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delopsia · 6 months

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Springsteen | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,100 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, (Note the Reader does wear a dress!) unprotected sex, dancing, sex against the hood of Rhett's truck, mentions of Rich!Reader, wearing Rhett's jacket <3. This is best enjoyed with a listen of Springsteen by Eric Church, but you're welcome to imagine any song you'd want. Brief Summary: Dancing to the radio with Rhett gets heated a little bit too easily.

"Go, go, go!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" You squeal, damn near jumping off that last stair. Water splattering beneath your feet as you tear through the gravel driveway. Led along by the hand that's caught your wrist in an iron grip.

Wind catches beneath the ends of your dress, blowing it up past your knees as you run. The kind of brazing breeze that sends you knocking into Rhett's much warmer side, clumsily clinging to his side. Limbs painfully knock together, shoulders and elbows not coordinated enough for such a thing, but he's getting his arm around you and cinching your body into his, and it's almost enough to ward off the bite of late autumn.

"Told ya t' get a jacket!" Rhett sputters, but he hasn't a problem with having you this close. Even if that does mean your ankles are hopelessly tangling. Can't slow down out of fear of that front door opening and the sound of your name serenading through the air as you're summoned back inside, but can't speed up because someone is bound to trip.

"You said the wind wasn't that bad!" Your retort is rewarded with a patch of loose gravel sliding out from beneath you, nearly sends you careening into the ground as you turn.

"Yeah, if you got somethin' more than a dress on!" It's the singular, distant barn light that lets you catch a glimpse of his grin, couples so wonderfully with his wild blue eyes, untamed and free, like that of the herd of mustangs who roam the outskirts of town.

For a moment, time stops.

It's just you and Rhett in this big, cold world. Seconds away from disappearing from the sights of anyone who may be peeking out the house windows. Hidden in a dimly lit room, just the two of you, for as long as you want.

Until his shoulder clips his truck mirror.

"Shit—!" He's already biting into the side of his meaty palm, gaze darting toward the house, where a hundred ears could have heard him.

But you doubt anyone would come out here, even if they did hear him.

Slipping out from his side is the worst thing you could ever do because the chilly air nips at your skin, even in the safety of the barn, but being cold will have to wait. Too busy looking over to see if he's broken his mirror or, worse, cut himself open.

"'m alright," somehow, you already knew he was going to say that.

And now here you are, shivering in front of his broad frame, struggling for words. Of course, he's alright; a man who works on a cattle ranch has worse injuries than a shoulder bumped into a truck mirror. Falling off his horse, cattle trying to run him over, bull horns getting jabbed into soft flesh.

His deep chuckle dances through the air. Effectively snatching and running away with every single one of your thoughts. "You're cute when you're worried 'bout me," his hand rises to push his hat further up on his head. Makes it a little easier for him to lean in, bumping your noses together, "Y' know that?"

It's a little bit too easy to reach up, smoothing your hand up his body, feeling the gentle swell of his broad chest and the solid ridges of his collarbones, all on your way to curl your fingers around the back of his neck. You hardly have to pull him in. The slightest pressure, and he's stepping forward to close the gap.

Rough stubble scratches your chin as his lips meet with yours. Chapped and bitten to the brink of bleeding, but just as familiar as three nights ago. Slower than the last time, no longer fueled by the crippling frenzy of desperation to feel each other and excitement over finding a stolen moment. No rush as Rhett's arms curl around your waist, drawing you in until your chests bump together.

"Y' weren't kiddin' 'bout bein' cold, were you," he observes aloud, voice rumbling against your lips. Big hands smooth up and down the back of your dress, like he's trying to create a semblance of heat there.

Delicate, he pulls you in. Closer this time. Where your arms can coil around his shoulders, and your frigid nose fits into the scruffy underside of his jaw. For a man who's always complaining about being cold, he sure is warm. The chest against yours feels warmer than the fireplace you were idling in front of earlier, entertaining small talk with some boy in a gaudy blazer that he spent far too much on.

His head tilts, nose bumping into your temple as he nuzzles into you, "'s this better?"

"I hope you plan on gluing yourself to me, cowboy," because you're not letting him go until spring comes back around.

Or at least, not until the frost melts from the joints of your fingers and the tip of your nose doesn't feel so numb.

"Wouldn't mind that," he's pausing to press a kiss to your forehead, then another, can never seem to get enough, "not sure if you'd like bein' out at dawn, chasin' cows through rain n' snow though."

"Who said I'd give you back to your folks?" You can't see it, but you can feel his eyes roll. Both of you know that Royal will come kicking the door in if his youngest isn't at work bright and early, busting his ass for a job that pays less than minimum wage because he's family, but it's fun to imagine.

Just one week alone, in a cozy home, cuddling through movies and bickering as you try to put a dinner together, uninterrupted by the responsibilities of life. It's all you ask for.

Rhett's shoulders shift as he shrugs out of his coat. Unveiling that slightly-too-tight flannel that shrunk in the washer a few Sundays ago, sleeves clinging to the curve of his biceps like they're being paid to do it. Such a fascinating sight that you hardly notice the sudden warmth wrapping around you.

"But now you're gonna be cold," your protest is weak, thwarted by the flutter of butterflies in your belly. His coat is so warm, fitting around your shoulders just right, and freshly scented with his favorite cologne—the woodsy one with the scent of autumn crammed into a bottle.

"'s alright," it may be dim in this barn, but it's so easy to catch the way his cheeks have flushed pink, a little too eager to see you in his jacket. "I got somethin' that'll warm us up."

Before you can even begin to ask what that could be, he's stepping off toward his truck. Hinges squeal as he opens the driver-side door, one of its many, many signs of age. It's a miracle the old thing even runs, considering its rough life as a ranch truck. Still clinging to its last bits of life, too stubborn to go just yet.

"I found this at a yard sale the other day," Rhett grunts, lifting something gray out of the passenger seat. Square, with a big antenna that reminds you of...

"How is a radio gonna keep us warm?" Your head tilts to the side, since when did he own a radio, anyway?

"You'll see." There's a long, dangling cord that Rhett's coiling in his free hand as he hauls it over to the outlet. The one on the workbench you've been using as home to your laptop as of late, where the Wi-Fi connection is the weakest. A small price to pay to watch movies together without needing to worry about sneaking into each other's homes.

"Only downside is, the damn thing ate my Eric Church CD," the end of his sentence disrupted by his own laughter, "'s what I get for buyin' yard sale radios."

As he says that, the radio flickers to life, the coarse sound of static rumbling through the air as he fumbles with the buttons. A little unfamiliar with the layout of this old machine, dented and splattered in hot pink paint.

Music erupts from the speakers. Looping through the same three seconds of a lyric that you can't quite hear. Then dies into silence just as quickly. A familiar song wavers through the air, growing louder as Rhett messes with the dial.

You still don't get what he's on about. "Springsteen?" How is an Eric Church song going to warm you two up? Catch fire?

The track loops, the intro catching on a new scratch in the CD. You've heard him play this CD enough times to know it's never skipped in this song until now.

But then Rhett's holding his hand out, grin so wide that his eyes curl with it, "c'mon," he breathes, his voice light as an autumn leaf, "dance with me."

You know better than anyone that Rhett Abbott cannot dance. Yet, you're slipping your palm into his, letting him sweep you into a lazy spin that flares out the ends of your dress. Your silhouette picture perfect on the barn floor as the song finally starts to play.

"This is your idea of warming up, huh?" You giggle, accidentally stepping nose to nose with each other, then stepping a bit too far apart. Eager to be close but afraid to step on each other's toes. Carefully turning and moving with no real rhythm, just doing whatever feels right in that given second.

"Remembered that video y' sent me, 'bout that couple dancin' n' all," funny, how he remembers that because you can hardly recall when you sent it to him. What other ideas has he been storing up in that pretty head of his? "Couldn't figure out how t' get a beach in a barn."

Now you're finding your pacing, something slow that lets him nudge your foreheads together. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders like they belong there. The ruggedness of his jacket an uncanny contrast against the soft, delicate material of your dress. A mashing of two styles that would send many of your visitors into a tizzy. But God, it's so warm. Like a second Rhett, curled around your body to keep you safe from the nip of the wind.

It's no romantic sunset dance on a white sand beach, but it's better than it has any right to be. Because your bodies bump together with all the clumsiness of two people who don't know what they're doing, and you're starting to drift across the barn, but it's you, and it's him, and it's so...

Enchanting. Perfect. A daydream that has slipped from your head and into the thin blanket of reality. The kind of scene that can be shoved into a snow globe and sold to every tourist who wanders into Wabang.

"Thinkin 'bout somethin'?" He asks, but those eyes suggest he can hear the gears turning in your head, just might be able to read all the wandering thoughts floating past.

"Wondering what they'd say if someone walked in on us, right now," the wayward wondering slips right past your lips, unable to be held back.

Humming, Rhett's head tilts, "s'pose someone would faint," he says, with all the confidence of a man who has seen it happen before, "can't have the big, bad cowboy muddyin' up the prettiest thing in town, now can they?"

"Something tells me you'd enjoy that," you can already see it, the devilish grin as everyone at the party realizes that you're taken after all. Heart stolen by the bull rider they see every Sunday at the rodeo.

"If it means showin' everyone who ya belong to, then—" spurs clank together. One moment, he's there. The next he's gone. Hat bouncing off his head as his ass meets the concrete barn floor. Mere inches away from the start of the gravel driveway.

Big blue eyes blink up at you. Cheeks flushing with crimson as he braces his palms on the ground behind him, leaning back like he meant to do that all along.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Struggling to speak around your grin, you bend to pick up his hat by the crown.

Rhett's silent. Mouth agape as he continues to blink at you, gaze akin to that of a baby deer. And maybe he would be able to talk if you weren't setting his hat atop your head. Have to be careful, it's so big that it'll fall over your eyes if you move too quickly.

But it stays in place, even as you kneel, settling into his open lap. Knees straddling his hips, nose to nose once more. "Showing everyone who I belong to, hm?"

This. This is what you've been missing. The awkward wobble of Rhett's bottom lip as he struggles for words. Overtaken by the sight of you in his clothes, the soft fingers caressing his jaw, and the hand delving into his messy hair. So confident until he's not.

"Uhuh," he breathes, dumbly.

You don't know who moves first. If it's you who dives down or if it's him surging up, but your lips are meeting, and that stupid Eric Church CD is beginning to skip around again. The glitchy repetition of the song an illustration of the way your brain shorts out, set off by the arms circling around you.

Kissing him before was soft, delicate. This one...this kiss is something warmer. A lick of a flame that you recognize all too well, the kind that promises more to come. His hands roaming beneath his jacket and up your back, the scruff of his jaw tickling your chin. Maybe it's the cold that makes you cling to him, maybe it's the way your head is starting to spin, you cant say for sure, but you can't get close enough.

His soft mouth glides against your own, groans at the way you nip at his lower lip. He knows what you want. You know what you want. And yet, you're surprised by the way his tongue darts out to lap at yours, a bolt of electricity firing down your spine. Sloppily tangling, spit slicking your lips, parting just for the sake of meeting each other again.

Strong hips roll upward, growing bulge nudging between your legs. The rough material of his jeans a wicked sensation against your core.

Blindly, you reach for one of his hands, drawing it between your bodies. And for a moment, you part, panting for a breath you can't catch, eager to focus on his handsome face as you guide him beneath your dress.

His eyelashes flutter. Rough fingertips dip between your dripping folds. "How long you ain't had those on?"

