How can she ever forgive me?"

Steve placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Give her time. She needs to process everything. And you need to be honest with her, even if it's painful."

Natasha looked up, her eyes filled with anguish. "But what if it's too late? What if I've lost her forever?"

Steve's expression softened. "You haven't lost her. Not yet. But you need to fight for her, Natasha. Show her that your feelings are real, that she's more than a mission to you." squeezing her shoulder softly, he added, "Who you are is not what you did."

Natasha nodded, though uncertainty still clouded her mind. She knew Steve was right, but the path ahead seemed so daunting. She had to find a way to bridge the gap she had created, to make Y/N understand that her love was genuine.

The days that followed were torturous. Natasha threw herself into training and missions, trying to distract herself from the ache in her heart. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape the thoughts of Y/N. Each night, she lay awake, replaying their conversations, the laughter they had shared, and the tender moments that had made her feel alive.

Natasha sat alone in her quarters, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap her mind around everything that had happened. The sterile, cold walls seemed to close in on her, echoing her isolation and guilt. She had replayed her confrontation with Y/N countless times in her mind, each time feeling the knife of betrayal twist deeper. The mission had been clear-cut, simple even: locate and capture. But then she had met Y/N, and everything had changed.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the first time she had seen Y/N. It had been a rainy night in a rundown part of the city. Y/N had been fighting off some low-level thugs, her powers crackling around her in a wild display of raw energy. Natasha had been struck by her ferocity, her determination, and the deep sadness that seemed to emanate from her. She had been assigned to neutralize Y/N, but instead, she found herself captivated by her.

Natasha's heart ached as she remembered their first real conversation. It had been awkward, filled with mistrust and guarded words. But over time, they had grown closer. Y/N had slowly let her guard down, allowing Natasha glimpses into her world, her pain, and her struggles. They had trained together, laughed together, and shared stories that had created a bond Natasha had never expected.

But now, all of that was shattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Weeks passed and Natasha still feel the weight of her poor decisions pressing down on her like a heavy, unyielding burden. The guilt gnawed at her constantly, making it hard to focus on anything else. She had tried to compartmentalize, to push the feelings aside, but they refused to be ignored.

Because now, her person— Y/N— was filled with anger and betrayal, emotions that Natasha herself had caused. Every time she saw Y/N's face, the pain was still evident, a constant reminder of the trust she had shattered. Natasha had made a series of poor decisions, each one leading them to this moment of intense suffering.

In the quiet moments, when she was alone with her thoughts, Natasha's mind would wander to a life that seemed like a distant dream— a normal life with Y/N. She imagined lazy mornings in bed, laughing over shared breakfasts, evenings spent watching the sunset, and a future filled with love and happiness. But those dreams felt like they were slipping further and further out of reach.

She often found herself in a spiral of doubt and regret. Was what she did worth it? Was there any way to redeem herself in Y/N's eyes? The questions were relentless, and the answers were elusive. Y/N had become her everything, the one person who had seen the real Natasha and still loved her. And now, that love seemed impossible to salvage.

Natasha's thoughts often turned dark, filled with self-loathing and despair. It was a losing battle in her mind. On one hand, she was a hero, an Avenger dedicated to protecting the world. On the other hand, Y/N saw her as a villain, a betrayer who had shattered their trust. The dichotomy was tearing her apart, and she didn't know how to reconcile the two.

Everywhere Natasha turned, she was haunted by the decisions that led her to this point. She recalled the moment she first saw Y/N's file, the cold detachment she felt as she read about the mission's objectives. Y/N was just another target then, another task to be completed. But then the mission parameters blurred, and Natasha found herself drawn to Y/N in ways she hadn't anticipated.

She was not even supposed to tell and share stories, let alone her past life when she was still under Red Room.

But Y/N's strength, resilience, and vulnerability captivated Natasha, breaking through her professional detachment. She remembered the first time she saw Y/N laugh— a genuine, carefree laugh that lit up her entire face. Natasha had felt something stir within her, something she hadn't felt in her entire life: hope. Hope that there was more to life than missions and deception. Hope that she could find redemption through love.

But now, that hope felt like a cruel joke. Natasha was left to grapple with the reality of her actions. She had deceived Y/N, played with her emotions, and shattered her trust. The look of betrayal on Y/N's face was seared into Natasha's memory, a constant reminder of her failure. It haunted her dreams, turning them into nightmares where Y/N's eyes bore into her with unspoken accusations.

Natasha tried to lose herself in her work, but it was no use. Every mission, every fight, felt hollow without Y/N by her side. She replayed their last conversation over and over in her mind, dissecting every word, every gesture, searching for a way she could have handled things differently. If only she had been honest from the beginning. If only she had found a way to protect Y/N without betraying her trust.

The guilt was relentless, gnawing at her insides. Natasha found herself questioning her very identity. Who was she if she could betray the one person who meant the most to her? Could she still call herself a hero? The lines between right and wrong had become so blurred, and Natasha felt like she was losing herself in the murkiness.

She sought solace in her training, pushing her body to its limits in an attempt to silence her mind. But no amount of physical exertion could quiet the storm of emotions raging within her. Each punch, each kick, was a futile attempt to fight against the guilt and regret that consumed her.

In her quieter moments, Natasha allowed herself to imagine a different reality, one where she and Y/N were living a peaceful life together. She envisioned a small, cozy home, filled with warmth and laughter. She saw herself waking up next to Y/N, their fingers intertwined, the morning light casting a gentle glow on their faces. She imagined sharing quiet moments, stolen kisses, and whispered promises. But as beautiful as these fantasies were, they were also a painful reminder of what she had lost.

Natasha's mind was a battlefield, torn between the desire to make things right and the fear that it was too late. She replayed every interaction with Y/N, every smile, every touch, trying to decipher where she went wrong. She questioned her own worthiness, wondering if she deserved forgiveness, if she deserved Y/N's love.

Her nights were the hardest. Alone in her room, Natasha would lie awake, her mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. She would reach out to the empty space beside her, imagining that Y/N was there, her presence a comforting balm to Natasha's troubled soul. But the emptiness only served to deepen her sense of loss and regret.

Natasha's heart ached with a longing she couldn't quell. She wanted to reach out to Y/N, to beg for her forgiveness, to prove that her love was real. But she was paralyzed by fear— fear of rejection, fear of causing more pain, fear of facing the truth of her actions. The vulnerability that Y/N had awakened within her was both a gift and a curse, leaving Natasha exposed and raw.

In her moments of despair, Natasha would recall Steve's words: "Who you are is not what you did." But it was hard to believe those words when the evidence of her betrayal was so clear. She had hurt Y/N. The guilt was suffocating, a constant reminder of her failure.

Natasha's mind would drift back to their time together, to the small, intimate moments that had defined their relationship. She remembered the way Y/N's eyes would light up when she talked about her dreams, the softness in her voice when she whispered Natasha's name. She remembered the warmth of Y/N's touch, the comfort of her embrace, the way she made Natasha feel like she was worth something, like she was more than just a weapon.

But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, a beautiful dream that had turned into a nightmare. Natasha was left to grapple with the reality of her actions, with the knowledge that she had destroyed the one good thing in her life. The weight of her choices was crushing, leaving her feeling hollow and lost.

In her darkest moments, Natasha would wonder if it was too late to make things right. She questioned whether Y/N could ever forgive her, whether there was any hope of salvaging their relationship. But despite the overwhelming doubt, there was a small, stubborn part of Natasha that refused to give up. She clung to the hope that, somehow, she could find a way to prove her love, to show Y/N that she was more than her mistakes.

Natasha knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult. She would have to face her own demons, confront the parts of herself she had kept hidden for so long. She would have to earn Y/N's trust, step by painful step, proving that her love was real and unwavering. It was a daunting task, but Natasha was determined to try.

As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Natasha made a silent vow to herself. She would do whatever it took to make things right with Y/N. She would fight for their love, for the future she had once dreamed of. It wouldn't be easy, and it might take a lifetime, but Natasha was willing to give it her all.

With that thought, Natasha finally felt a small sense of peace. The guilt and regret were still there, but they were tempered by a newfound determination. She would prove to Y/N that their love was worth fighting for, that she was worth fighting for. And maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, Natasha sighed and stood up, pacing the small room. She knew she had to try to explain everything to Y/N, even if it seemed impossible. She couldn't just leave things as they were. She owed Y/N the truth, even if it hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha left her quarters and walked towards Y/N's room. The halls were quiet, the soft hum of the facility's systems the only sound. As she approached the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated for a moment before knocking softly and entering.

Y/N was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes red from crying. She looked up as Natasha entered, her expression guarded. The sight of Y/N in such pain made Natasha's heart ache even more.

"Y/N," Natasha began, her voice trembling. "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I need to explain."

Y/N's gaze was cold. "Explain what? How you lied to me? How I was just a mission to you?"

Natasha shook her head, tears welling up. "No, Y/N. You were never just a mission. Not to me. Let me tell you everything, from the beginning."

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly skeptical but willing to listen. "Go on then."

Natasha took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "When I first found out about you, I was assigned to the mission. It was supposed to be simple— locate you and bring you in. But from the moment I saw you, I knew it wasn't going to be that straightforward. You were different. You were fighting off those thugs with such determination, and I saw something in you that I couldn't ignore."

Y/N's eyes softened slightly, but she remained silent, letting Natasha continue.

"I watched you for a while, trying to understand you," Natasha said, her voice filled with regret. "I saw the pain you were in, the loneliness. I couldn't just complete the mission and hand you over to people who would hurt you. So I made a decision. I approached you, and I tried to get to know you. And the more I got to know you, the more I realized how special you were."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears, but she still didn't speak.

Natasha took a step closer, her voice pleading. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. My feelings for you are real, Y/N. They always have been. I love you." Natasha continued to confess her feelings, her voice raw with emotion. "Y/N, I know I hurt you. I know what I did was unforgivable. But please, believe me."

Y/N finally spoke, her voice trembling with emotion. "How can I believe you, Natasha? After all the things you did?" Y/N's eyes blazing with anger. "Is this the goal, Natasha? Breaking me? Rusting me?"

"No," Natasha answered quickly, shaking her head. "No, that's not it at all. Let me explain everything." Natasha felt a lump in her throat. "I know I've given you every reason not to trust me, but I'm begging you to believe me. I couldn't just let you die, especially not at HYDRA's hands. They're still after you."

Y/N's voice was filled with bitterness. "I just died inside. And it's because of you, Natasha. You killed me, you sleeper cell spy."

