#which meant like he knew! he knew the sick shit John was doing to find him

[sharpbluejay]

Azazel should have kept John’s soul with him after he killed him and made him watch as he worked to open the gate of hell, should have shown John all his special children but been like “Sam’s always been my favorite, you know we've been watching him,” Azazel smiling as he tells him that Sam’s dead, that dean sold his soul, that this is all going according to the plan and John, losing his mind at this point because dean cannot make the same mistakes as him, never gets to tell his boys that's he knows! because they free his soul and kill Azazel

#azazel could have been like its to make sure John doesn't break in hell since we need dean to that #spn #john winchester #azazel spn #yellow eyed demon #i just think about the fact that we later find out that Azazel always had people watching Sam #which meant like he knew! he knew the sick shit John was doing to find him #over 20 years of johns life dedicated to killing him and the demon let's him know this was always going to happen #it was always gonna be your boys #sam winchester #also being one of his favorite children love that for him

[roosterr]

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door. 

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive. 

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here… 

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying. 

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues,  "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep, 

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you. 

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you." 

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

#john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #price fic #mw2 x reader #price x reader #141 x reader #first fic ive ever posted im scared #dont break my heart pls <3 #roosterr writes

[pinksiames]

Thought dump… Gale and Bucky ABO au

But it’s omega!Gale who’s trying everything he can to conceal the fact that he’s an omega. Dating Marge who’s a beautiful omega herself as a front, taking supplements to hide his scent and to boost a false one of an alpha. He and Marge play pretend out in public, Gale being the strong alpha that keeps his sweet omega protected and cared for. But once they’re behind closed doors they’re more like really good roommates, tending to each other’s needs when needed, being a source of comfort during their heats. That’s how it’s been since he presented. Since his father struck him with the back of his palm, swearing he’d never have a whore for a son, a breeding bitch that begs for an alpha knot.

He kept up the facade by enlisting to join the military, proving to his father that he was still strong despite his biological makeup, lying on the form of said genetic fuck up. The front show played well even when he met the strong, assertive but still kind alpha that was John Egan. Hell it was still going when everything in his fiber was screaming at him that Bucky was his alpha, that this was the man to keep him happy and sedated through life. Even after the man gave him his own goddamn name.

But he couldn’t.

Omegas were completely banned from the military, they were meant to stay home and tend to the children running amok, to wail and cry for their husband’s return. Technically that was what Marge was doing, worrying herself sick about her best friend, a man she considered her platonic soulmate. It would be a death sentence if anyone from the 100th figured out what he was. The shame and embarrassment that would come of it. So he kept it to himself, the only person who knew was a close Beta friend Marge had, she knew the whole situation and was sympathetic, supplying him with the medication he needed to keep up his front. It was good, it was great even. He had his best friend Bucky with him, a man who was completely aloof to the situation that was Gale. He had Marge back home, waiting for him, taking care of their little apartment that they called home.

Until he was shot down.

Of all the things that scared buck in that moment wasn’t the fear of death, or the fact that they’d torture him. It was the thought of them finding out what he was.

He had heard horror stories of what the Germans did to the omega men and women in their camps, keeping them separated from the rest to fuck and pleasure themselves like sex slaves. Kept them awake all hours of the night, being ran through like breeding stock. Most of them died within the month of being flagged. They were third class citizens to them.

He was smart enough to keep supplements on him when he went on missions, mostly because of those stories he heard. He had enough to last him through the autumn, but once winter hit he was screwed.

He was both relieved and anxious when Bucky arrived, his Bucky. Relieved that his best friend wasn’t dead, that he wasn’t among the piles of bodies that lay waste in the countries forests. Though it looked like he wasn’t far from meeting that grim fate. But he couldn’t help the anxiety and fear rise up in his throat knowing one of these days he’d have to tell him, once his pills ran out and his temperature spiked.

It was December when it finally caught back up to him, specifically 3 days before Christmas. He had been feeling like shit for the past week, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Most of the men here were sick as a dog or just about to be. The cold just about took everyone out, heteronormative be thrown out the window when they started sharing bunks, trying to maintain what little heat their bodies still possessed.

Gale had retired earlier that day, curling up in his makeshift bed, his muscles sore and aching, feet shuffling like his body weighed double his size. For the first time since arriving he felt the urge to peel away his layers, his skin hot like hells surface.

Bucky himself had been feeling under the weather, the chill winds weren’t of much help. But he had been keeping his eye on buck and Gale knew it. He knew when he would meet eyes with the large man, how his eyes shined with concern, seemingly growing more and more frustrated with each of gales wave off’s.

“I’m fine Bucky, there’s worse men who need to be tended to more than me. It’s just a cold.” He’d say because that’s what Gale did. Brush off his own suffering and misery while making sure the boys under his command were taken care of. He knew it wasn’t the answer Bucky wanted but it was the one he was given over and over and over again. Gale was getting worse and it showed. But he had to keep face, couldn’t slip up, or else he’d get a far worse punishment than death.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Bucky didn’t know that. It made it more confusing to him when he’d be huddled up next to Gale, chest plastered to the smaller man’s back, and a sweet, lavender smell would wave In front of his nose. It was faint, like a whisper of a kiss. But it was there, and it was coming from his buck. He kept getting little hints of it at night, lavender with traces of coffee beans, and just a dash of pine. It was an odd mix but somehow it screamed buck, made his grip on the man in front of him just a tad bit tighter.

It scared him when buck started to pull away, keeping his distance by keeping himself busy, staying cooped up in the library away from everyone else. He could hardly catch a glimpse at him most of the time, and when he did those baby blues were dull, almost lifeless. It made his heart hurt, knowing Gale was so obviously struggling with something but couldn’t show it in front of everyone. He was resentful at first, how Gale took charge and kept everyone together, while John just wandered around, making up baseball games in his head. Why was Gale able to be so calm? How come he wasn’t as affected as he was? And then he caught that glance, that empty stare. It was almost like he had accepted his fate here, that he was put here to die. He wanted to tell him that they were going to make it, that he had Marge waiting at home for him. But Gale avoided him like the plague.

When Bucky finally retired to bed he returned to his own bed, leaving buck cold and alone. He knew he couldn’t be mad at the man but it still festered in his chest. If Gale wanted to be left alone so badly so be it. At least that’s what he thought before soft sniffles and whines came from below. Guilt quickly replaced anger as he peeked over into crack between the beds and the wall. Gale was curled into himself, shivering and tears pouring down his face. He was about to give in and climb down and comfort the man under a faint, strangled moan pierced his ears. Taking a closer look he could see the sweat covering pink cheeks, drops running down his neck into exposed collarbones. He followed the trail, his eyes widening seeing hand movements under the thin blanket.

Gale was masturbating. Right here where everyone could hear him. But no one moved from their cozy spots, snores still echoing through the space. He quietly turned away from the scene, his cock rock hard in his pants. He didn’t know someone could look so-

“Bucky..” he froze. His train of thought crashing. Gale was crying out for him.

Taking another peak gale was now biting his pillow, eyes squeezed shut and back arched. There was no way.

“John..” This time it sounded more desperate, his eyes opening and a flood of tears poured down his face. Pretty baby blues shining in the moonlight. John wanted to devour him. Without another word he climbed down from his bed, heavy feet landing on the floor. Looking back over Gale wasn’t moving at all, no noise, no uneven breathing. Completely silent.

Grabbing gales blanket he shuffled his way under the cover, the heat hitting him in the face with how warm he was, and then the smell. That sweet lavender smell smacking him. Buck was an omega, and he was in the middle of his heat.

Gale looked over his shoulder at John, his face looking like a kicked puppy dog. He was shaking. In fear or of the cold he couldn’t tell. But his eyes were speaking to him.

Please don’t hate me.

John gave him a soft smile, large hand coming to rest on swollen cheeks before lowering his mouth down to gales ear.

“Let me take care of you darling.”

I was not expecting this to be this long 😭 but um enjoy ABO clegan even if it is a little wip

#not enough omega gale #it’s like Feyd rautha again #wip #gale cleven #john egan #mota #my fics #a/b/o verse #omegaverse #alpha John #omega gale

[foreverindreamlandd]

Awake My Soul • 13

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 5.1k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Reader forcing herself to eat and feeling sick from it, someone's drink being drugged, mentions of panic attack. Angst? Yeah, a lot of fucking angst :,)

Series Masterlist

**There is a playlist for this fic, but linking it here messes up the tags so feel free to check it out in the series masterlist!

“I still can’t believe you let me sleep for eight hours and didn’t let yourself get any,” Bucky grumbled, giving a light, affectionate shove to your shoulder. “You must be exhausted, Sweetheart.”

You shook your head. “On the contrary, I feel more alert than ever.” You kept your tone light and joking. Technically it was true, there was no way you would have been able to rest last night. Your mind was racing in a million different directions, figuring out a way to get out of your predicament, out of the threat given to you by Brock.

“Three days, sweetie.”

Trying to find a way out, knowing that there wasn’t one.

As soon as Bucky awoke the morning after Brock, John, and Ward ambushed you in the woods, you immediately felt the urge to spill your guts and tell him everything that happened. To cry into his arms for hours as he told you that everything was going to be okay, that they would fix it.

He would do everything he could to make sure you were safe, and that was the last thing that you wanted to have happen, because you knew that Bucky would put your life before his.

That couldn’t happen, and if you were selfish enough to do that, to let him sacrifice his life for yours in a fight that you had started, then you were more of a monster than all of the members of Hydra put together.

So when Bucky’s eyes slowly blinked open, blue eyes filled with joy and admiration immediately upon looking into yours, you held your tongue and smiled.

“Morning Beefcake. Sleep well?”

You could tell he knew something was up, though. He noticed the way your hands kept fidgeting, how you would flinch when a tree branch snapped somewhere in the woods. You’d look over and see him looking at you with concern, wordlessly asking if you were okay.

Instead of bursting into tears like you wanted to, you would simply give him a half-assed smile, and he would give you a half-assed smile in return, the worry not leaving his brow.

You hoped he would just blame it on the recent visit to Hydra, that you were just on edge from such a close encounter. 

Which was one again true, there was just a lot more to it than that. 

As soon as you had returned the horses to their home in the clearing, Bucky practically glued himself to your side, whether it was an arm around your shoulder or his hand in yours. Anything he could do to try to comfort whatever was plaguing you.

You savored every moment of it, every second you had, every kiss shared, as a timer continued winding down in your mind.

Though, sometimes you preferred the moments where Bucky wasn’t at your side, when he and Steve were walking together, laughing and sharing stories about all the shit they used to get up to. You’d fall back in step, heart swelling whenever Bucky barked out a laugh, grinning from ear to ear as he looked over at his best friend.

Steve will get him through this, you thought. Steve is smart. He’ll be able to force Bucky to let me go and move on. You prayed that would be true. That Bucky would someday be able to let this go. You wished that he would just forget about you. That his feelings for you weren’t as strong as you had thought they had been and he could live a happy life without you in it.

It broke your heart to think that what you two shared could be so easily erased, but if it meant Bucky would be safe, then you could live with it. You could carry the love for the both of you for the rest of your life. However long it may be.

“Damn, Bruce really outdid himself with this one,” Steve murmured as the tree door opened up, revealing the hidden ladder for you all to climb.

“You know how it is, Stevie. Desperate times and all.” Bucky extended his arm out to escort you inside, his fingers grazing along the exposed skin at your waist as you climbed, causing you to almost lose your grip on the wooden rung. In a more somber voice he added, “I think it was something he wanted to completely dive into after…everything. A project he and Parker could devote all their energy to while also making sure what went down would never happen again.”

You were glad your face was now out of their view as you closed your eyes, fresh tears welling at the fact that if you didn’t leave tonight, it would happen again.

By the time you raced across the wooden bridge and climbed down the other tree, you had managed to compose yourself, tears blinked away and a smile forced on your face.

“Did you have a nice trip?” a voice asked from behind you and you grimaced at the familiarity of it.

Turning around, you were met with the stern gazes of Sam, Yelena, and Clint, each of them with their arms crossed in front. Yelena’s right brow was raised in a you are so deeply fucked expression.

You cleared your throat. “I can explain.”

“She doesn’t need to explain anything,” Bucky argued, walking out of the tree and putting himself a few inches in front of you in protection from Sam’s wrath. “I’m the one who pushed her to go.”

“And I personally,” Steve started as he came into view, “am very glad they did.”

Everyone’s faces lit up, eyes widening, shock shifting into smiles as they ran over to embrace their long lost family member.

All attention went to Steve after that, and you were more than grateful for it. Grateful for all of the tearful, distracting reunions that continued as he walked into the new camp.

“Not a bad upgrade from the old place,” he murmured as he took in his surroundings.

“And way less haunted,” Cass added, pulling Steve’s hand along to follow him for an official tour, AJ pushing his butt to get him to go faster.

Sam chuckled as his nephews took control, then looked over at you and Bucky. 

“You went against orders,” he said point blank.

You looked to the ground as Bucky responded. “We’d do it again if we had to.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, but he nodded in agreement. “Hopefully you won’t have to.”

The two men shared a long glance before Sam extended a hand out, which Bucky took, pulling Shield’s leader into a hug, patting each other on the back with their other hand. When they pulled away, Sam moved to wrap his arms around you, nearly crushing your spine.

You squeezed back just as tightly.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Again,” he added with a deep chuckle.

You nodded into his chest.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky mumbled, pulling you to his side and wrapping his arm around your waist. “No more trying to crush my girl, Sam. We’ve had a long journey and even though she keeps fighting me on it, I gotta get her to her room for some much-needed rest.”

It was a tempting offer, to isolate yourself in your dorm where you could finally drop the act and let your grief consume you.

It also meant less time with your family, time that was now unbearably limited.

You shook your head. “No way, Beefcake. If my calculations are correct, Dum Dum has a nice vat of slop ready for eating. Let’s get some grub and hang with the gang for a little bit. Then we can rest.”

His eyes met yours, gaze inquisitive. The same look he had been giving you since yesterday. “You sure?”

You gave him a small, unconvincing smile. “Very.”

Yelena and Kate were already sitting at your usual spot, inhaling their own dinners. Steve was in a corner with the kids and Sarah, chuckling at whatever crazy story AJ and Morgan were telling him.

“Go sit, I’ll grab our plates,” Bucky murmured into your ear, kissing your temple before heading to Dum Dum’s station.

“You look like shit, babe,” Yelena exclaimed with a mouth full of food as you sat beside Kate.

Kate gaped at her girlfriend in horror before wrapping an arm around you for a side hug. “You look fine. Like someone who went through hell and back and managed to survive.”

Your brows furrowed and you laughed. “I can’t tell how that’s less of a dig than Lena’s comment.”

Kate blushed, biting her bottom lip. “Well, you have looked better…”

“Less hollow and shit.” Yelena’s face turned serious. “For real though, you okay? There’s something….off about you.”

You swallowed, twisting your fingers underneath the table. “What, after breaking into my old prison? Running into the guy who continuously ripped my body open and the mad scientist who changed my whole genetic makeup? Traveling nonstop for two weeks with little to no rest?” Planning on running away tonight so I can return to captivity to keep you all safe? You dug your thumbnail into your palm, focusing on the sting. “Yep, totally fine.”

They both stared at you, eyes piercing yours as if trying to reach into your soul and unpack everything behind your apathetic demeanor. Their gazes made your skin itch, your head pound, your stomach twist.

After tonight, you were never going to see these two again. Your best friends. Your sisters. 

And you weren’t going to even be able to say goodbye.

Breathing became noticeably difficult, your chest rising and falling, eyes growing wide.

Kate put a hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, are you-”

Bucky appeared on your other side, the sound of two plates clattering onto the table making you jump. You quickly saved face and gave him a small smile, forcing yourself to get your shit together and failing.

You stared at your plate, and Bucky stared at you, most likely watching your face turn green in real time.

“I thought you were starving?” he asked, moving a hand to rub your back.

Actually, it feels like there is a pool of acid in my stomach, you thought. What you actually said was, “I don’t know, maybe I’m more tired than I thought.” You pushed the chair back, preparing to leave.

Bucky’s arm moved from your back to your arm. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said, clearly concerned now. “Just wait a second, I’ll come with you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. Besides, we don’t want this food going to waste, right Buck?”

He stared at you, waiting for even the tiniest bit more information to what was going on. Finally, he sighed. “Just…please take a few bites at least. We haven’t eaten since this morning.”

With a nod, you grabbed your spoon and shoved down three massive bites, focusing on the mechanics rather than texture and taste so you could keep it down. Your eyes scanned across the table briefly, meeting three pairs of concerned eyes. “You good to finish the rest, Beefcake?”

Bucky opened his mouth, paused, then closed it, lips pressed into a thin line as he bobbed his head up and down.

“If he can’t, I will,” Yelena offered.

He slid the plate across to her and she got to work, and you internally thanked her for either growing tired of the situation and wanting to move on or giving you a scapegoat from the overbearing amount of attention.

“I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?” You stood up, giving a quick peck to Bucky’s cheek before turning and practically sprinting out of the cafeteria, not even waiting for a response from him.

There was no way you were going to be able to sleep at all, but you had to be sure to get to your room before Bucky did inevitably check on you.

But first, you needed to prepare.

“I have a surprise for you.”

You looked up to find Bucky standing in the doorway of your room, hands in his pockets as he shifted back and forth on his feet. He seemed…nervous. 

“A surprise? For me?” You cocked your head to the side and smiled, forcing as much energy into your attitude even though all you wanted to do was have him crawl into your bed and hold you forever. Or at least for the couple of hours you had left.

He nodded, taking slow steps until he was in front of you.

“It’s nothing crazy, and I know you’re feeling off, but I’ve kind of been planning this for a while and then shit went down and we left and I don’t know if it will help you feel better but-” Bucky paused, realizing that he was rambling. He took a deep breath, then held out a hand towards you.

“Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?”

Your heart swelled against your will and a swarm of butterflies invaded your stomach. “A…a date?”

“Yeah, I mean, unless you think it’s lame.” He scowled. “You know what? Forget about it-”

You grabbed his hand and stood up a smile creeping up your face. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Beefcake.”

The smile that bloomed on his face caused you to momentarily forget that you were never going to see him again.

He leaned down for a slow, tender kiss, that perfect smile still on his lips.

The two of you walked in silence as he guided you to the left building, walking down the hallway past the lab and library until you reached a door you hadn’t noticed before.

“Close your eyes,” Bucky whispered.

With a skeptical look - smile not leaving your face - you complied.

You heard the door open, then felt Bucky move behind you, hands gently wrapping around your shoulders to lead you inside.

“Are they still closed?”

“They are,” you giggled. They were.

A few steps into the mystery room, you felt a kiss on your right ear, Bucky’s lips grazing against it as he spoke again.

“Okay. Open them.”

You did, and you gasped.

Hundreds of amber twinkle lights hung across what appeared to be some sort of classroom, desks and chairs pushed along one of the walls to clear the space, a large white board on the other wall directly in front of you. 

In the middle of the room was an old, brown leather couch, a wool blanket laid out on the back of it.

In front of the couch was a coffee table, a bottle of wine placed in the middle with two glasses and two small, red apples.

Behind the couch was a table, where a protector rested on a stack of old textbooks as if to put it at the right height for whatever this was.

“What….what is this?” you asked, turning to face a very excited-looking Bucky.

He grinned. “It’s our date. I’m taking you to a movie.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you blinked up at him.

“You did all this?”

“Mostly. I may have asked Laura and Kate to help with decor. Banner helped with tech. All have sworn to secrecy not to let anyone know what a softy I really am when it comes to you.”

You turned back around, taking in the room again, imagining Bucky putting this all together, cleaning the room, hanging up lights, asking for help.

He walked in front of you, eyes processing your reaction. “Do you like it?” he asked, sounding so boyish and hopeful, as if his life depended on your answer.

What a stupid question.

You smiled. “That depends on what the movie is.”

Bucky exhaled the breath he had been holding with a surprised laugh, his whole demeanor relaxing.

“I think you know what movie it is, Sweetheart.”