"Since you texted and said you were coming to get me," and there's more to that statement of yours. Ramblings about how you'd intended to part your legs and give him a view when he was flagging you down through the window. But he's bringing his glistening fingers to his lips, and your brain has effectively gone silent.

All of a sudden, it's too hot in this jacket of his. The wind isn't chilly enough to bite back the wildfire blazing across your skin.

Everything moves so fast. One moment, you're in his lap, and the next, your chest is against the hood of his truck, knees knocking together as his calloused palms slide up your inner thighs. Feeling their way up to the curve of your ass, squeezing greedy handfuls.

"Fuckin look at you," he hisses under his breath, and you just know he's leaning back to capture the full picture.

Impatient, you wiggle back into him, whining, "hurry up."

Rhett doesn't need to be told twice. Gaudy, oversized belt buckle jingling as he pops it open and yanks down his zipper. Music to your ears, even with the jumpy radio still droning in the background. That poor CD is so close to reaching its final resting place, but it's not quite there yet.

A familiar hardness nudges between your thighs. So hot against your chilly thighs that it almost burns. His leaking tip slips through your folds, rubbing past your entrance in favor of grazing your clit. A perfect glide that has you biting into the side of your palm to keep quiet. Only sickened by the packet of lube he's pouring onto himself, using your cunt to spread it across himself. Lazily fucking himself against your sex without much effort.

"Can't believe you're out here lettin' me do this," he grunts, blunt head catching, beginning to nudge into you, "what're ya fixin' to do if one of them folks comes lookin' for ya, hm?"

Blunt nails trail up your exposed thighs, a light tickling that has you unintentionally jerking back against him, that thick tip slipping into you without warning. So suddenly full of him that you gasp, head dropping down to rest against your forearms.

Rhett's still talking, eating away the silence as he takes hold of your hips, holding you still while he pushes into you. "What're ya gonna do if you get caught with a ranch hand balls deep in your sweet lil pussy?"

"And how do you plan on dealing with the whole town knowing about your sex life?" Your voice strained, wound too tight by the thick length that's splitting you oh so wide. Don't think you'll ever grow used to how he drags against your walls, such a simple sensation that sends a tremor into your legs.

"Don't mind it," inhaling sharply through his nose, Rhett bends down, his warm chest pressing against your shoulders, "long as they know you're mine."

Kisses pepper against the side of your neck, where a thin sheen of sweat has already begun to collect. A vague distraction from the way his hips press against your ass, skin flush together. You've taken him to the hilt, can barely understand how you've done so, and yet he's still pushing impossibly deeper. Urging every last millimeter of his cock into you, just to hear you grunt, your hand pawing at the slick hood of his truck.

"Rhett..." you whisper, aren't quite sure if it's meant to be a warning or a whimper. Maybe both.

"Y' can take it," his breath tickles your skin as his nose bumps its way up your neck, not stopping until he can graze his teeth against the shell of your ear, "know ya can, sweetheart."

In the back of your head, you know he's right; you've done this more times than you can count, but every time, you can't help but wonder if it'll be your last. Split wide open on his cock, until you're aching from the stretch of him, so full that you can focus on nothing else.

You've never been so thankful to be pressed up against the hood of a GMC Sierra, the cool metal a welcome relief to your overheated cheek. Makes it a little easier to look over your shoulder to steal a glance at your cowboy with his half-unbuttoned shirt and half-lidded eyes.

With a deep breath, you open your mouth again, "move."

A breathy laugh fans out against your ear, so amused by your request and so eager to fulfill it. A gust of wind breezes past as he gingerly draws his hips away. Cock sliding out of you a little under halfway, only to ease back in with the same carefulness as the first time.

His balls bump against your clit on his next push inward. A soft tap of attention that has you squirming back into him, fluttering around his cock like a butterfly. And you know he can feel it because he sucks in an audible breath, the only thing he can do to keep himself from swearing out loud. Twitches into you a little too hard, rocking your body up against the truck, balls slapping against that throbbing little button again and—

A whimper tears its way out of your throat.

"Like that?" Rhett's leaning back, big hands settling on either side of your hips like a warning, "y' wantin' me to be rough with you, darlin'?"

You don't know what you want. So long as he keeps doing this. Working up a pace that rocks your bodies into the truck, the only noises in the air are the soft patter of skin on skin, the gravel shifting beneath your feet, and the soft grunts falling off Rhett's tongue. Barely there noises meant for your ears only.

"Wish you could see yourself," Rhett's muttering, his free hand smoothing across your exposed backside and beneath your dress, feeling its way up your spine, "pr'ty lil ass in the moonlight like this."

Those wicked hips slam into your ass, pushing you forward and up onto your tip-toes; metal squeals as your clammy palms scramble across the truck's hood, searching for purchase.

"Rhett!" You all but yelp. Can't do a goddamn thing but take every bit of him, spasming around him as he drives right into that little bundle of nerves, plush tip kissing it on every pass over.

There's no way someone won't hear you if they open the front door. Will recognize the rocking of the truck and know exactly what it is that you're up to. Bending over for your beloved ranch hand instead of getting close with one of the Tillersons or their equally well-off associates. Desperate for the devilish smack of Rhett's balls against your clit, can no longer think of the elusive opportunities that come with pretending to like someone with more money than the entirety of Wabang combined.

All you can think of is this. The sensation of Rhett's unshaven jaw grazing against your collar as he bends down to press warm kisses to the underside of your jaw. How your dripping sex squelches with his every thrust.

"Lookin' so innocent in your little party dress," Rhett's murmuring into your ear, him and his dizzyingly deep voice. So up close and all over that he floods your senses, mind cluttered with Rhett, Rhett, Rhett. "Gettin' roughed up by a cowboy while all them snobs in there wonder where you're at."

You fear you've forgotten how to speak because your lips are moving, but nothing is coming out. Mind growing foggier with every collision of his body up against yours, whimpering high in your throat. Oh, you've missed this.

"Ought to cum in this tiny lil pussy of yours," his voice vibrates down your spine, sends your skin prickling, "pump y' nice 'n full of me 'n make ya walk right back in that party with my cum runnin' down your thighs."

It wouldn't be the first time he's paraded you through a crowd; your thighs squeezed together as you try to keep yourself from falling apart at the seams. Forced to grin and pretend that you can't feel the way he's spilling out of you.

And you're already so full of him, a plume of heat just beginning to spark where his thick cock disappears inside you. Bodies tangled together so hopelessly that neither of you can figure out who starts and ends where. Only worsened by the hand that tilts your head to the side, your mouth weakly meeting his swollen lips. You can hardly hold the kiss for more than a second, broken apart by how he jerks into you.

"Do y' want that, hm?" He's still talking; fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he still talking? Cooing those sweet words into your ear, a spell that you have no hope of resisting. "Waddlin' 'round your own house, actin' like you didn't just get fucked nice 'n good."

You don't know where you're finding the strength to push back against him. Feet scrambling for purchase in the loose gravel, trying to meet the unrelenting slam of his hips. A futile attempt at getting more that gives him the space to reach down between your legs, coarse fingertips dancing around your swollen clit.

"Fuck, Rhett—!" Your choked cry is anything but quiet, echoing through the dark blanket of the night and carrying its way up to the stars. The same ones that twinkle behind your eyelids, growing brighter with every plunge of his cock, and the massage of his fingers against your clit. Working over and over and over.

Rhett's cheek bumps into your shoulder, his body curving to fit against yours until there's not an inch of space left between your bodies. "Or would y' rather me carry you in and let 'em all see who y' belong to?"

Oh, oh, oh. You can already hear the dramatic gasp of your visitors, the shattering of the steep expectations they've held for you.

But that's only if they don't catch you first, and the noises whittling out of your throat do nothing to help your case. Unable to shut your mouth, dissolving into a limp mess against Rhett's ranch truck. No better than a warm doll, clinging to the remnants of your control while he fucks you. Rhythm falling apart, chasing the same high that's making your head spin, heat washing across your body.

"C'mon, sweet thing," Rhett's voice wavers, sweat dripping from his trembling jaw and landing on your shoulder. "Where do y' want it?"

He'll pull out if you want him to, has so many times before, but you're already babbling, mouth struggling to wrap around the words, "inside, inside, Rhett—hah."

And he doesn't need to be told twice. The weight of his body growing heavier as he settles against you in earnest now, unafraid of not being able to pull himself away in time. Working into your spasming pussy like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do. The underside of his cock rubbing into that sweet collection of nerves, never once losing contact.

There's a shake in his arms, and it's starting to match the trembling in your thighs, his breath quickening in tune with yours, those deep groans like music to your ears. No longer able to keep himself quiet, weak fingers still working your clit with what strength he's got left. You're right there, you're right there, you're right—

Rhett's forearm muffles the cry that leaves you.

For a moment, your mind is blank. Only dimly aware of the rhythmic spasm of your pussy as Rhett's hips stall, cock twitching as a familiar head spreads inside you. A whine tumbles off someone's lips, might be yours, might be his; you can't fucking tell anymore. Ears washed over with a dull ringing as that heat eats you up from the inside out.

What strength remains in your body begins to dissolve. Your head is still spinning up with the stars when your knees give out from beneath you. But your knees don't hit the ground, instead held up by a nondescript body—Rhett's, you think, pinning you to the truck.

It's the ache in your jaw that brings you back to the real world. Eyes fluttering open as you pull your mouth away from Rhett's forearm, an outline of teeth imprinted over the thick vein that runs through it.

"Y' bit me," he chuckles into your ear, "ain't never done that one before."

You don't know when your dominant arm got trapped between your stomach and the truck, but a portion of the GMC logo has been imprinted on your skin. A temporary brand, only takes one look for it to reveal your recent rendezvous, shows itself off as you paw at the metal hood, struggling to regain your bearings.

On its own, Rhett's spent cock slips out of you, and already you can feel the cum spilling down your thighs.

"I'm gonna be so sore in the morning," you'd sound more dramatic if you weren't caught in the midst of a yawn, "how am I supposed to get up to my room without anyone noticing me waddling like a damn penguin?"

Rhett's warm nose nuzzles against your cheek, and you can't see it, but you can feel his smile. "I'll kiss it better if that's what you're wantin'."

Certainly wasn't an idea that was on your list, but you don't mind the idea of that.

Your legs sway as you push yourself off the side of the truck, leaves you stumbling into Rhett's big, sweaty chest. And you're so, so fortunate that he's quick to react, big arms coiling around you and securing you to him because you know your ass would be hitting the gravel otherwise.

"At first, I was kiddin' 'bout carryin' you inside," he chuckles, nothing but smiles as he presses a kiss to your temple, "but now I think 'm gonna have to."

"Or," holding up your finger, "you could not take me inside."

He's leaning back, just enough to get a glimpse of your face, crushed up against his shoulder, "'n here I thought you wanted to go back in."

"I do," on their own accord, your arms rise to circle his waist, grabbing greedy handfuls of his flannel. "But I don't wanna leave you."

Because going inside means that you have to leave your boyfriend out in the cold, forced to remain out of sight and far away from the families who aren't so fond of the Abbotts. Old rivalries in a cattle industry that only Rhett's family remains in, forever unable to acquire the same wealth as the others did. As yours did.

But sleeping beneath the moonlight or in the barn isn't feasible. The temperature has only begun to plummet; body heat alone isn't enough to protect against autumn Wyoming nights.

If only the numbers in Rhett's bank account were big enough to buy the respect of the assholes spilling wine on the freshly cleaned carpet of your living room. Carelessly wasting a drink that costs more than this old GMC Sierra, modifications included.

"What if..." he's thinking aloud, gears visibly twisting and turning in his pretty head, "I take ya to that hotel outta town? The one with the theater next door."