Natasha flinched at the harsh words, feeling the weight of her guilt. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted any of this to happen. If I could go back, I would change everything. I'd never do this to you and… and I'm not what I did. Believe me."

Y/N's laugh was cold and sarcastic. "You are what you did, Natasha."

The words echoed in Natasha's mind, clashing with Steve's voice reminding her that who she is isn't defined by what she did. But Y/N's words felt truer in this moment, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

"I'll forget you, Natasha, someday," Y/N said, her voice chillingly calm. "But I'll never forgive."

Natasha's heart shattered at those words. She had known that repairing their relationship would be difficult, but hearing Y/N's definitive statement felt like a death sentence to her hopes.

Y/N continued, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "You're the smallest woman who ever lived."

Natasha stood there, speechless, the weight of Y/N's words pressing down on her like a physical burden. She wanted to fight back, to prove her love and remorse, but the pain in Y/N's eyes told her that it's a bit too late.

three days in the making!! ( became four since i added a few things today, lol ) how was it? was it worth it? i think so. i love tsmwel soooo much!! been playing it over and over and over again. i mean, isn't it obvious? ( 9.361k words… ) let me know what you think and enjoy reading!

if i said best ttpd song, you say what??

[yandere-kokeshi]

How would Dad! Ghost react to coming home, finding his son gone - being kidnapped by enemies?

Warnings: yandere behavior, and violence.

A/N: all platonic. Ty for the ask <3.

Dad! Ghost had felt fear before — from his father, being tortured, being betrayed and being in war — but nothing as petrifying as this. You were gone. And he would tear the whole fucking world apart until he found you. 

Price and the rest of the team and Laswell and Farah are quickly informed of the whereabouts. Some reactions of “You had a son?” to “We’ll get ‘em back. We promise.”. They immediately get to work, as does Ghost. But he’s a rope ready to snap. 

He’s unsure how to react. He’s angry, snapping at Price when they ask what you were last wearing. Becoming unbelievably quiet where he doesn’t answer anything, or to anyone; chewing his lips until they bleed. 

Yet, he doesn’t cry, sleep, nor stop working– he can’t show weakness, especially since you’re out there alone.  

Every passing second and minute hits him like a bullet train. The ‘what ifs’ trailing his mind. He’s ready to blow off heads. Dad! Ghost needs to know if you’re okay. 

Finally, Laswell informs the team and him of your whereabouts — trapped in a large-abandoned warehouse, possibly chained with enemies. In a way, he was relieved. But, he winced with physical pain at the thought of you covered in many battering. 

And with that, Dad! Ghost doesn’t waste any time. His eyes sharp and gaze unwavering, storming inside with bloody intentions. Pure muscle memory with his trained tactics, discarding the men with single blows, either to the head or their neck slit; not missing a single step, ramming into the shut doors and going through the empty rooms in hope of finding you. 

Soon, Dad! Ghost finds you and rushes over to you, holding you with extreme tightness; urges on picking you up into his arms. He covers your eyes, not wanting you to see his bloody wrath. But by the stained blood on his gloved-hands and gear, it’s easily shown what he did. 

Despite how you look — whether with blood from him, or being hurt — you’re transported to a hospital. And by the time you reach into a room with IV’s, you’re passed out, sleeping away by the huge dose of adrenaline. 

Right beside you is Dad! Ghost, caressing your hand and looking at you with sullen eyes. You’re alive. But nearly died because of him. 

He apologizes in a soft whisper, and right when you don’t expect it, he cries. A few tears dropping from his eyes, sinking into the skull balaclava.

In hindsight, Dad! Ghost feels terrible. Not only at your traumatic experience, but if you’re mad at him or how he now feels incapable of being your father now. He promised to himself that he would protect you. And he didn’t, causing this terrifying encounter for you. 

For now, he’s focused on you waking up — watching how you breathe, his own fingers playing with yours, consistently looking at your vitals and pulse; fidgeting with everything. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[probably-writing-x]

Fragmented

Summary: could you write one an ant from hbh x reader where the readers bee best friends with spider and dusty for years and is dating ant but she gets roofied and they get protective? only if your comfortable tho im just a sucker for hurt/comfort!!

Warnings: Discussions and descriptions of spiking / drugs (support for these issues is linked at the bottom), swearing, mentions of assault / potential assault, alcohol use, panic attacks and discussions of anxiety

Word Count: 3.6k

“There she is!” Ant grins as soon as you walk through the door, his entire being seeming to light up in your presence.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” You smile as you walk into Dusty’s room.

Ant is laying across the bed with Dusty and Spider sat on the edge of the bed playing COD zombies together. Neither of them turn around.

“And hello to you too,” You roll your eyes, closing the bedroom door behind you and walking over to Ant.

“Sorry, hi,” Dusty says quickly, “We’ve just got to-“

His words trail off again as they focus back onto the game.

You look over and Ant stretches his arms out for you, waiting for you to crawl into the space there. He relaxes as soon as you’re in his arms, sinking into the contact as you lay back against his chest, his legs on either side of you. His arms wrap around your waist and his head buries into your neck, kissing the exposed skin there.

“(Y/n) there’s beer in the mini fridge,” Spider mentions, the two of them still directly focused on the screen in front of them.

“They’ve been playing for at least an hour,” Ant mumbles into your ear, kissing you again.

You hum against the contact, “You’re not allowed to play?”

He laughs, “I’m too good for them.”

You’d been friends with all of the boys since kindergarten. Your Dad had enrolled you into a soccer team and you, at the time, were the only girl on the team. At that age, it didn’t seem to matter. All of you stumbled over the ball, scored into tiny fake nets and only played about fifteen minutes before you got bored. You’d then all gone to school together and, really, it felt like you’d been inseparable ever since.

It was two years ago when that had turned into something more between you and Ant. He’d always been the one you were closest to. He was the one, at first, that had always included you in everything. And he was the first one to defend you when someone was rude to you. He made you laugh more than the other two did, as if his humour could be tailored to you. When you were 14, you’d been camping at the lake with the boys. Ant was sharing a tent with you and he’d kissed you. He was nervous and scared and he didn’t know what to do with his hands but it was adorable. He’d got much better at kissing since then. Much better. Spider and Dusty had been weird about it at first - they’d said it would make things awkward and that it would be even worse if things didn’t work out. But then it just… did. You fit together, they realised it as much as you did. And, despite you two being young, nobody really saw this ending any time soon.

“Fucking hell,” Spider grumbles, tossing his controller back onto the mattress.

“Is it over?” You laugh, running your fingertips over Ant’s arms around your torso.

“Yeah Dusty fucked it,” Spider rolls his eyes, “You’ve still got the high score.”

You shrug, “What can I say? I’m just better than all of you.”

“Fuck off we taught you how to play!” Dusty kicks your leg gently.

Ant rests his chin on top of your shoulder, kissing your cheek, “Can’t we just stay here tonight?”

“No, no, no, come on,” You push up from his chest, “We said we’d go.”

“Yeah everybody’s going,” Spider points out, standing up from the bed too, “Plus, we’re already late.”

Ant groans and flops his head back against the pillow below him, “Okay I need to drink.”

———

The party’s happening in a warehouse downtown. You weren’t really sure how you’d ended up here, but Spider had overheard it from someone at school and got you all invited. There was music blaring from speakers and people you didn’t recognise and a million bodies moving around one expansive dance floor.

Ant places a hand on your back, smoothing his fingers over the material of your top. He liked being near to you. He was sure holding you could make him feel better about anything.

“Should we get a drink?” Dusty yells over the music and the boys agree.

All four of you walk over towards one side of the room and fill up cups from the kegs stacked up on one side. Spider makes a comment about how dirty the cups probably were and for a moment you question if it’s even worth having one. But you pour yourself a cup anyway, taking a sip of the lukewarm beer.

“I’m just going to go say hi to the girls,” You lean into Ant, “Are you guys staying here?”

“Yeah yeah we’ll be about,” He nods, bobbing his head to the beat of whatever song was playing.

“Alright, I won’t be long,” You squeeze his hand and walk off towards where you could see Amerie and Harper on the other side of the room.

—

That was the last time Ant had seen you before it happened. He watched you as you walked away, he always did. And he watched as you hugged Amerie and Harper in turn, before he turned back to the boys and made a comment about trying to find each of them a wife. He’d finished what was left of his cup and then poured out another one and knocked back half of that.

Dusty said they should go towards the crowd and Ant had looked back to make sure you were still within his eye line. You were with the girls, laughing about something one of them had said. And so he’d followed behind the boys into the crowd, just enough on the edge that you’d be able to see them when you came back. He didn’t think anything of it really. Everyone that you knew was here, plus another few hundred that you didn’t. It was all people your own age, all underage and worried about getting caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing. It was a harmless party.

He only started to worry when it had been a while since he’d seen you. Ant looked back over to where the girls had been stood but he couldn’t see any of you anymore. He’d glanced over towards the drinks, hoping to see you there, but you were nowhere to be seen. Maybe you’d gone to the toilet. He couldn’t see enough through the crowd to be able to figure it out.

“Guys should we go look for (Y/n)?” He’d turned around to the boys.

Spider looked at him with a frown, “She’s not answered your text?”

“No,” Ant shakes his head, shouting over the music.

“What if she comes back here and can’t find us?” Dusty returns.

They all worried about you, always. Not only did your boyfriend, but the other two treated you like a little sister. They were always going to worry.

Before they have a chance to worry any longer, Harper comes pushing through the crowd for them. She’s flustered and out of breath and her eyes are burning with panic.

“It’s (Y/n).”

Ant felt his stomach drop, his entire body go into overdrive at the thought of what could have happened.

Spider grasps his shoulder and it forces him through the crowd, the boys hurrying after Harper who leads them through.

They end up outside, the breeze hitting them as Amerie crouches beside you at the side of the road.

“What’s happened?” Dusty speaks first as Ant rushes to your side.

Your hair is disheveled and your mascara has run and your whole body is shaking.

“She just got like really drunk out of nowhere,” Amerie explains, “We thought she’d just drank too much but it all happened so fast. Like twenty minutes and she was just gone.”

“She had one drink,” Spider mentions, “I mean, we had a beer at the house. But one drink here.”

“What the fuck was in that drink?” Harper shakes her head, “This is fucked up.”

Ant let you fall into him, his arm propping you up against his side as you mumbled incoherently. He knew you couldn’t see straight, from the way your eyes looked darker and uncertain. You were holding onto his shirt and your entire body felt like it could crumble in front of him.