Your mouth fell open. “No. Way.”

He held up the DVD case, showing the angsty expressions of Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart.

You squealed, jumping up and wrapping your arms around his neck. He let out a small oof at the impact, still laughing as he circled his arms around your waist, holding you up against him.

“Best date ever.”

Bucky let out a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like it,” he murmured.

“I love it.”

I love you.

You were so close to saying it. So close, you had to take a sharp inhale of breath to prevent yourself from actually speaking the words, your throat burning from their forced absence. 

It hurt how badly you wanted to say it in this moment. To tell Bucky that you loved him with your whole heart and soul, that it felt like every fiber of your being had been undone and stitched back together by your love for him.

But you couldn’t say that.

If you did, and he said it back, leaving might actually kill you.

If you said it, and he felt even a fraction for you what you felt for him, it would be his downfall. He wouldn’t be able to let you go, wouldn’t stop searching for you, wouldn’t stop fighting until he finally died trying.

If you didn’t tell him you loved him, he would have a chance.

You owed him that, owed yourself that. For Bucky to be able to live a long, happy life, even if it was without you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky wiped a tear away with his thumb. When had you officially started crying?

You blinked a few times, trying to smile with trembling lips. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He stared at you, clearly not buying that bullshit answer. After a few seconds his head fell. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered.

“What? Oh my god Bucky no, I truly love this. It’s amazing and I can’t believe you went out of your way-”

“No,” he looked back up, shaking his head, “I fucked up by allowing you to come with me to Hydra’s camp. I should have known it was going to be hard for you. I just didn’t realize how bad it would be. It was fucking selfish. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

“Bucky-” his name caught in your throat. “Stop, I’m okay I promise-”

“You’re not okay! You haven’t been for days! At first when we escaped everything seemed fine, but then it shifted. It’s like you won’t allow yourself to fully be here, like you’re still trapped in that prison.”

If he hadn’t been holding you, you were almost certain you would have been on the floor.

You clung to him. “I’m not though, am I? I’m here, with you, and we’re safe.” You forced out a relieved laugh. “I’m sorry I’m off. Maybe it’s all affected me more than I realized. I’ll be okay though, Buck. I promise.”

His jaw clenched. “But you don’t have to be okay if you aren’t, baby. That’s what I’m trying to say. You have this wall up, and sometimes it feels like it’s to keep me at bay. If you don’t want me here-” he closed his eyes.

Oh Bucky.

You caged his face between your hands, pulling him closer until your lips met for a soft, slow kiss.

When you pulled away, his eyes slowly blinked open, blue irises blazing.

“I will always want you here,” you said with as much surety as you could. “Always. You are the most important person to me….aside from AJ and Cass.” He breathed out a laugh, and you caught tears forming in his eyes. “I’ve had to learn to do things on my own for so long, and I think my coping mechanisms just have to adjust. I never thought I’d have such a supportive, caring Beefcake to lean on during the hard times, you know? Just give me time.” You swallowed. “Everything will work itself out. All I need is a few hundred more hugs and kisses from you and I’ll be right as rain.”

His smile returned and he nodded, leaning forward for another kiss.

If only you could stay around for a million more.

“Are you sure you’re up for this, though? We can always wait until you’re feeling more yourself.”

No, Bucky, we can’t.

“Absolutely not. I have been dying to see my beloved Edward on screen once more. You cannot rob me of this, Buck.” 

He rolled his eyes, picking you up bridal style as he walked you to the couch, dropping you on the soft surface as you giggled.

He lifted the bottle of wine, twisting it open.

You reached for the blanket behind you. “Hey Beefcake?” He looked up just as he was about to start pouring into one of the glasses. “Would you mind actually getting another blanket? I’m feeling a little chilly.”

He nodded, resting the bottle back on the table. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed your forehead quickly before leaving the room.

You sat up as soon as he was gone, reaching inside your back pocket for the small plastic bag.

You grabbed Bucky’s glass and poured the powder from 6 crushed melatonin tablets inside, then filled it nearly to the brim with wine, swirling it around to get rid as much of the residue as you could.

A few minutes later he returned, blanket in hand. He draped it over your body, then turned the projector on.

Once he was settled by your side on the couch, you handed him his glass.

“To what has to be the most romantic night of my life,” you said, holding your glass up.

Bucky smiled, leaning forward to kiss your jaw.

“To this being just the beginning of as many romantic nights as I can give to the girl of my dreams,” he said, clinking his glass to yours.

You smiled as your heart shattered to pieces, knowing that this was actually the end.

He was out within 30 minutes, completely limp by your side.

Your fingertips grazed along his face, from his forehead down to the stubble along his jaw. When he started dozing off, you expected the tears to fall full force now that no one was able to see you fall apart. 

There were no tears now, only hollowness as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Bucky’s forehead, closing your eyes to fully allow yourself to remember this feeling. His warmth, his smell, each perfect wrinkle on his skin.

You let the movie play on as you stood up, walking toward the door, allowing yourself one last glance at his sleeping form before stepping into the hallway.

Creeping past a still awake Parker in the lab, you headed upstairs to the small room, opening the window that was close enough to the wall to jump.

You reached into your other back pocket, pulling out the note and resting it on the nearby table. If Bucky woke, he might search a few other places first before coming to look here, which would hopefully buy you a bit more time.

From behind the table, you pulled out your two blades, the blaster, and Bucky’s grappling hook that you had left behind earlier.

A few moments later, you were standing on the other side of the wall, pulling at the rope until the hook fell into your hands.

A few moments after that, you were ducking underneath the invisible perimeter that would alarm Clint at the watchtower.

Your limbs grew heavy as you walked across the Bog, the weight of leaving this life behind totally consuming you.

It became even worse when you were on the other side, staring up at the bridge. The only way anyone could cross the deadly, acidic water.

One final step before you left for good.

You still had people to protect, people you loved that were alive. That knowledge - that no matter what happened, as long as they were alive there were still people in this world that cared about you - was enough to give you the strength to do what was needed.

To keep them alive, to keep Bucky alive, you would continue forward.

You raised the blaster, pointing it to the bridge, your chest rising as you took one long inhale.

On the exhale, you pulled the trigger, and the bridge crumbled to pieces, falling into the bubbling liquid below.

Bucky woke to the feeling of drool running down his chin and a crick in his neck.

He also felt like something horrible had happened, a strange, buzzing alarm going off in his mind.

It took him a second to realize where he was, the main menu screen for Twilight playing in front of him.

When he looked to his side, all he saw was an empty space.

Turning his attention to the window, he could tell that the sky was now a dark purple, the sun beginning to rise. It had to be around five in the morning.

Relax, Barnes, he thought to himself. She probably decided to do watch herself while you slept like the annoyingly kind and considerate person she is.

How had he slept so long without noticing her leave, though?

He stood up, heading out the building and toward the tower. 

When he climbed up the ladder, he found Yelena sitting in the corner, picking at her nails.

She looked up and gave him a sly grin. “Well, well, well, did you two have a good night?” she cooed.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, panic starting to rise.

Her brows furrowed. “I thought you two were having some one-on-one time. Y/n/n asked me to cover your shift.”

He nearly let go of the ladder. “Something’s wrong.”

Yelena stood up, concern now painted across her face. “What do you mean?”

Bucky didn’t waste time answering, practically jumping down to the ground and sprinting to the dorms.

He saw Sam approach. “Man, you okay?” he asked.

“Where’s Y/n?” Bucky demanded, not stopping.

“What do you mean?” Sam called out, but Bucky couldn’t hear him anymore. The only sound he could process was the blood pounding in his ears.

He stormed up to your room.

No sign of you, but he noticed your pack resting in its usual spot in the corner.

He went to his room next.

Still nothing.

“Fuck,” he cried out softly, running back outside. Sam, Yelena, and Steve were standing together.

“Buck, what’s wrong?” Steve asked. When Bucky tried to run past him, Steve grabbed him by the arms. “Hey, HEY, look at me!” Bucky was gasping for air, and he was pretty sure he was on the verge of a panic attack. His mind was racing. He couldn’t focus on anything, only on the fact that he couldn’t find you. “Breathe, Bucky. Breathe,” Steve commanded.

Bucky took a deep breath. His exhale came out a bit strangled.

“I can’t find her,” he said, voice cracking.

Steve nodded, showing no trace of concern, only determination. “When and where did you last see her?”

“In the science building. We watched a movie. I fell asleep…it got a bit hazy.” His face scrunched as he tried to piece the night together. “Last thing I remember is getting an…an extra blanket and we had wine and-”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

“No,” he breathed, pulling out of Steve’s hold and running back to the classroom.

The two glasses were still on the table. He picked up his, inspecting the bottom of the glass.

There was still a tiny bit of leftover wine.

And some white, powdery residue.

“No,” he said, louder this time, throwing the glass at Edward’s face on the whiteboard. 

“Bucky? You okay?” Peter asked, emerging from the science lab. He scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t look so good.”

“Something happened. Y/n’s missing. She drugged me, I think.”

“What? Why?”

“I have no fucking idea, Parker. That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” he shouted, hands dragging over his face. 

“Woah, man, I’m sorry! Just trying to help.” Peter cracked his knuckles. “Okay…um, well, do you know where she might have gone? Is she still on the grounds? Do you think she ran away?”

“Where would she run away to? She doesn’t have another camp, no place to go other than-”

He felt his heart actually stop for a few beats, ice burning through his veins as it finally dawned on him.

“Oh my god,” he cried, bolting past Peter and out the room.

Upstairs.

To the small room with a window close to the wall.

Where a small folded up piece of paper rested on a table.

His hand hovered over it for a moment, eyes closing as tears began streaming down his face.

He didn’t need to read the note to know what it meant. Did need to know what it said to understand what you had done.

“No…” he cried softly. Finally lifting up the paper and opening it.

I’m sorry.

Thank you for giving me something to fight for.

I have to keep you all safe.

Don’t look for me. Please.

Bucky fell to his knees.

ONE WEEK LATER

Brock dismounted the horse first, dragging you to the ground along with him by your bound hands.

Your feet stumbled a bit, equilibrium completely out of place from the lack of sleep, lack of food, the constant movement on a horse pressed against this vile man’s chest.

“Look sweetie, we finally made it!” Brock said smugly, arms extending out to the Hydra prison.

You glared at him. “I thought you said we were moving.”

“Most of the facility has, but someone wanted to greet you before taking you to our new home.”

A chill went down your spine, senses on edge as you waited in dread for him to arrive.

One of the doors to the prison creaked open, and there he was.

Your eyes immediately went to the ground, fear completely taking over as you reverted back to your submissive prisoner state, feeling as if you had never even left.

“Now, now,” the familiar German accent cooed as black boots came into your vision. “That’s no way to treat your old master, is it? Not even a smile for me?”

His fingers moved under your skin, the feel of his touch causing you to almost vomit. He pulled your face up until you were looking up at him.

It had been over a year since he looked like this. Since one of Zola’s experiments went wrong and turned him into this thing. This monster.

And yet it still put as much fear into you as it did the first time you saw him. Skin completely hairless, an unnatural, blistery shade of red. 

Johann Schmidt. The director of Hydra.

Your eyes filled with tears, body trembling.

He smiled.

“Welcome back, pet.” 

Chapter 14

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #zombie au #zombie apocalypse au #awake my soul

[ghostiewriter]

JJ was fucking sick of it all. 

He was sick and tired of being poked and prodded and asked the same fifty questions on a loop as they wheeled him in and out of different medical tests, just for them all to come back and say the same thing. 

He was fine. He was a bit roughed up, and the broken ribs weren’t exactly helping his case considering it hurt to breathe deeply at that current moment. But he was fine. He could’ve been far worse, and he was grateful that (hopefully) some rest for the next four weeks would see him safe enough to get back in the car before the next race. 

He hated hospitals on a normal day, but knowing that Guiseppe was actively pushing for him to have test after test was putting the old Italian man further down his list for each day he spent locked up in the hospital room. 

He didn’t want to be here right now. 

He wanted to be in a different hospital room. He wanted to be with Kiara. He wanted the nurses and doctors to stop ignoring his questions like he was a whining child. He wanted to know if she was okay because it had been almost two days since he last saw her with his own eyes, since he jumped out of that medic bay bed despite the pain coursing through his body just so he could stop her from hitting the ground. 

It has been almost two days since the massive blow up and nobody was telling him shit, and it was starting to get to him. 

He had a few drivers visit before they left to head off with their summer break plans. John B had been the first to visit, a grim expression on his face when he saw one of his oldest friends in the hospital bed. He was surprised that the other Mercedes driver, Klaus König, showed up too. There were a few others, the ones that JJ had remained friendly and cordial with over the years. 

Neither Red Bull driver bothered showing their face—and he was thankful for that. He didn’t have much against Octavian, but if Rafe had shown his face, JJ didn’t think he would apologise for what he did. 

But Nate also didn’t show up. 

JJ tried not to feel hurt by the action. He knew that Nate was going through a lot, that he was hurting and he was confused. Hell, JJ was still quite confused himself. But a small part of him hoped that Nate would visit, that he would pop his head in because it meant he was here. It meant that he had seen Kiara. 

But John B was the one to break it to him that the older Carrera sibling was spotted back in Monaco a few hours after the race. 

His chest tightened a little at the implications. 

The only regular visitor he had was Sarah Cameron, which was a shock to him too. He was friendly with the younger Cameron, in the same way you could be with passing greetings and polite smiles. But he knew she was close to Kiara, he knew she cared about Kiara. He didn’t realise she would care enough to check up on him too. 

And despite her checkups, she refused to say much about Kiara’s condition. She said it was because there wasn’t much to update him on, but it wasn’t good enough for him. 

So, when a knock sounded on his door, he didn’t even lift his head up from his phone screen as he spoke. 

“Miss me already, Cameron?” he called out in a teasing voice, his eyes glancing over a variety of messages he received from his team over the last few days. However, when he received no snarky reply in return, he lifted his head. 

Only to find it wasn’t Sarah Cameron at his door, but Anna Carrera. 

“Mrs—” he cut himself short when she gave him a pointed look. A shy smile spread across his face as he sat up in bed. “Anna. You’re here.” 

“I am,” she said with a somewhat strained smile. “You look…well.” 

But JJ noticed it. He noticed the weariness in her expression. He noticed the bags under her eyes, the stress of the last few days and the toll it took on her. He noticed the way she was wringing her fingers together, as though she didn’t even realise what she was doing. He noticed the way she swallowed a little too harshly, and he wondered how long she had been trying to keep herself together. 

“You don’t have to pretend around me,” he said in a softer voice. “You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t worried.” 

In all honesty, JJ couldn’t imagine what Anna Carrera was going through. He knew that Nate’s accident a few years ago had hit her hard, that it scared her badly enough that her son still raced. He wondered if she was watching the race, if she saw the Ferrari go off and fear that it was her son once again.

But his words seemed to break some resolve inside Anna because the second he stopped talking, she was striding across the room towards him. JJ barely had a moment to blink before Anna’s arms were wrapped around him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head. 

“Thank god you’re okay,” Anna breathed out, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders now that he was in her arms. “I was so worried.” 

“Oh,” was all JJ was able to say in response because he didn’t quite think this would be a possibility. 

He thought his crash would’ve brought up bad memories. He thought she would’ve been concerned at the fact it could’ve been her son. He thought about every other possibility except that Anna Carrera would be worried about him.

“I tried to weasel some information out of Nate but he didn’t know how you were doing,” Anna admitted as she pulled back, holding his face like a mother would. 

JJ found himself enjoying the touch. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Anna murmured. 

His brows furrowed together. “For crashing?” 

But Anna shook her head. “JJ, honey, you almost lost your life and you’re sitting here stronger than ever. That takes a lot of strength to do so, even if you don’t want to admit it.” 

“I think more people would be upset that I cost the team and myself a win,” he mused as he tried to keep his voice casual. 

“Those people’s opinions aren’t worth your time then,” Anna stated simply. 

JJ stared at the woman in front of him. From the sincerity in her eyes to the genuine belief she had in her words, it made his throat close up and his chest tighten—and a sickly sweet voice in the back of his head telling her she was right. Those people weren’t worth his time even if he didn’t want to hear it. 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat, trying not to think of how warm his cheeks felt. “How’s Kiara? Have you been able to see her?”

A slow smile spread across Anna’s face. “The nurses told me you’ve been asking about her.” 

“Have they also told you how they’ve avoided answering my questions?” JJ asked with raised brows. 

“They said you were persistent,” she laughed as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, just by his knees. “She’s doing okay. She’s stable, but she’s not staying awake for longer than a few minutes at a time.” 

His lips turned downwards. “Will she be okay?” 

“She will, honey, don’t worry,” Anna assured him as she reached for his hand, squeezing it softly. “Her body just needs some time to rest.”

“I’m sorry—” he started but Anna shook her head. 

“Whatever happened was not your fault,” Anna said. 

“It wasn’t hers either,” JJ added quickly. “Or Nate’s. Not really. I mean, he could’ve handled it better but Rafe—”

“JJ,” she called softly, letting the boy take a breath. “I know.”

“I want to see her,” he admitted. 

“You need to rest as well,” Anna told him. “Kie won’t be happy if she knew you were risking your own health to see her.” 

“I would at least like them to update me about her then,” he huffed out, almost whining like a child. 

“I’ll keep you updated now that I’m here,” Anna said with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand once again. “Thank you for what you’ve been to Kiara these last few months. You’ve helped her grow out of her shell a little.” 

“She’s helped me too,” JJ responded, almost instinctively. 

“I’m sure she has,” Anna smiled knowingly, and it should’ve made him uneasy. But something about Anna Carrera’s presence comforted him. 

Maybe that was just the effect the Carrera women had on him.

...

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara fic #jiara fanfic #jiara fanfiction #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #my fic #f1 au

[blondrichclosetwitch]

People try to put us d-down

O judge

O Mom and Dad

And the voice said:

This is the hand, the hand that takes

Here come the planes.

And the voice said: Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night shall stay these couriers from the swift Completion of their appointed rounds.

There's always force.

How can I try to explain?

When I do, he turns away again

It's always been the same, same old story

Forgive us now for what we've done

It started out as a bit of fun

Here, take these before we run away. They've hosed you down, you're good as new And they're lining up to inspect you

Poor old Jim's white as a ghost

He's found the answer that we lost

I once was blind but now I see

Was held in chains but now I'm free

I knew this would happen

You're angry and you're captured

And I feel the rapture

You're happy on Friday

By Monday you're crying

I need to book a flight tonight

Looks like the hour is upon us

If you could find an easier road, you'd take it today

Divine intervention couldn't keep the word from leaking out.

When the kids had killed the man I had to break up the band

Diagrams—early 17th century: from Latin diagramma, from Greek, from dia ‘through’ + graphein ‘write’.

Cause what I really meant is when I'm being honest

I'm tired of this shit

And what I never said, why there's a price on my head

It's nothing to do with them, it's my karmic lineage

(oh, let 'em talk about me)

They're just yesterday's news

Your interest really made stacks out of it for me

Lucid as a doll

Kick down the legs

High on the shock

I’m working on erasing you

I get hammered, forget that you exist

There's no way I'm forgetting this

You’re the shit and I’m knee deep in it

“What do you want me to say about 2:01?”

“He is there.”

Where are you?

Become yourself.

So I can see you.

So I can -see- you.

Lied in a minor key which makes one's soul swoon,

In the shadow where her long fingers bring death

So beautiful amongst the pots and plans

There is nothing he can’t cook

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide

Sing a song of praise for your elders

Check out that expiration date man,

It’s later than you think

You can’t enjoy yourself I can’t enjoy myself

Will I get to move on soon?

I think I can, I think I can, I think I

I swear I've lost the last drop of whatever kept me awake, alive.

Strange shadows from the flames will grow til things we’ve never seen will seem familiar

Maybe you’re too close to see

Now I’m doing time

So don’t you lock up something you wanted to see fly

Hands are for shaking, not tying

The butler knew about the fragility

I seem to be caught while in motion by a secret enchantment.