"Well, if you let me get my wallet—"

"Naw," Rhett's cutting you off before your sentence can be finished, already knows where the conversation is headed, "you let me worry 'bout that."

All these people at your home, with their needlessly expensive items and mile-deep pockets, and yet it's your blue-collar, run-of-the-mill cowboy who is the least concerned about money. Even when he's got every reason in the book to worry about the numbers in his bank account and the unnecessary expense of a nice hotel.

"Sound alright?" His nose bumps against your cheek, tickling.

"That's more than alright," on their own, the corners of your lips rise into a smile. Your eyes dart toward the barn doors, can already hear that same Eric Church track starting up again. Funny how you now have a memory to go with a song about a memory. "But maybe you should shut off that radio first."

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #oneshot #rhett abbott smut #outer range #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #x reader

278 notes · View notes

nervousgardenerkid · 2 years

Note

yello could u do an eddie munson x reader where the reader struggles w selective mutism (becoming mute/being unable to speak in some situations usually because of bad anxiety, or at least in my own experience) and usually communicates through little notes but feels real bad bc they don’t want eddie to be disappointed and he comforts them and says it’s ok bc he loves them anyway

pls i’m having big sad rn and i think that would be so adorable, also considering that selective mutism and stuff like that is v rarely seen in media/fanfics lol, it would be a big win for us

ty <333

a/n: i hope i got to this in time anon! i'm sorry you're feeling sad rn :( i tried to do my best with it cause personally i have no idea what it's like but as someone with anxiety i understand a bit! I hope you like it :D credit to the gif owner!

Notes to you

Blue skies in, grey clouds out. Blue skies in, grey clouds out. You thought to yourself. You weren't sure what was in the air today but school seemed so much more packed when it came to basketball games. Maybe school spirit was more alive in the students thus causing them to be louder and more obnoxious than usual. Or maybe the universe decided to give you the middle finger and held a pep rally. Either way, you weren't the biggest fan of it.

Your hands start to grab at the straps of your backpack and you try not to cry when the kid next to you gets pushed into you. You just want to go home, you don't even want to spend the rest of the day in school. Your eyes frantically search the flooded hall looking for a familiar face, but so far no luck. I could leave now you think to yourself. Home isn't that far from school and I'll be okay if I miss a day of school. You turn around and try and make your way toward the school exit when finally, you see him.

Relief washes over your body and you push your way through the crowd and grab onto his jacket as soon as he's within arms reach. Eddie quickly turns you thinking you were a bully but smiles when he sees it's you.

“Hey, there sweetheart, where are you off to?”

You open your mouth trying to get the words out but you're stuck. Your brain goes blank and you struggle to think of the words you want to say. You look around the halls trying to find something to focus on but everything is too bright and too loud. Eddie notices the panicked look in your eyes and turns Dustin around to reach into his backpack.

“Hey! You can't just go digging in there-”

“Can it Henderson.”

“Yes sir.”

Eddie pulls out his notebook and rips off a page before stuffing the notebook back in and searching for a pen.

“Man, I had a whole system in there.”

“I'll let you sit on my throne for ten seconds if you stop talking.”

“Done.”

Eddie let out a small “ah ha!” when he found a pen. He holds onto your hand tightly and starts to lead you out of the school screaming for students to get out of his way. Once you're out of the school you take a deep breath, it doesn't help as much as you would've liked it to but it's better than being surrounded by warms of people. Before you know it, Eddie has you standing in front of his van the paper on the hood of his car, and he places the pen in your hand.

“What's going on in your pretty little head?” he asks you softly.

You take a deep breath feeling the pen in your hand as you try and call down. Your hand is shaky as you write.

I hate basketball games.

He let out a hum. “Me too, way too many people. Do you want to go to the library? It's nice and quiet in there.”

It's locked. Even the librarian has more school spirit than me.

Eddie chuckles and leans against the van smiling at you.

You can go back in, I was just going to walk home.

“Pft. Walk home, yeah right. No way I'm letting you walk home in this horrible heat.”

You glance at him and smile.

You didn't have to let Dustin sit on your throne for me.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders. “It's not a problem. Plus, I kinda ruined his whole backpack system or whatever he has going on in there.”

Ruined. Dustin's bag was ruined because of you. The whole system he made up is ruined all because Eddie had to scramble to get a piece of paper for you. Your breathing began to pick up again and you closed your eyes trying to take deep breaths. Eddie stands straight again stands nearby.

“What do you need sweetheart? How can I help you?”

The words are on the tip of your tongue but you can't get them out no matter how hard you're trying to.

“Hey, hey listen to me,” he says softly. “One tap for yes.” He taps on his van once. “Two taps for no. Sound good to you?”

You click the pen twice instead of tapping on the car. Eddie nods his head saying he can work with that.

“Can I touch you? Is that okay?”

Click.

He wraps his arms around you.

“You want me to hold you tighter?”

Click.

His arms squeeze you tight enough for you to start grounding yourself. You take a deep breath catching the scent of Eddie's cologne. Your hand wrapped around the back of his shirt feeling the material beneath your fingertips. The cotton was soft, yet worn out. You could tell it was one of his favorites. You started to calm down when you heard his sweet voice reassuring you that everything is okay and that you're gonna be okay.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper to him.

He pulls away from you and wipes away at the stray tear that fell down your face.

“For what?”

You shake your head. What were you sorry for? You didn't do anything bad, Eddie was just trying to be a good boyfriend and help.

“I don't know.”

tears are streaming down your face and Eddie pulls you in for another hug. His hand is gently scratching at your scalp and he's swaying you both back and forth while gently rushing you.

“You didn't do anything wrong. I promise you didn't, okay?”

You nod your head choosing to believe him as you take a shaky breath. You know better than to ask this, but sometimes the reassurance helps more than you think it would.

You gently pull away from him and turn your body back toward the van. You grab the piece of paper, fold it in half, then click the pen getting ready to write your question out.

You still love me?

Eddie grabs the pen from your hand, he clicks it a few times pretending to think of his answer. He messily writes down his answer and slides the note back to you hiding his smile behind his hair.

Always. :)

#i really hope you like this😭#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x gn!reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things angst

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chaotic-on-main · 9 months

Note

Hi Sky! I was so excited to see you’re having an event. Congrats for the 250 followers!

I’d like a matcha with cookie crumbles (Levi hurt/comfort). My mother passed away this time four years ago, and it’s always a hard time for me. I was hoping you could write something with Levi helping me through, or maybe us helping each other, since we’ve both experienced that loss.

Thanks!✨💗

Order up!! One matcha with cookie crumbles for Sailor!!

Sky's Summer and 250 Follower Event!

☾ Pairings ➼ Levi Ackerman x gn!Reader

☾ Content/Warnings ➼ hurt/comfort, implied (best?) friends to lovers, parent death mentions, grief

☾ Author's Note ➼ Hi Sailor!! Thank you so much for sending in a request! Sorry it took me some time to get to it though. I was struggling a bit as I have a hard time connecting with this kind of grief. But I think my little sad one-shot about Levi dying opened the floodgates for me so to speak lol. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom, I can't even imagine. I hope this brings you some comfort. <3

Oh shit I forgot to credit @humanitys-strongest-bamf for helping me with the text message convo! Big thanks to her!! Sorry for fucking up your AI tho :c

☾ Word Count ➼ ~1.2k

Sleep doesn’t come easily to you the way it did a month ago. It’s nothing you’re surprised about though; this was normal for this time of year – as it always had been the past 4 years. At this point, it felt as if your body internalized a clock specifically for the month of June. And you hated it.

You find yourself staring up at the dark ceiling. The streetlight right outside your window filters in through your curtains and hits against the wall to the left of you, lighting the room up in a yellowish-orange hue. When you turn your head to the side, you see the clock on the nightstand that reads 1:19 AM in bright red numbers. A car drives past the window, headlights glaring into your room momentarily before driving off into the night.

With a huff, you roll over to your side and grab the cellphone that sits on the side table, unplugged with the charging cable missing. When you click the side button, your eyes squint from the sudden brightness.

A few notifications occupy half the screen, all from the various social media apps that currently sit idle in the background. None of them substantial enough to warrant your attention, of course. No, the reason you grabbed your phone is to message the one number that belonged to the one person you knew would be up at such a late time.

Your ringtone goes off suddenly, the loud noise causing you to flinch. Levi’s caller ID pops up along with the picture you had chosen without his consent – his face half hidden in a rain jacket hood as he looks over to you. It was from a day a couple of months ago when you both got left at a bus stop and had to find your way back home. It was a snapshot from one of your favorite days with him.

You tap the green icon and press the phone up against your ear as you sit up in bed.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He says back, his flat tone flowing through his mouthpiece and right into your ear. The calm that comes with Levi washes over you instantly.

“You didn’t have to call.” You scoot back to lean against your headboard as you stare ahead into your room. It’s small and decorated minimally. Mainly because you barely spend much time here to begin with, generally opting to stay in your very personalized office a couple doors down.

“You sound like you need company. Want me to come over?”

“No!” You say quickly as well as a little louder than intended. You clear your throat before continuing, “No. No it’s okay. This is fine. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“If you didn’t want to trouble me, you wouldn’t have texted.” A hint of playful sarcasm slips into his deep voice.

“I- yeah. Again, that’s fair.”

Silence falls upon the room. It’s never uncomfortable for you two. Being friends for years comes with perks like that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He mumbles from the other side. There’s a slight rustling from his end before it stops and all you hear is his soft breathing.

“I don’t know if there's anything else you don’t know.”

“No, but sometimes it helps to talk.” That makes you purse your lips. Raindrops hit your bedroom window, soft but loud enough to reverberate through the room. You don’t recall rain being in the forecast, but that’s summer you suppose. Random thunderstorms at 1:30 in the morning.

“I’m just really frustrated with myself.” You huff out eventually.

You pick at the soft throw that sits on top of your plush comforter. It was a gift from Levi a couple years ago from his own apartment. You said you liked it so much and would claim it every time you all had your weekly group hangouts at his place. He cut out the middleman and gifted it to you. You never struck up the courage to tell him you liked it so much because it smelled of him and it was ironed just right.

“What about this time?”

“I just- it’s been years and my body still won’t let me sleep during this time of year. Once the months turn warm, it’s like I’m not allowed rest. When is this supposed to get easier?” You mutter softly. The rain starts coming down harder, painting your window with rainfall. The yellow glow from the streetlight turns hazy and adds an interesting effect against your wall.

“Grief is funny like that.” Levi mutters back.

“Funny?” You raise an eyebrow; not like he could see it.

“Yes, funny. It’s different for everyone. But one thing stays the same and it’s that even though it may feel like it’s disappearing, it will always come back when you least expect it.”

“What does it mean when I’m expecting it though?”

“That just makes you weird, I guess.” Levi jokes back dryly, though you hear a hint of a smile on the other side, so you know he’s not being serious.

“Your mom meant a lot to you. She was your best friend. Pain like this takes a long time to heal from, you just need to be patient with yourself.”

“Levi… how long did it take you to… you know. When your mom passed?”

There’s silence besides the soft breathing coming from Levi’s end.

“Longer than I’d like, but eventually there came a day where it didn’t hit as hard. I woke up one day and suddenly, thinking about her didn’t ache as much. It worried me at first, actually.” He mumbles.

“Why?” Your eyes drift back over to the window. A distant roll of thunder sounds off.

“It made me feel like a bad son.” He clicks his tongue. A habit he does when annoyed.