“We need to call somebody or get help or something,” Dusty encourages, “She could’ve been spiked.”

“Who the fuck would do that?” Amerie exclaims, “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

They all look between each other, the panic bouncing in the air between them all as Ant holds you like you’re seconds away from disappearing.

———

Your entire body feels heavy and trapped when you wake up, like your mind is waking up before your limbs do. Crisp white lights, rhythmic beating, wires and tubes, the distant hum of conversations you couldn’t make any sense of.

You felt sick and hungry and tired and thirsty and yet felt nothing all at the same time. And you were alone.

“Alright alright shhhhhh.”

You’d know that voice anywhere.

“She needs to-“ It cuts off instantly as soon as he sees you, “Wait she’s awake!”

“She?” You croak out, your words hoarse and painful.

“(Y/n),” Ant half-laughs, breathing out a sigh of relief into the sound of your name.

Like the sight of you had made half of his worries float away almost instantly. Your eyes, now semi-adjusted to the light, catch the sight of all three boys making their way back into the room. Dusty’s carrying food bundled into his arms and Spider’s got a balloon and Ant’s carrying the biggest teddy bear he could manage.

“This was the only balloon they had,” Spider grimaces, tying the string to the barrier on one side of the hospital bed.

You catch a glimpse of it, a pink foil heart shaped helium balloon covered in the words ‘it’s a girl’.

“And we got you your favourite snacks, or at least everything that the hospital shop had,” Dusty explains, dumping them down onto the tray table at your bedside.

Ant still hasn’t spoken, like he just needed to see you to make himself feel okay. Like he just needed to know you were here.

“Wh-“ You cough out, pushing yourself up to sit up a bit more in the bed, “What happened?”

“You-“ The boys all look between each other, like a silent conversation, before they all take up spots on either side of the bed.

Spider and Dusty on one side and Ant on the other. Ant takes your hand in his.

“You were-“ Ant takes a deep breath, “We think you were spiked last night, at the party.”

You feel your body freeze like the words have invoked a shock response, trying to rack your tired brain for any sign of memory from the night before. Nothing.

“The girls were with you, Am and Harper,” Spider mentions, “They think it might’ve happened before you went to the toilet.”

“You just got very bad very quickly, and they knew something was wrong. You fell over and cut yourself up a bit and they took you outside and that’s when they came to find us,” Dusty continues, his brows furrowing in their concern.

“You couldn’t really talk, you couldn’t stand, so we called the ambulance and they decided to bring you in,” Spider adds, “We all got questioned last night but we couldn’t really help, we just kept telling them we didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“I don’t-“ Your voice is shaky this time, and you realise how quickly your heart was beating, “I don’t remember any-“

Your bottom lip quivers, your hands starting to tremble.

“I don’t remember anything.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ant speaks so softly, his arm wrapping around you to pull you into his side, “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“The doctor told us that you might not remember a lot of it. It’s one of the side effects, she told us it’s like being the most drunk you’ve been, but just a lot worse,” Spider explains, reaching out a hand to squeeze your knee.

You look around at the three of them, faces all full of worry. They were all sleep deprived, dark circles under their eyes, same clothes as last night, surviving off of the adrenaline and worry they’d had since the moment they’d seen you outside. You knew you were okay, the girls had stayed with you, the boys had found you, the boys were here now. And yet a thousand thoughts circled through your brain of what could have been. Of what happened without you knowing. Of what would have happened had you been alone.

You feel the sickness boil in your stomach, churning over with every fearful thought.

“(Y/n)?” It’s Spider’s voice, “You with us?”

You blink away the blur from your eyes and force a small smile, “Yeah, yeah.”

———

You’re back at school the following week. And everybody is already talking about the weekend. Ant holds your hand as you walk into school, his fingers laced with yours and his shoulder bumping yours with every step he takes. You can see people looking at you, people pointing out the cut on your cheek or weighing up how bad they thought you looked.

“Hey, the guys are already in class,” He mentions, nudging your shoulder as the two of you divert towards class.

You’d been with him all weekend, he’d stayed at yours and done everything for you. He’d made you food, brought you tea, checked on you every ten minutes, let you watch your favourite films. He was determined to make sure you were okay and, on surface level, you were. You weren’t feeling sick anymore, your headache had eased, your muscles didn’t feel as weak, even the injuries from that night had started to heal. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. And for every time you told Ant you were okay, you felt like you were lying to him just a little bit.

“Thank god you’re here!” Dusty exclaims as soon as the two of you walk in, “I need you to back me up on this one.”

“What’s going on?” Ant frowns, setting his and your books down onto the desk beside the boys.

“Okay if you had to live in a movie, the right option is Avengers, right?” Dusty explains, “Like why wouldn’t you want that?”

“It’s Jurassic Park!” Spider defends, “Who gives a shit about superheroes when you could just walk around with dinosaurs?”

“Did you… watch Jurassic Park?” Ant frowns, sitting down on the edge of the table and wrapping his arms around you so that you can perch between his legs.

“Shit goes wrong in Avengers all the time! And if you weren’t a superhero then you’re just one of those boring people in the street that has to run away from the bad guy,” Spider shakes his head, “What do you think (Y/n)? What film would you live in? Marvel or Jurassic Park?”

“Urm,” You clear your throat, “Surf’s Up.”

“Oooooh, and (Y/n) wins,” Dusty smiles, “Well played.”

They carry on their conversation about films and bring up all of the worst options they can think of. Spider gets Dusty into a headlock when he persists that Jurassic Park is one of the worst options. The two of them go tumbling into one of the desks.

“Hey, you okay?” Ant says softly into your ear.

You turn around and offer him a smile, “I’m okay.”

He kisses your cheek and you stand up from the desk, settling into your own seat with Ant beside you. He puts an arm around the back of your chair, swirling patterns on your shoulder like he always did. He was an affectionate boy, with nobody but you.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You look up to see Amerie and Harper walking over towards you as Spider and Dusty take the seats adjacent to you and Ant.

“We just wanted to check you were okay,” Amerie says, “Im so sorry that happened to you.”

“Oh, um,” You shake your head, “You don’t need to say sorry. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“We should’ve been watching more,” Harper encourages, “I mean seriously that’s so scary what happened.”

“Yeah I can’t believe how quick it all went,” Amerie adds on, shaking her head, “It’s seriously fucked up.”

“But we’re glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks girls,” You nod, “And thank you for… you know… helping.”

They both offer you that sympathetic smile you’d been seeing a little too often in the past few days. You appreciated the concern from everyone, it was nice. But you weren’t sure you could deal with another person checking up on you. They cared too much, right? You were fine. You were totally and utterly fine.

But there was a tightness in your chest that wouldn’t let up. It remained sat there, heavy and clenching. And the more you thought about that night, the tighter it got.

“Alright everybody settle down!” The teacher calls from the front of the class and everyone seems to settle into their spaces.

Ant keeps an arm over the back of your chair, as close to you as you can get. And you try to take a deep breath to ease the tightness in your chest. It doesn’t seem to go.

———

You’ve got sport next, and the boys are doing basketball on one side whilst the girls are on the other. The sports hall feels warm and stuffy and you’re certain the tightness in your chest has only got worse.

“(Y/N)?” It’s Harper’s voice that cuts through to you, flinching you from your thoughts, “You good?”

“I-“ You clear your throat, blinking, “I’m good.”

Just then, one of the boys yells something from the other side of the hall - you don’t know what, but the volume seems to cut through you. You feel yourself flinch again, your chest seemingly tightening even more. You feel like you’re trying to take a step forward and yet your feet are stuck in their exact spot. Like you’re sinking. Your body feels heavy and weak all at once and you’re completely out of control. Your vision starts to blur and your ears are pounding and all attempts at breathing seem to be escaping you. Like your body is fighting against itself.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s one of the girls again, coming over towards you in the sports hall.

But you’re not there. You’re back at the party and they’re coming over to you again, and you’re just as out of control as you were that night. You can make out the faint silhouettes of the boys - too far from you. And you can’t get to them, your mind and your body and your brain won’t allow you.

And then it all just seems to go dark.

———

When you next wake up, you’re in the uncertain surroundings of the nurse’s office. It smells of cleaning products and linen and the bed is rock solid beneath you.

“(Y/n),” The nurse smiles at you from over the room, “How are you feeling?”

Your throat is dry and your head is pounding, “What happened?”

“Well, you had a panic attack,” She says softly, “You didn’t pass out but it seemed you were very close to, your friends brought you here and you fell asleep not long after.”

You nod, “I don’t really remember much of it.”

“That’s okay, that’s completely normal,” She assures you, “There’s somebody that’s been waiting outside if you’re feeling up for having a visitor.”

You nod and sit on the side of the bed, your legs crossed beneath you. When she opens the door and steps outside, it’s Ant that comes in to keep you company.

“There she is!” He smiles softly, speaking so gently it almost doesn’t sound like him, “I thought you might be cold.”

He hands over his black hoodie to you and you pull it on, breathing in the lingering scent of his aftershave.

“How are you feeling?” Ant asks, taking his spot on the bed beside you, facing you.

“I’m okay, I’ve never had that happen before with a panic attack,” You shake your head, “I just couldn’t move or anything it was so scary.”

“Hey,” He reaches out and takes your hand, “You’ve also never been through anything like what happened to you at the weekend, and you’re allowed to be struggling with that.”

“I just-“ You shake your head, “People keep asking me if I’m okay and I keep saying I am but… I just keep thinking what would have happened if…”

Your bottom lip quivers and Ant wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

“Im never going to let that happen, (Y/n), I promise you,” He mumbles into you, “And I’ll be as patient as you need to help you deal with all of this.”

You pull away from him just enough to look into his eyes, letting them inject into you the warmth that he seemed to ooze.

“We can talk about it, we can find a therapist if you feel like that would help, we can speak to the police again, we can do anything,” He encourages, brushing your hair away from your face and cupping your cheek, “But I need you to know that I’m here, okay?”

You nod and lean into his touch as he smooths his thumb over your skin.

You sniff, “Thats the most serious I’ve ever seen you, Ant.”

He laughs, “Yeah I can be serious when I want to be.”

You smile and he leans in to kiss you as if he wants to seal the smile there. Seal the small fraction of yourself that he could see coming through. And he meant it, he’d do whatever he could to get all of those fractions back.