The muted pains

The glass bell covered all the people living in the house.

As if something that could never be repeated

Nothing exists beyond our alliance

We cannot live without each other.

if I get sick, they get sick

their opinion of me and mine of them is our only standard

If I ever said to John” you did a petty thing””he would kill himself

There is no place for such feelings in modern life , that is our tragedy.

and so we died.

We were living in another world.

We have no ordinary sensual life.

My brothers marriage is meaningless. I felt pain detachedly.

What we like is to have long conversations from room to room without seeing each other. It pains us to kiss each other in that stupid normal human way.

And complete death would be so enjoyable.

I can’t bear to see them as bodies.

everything was really finished long ago.

We are far away from husbands wives and children.

John doesn’t understand why his wife weeps sometimes.

She weeps and we despise her for it.

The only thing I feel sometimes is fear, like a fit of madness.

And other times I seem to go blind.

Sometimes I say to my husband “do you know sometimes I believe I am supremely intelligent? “

And he says “how vain you are.”

I am a descendent of Joan of arc.

Nothing can touch me

You’re convinced of the hex

Call me a telepath(oh look it’s the song of the day)

#today is a 10/1

[julesclues]

hi boooo! You’re legit my favorite author on here! I love your writing so much 💕 was wondering if you could do one: outer banks JJ getting so drunk at a party and throwing up at the party and getting sick all over JB car going back to the chateau with all the pogues. And like reader (not Girlfriend yet) taking care of him please 🥺 thank you so much!!!! 😍😍😍 I know you’re busy so like take you’re time and if you don’t want to it’s fine too 💕💕

Drunken Confessions

Warnings: excessive and underage drinking, cursing

Pairing: jj maybank x reader

Word count: 2.48k

Summary: JJ drinks a littleee too much at a party, which makes the reader worried about him. So being the great person she is, she decides to take care of him.

a/n: thank you for the kind words in your request! It really means a lot! <3

3 things JJ Maybank loves most in this world: sex, surfing, and booze. Emphasis on the booze because once he started, it was almost impossible to stop him which, was currently the situation at the party you were all at.

It was a normal party, one mixed with tourons and pouges. But a normal party for JJ obviously meant drinking. You always worried about him when he would over do it like he is now. Though you were all used to the underage drinking, it was kind of hard to remember that it still is, technically, illegal.

The music was almost too loud. You could barely hear your friends as they each took turns telling stories about their most embarrassing moment. “Mine’s gotta be in 3rd grade when I was in the talent show for dancing and wound up twirling off stage,” Kie exclaimed, making all of you laugh. Pope went next and then John B and as you went around the circle, you realized JJ was no where to be found. You stood up in worry and searched the party for his unique clothing style and beautiful set of hair. “Where is he?” You ask, making John B tilt his head. “Who?” You roll your eyes and look at him. “Your best friend?” You ask with a laugh. Before John B could answer though, you all heard some yelling in the distance. Turning your head to the sound, your question was answered.

There was JJ. Standing on top of a table. Chugging beer after beer, almost as if he was putting on a show for the cheering audience under him. They were all applauding him as he downed the substance, some of it pouring down his chest, turning his dark blue tee into black. You groaned in annoyance as you and the other pouges ran up to him. You pushed through the crowd and made your way to the front, giving you the perfect view of JJ’s drunken state. You sigh and stick your hand out to him. “JJ!” You yell, but he still continued to pour the drinks down his throat. “Maybank! Hey! Let’s go!” You attempt again, but it’s no use. So, you climb up on the table with him, earning even more cheers from the people below. Maybe they thought you were going to join him.

He finally turns to you and his eyes light up. “Y/n!” He exclaims happily. As much as you loved JJ, in this moment, you were pretty upset. All you wanted was for him to just take care of himself so he wouldn’t do stupid shit like this. “Let’s go J,” you whisper only loud enough for him to hear. You reach out to him but he dodges your touch. “No!” He yells, scanning the people below. “Please J. Come on. Please let’s go home,” you plead, making JJ turn toward you. This time, his eyes were soft and warm, almost as if he had turned sober for a quick moment. “Ugh, fine,” he groans, but secretly doesn’t mind the feeling of your finger tips guiding him off the table and back to the pouges. You ignored the boo’s you heard from the others, but they soon forgot about it. To you, they weren’t worth JJ’s time.

“He’s shit faced,” you state to the other pouges, as JJ leans further into your side. Without you, he might have fallen over. “What’s new?” Pope laughs, making you roll your eyes. You knew that this was normal for JJ and that the pouges took it as a joke, but that doesn’t mean it should’ve been normalized. You always worried about JJ and the fact that the other pouges didn’t, made you upset.

You sigh as you sway awkwardly with JJ, thinking about what to do. “Can we just take him back to John B’s? He can’t be drinking anymore guys,” you plead, as John B nods and grabs his keys to the van. “Let’s go then.” You all start walking to the van, you and JJ a little bit behind due to his wonky walking. “You’re cute,” he laughs in his drunken state, making you smile a bit. JJ flirting with you both sober and drunk wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it never failed to make you blush like a middle schooler. “You too J,” you admit, and he chuckles without saying another word.

You make it to the van where Kie holds the door open for you two to hop into the back. You shove JJ in first, having him sit near the window while you sit in the middle and Kie sits next to you guys. John B starts the van and starts driving, which makes JJ hold his stomach. You’re the only one who notices it. “You okay JJ?” You ask him, but all he does it roll down the window. “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbles, making your eyes go wide. “Oh no JJ, not in the van please,” John B begs. JJ doesn’t say anything as he sticks his head out the window and starts violently throwing up. All of you groan and laugh, as you rub JJ’s back to soothe him. You repeat the phrases “it’s okay” and “you’re okay” like a mantra.

You felt something on your thigh and looked down to see JJ’s hand. After pulling his head back out the window, he plops down on the soft seat under him and looks at you with a sloppy smile while squeezing your thigh in reassurance. “I’m good,” he laughs, looking around the van. “Good cause if you ever throw up in my van, I’ll kill you,” John B chuckles, making everyone else laugh along.

Finally making it back to John B’s, with JJ getting sick almost every 5 minutes, you limp with him by your side as the pouges rush to get the door open for you two. “Come on,” you grunt, finding it a bit difficult to hold JJ up by yourself. He keeps giggling and laughing while slurring his words. “Get him cleaned up in the bathroom y/n,” Pope says, and you nod. “We’ll get him water and some tylenol but until then, just make sure he doesn’t throw up all over my house,” John B exclaims, making you chuckle and adjust yourself against JJ. “Sure thing John.”

You walk into the bathroom with JJ and plop him down on the toilet seat. He sways back and forth, struggling to keep his eyes open. “Jesus J, your clothes are so dirty,” you whisper with a sigh. “Would you like me to strip then, princess?” You roll your eyes but can’t help but grin at his flirty words. “Shut it Maybank. Let’s just get you cleaned u-“

Your words were interrupted by JJ rushing to get off the toilet seat so he could open it. He instantly started throwing up, gripping the sides of the toilet until his knuckles turned white. You instantly got on your knees and sat behind him, rubbing his back to try and soothe him. “Shit JJ..” you say sympathetically. “I fucking hate when you do this shit.” After a minute or so of throwing up, he sits down on the floor and wipes him mouth. “Come here,” you mumble, coming closer to him with a napkin, but he swats your hand away. “JJ..” you warn. “Y/n just get out of here, okay? I don’t need you taking care of me.” You blink in surprise of his words and how quickly he can switch up. “Instead of being petty JJ, how about you be grateful that someone cares about you!” He scoffs and looks away. “Whatever,” he hiccups. “Why do you even care? It’s not like you’re my girlfriend.” 

You freeze for a minute, trying to pretend like his words didn’t hurt you as much as they did. “You’re an asshole sometimes JJ. Girlfriend or not, I care about you. So stop denying my help and just shut up! God, I don’t even know why I’m fighting with you. You’re obviously so drunk right now. You don’t mean anything you’re saying.” You get up and stick your hand out for him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” He looks at your hand and then up at you. You shoot him a smile and he could swear, drunk or not, that smile would be the death of him one day. 

He hesitantly takes your hand, and you pull him up, having him stumble a bit before regaining his balance. You lead him to his bedroom and plop him down on his bed. You kneel down to take off his shoes for him, but he stops you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, looking down to the ground. “For what?” You ask him, sitting down next to him. He feels the bed dip down a bit, which makes him sway a little. “For what I said in the bathroom,” he mumbles. You shake your head and chuckle. “JJ, you’re just drunk. I know you don’t mean any of it.” You were always so patient and understanding when it came to JJ. It was one of the many things he loved about you. That’s what made you so different from the other pouges. 

“Y/n?” He whispers. “Hm?” You ask in the same volume that he had used. “I like you a lot.” You smile and grip his shoulder. “I like you a lot too, JJ.” He shakes his head and lays down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. “No Y/n,” he sighs, while closing his eyes. “I don’t think you understand. I like you a lot.” You tilt your head for a second in confusion, but instantly look at him wide eyed when you get what he meant. “Wha- JJ? Are you serious?” But he doesn't respond. All you heard from him was his silent snores. You get up from his bed and look down at him, to see he was fast asleep. Your breathing starts to pick up as you pace around the room silently. “Oh my god, oh my god. He didn’t mean that, right? He’s just drunk.. right? My god Y/n, who are you even asking? You’re alone. Right.. okay.” You stop pacing and grab a blanket that’s folded on JJ’s bed and cover him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss on the forehead. “You better have meant what you said JJ, or I’ll kill you.” 

You leave a letter for him and go on your way, hoping he calls you in the morning or is not too sick to remember what he meant. 

Dear JJ, 

It’s your favorite person :) You were pretty drunk last night so the pouges left you some water and medicine while I took care of you. When you wake up, give me a call, okay? We kinda need to talk. And please JJ, try not to get so drunk anymore. You worry me when you do. I care about you. Girlfriend or not. 

Love, Y/n <3

-----

JJ wakes up the next morning with a groan and a pounding headache. He felt like he got hit by a truck. He never drinks this much and he knew it, but for some reason last night was different. He was trying to forget. And apparently it worked because he forgot what he was trying to forget. Bingo. He blinks a couple of times to get his vision from blurry to clear before standing up and stretching. He  looks down at his nightstand and finds a folded piece of paper and instantly recognizes your handwriting. 

He opens the letter and reads it. His eyes go wide when he reads “girlfriend or not.” He starts to wonder what he could’ve possibly said to you last night for you to include that in the letter, but his memory is failing him. Nevertheless, he finds his phone and quickly finds your contact, hesitantly clicking “call.” 

You answer after a couple of rings with a chipper yet out of breath ‘hello.’ 

“Hey Y/n..” he says softly, hearing your pants. “Are you okay?” he asks with a hint of concern in his voice. “Yeah J, I-I’m good. Just surfing. Why don’t you join me? None of the other pouges are here, and I’d like to talk to you, if that’s okay.” You didn’t sound mad or upset, which JJ took into consideration. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you upset. “Sure, yeah. I’m on my way.” 

-----

JJ meets you on the beach about 15 minutes after your phone call. “Hey J!” You say, running up to him with a smile. “How are you feeling?” You ask him, and he just rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m a little out of it but the strangest thing is that I don’t remember anything from last night.” Your face instantly drops and JJ is quick to recognize your disappointment. “Oh..” you sigh, biting the inside of your cheek and looking down. “What’s the matter? Did I say something last night? Y/n whatever I said, I didn’t mean it, okay?” You look back up at JJ with a bit of tears in your eyes. “You said you liked me,” you mumble, making JJ tilt his head. “Of course I like you,” he chuckles. You shake your head, realizing you were mimicking his actions from last night. “No JJ. You said you liked me.” His eyes go wide, immediately realizing what you meant. “Oh.. Y/n, I- I don’t-”

“Did you mean it J?”

“Y/N-”

“Just tell me JJ. Please. Don’t lie to me, okay?”

 JJ looks down for a moment, contemplating on whether or not he should tell the truth to you and potentially ruin the friendship, or lie to you, and ruin the friendship even further. He saw how hurt you look when he said he didn’t remember, so maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance that you liked him back. 

“I like you Y/n. I do. More than a friend. I didn’t want to tell you while I was shitfaced and with you taking care of me. But I did, and I’m sorry. You deserved a better confession from me. I really do like you Y/n but if you don’t like me back then that’s okay. I ju- are you crying?!”

You wipe the tears away as you chuckle from JJ’s concerned face from you crying. “Of course I am, you idiot!” You exclaim, walking closer to him. “JJ I like you too. So much. I was really hoping you were telling the truth because I don’t think I could watch you have one night stands anymore,” you laugh, and so does he. “So does this mean..” his voice trails off but you knew what he meant. You nod with a smile and he returns it, blinking slowly. 

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Please do.”

#jj maybank #JJ Imagine #jj x reader #JJ smut #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot #john b imagine #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #obx fic #obx jj #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #sarah cameron #outerbanks

[sierraraeck]

Control

JJ x John B

Masterlist

Summary: JJ likes losing control, and there is no one safer he can do that with than his boyfriend, John B. But after a particularly awful week, JJ just needs something he can be in control of.

Category: Smut, angst

Warnings: Cussing/slurs, JJ’s home life so abuse and violence, allusion to sexual abuse, rough sex, choking, safe word used. Look, this gets dark, so this is your warning.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I agree with a lot of other people that in their relationship, John B is usually the dominant one because JJ likes losing control, but I’m convinced that after a really fucking bad week, he just loses it and needs something he can control. This is what I imagine that would look like.

•••

It had been a bad week. It felt never ending, getting roughed up by the Kooks, running from the cops, taking the fall for Pope, and now this.

If you keep going down this road, you’re going to end up just like your dad.

Maybe his best friend, and within the last year or so his boyfriend, was right. Maybe he, and everyone else on the island who constantly reminded him of his blood, was right. Maybe he was destined to be a complete fuck up with no future other than three cement walls and a grid of bars. Not like JJ’d ever imagined his life going any differently.

We’re sick of your shit.

Those were the words echoing in his head as his feet made the decision before his mind did.

You are a worthless piece of shit.

He remembered something Pope had told him once, that the brain can’t differentiate between the truth and something that has been repeated to you over and over.

You’ll be back here one day. You good for nothing piece of shit, that’s why your mamma left. Stay down, boy. I don’t care where you’ve been. Really living up to your name, Maybank. You’re just like your daddy. Fucking bastard. Worthless.

Must be true, right? If everyone is saying it, including the only people he’s ever really thought cared about him, it must be true.

As he opened the door to the run down shack, he already knew what he’d see, but a shutter of fear still raced down his spine. His dad was sitting on the couch, all kinds of beer and pill bottles scattered around him.

“What the hell you doing back here, boy?” the gruff voice of JJ’s nightmares asked.

“Dad, I-”

“The least your worthless ass could do is get me a beer.”

JJ complied, because, what else was he going to do? Weak.

As he walked over to his dad, the smell of beer was overwhelming. It always was, but the smell seemed stronger than he remembered. His dad's tolerance must be higher than it was a few weeks ago.

“Open it,” Luke demanded.

JJ tried, he really did, but his hands were shaking too damn much. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.

Apparently he couldn’t do it fast enough, so Luke ripped the bottle out of his hands, causing it to shatter on the floor. JJ flinched at the sound.

“What are you, retarded? Can’t even open one goddamned bottle!”

JJ didn’t even try to duck. He felt Luke’s knuckle make contact with his cheekbone, head whipping to the side. We’re sick of your shit, JJ.

“Dad-”

“Don’t fucking beg you weak, worthless piece of shit!”

Flames enveloped his gut, followed by another fire lit over his ribs. We don’t want you around.

The voice he was hearing sounded an awful lot like John B’s.

“Fucking pathetic! Just like your mother!” JJ was on the floor now, not completely able to remember how he got there. As his body screamed in pain with each new kick, his mind was getting farther and farther away from where he was.

Our lives would be better without you in it. I would be so much happier if I had a boyfriend who wasn’t such a burden, such a fuck up. Someone without so many fucking issues.

He could feel the blood dripping down his face and leg, but refused to make himself consciously aware of it.

This is what you deserve, JJ.

This is what you deserve.

•••

Twenty-eight hours. That’s how long it’d been since John B last saw JJ. The moment he walked out the door John B kicked himself for it.

He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that to JJ. ‘You’re going to end up just like your dad.’ He couldn’t think of a worse thing to say to JJ.

It’d overall been a shit week, and John B knew that he was sleep deprived and irritable from everything that’d gone on, not like that was any excuse for what he’d done.

As time ticked by, John B just kept going over everything he’d done wrong in the past week.

You’re going to end up just like your dad. We’re sick of your shit.

Not to mention the time he grabbed JJ by the collar of his shirt and shoved him up against the wall. The way JJ flinched and seemed to shrink into himself, immediately casting his eyes down, was an image John B couldn’t get out of his head. He knew better than to touch JJ without explicitly asking or giving him plenty of forewarning, let alone grab him out of nowhere while he was angry.

God, JJ looked so scared in that moment, and John B couldn’t even believe he’d just made the person he cared about most in the world feel threatened by him. And JJ didn’t even look like he’d fight back. He looked like he was bracing himself, ready to take whatever harm was to come to him.

JJ put so much trust in John B, letting him be in control of their most intimate time together. JJ once told him that he felt the most safe when he was around John B, and he heard all of the words not said in that one sentence. I trust you. I trust you to have power over me, emotionally and physically. I trust you enough to be vulnerable, knowing that I won’t get hurt. Knowing that you won’t hurt me.

And John B felt like within the span of a week, he’d destroyed all of that.

Just come home, just come home, just come home. Please, JJ, just come back to me.

The sun was starting to set, and John B was getting even more antsy. They’d never had a fight that kept JJ away for longer than a day or so, which meant that John B already knew where JJ was, even though he didn’t want to believe it.

Shit, shit, shit…

John B headed toward the door of the chateau, flinging it open on a mission to save JJ when he looked up.

Oh thank god.

JJ was standing on his porch, hand clutching his side and a couple butterfly bandages over his eyebrow and cheek. His shirt was torn, displaying the three developing bruises John B could see, meaning there were probably at least twice as many he couldn’t see.

John B’s mouth was hanging open, stopped dead in his tracks, unable to find the words to tell JJ how sorry he was and how much he wished he could’ve been better and how-

But his train of thought was cut off when JJ took two big strides towards him, smashing their lips together like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His hands were gripping onto John B’s sides, wadding up the cloth in his fists, and moved the pair of them back into the chateau, kicking the door shut with his foot.

JJ backed John B into the nearest wall, the intensity of the kiss momentarily distracting John B from the bigger situation at hand. JJ tugged John B’s shirt up, helping him out of it.

As they parted to remove the garment, John B tried to get JJ’s attention. “JJ-”

He didn’t let him get any more words out, though, pressing their lips back together the moment he could.

John B knew that JJ had a lot of pent up anger toward his father, toward the kooks, toward the world. He knew that JJ put on a show of being powerful, untouchable, even. JJ wanted others to think he was always in complete control, and while unhinged at times, a force to be reckoned with. JJ wanted others to think he was strong, and John B knew that was because of how frequently he was told he was weak.

John B thought JJ was as tough as they came. He was sure that if anyone else had been dealt the hand JJ had, they’d be doing a hell of a lot worse, and was impressed by his boyfriend on the daily.

But John B always thought JJ was the strongest when he was the most vulnerable, when he was with him, making this new dominant side of JJ concerning. JJ liked losing control and letting his guard down when he was with John B, letting John B take the lead. Right now, though, JJ was putting his walls back up, the tough act coming out. That’s how John B knew shit had really gotten bad, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for it.

John B tried again, “JJ.” He got the same reaction he did the first time, a non answer. John B delicately placed his hands on JJ’s shoulders, creating just a few inches of space between them as he finally got his attention. “JJ, JJ, slow down. I’ve been worried about you. What is going on, what hap-”

“John B,” JJ cut him off with a low, abnormally calm voice. John B stared in silence, growing even more concerned and confused by the look of intensity in his eyes. “Shut up.”