“That’s so silly, Levi. You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, well. It still made me feel like I didn’t love her as much as before. I couldn’t stop thinking I wasn’t as upset because I was moving on from her.”

A soft sigh.

“I realized it was because I had grown to accept her passing. And in truth, I love her even more from it. Every sad thought of her being gone is replaced with the memories I have of her. That will happen to you one day. You’ll wake up and suddenly it won’t hurt as bad.”

“You think so?” You mumble. You don’t notice the tears dripping from your chin onto the soft shirt you were ‘sleeping’ in. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you sniffle as you tuck yourself into your blankets a little more. “Thanks, Levi.”

Instead of a response from Levi, you hear a rattle of keys as well as the closing of a door through the speaker.

“What are you doing?” You bolt upright, your sheets flipping over from the force of your body.

“I’m on my way to you. You said you bought a new tin of tea that I want to try. I’ll see you soon.” He says quickly before clicking off the line. You pull the phone away from your ear and stare down at Levi’s contact screen.

Tea, huh?

#sky's summer event #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #asks #answered #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #x reader #hurt/comfort #cw death

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steviespanties · 2 years

Note

S2, that showdown at the Byers, except Billy is a little less wound up and Steve is a little more wound up.

Steve is still kinda bitter about Nancy but only in a "we're over but we still need to talk for that closure" kind of way because they did actually break up when Nancy admitted she didnt love him. But Steve still feels he deserves an explanation for the whole "you're bullshit" thing.

But then there's Billy, who flirts with him, and riles him up, and who gave him that absolutely filthy look while they were both naked. And Steve Wants. Cos Billy has been taunting him for what feels like weeks, and then that whole thing in the shower, and his tongue????

Devastating.

And now he's here, wearing that shirt and flirting and his stupid tongue still isnt in his mouth and Steve's got adrenaline pumping from the fighting and the running and the protecting.

And he could just throw a punch or deny Max is here and that would technically help them. But Steve doesnt want to hurt Billy, doesnt want to punch him, Steve wants to get Railed.

All of this culminates in Steve just backing Billy up towards his car before kissing the absolute life out of him.

And Billy is initially like "what the fuck" but also this is his pretty boy who he has been trying to get with since he rolled into this shitty town so yeah fuck everything else lets do this.

Billy flips them, they have the messiest make out session of potentially all time right on the hood of Billy's Camaro. Which is absolutely doing things for both of them.

Unfortunately they dont have time to get any further because then they have the whole "monsters are real lets go set some on fire" conversation.

But then after they drag themselves out of the burning tunnels and drop the kids back at the Byers' they make their excuse that they are going to get Steve's car. Then they drive out into the woods and Billy takes Steve apart in the backseat of his Camaro.

sdfghj omg I love that, thank you so much Anon!!!!🥰💕💕

They'd be so high on adrenaline and knowing they survived something as terrifying as the tunnels together- and Steve's a hormonal mess, just like Billy, probably hasn't gotten laid in a while since Nancy has been struggling too much.

So he's horny. And here's someone who wants him, who clearly has been flirting with Steve in his stupid, overly aggressive way while practically undressing Steve with his eyes. Steve wants to be wanted. He's still heartsore and desperate for... something. For touch. For affection. For someone who won't fucking lie to him.

Billy Hargrove is not a liar. He's an asshole, sure. He may not say everything that's on his mind.

But he invites Steve on a ride once they've dropped off the kids. Looks at Steve like he's seizing him up, not quite certain of how Steve will react when he offers "let's pick things up where we left off, huh?"

It's a tempting offer. Who is Steve to resist? He jumps into Billy's car. Lets warm hands grab his jacket and drag him to the backseat, the strength of another guy manhandling him a shocking, unexpected thrill that get him hard so fast he gets a bit dizzy.

Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen from making out with Billy. Again.

Because Billy Hargrove, as he's already discovered, is very good with his mouth. Even better with his hands, when they hungrily roam over Steve's body- first through fabric, then right on his skin and then lube-slick inside him.

oh god oh god oh god, is all Steve's mind can chant by that point. He's so loose. So stretched out already. Overwhelmed with the way Billy has gone sweat-slick and flushed and beautiful between his legs, muttering how he can't believe Steve is letting him do this. Cock thick and hard between his thighs, promising to fill Steve up even more.

It's a different sort of excitement, the moments leading up to Billy pushing into him. Their breaths mingle. The head pops in. Steve whimpers. Billy pushes forward in slow, unrelenting movement and moans low and drawn out. It's enough to drive a guy crazy, turn him wild and clawing and high on pleasure that's hard to comprehend. It's perfect.

#harringrove #asks #i like the idea of steve feeling guilty for 'using' billy at first #but neither of them is in love at this point and billy is TOTALLY not smitten with the heartbroken pretty boi of his dreams #anyways they totally fuck again and start hanging out and falling in love like complete idiots<333

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batsclass101-blog · 10 months

Text

Dead People Book Club - Part 2

Gotham’s cycles of life remained the same. That was Jason Todd-Wayne’s initial observation after returning to life. The fight for survival and the struggle between good and evil was ever present. It was both comforting and disconcerting to note that he had become a true embodiment of Gotham. A survivalist given the hope of life only to be snuffed out...and then resurrected.

Jason was a survivor long before getting dunked in a Lazarus Pit. He snorted at the irony of his resurrection as he tossed on a t-shirt, jeans and his favorite leather Jacket. He’d spent enough time resurrected, but only a few of those had been establishing his name as Hood. Still, he wasn’t sure he was glad to be back. The angry haze that he lived in most days made fond memories of the past blur. His persona as the Red Hood allowed him some relief from the way his thoughts twisted. It wasn’t much but it was a small relief.

Somedays he wasn’t sure if his family was really glad he was back. A trick of the pit, Dick would say. But life hadn’t stopped for anyone. He glanced in the mirror suddenly overcome with melancholia. Last week there’d been a public announcement of his return, but he’d yet faced any “friends” from his past. It stung to think that no one cared.

‘You were Robin. You’re the Red Hood, Jason. You don’t need “friends.’ He shook his head and mussed his hair before grabbing his keys. Getting caught up in his head wouldn’t do anyone any good. The day was young and he had errands to run before he was due to the manor for dinner. Things were still a bit rocky with his family, but it wouldn’t help to let the anger simmer long. Life goes on and so did Jason Todd.

_________

“That can’t be him...”

Hero felt her eyes water as she clutched her groceries closer. She stared at the back of the familiar figure as it moved steadily forward. The walk was familiar...the hair and set of those shoulders. She was so intent on solving the puzzle that she didn’t even notice when she began walking. Soon enough the walking turned into running. Maybe it was just her mind, but she so desperately missed her sort-of-friend, she had to be sure.

“Jason!” The name flew from her lips a bit louder than intended.

Quicker than she could blink, the figure whipped around, and she dropped her groceries. It was him! Her gallon of milk exploded, and she grimaced as eggs oozed out of a bag.

“Villain Origin story complete...” Hero muttered as she squatted and hurriedly scraped items into her bag.

“And you are?” Jason frowned as he crouched down to help. His shoulders were tense with wariness, but he wasn’t one to be rude to cute girls. He tucked a can of beans into a bag and glanced at the girl... long brown hair, hazel eyes, dimples, and olive skin. She seemed almost familiar.

“We went to Gotham Academy together. Octavia Kingsley?” A laugh escaped Hero as she finished retrieving her food. “I went by my middle name in Book Club. Parents were obsessed with Shakespeare. I heard you’d been kidnapped. I thought you... I’m really glad you’re ok! You look really good.”

Hero wanted to slap herself as soon as the last sentence left her mouth. ‘You look really good.’ She could feel the flush creeping up her neck. Jason was staring at her slightly as if she’d grown a second head. ‘Great. Now he thinks you’re weirder than he thought you were in school.’

“Our last meeting was... at the park near school. And the book was Tess of the D'urbervilles. We discussed it and...I think our next choice was The Trial by Franz Kafka. When you di...” She almost said died but thought better. “When you disappeared, I went ahead and read it for us both.”

“Shakespeare!” A sudden smile broke through Jason’s dumbfounded stare. “Yeah. I remember you now! We did finish Tess and decided to move onto Kafka’s book. Despite the snobs.”

He felt himself grinning. It’d been a while since he’d talked books with anyone...since before he died actually. Something warm wrapped around his heart. Shakespeare seemed to have genuinely missed him AND remembered him. She seemed to remember him as a friend, even though they’d been passing acquaintances.

“I thought your butler did all the running for you?” Jason politely grabbed the groceries and sent Hero a smirk.

“Mmmh.” Hero shot Jason a forced smile. “I’m actually attending college so...no butler for now.”

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her new lifestyle, but you didn’t just announce living in Crime Alley. She felt a smile tug at her face as she noted Jason staring.

“You haven’t changed much since I last saw you. Still short.”

“Be quiet. Just because you eat Miracle Grow don’t be looking down on us fun-size creatures!” Hero mockingly waved a fist at Jason. “And I’m not afraid to buy another jug of milk and chuck it at your smug face.”

“Well, you’re more vocal than you used to be,” Jason glanced at his watch and swallowed a groan. “I’d love to keep talking, but unfortunately I’ve been summoned for a family dinner.” Reluctantly he handed Hero her groceries.

“It’s really great to see you again. Maybe we can start up our Book Exchange again.”

It wasn’t a good idea to get close to civilians, but Jason couldn’t help himself. Before he knew it, he was asking for her number and plugging it in.

“I’ll finish Kafka’s book and we can discuss it sometime maybe.” He waved at her lightly before hurrying for his bike. It couldn’t hurt to talk to someone that wasn’t a thug or family.

________________________________________________________________

“Doyle, best day ever! Jason is actually alive! I thought that was some bogus news feed. But no! He’s alive AND he remembered me. Better yet, he asked for my number!” Hero faceplanted on the couch and let out a happy squeal.

“Meoooooow...”

“I’ll feed you, I promise.” Hero mumbled into the pillow. She sighed happily at the thought of discussing books with her old friend.

“MEOW!”

“I hear you,” Hero stood and fed her cat and flipped the TV on. “You know. I used to like him. But that was high school. I’m just happy he remembered me.”

Doyle shot his owner a look that was too human. ‘Sure it was just a crush.’

“You hush. I’m going to watch Colin Firth while I finish my English paper. Pizza should be done by then.” She shook a head at herself...her life was pretty sad if her greatest conversations prior to today had been between her and Doyle.

‘Maybe that will change since Jason is back.’ Hero smiled to herself as she booted up her laptop. One could only hope that her old friendship wasn’t too old to be truly renewed.

___________________________________

Dinner went better than Jason had expected. A dinner with the Wayne family usually held some form of tension, especially with the ever-growing brood. Despite that usual tension Jason had felt surprisingly at ease. For the first time since he’d been resurrected, he felt seen and truly remembered.

Having a very observant family was annoying in the best of situations and infuriating in bad situations. Throughout the meal he’d received various stares and a few snickers from Dick’s direction. He must be smiling too much, quickly he slammed a frown on his face.

“So I’m assuming you need my help on patrol?” Jason threw down his napkin and cracked his knuckles.

“Father and I are able to handle things without--”

“First I want to hear the reason behind Jason actually talking during dinner.” Dick waggled his eyebrows. “Is it a girl? I bet its a girl. Fifty bucks says he got her number!”

Sometimes he really wondered if coming back to Gotham had been a good idea... Maybe there was a nice island he could disappear to?

#jason todd #jasonxoc #friends to lovers #crush #tim drake #bruce wayne #friendship #love #jason todd deserves better

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years

Note

Could you please write Jason and Y/N (Father of Mine Universe) with prompts 48, 31, and maybe 30? could go either way.