———————

Helpful Links

Stamp Out Spiking

Alcohol Think Again (AU)

Crisis Text Line

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Lost in Ikea. || John Price x Reader

For @glitterypirateduck's “O, Captain!” writing challenge! I used prompts:

4. Lost in an IKEA

41. Price and Reader run into each other (literally)

48. A character tries to hide that they are crying or upset

Rating: E Words: 1.3K cw: period/menstruation + symptoms, feelings of inaddequacy?. Tags: afab!reader (bc menstruation), you/your pronouns but no Y/N, crying, hurt/comfort, strangers. Summary: Reader is just having a bad day and John is a kind stranger. a/n: I just needed a little hurt/comfort for the soul. This isn't too serious. Also the 'lost' part of Ikea is more emotional than physical. ALSO ALSO, OFC I HAD TO DO THIS PROMPT, my screen name is literally Ikea.

Should you have gone to Ikea while on your period, when you’re in pain and light-headed and in a mood to kill a man? No.

Here’s the thing, you wanted a specific little bear plush they sell there (DJUNGELSKOG). And a meal from the restaurant. And maybe a new lamp. And a new set of bed covers and pillows. And honestly, you could use a little trolley for your craft supplies. And since you’re there you might as well no longer postpone buying that shelf you need-

You walked around the store for over two hours just looking at everything and, steadily, filling up your card with more than you expected. Little knick-knacks, a new set of cups for the kitchen, a picture frame, etc. etc. 

You took your time, moved at your own pace, slowly observing all the room displays… Maybe got lost at one point, but that’s neither here nor there.

Once you found a storage trolley you liked, as well as a shelf, you advanced through the warehouse, pushing your large cart along.

The trolley came first. It was small and light enough and after checking that the box said White, you found yourself perfectly able to drag it onto the large metal warehouse platform cart.

But then the shelf- you crouched down and tried to get a grip on the box and pull, but the bitch was heavy. You huffed and struggled, but it wouldn’t budge. It probably didn’t help that both your womb and your lower back were throwing a rager of cramps and all your muscles were sore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come on your period. Another weekend, any other weekend, and you’ve been strong enough to get the box with the disassembled shelf off its perch… But you wanted to do it today! 

You wanted to feel like you got something done. You wanted the sense of accomplishment… You wanted to feel like you persevered through the pain! 

You had the whole day planned out: You got out of bed, you showered, you had proper food and a desert, you cleaned your house, you went outside, and you finally completed something you had been putting off!

You couldn’t leave without the last one! You had to get it out! You wanted to take the stupid shelf home with you!!!!

Tears start pooling in your eyes, your lip beginning to tremble. You’ll blame it on the hormones and the frustration.

Stomping your feet, you walk down the aisle, abandoning your cart and turn the corner intent on pushing the box out from the other side-

Then you smack into a person and it knocks you so off balance (you were already sort of light-headed either way) that you drop onto the linoleum floor.

If the day wasn’t already bad enough and you weren’t already crying, taking a hard seat on the floor in front of a stranger only made you feel that much worse.

“Christ, you alright?” A man’s concerned voice comes from above you. You wince and close your eyes hard, trying to conceal the tears in them.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry. I was in a hurry and wasn’t paying attention.” You murmur and turn to the side, using the floor and the industrial shelf next to you to pull yourself up to your feet.

“No, I’m sorry, I was walking fast too.” He replies. “I wasn’t fast enough to catch you. Might be getting old. My reflexes aren’t what they used to be.” His tone sounds playful, like he’s trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, haha.” You try to laugh it off. You still haven’t properly glanced at him and he can tell that you’re trying to conceal your redened eyes as you look off to the side.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Didn’t hurt you, did I?” He checks, his voice a lot more gentle.

God, you feel pathetic. Crying in front of a stranger in the middle of an IKEA warehouse. 

“I’m fine… Just… having a bad day.” You reply and for a moment you finally look over at him.

Great. On top of making a fool of yourself in front of a stranger who happens to be super kind, said stranger is also older and hot, definitely a dilf. Great, just great. You really should’ve stayed at home today.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He replies softly as he peers at you with bright blue eyes under thick brown eyebrows.

“It’s fine. Sorry. Didn’t mean to make this whole thing awkward. I’m sorry.” You turn to return to your things. Fuck the damn shelf, you’re going home and never coming to this IKEA again.

“Wait. Hey!” He says as he calls after you. Turning to look at him, your face twists into an upset, embarrassed look.

“You don’t have to apologise for having a bad day or having a cry, it’s alright.” The man says as he approaches you again when you’re already at your cart.

As he speaks, you notice there’s no pity in his tone, or some sort of cringe-riddled sentiment of awkwardness that comes to normal people when a stranger suddenly overshares. He’s just… kind.

Your face softens a bit more and you quickly turn to look away. Instead, your eyes find the stupid box with the shelf you want, still on the industrial shelves, and you start crying more.

“I just want that bloody shelf and it’s… it’s too heavy and I can’t get it into the cart and- I can’t believe I’m crying over this!” You complain and gesture vaguely to the space in front of you as you find yourself sniffling.

“Alright. Hey, it’s alright.” He assures you and gives you a friendly tap on the back, on your shoulder, over your hoodie. “How about I get it for you?” He asks.

You find yourself looking up at him. “I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Not at all!” He says with a friendly smile and a nod. “I’m plenty strong and I’m already here! Plus, imagine me walking away now after offering?” He jokes.

You can’t help the chuckle the escapes you amidst your broken sobs. “Would’ve been proper rude.”

“Of course it would. And my mum raised me right.” He adds playfully, causing another chuckle to rise out of you. “That’s the smile I wanted.” He cheers.

John moves forward and crouches, helping to slide the heavy box off the shelf with a mighty grip of his big hands, sliding it onto the bottom of the metal cart with the rest of your shopping. “There it is.”

“Thank you…” You murmur as you seek for tissues in your pockets, grabbing one to dab away your tears.

“It’s alright.” He assures you again. “And, for the record, there’s no shame in crying. If you would’ve asked me 3 days ago what I was doing, I’d tell you I was having a good sob in my car after going to the supermarket because I was so tired and overwhelmed.” He admits and chuckles.

“You?” You ask, not quite sure if he was being sincere.

“Oh, yeah. I cry all the time, me.” He tells you and winks one of those blue eyes at you, making you chuckle again.

“Well, thank you, erm…” You trail off, realizing you don’t know his name.

“John.” He says while reaching a hand forward for you to shake. You return the introduction with your own name.

“You think you’ve got this? Or are you gonna need help getting it into the car?” He gestures at your entire cart.

“Oh, shite, you’re right… Need to get this into the car…” You groan and facepalm yourself.

“Tell you what-” John says as he looks at you. “You wait for me while I get the rest of my things-” He takes a list of paper with scribbled reference numbers on it from his pocket. “And we’ll go through checkout together, and I’ll help load this up into your car?”

His offer is so sweet and sincere and kind, you find your eyes clouding with tears again. Then, you nod eagerly and dab away the tears with your crumpled up tissue again.

[ O, Captain! Masterlist ] || [ My Masterlist ]

[vivwritesfics]

I have read the fic with witch! Oscar but can I have it with Charles? If not that's okay!

Thanks in advance!!

I took this chance to write out one of the fics from my list i've got so two birds one stone

"You're not dead."

Charles couldn't quite believe his eyes. He'd seen the werewolf snap her neck, had seen her limp body fall to the floor, and had checked for a pulse that wasn't there. There was no way she should have been alive.

But she shrugged her shoulders and rubbed at her neck. It hurt, but not enough to kill her, that was sure. "Do you even remember what happened?" Charles asked as he stepped closer and looked at her neck. No puncture wounds, no sign of a vampire bringing her back.

She shook her head. "We went to that warehouse and boom, nothing until this morning."

Charles stepped closer to her. He grasped her hand and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her. She was alive. How the hell was she alive?

She slept over in his apartment that night, clearly exhausted after coming back to life. Not that she was aware of it. But, as she slept, Charles pulled out the book that Sebastian had given him and performed a spell.

The magic wrapped around her, telling him everything he wanted to know. "Shit," he hissed and closed the spell book. He put it back onto his shelf and climbed into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

Charles was different around her after that night. She couldn't put her finger on why, but things were different. It was almost like he was avoiding her. And she needed to know why.

One day, one of the few times days that Charles had invited her to stay the night, she confronted him. Well, confronted might be a strong word. Instead, she slipped into his lap and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Charlie, what's going on?" She asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. "Try and remember this time," he said.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in her back. She let out a gasp, her eyes growing wide. "... Fuck," she choked out. "Charles."

Her body dropped from his lap onto the floor. Charles pulled the knife from her back, cleaned it and put it back. He just hoped the spell he cast was enough to help her to remember.

Just an hour later, she was standing up, body uncomfortable from where she was laying on the floor. "What the hell?" She groaned as she looked around from her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend who was at his piano. As soon as she laid eyes on him, the memory came flooding back. Sitting on his lap, the pain in her back, falling to the floor and then dying. She was dead. Holy fuck, she had died.

And, with the way Charles was looking at her, he wasn't surprised to see her alive.

She began running. "Fuck," he hissed, lifting his fingers away from his piano keys. She chased after her, trying desperately to catch her. "Y/N! Wait! Let me explain!" He shouted, desperately reaching for the back of her shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and taking her back to the apartment. "Charles! No, put me down!" She shouted, trying desperately to get away from him. "I'll go dead weight!" She completely slumped her, making it near impossible to hold onto her. But it was no problem for Charles.

Charles took her back into the apartment. He used magic to lock the door and dropped her onto the couch. "Just hear me out," he said as he crouched in front of her. He didn't use magic to hold her there, but she didn't try and move.

"Two weeks ago I went to a warehouse to deal with werewolves," he said. "You followed me and I didn't know until a werewolf snapped your neck and you were laying there, dead. I had no choice but to leave your body there but, by the time I went back for you, you were gone."

She shook her head. That didn't happen, that never happened.

"The next day you showed up at my apartment and I couldn't believe it. So I did a spell and I learnt that you... can't die. I had to make sure, so I stabbed you, and here we are," he said and let out a sigh. "I wouldn't have done it if I knew it really would hurt you."

She couldn't quite believe it. But it had happened. She knew it happened, she'd remembered it.

"So, I can't die and you're a witch," she said as she looked down at him. "What do we do now?"

"We could go back to normal?" Charles suggested. But it would have been a miracle if she'd take him back.

But they tried it. She wanted to go back to normal, wanted him to hold her, to make her feel loved like he normally did. Charles didn't bring up her immortality. She didn't bring up the fact that he was a witch. Everything was normal.