John B knew that at the end of the day, he’d do whatever JJ asked of him, but it didn’t stop him from trying to get more information. “JJ, I just-”

“Please,” JJ almost pleaded, gazing deep into his eyes. “Give me tonight.” John B stared at his boyfriend for a few more seconds before nodding his head. “Tell me if things get too-”

“I know,” John B assured, remembering the safe word they’d established early on in their relationship, South, and the one time JJ had to use it. He’d had a panic attack, mumbling something about a flashback, but John B had never gotten anything more than that.

With the green light, JJ slipped his tongue back into John B’s mouth, cool rings on his hand pressing into his neck, using his body to push John B back against the wall.

JJ was running his hands all over John B’s exposed chest, John B slowly moving his hands up to place on JJ’s waist. The moment he made the slightest contact though, JJ flinched away, grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them to the wall.

His grip was unfaltering, and stronger than usual, and JJ held his wrists there as he started kissing down John B’s body, pausing to suck and graze his teeth over a few spots.

Reaching the waistband of John B’s shorts, JJ moved his grip from John B’s wrists in order to yank his shorts and underwear down. John B’s hands started to tingle, unaware until just then that JJ had been gripping so tight it started cutting off blood flow.

JJ, now on his knees, started pumping his hand slowly up and down John B’s half-hard shaft, the contact sending a shiver down his spine.

At one point, John B couldn’t stop the small jerk of his hips toward JJ, which was the wrong thing to do, as JJ’s crushing grip was back, both hands holding onto his hips and slamming them back into the wall. JJ resorted to using his mouth instead, lips wrapping around the tip and hollowing his cheeks. John B tossed his head back, harder than he intended, making a somewhat painful contact with the wall. JJ started bobbing his head up and down at a faster pace, only breaking contact once to wet two of his fingers which he circled around John B’s hole.

John B could see the contractions of JJ’s biceps, and almost felt his fingers shaking against him. He was confused at first about what it meant, but soon figured out that he was holding back. JJ had always been the dominant one in his flings with girls, but had never been in this position with John B before. He could tell that JJ wasn’t going as far as he wanted to, that he was restraining himself from taking what he wanted.

John B wanted to know everything that JJ had to give, and acknowledged, in almost a challenge-like way, “You’re holding back on me.”

Within a flash, JJ stood up, threading his fingers through John B’s hair to yank his head back, his other hand keeping it’s harsh grip on his hip. John B whimpered at the sensations.

Looking down on him, JJ demanded, “Is that not what you want?”

John B thought it wasn’t, but seeing him now, and knowing how much darkness he has, there was a fraction of a second where he wanted to change his mind. But the second passed and John B still wanted to see all of JJ, every dark and twisted corner, everything he hadn’t seen before. And he could tell that it was taking a lot of effort for JJ to restrain himself, too much effort. John B wanted him to let go.

He shook his head, voice coming out as only a small whisper, “It’s not what you want either.”

It was like flipping a switch. With force, JJ dragged him by his hair to the bedroom, and once inside, threw John B onto the mattress.

It felt a little unfair, John B completely exposed in front of JJ while he still had his shorts and shirt on. It was getting dark now, the sun having completely set over the water, leaving only the light of twilight to illuminate JJ’s face as he climbed over John B.

He quickly coated his fingers with the lube from the bedside table before shoving them into John B. With his other hand, JJ was tugging his own shorts down and reached for a condom. He had to remove his fingers from John B to put it on, causing John B to squirm in his absence.

Without any forewarning, and barely any time to adjust, JJ was pushing into John B, drawing a small whine from his kiss-swollen lips.

JJ set a bruising pace, leaving John B gasping for air. “JJ-” he choked out.

“Is this what you wanted?” JJ hissed, hand snaking up to wrap around John B’s throat. “You wanted to see just how fucked up I am?”

JJ’s grip was getting tighter, his pace faster, as he kept talking. “Well, Maybanks are only good for one thing, so you’re right. I will end up just like him some day. I already am like him. A fucked up monster.”

“J, no, that’s not-” John B started to say, as he reached a hand up to grab JJ’s wrist in an attempt to loosen his grip.

“Don’t touch me!” JJ yelled. John B removed his hand like he’d been burned. “Don’t you get it? I ruin everything I touch!”

John B’s face was starting to flush, his head getting fuzzy. He could only concentrate on the cool rings digging into his neck and the words JJ was saying, sounding farther and farther away.

“Have you ever experienced death before?” JJ whispered like a threat next to his ear. “Because I have. I can show you.”

“Jayj-” John B pleaded, using his last reserve of breath. “S..so-south.”

And just like that, JJ was off him, backing himself against a wall as far away from John B as possible. John B took a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed, closing his eyes until the fuzziness in his head subsided.

When he felt like he could think again, he sat up and looked around the room for JJ. He was crouched in a dark corner of the room, head in his hands, knees trying to block his face.

“JJ,” John B said with a scruffy voice, standing up to walk over to his boyfriend. He slid down the wall until he was seated next to JJ, sure to leave enough room for him to move without touching him. JJ curled into himself even more, leaning away from John B. “JJ, please look at me.”

JJ did as he asked, alluring blue eyes shimmering with tears, a dramatic difference from the dark, intense orbs of only a few seconds before.

“I’m okay,” John B assured.

JJ shook his head, eyes roaming over his hands, and hiccupped, “I hurt you.”

“You didn’t, I promise. I’m okay, I’m right here,” John B told him.

JJ’s eyes were panicked as he scanned over John B’s body. John B followed his gaze, evaluating the already forming marks on his hips and wrists. He was sure that JJ’d left a handprint on his neck, too, which was where JJ’s gaze lingered the longest. “No. I hurt you. I need to leave.”

JJ stood up, making a noise of discomfort as he did so, and hurried toward the door. John B was behind him in an instant and put his hand on the door. JJ stopped in his tracks, taking a step back from John B and looked back at the ground.

JJ was shutting down, John B knew that, and he knew that he had to reach him fast before he went completely under. “JJ,” John B whispered, “Can I… Can I touch you?”

JJ didn’t answer, but he didn’t back away or say no. John B slowly raised his arm, hovering his hand before JJ. “Is this going to be okay?”

JJ nodded, and before John B could fully process it, JJ was throwing himself into his arms, clinging to him like he never had before. He started sobbing, forehead pressed against his chest, and John B couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down his own cheeks.

“How can anyone ever trust me if I can’t even be trusted around you?” JJ choked out. John B wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right, because he was speaking so quietly, but he thought he heard him ask ‘how can I trust myself?’

John B walked the two of them backwards toward the bed, sitting down as gently as possible. He attempted to pull away from JJ, but JJ held onto him. Tilting JJ’s head up, he pressed a kiss to his forehead, then promised, “I’ll be right back.”

John B walked over to put on a new pair of boxers before grabbing the first aid kit, and returned to where JJ was on the corner of the mattress. He lifted JJ’s shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

It hadn’t been this bad in a while. There were four purple, fist-sized bruises littering JJ’s torso, a yellowish one on the back of one of his shoulder blades, and a cut along the top of JJ’s shoulder down his tricep, not to mention the cuts he’d already bandaged himself over his eyebrow and cheek. John B coaxed JJ out of his shorts, which displayed something even worse.

There was a giant stack of gauze covered by a poor wrap job below JJ’s hip, reaching down the side of his thigh. “J… what… what happened?”

“He uh… he um… uh,” JJ trailed off, swiping at his nose. John B stayed silent, giving JJ time to put the words together in his head. “He called me… he said I was a dirty fag and that anyone who wanted to be with me was lying and using me because who would ever actually want to be around me? And then he made me…” JJ shuddered out a sigh and shook his head. “And then he tore his beer can in half and jammed it into my leg.”

“And you tried to bandage this up by yourself?” John B asked, concern dripping from every word. They both heard the real question, ‘You didn’t come to me?’

JJ shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought… I thought you might be getting tired of having to deal with this.” Having to deal with me.

“I will never get tired of being around you,” John B guaranteed. To emphasize his point, John B placed a kiss on JJ’s lips, then both his cheeks, his closed eyelids, down his neck. “I love you, JJ. There will never be a moment when that is not true.” Kissing across JJ’s cut shoulder and down his shoulder blade, John B felt him start to relax. He brushed his lips as delicately as he could over the bruises he found there, then traveled down his torso to do the same. “I love every inch of you. Every corner of your mind.”

“That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard,” JJ said with a small laugh.

John B smiled, looking up at JJ through his eyelashes. “I know. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

JJ brought John B up to kiss him, a finger under his chin, pulling him as close as he could.

When they parted, JJ whispered, “I love you too.”

They stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at each other with small smiles for a while before John B said, “Let’s get you patched up.”

•••

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought, feedback is appreciated. :)

Find me on AO3 at the same username.

#jj outer banks #obx fanfiction #outer banks imagines #jj maybank imagine #jj x john b #outer banks #jj maybank x john b #john b routledge #outer banks imagine #obx #jj obx #john b obx #obx imagine #jj maybank #john booker routledge #john b outer banks #smut #angst

[diary-of-deadweight]

Masterlist.

Fic Idea by @leximills666

“Anything new?” You asked, sitting yourself in the spare chair between Darcy and Jimmy, who handed you your cup of caffeine. “If you consider Pietro teaching the twins how to stream snacks from the kitchen then no.” Jimmy spoke up, his eyes glued intently to the television for any missable details that could play in your favour. “But Jimmy did almost spill coffee onto Director Hayward.” Darcy shoots the mortified male a amused look as you slapped a hand onto his shoulder, trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the mental image that gave you an good amount of serotonin, “I’d pay good money to see you actually do it, serves him right for calling my friend a terroist.”

It was common knowledge that you and the Maximoff twins were close friends after their introduction to the Avengers as you were gaining some semblance of understanding of your teleportation powers and it’s limitations before trauma bonding with the pair over being Hydras successful lab rats. So when Hayward slagged off Wanda it took Darcy, Monica and Jimmy to hold you back from ending his whole career John Wick style. The bastard got real lucky but you couldn’t promise that the next time was going to have him leave a briefing room without a few bruises and even bruised ego. Fuelled by the frustration of recent events that left you feeling helpless as you were forced to watch the sitcom shenanigans Wanda and her dead yet somehow not dead husband and her adorable twins get into that only made it feel like a horror after they end, leaving you with more questions then answers that weighed on your darkening eyebags and breaking every last ounce of paitience you once thought you had along with the sleepless nights of theorising that went nowhere without someone bringing up a flaw made keeping your powers in check a little more difficult that you’d scare Jimmy, Darcy and Monica on a plethora of occasions.

You just wanted to get them out and be done with Hayward’s suspicious ass. I mean it was clear as fuck that vision was in bits and pieces in the video servalence footage. What was he doing with him? Why did he wait this long to show everyone something that would’ve benefited the opertation from the beginning? THAT was suspicious behaviour and yet no one was gonna question it?! Gotta love corruption I guess. “Anything new Dr Lewis?” Speaking of corruption, here it was in human form standing behind you there with his ‘stick up his ass’ attitude; it really pissed you off that you’d love nothing more then to slam your fist into him punchable bitch face until it’s unreagnisable. Sensing your hatred and thirst for violence, Jimmy places a hand on your shoulder and gave you a stern look that read ‘no...not yet at least.’ Sighing you gave him a passable smile before talking a long sip of coffee, making sure to slurp annoyingly loud as possible when Hayward looked at you unamused that you couldn’t help retaliating with a tight lipped smile and the middle finger. Darcy had to cover her mouth from bursting out in hysterics while Jimmy sighed like a disappointed parent but you knew he was trying to hold it together internally as Darcy was. “Nothing worth reporting back on sir.”

Hayward didn’t say anything other then let out a grunt then making his way out of the room not without a snarky comment from you of course, “don’t let the door hit you on the way out directior” to which he replied with as swiftly “appreciate the concern (l/n).” Making sure he was out of sight Darcy burst out laughing so hard she had to lean against you for support while Jimmy allowed himself to chuckle a little had your chest warming up, erasing any forms of pent up frustration like magic. Spending time with these beautiful bastards were what made the sleepless nights worth it in your opinion, knowing that you weren’t alone in wanting to help Wanda instead of harm. “What’re they laughing at?” Monica asked, a dazzling smile adorned her face as she nursed her own coffee between her hands; You shrugged nonchalantly looking back at her with fake innocence that told her more then she needed to know. “The sleep deprivation must’ve caught up to them.”

“Shut up!” The dark haired woman nudged you in the side, almost spilling your coffee in the process, “(y/n) threw some serious sass at Hayward earlier, should’ve been there Monica it was hysterical.” Monica only laughed in response as she patted you on the back, proud that she wasn’t the only one sick of Hayward’s shit, “I guess I should’ve. Would make a great memeory to share in the future” she sat in the chair next to Darcy turning her attention to the screen where Pietro was attempting to be slick and nab a snack while Wanda was cutting onions unflinchingly, only to slip and land flat on his back scaring Wanda as the unseen audicene laughed. Stupid and as cheesy as it was it didn’t fail to make you crack a smile while reminiscing of a similar memory that stuck out like a sore thumb. You and Pietro thought it be a great idea to compete against one another in order to see who’d get to the kitchen first, spoiler: he won by a narrow margin, that still had you calling him a cheat to this day, and decided to hide from you behind the counter like the little shit that he was. Long story short you entered the kitchen thinking you won, he jumps out scaring you so badly that you end up teleporting ontop of him.

“Hey (y/n).” Darcy’s voice brought you back from your thoughts and to reality. The thought of teleporting in there and getting your friends out has been a recurring one though your required to feel someone’s energy signature and with how well getting inside visuals went the likelihood of you sensing Pietro or Wanda for that case wasn’t going to be a piece of cake if it was you’d already have done it by now. “Yes Dr Lewis?” “Think you could-“ teleport inside? Trust me I’ve thought the same thing but the barrier is a major issue standing in my way of actually getting inside and out without trouble.” Despite all odds that didn’t stop you from wanting to give it a try if it meant trapping yourself also you wouldn’t hesitate to do it in a heartbeat. So it took your friends aback when you abruptly stood up from your chair, shoving your coffee into Jimmy’s hands and made a mad dash out of the room and down the corridor unapologetically shoving everyone aside with Monica and Darcy in hot pursuit while poor Jimmy placed your coffee down by your chair and bolted in hopes of catching up but when he did you were already teleported into the barrier that was dragging you into Westview before their eyes.

“(Y/n)!!!!” Monica yelled as she ran towards you, hand outstretched to pull you back but only grasped air when you disappeared form sight, she was so close to saving you but was too late non the less. Darcy and Jimmy shared a look as they came to her side as the feeling of helplessness became more evident within them. “Come on Monica, we can probably catch them on the television.” She said solemnly as they walked back to base.

-meanwhile in Westview-

Scared and confused you found yourself wandering aimlessly down the streets in your new attire of plaid shirt, leather jacket, high waisted trousers, converse and a locket that help a picture of you, Pietro and Wanda inside before finding yourself on your ass looking up at a silver haired male in a black leather jacket, Hawaiian shirt, jeans and worn down sneakers.

“What the-,” his chocolate eyes widened as they landed on your face, “(y/n)?! Is that you?!” His voice was just as you remembered it you smirked, outstreching a hand in a silent jesture to be helped up, “you think I’d let you wander too far?” He chuckled, hauling you off the floor and into his arms, face buried into his neck savouring the brunt sugar smell you’ve missed so much. “I should’ve guessed you’d be several steps behind.” He whispered into your hair, placing a kiss there, immediately comforting you before pulling away to drag you down the street without explanation towards a familiar house that belonged to the auburn haired female who was currently cleaning up after her kids when she saw Pietro, giving him that parental stare. “You’re a bad influence on my kids Pietro, you’re lucky to be my brother or I would’ve blasted across town by now.”

‘Well that ain’t foreboding at all.’ You thought to yourself as you took in the fact that you were finally reunited with the people who meant the most to you, you couldn’t remember when you got here nor how other then the fact that you wanted to visit Pietro and Wanda and that you could teleport. “If it’s any constellation, look who finally decided to pay us a visit.” The silver haired male stepped aside to reveal you in all your unsure glory as Wanda’s eyes widened like they did with Pietro but she didn’t any waste time in running towards you and holding your face in her hands, tears lining her eyes and you couldn’t help but lean into her warmth. “(Y/n)?” She whispered softly. “Hi Wanda, sorry I’m late.” You said as Pietro held both of you close to his chest protectively while Wanda laughed weakly her hand dropping you grasp yours tightly, “all is forgiven now that we’re together...as we should be.” Her eyes flashed red for a split second.

“Yeah, together at last.”

#wandavison imagines #wandavison fic #wandavison imagine #wandavison x reader #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #peter maximoff imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagines

[zemodaddy]

Hey so i finally completed the first chapter of the zemo x reader fanfic. Make sure to read the authors note at the end and i hope you enjoy.!

Synopsis:

Y/n is an ex-avenger who, after the blip was forced to work for the US government. You trained to be an assassin/spy and your gifts of wielding flames made you invaluable. When you were assigned to follow Bucky you find him helping Helmut Zemo escape from his prison cell. What is he up to? Should you stop him?

Warnings: violence, lots of swearing, angst, fluff and in later chapters extreme acts of hatred towards John Walker :)

Shades of Him

They replaced him. They replaced him with a random guy and stuck Steve’s shield on him. You were staring at the TV in disbelief. You thought of Steve like a brother and he definitely wouldn’t have wanted this.

After the blip you had no job, the avengers pretty much all separated and that left you without anything to do, and that meant no income and no income meant no home or food. You couldn’t exactly find a normal job because most people were afraid of you. A trained assassin and spy who could wield flames wasn’t really considered normal. That left you with no choice but to accept the deal the US government offered you. Do their dirty work and you wont end up homeless.

Your newest mission was to track Bucky to make sure he followed the rules set upon him for his pardon. You are close to him, like you were close to Steve. Hiding the fact that you were following him everywhere he went was kind of hard but you managed. You had to manage.

So finding him and Sam visiting a German prison kind of surprised you. Had this got to do with his therapy? Surely not. They left around an hour later and from then nothing more suspicious happened. A quick google search and a deep dive into some public records showed that a high security prisoner resided at this prison. Not just anyone. Zemo.

Interesting you thought. Later that night you followed Bucky and Sam to an old garage. You waited outside for 5 minutes before entering, trying to keep to the shadows of the room. The two men seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. “You want Zemo to help us?” Sam looks exasperated. Bucky looks a bit apprehensive as he says “Look let me walk you through a hypothetical, can I do that?” He begins to explain an elaborate escape plan for Zemo. Your mind was wizzing with thoughts as you tried to figure out your next move. He really isn’t in the right headspace, same old Bucky, you roll your eyes. “What are you guys doing?” You step out of the darkness. The two seemed to jump out of their skin, clearly not expecting you to be there.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Bucky asks. They both looked so shocked by your sudden appearance that you had to suppress a laugh. “I was following you.” He doesn’t look happy. “YOU WERE FOLLOWING ME?” He raises his voice. You weren’t scared because you knew he loved you really. Keeping the same tone as him you shout back “YES AND YOU’RE HELPING A CRIMINAL” “I SAID HYPOTHETICALLY DIDN’T I”. Sam looks like he could start laughing any moment. You weren’t even sure if you should laugh or arrest them. Suddenly your phone buzzes. “Then please explain to me why I just got a message saying that ZEMO HAS ESCAPED FROM PRISON?” Sam looks mad now. “You’re kidding me Bucky” he says. “Look we don’t have any other leads, we were at a dead end.”

You knew that the two were looking for information on the new super soldiers serum. “He blew up the UN, he killed king T’Chaka!” Before Bucky could reply to Sams argument, the sound of a door shutting sounds through the garage and guess who walks in. Helmut fucking Zemo. Your hand flies immediately to the dagger on the side of your thigh. “Woah woah woah” Sam starts walking towards him as Bucky tries to hold him back. Too bad he didn’t see you slip past them and push Zemo against the wall with said dagger against his throat. “Your going back to prison” you pass him a sickly sweet smile. He looked surprised by you holding him against that wall but didn’t fight back. Not with the blade in your hand starting to heat up against his skin. “y/n let him go” Bucky looks frustrated.