Even if you choose not to write this, thanks for creating Father of Mine, it's one of my favorite fics!

Father of Mine

48. Using your body to shield them from attack.

31. Hurriedly checking for their pulse.

30. Performing CPR when they stop breathing.

Jason and Y/N were walking along the water after getting dinner.

Most of the harbors in Gotham were run by one crime lord or another. Which meant that there were very few areas on the water for civilians to enjoy – or feel safe.

But Jason knew of a strip that was under the radar.

There were a few other couples with the same idea. And random groups of kids and teenagers hanging out and messing around.

Jason was relaxed.

That was his first mistake.

Jason had immediately clocked a random middle-aged man who was covered in sweat and was visibly trembling.

Being far too familiar with the sight, Jason assumed the guy was another unfortunate addict.

But then he noticed the man was carrying a backpack.

Jason had all of 5 seconds to realize what was about to happen.

He shielded Y/N with his body while screaming as loud as he could, “Get down!”

Jason knew he couldn’t save everyone, and Y/N would always be his number one priority.

The next second, the bomb exploded.

The impact knocked Jason unconscious.

For how long, he had no idea.

He was disoriented from the explosion, his ears ringing from tinnitus and his vision struggling to focus from the vertigo. Yet, somehow he could still hear the beating of his heart in his eardrums.

People were screaming in pain around him and others were crying as they looked down at their loved ones. Half the harbor was on fire from the explosion. Cement and debris was everywhere. Jason’s hair was grey from it.

He blinked and then panicked.

“Y/N!” Jason screamed when he realized she wasn’t anywhere near him.

He jumped to his feet and whipped around in every direction looking for her.

“Y/N!” He screamed even louder, his throat burning from the effort.

Then he realized when the explosion when off they had been standing next to the railing that blocked off the water. The railing that had now been blasted away and into the harbor.

Jason sprinted to the edge and looked down at the black water below.

Without hesitation, he dove into the depths.

It was almost impossible to see anything.

But just seconds later, he found Y/N unconscious and completely submerged.

Jason had never swam faster in his life.

But when they breached, Y/N didn’t gasp for air.

She was completely unconscious.

Jason’s eyes darted around, trying to find their escape.

By some miracle, there was a rusty ladder that led back up to the pier from the water.

Jason put Y/N’s body over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder, silently praying that the metal didn’t break under their combined weight.

When they reached the top, he gently laid her down and his fingers shot to the pulse point at her neck.

Nothing.

“No, no, no,” Jason mumbled. “Y/N. Come on, baby. You’re not doing this to me.”

He found his Red Hood comm in the pocket of his jacket, and put it to his hear.

“Contact Bruce,” he commanded the AI as he started performing CPR on Y/N.

“What is it?” Bruce answered with slight panic.

Jason had never called him like this before. And therefore Bruce knew immediately something terrible happened.

“Get the fucking jet here right now,” Jason growled.

“What’s happened?” Bruce asked, but it was obvious he was moving around already to leave.

“There was an explosion. She doesn’t have a pulse and she’s not breathing,” it was all Jason was capable of giving him. “Just get the fucking jet here now!”

He didn’t have time to explain more and hung up. And he didn’t have to say Y/N’s name for Bruce know who he was talking about. There was only one woman in Jason’s life that would have him sounding so panicked and desperate.

Jason continued his CPR, fully focused now that he knew Bruce was on the way.

Still nothing.

He did another round of compressions.

Jason’s eyes started watery as his mind began to believe that Y/N wasn’t going to make it.

He wouldn’t survive.

Y/N had changed his life. She made him better, made him good, made him want to worker harder – do literally anything to become the man she deserved and to continue to be deserving of her love.

“Please,” Jason whimpered. “Please don’t leave me.”

But then Y/N’s eyes shot open and she immediately turned over and started coughing up water.

“Holy fuck,” Jason gasped in relief at the sight.

Y/N continued coughing until her throat was scratched and dry.

Jason rubbed her back, trying to comfort her without preventing her body from getting all the water out of her lungs.

After she finished, she was shaking from being freezing cold and from the shock.

Despite him also being wet, Jason put his coat over her shoulders.

“Don’t ever fucking do that to me again,” Jason begged Y/N as he pulled her into his arms.

He kissed the crown of her head and hoped his body heat would be enough to warm her up.

“What happened?” Her voice had never been raspier and it was now quivering.

“A bomb went off. I thought I shielded you from it, but the impact must’ve thrown you into the harbor.”

“I’m OK,” she tried to tell him. But her shaking voice was unconvincing.

Jason wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon.

It was only 5 minutes later that the batplane touched down on what remained of the pier.

Jason looked up to see Dick, Tim, and Damian jump out and immediately start helping the injured.

But Bruce, dressed in his Batman uniform, was walking straight to Jason and Y/N.

“She needs to go to a hospital,” Jason called out when Bruce was a few yards away. “Her heart stopped beating and her lungs took in too much water.”

Jason knew Bruce wouldn’t argue with taking Y/N there immediately.

Bruce was clearly relieved at seeing his daughter alive and conscious. But that didn’t mean she was in the clear. Nearly drowning still had its risks. If her heart stopped beating, she was in danger of brain damage or pneumonia.

“I’ll take her. You help the others,” Bruce ordered as he stepped forward to take Y/N from Jason’s arms.

“Like fucking hell I am,” Jason growled as he stood up with Y/N in his arms.

Bruce was about to fight him on it, but then he met Y/N’s eyes. Her skin was pale and almost had a blue tint to it. She looked so small and vulnerable in Jason’s arms. Not like the strong and grown woman that had first strutted into Wayne Manor.

“I’m not leaving her,” Jason added for good measure.

Bruce finally sighed and nodded. “Take the jet. You know where to go. I’ll meet you there.”

Before Jason could carry her away, Y/N whispered, “What about the others?”

Her eyes tried to look around her boyfriend’s broad shoulders to see the other victims.

“B is going to help them,” Jason gently told her. He even angled his body to block her line of sight. She didn’t need to see any of it.

“We already have ambulance and firemen on the way,” Bruce added, hoping it would convince her further not to worry herself.

There was nothing she could do for them anyway.

Then Bruce locked eyes with Jason. “Go. Get out of here. Take care of her.”

“Always,” Jason muttered quickly before hurrying Y/N to the jet.

————————

Y/N woke up to two low voices clearly having a serious discussion, but trying to keep their voices down.

When she opened her eyes, Y/N realized she was in a hospital room. But it wasn’t just any room. It seemed like a five-star hotel with how fancy it was. It didn’t have that sterile smell or those harsh fluorescent lights that caused headaches.

“It was a turf war,” Bruce told Jason quietly. “Carmine has jurisdiction over the harbor the two of you were at tonight. But Farrelli wanted it for himself. He forced his latest victim to bring the bomb.”

Jason crossed his arms. “So, the guy was dead either way, Farrelli just thought he’d put him to some use before he murdered him.”

Bruce nodded. “And kill five more people with him.”

“Five people died?” Y/N burst out without realizing it.

Both men’s heads whipped in her direction.

“You’re awake,” Jason sighed and immediately rushed to her side.

“What hospital am I at?” She mumbled, looking around again.

“Gotham General,” he told her as he sat on the edge of the bed to face her.

Jason gently grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. But he had no intention of letting it go, keeping a tight hold and rubbing his thumb back and forth across her skin.

Bruce was slower to join them as he walked with his hands in his pant pockets.

“This isn’t Gotham General,” she commented with a suspicious gaze.

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Well, as soon as Bruce arrived, they realized that you’re Gotham royalty by blood, and brought you to a special suite.”

Then Y/N’s eyes slowly moved to her father. “Five people died from the explosion?”

She needed to know. But she also knew that both men would try to protect her from possible survivor’s guilt.

So Bruce just nodded.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, trying to distract her by changing the subject.

“Tired. And my throat is sore,” she admitted with a light shrug.

Then she looked up at Jason and really took him in.

There were dark shadows under his eyes – the eyes that were still a bit bloodshot.

Had he been crying? She hadn’t registered that.

His hair was a mess, probably from drying haphazardly after jumping into the water to save her.

“Are you OK?” She asked.

It would be right on brand for Jason to risk his life saving her, but ignore any and all injures that he’d received from the same life-threatening travesty.

“I’m fine. Always am,” Jason reassured her too quickly.

Bruce chimed in,“We were all just worried about you, Y/N.”

Both men knew her next question was going to be about the well-being of Damian, Dick, and Tim.

“Can we go home?” She asked softly.

Y/N had always hated hospitals. And once her mother got cancer, Y/N absolutely despised them. Now all she had attached to them was bad memories that constantly threatened to trigger her.

“They just need to get a scan back, make sure everything’s good,” Jason tried to comfort her. “Once that’s good, I’ll take you home.”

He knew her distaste for hospitals and was prepared for her to want to escape at the earliest opportunity.

“Scan?” Y/N questioned.

“You didn’t have a pulse,” Bruce explained. “You have a concussion. We need to make sure there was no brain damage or any lasting side effects.”

“Right,” she mumbled, trying not to sound worried.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Jason reassured her as he cupped her cheek.

“Perhaps you should stay at the manor for a few days,” Bruce offered. “You can relax and not be bothered.”

“She can not be bothered in our apartment,” Jason interrupted, giving him side eye.

“Jason…” Y/N warned gently.

She knew the signs of Jason getting worked up. The fire in his eyes was always something Y/N could read – more than anyone else.

Bruce wasn’t offended by Jason’s little snipe. He was used to his temper. But his gaze did turn rather serious.

“Could I talk to you outside for a moment?”

Jason was about to refuse, not wanting to leave Y/N’s side. But he knew that would just most likely lead to an argument. And Y/N didn’t need to hear or see that. She was already exhausted and recovering. The last thing she needed was to witness was her father and boyfriend going at it – especially over her.

So Jason just nodded and stormed out of the room.

The quicker they got this over with, the better.

As soon as the door closed, Jason was sizing Bruce up.

“What exactly is your next move?” Bruce questioned.

“I’m going after Farrelli,” Jason rumbled, as if it was obvious.

No one put Y/N in danger and got away with it. Jason had already come up with a plan on how to seek his revenge.

It was going to be gruesome and dirty, but nothing less than what the bastards deserved.

Bruce clearly had expected this answer. “So do you plan on doing that while you take care of Y/N?” And he tilted his head as he challenged Jason.

“Are you really trying to stop me?”

Bruce took a step forward. “No, Jason. I’m trying to protect you from yourself. You get blinded by vengeance. And I let you get away with it. But now your actions don’t just effect you…they effect her, too.”

Jason blinked.

“Y/N needs you right now. Even though she will act like she doesn’t.” Bruce inhaled. “If you’re going to put revenge over her wellbeing, she should stay at the manor.”

This was a somewhat of a warning – an opportunity for Jason to do the right thing before he could make his mistake.

Jason’s head hung low now. “I can’t let him get away with it. She almost died, Bruce.”

“And he won’t. But we’ll take care of it,” Bruce promised.

Jason thought it about a moment, before he finally nodded slowly. “I think the manor would be good. But I won’t leave her.”

“I never said you had to,” Bruce corrected.

Jason nodded again and made his way to the door of Y/N’s room again.

“Jason?” Bruce called.

He turned around with an eyebrow quirked.

“Thank you for saving her life.”

Jason tried not to roll his eyes, but took a few steps back to Bruce.

“You have your opinions about me and her, I’m sure. But I want to make this is clear: I’m always going to protect her. Always. What happened tonight is never going to happen again. I’d die protecting her.”