But then his mentor, Sebastian, came to him with a little problem. "Charles, I need a human sacrifice for a protection spell," he said to him one day.

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew exactly what Seb's problem was. He was a pacifist, he didn't want to have to kill anybody for a spell. If Charles did it, his hands were clean.

He didn't know Y/N was listening in on his conversation. Not until she nervously stepped towards them. "I can help," she said, somewhat nervously.

Instantly Charles shook his head. "Ma chérie, no," Charles said softly and pulled her close.

"No, Charles. I can do it and he won't have to kill anybody."

And that was how Charles started using his girlfriend as a sacrifice, because she couldn't die (it was the perfect arrangement).

[holylulusworld]

Caught Cold

Title: Caught Cold

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: B3: mission gone wrong

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, chasing, sex pollen, implied mating

Summary: Something goes wrong on your latest mission.

Word Count: 992

Written for @buckybarnesevents "Hot Bucky Summer" - Week 6 - "I won't be able to stop myself. + Sex Pollen + Gone feral

A white mist fills the room after you drop one of the vials you found at the old warehouse. You curse yourself, already hearing Bucky nag. He’s not a big fan of you, especially because you are an omega. If you just screwed this mission up, you won’t hear the end of it.

Bucky holds up his right hand. “AGENT Y/L/N, no! What did you do?“ There’s something in his voice you've never heard before. Panic, fear, even. “We gotta get out of here.”

He covers his mouth and nose with his gloved hand. “OUT!”

“Out?” You look around the room. Everything was normal a few seconds ago, and now the former Winter Soldier looks like he saw a ghost. “Sergeant, we have our orders. Captain Rogers wants us to secure the information.”

“OUT!” It’s more of a growl than a word. Bucky takes one step toward you, still covering his mouth. “Y/N, stop talking back for once. We need to...”

His whole body suddenly sizes up. The strong and undefeatable supersoldier falls to his knees. He slams his fists into the ground.

“Sergeant?” You step away from him. Bucky is a little broody, grumpy even. But the man kneeling on the ground stares up at you with glowing eyes. “Sergeant Barnes?” Now you panic. He slams his metal fist into the ground. “You’re scaring me.”

“You…” He growls deep and guttural. “You need to run. Go now.” Bucky seems to fight with an invisible force. He rams his fist into the ground to keep himself from getting back up.

“Why?” You are panicking now. “Sergeant? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“I can smell your pussy,” he snarls in your direction.

“What?” You drop your eyes to your crotch. Can he really smell that his closeness arouses you? You heard that alphas could smell when you are fertile, but can he smell your slick too? "Sergeant, we can’t leave. Why do you want to leave?”

“I won’t be able to stop myself.” Bucky groans loudly as he rams his metal fist into the ground again. “OMEGA!” He purrs low in his throat.

“Oh. God.” You step back, shaking your head, when he gets back on his feet. Bucky cracks his neck and flexes his metal arm. He stares at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“RUN!” It’s the last warning you’ll get. Bucky is close to losing his mind. His alpha is taking over, and there is no rational thought left.

You finally set things into motion and ran out of the room. While Bucky growls your name, you try to get in contact with Steve and the rest of the team.

“Captain Rogers, this is an emergency. I think something is wrong with Sergeant Barnes,” you pant while looking over your shoulder. “Can you hear me? Copy?”

All you get is radio silence. Crap. This is the worst time to lose contact with your team.

“OMEGA!” You shriek when you hear Bucky chase after you. Fuck, for a man his size, he’s fucking fast and stealthy. “Come here.”

Like a wild animal, he chases after you, growling your name as you start running again. Your heart thunders in your chest, and your brain goes a mile a minute. You’re torn between following his alpha command and the fear that causes you to run faster.

Until now, you believed that Bucky would never hurt you. But he’s not himself, and you fear he’ll kill you if he gets his hands on you.

He didn’t warn you for nothing.

“Stop running from me.” He’s so close you can smell his sweat. Fuck, how can that fucker run so fast without being out of breath? “OMEGA!”

“Sergeant,” you stumble back. “You need to calm down.” You raise your hands. “I know that I broke the vial, but that’s no reason to kill me!”

“Kill you,” he bares his teeth and chuckles. “I won’t kill you.” You swallow thickly as his eyes drop to your crotch. “I only want to claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Bucky dips his head. He smirks, and, you swear, it looks like the fucker is having a blast chasing you around.

“Sergeant,” you giggle. “I’m flattered really, but...uh…this is not the time to think about your knot.” You point at him. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

His eyes darkened at your words. “Stop running away from me. Give up. This is your fault for breaking the vial. You released the sex pollen.”

“Sex pollen?” You visibly relax and release a shuddery breath as the realization hits you. Bucky watches you put your hands on your hips. You glare at him and snort. “I don’t think so. I knew something was fishy about this mission. Sharon tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. Tricking the rookie, a new low for you, Sergeant.”

Tony and Steve step into the warehouse, clapping their hands.

“Congratulations, Agent Y/L/N; you’re the first to see through Bucky’s act.”

“You fucker,” you storm toward Bucky to push against his shoulders. “You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were about to mate me.”

“Our job here is done, don’t you think?” Tony says. He laughs when you give him the stinky eye. “We should let Buckethead handle things from here. It was his idea to play crazy alpha.”

Steve and Tony are gone before you can give them a piece of your mind too. You glare at Bucky, waiting for an explanation.

“Oh, doll,” Bucky smirks darkly. “If I mate you, it won’t be at a warehouse with the team around. I’ll chase you until you cannot run away any longer, and then I’ll lay claim on your body and sink more than my teeth into your body.”

“Uh, are you sure there wasn’t any sex pollen in there?” You mirror his smirk and dip your head. “Because… I can do this all day long.”

With that, you start to run, hoping Bucky will fulfill his promise and chase you again.

His heavy footsteps fill your ears seconds later, and you know Bucky intends to keep his promise...

Find the alternative version here: Caught Cold - Alternative version

Tags in reblog.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, grief & difficult conversations, discussions around canon-typical violence, smoking, angst, all hurt no comfort

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Part Twenty-Four of Ink & Needle

Walsh leaves another note. Price might know your location. Simon prepares to leave.

Chapter Twenty-Three // Chapter Twenty-Five

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

It rained that night.

Simon turns his gaze upward into stunning light.

There is no rain. No boom of thunder. No flash of lightning.

I burned like the seed.

Price, Johnny, and Kyle stand behind Simon in a half-moon, watching on like observers at a burial, but not part of the procession.

The sky watered my skin.

Simon takes a step forward. Underneath his boots is cracked concrete. From the fissures sprout green. Not weeds. No. Those don’t belong in a garden.

I germinated. I flowered. I grew.

This is grass. Fresh grass. And perfectly green.

Veins. Veins of grass. A network. A web. Stretching outward from a bountiful source.

We are gardens now. The two of us.

“Simon.”

Price’s voice is gruff. A warning. ‘Danger ahead’ is the tone.

But Simon is steadfast and uncaring of what happens to him. He takes another step, crushing blades of grass beneath his boots as he heads for the epicenter of it all.

This building is a shell. A construction site long abandoned and used as one of many covert warehouses under Walsh’s hat. This place burned. Melted.

Simon remembers how the smoke burned his lungs. How it was Price and Johnny that dragged him out even as the fire blazed around him. The ride in the helicopter is still blurry even after all these years.

Afterward, Price told him how it took several days for the fire to eventually burn itself out. Chemicals caused it, and dumping water on it did nothing. The blaze was contained. And then it was left to fade out.

It did.

Eventually.

By that point, Simon was in the hospital thinking he’d never walk again without a prosthetic.

We are gardens now. The two of us.

Simon comes to a stop just shy of the garden. Because that is what it is. A garden.

This is where they found Walsh’s body. Burnt to a crisp with Simon’s blade still lodged in the chest cavity. The handle partially melted.

Simon understands why Price is urging cautiousness.

It’s valid. Truly.

Regardless of the garden surrounding him, in the center of it all is a body.

Not your body. And not a stranger’s either.

It’s a charred corpse. The corpse of Kit Walsh that isn’t Kit Walsh at all. The one discovered after the fire burned out. The one taken back to a lab somewhere for examination before they ruled the wanker dead.

How it’s here, Simon doesn’t know. But it’s preserved well, as if everything only happened yesterday.

The knife is gone.

But in its place is a tree. Not a towering tree, but a young one. Still growing toward the light that shines down from above. The tree, and all the surrounding plants come from fire-activated seeds.

Seeds that are coated in thick resin. Seeds that need that resin burned away before they can germinate and grow.

Simon clearly remembers telling Walsh about it, back when Simon was undercover and Walsh considered Simon a friend and confidant.

The two of them walked the streets of Manchester, lingering in a part of the city that few like to visit and only if they have to. A group of young boys no older than fifteen were slinging it out in an alley.

“They only use their fists now,” Walsh had said. “Back then we used our teeth.”

“Those boys are just seeds coated in resin,” Simon had replied.

Walsh had given him the strangest look. “Fucking what?”

“Some seeds can’t germinate unless they’re burned first.” Simon had nodded toward the group of raging boys. “They are the resin-coated seeds. Their violence is the fire. It’ll melt away the resin. Crack the shell. They will grow. Become a garden.”

“A garden?” Walsh had laughed. “You’re fucking hilarious, mate. A fucking garden? Like my mum’s flower bed?”

“No,” Simon had replied, knowing his own story. Knowing how his father and his bite was the flame that melted Simon’s resin. He had cracked. Grew. But not into his father. Not into that monster.

He germinated and followed a different story.

“A path. They’ll choose a path.”

Price comes up beside Simon, pausing just shy of his shoulder.

“I thought she’d be here,” murmurs Simon, staring at the burnt body of fake-Walsh.

“She might still be alive, Simon.”

“It still has the toe tag.”

Price sighs. “It does.”

Johnny and Kyle appear in Simon’s peripheral. They hover for a moment before coming into view. They walk the perimeter on the opposite side, gazes locked on the garden as if they might find a clue.

Could be that there is, but Simon doesn’t see it.

You are not here.

The note appeared on his front door and Simon knew exactly where when the words flowed off the page to burrow into his skull.

It rained that night.

It did rain that night. It fell in sheets. Soaked right through Simon’s clothes before the fire dried it all away.

“We’ll find her, Simon,” says Price, squeezing Simon’s shoulder before taking a step to the right.

They all stare at the garden. They all look for clues.