“He can lead us closer to the serum, just let him breath for a second” Zemo did start to look a little breathless. Good, he should be scared of you. Reluctantly you let him go. He starts to talk “if I may”. At the same time the three of you go “NO”. He looked a little displeased by the response but didn’t have any other option but to oblige. “Apologies”. After further debating and a lot of disagreements you and Sam finally agree to trust Zemo.. for the time being anyways. “Alright Zemo, where do we start”

You mentally set a reminder to always have an eye on Zemo, how could you not with a guy like him. He seemed to be sending you anxious glances in return, which to be fair you did nearly choke him to death. He leads you to a large warehouse containing numerous cars of different ages, sizes and colours. Probably stolen you think. After grabbing a case full with clothes for zemo you all head to an airstrip. In the middle of which was a private jet. You look at it in awe. “So you were rich all this time?” Sam asks. “I’m a baron Sam, my family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country”. Shit. Those cars weren’t stolen then..

The mention of his country makes you think back to that battle against ultron. You were very tempted to leave the avengers after nearly wiping out the entirety of a population of a country. But they convinced you to stay, where else could you have gone anyway? You think a little longer about the aftermath, when you helped after the battle with the injured, and loved ones finding their dead. It was one of the saddest moment of your life, until the blip. No one else helped from the avengers, they didn’t even visit the memorial..

“Y/n you coming?” Sam was saying from the top of the stairs. Lost in thought you were stood in front of the plane. Maybe I should stop getting distracted you thought. Entering the jet the seats on the right were already occupied by Sam and Bucky, leaving the only other seat opposite Zemo free. Great. As a gentle reminder you check your dagger on your thigh, almost like a warning that if he tries anything he’ll know what’s coming. Zemo swallows looking where it would be and ask his butler person for a drink. Was that his butler or the pilot? Rich people problems you thought. The plane sets off and you look out of the window daydreaming a little.

The other three talk lightly until the mention of Buckys list, which ends in zemo being choked yet again. You smile a little, enjoying the mini acts of revenge for the people he’s hurt and killed. You feel a bit sleepy but then they start to discuss where you were going. “Do we want to live in a world full of people like the red skull” Zemo shakes his head lightly “that’s why we’re going to Madripoor”. Confused, Bucky explains the place’s history in the Indonesian archipelago. “It’s kept its lawless ways but we cannot go in as our selves” Zemo says. Uh oh that can’t be good.

You were right. Zemo had handed you a bag full of clothes and a pair of heels. You stared at yourself in the full length mirror that resided in the toilets. “You have got to be kidding me” you say aloud. Your were wearing a dark purple silky dress that reached only just halfway down your thigh. It exposed most of your arms, shoulders and a lot of your chest. Thankfully there was a black leather jacket in the bag too, however on the shoulders sat a blanket of fur, similarly to Zemos coat that he took from the warehouse. Your heels were also purple. You thank the lord you took the time to train in heels too because you never know when the situation arises when you happen to find yourself in those monstrous shoes.

“This” you point at yourself “is not happening”. “Ah my baroness has arrived” Zemo says, amusement glinting in his eyes. You glared at the word ‘baroness’. “Here put this on darling, to finish it off”. He holds what seems to be a lipstick in his hand. You already knew what shade it was before taking it from him. “Do you have some thing for purple or is that just me?” Sam and Bucky both laughed.

You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad, in fact it looked expensive. To say you were uncomfortable was an understatement, not necessarily for what you were wearing, but for the hand now draped around your waist. Zemos hand. He said that no matter what, you couldn’t break character. Bucky was playing the role as the winter soldier; you felt bad for him, the memories this must bring up. You can’t even begin to imagine. Sam however, wore an extravagant and abstract red suit that kind of looked like a dress. It was funny to see his reaction to which he comments that he looked like a “pimp”.

A car pulls up beside you and you all pile in. Of course you were sat next to zemo in the back. After around five minutes you arrive in lowtown. A place where you could apparently find a gall called Selby. That hand snaked back around you as you intermingle with the crowded streets. The high density of the crowd forced you even closer to Zemos side leaving practically no space between you now. You could feel his warm body against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks down on you. His eyes seem to be softer now than they were before and he gives you a quick kiss on the temple as if to reassure you that you’re safe. You tried to keep yourself from shaking him off of you but as you carried on walking, you got used to him a bit more. Sam and Bucky followed the two of you, both with grim faces.

Finally, you come to a bar, most people around you watching carefully as you all enter. Zemo orders the both of you a shot and Sam gets his usual. This turned out to be something containing whatever the barman cutout of a snake. The sight of it made your stomach drop, and to your astonishment, Sam actually drank it. He looked like he wanted to be sick but, no matter what he had to stay in character. Bucky gave a slight nod, he didn’t get a drink, not as the winter soldier.

You had let it be known of who you wanted to see and as you waited a man came up behind Zemo and you. He immediately guided you away from this man so he was in front of you and Zemo in front of the man. He knew you could hold your own, you had made that clear already, but he wanted to protect you. For the act of course. “You ain’t welcome here” the man stated, placing a hand roughly on zemos shoulder as he turned to face him. “I have no business with the powerbroker, but if he insists he can either talk to me” Zemo points at Bucky. His hand then slipped to yours, holding it tightly. “Or bring Selby for a chat”. The man looks displeased and walks away. You had many things you wanted to say to Zemo at this moment, but sticking to your character was more important. As he continued to grip your hand, other men started to menacingly prowl towards you all. Zemo gave Bucky the order to attack and so he did. A fight quickly broke out between them all but Bucky was far too strong for them all. This ended in Bucky holding one of the guys that remained standing against the bar table. Finally someone called to say selby was ready to see your group. This was going to be interesting.

Notes

Okay i left this on a little bit of a cliffhanger but the next chapter should be out in a day or so. This is my first fanfic i have published so I’m interested to see what everyone thinks. If there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes then umm you didn’t see anything. I hope you enjoyed!

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904

#mcu #helmut zemo #sugar daddy zemo #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #daniel brühl #marvel #tfatws

[tenskittens]

Not Enough - part 1.

Smut <3 Fluff <3 Angst (lots of angst) <3 sex, foreplay, ass, outdoor reader x Johnny pairing. Mentions of johnten pairing.

Not Enough - part 1 - the first part of the JohnTenReader saga.

Wordcount - 2.5k.

You chose to study at NCIT because you had heard that there were great opportunities in technology, and you knew coding was your strongest skill when you were younger. A few years into your time there, you realised that, whilst you were alright at computers and tech - especially for a girl, as some of the younger guys would frequently point out - you were nothing on the natural talent that seemed to have been bestowed upon most of the guys here. In fact, you’re pretty sure you only got a place on your course for some sort of diversity purpose, and the fraternity lifestyle you had ended up being dragged into certainly wasn’t helping your case. Going into your final year, it’s your last summer - you’ve been contemplating leaving the frat house - and the chaos that came with it - once the new semester started.

“Hyung, we’re leaving!” yelled Ten down to the rest of the house, dragging Yangyang out of the door with him. You knew he was yelling goodbye to his closest “friend” in the house, John Suh, and didn’t actually care about the rest of the frat boys hearing him. Ten just wanted to make John jealous because he was taking Yangyang out to one of the more inclusive bars in Itaewon. He initially planned on going out with Johnny tonight, just the two of them. But Johnny wasn’t really down for it today - he had thought he was supposed to be going out to a restaurant with just him and Ten, and when Ten suggested Itaewon John just presumed that it meant everybody else was invited out, too. These two were always getting into these complicated misunderstandings in their entangled feelings, and you’re pretty used to dealing with it by now. But actually, Ten was just as annoyed that Johnny wasn’t out with him tonight. He loves Yangyang, his closest Dongsaeng, but he wanted to spend tonight with Johnny. This whole situation was just a misunderstanding, but neither Johnny nor Ten realised this. “Bye guys!!” yelled Yangyang, excited for this rare occasion that he got to spend with Ten, now that Ten and Johnny were both all-but-dropped out of NCIT.

Once Yangyang and Ten had left, the house was quiet. The others were mostly working on assignments and projects, as they tend to do in the late evenings. Doyoung and Taeyong were probably upstairs bickering about the most efficient way of writing a code, Yuta almost certainly glued to his screen typing out a written assignment - the only one of the group also studying a language alongside computer science. Haechan, Jaemin and Mark were probably out at the student union Dream bar. That left just the two of you - you and John Suh - alone in the frat house.

“What’s up, Johnny?” you ask, putting on a slightly dramatic pout to try to invoke some sort of response from your most-likely-stoned-over best friend and boyfriend. “Nothing, y/n, just don’t ask” replied Johnny, sort of bluntly which took you by surprise. You wait in silence for a moment. “Except, look, I did my hair and makeup to go out with Ten and he just goes and turns our date into a party night and then I don’t even end up going and -” Johnny is interrupted.

“Date??”.

You both shoot your heads around, and sat in the corner of the living room, slumped against a beanbag in a hoodie that disguised any level of his presence, was Jae.

“Yeah bro, you know, was supposed to just be us guys tonight nothing out of the ordinary I jus-”. Jae interrupted again.

“John, you know how often i’m lurking in here and nobody notices me? You don’t need to cover this shit up with me”.

You and Johnny look at each other, and back at Jae. You wonder how much he knows. To the others, you and Johnny were basically a married couple, and Ten was your best friend. What they didn’t know was that, of everybody in the house, the most involved pair was certainly Johnny and Ten, and you didn’t mind that. You were best friends with both of them, and romantically involved with Johnny, but nothing made you happier than knowing how happy Ten and John - the two polar-opposite NCIT dropouts - were when they were together.

“Y/n, come outside with me a second?” asked Johnny, seeming genuinely stressed and upset.

Stood on the roof of the frat house, lined with bottles and scattered with cigarette ashes and joint ends, Johnny opens up to you.

“Y/n, Ten was so mad that I’m staying with you tonight, but I was so mad that he went out with Yangyang. There’s some shit going on here and I don’t feel comfortable and, you know, I really like you y/n but it seems - agh, whatever, that’s not true” - Johnny rests his hand against your cheek and looks down at you. “Y/n, I like you both, but its so hard keeping this shit with Ten a secret and shit like this always happens and y/n I’m so sick of coming to you being stressed and -”.

You raise your hand to Johnny’s cheek too, and brush his hair behind his ear.

“John, you’re so beautiful, you’re so fun. You’re the best friend - and boyfriend - that I could ask for”. He places a kiss on your forehead, and you look at him with wondering eyes, gazing into his dark irises and losing yourself for just a second, stood there under the night sky feeling safe in the arms of Johnny Suh.

What Johnny wanted to tell you, you know, is that he can’t really handle dating both of you anymore. But the thing is - you know that, and you understand that. Right now, though, you don’t want to accept that. You just want your best friends. Johnny seems anxious, and he mutters something you don’t quite hear, although you know for sure you heard an “I love you” slip from his soft, gentle lips. But Johnny isn’t one for romance - not for more than a few minutes. His vulnerable side is only ever present for you and Ten, and it’s always suddenly replaced with his intense energy and both caring, yet intimidating, control.

You didn’t realise John’s hand had moved to the band of your panties, and he had been playing with the lace for a while now. You tune in as you feel his passionate and dominating lips crash down on yours, pulling you in tightly and resting his palm across the small of your back. He drags his sharp, manicured nails across the line of your underwear, shocking you compared to the softness of the hands that were holding you close and tight. You’re feeling vulnerable and lost, knowing that you’re so close to having to let go of the man you love the most, and all you want to do is feel close to him. To submit yourself to him, and to be under his control and to feel his passion and his love, is all that can comfort you right now. Johnny feels the same - you both need eachother.

“Y/n, are you okay with this here?” Johnny asks you. The rooftop is pretty secluded - nobody was around and it was very unlikely anybody would appear up here at this time. It’s not necessarily the most comfortable of places, but the slight risk of being outside, practically in public, sort of turns you on even more, and you can tell Johnny is desperate. “Mhm, please Johnny, just have me” you whisper breathlessly, looking at the ground and avoiding eye contact with Johnny out of shame for how desperate you are for his touch. “Look at me, y/n,” Johnny commands. You look up at him, and he crashes back onto you, moving his hand back under your pants and roughly taking hold of your thigh as he holds the back of your neck with his other hand. You can feel how much he needs you, and you need him.

“So wet, y/n. So needy and yet so patient for me. Such a good kitten”. You shift under him as he finds your clit, gently feeling for where he knows he will get the strongest reaction from you. He’s right - you’re dripping for him. You’re just imagining him taking you against this wall, pressed up against the cold, rough bricks as you support yourself with the pipes running alongside the building. You already need him inside you, but he’s just playing with you - teasing your folds carefully and attentively, occasionally pausing to place kisses on your neck, breathing deeply onto your neck, his breath against your ear making you shudder. Each delicate kiss is followed by the movement of his fingers as he edges closer towards being inside of you, teasing you strongly enough to encourage you to play games with him in return.

You shift your stance to allow Johnny to grind himself against you, and you ensure your thighs place a decent pressure against the bulge in Johnny’s joggers. Johnny moans in pleasure and annoyance as you move against him, and - possibly to stop you from edging him closer to his own orgasm - he pushes his fingers deep inside you, causing you to draw in a sharp breath. He stays there, and looks at you with deep and wanting eyes. You return the action by grinding up against his bulge, which also moves his fingers deeper into you. Johnny takes this opportunity to curl them up, hitting your spot and letting out a mischievous “mhmm” as he does.

“Y/n, are you playing with me? You can’t win, you know that” Johnny announces playfully, with a tone of seriousness that reminds you who is in charge. Johnny rhythmically curls his fingers towards your spot, his thumb playing carefully with your clit, driving the little moans to slip out from between your lips, the sound landing in between the two of you and filling the atmosphere with a sense of vulnerable pleasure.

“Johnny, please, just fuck me here” you beg, the words tumbling from your mouth. Johnny’s eyes darken and he takes on his dominant tone once again. “Y/n, you’re so pathetic, look at you falling apart under my fingers”. He continues to edge you closer, grabbing your ass hard with his other hand, pressing your face into his chest and leaving you in blackness, lost in the pleasure and your quickening breaths as he curls his fingers over and over. You can feel how his other hand keeps you steady but, at the same time, he is ensuring that your leg continues to slightly ride against his bulge. Johnny needs you - his y/n, who wants him more than anybody else has ever wanted him. But he still feels hurt, and Ten crosses his mind again for a split second, frustrating him enough to pull out of you and flip you around, pushing you against the walls so he has full access to your ass. You take a moment to orientate yourself, looking over your shoulder to see Johnny stood there, his hair now sweaty and the veins in his arms pulsing. He looks so naturally beautiful, looking down at you with lustful eyes. You can tell from his expression that he’s feeling distracted and frustrated, and you don’t care. You just want him to take out his feelings on you. You want to feel vulnerable for him. Johnny feels your ass, pressing his thumb against your entrance. He bends over you and wraps his arms around your stomach, stroking your nipple for just a second before stopping, and simply holding you. With his head resting on your shoulder, he tells you “I do love you, y/n. I do”. You both stop there for a moment, heartbeats pounding in unison. Johnny is still holding himself, preparing to take you. “Do I get to come then, Mr Suh?” you ask playfully. And with that question, Johnny snaps back into his dominant position, guiding himself carefully into your pussy whilst still gently teasing your ass. He’s always gentle with you to ease you in, but you’re quite used to his size now so you push yourself back onto him. This catches him by surprise, clearly, as he lets out a tense moan and mutters “fuck you, y/n”. That was all he needed to know that he could take you harder, so he grabs your hips and fucks you, and you both moan together each time he pushes all the way into you.

You gasp for air, feeling johnny is now also moving his hand hard against your clit and driving you further and deeper into a blissful, well-deserved orgasm. You can feel the warmth of his precum, the extra lubrication heightening your senses as he doesn’t stop fucking you. “Fuck, y/n, I’m going to c- fuck, y/n, fuck” Johnny loses control of his words as he comes inside you, the feeling driving you to do the same, as your knees shake and you grasp onto the metal pipe that is stabilising your position. Johnny pulls out of you, and for a second stops to once again hold himself against you, feeling your hearts once again. But Johnny knows he doesn’t want to let you down, and he knows you haven’t finished yet. Within moments of his own orgasm, Johnny’s own lips hit your throbbing and sensitive clit, lapping up the sweet honey that you’re creating, and passionately licking and kissing around your clit. Your breath once again quickens as you feel yourself about to come - and John teases your ass again, just enough to send you over the edge. “Fuck, Johnny, there - yes, please Johnny”. “Sweet kitten, come for me” Johnny commands, and you come undone over his face, knees collapsing as your eyes roll back in bliss. He places steady kisses on your clit, your thighs, and up towards your nipples. He kisses your neck, past your ears, and finally places a kiss on your forehead. Right back where you started, you stand in the comfort of Johnny’s arms, under the stars.

You both stand there for a minute, breathless and warm, Johnny keeping you steady as your orgasm continues to pulsate gently through you. A tear rolls down your cheek as you think about how this can’t last for much longer - you know things are going to end one day. But you don’t want to lose a single part of Johnny, not as your boyfriend and especially not as your friend. You love him, and he loves you too.

“Y/n, shall we head back inside?” Johnny asks you, feeling you shivering from the cold nighttime air. His breath is warm, and his voice gentle and steady. “We should probably get some sleep”, he tells you. You shrug and hold him closer, but Johnny turns you around to head back inside. And when he does, standing there, right behind you and looking at the floor with a tear trailing down his cheek, is Ten.

Ah, fuck.

Read Part II here.

#johnten #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct frat #johnny smut #nct reader insert #wayv smut #ten smut

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ prompt: "you accidentally get sent into the future and see how you both turn out.”

♡ pairing: dick grayson (anyverse / nightwing) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “I said that’s life and as funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks stomping on a dream but I don’t let it get me down cause this fine old world keeps spinning around.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / again like what I said with my Jason fic, you don’t necessarily use the TITANS universe to imagine this fic. i just used this version of dick for no reason. 

“god, this is the last time I do any kind of work with ANY OF YOU!” you yelled at Dick as he bit on his inner cheek. all of you had been fighting off a bunch of crooks and at first, you thought it was okay.....that was until one of the crooks pulled out his hidden magical abilities, “at the very least, we could’ve called Klarion for help!” 

Damian gave you a look as if what you were saying was stupid, “I’M JUST SAYING! WE’RE ALL FUCKING HUMAN AND ZATANNA ISN’T EVEN IN THE COUNTRY TO HELP!” you yelled back. 

Dick was trying to remain calm as he hadn’t seen one of the criminals approaching him. he was too busy charging one that was heading towards you. you; however, had saw them out of the corner of you eye and practically sped to Dick which is what the criminal wanted. 

he wanted you and Dick out of the way in order to get Damian trapped. as you and Dick had passed each other with the notion to save each other, the crook pulled out a gadget that opened up a portal. 

“NIGHTWING!” “( YOUR HERO NAME )!” 

+

the two of you went to grab each other but it was too late. you and Dick had gotten sucked into the portal as you let out a piercing yell. Dick tried grabbing you, hoping that wherever the two of you landed, he would get the hardest impact. 

soon enough, both you and Nightwing collided with the ground. you instantly shot up, preparing to fight whoever was around. Dick had took in the surrounding and whispered that the two of you were safe. 

“where the hell are we?” you asked, trying not to panic, “we need to find another portal back. Damian is on his own!” you fidgeted with your fingers as Dick waved you off. 

“if anything, Damian might be more in his element,” he whispered, “you forget how Damian grew up. I think he’ll be fine. he probably already called Bruce or one of the boys.” you tried to figure out how the hell Dick was so calm about the situation. 