Jason didn’t wait for Bruce’s response before turning back around.

But just as he opened Y/N’s door her heard, “I know, Jason. I’ve always known.”

—————

Jason was able to convince Y/N to stay at the manor.

And she surprisingly agreed – as long as he came with her.

Alfred spoiled her rotten with all of her favorite meals. He was constantly bring her tea or coffee.

Damian ordered all of his pets to keep her company and cuddle with her. To the point where Jason was annoyed because there was literally no space for him.

Tim downloaded a hundred movies for her to watch.

Dick sent flowers and chocolates.

Even Clark stopped by when he heard what happened.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, all the boys and Bruce were working on taking down Farrelli.

If Jason was the man from just a few years ago, Farrelli’s corpse would already be rotting somewhere in Gotham. But he had changed. Now they had to do things the right way.

Jason stuck to Y/N’s side like glue. He hovered, watched her like a hawk, wouldn’t let her do anything on her own.

After of a few days of this, Y/N finally had enough.

“You gonna talk to me anytime soon?” She asked him in bed on their third night.

Jason broke their eye contact.

“Jason. Please?” She whispered.

Silence filled the room.

“I can’t do it.”

Her brow furrowed. “Can’t do what?”

For a split moment, she thought he was about to try and break up with her.

“I can’t watch you get hurt again. I just…I can’t.”

She cupped his cheeks. “But I’m right here. And I’m fine, Jason.”

“When I…” He hesitated. “When I died. I knew it was coming. I saw the bomb counting down and I knew there was no escape. I accepted my fate. I knew I was going to die. And I was scared.”

Jason shook his head and took in a deep breath, “But Y/N…that was nothing compared to what I felt when I was convinced I’d lost you. I’m never been so fucking terrified in my life.”

Y/N smothered him with her embrace. “I’m so sorry for scaring you. But I’m OK. Please just focus on that. Please.”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” Jason whispered into her hair. “This place was hell before I met you. And I have no fuckin’ interest in fighting it without you.”

Y/N wished she could promise Jason that she would never leave him. But she was the child of a mother who passed far too soon. She knew life and death could be so cruel, ripping the loved ones away with or without warning.

No, she didn’t die this time. But who was to say something like this wouldn’t happen again? And maybe next time, she wouldn’t be so lucky. They lived in Gotham after all.

“Fate may have other ideas…But I never plan on leaving your side, Jason. I love you too much to do anything else.”

Jason actually laughed. “I can fight fate.”

He’d done it once before.

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

I have a few more of these prompts for bonus material. But let me know what you think 🤗

#father of mine #father of mine bonus content #bruce wayne x daughter #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd reader insert #red hood x reader #red hood reader insert #batfam #batboys #batsis #bruce wayne x batsis #batboys x batsis #batfam x batsis

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Kind like you (JJK x Reader) 💜🔞☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff/romance, smut, angst, comfort, friends to lovers

Warnings: kinda dense Jungkook, JK being a brat, slight Tsundere JK, Koo struggling to sort his shit, kind reader, Crush!Reader, soft smut, praising, groping, kissing, pool sex, aftercare, heart to heart convos, they talk about toys lol,

Summary: Jungkook dearly wants to be kind like you. He wants to be so sweet, and gentle, and soft like you’re with him all the time; yet all he does is tease and pick on you, it seems.

Jungkook isn’t kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; he’s helpful, caring, and well mannered. But he’s mean, he finds it funny when he gets onto someone else’s nerves. It’s like playing a game for him; and he loves winning. He’s good at it; it’s natural for him.

Then there’s you. You’re even more awkward with strangers than he is (which says a lot), but you’re everything he wants to be. You’re so soft spoken, always seeming to know what exactly to say in any situation. You’re kind, always thinking about everyone around you before you think about yourself, typically asking everyone else’s opinion first before you make up your own. You don’t like it when people fight, you never get possessive over things like he does. It’s even the tiniest things to him that make you seem so goddamn angelic; like that one time he whined about the fact that you got the last pack of butter cookies, immediately taking one for yourself to stuff between those soft looking lips, before shyly giving him the rest of the pack- still almost full. He had taken them without thanking you. He thinks about these moments a lot. He wants to treat you like Jimin does whenever you two interact. He’s so sweet with you, easily complimenting you and making you blush with his words, always playfully holding you close without ever making you uncomfortable. It’s weird to Jungkook how much that pisses him off the most. Whenever he’s alone in a room with you, you look uncomfortable- but when it’s Jimin, or Taehyung, you seem at ease. You joke around, and hug them like it’s second nature, while at the same time, you can’t look him into his eyes at any point of time.

He hates it.

He’s talked to Yoongi about it, after he’s seen you leave his studio one day. He knows you sing, he’s heard your voice, has saved every single cover song you’ve made on his phone to listen to them whenever he needs to just shut off his mind and think about nothing. He wants to do a duet with him, yet he knows he won’t be able to ever publish it because of his position in the industry. It frustrates him, yet he would be happy just singing with you for fun- he doesn’t need to publish it, he doesn’t need anyone else’s opinion on it; but he can’t ask you, it doesn’t matter how hard he tries. He can’t get the words out, even teased you for your voice before.

“You sound like a kid!”

He wants to take it back so desperately, but now, weeks after that comment, it would be weird wouldn’t it? It would just make him look like the fool he knows he is. So now he’s sitting in Yoongis studio, listening to your voice by second hand of you will, having been too unsure to come inside while you were recording. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “She sounds great, no? Really like the slight tilts she has here..” Yoongi murmurs, placing the visual pointer of his mouse on the spot he’s talking about. He’s right, and Jungkook wants to say that, but he simply shrugs. “You don’t like it?” He asks, and Jungkook again, simply lifts his shoulders.

“Not my style, I guess.”

But Yoongi sees past that attitude as he raises his eyebrow questioningly. “Since when? You sing the same kind of songs all the time too.” He says, and Jungkook just chews on the inside of his lip. “You feeling competition?” Yoongi teasingly asks, and Jungkook scoffs.

“I’ve been trained for years, she’s a simple YouTuber. There’s no reason for me to feel competitive.”

But Yoongi suddenly laughs, burying his face in his hand as he stops the song. “Do you have a crush on her or something? You’re acting weird as hell Jungkook.” He says, and looks at Jungkook, who seems like he doesn’t react- only the tips of his ears grow red, as Yoongi laughs again, breathlessly as usual. “Oh my god you do! Little Jungkookie’s got the hots, I can’t believe it!” He barks out, and Jungkook whines.

“I don’t!” He says. “I absolutely don’t. She’s way too shy, and she’s so girly and all..” he complains, but Yoongi continues to smile. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Topic change then.” He says, and Jungkook nods. “Why were you and Taehyung fighting yesterday? Heard you’ve got him quite bad with a pillow.” He asks, and Jungkook groans.

“You said we’re changing the topic!” He says loudly, and Yoongi seems to have the time of his life.

“I am! How should I know the fight was about her?” He asks, and Jungkook kicks his legs with frustration.

“It wasn’t!” He said, and Yoongi raises his eyebrow, resting his head on his hand.

“Why are you getting so defensive then?” He asks.

“Because he shouldn’t send her a topless picture of him like that.” He says.

“I thought it wasn’t about her?” He chuckles.

“Fuck you.” Jungkook retorts, and it’s where Yoongi draws the line.

“Hey hey, calm down yeah? Didn’t mean to poke too much.” He says, and Jungkook nods, apologizing under his breath. “I thought you didn’t like her?” He asks, and Jungkook shrugs again.

“Never said that. But she’s so awkward around me.” He says, now a bit more defeated.

“Ever tried being nice to her?” Yoongi asks, while he continues working on the track to take some pressure off the maknae.

“I don’t know..!” He whines and throws his head back. “In my mind it’s so easy; go up to her, say hello, maybe tell her she looks nice, done!” He exclaims. “And then I say hello and screw it up by making a joke on her account and boom, congrats, fucked it up again.” Jungkook sighes, and The rapper doesn’t say something for a moment until he responds.

“You’re just not like that, I guess.” He explains to the younger one. “But you could try to tone it down a bit. Some of the things you say are actually quite mean.” He scolds gently, and Jungkook nods.

“I don’t know how to do that though.” He says.

“Wrap your compliments up in you remarks.”

“How?” The younger one asks.

“Well, you can’t say she looks nice, right?” The older one asks, and Jungkook nods. “But you always call her shortie.” Again, a nod. “Tell her she looks like a doll.”

“But isn’t that mean too?” He asks, and Yoongi snaps his fingers.

“It’s one of those comments that makes you think. Is it an insult? A compliment? You don’t have to go all in. Tease her in a way that can be taken positively as well. She’s smart enough to get innuendos like that.” He explains, and Jungkook seems to understand as he nods.

Maybe he’ll try that next time.

The next time you’re visiting them, Jungkook is as ready as he’ll ever be to make things count. As you take off your shoes, and hang up your red jacket, he snickers, as he walks by. “What’s up red riding hood?” He says, and he can hear Jimin chuckle from the couch as you follow him into the living room. “She looks like a Disney character with that bag and the jacket.” He says teasingly, and to his own surprise, he can see the edges of your lips move upwards into a shy smile, because he remembers vividly how you'd once told Jimin how much you liked the old classic disney films instead of the new ones.

It’s working, and it’s making him feel daring. Jimin retorts something along the lines of if he’s the wolf in that case and if he would eat her, and he finds his head suddenly on your shoulder, gently reaching over your now seated form on the couch to steal a dumpling from Jimin as he speaks.

“Nah, I’d only eat the ugly ones.” And this time, you’re actually giggling.

It makes his skin tingle.

And the night goes on like that, his typical picking covered in icing sugar, as he watches you become restless on your spot on the couch across from him. He grows addicted to the view, of that sight of your teeth digging into your lip as you grow giddy under his hidden compliments, and Jimin seems to catch up on it pretty quickly. He watches in fascination, as Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, and Jungkook himself feels a pull on his heart when he states that he's slightly (very) upset that you're leaving so early, even though it's almost one in the morning and he typically never even so much as waves you goodbye whenever you leave.

He doesn't mind the slight bullying from his hyungs after he'd waved after your leaving form before you dissappear from his sight.

Jungkook isn't kind.

He likes to portray himself as such, whenever it’s needed, but he’s unable to quite make this characteristic a part of himself truly. It’s not like he’s a bad person, not at all; it's just that he can't help himself when it comes to you. He's quite the sadist really, always bathing in the slight pout and amusing anger radiating off of you whenever he does something to rile you up. It's just like now; even though he knows you hate it, he loves to take advantage of the difference in height between the two of you. He laughes while holding his bowl of cereal while you struggle on the very tips of your toes in the kitchen, trying to reach the pack of sweet breakfast treats that he had placed way higher than necessary.

But it's when you climb onto the counter that several things happen.

First, it's the unintended panty-shot he gets, his pupils practically zooming in on the soft pink fabric on display for his greedy self, making him feel like a schoolboy that just sneaked a glimpse of a naughty magazine his friend had brought into class. It makes his mind fill with images of you, oh-so sweetly laying underneath his form as he pulls the cotton fabric to the side, ready and wanting as you patiently wait for him to connect your souls and bodies in the most intimate of ways.

The other thing however wipes away those images, as his doe eyes widen. It's the realization that you're wearing pink fuzzy socks, on a marbled kitchen counter, the danger of slipping as high as it can be. He knows you're clumsy, knows you're always attracting trouble wherever you go, and it's the small moment of your knee bending, your foot a breath too far off the counter, as you suddenly loose balance. He practically throws his almost empty bowl on the kitchen table before he reaches you, luckily managing to make you fall ontop of him than the cold kitchen tiles below.