Simon’s mind is a cobweb. Dusty. Full of so much and yet unable to recall anything of note. Walsh’s actions have suctioned Simon’s resolve right out of his body like embalming tubes, filling him with a dullness that won’t abate.

Maybe it’s because you’re gone, and half of his purpose is missing.

Simon moves, but it is aimless. He tramples the garden. Steps all over the blooming buds. Crushed. Damaged. That is all he knows to do.

His gaze scans the flora. Examines the body. Its neck is bent backward, mouth open as if seeking falling rain.

Simon moves toward it. Notices a flash of white.

As if yanked from a trance, Simon lunges, falling to his knees, not caring that his bad leg cries out angrily in protest.

“What is it?” asks Johnny, dropping down beside him.

Another note. Another fucking note.

White envelope. No postage. Simon’s full name handwritten on the front.

It’s exactly the same. A twin from the one found at Evie’s home. A twin from the one attached to his front door.

This time, his fingers shake as he opens it up.

The small piece of paper is thin. Wispy. Translucent like the paper you might find in a wrapped gift.

Simon stares down at the ink. It is solid and bold. Not smoke-kissed like the last one. Here, it bleeds. Nearly illegible.

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

“Simon?” comes Johnny’s voice, but it’s a distant thing.

Friend. Friend.

“I wasn’t your friend, Walsh,” whispers Simon.

“What is it, Simon?” It’s Johnny again, concern lacing his tone.

“I wasn’t your fucking friend!”

Johnny leans away from Simon as he staggers to his feet. Clutching the paper in his fist, raging anger blooms white hot in his chest.

Price approaches Simon, hands outstretched as if trying to calm an animal.

“Get the fuck away from me!” shouts Simon.

Johnny gets to his feet, moving backward. Kyle, Johnny, and Price all stare back at him. There is pity—so much of it. Simon hates it. He wants to rip it away. They look like they want to give Simon their condolences, as if you are already dead.

But there is no confirmation.

Walsh wouldn’t hold on to your corpse just to take the piss.

Would he?

Walsh stole the fake body. He held on to it. Grew a fucking tree in the chest cavity.

A tightness forms in Simon’s chest. It grows, and then he’s heaving, panic rising. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees as his body convulses, wanting air but not able to find it.

“Simon.”

It’s Price, but Simon turns away, stumbling forward. He moves out of the garden and then collapses to his knees. They strike grass-laced concrete.

No one comes near him. Not until it’s over and his breathing slows to something even and calm.

“We’re taking you home.”

“Captain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Simon.” Price puts all his authority in it, and Simon’s training rises to the surface, silencing him. “We’re taking you home. And I will handle this.”

Simon turns his head just enough to look at Price. “I want in.”

“I know.”

“I want in. I’m not asking.”

Price nods. “I know you’re not.”

The man sighs, glancing back at Johnny and Kyle. They linger near the edge of the garden, standing close but not touching. Gaz has removed his hat, holding it by the lip, speaking softly to Soap. Simon cannot hear their conversation.

Price returns his attention to Simon. “I want you to go home, and live as normally as you can. Let me take a look at our options. I will call. We’ll find her.”

Instead of walking away, Price presents his hand. “I’ll take it.”

Simon offers up the note without hesitation. Keeping it won’t do anything. It’ll only hurt more. It’ll only be a reminder.

Price nods and folds it up, placing it in his jacket pocket. Pushing up to standing, Price addresses Johnny. “I want this place picked apart. Call in who you can. And get me Laswell. I want Walsh fucking found.”

Distantly, Simon hears Johnny talking into a phone. Price talks too but it’s not to Simon. They are already making plans. Already moving toward the goal.

He is staring ahead. Hardly blinking. All the energy has been sucked from him.

It not Price or Soap, but Gaz that steps into Simon’s line of sight. He bends at the knee. Gets to Simon’s level.

“Let’s go, mate.”

Kyle offers his hand. Simon takes it.

The walk to the car is slow. Foggy. Like the trip to the hospital on the helicopter, this too is completely blurry. He doesn’t remember the drive out of Manchester and back to London. He doesn’t recall arriving outside his flat or the walk up the stairs.

There is nothing.

Only blankness.

Until Simon wakes—and realizes that the exhaustion finally overtook him, plunging him down into a black sleep that took all thought and dream and memory.

Routine keeps him together. It is the only comfort. Simon sinks into it. A distraction from everything. And between it all, Simon fills it with cigarettes and his favorite bourbon. If he didn’t love you, he’d likely be scrolling through his contacts thinking about how he can get his dick wet.

That’s what he used to do after you ran from him at Riot Room. He’d think of you and remember how you were forever out of reach. He’d wank one out to that shredded piece of thong in his drawer and be completely unsatisfied after.

From there, he’d find someone willing and warm. And that simmered the need. At least for a bit.

But he has you now. He loves you. Wants no one else.

The bourbon will do.

But it is a bloody shite substitute.

A day passes.

Then two. Then three.

After a week of radio silence, Simon feels the edges of madness closing in.

Evie calls, but Simon ignores her. She comes to the shop, and with hardened shame, Simon turns her away. It’s cruel. Completely fucking cruel.

But Simon cannot face her or anyone else. Not until he has an answer.

Whether you’re alive or dead, Simon will bring you home.

Amelia even comes—trying to talk sense. And yet Simon hardly cares. He stares blankly like he’s observing a wall. He says nothing. Doesn’t react.

Amelia eventually leaves. Clearly defeated.

A second week passes.

A third.

Simon is a zombie. He is decaying.

Lighting a cigarette, Simon takes up post on his balcony. It’s fucking cold. Winter is in full swing. Christmas has already come and gone. Simon didn’t go to Johnny’s family farm. Soap’s mum rang him just to check in. Apparently, Johnny was there. So was, Gaz.

Simon should have been there. You should have been there. He was so excited to bring you along, to introduce you to the two people in his life he can call parental figures.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette. Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

Though time has passed, Simon is still eager with each vibration of his phone. Every time it goes off, Simon reaches for it—lunges.

He does it now, expecting something yet knowing that it’s unlikely.

Think we found her.

Simon’s heart stops. Drops into his stomach before returning to his chest to thud loudly until it’s all he can hear.

Before Simon types out a response, Johnny sends coordinates.

Meet us here. Three days.

Three days. In three fucking days he’ll be closer to finding you.

Urgency tells Simon to just go—to just fucking leave.

Three days.

Three. Days.

Simon puts out the cigarette and heads inside. Clearing the kitchen table of takeout boxes and empty bourbon bottles, Simon opens up the scheduling planner with all his upcoming appointments. He sets to work, making calls, rearranging fucking everything.

He rebooks until his schedule is clear for two months out. Finding and returning home with you is not nearly enough. Simon has no idea what state you’ll be in when he finds you. If you are alive, you might not be whole, and Simon doesn’t want to dive into work again. You will need all his love and attention.

You deserve it. And he wants to give all that he has.

From there, Simon packs a duffle. Bravo watches on, padding nervously around the bedroom as Simon shoves things inside the bag.

“We’re going on a walk, Bravo,” says Simon, snagging the German Shepard’s leash from off its hook by the front door.

Stopping at Dancing Faun, Simon drops off an extra set of keys to 141 Ink for Ben. After, Simon walks Bravo to the one place he’s been avoiding for weeks.

He hesitates before knocking.

“Finally ready to talk?” asks Amelia, her arms crossed over her chest after she answers the door.

She might be short but her energy isn’t.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” replies Simon.

Amelia shrugs. “And?”

She’s irritated, but that’s understandable. Simon hasn’t exactly been polite to her.

“I’m leaving to bring her home.”

Amelia’s visible irritation melts away. Her arms slowly uncross, dropping to her sides. Eyes widening, she opens her mouth to speak, hesitating at the last second.

“Can you take care of Bravo?” asks Simon before Amelia has a chance to say anything.

She nods quickly, taking the offered leash, holding it against her chest as if she cradles something precious.

“You sure?” she asks, voice shaking slightly. “Are you absolutely sure, Simon?”

There are no details. Nothing to guide him. It is a blank canvas. A deep gash in his understanding. Too many variables bounce around, and Simon cannot seem to grab one out of the air. They slip through his fingers.

Too much uncertainty dwells within him.

“I’m sure,” he lies.

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[hypewinter]

The boy didn't know how far they had gone, he just knew it wasn't far enough. They would be after them, he knew this. He had to keep going. He had to find safety. And he had to do it fast. His arms hurt from carrying his baby brother, and he knew his sister was just barely keeping up now. As a whole they were all getting tired. Which in turn meant they were slowing down and would be found soon.

The boy couldn't let that happen, he had to get his siblings to safety. And he knew exactly where they'd be safe.

As they crossed over one last hill with the sun starting to rise, the city finally came into view. Good. There they would find his parents. There, they would be safe.

-------

The boy hadn't meant to sleep for long. He had just wanted to rest for a few minutes. An hour at most. He had found an abandoned warehouse and settled down under a tarp with his siblings. When they awoke however, it was to the sound of fighting, and the sun had long since gone down.

The boy scolded himself for being so careless as the sounds of fighting drew closer. He quickly gathered his siblings up, prepared to escape, when the fighters came into view.

He let himself gasp in delight. It was his father. Well, one of them at least. What was his name again? Oh right Nightwing. He was in the middle of fighting a group of thugs and the boy knew better than to distract him. He watched in awe as his dad spun and flipped, knocking the men out one by one.

The boy got so enthralled by his dad launching an escrima stick at someone, that he didn't notice when one of the thugs noticed them and started making his way over.

His sister let out a screech as the man lunged at them. The boy didn't hesitate. He intercepted the man like he was trained to do and in two swift motions, the man was down.

His vigilance now activated, the boy scanned the room, looking for any other threats. He noticed his dad had been temporarily distracted by the scream his sister let out, which had allowed the thug he was fighting to get a hit in. This was evident but the fact that his dad has stumbled back, holding his face.

The boy went to charge in to help his father but just then his second dad arrived.

"What the fuck is taking you so long?" he scowled as he shot off two rubber bullets towards the thug's knees. The man cried out and on his way down, Nightwing whipped him across the face with his escrima stick. The thug hit the floor, unconscious.

"I can't believe you were really struggling against these 3rd rates," his second dad tsked. The boy recalled being told his name was Red Hood. "Honestly, you might be losing your edge."

"I was distracted!" Nightwing shot back. "There were civilians present." He pointed towards the boy and his siblings.

The boy instinctively put his siblings behind him. Then he immediately felt stupid for it. He knew his fathers were good people. They were heroes after all. He knew they wouldn't hurt them, not like those people. And yet he still found himself tensing up as they drew closer.