Dick took off his mask as you followed along, “I think are biggest issue might be trying to figure out what year he took us too. I can’t imagine he took us in the past so we might just be in the future,” Dick explained. 

both of you walked down the hill that you had landed on and saw you were in Bludhaven, “I think we’re in your home territory,” you murmured. Dick sighed in relief. he was more relieved that both of you landed in his hometown because had you landed in Gotham, he felt like that would’ve landed you in more trouble with the Bat, “I didn’t think Bludhaven was this ran down,” you told Dick. 

“hey!” he exclaimed, “it isn’t as bad as it looks!” you giggled trying not to catch attention from anyone. the two of you made it down the hill when the realization hit you. Bludhaven had snow falling all over the town and you nor Dick were even mildly dressed in clothes to handle the cold. 

“do you have clothes in your apartment? it’s freezing out here!” you exclaimed. Dick gave you the side eye, “I do but if we landed in the future, my future self might be there. we can run into a store and get clothes there.” 

“and do you have cash? bc if you’re carrying a debit card, that would be really weird to see a transaction from the future,” you replied. Dick took out his wallet and pulled out a crisp 100, “I stand defeated,” you murmured. Dick rolled his eyes as the two of you saw a department store at the corner of the street. 

before you could pull in, you heard someone scream you hero name, “hey! those are sick cosplays!” they said running up to you. you gave him a confused look before realizing, you had to pretend that you weren’t actually yourself, “thanks! it took a lot of work,” you tried to say. 

“I bet. it looks super realistic too! ever since she stopped fighting, it’s been super weird not seeing ( your hero name ) around.” you stood confused, wondering what he meant by that, “oh! you’re supposed to be Nightwing! that’s awesome! do you think I can get a picture!” he asked. 

you looked to Dick who just shrugged and agreed. the two of you smiled for the photo as he scanned it, “thanks! I swear, you look exactly like her too! but clearly that can’t be right since the actual ( your hero name ) is pregnant allegedly!” he said as he turned around to leave. 

“pregnant?” you yelled, holding onto Dick who was laughing hysterically, “it’s not fucking funny! I’m pregnant in whatever year this is!” you yelled. Dick could see the panic in your eyes, “he never said it was actually true. he said it was alleged that you were,” Dick tried to emphasize. 

you walked into the department store, which ended up being a Target, and ran to the women’s section, wanting to get out of your hero costume as soon as possible. once you and Dick grabbed the clothes, he quickly paid for it before the two of you darted to the bathrooms to get dressed. 

you managed to come out faster than Dick as you held onto your costume by hand. with curiosity plaguing your mind, you saw a magazine and looked at the date. 

December 22, 2024.

you sighed in relief. the two of you had only gone three years into the future which was a good thing....right?

“we’re three years into the future,” you told Dick. he nodded as you walked outside, “we can check if future you is actually home and if he’s not, you making some portal to get us back home!” you threatened. 

“at this rate, I would’ve preferred if Damian would’ve been the one to come along,” Dick retorted. you pushed him to street, making him stumble over his feet, “say some snark shit again and see where that gets you,” you told him, “plus, you think I want to get stuck in the future with you? I would have preferred Jason if we’re going to be honest. at least he would’ve been more entertaining to be around.” 

Dick remained quiet, not knowing how to respond. 

the two of you had a weird relationship with each other. at times, the two of you got along, to the point where some thought the two of you were together while other times, you practically hated his guts. no one knew why the relationship was this way but his heart felt a pang as you confessed that you would have rather been here with Jason than him. 

“way to kill a mood,” Dick said. you rolled your eyes, “you literally just said you’d rather be with Damian! don’t blame me for this shit. plus, if it wasn’t Damian, I’m sure you would wanted Starfire next,” you added on. 

Dick looked at you stunned, “what makes you say that?” he asked. you rolled your eyes, “please, it’s not hard to tell that you and Star have a thing for each other,” you said, this time more quietly than before. Dick didn’t know how to respond but quickly for him, he didn’t have to. the two of you had arrived to where lived or at least hope he still lived there. 

the house wasn’t big, not in the slightest; however, it was big enough for him on his own. the two of you looked inside of the window and saw that someone was facing their back towards it. 

“whose that?” you asked Dick. he shrugged, half of him annoyed at you and the other half not knowing who it actually was. the two of you remained looking at the person, hoping they turned around so you could get a look, “it looks like you if I’m going to be honest,” Dick replied. 

you sighed, “I don’t think it is but sure,” your statement was quickly taken back as the person finally turned around. it was in fact you...fully pregnant and opening up the window. you let out a piercing scream as Dick quickly covered your mouth, trying not to get caught. 

“can you shut the hell up?” he whisper screamed, “you’re going to get us caught!” he continued. you took his hand off your mouth, “do that shit again and you’ll be dead before you can even see your future self,” you threatened, “plus! that’s me! pregnant as fuck!” 

Dick tried not to laugh at your last statement but couldn’t, “if you’re pregnant, I wonder whose kid it is and why the hell you’re even at my place,” he wondered, “it’s probably yours,” you joked, making the both of you laugh quietly. 

you remained looking through the window, watching as you stood up and got different things from a box. you were whispered things you couldn’t exactly heart but one thing you did notice was the huge ring on your left finger. 

you whipped your head to look at Dick as his eyes widened. his future self had walked into the living room, giving you a peck on the cheek before bending down and kissing your stomach, “hey bubba! treating your creator well?” he asked. 

both you and Dick looked at each other speechless as you put two and two together. you were pregnant....with Dick’s child, “you better because your mom might kill me if you’re giving her a hard time,” he joked before placing a kiss on your lips, “we should eat before John gets hungry and your dad thinks we ditched out on the plans,” you mentioned. 

“John?” you whispered to yourself, wondering why the hell you named your future kid John, “John was my fathers name, you know, before he passed,” Dick confessed. your eyes widened, “oh, is it?” you murmured back, not knowing what to say. 

the two of you walked closer the door as you noticed your belly again. it was bigger than you realized as Dick had to help you down the stairs. you watched yourself get into Dick’s are as you were struggling to put the belt around you. eventually, Dick drove away and left the two of you alone again. 

the air was thick with silence as you had no idea what to say, “parents huh?” Dick asked with a chuckle of nervousness, “yup....and you’re the dad,” you added on. Dick nodded as you sat on the curb with your hands on your knees, “and you’re the mom,” he replied. 

you let out a laugh of disbelief as you couldn’t make up anything to say, “crazy right? I think we’re married too,” you finally looked at Dick as he stared at you, almost lovingly, “is there an issue with that?” he asked as seriously as possible. you shook your head no, “nope. just weird that we were the ones that ended up married and having kids together,” you said. 

Dick slowly grabbed your hand and held it softly. 

“I mean it could be weirder...it could have been Jason or Tim,” he said out loud. you shrugged, “I mean, that would have weird too,” you played with Dick’s fingers and bit your lip, “I guess we should try and find our way back? we wouldn’t want to change the future,” you gave Dick a hopeful look. 

he nodded as he helped you up but without hesitation, he pulled you in for a searing kiss, “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while now,” he whispered as he put his hand on your cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb. 

a few seconds later, both of you saw a portal opening with Damian screeching from the other side of it, “COME ON YOU BUNCH OF IDIOTS!” he yelled dramatically. you laughed, looking to Dick, “you heard the boy, let’s get the future started,” Dick nodded grabbing your hand and stepping into the portal. 

#DC imagines #DC comics #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #comics

[anxiousstark]

The three times JJ tried not to break down + the time he did | JJ MAYBANK

Request:  “Fluff request: The day after JJ has a fight with his dad, the reader and JJ stay in bed laying down facing each other and their noses are touching and they have their hands intertwined and the reader is telling JJ everything she loves about him.”

Word Count: 1977

Warnings: Changed it a little bit. Mentions of abuse, drugs, blood, swearing (always). Didn’t proofread much, I’m tired.

All Rights Reserved. The author, me, don’t allow any type of copy or adaption.

BIG MASTERLIST

You couldn't help but laugh loudly as JJ Maybank guided you around the beach, dancing under the moonlight. His chest rumbled while he examined how dizzy you felt from going in circles. "It's coming. It's coming." He warned. His left hand ended up resting on your waist while his right hand, was intertwined with yours. "I'm going to dip you." And he did. And when he did, you had the best view, even though everything seemed to move as you were dizzy from laughing and dancing so much with him. You could see JJ Maybank's face and the fully-starred dark sky behind him.

JJ let you fall on the sand gently, falling next to you and breathing hard. You were still laughing, serotonin running through your veins.

"You guys are stupid," Kiara smirked, sitting down on the sand, cuddling Pope whose arms were wide open, hoping to hug the girl he was in love with, and warming her up as the night seemed to be cold. "I admire you two not having worries at all." She sighed, still smiling.

"Ugh," The blond next to you groaned. "You are just jealous because I prefer Y/N as my dancing partner." He teased her, making her roll her eyes. "And she prefers me." He glanced at you.

Turning your head to the side to look at him, you nodded. "But I think we didn't dance much, most likely we were going in circles." You grinned. The boy laughed, coughing due to how hard he was laughing. Happily, you gazed at the sky. "I'm sleepy." Yawning, you turned on your side, getting closer to JJ. His left arm was under his head while his right arm immediately brought you closer to him, helping you rest your head on his chest.

You liked JJ Maybank, but you always believed that he was far from your reach. And (probably) he just saw you as his closest friend. However, even if it killed you deep inside, you would stay like you were if that meant JJ Maybank would be the happiest person in the world because he deserved it more than anyone else.

But.

When Kiara had said that she admired how both of you had nothing to worry about, she didn't know the weight he carried on his back due to the situation in his house. JJ didn't cough because he was laughing too hard, he coughed because his father had beaten him last night and his tummy was full of red bruises, turning into purple and green.

JJ and you were the only ones in the Chateau. Sarah and Kie and went out grocery shopping, dragging John B with them. Pope was coming later as he had to help his dad with some late deliveries. Therefore, the Maybank boy, and you were the only ones, playing with a volleyball you had found while going to the Chateau.

JJ tried not to be competitive, not wanting to hit the ball with too much strength, accidentally hitting you and causing you pain. Hence, he tried to use a suitable strength, passing the ball to you. You were doing the same.

However, the ball fell to the ground as you saw two cars getting too close to both of you. "JJ," You whispered without turning around to glance at him. You just felt his hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him as he saw some people getting out of the car, coming closer to both of you in quick steps. "Who are they?"

"I don't know." He noticed that those young adults looked furious. He didn't like the way they were getting closer to the both of you, especially because two of them were grabbing basketball bats. "Just stay behind me, okay?"

"JJ Maybank, right?" One of them asked. He seemed to be the leader. The blond boy nodded, which was the only thing you could see as you were listening to him, staying behind him. His arms were extended because everyone would have to pass over his dead body to get to you. That wouldn't happen. "Your fucking dad said to come to find you. He said you would pay us."

"What?" You didn't know what they were talking about. "He lied to you all. I have nothing to do with him, especially with that topic." He growled. "I don't even have money for myself. He is avoiding paying you all."

"Well, I don't care," The man gritted his yellow teeth. He seemed to be young, but he looked so fucked up. "I care about my money."

"Well, I don't care," JJ answered back. "I care about you all getting out of here because I have nothing to do with that son of a bitch."

The man walked closer to both of you, his hands gripping JJ's shirt collar, moving him harshly until his back hit the trunk of a tree. "I want my fucking money! And I don't care what I have to do to get it." He spitted on his face.

"Oh," God no, you knew that tone. You knew JJ was going to be sarcastic, and you were already shaking from fear. "So you are into BDSM?"

"Oh, so you are one of those funny guys, uh?" He made a gesture with his head. One of the other men walked closer to you, one of those who had a bat. You tried to step back, but he quickly grabbed your arm. "Let's see how much you laugh now, boy."

Maybank noticed what was going on, his eyes going from the man that was grabbing you to his bat. "Don't you dare."

"Let's show the boy that we don't joke around with mad drug dealers that are anxious to get their fucking money." Another gesture. Next thing you knew, the bat had hit your upper thigh, making you gasp. Eyes glistened due to the pain he had inflicted.

"Dude," JJ screamed, spitting all over the man's face. "I'm not fucking kidding, you hear me?" He glanced at the man that was seizing you. "I will fucking go crazy and kill all of you if you touch her again, you hear me?!" He started fighting against the man that had him clutched by his collar, trying to get away from him. "Don't you fucking even look at her!" He continued screaming, which made you break down, sobbing violently. "Don't be fucking cowards! Come at me! She has nothing to do with this!"

And that's how you ended up being seized too, so you wouldn't run to JJ while the others were beating the shit out of him. When they left, you ran to him. He was just there; pale, spitting blood, not being able to move from the ground. And thankfully, the others arrived, shocked to see their bloody friend laying on the ground while you were on your knees, crying and asking him what you could do to help him.

While explaining the situation as best as you could while sobbing hysterically, John B and Pope helped JJ sit down, giving him some time before they would help him inside the Chateau. Kiara was searching the aid kit, and Sarah had gone inside to get a glass of water so JJ could clean his bloody mouth.

"H-Hey," JJ stopped you from talking or weeping. "T-That was n-nothing. I-I'm perfectly f-f-fine."

No, he wasn't.

"Hey, we can't leave yet." You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at your friends, who were excited to get into the water. "JJ isn't here."

"He texted me saying he can't come today. Said he felt sick." Pope shrugged. What?

JJ texted Pope Heyward to tell him that he wouldn't join you all today, and that was strange. That was so rare. You were always JJ's first option when he needed to call or text someone. Okay, maybe you were overreacting, and nothing was going on. But you couldn't help but feel this uneasy feeling thinking that maybe JJ texted Pope because he was mad at you, or something had happened to him.

Intrusive thoughts run through your head, making you even more anxious. "I'm going to bail on you guys!" You ran to John B, showing him your hand, asking to borrow his car. He placed the keys on your hand without asking where you were going. "Have fun! Don't wait up for me!" You screamed while running towards the car.

Your heart broke.

Your heart broke because you had noticed that JJ avoided talking about his dad. He never talked about his family, claiming that the Pogues were the only people he needed.

Your heart broke because you had noticed how he seemed to avoid swimming, not wanting to take his shirt off. You noticed how his confidence disappeared. You noticed all those things but tried to convince yourself that everything was alright. Because the last time you asked JJ if he was doing fine, he avoided the topic.

Your heart broke because you had parked the car at the end of the street. An empty street if only JJ Maybank's father wasn't hitting him repeatedly, pushing him inside their house. You gasped and got mad at yourself for not coming out of the car and insulting that son of a bitch. But maybe walking closer to JJ would make his dad even madder, hitting him harder. That's why you waited for the right moment.

You closed the door behind you, trying not to make any sound. Going upstairs and cursing yourself lowly when the old wood creaked. "Fuck, where was it?" Finding the door you were searching for, you opened it slowly.

The person lying on the bed quickly turned to glance at you, terrified of someone breaking in his house. "Y/N?" The blond boy turned on the lamp that was beside him. "H-How?" He glanced at you with a confused expression decorating his face. "D-Did you just break into my house?"

You nodded your head, taking off your shoes and getting into his bed. His face was full of bruises and scratches. Biting your lower lip, you tried not to cry for him. "You taught me to do so," Both of you were lying on your stomachs, facing each other. "JJ," You started, getting closer to him until your noses were touching and his hot breathe fanned over your face. "I love you," You swallowed. "I love you more than a friend does, and I want you to know that you are so loved. We love everything about you. I love everything about you."

JJ's face came even closer, his lips grazing yours, too emotionally tired to kiss you as bad as he wanted since you guys were fifteen. He pecked your lips. "I love you too."

"You know we all are here, right?" Your left hand found his right, clutching it as gently and firmly as you could.

He nodded his head. "He makes me feel like I'm not worth anything." His eyes got teary until he couldn't hold the tears anymore, running down his red cheeks due to the pain and anger he felt.

"I'm going to beat him up," JJ chuckled. "The way you would give your own life for everyone you love? The way someone hurts you deeply, but you would still give them a second choice because you believe people should have opportunities? The way you move me away from the road when we are walking, and you get that place? The way you always remember to buy everyone's favourite snacks when it's your turn to do grocery shopping for the Chateau? The way you smile and make everyone feel better?" The way-."

"Okay, okay," He stopped you, pecking your lips. "I get it. I'm worth it."

"Yes, you are."

JJ Maybank broke down that night. But JJ Maybank had all of the Pogues to help him get up.

#jj maybank fics #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x oc #jj x oc #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj fic #jj fics #jj fanfic #jj fanfiction #outer banks #john b outer banks #outer banks x reader #jj outer banks #outer banks fluff #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you #obx x y/n #obx x reader #obx x you #obx #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj obx fic #obx fic

[goddesswritings]

Sins of Lovers - Colby Brock | Part Three

Title: Sins of Lovers – Part Three

Pairing: Colby x Reader

Summary: Y/n has an eye-opening conversation with her mother, but she’s not all that sure she can change. With Colby by her side, she finds ways to navigate the way she feels about what is happening.

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: Horrible parenting and just some tooth rotting fluff.

MASTERLIST

********

<< PART TWO

“How are you feeling?” Colby asked when you woke up from your nap. He was lying beside you, caressing your arm in the most wonderful way.

“I feel okay. I’m still really confused by all of this.” You admitted while turning to face the blue-eyed man beside you.

“Don’t worry, I’m confused too. But not about us. I know what I want to happen between us.” He pushed some of your hair behind your ear as he nuzzled close to you.

You happily let him pull you close. “What do you want to happen between us?” You knew what you wanted but you needed to make sure that Colby wanted the same, because you didn’t want to put all your feelings into a guy who doesn’t feel the same, but it felt like he did.

“Well.” He kissed your cheek. “I want to be with you. I want to pursue a relationship, despite the fact that our parents are engaged. I don’t care if this is wrong because all I want is to be with you.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I am. Do you want that?” He sounded a bit scared to hear your answer.

“I do. I have liked you for way too long, to just let you go like that.” This answer satisfied him because he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Let’s see where this will go, okay?”

“That sounds perfect to me, Cole.” You both kissed again when there was a persistent knock at the door.

“Stay here, I will answer it.” He said pulling himself from the bed and making his way to the door, where the person knocked again. He opened it and immediately your mother pushed her way into the room.

“Could you give us a minute, Colby?” She asked not even looking his way.

“Umm no.” He answered clearly knowing she was going to yell at you.

“Excuse me?” She questioned finally looking at him and sending him a glare.

“This is my hotel room also, so you can’t kick me out.”

Your mother just rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She grumbled and faced you, who was still in bed. “What the fuck was that at lunch?”

Of course, you knew she was going to give you hell for it, but you at least thought she would let you recover first. “I’m sorry I got sick?” You said in a questioning tone.

“Bullshit. You just wanted to cause a scene when something special happened to me.”

“No mother, I legitimately went off to puke. I wasn’t trying to cause a scene.” You pulled yourself to sit up in bed. Your mother still looked pissed.

“Yeah that’s hard to believe.”

“Why is that?”

“You always manage to find a way to ruin whatever is going good for me.”

She was being cryptic.

“How?”

“John proposed to me and instead of being happy for me, you make a bullshit excuse to get out of there instead of sitting there and enjoying the moment.”

“Would you have rather I thrown up all over the table, mother.” A level of sass was heard in your voice.

Her eyes were practically in slits as the anger went through her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“You’re a fucking spoiled little brat. Can’t you just let me be happy for once?”

“I don’t know why you think I’m stopping your happiness.”

“Because you walked right out of my engagement. That’s so fucking rude.”

“I already explained why.”

“I don’t buy it. Why don’t you want me to be happy?” She started to sound like a child at this point.

You still weren’t feeling completely well from lunch and her whining wasn’t helping at all. Colby looked like he was about to lose his patience.

You pulled yourself from the bed, to stand up in front of her. “Who said I didn’t want you to be happy?”

“You’ve sabotaged every chance of happiness I could have had. Your father left because of you. Then every time I tried to date; no man wanted to stay because I had a fucking child.”