At first, it's awfully quiet- there is no one here other than him and you after all. Then, the pain hits him, drumming like the beat of his favorite song, making him drop his head on the floor with a groan. You immediately move at that, getting off of him as you look for anthing that could be the cause. It's when he holds his hand, red seeping through between his fingers that you move. Grabbing kitchen towels for first aid, you help him as best as you can, as he watches you, pain already not so bad anymore as he looks at your delicate hands working on his larger ones with so much care.

He's ready to use it to his fun, yet he stops himself when he sees the tears on our cheeks. "Why're you crying?" He asks, and you suddenly sob more loudly, sniffling as you continue to try and clean his scrape on the back of his palm with running water. He shuts the water off, his hand not even bleeding that much anyways anymore, as he holds your shoulders, body folding over a bit to properly look at you. "Hey hey, why're you crying? I'm hurt here!" He chuckles, but it doesn't seem to do much good- as you just continue.

He suddenly grows more gentle, the hug a bit awkward at first, the close proximity weird for you both, but once he starts to softly rock you both from side to side, his unhurt hand running over your back before he sloppily wipes your tears off of your face- intentionally messily to make you giggle and push his hands off. "You're such a crybaby!" He laughs, as you hold his hand in yours, looking at it again.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, looking up at him, and he swallows hardly as he suddenly grows uneasy with the closeness of you two.

"No, it's just a scratch." He says, suddenly cleaning up the kitchen table where he spilled some of his leftover cereal and milk- simply using it as something to distract himself to calm down. "Why were you even climbing there at all? That's dangerous as hell." He said. "You could've just asked me to get it for you." He ends, and its the most truthful thing he's ever said to you.

Because that's where his deepest intentions with you were hiding. He's so used to being the youngest, of getting away with so much and getting babied by everyone around him, staff or his members, that he craves to take care of someone instead for once. He wants you to ask him for help. He wants you to hide behind his back when you're terrified of Taehuyungs tickle-attacks, he wants you to loose to him when playing video games, just so he can pull you onto his lap, his hands over yours on the controller to show you how its done. He wants you to proudly tell him of any achievement you manage to make no matter how small, just to gain his praise.

He needs you to need him.

Because whenever he's with you, he knows that those compliments and that pure amazement on your face is not because you want something in return, it's simply what it is. You make him feel so appreciated, so desired, so wanted for himself and not for his outside qualities. Because at the same time he loves how passionate you get whenever you notice that you know something better than him- how excited you get when you explain something to namjoon or to Hobi. He want's you to teach him things too, he want's to know what you can do, what you're better at, not because he want's to get better than you, but because he knows you're so much smarter in so many things than he is.

It's your voice that gets him out of his internal terror.

"Oh.. I didn't want to bother you though." You meekly say, and he wants to groan at this, to throw a fit, to be frustrated with you because that's exactly what you never ever do; you could never bother him to the point where he would refuse to help. No, he wants you to bother him. "I-what?" You say, and he suddenly turns around abruptly.

"What?" He asks, terrified if what he thinks just happened really did.

"You said 'But I want you to bother me'..?" You ask, and he wants to slap himself.

"I- I mean, I meant it in like, you can bother me, it doesn't matter much, you know?" He scrambles out, drying his hands after washing his bowl and leaving it in the sink. He suddenly grows uneasy with you in the room, yet he stills at your next words as if frozen in time.

"Oh.. I-" You start, before you step closer. "Thank you then, Jungkookie. I appreciate it." But its not only that, it's the tiny sentence you say and the action that follows that simply fries his mind. "You're not so bad after all." And you place a small kiss against his cheek.

You kiss his cheek.

Your soft lips touched his skin.

And he stands there for a while longer, not knowing what to do.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But over the course of days where you start to grow more and more comfortable, more daring, and more used to understand his language, he slowly mutates into an overgrown puppy.

He demands your attention, loves the way you blush under his teasing, and craves the way you squirm around whenever he's close to you. He's almost certain he's got a chance with you, making his own creativity thrive under your spell. He takes more photos than ever before, starts to be even more active (after you'd accidentally let it slip that you actually like how strong he is and that it makes you feel safe), and all in all simply falls for you.

But its all gone to waste at a certain dinner with his hyungs, that his food suddenly tastes stale, and his appetite is gone. "I want to confess to her, you know? I think I really got a chance." Jimin says, and Yoongi glances at Jungkook, concerned for the youngest since he knows his secret crush. "I mean she even gets along with the brat here!" He playfully says, playfully hitting Jungkooks shoulder lightly, but he doesn't seem an innocent gesture in it. No, Jungkook is riled up, and suddenly stands at the table, taking his cutlery and dishes to discard them in the sink. "Jungkook?" Jimin asks, confused, but Yoongi shakes his head with a sigh after the youngest simply retreated into his room for an early night.

"Jimin, I don't think that's a good idea." Yoongi says, and Namjoon seems confused. "I don't intend to be rude, but your interest changes weekly. Now it's her, the next week its someone else. Jungkook however-" He calmly explains, ignoring the slightly offended look of the dancer across from him. "You know him. He's never shown interest before- in anyone." Jimin slowly seems to understand, as Taehyung nods at it. "He really likes her. Think about it. Once you take that step, there's no going back. There's no 'lets stay friends if we break up' because that's just awkward. There's no second chance for Jungkook."

Jimin slowly nods, suddenly without much taste for his food as well. "I didn't know, honestly."

"It was kind of hard to see not gonna lie." Hoseok chimes in, putting his chopsticks down as he swallows the last bite of food. "He's all over her recently." He explains, and everyone nods.

This wasn't just a simple crush for him.

This was full blown love.

Jungkook isn't kind.

But he also can't say no to you.

He wants to be mad, he really tried to as well. But it's just- he sees your smile and hears your voice, and he's all in your hands, ready and willing to your very command. That's how he finds himself at your tiny apartment, helping you to put up some of your latest paintings on your walls- because initially you'd asked if he or his hyungs had a ladder in his dorm, but after you'd told him you'd use it to climb up to hang some paintings, he'd instead told you he'd help you instead, just to make sure you wouldn't fall and have an accident or something.

He want's to be mad, because he knows Jimin must've made his move at this point.

You seem so at ease, so happy, your steps so light and almost jumpy he wants to cry internally at how cute you are, for someone that isn't him.

"Ah, yes, that's perfect!" You say, and he slowly steps down from your chair he'd burrowed to boost his height a little, your hands weakly trying to steady him while he finally reaches the floor again. "I've made some cold stew yesterday, do you wanna stay and eat a little?" You ask, and he wants to nod, but doesn't.

"I don't wanna intrude or something." He says, grimply smiling as he brings the chair back into the kitchen area where it came from. He hates how deflated you suddenly look, how almost sad you simply nod as you trail after him like a lost pet, something many would find bothering, yet he loved it. He loved how you were always around him like a little shadow, as if to silently stay close to him. "So, you and uhm.. Jimin?" He asks suddenly, unable to keep the words inside.You blink, once, twice, before tilting your head in question. "He.. hasn't talked to you?" He asked, and you shook your head.

"No, what would he want to talk about with me?" You ask, and a very terrifying thought comes into his mind, like a tiny devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear. He hasn't made his move yet, so if he plays his cards right, he could still steal you from him quick and swift. You'd be his, he knows you're too kind to say no if he confessed, and Jimin would stand no chance. But just like the tiny devil, a tiny angel was there as well. Who was he to interfere with someone else's romantic life? He knew Jimin liked you enough to ask you out, and even though his hyung was never one to stay long, it would be an absolute dick move of him to ruin his chances.

But he loved you.

"Oh, you mean about you and me!" You suddenly said, and Jungkook almost choked on his saliva. "He said something about you liking me, and uh, that I should confess to you even though I know you're not interested in me like that- I'm sorry if he said something weird, it's just a weird crush, I'll get over it-" But he short-circuits, and blurts out what comes to his mind before he can think about it.

"Don't!" He says, a little too loud, and your eyes grow wide. "Don't.. get over it. I-" He's suddenly confused, overwhelmed, and has no idea how to handle this sudden turn of events properly. Should he kiss you now like in the movies or something? But he should also ask if he should, otherwise its without consent, but it would kind of ruin the moment, and oh god why do his hands suddenly get sweaty, thats so gross-

It's the shy and delicate touch to the very tips of his fingers, hand splaid out on the kitchen table that you're touching with yours, cheeks red and eyes down, and he suddenly thinks, 'fuck those movies', as he leans in and kisses you, slowly, just to make sure you're okay with it.

You're so okay with it.

He grows hungry at the movement of your lips, brows furrowing as he lets himself ride this wave of pure euphoria, holding your cheeks so lightly that you barely feel his touch at all. You snake your arms around his head as you tug him down a bit more, and his neck aches, so he simply reaches for your behind to help you up on the kitchen table for better leverage. "You're-" He starts between kisses, and can't help his smile. "-mine." He ends, and you nod with excitement, just as high on happiness as he is. "Can I, like-" He starts, almost frustrated with how he can't stop his lips from chasing yours even if he's the one talking. "-Touch you?" He finally gets out, and again, you nod, even if the tips of your ears grow a bit red at the suggestive question. His hands suddenly wander, over your shoulders down your sides, before they find your thighs. He loves the softness of them, his fingers on your knees as he opens your legs so he can get even closer to you. As if on instinct, your socked feet pull him towards you, and he chuckles at that, finally slipping his tongue between your lips as you push a hand into his dark hair, making him groan. He cups the sides of your breasts at first, delicately feeling them, before he squeezes gently, getting a proper idea of their plushness under his fingers.

He loves them already.

"I don't-" He starts, and is breathless just as you are as he places his kisses on the side of your neck. "I don't wanna fuck you on the kitchen table baby." He finally gets out, and you mewl at that. "Hm?" He asks, but you shake your head, too shy to say anything to that. He suddenly reaches for your behind, lifting you against his chest as he walks around with you, making you and himself laugh as he opens the wrong door before he finally finds your bedroom- cozy and cold due to the open window you always leave so that you can sleep better at night. You sigh at the cool feeling of the sheets underneath your hot body, and he grins down at you as he can't feel anything but pure ecstasy. Suddenly, he laughs, and groans lodly against your chest as he lets his forehead rest against it.

"What?" You ask between a laugh, and he begins to whine.

"I don't have a condom, fuck." He drawls out, and he really feels like an idiot. He's a fully grown man, he should have shit like that with him at all times, especially when he knows he's gonna visit his crush- but its so sudden, so unprepared, that he simply didn't think this would ever happen. He's deflated, painfully hard, and frustrated with himself, as you speak up again.

"Uhm, theres an orange handbag in the bathroom, its like, next to the shower. I think I still have one in there."You say, and he looks up questioningly. "It was a joke-present from a friend, please don't ask." You say, growing shy again as he simply chuckles, before getting up and searching for the bag you mentioned. It's safe to say that he doesn't only find the condom, but also a still fully packaged vibrator toy, in the same bag. His interest is definetely woken, but he decides against using it to tease you this time.

He'd get his chance soon.

But in that moment, as he climbs ontop of the bed again, it's all about you and him- its not about mindblowing sex or unusual experiences. He just wants to be inside you, close to you, he wants to claim you in ways that only lovers can. He's surprised, when he takes off his shirt, that you suddenly hold your arms high.

You're absolutely adorable in his eyes.