Nightwing put his hands up. "It's okay, we won't hurt you."

"I know," the boy said, willing his nerves to calm down. "I was looking for you actually, I knew you'd help us."

The boy noticed how both of his fathers were alert now, ready to analyze everything he was about to say.

"The doctors, they're after us. We don't have anywhere to go, but I knew I could come here and find you. I knew you'd help us if I did."

The boy was trying desperately to keep his emotions in check but it was becoming increasingly hard now that his was so close to safety. His fathers must have noticed this too because Nightwing knelt down and said, "You must have had a hard time getting here. You've been so strong but it's okay now, we'll take care of you. I promise."

The boy couldn't hold it in any longer. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks as he began to cry. His father held him and patted his back gently as his cried. He sobbed as he finally felt some of the weight he was under lift. He knew that from now on, everything would be already.

--------

As he calmed down, embarrassment quickly overcame him. He can't believe he'd cried like a baby in front of not only his dads but also his siblings. He would have never been allowed to get away with that at the facility. The boy wiped at his face to dry the remaining tears and turned to his dad.

"I'm sorry Dad," he mumbled. "I didn't mean for our first meeting to go like this."

"Aw it's okay," Nightwing started. ".... Wait, what do you mean Dad?"

Uh oh, the boy hadn't meant to expose that part quite yet. He at least wanted to wait until all three of his fathers had gathered. There went that plan. Two out of three would have to be good enough. So he steeled his courage and said, "You're my dad. All the former Robin's are."

He saw his second father still out of the corner of his eye. So he turned to him. "That includes you and Red Robin," he stated. "But not the current Robin."

"I'm sorry back up," Nightwing interjected. "How do you know-"

"That you are the former Robins and also my dads?" The boy finished. His father nodded. "Well because I'm your clone," he stated.

There was a pregnant pause in the air before Red Hood spoke out. "What. The. Hell!?"

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 60: Fitz's Arrival

Prev > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, "kidnapping"

October 1925

The fog was thick and foreboding, the night chill and damp, as Alexander and Oliver made their way to the harbor district. Oliver was bundled in a fine wool coat lined with fur, a thick scarf and a practical hat, all provided by his master for his comfort, but he still felt a bit of the chill. Or perhaps it wasn't the weather at all, but his trepidation at meeting another vampire -- although this was, at least, one that his master trusted.

Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to have an unusual spring in his step despite the gloomy weather. Oliver thought that it might be the first time he'd noticed his master humming when it wasn't for the purpose of enthrallment. He'd been quite eager to get Oliver out the door, as well, explaining that his companion might get bored if he were left to wait long.

And so they were here on the docks with only a few dim gas lamps and a waning moon to keep Oliver from being as unable to see as when his eyes had been forced shut. Alexander had no such trouble, leading Oliver through the maze of crates and workers with ease.

"Hm, I thought he would be around here," said Alexander, brow furrowed. "Oliver, you wait here for a moment while I look around."

The last thing Oliver wanted was to be left alone in the dark. "But sir --"

A hand clapped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around him, and he was pulled backwards into the fog.

"Now, don't you worry," said a low, persuasive voice very near his ear. "You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me."

Oliver let out a muffled cry, hoping his master could hear, as he kicked at his assailant. He was unnaturally strong and the hand on his face was freezing cold -- a vampire, no doubt. His master's friend? But why would his master's friend…

"Ooh, you're more feisty than I expected. Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax…"

The hand on his face didn't feel cold any more, quite the opposite. A sensation of delicious warmth seemed to be radiating from the vampire, dulling Oliver's senses and enticing him to be at ease.

"There you go! Just be quiet," he said in a tone that made it very clear he knew the effect it would have on Oliver. "You can be quiet for me, can't you? So, so quiet…"

Oliver struggled to fight the twin effects of the euphoric touch and repeated hypnotic triggers, but he was rapidly losing. All his mind wanted to do was sink into this feeling of delicious drowsiness. "Master…" he called weakly.

"I told you, don't worry. Your master knows exactly where you are. Everything is going to be fine," said the vampire, and Oliver couldn't help but believe him. He certainly felt like everything was going to be fine as he slumped over in the stranger's arms.

The vampire removed his hand from Oliver's face, pinning him against a warehouse wall and running a gentle hand down his cheek and through his hair. The touch felt like nothing Oliver had experienced before, like cool, fresh water given to a parched man, drinking it in as much as he could and still not having enough. As the vampire became barely visible in the dim light, Oliver could see golden hair and a brash, confident grin, the face of a con-man who knew he was going to get away with it. He pressed his head into the vampire's hand, trying to get more of the heavenly touch, eyes half-lidded and already far gone.

"You were right, Lex," said the vampire. "He's absolutely ideal, a real treasure."

"Just as I told you." Alexander emerged from the fog. He looked calm, even happy, even though his thrall was currently very much in the clutches of another vampire. Even through Oliver's daze, he realized that this vampire really must be his master's friend, Fitz. "Have you had your fill of terrorizing poor Oliver, yet?"

"Terrorizing?" Fitz's laugh was as untrustworthy as his smile. "Why, Lex, I would never! Does your Oliver look terrorized to you?" He was practically pressed against Oliver now, brushing Oliver's hair from his eyes, running a finger down the side of his face and letting it linger on his lips.

Oliver could feel the euphoric delight of Fitz's touch even more strongly now, and with his master safely nearby and unconcerned, any desire he had to resist gave way to pleasure. "Mmm," he said, not even fully aware of how shamelessly he was nuzzling into Fitz's hand. His mind was fading away, only able to focus on how he needed more.

"You see, he's not terrorized at all. Are you, Oliver? Are you scared of me?"

"No, sir," he said, blinking slowly. "Not at all."

"I suppose you're all right then, aren't you?" said Alexander, and his master was at his side now, running his hand through Oliver's hair.

Oliver thought he might melt in this spot from the sheer pleasure, his knees growing weak. "I'm all right, sir," he said dreamily.

"Good boy," Fitz murmured into his ear. "You're very good for your master, aren't you?"

"I want to please him more than anything, sir…"

"Fitz," said Alexander with a hint of warning. "Do you really want to do this on a filthy, cold dock, when we could be entrancing Oliver in my library or bedroom?"

An involuntary shudder rippled through Oliver at the prospect of being taken into his master's bedroom to be entranced by him and his friend.

Fitz let out a dramatic mock sigh. "You have a point. I guess if I've been waiting this long, I can wait a little longer. Besides, I haven't greeted you properly yet."

"What do you mean…?"

Fitz relinquished his grasp on Oliver and scooped Alexander into his arms, twirling him around as though they were schoolchildren. Oliver shook himself a bit out of his trance to watch them. Alexander had a genuinely bright smile on his face in a way Oliver had never seen before, not even when Oliver was a free man and a shopkeep providing Alexander with a long sought after book, not even when his master drank. They kissed, and the kisses drew lower, down each other's necks…

So this was what truly pleased his master. Was it jealousy he felt? Perhaps he'd become used to being the center of Alexander's world, a comfort in captivity.

"They're always like this."

Oliver yelped at the voice right behind him, turning around to see a taller man with a plain brown suit and equally plain brown hair. He was dragging a huge steamer trunk behind him, and Oliver wasn't sure how he didn't hear this man's approach.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," he said. "You must be Oliver. I'm Roger, and I belong to the vampire you just… well, I suppose "met" isn't exactly the right word for it."

"Oh! You're a thrall, too?" Oliver was pleased that Fitz had brought along a thrall for him to talk to, especially one who seemed very put together. He held out his hand to shake. "It's good to meet you!"

Roger's handshake was firm. "Likewise. I hope my master's prank wasn't too troublesome."

"Well, it was surprising… but I can see now that he wasn't going to harm me."

Fitz, having put Alexander back on the ground, wrapped an arm around Roger. "My ears are burning. Are you talking about me?"

"I just think that you didn't have to manhandle Oliver by way of greeting, sir."

"How could I resist? You just don't understand how blood like yours and Oliver's smells. If you were in my shoes, you couldn't resist, either," He turned to Oliver. "But I guess I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Fitz, an old friend of your master's."

"Nice to meet you, sir," said Oliver, shaking Fitz's outstretched hand. "My master told me a bit about you."

"About how handsome and charming I am, no doubt," said Fitz, using the contact to pull Oliver closer. Oliver could feel the drowsy trance stealing over him again as he mindlessly shook Fitz's hand.

"Perhaps, but also about how you can't leave well enough alone." Alexander's hands closed around Oliver's shoulders, and he gently pulled him away from Fitz. "We should head back to the manor, not stand on the docks until the sun comes up."

"Of course." Fitz flashed a cheeky smile at Oliver, and Oliver couldn't quite make up his mind about this vampire. He could feel himself crave more of that touch, and wasn't sure he liked the hold it already had on him.

"You're not seriously making Roger drag your luggage, are you, when you could easily do it yourself?" Alexander asked, taking the handle of the steamer trunk from Roger.

"Roger doesn't mind. That's what thralls are for, right?"

Roger ignored him. "Thank you for taking the luggage, sir," he said to Alexander.

"It's no problem."

The group began to make their way out of the chill and foggy docks and into the slightly more hospitable city streets. "So how was your voyage, Fitz? As miserable as you made it seem?"

"Miserable and more! There was a storm the first night. The seas were so rough that I could barely even stay put in my bunk. Roger here was an absolute saint, comforting me in my hour of need."

"I believe you spent half the voyage gnawing on my neck, sir."

"Just little sips! It calms the mind, you know," said Fitz. "And how have you been, Lex? Apart from the…" He gestured towards Alexander's bandaged hand.

"Fine, apart from the unwelcome visit of my sire. But we shouldn't speak of such unhappy things now that you've arrived. This wound will heal quickly once I drink, but I was making sure to save Oliver for the both of us to share."

Fitz's arms wound around Alexander's waist. "That's very thoughtful of you. We'd better get home quickly, then."

…So they were going to drink from him shortly after arriving at the manor. Oliver tried not to feel a bit of a thrill from it. He was less scared of Fitz feeding from him after his experience on the docks.

Soon enough, they arrived back home. Fitz spread out his arms and took a deep breath. "Ahhhh, how I missed that musty old library smell."

Alexander was taking his shoes off, and as soon as he had, Fitz had him pressed up against the wall. "We're not on the docks any more, and my patience has run out." He caught Alexander with a fierce, shameless, deep kiss, one which seemed to last forever. Alexander groped at his back, pulling him closer.