Here we go again. She was blaming you for all her dating problems.

“I was four years old when my father left, how was I the one to make him leave?” You had a feeling you knew what she would say but you wanted to see if she would actually go that far.

“It’s because you were born. You were unexpected to us and he never wanted a child. He stayed for four years but he was never around. The two of us never wanted you.”

Her words slapped you in the face. It all came crashing down on you and you needed to sit down. You stepped back and sank down onto the bed.

Colby knew he had to step in now. “It’s time for you to leave.” He told your mom, and she didn’t look happy.

“Who are you to tell me to leave?” She was defensive.

“Mother please. I don’t feel good and you’ve said enough.” You argued.

She stared at you for a while before deciding to leave you alone finally. “You better change your attitude, Y/n.” She grumbled before rushing out of the room.

Her words swirled in your head. Tears blurred your vision as the gravity of her words fell on you.

“Y/n, baby. Please don’t listen to her. I don’t know what her problem is, but she had no reason to say those things to you.” Colby took a seat beside you and pulled you into his side.

“She’s right though. They never wanted me.” You mumbled into his chest, letting the tears fall.

“She’s a bitch for saying that to you. No parents should say something like that to their child. It doesn’t matter if it’s what she feels or not. That’s just fucked up.”

He was right but you couldn’t stop the tears. “But they don’t want me, Cole. My own parents don’t want me.” How pathetic.

Colby pulled you into his lap and wrapped you up into him. You two were particularly close in this position. He placed his forehead against yours and held you close.

“Y/n, sweetie. Fuck your parents. If they’re going to say that, then they don’t deserve you. They are the shit ones in this situation.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You whimpered as he showered you with these intimate kisses.

“You have me, y/n. I’m not going anywhere. Please let me catch you when you fall and show you how loyal I can be. I will make sure you feel nothing but love and happiness from now on.”

“I want that.”

“You will have that. Trust me and I will make sure to bring you all the love, happiness, and acceptance one could ever ask for.”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his in a soft and truly sweet kiss. The feelings he gave you were intense, and you knew there was something much deeper between the two of you. His actions proved he felt it too.

“Thank you, Colby. I hate that I brought you into this but thank you for supporting me right now.” You were still snuggled up in his arms.

“Of course, I’m here to support you. Now what do you say we take a nap and then order some room service for dinner?”

“I like that idea. We don’t have to leave the room, so I’m down.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead, before leading you back to the bed and wrapping you up into his arms. He brought comfort to you, even when you weren’t feeling well.

**

The next morning, you woke up feeling better and to a text that said your mom wanted to have lunch with you. Alone. Colby woke up to you frowning over the text.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” He questioned as he looked down at your phone.

“My mother wants me to meet her for lunch, alone.” You said while still frowning.

“Damn. I guess there is no way you can get out of it, is there?” He asked while talking the phone from you.

“Nope, she will surely kill me if I bail on her. I already told her I would meet her in the lobby.”

“I’m sorry.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It’s okay, Cole. I shouldn’t be scared of my own mother. I’m hoping we can have a civilized conversation, especially if we’re in public.”

“Yes, hopefully that means she will stay levelheaded.”

You nodded but were still fretting meeting up with her. Who knows what she would say to upset you today? She seemed or be exceptionally good at making you upset. When you returned home, you thought she had changed, but she definitely had not changed.

“I can hang around and stop her if she gets out of hand?” He suggested with the cutest little smile.

“Thanks, that’s extremely sweet but no. I’m going to handle her on my own. I can do it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. I need to talk to her, maybe tell her that she has to stop blaming my father leaving her, on me.”

Colby smiled at you. “You’re brilliant.”

You giggled. “Thank you, Colby. I have to get ready now.”

He grabbed my hand before I could leave the bed. “Take a shower with me first?”

“I don’t have that much time.”

He leaned in close and placed the sweetest kiss on the column of my neck. “Please, I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

His offer sounded so good. “Okay, but maybe I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself.” He sent you a sexy wink, before he pulled you off to the bathroom for that shower.

Your mother was already waiting in the lobby when you exited the elevator. The nerves had bubbled to the top by the time you’d reached the bottom floor. You had no clue what her attitude would be like today and it scared you.

She turned and found you walking towards her. You couldn’t decipher her mood from that far away, but you tried to keep up a positive mood as you walked towards her.

“Good afternoon, y/n. Are you feeling better today?” Her question took you off guard.

“Ahh, yes. I’m feeling much better today.” You answered.

“Great, let’s get going.” She led you from the hotel out into the sunny streets of Boca Raton. It was midday, which meant that the streets were full of people milling about, doing whatever the city had to offer. “There’s this cute little café about a block away.” She said as you trailed her. She still hadn’t mentioned yesterday, which felt nice.

“Sounds good to me.” You answered as the two of you quietly made your way towards the café.

It wasn’t too busy when you got there, so you both were seated pretty quickly at a table that sat right by the open window. The waitress handed you menus and left you to look over them.

“Y/n, I need to apologize for the way I acted last night. I shouldn’t have done that at all. John and I talked, and he made me see the truth. It was unfair for me to treat you like that.” She said once she’d looked over the menu.

Your stomach dropped when she said John’s name. The only reason she was apologizing was because John convinced her to do so. Of course.

“Oh, thank you, mom.” You mumbled as the waitress came to take your orders. The tension was thick between the two of you, but you both pretended it was not.

Once the waitress took your orders, she left you and your mother alone again. “I should have never said what I did last night. I didn’t mean it, sweetie. It was messed up for me to put all this blame on you.”

“Mother, you have been putting blame on me since my father left.” You retorted, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“I know I have. I need to apologize for all of that. I know it’s hard to forgive me for all I have done, and I understand that you need time. But I need you to know that I’m sincerely sorry for the way I have treated you.”

“Why apologize now?”

“Well, I’m engaged to an amazing man. A man who has changed me for the better. You’re getting older and I realized I don’t want to drive you away. I already did when you left for college, and I can’t keep doing that. You’re going to get married one day. You’re going to have kids. I want to be there for you and for them.”

Her explanation made total sense, but it didn’t sound completely genuine and it concerned you. There was a chance she could easily turn on you if you did something she didn’t agree with. Something like sleeping with the guy that was going to become your stepbrother.

“Thank you, mom. Your apology means a lot to me, but we should take it slow. You did so much to me when I was growing up. It really messed me up. But I think I can try.” You explained.

She sent you a small smile. “That’s all I ask for. I want us to get along and I want to be a real mother to you. I promise to work on myself and we will see where it goes.” She suggested.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.” You answered, feeling an inkling of doubt bubbling up inside of you.

**

Once lunch ended, your mother left quickly, claiming she had a spa reservation a few streets over. You just rolled your eyes and started to head back to the hotel. You’d texted Colby to tell him the lunch was over, but he hadn’t replied. Perhaps he had gotten busy.

As you walked, a figure caught your eyes. A tall blue haired guy was walking towards you with a huge smile on his face. It was Colby. He reached you and took your hand in his.

“Hey gorgeous, someone looks happy.” He commented as he led you down the street.

“Well, lunch went well with my mother. She apologized for what she said. I told her I needed to take it slow though.” You explained as Colby led you down a street that led away from the hotel.

“I’m happy it went better than you expected. I think it’s wise to take it slow.”

“Especially since she only apologized because your father talked to her.”

“Of course it’s like that. Sorry babe.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek before continuing to lead you down the street. The crowd had considerably thinned out.

“Where are we going?” You questioned as you caught glimpses of the ocean behind the buildings.

“I have a buddy who had a beach house here, and he’s not in town this week. So I figured we should go spend the day and perhaps the night there. To get away from the parents and of course have some alone time.”

“That sounds wonderful. But I need some clothes.”

Colby smirked and sent you a wink. “You won’t need any clothes, love.” This made you blush deeply. The thing that was blooming between the two of you, felt so natural.

The two of you walked up to a gorgeous beach house. It was small but extremely cute. It felt more your pace than the opulent hotel you were staying in.

“What happens if our parents go to find us and we aren’t there?” You questioned as he led you to the house.

“We don’t have to worry. My father told me he was taking your mother to a fancy dinner to celebrate and that you and I weren’t invited.” He unlocked the house and led you into the cozy little home.

“Perfect. Then we have an evening alone together.” You acknowledged.

Colby shut the door behind you before he lightly pushed you up against it. “We sure do, sweet girl.” He captured your lips in a passionate little kiss that left you breathless.

You happily kissed back, feeling true happiness while you were with him. He really made you feel wanted and appreciated. Something that was often hard to feel when you were around your mother for long periods of time.

He pulled away from your lips and his kisses started traveling down your neck. He sucked on the sensitive skin before he finally pulled away. You grabbed a hold of him and pulled him back, not done yet. Your lips landed on his in a flurry of passion.

Colby chuckled and broke the kiss again. “I love this baby, I really do, but I have plans for us.”

“What kind of plans?” You questioned, curious of what Colby planned for the two of you.

“My buddy has a boat, and so I packed up dinner for us and I figured we’d go for a nice boat ride. How does that sound?” He asked, taking your hand and leading you through the small house.

“I love it, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“You do. I lied when I said we didn’t need clothes. I packed us some clothes for tonight.”

You shook your head as he led you into the bedroom. On the bed was a bag that was full of your things.

You turned and kissed his cheek. “You’re the best.” Looking through the bag, you pulled your bathing suit out.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I just want us to have a fun time here, instead of being stuck at that hotel with our parents. I’m sure they love the alone time they are getting without us there.” He stated going through his own bag.

“Of course.” You excused yourself to the bathroom to put on your suit and get ready for the evening. Once you exited the bathroom, you found Colby in the main living area, checking over the food he’d packed for you both.

“You ready?” He looked you over and licked his lips at what he saw. That action alone, had your body growing hot with desire. How did this man do this to you?

“Yes.” You helped him with the stuff as he led you from the house out to the little dock off the backyard. There was a Sea Ray boat docked onto it. It was a pretty sizable boat. “Do you know how to use a boat?”

He smiled as you walked onto the dock. It rocked lightly with the waves. “I sure do. I used to go boating every summer with my father. He had me get my boating license when I turned 18. So you’re in safe hands.” Colby stopped at the boat and put the stuff you needed down. He hopped onto the boat and then grabbed the bags. You handed yours to him. Then he took your hand and helped you onto the boat.

He settled the bags before he started to undock the boat. Once it was free from the dock, he swiftly led the boat out to the open sea. You sat on the cushioned bench as you watched him navigate the water until you were on the open sea. You pulled on your sunglasses and relaxed until Colby turned around and mentioned that the two of you needed to put on sunscreen.

You put it on him first since he was still navigating the boat. He loved the feeling of your soft hands rubbing the lotion onto him. Your fingers traced the scratches you had left on his skin two days prior. They were fading, but you could still see them. Once you finished, Colby stopped the boat and allowed it to drift. He then took the sunscreen from you and started to apply it on you.

His strong hands rubbed it over your sensitive skin, causing goosebumps to form as he rubbed it all over. He rubbed it over your shoulder, letting his hand dip over your chest and tease the tops of your breasts. Then he focused on your back, and lower back. You could tell he was itching to touch you in all your sensitive places, but you were still too close to the shoreline for you to feel comfortable. Once he’d finished applying it, the two of you washed the excess lotion from your hands.

You once again took a seat and Colby began to move the boat again. He pointed out certain spots he would love to visit one day before the two of you were finally far enough from the shoreline. He anchored the boat.

“It’s so calming out here.” You said as you looked out into the water. The ocean wasn’t too wavy today, it was perfect.

“It is and I enjoy it. But I also enjoy my company.” His blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and it was beautiful.

“I think I like my company too.” You said teasing him.

“You think? Baby you better be sure of it because I’m about to show you how much you should enjoy being with me.”

“I would like that!”

He let out a cute laugh. “Of course, I should have known.” He leaned in and kissed your lips. “Do you want to swim for a bit?”

You nodded, happy to do anything with him. For the next hour, the two of you played in the water, messing around with each other and having a blast. The sun was starting to go down, but there was at least an hour in a half left of daylight.

Once you had exhausted yourselves swimming, you found yourself lying against Colby back on the boat. It was so sweet.

“Colby, can I ask you something?” You suddenly felt the need to ask this, so you wouldn’t step over the boundaries.

“You can ask anything.” He intertwined a hand with yours.

“How is your mom after what your father did to her?” He was quiet and you thought you had overstepped your bounds.

Colby squeezed your hand. “She’s better than she was when it first happened. When she first found out, she decided moving back to Kansas was the best choice for her and it hurt. I couldn’t go with her because I had to finish school. For so long, she refused to even open up about how she felt but when she did, it helped her move on. She’s now in a good relationship with a guy she dated in college and things are going well for her.”

You nodded. “So she’s okay now?”

“Yes, she is. I mean she still hates my father, and I don’t blame her, he’s such an asshole. I can’t even count the amount of women he’s had after the divorce. Cheating is just what he does, and I don’t think he will ever change.”

“My mother is going to completely see that, and I want to feel bad, but I can’t after what she has done to me.”

Colby kissed your neck sweetly. “Yeah, I wouldn’t feel bad either. She’s been so horrible to you and it’s not fair.”

“I’m a little happy you have seen the way she treats me. No one else ever believed me when I talked about it. My own father just said I was making up things for attention like many children of divorced parents do. It always been hell.”

He hated hearing that, but he knew exactly how you felt. His own father accused him of it, and honestly sometimes he was just acting out for attention. But with your mother, it was a different story.

“You never deserved it at all. We’re going to do what we can to make sure she treats you with the respect you deserve.” Just being here with him was honestly so good for you. Also hearing that he was here to support you made everything feel better.

“Thank you.” You brought your intertwined hands up and kissed his knuckles.

He buried his face into your neck. The two of you were quiet as you just basked in the comfort of being there together and being away from your parents. The warm sun on your skin was making you feel sleepy and Colby just let you relax against him.

At some point, after the sun started to set, Colby suggested some dinner and you happily agreed. He set up a little picnic for the two of you on the boat. He even packed some wine.

“This is so cute. Colby Brock, you’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?” You teased as you sipped some wine.

“Baby, it’s not a secret. Not anymore at least. I find it’s easy when I’m with you.” He really felt that you brought out the best in him and he wished he would have made a move before you both graduated from high school.

“I love this side of you. A lot. I have never had a guy go out of his way to get a beach house for us as well as take us out on a boat and prepare dinner.” If heart eyes were a real visible thing, you knew you would have them.

Colby leaned over and kissed you like he had been doing all day. It never got old. “Good, I would expect more of this from me. Because I just want to spoil you and make you happy.”

“I will happily accept this, as long as I can spoil you in return.”

“Of course. Oh wow, look out there. I just saw some dolphins.” He pointed out into the ocean where some more dolphins jumped up making you giggle.

“That’s so cute.” Once again, your hands were intertwined, and you just had the sweetest little boat date you could have ever imagined.

 PART FOUR >>

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[murderdaddymayhem]

Trapped - Mark Hoffman x Reader [NSFW]

Hoffman has feelings for Strahm's fiance. Now that Strahm is dead, you struggle with returning those feelings just for the night.

Set in between Saw V and VI. Please visit the ao3 link for full tags.

“Hey. You left something by the coffee machine.”

You look up, and see Detective Hoffman holding your engagement ring. “Oh,” you smile. “How do you know it’s mine?”

“I guess I look at your fingers a lot,” he jokes, tossing it to you. You slide it back on.

“Do you? How’s this one look?” You playfully flip him off, and he manages as much of a chuckle as the stoic man ever could.

“I’ve sure seen that one more than the others.”

You return the ring to your finger, sliding it on and sitting back down at your desk.

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Hoffman mentions, “Wanna come?” You normally wouldn’t join the rest of the officers after hours, but you had been making more of a solid effort to go out and enjoy yourself now that the initial sting of Peter’s death had subsided for you. You tilt your head. 

“Is Lindsey gonna be there? Matthews?”

“Yeah. Sing, Tapp. Everyone’s going.”

“Sure. I’ll be there,” you nod.

“Great.” He looks like he wants to say something else, and eventually closes with, “Don’t work yourself too hard.”

You look down to the paperwork on your desk, and back up to return with a quip, but Hoffman’s gone. You spend longer than you should looking out your door, mindlessly counting the number of steps it takes him to get back to his own office as if you hadn’t already memorized it.  

Mark sits down at his desk. He’d always had a thing for you. He’d been jealous of Strahm, not only in his stellar reputation with the guys, but of his pretty wife and his perfect life. Mark may have seemed like the handsome hero everyone dreamed of, but in reality, he was a pitiable alcoholic whose sole personality trait was mourning.

If you ever did return his feelings, it would probably be because you pitied him for the loss of his sister, which hurt more than the bindings John had put him in that first day of initiation. He only wanted one thing, really. Maybe two, the first being justice. True justice. As for the second, it's not viable to have you in the position he's in, but his tendency to run from his emotions is being put to the test by your acceptance of his invitation. 

 When you get to the bar you and everyone at the station frequent after work, Hoffman’s sitting there. Within a half an hour, it’s become apparent the others aren’t coming... and were never coming.

“You invited me out under false pretences,” you say, accepting your drink of choice from the bartender with a nod. “Why?”

“I told you, the others didn’t show.”

“I work for the FBI, and you’re a detective. You’re honestly trying to lie to me?”

Hoffman considers this, purses his lips. “Not very well thought out on my part, I guess.”

“What, did you want to talk to me about a case?” you ask. “Something about today’s paperwork?”

“You know I don’t want to talk about that crap. I wanted to ask you how you were,” he corrects you, taking another generous sip of his second double vodka of the night. “All these months later. Treat you to a night off.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Right.” You’re quiet for a moment. “I’m okay. I haven’t really said it out loud yet, but I think I am.” You debate opening up, but you know he’s also lost someone, so you take a chance. “I feel bad when I forget him.”

“Yeah. I know how it feels to forget. My sister was a huge part of my life, and I never thought I could. And I can’t. Difference is, I try to forget.” You stay quiet, ruminating on the reminder of Mark’s dead sister. He didn’t talk about her often for that reason you suppose, but everyone who knew Hoffman knew he was the way he was because of her death. “You’re not wearing your wedding band,” he mutters, starting in on his third drink.

“I lost it,” you whisper.

“Like you lost it by the coffee machine today?”  

You avert your eyes down to your lap. “Maybe you’re not the only one who tries to forget.” Silence passes between you as you explain. “Looking at it opens up old wounds. Keeping the past in the past is my way of dealing with it. He’s gone. If I think about how awfully he died, how scary his last seconds were, it’ll be like it happened yesterday... and I’ll have to start the process again.” You shove your hand down into your pocket, unwilling to study your bare ring finger any longer. “The past is as tangible as the future, detective. If I can’t feel it, it’s not there.”

“You think denying it’s gonna help you in the long run?”

You frown, looking up at him. “Nobody’s denying anything.” Blinking as if in slow motion, Mark gets up and tosses money down for the two of you. He takes your arm and leads you out of the bar, into the cool night air. Confused and more than a little angry, you jerk your arm away. “Why did you invite me for drinks?”

“I wanted to offer my condolences. Again.”

“Bullshit. It’s been 4 months and you haven’t once said you’re sorry he died in one of John Kramer’s sick traps. I know you two weren’t close, but why wait this long? What do you really want?”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Look me in the face and tell me one thing tonight that isn’t a lie,” you demand. Mark turns to you fully.

“Okay. I want to fuckin’ kiss you.”

You hesitate. That was the opposite of what you were expecting. You try and find words as Mark stares at you with that dark gaze, those eyes that seemed to linger in your mind now that you were lonely and no longer trapped under the weight of a lacklustre partnership.

“So? What’s stopping you?” You can never tell what’s going on behind those eyes; he guards his feelings and he guards his secrets. You know he has more secrets than the average man, but he’s a detective. How bad can they be?