Oliver stared down at the floor, mortified, not sure what he should be doing, until Roger loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Roger," said Fitz, entirely too casually as he came up for air. "Why don't you and Oliver entertain each other for a bit?"

"Yes, that's a good idea." Alexander seemed strained, as if pulling himself away from Fitz required all of his effort. "You can have your pick of guest rooms on the second floor - Oliver can show you to them. And if you want any refreshments, the kitchen is all yours. We just have some… matters to attend to."

"'Matters to attend to.'" Fitz laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"No, generally I don't." He swept up Fitz easily into his arms and dashed up the stairs to the third floor, Fitz laughing all the way.

Oliver watched after them with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. He'd half expected the hungry vampires to enthrall and feed from him the second they reached home, and couldn't help a bit of disappointment that they hadn't. Perhaps that would come later. No doubt Fitz would be occupying his master's bed instead of him.

"Don't you think they're a bit ridiculous?" said Roger.

"Oh… I suppose they are, yes," said Oliver. It almost seemed a bit forbidden to admit that his master could be ridiculous, even though it had crossed his mind before. If he was going to have to accompany Roger while Alexander and Fitz entertained each other, he was glad that he seemed to be a very lucid thrall, unafraid of his master. That was a good sign, too, for what sort of vampire Fitz was. "Is there anything I can get for you? I could show you to a room, or if you wanted some food or drink…"

"I'd very much appreciate food and drink, if it's not too much trouble. The ship had ample food, but the serving times weren't ideal for a nocturnal schedule."

"Of course it isn't trouble," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. "How about a sandwich, then? The bread is yesterday's, but we have some fine ham and salami and other trimmings."

"That'll do. Thank you."

Oliver led Roger into the kitchen, casting one last glance up the stairs, wondering what his master and his master's friend were doing now.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thank you for reading sixty parts of The Rare Bookseller! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while.

Next week, the aftermath of Fitz's kidnapping in 1905.

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[cheynovak]

The plan - part 2

Russell Shaw x F/Reader Y/N            

Warnings: Age difference not too explicit, angst, fights, gunshots, hurt, slight romantic/sexual tension.

 

*Does not follow Tracker’s storyline * 

-- --      

Russell is ready to start his ‘retirement plan’ like he used to call it. He saw an old brewery on one of his jobs and went back to speak to the owner, an old man named Frank.  

Frank also owns a bar close to the brewery, his granddaughter Y/N works there as a bartender. Russell liked her immediately, realising he had to overcome two impossible tasks. One, to try and win Frank over to buy the brewery, two win Y/N over to go on a date with him.  

-- 

Russell pulled out his phone. "I might know a guy who can help us." He said with his phone to his ear. He turned away from Frank.

"Colter?... I need your help." 

I’m on my way,” Colter replied without hesitation.

True to his word, Colter arrived quickly, his presence easing some of that stress Russell felt. He approached Frank and Russell, his eyes sharp and focused. “Tell me everything,” he said, wasting no time.

Russell and Frank recounted the events, and Colter listened intently, his mind working through the details. “Could she have gone to her parents' house, or a boyfriend?” Colter asked.

Russell looked back and forward between Colter and Frank. Boyfriend, maybe she does have a boyfriend? He thought. Frank shook his head, a sorrowful look in his eyes. “Her parents died in a carcrash when she was little. I’ve taken care of her ever since. No boy in her life, as far as I know.”

Colter nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Did she have any enemies, anyone who might want to hurt her?” Frank hesitated, then sighed deeply. “No, but I had debts. I borrowed money to keep the brewery running. Some of those people... they aren’t the type you want to cross.”

Colter’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you borrow from?”Frank swallowed hard. “A man named Vincent Carter. He’s known for getting what he’s owed, no matter the cost.”

Russell felt a surge of anger and fear. “Do you think he took her?” He asked his brother.

“It’s possible,” Colter said. “We need to find out more about this Vincent Carter.” Russell nodded, determination hardening his features. “Let’s go.”

They drove through the town, following the leads Frank had given them until they found themselves at a seedy-looking bar on the outskirts. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, filled with rough-looking men who eyed the brothers suspiciously.

Russell approached the bar, addressing the bartender. “We’re looking for Vincent Carter.”

The bartender’s eyes flickered with recognition, but he said nothing. Colter leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.

“We’re not here to cause trouble. We just want to talk.” The bartender's silence was infuriating, and as Colter and Russell left the bar, they were no closer to finding Y/N.

Frustration gnawed at Russell, but just as they stepped into the dim light outside, a man emerged from the shadows.

“Wait,” the man called out, glancing nervously around. “I heard you asking about Vincent Carter. I might know where he is.” Russell’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you helping us?”

The man shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan of Carter, he took my niece a few weeks ago, rumours have it he takes young women and sells them, to pay of your debt... I'm working here for my debt hoping he let's her go. He’s got a warehouse on the edge of town. He might be there.”

Colter stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. “What’s the address?” The man quickly scribbled it down and handed it over. “Be careful. He’s dangerous.”

Russell and Colter wasted no time. They geared up, donning their tactical vests and holstering their weapons, ready for whatever awaited them.

The drive to the warehouse was tense, both men silently focused. "So, what's the deal with this Y/N?" Colter asked his older brother. "What do you mean?" He answered looking out the window.

"I mean... You really seemed shocked when I asked about a boyfriend." Russell didn't answer immediatly. "I met her a few weeks back, she is nice."

"And her grandfather owns a brewery." Colter added. "That too." He said. Colter's face changed with a knowing smile. But didn't push any further.

As they approached the location, they parked a distance away and made their way on foot, moving with practiced stealth. The warehouse loomed before them, its darkened windows giving nothing away.

They carefully made their way inside, scanning the large, dimly lit space. Russell’s heart leaped into his throat, but as they drew closer, he realized neither of them was Y/N.

Colter signaled for him to cover, and together they approached the women. Russell knelt down, gently untying their restraints. “Are you okay? Where’s Y/N?” he asked urgently.

One of the women, her eyes wide with fear, shook her head. “We don’t know. They took her somewhere else. We heard them say something about moving her to another location.”

Russell’s frustration grew, but he kept his voice calm. “Do you know where?” The second woman, her voice trembling, said, “We heard them mention an old factory. It’s not far from here.”

Colter and Russell exchanged a look. It was another lead, and it was better than nothing. They escorted the women outside, ensuring they were safe before heading back to their car.

Colter already called for the cops, leading the two women out of the building towards the main road before continuing their search.

As they drove to the factory, Russell’s thoughts raced. Y/N was still out there, and they were running out of time. The factory came into view, an imposing structure that had long since fallen into disuse.

They approached cautiously, their movements silent and deliberate. The factory was eerily quiet, but they pressed on, sweeping each room methodically.

It wasn’t long before they found another room with Y/N in it, tied to a chair and looking bruised but defiant. Relief washed over Russell, but there was no time to waste. Her eyes filled with joy.

As Russell rushed to untie Y/N, the door behind them burst open. Vincent Carter strode in, flanked by armed men, guns blazing. Bullets ricocheted off the walls as Colter and Russell took cover, returning fire with precision.

“Russell!” Y/N called out over the din. He glanced back at her, his eyes fierce with determination. He reached into his vest and pulled out a spare gun, handing it to her.

“Do you know how to handle one of these?” he asked urgently. Y/N’s faint smile was almost nostalgic. “You think my granddad didn’t teach me how to use one?” She said while turning the safety off.

She took the gun confidently, her eyes flashing with a resolve that mirrored Russell’s. As she found cover, she quickly assessed the situation, her grip steady.

Russell and Colter continued their tactical advance, methodically taking down Vincent’s men. Y/N fired with precision, her training evident in each controlled shot, hitting the one guy who stood behind Colter.

"Despite her injuries, she moved with determination, not shooting a lot but those bullets she fired where bullseye.

Vincent, realizing he was losing, grew desperate. He fired wildly, his rage and frustration evident in his erratic movements. Colter seized the opportunity, moving in close and disarming Vincent with a swift, calculated move.

Vincent hit the ground hard, and Colter secured him, ensuring he was no longer a threat. As the dust settled, Russell rushed back to Y/N, his eyes scanning her for any new injuries.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

She nodded, wincing slightly but smiling. “I’m okay, thanks to you.” Russell pulled her into a tight embrace, relief flooding through him. Colter approached, his expression a mix of satisfaction and respect. “You did good, Y/N. Let’s get out of here.”

As they escorted Vincent out, the police arrived, taking him and the remaining men into custody. Y/N, Russell, and Colter emerged from the factory into the first light of dawn, the ordeal finally over.

Back at the brewery, Frank was waiting, his worry evident in the lines of his face. When he saw Y/N, his eyes welled with tears of relief. “Y/N,” he yelled, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Thank God you’re safe.”

She hugged him tightly, her voice filled with gratitude. "Thanks to Russell and Colter.”

Frank turned to Russell, his expression earnest. “Thank you, son. I don’t know how we can ever repay you.”

Russell shook his head. “You don’t have to. But if you insist..." Frank interfered, "The brewery is not for sale." - "a beer is always welcome." They said at the same time.

Y/N leaned into Russell, her hand intertwined with his holding him back while Colter and Frank walked in the pub. “Thank you for everything,” she said softly. “How can I repay you?”

Russell smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that way she had come to love. “Well, I already have a beer, I'm pretty sure tonight will be on the house.” he said playfully.

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to his ears. “That’s my grandfather’s payment,” she teased.

Russell’s smile turned mischievous. “Well, then…” he began, but before he could finish, Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection and gratitude. She pressed her lips to his in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

For a moment, Russell was too surprised to react, his breath catching in his throat. When they parted, he was speechless, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N’s eyes met his, her cheeks flushed and her smile radiant. “Does that cover it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Russell found his voice, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I don't know, maybe one more? ” he said, leaning in to kiss her again. But Y/N placed her fingers gently over his mouth, stopping him.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she flirted, her eyes twinkling mischievously when she kissed her finger that where still on his lips. With a playful smirk she walked back inside, leaving Russell standing there, his heart pounding.

He watched her go, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the cool evening air. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Y/N was something else, a blend of strength, kindness, and a teasing spirit that kept him on his toes.

As he stood there, staring after her, he realized that the brewery, the town, and this unexpected connection with Y/N had given him something he hadn’t realized he needed: a sense of belonging, and maybe even a chance at real happiness.

He knew she wouldn't be an easy catch, but hell she might be the first one worthy to fight for.

--

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