“You want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.” He advances, walking you back against the brick wall of the alley no doubt filled with the scum John had him abduct for his games. “Huh? You want me to kiss you how you’re used to? Kiss you like it’s an obligation? Like it’s what people expect me to do?” Your eyes start to prick with tears as Hoffman brushes your hair out of your face. “You want me to tell you I love you like a man who’s only true obsession is a serial killer he couldn’t begin to understand?”

“Hoffman, Peter—”

“Don’t say his name,” he mutters, “You’ll cut the wound wide open again, sweetheart.” He presses his lips against yours, and you feel your body release all of its tension. He kisses like Strahm’s antithesis—like he knows what he’s doing. He’s rough and he’s present, nothing like how you’d imagined the cold detective would. Peter had tried, but as much as he wanted to be, he hadn’t loved you as much as that damn case. Hoffman adversely seemed to care about anything but, even though he was in charge of it. You used to think everything was a façade for Hoffman, that appearances were everything. Façades have to crumble sometime.

  By the time you had arrived at his apartment with him in the passenger’s seat, the full effects of the detective’s four double vodkas had set in. He tries to maintain his sense of self until the elevator, then down the hall and into his place.

“Shit,” Mark grunts, sliding your jacket off, “I want you.”

“No you don’t.”

He licks his lips. “Wanna bet?”

“You’re drunk, and we’re colleagues,” you mutter. “You’re gonna walk into work tomorrow morning and you’re not going to be able to look me in the eye.”

“What, after taking you on every surface of my apartment?” he mutters, lips dipping dangerously close to your neck. “Your pussy isn’t gonna shock me. Yours isn’t the first I’ve seen, but it’s sure as hell on my list.” You try once more to push him off, and he tries to stand wearily. His brown eyes blink a few times, and he shakes his head. “Fuck. Sorry.” He lets go of you, backs off. You realize your mistake, and take him by his lapels.

“Are you?”

He looks back up at you, and through your shared gaze, he sees his own arousal reflected in your eyes. His lips are back on you, finally touching your skin, and his hands roam under your top, up to cup your breasts and paw for the hooks of your bra.

“Around the back,” you whisper against his lips. In his drunken state, Hoffman misinterprets this to mean you want to be turned around, and you find yourself pressed against the wall as his hands massage your ass. A moan slips from you as you try to reach back. “I meant the bra.”

“Fuck,” he repeats again, slightly slurred, and reaches up to take it off of you. It drops down one arm, and Mark turns you around again to take your top off and release the garment from your sleeve. “This is what I’ve been fuckin’ missing?” he mutters, half to himself. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Tell me more?” you ask coyly, wrapping arms around his neck. He growls, picking you up by the ass so your legs can wrap around his hips.

“You don’t even wanna know the shit I fantasize about with you,” he mumbles, grinding himself between your legs.

“Wanna bet?” you volley back his line with a grin, and he scoffs, working down your panties as you reach a hand forward to tease him through his business casual pants. The feeling of his bulge grounds you in the reality that yes, Mark Hoffman does want you back. He wants to fuck you in his apartment, and he wants to do it now.

“I’m drunk, but I’m not drunk enough to tell you that, honey.” He presses a soft kiss to the curve of your jaw and slides your panties off, dropping them and rubbing his fingers back up your thighs and beneath the plush seat of your ass. His fingertips are oddly rough, for a detective who hasn’t seen field work in three months.

“What’s your secret, Hoffman?” you ask, and he uses one hand to stroke up the column of your neck.

“Gonna have to fuck me to find out.”

The two of you move over to his couch, Hoffman attempting to lift you over. His state tells you this is a bad idea, so you just pull him by his tie over, and push him down on the couch. He seems to like your show of control, eyes roaming up and down your body as you stand over him. “This feels a little unfair,” you whisper, lifting a hand up to squeeze your breast. Hoffman tears his eyes away from the action.

“What does?”

“Look at you,” you gesture to his fully clothed form, “And look at me.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” he nods, reaching down to squeeze himself. You get between his legs on the couch with a huff, and take over, unzipping his pants and giving him a better squeeze through his boxers. You can feel how hard he is, how large his bulge has grown. He grinds up into your hand, makes no move to undress himself any further.

“You’re selfish,” you mutter.

“I never said I was a nice guy,” he replies.

“You’re a detective.”

“Gray area.”

“For what?”

“My hobbies.”

“Which are?” You sit back on your heels for a moment. Hoffman seems to realize he was about to let something big slip, and your curiosity only grows as he cuts himself off.

“Shut up, will you? And kiss me.”

“That’s my line,” you groan, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out.

“I stole it.”

“You steal a lot?” you probe, hoping to uncover that elusive secret.

“Like I said,” he mutters, face still stone cold. “I’m not a nice guy.” You moan as he pulls you down against him, and moves his hand down to uncover his cock in a smooth movement of his hand. He groans as it grazes against your thigh and up to your pussy, and you lean down to kiss him again. His large hands reach up to your smooth naked back, clutching your body to his as he deepens the kiss. Your breath mingles as you pull away, vodka in his and the mint of chewing gum in yours.

“Condoms?” Mark reaches beside him to the coffee table, and pulls open a packet. Reaching between you two and keeping you held up with the ease of a strong bicep, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he rolls one onto his shaft—the feeling alone of his own hand on himself is enough to make him moan, but he keeps it together. You lift up to position yourself.  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

 “I’m ridiculously hard for you,” he replies, eyes half lidded and lips parted. “I think if you left me now, it would be the first time in my life I’ve cried.” You roll your eyes, and he sits you down on his cock. Your eyes roll back. He looked big when he first took himself out, but it was nothing compared to the feeling. He’s stretching you all the way to the base, hands tightening on your arms. He rocks up once, and you whine his name softly. “Can you move?” he whispers, slurring his words.

“Yeah.” You start to rock down, and his breath hitches. After a moment, he reaches his hands further back, feeling your ass and groping it before sliding them up to your lower back to guide your movements.

“So good,” he mumbles, “Never knew I wanted you... this fucking bad.”

“When did you figure it out?” you smirk, gasping as he hits deep.

“Today, at the office.” His eyes slip shut. “I looked at you sitting there, and wished your picture was on my shelf instead of all the bullshit awards I don’t fucking deserve. One thing that means something to me, that I don’t have to tempt fate to get. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Just someone else. Just someone else.”

You can’t think of a response. To save him embarrassment in the morning if he, by some miracle, remembers this conversation, you don’t reply. You’re afraid you’ll scare him off if you reciprocate the sentiment, and you’re terrified you’ll offend him if you coddle him. Then again, he could mistake your silence for apathy. Even in his impaired state of mind, Mark seems to realize what’s running through your head. He pulls you down against his broad chest again to put all these thoughts you had no business thinking while getting fucked to bed.  

Still, he offers no tender explanation of his confession, no further apologies or bashful take-backs. He only increases his pace, grunting as you start to feel your climax build.

“I wanna feel you cum all over me,” he growls, “Fuck. Fuck, let me feel it.”

“Hoffman.”

“Use my name. Use my fucking name—”

“Mark.”

“Ah,” he hisses, trying to make himself last. “Good girl. Good girl...” You squeeze around him, riding him back and forth, your clit grinding against his pelvis and your ass slamming down into his thighs. He lets out sharp puffs of air, wrapping one arm around you and tightening it. You feel as though you’re as close to the distant man as you’ve ever been as he breathes your name into your hair, burying himself in it as he buries his cock the deepest it will go inside of you and stills.

You’re both almost there, and the formality between you dies.

“Mark—I’m gonna cum,” you breathe desperately, “Don’t stop!”

True to character, Hoffman doesn’t offer any verbal encouragement, but his body language is worth a thousand words. He bites your earlobe, reaching down to rub your clit in circles. The action makes you gasp, and you brace yourself on his chest as your orgasm finally hits in waves. His hips convulse inside of you as he finally lets himself finish with you, and your grunts and groans meld together into a harsh symphony of panted out breaths.

“You moan so pretty, babygirl,” he sighs. A warm flush rushes through your body at that, and you’re not sure why. This needs to stay a one night’s stand, not some workplace romance the two of you can giggle about behind closed doors. It would only be a liability to both of your careers in the force,  and you know Mark will agree once he sobers up in the morning.

“Stop thinking,” he groans. His voice is gravelly, sated. “Hey. Stop. More importantly, stop guessing what I’m thinking.”

You stare down at him, eyes dancing between his. Your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper. “What are you thinking?”

“Absolutely nothing. Which is what you should be thinking of too, after we both fell into bed together.”

He seems to grow uncomfortable with the close eye contact, feels as though you’re reading him like a book. He moves your head down, where you lay there on his softly rising and falling chest. His steady breathing makes you think he’s fallen asleep, but his eyes are wide open. He stares up at the ceiling as if he was staring up at Peter Strahm again, watching the walls close in on the agent and crush his bones as he himself sunk into the ground safely entombed in glass. He swallows, imagining how your bones must have crunched in on themselves as you crumpled to the floor receiving news of your husband’s death.

His fault.

John’s fault. Jigsaw's fault.

No.

His fault.

He thought acting on his feelings and sleeping with you would make him forget Strahm ever existed. Instead, it felt like Strahm was the one in that box, watching the walls close in on Hoffman as every shitty thing he’d done in his life came closing in on him. Hoffman feels his heartbeat pick up desperately, but talks himself down as he did every night. He listens to the rhythm of your breath, tries to meditate to it.

You don’t have the problem of hyperactive thought at the moment—you had taken Mark’s advice, and calmed down. It’s okay that you had moved on. It’s okay you had found comfort in someone else’s arms, and it’s okay that it’s Hoffman. Despite this, one singular question seems to bounce back and forth in your head as curiosity digs its nails back in.  

 Your finger traces a pattern in the rug below the couch... the pattern of a puzzle piece.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #hoffman x reader #detective hoffman #detective hoffman x reader #saw #saw v #saw vi #saw 5 #saw 6 #costas mandylor #saw franchise #saw movies #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #saw fanfiction

[silkybullets]

“Death Call”

Midland Hotel, 1925, sitting alone at a table the evening before Christmas, Tommy's icy eyes met with a face he never had ever thought of seeing again, not whilst being alive at least. Which lead us back to Birmingham, 1914, after he volunteered in Small Heath rifles, he spent his last couple of months home holding your hand in the hospital, watching your colours fade as dying of an unknown disease.

Warnings: English is my second language.

Words: around 2k

Tommy just ordered a drink, adding to that a whore, a brand new one in honor of Christmas when he initially went to light his cigarette. His eyes drifted to a table further away where a woman was already sitting down. He did recognize her, remembering the sweet touch of an old lover. His stiffened body didn’t receive the orders to continue moving sent by his brain, his mind too occupied playing memories of before the war. Before it all begins, or all ends, depending which side you’re looking.

One the other side of the room, you were searching the pockets of your woolen coat. When you finally found your cigarette case, you got one out, sliding it in between your soft lips. After pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you hassled lightening up your cig and welcomed the poison in your lungs as if it was the purest thing. 

The waiter came closer to you, putting down your rhum, which you drank in one go and ordered another one. It’s been a couple months you didn’t drink and, after this first shot you don’t remember why. When doctors failed to diagnose you and closed your file with a lung disease you were young and never tasted the flavor of the liquid poison. But at the cliff of death, God granted you the wish to live.

Too bad that’s when your memories of endless & lonely drinking nights happened. 

Coming from a christian family, it was no question for them you had been chosen by God to do something great in this world. Pushing their luck they sent you to an orphanage run by nuns to pay your debts to God. When their initial idea was to keep you pure for as long as you were to be alive, you chose a different path for yourself, bounged down into alcohol, drugs and whatever came with it.

Saying you were a non-believer would be too much, but the idea of being some kind of “chosen one” was nonsense to you, that just meant death was right under your nose or waiting for you at the corner of the street. What happened next was logical consequence, your depraved self was sent back home after the nuns numerous warnings were ignored. You did not change, and decided not to. 

When being saved or witnessing a miracle helps people get their life in order, it had the reverse effect on you and you had yet to get your shit together.

When they recommended you to drastically change your ways for the sake of your family if not for you, you gave in. You had siblings, and knowing how hard your family could be on them at times, you didn’t want to leave them alone. But your good will ended tonight.

You looked at the filled glass in front of you for what seemed like an eternity,  weighting the pros and cons of getting drunk tonight and all the other after that one. You being dead or alive it’ll be okay for your family, you assured yourself to avoid feeling guilty for choosing not to fight. 

Ten minutes and three empty cups later, you were ordering another one. The waiter was intently looking at you, concerned, while you were ignoring his pout.

“You sure you want rhum, ma’m, Can I bring you something else, gin perhaps?” He was as smooth as one could, but the implicit meaning behind his words irritated you the most.

“Do I look like I’m sad, eh? Tell me ‘cause I don’t look at meself in mirrors these days.” You begin, agitating your fingers that were holding another cigarette. 

“Gin’s for sad women, whiskey for big boys crying, rhum for people like me: We are not sad enough for trying to drown our pain in gin, not hopeless alcoholics enough to to get drunk with something as tasteless as whisky. We simply enjoy a slow death with a sweet and spicy flavor. Please bring me the whole bottle this time.”

Without realizing it, you offered the man the warmest smile he had seen tonight and he gave one back even if still quite taken aback by your confusing revelation.

Tommy had seen enough, he got up throwing a bill near his drink and cleared his throat for lack of clearing his head. He walked to the table, the woman he once knew was seated, his voice already reaching her ears before their eyes would meet.

“Is this seat taken?” He motioned to the second chair around the table. Finishing another glass she invited him to sit down with a move of hand. Her cigarette in between her lips, she poured some rhum into her glass and ultimately lifted her eyes to his face.

“Are you sick of the hotel whore, Thomas? Am not one if this is your question.” She blinked as puffing on her cig. 

“Merry Christmas to you too, Y/N” He coughed. “See you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Nor did you.”

Lies, it was all lies, if it wasn’t her eyes he hadn’t recognized her. The woman he was in love with was long gone and so was the boy who loved her.

“So OBE it is, now?” She looked up to him.

He stayed in her eyes before daring to speak, and break the eye contact.

“You were always used to call me Tommy, we can stick to that.”

She didn’t respond nor look at him, keeping for herself any emotions his words had unleashed into her, if they did.

“What happened to you?” He spoke in a more vibrant ton. An attempt to ease the heavy atmosphere.

“War happened to us, Tom.” 

His eyes snapped open on her.

“What France did to you, remaining alive did to me.” She offered him a fair smile, looking straight at him with the same piercing gleam hiding behind her iris than when they were younger. 

“We all came back alive. John, Arthur, Freddie... Although they are now some missing pieces.”

“Yeah, fucking pieces spilled everywhere. It’s looking like the puzzles we used to play when we were younger, huh? Does that ring any bell?” She giggles.

It was hard for him to read her, he didn’t know what he felt either. 

He stayed at the hospital three months straight holding her hand as her colors were fading. He remembers vividly how difficult it was for her to breath, speak, even keeping her eyes open was a huge sacrifice. But she’d never compromised to keep them shut as he told her to, his face gave him the strength of an army, as she used to say. And that had him laugh, even though now he doesn’t remember the last time something as close as a laugh came out his throat.

“Don’t get fucking lost in memories, Thomas. Just ask for it.”��

She poured some liquor into her glass and slowly slid it to Tommy as if anticipating him telling her he didn’t want it.

He watched her moves with amusement, it was odd to him to find her here, but even more peculiar was the fact it seems like she knew him still. Like those ten years that separated them weren’t there, like there wasn’t a day they didn’t think about the other fondly. Her gaze didn’t leave his, and he knew exactly where her mind was because his own was at the same place. She was getting all the information she could to try to match his now tired face with the one she had been picturing in her head all those years.

“Okay then.” he nodded. “ Where have you been?” 

A smile appeared at the corner of his lips, they were playing a game he couldn’t only play with her, she was the one girl before France, everyone got their advantages.

“Fucking dying of being alive after I got strunk by some miracle.” She raised a brow as if to voice the displeasure of missing the boat.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I wish I was, Tommy.”

He let out a long sigh. Once again he failed at keeping a light atmosphere. It was to be said she wasn’t any help.

That’s when he realized no matter how it felt like they were still the same teenagers, back in 1914 before everybody got fucked up, no matter how hard the memories were hitting him this exact same instant with their first kiss, their first touch and the first time they exchanged their desire to live a life together, they were not the same. Nothing was.

She was only a mere shadow of herself, and he? He couldn’t even look at her in the eyes for more than five minutes, too afraid it would dig out things that must be kept where they were nowhere to be found for his own sake.

Every little thing about before France hurt him. Even the happy throwbacks, especially the happy throwbacks. Knowing he would never feel those feelings again, never get silly about the breeze meeting with his skin or the rising of the sun at the top of a hill killed him most. That’s why he didn’t want to ask more about what happened to her. But at the same time, the questions came naturally to him, as if he waited all along to throw them out, taking off his chest a weight he never realized to initially be there.

“Have you done better after I left?”

“I did. For a time. Some years, in fact, even though my parents sent me to a nunnery to thank God for his mercy.”

He snorted at her words.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me? They were always about keeping you saint, even asked me to fucking give up on taking you running in the fields to watch the night sky until sun rised, they never thought it could be the other way around, you leading me.”

She laughed at this thought.

“Don’t you dare say this as if you disliked me being the lead, Tommy Shelby.” She sneered.

“No, I indeed liked it.” He shook his head without hesitation.

“If only they knew what we did, in those nights.” They both spoke, their voice overlapping along with their minds.

“Tommy you got to follow me, or else we’ll be too late.”

“Let me catch a breath, we got all the time to come up the hill some other nights.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s tonight the fireballs are going to be running in the sky!”

“You aware it’s not called “fireball” and that they are not ‘running’ in the sky?”

The girl stuck her tongue out, turning to him, her eyes mechanically squinted at the move. She did not realize he was right behind her and faked all along still behind at the feet of the hill to annoy her. His body strongly collided with her, making her stagger but Tommy’s arms locked her waist firmly, avoiding her body from meeting the ground, and his lips dropped on her mouth in a second, she couldn’t even close her eyes during the kiss.

“Stop it!” Her suave voice worded as one of her hands went hitting his chest, even if her deepest desire was for him not to let go of her lips.

“I’m thinking about that one night we first fucked. Bodies wet both by sweat and dew“ She muttered.

He was sitting but naked on the grass, his fingers intertwined in her hair that was falling at her back as holding her tightly. She was the type of flowers you thought were beautiful but couldn’t help but rip off the ground, dooming them to die in your hands. 

Her legs were strongly wrapped around his hips, she was carefully grounding down on him, making sure every of her moves were slow to make the pleasure last. She turned loose the grip of her arms around his neck and leaned backward so he’d hit her from another angle, this one allowing him to reach the bottom.

Her screams filled his ears and soon enough his mouth as she straightened back up, seeking his eyes, wanting to connect even more. The darkness he ignited in her eyes that night never left, always leading him to always want her, even in the most inappropriate places.

“I was thinking about that time at the local church.” He admitted.

“Every-fucking-body heard the screams--” She proudly stated.

“The priest was more than disturb” He added. “But they never found out who that was.” 

“Well, we know.” She handed him her cigarette. He gladly took it and smoked as much as he could, clouding his lungs as well as his mind.

She giggled some more, shaking her head both sides, she couldn’t believe they did such a thing, but knowing as mad they were when together, it was all figured out.

“It came back, Tommy.”

“What did?” He gained his serious tone back, eyes locking with hers.

“The disease, they say it’s even more violent this time, but I know it just never left. It has been lurking in the dark to come back when I’ll be happy again. But seeing I figured out its plan, it decided it was time to finish me off.” She sang. Her voice was devoid of any sadness, and he noticed it. “I think it’s a curse, Tommy. Run in our blood. Me grandma’ had that too, it passed a generation, leaving my mother and little sister alone. But I fear for the others.”

Old reflexes leading the way, Tommy’s hand fondled hers in the most natural way. He leaned forward to her as she took off his lips her cigarette, filling her lungs with that poison in hope it would kill the one that resided in her since way too long.

#peaky blinders #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby x Reader