He chuckles as he helps you out of your sweater, kissing your nose, your cheeks, your lips, as he unhooks your bra to finally get a skin to skin feel of your breasts. He loves it even more like this, warm and soft under his palms, and you mewl in enjoyment as he continues his antics. He doesn't even notice when you'd discarded your shorts and underwear, his pants gone in a flash as his inked fingers reach between your legs to sloppily prepare you for him.

He knows he's a bit more on the.. bigger side, to say the least, a grower more than a shower, and it used to make him nervous in a weird kind of way. You're so delicate, so sweet, that he doesn't want to hurt you, and hes slow and steady as he finally enters you after putting on his protection. But you take it, you're such a champ, and pull him towards you by his neck as he moves slowly.

He picks up his pace at your demand, lost in euphoria as he lets himself go, lets himself enjoy as his mind is filled with your voice, your sounds, your scent, your everything. This is what he wanted, this is where he wants to stay for the rest of time. Not nescessarly buried withing you (although that's not a bad sound he thinks), but in your embrace, within your presence. He want's to stay at your side forever, keep you close to him so no one can hurt you, not even yourself.

He comes with a whine, an arch of his back, and his fingers on your pearl, desperate to get you over the edge as well.

It works.

And he's happy, exhausted, and absolutely in love as he falls down the mattress at your side.

"I always thought it would be weird." You said after you'd both taken a shower and cleaned up properly. He'd texted his hyungs, telling them with obnoxious emoticons that he's spending the night with his girlfriend, and Jimin plus Yoongi had reacted with a vomiting emoji.

Yet they were happy.

"What would be weird?" Jungkook asks, his hand running up and down your arm as you laid next to him, snuggled up onto his body.

"You know, having sex." You said, and it takes a moment before he suddenly snaps his head to you.

"Wait, that was your first time?!" He exclaimed, utterly shocked at it as he'd been convinced you weren't a virgin. You have had boyfriends before, he knew that, hell, he'd seen them too, and considering you were pretty close agewise he couldn't imagine. He feels bad about it, if he'd known, he would've made it more special, hell he would've asked you more times if you were okay with him taking something so precious from you. Now you could never get it back and he'd fucked it up.

"I mean, kind of?" You explained, suddenly hiding your face. "I mean, I've done, like, stuff with men before.. and I also used a.. you know, 'thing', but like, never the real.." You tried to come up with different names for the things you wanted to say, yet you simply ceased to talk.

Jungkook chuckled. "You used what? A dildo? Like, a fake dick?" He said, and you hit his chest with a whine, utterly mortified by his way of talking. "Come on I saw that vibrator in your bag there, but I never though you were a virgin!" He said, and you whined again.

"Technically I wasn't!"

He scoffed playfully. "Baby your first time was with a toy considering what you just told me, that STILL means you were a virgin!" He argued, and you groaned, trying to get out of his grasp now. "Come on, at least tell me if my dick was better than that rubber-cock?" He asked, and laughed full on at the way you hid your face behind your hands with a yell. "Don't hurt my ego, say it!" He laughs, and tickles your sides.

"Yeah yeah okay, your dick was better stop!" You laugh, and he grins, suddenly pulling you close to him as he hides his face in your hair.

"Oh baby-" He sighes out. "I love you so much."

"And I hate you." You mumble, before he playfully bites your ear.

"Jungkook no, they could see-!" Yet he doesn't let up, uncaring. The hotel they were staying at had a strict privacy policy- at this point his agency could ruin

them with a snap of their fingers just because they leaked a single strand of his hair. He wasn't concerned at all, as he continued to bite and kiss at your neck,

unable to keep his hands to himself as he grows hard.

He loves the high he gets from being in danger of getting caught.

Its silly, in a way, but it feels like a rush of some sorts. It's like he's a teenager again, sneaking in candy even though he's on a diet just to feel bratty, and its not

much different now, even though the scale is another. This was actually dangerous, but since no one else was staying at the hotel, and his hyungs had all gone

to bed, he refused to give in.

He wanted you, and he would take you.

Jungkook never liked sharing, nor giving away what was his when he himself didn't openly give it away. What was his, was his, there was no room for

discussion, even though he'd become a bit more understanding nowadays. Yet he would never let anyone see you like this, so vulnerable and wanting for him,

ready to become his slave to quench his thirst for you at anytime. You loved him just as much as he loved you, and this exchange of feelings always got him

riled up to the point of desperation.

Just like now, as he helps you stay afloat with his forearms underneath your own arms, kissing you silly while he pushes his thigh upwards underwater, feeling

you rut agains it like an animal in heat. He loved how you got whenever he pushed your buttons right, loved the sight, the sound, the entire situation. It ruined

porn for him in a way, modern erotica in no way reaching the level of satisfactory aesthetic that the sight of you could bring him. He'd taken pictures and videos

of you in nude positions and explicit situations to keep him entertained whenever he was far away, because whatever he found online of strangers couldn't bring

him a release worth working for anymore.

So it was utterly welcomed by him, when you had surprisingly told him that you had arranged to share the hotel room with him, and that you were tagging along for two weeks of his tour. Of course, his happiness was mostly simple enjoyment that you were there at his side, that you would sleep right next to him, yet it also was of a more carnal side of himself. And now, while his blood was still hot like lava inside his veins, adrenalin still high from his last concert, he was desperate to let go, end this day in a way he never thought he properly could.

He sloppily pushed the barrier between himself and your core to the side underwater, pulling his length out of his swimtrunks as well, uncaring on making it romantic. He knew he didn't need to always go overboard, he was clingy and touchy enough that you always felt appreciated and loved, even if he was impatient like that. He groaned out, mixed with a chuckle as he suddenly realized what he was doing, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck to bite and leave open mouthed kisses, rhythm just as steady and on-point as onstage just hours ago.

He came quicker than he'd liked, tattooed hand gently pushing you over the edge as well. you whined as he helped you out the pool, utterly mortified but still happy at the way he simply picked you up bridal style, carrying you out and back into your room, ready for a good nights' sleep.

The best he had ever gotten while on tour.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

can i request mc fucking idia in his racer car bed?

anon i... have developed an obsession with your request i must confess. This has a life of its own now. this is.. .. .mostly porn it starts of silly but its very much porn

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

word count: 1147- over my usual limit but well. i got excited

(nsfw under cut)

“It’s-”

“Yeah.”

“A racer car bed.”

You close the door right behind you as soon as you switch on the lights. Idia stares around your bedroom with this sort of incredulous face, you don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind.

“I, um.” He stutters. “Didn’t think you’d have something like that.”

“Why, is it funny?” You joke, taking a step closer towards him. “Does it make you forget what we were supposed to be doing here?”

Idia’s face flushes red. “I-It’s, not, uh...”

“Come on. Sit down.” You chuckle, and nod towards the infamous racer car bed. Idia hesitates before he starts moving to sit on the bed -- And that’s when you take advantage of his nervousness, moving towards him to pounce quickly, your legs caging his in, hands on the sides of his head on the wall.

Idia squeaks, backing himself up against said wall. Cute, you think, unable to help the smirk that forms on your lips. Idia’s so damn cute -- You kiss him without even uttering a word, and he makes another surprised noise against your lips, struggling to keep up with your excitement. You feel his hands on your chest, then your shoulders, trying to pull you closer or hold onto you, whatever it was.

“So you didn’t forget.” You tease, and he averts his eyes, pulling the hood of his jacket towards his face to partially cover it up. Well, that just won’t do, but you could get that thing off him soon.

“S-Shut up, you’re so embarrassing.”

“Aw, is little Idia embarrassed?” He always complains, but he always lets you manhandle him as you want -- Hands on his waist urging him to move and lay down, so you could be on top of him. He’s so cute you feel like you’re burning, but it’s important to keep your cool now. “Why? Are you so put off by the bed you don’t want me to touch you?”

You’re just being a bastard now, but it’s worth it.

“S-Stop talking about the bed, you...!” He stutters, voice dying into a crack when you bite lightly at his neck. “Don’t bring the b-bed into this, please...”

“You look like you’re having fun, though.” It’s hard to keep laughter in, especially when this is just a little bit ridiculous, but you find that you enjoy this lack of seriousness. Idia still whines at every touch, trying to cover his face but staying so wonderfully pliant as you tug that jacket off him and put your hands up his shirt. “Should I say... maybe later I could take you for a ride?”

You’re not giving him enough time for his little snarky responses, just rubbing at his cock through his pants, pulling a surprised, high-pitched moan from him. This couldn’t take too long anyways, as much as torturing Idia for a little while was appealing.

“Nn, you’re s-so... ah, please...!” He’s barely coherent, bucking into your hand. Cute, you think, having to avoid staring, so stupidly cute.

“You’re so easy, Idia.“ You mutter, but your heart is racing now. Your hands get a life of their own, scrambling to undo Idia’s pants, eyes wandering all around, to the hiked up shirt, the hickeys, the way drool drips silently from blue lips, the rise and fall of his chest because of the erratic breathing. It’s overwhelming even when this started in a way that was so--

“S-Stop stalling, come on, please.” He begs hurriedly, you can just pull his pants down faster, feeling like you’re in a frenzy. It’s a god damn racer car bed. All of this should just be funny, but Idia’s whining and looking at you through these tear-blurred eyes, you find everything that was ridiculous about the situation simply slipping your mind.

The bottle of lube under your pillow is just a stretch of your usual reach away, though grabbing it is made vaguely harder through Idia’s incessant clinging, legs that have wrapped loosely around yours, trying to urge you to hurry. You silently promise that you will.

“You’re so cute it should be illegal.” You sigh, one part exasperated, the other horny enough to be out of your mind, and after pulling off his boxers and spreading his legs you have a slicked finger inside him. “Tell me what feels nice. And when I can do more.”

Idia whines, turning his face against the pillow to hide -- It doesn’t do much, you can see the flush on his chest, creeping down his neck. He’s so easy.

“Idia, baby. If you don’t use your words we’re gonna be here forever.” You chuckle airily, though you’re beginning to move your hand already, just slowly.

“J-Just put another in already, I-I’m--” He mewls, partially muffled on the pillow. “Please, please, I need it.”

“Right, right. Stop hiding your face, though.” Another finger goes in, Idia’s hand that had been clutching at the mattress starts clutching at your free arm instead, you get to see him all red-faced and messed up again. A gift from the gods, really.

“You’re so...ah, so mean.” He murmurs, and you chuckle before speeding up for a bit. “D-Do another, come on.”

“We’re not in that much of a hurry.”

“I am!” He squeaks, you’re silenced for a bit. “P-Please, I need it... need you, inside me, now.”

You swallow. Idia’s rarely demanding -- Something about him doing something like that, it’s just...and because he was now, you can barely bring yourself to think, just leaning down to kiss him, teeth nipping at his lips and entire body brimming with the need that coursed through your veins, you put another finger in and move as well as you can, just the way you know he likes it while you kissed him. You could feel your heart almost stopping when you feel him moan loudly into your mouth, squeezing around your fingers. Fuck.

“T-There, please, come on...”

Listening to his rants is easier than not doing it -- Idia clutches at the front of your shirt, eyes shut as helpless moaning spills from him, growing in pitch and volume, you’re gonna wake up the entire dorm, who cares, and you keep pressing on the right spot.

You know he’s close -- And that you’re not supposed to just let him come now, but temptation is a real thing, and Idia is irresistible like this. You wrap a hand around his cock to stroke him, getting almost a shriek from him before you kiss him messily again, and he spills all over your hand, unraveling with a cry that’s drowned on your tongue.

You pull away, breathless. Idia stares at you drowsily. Red faced, sweaty, breathless too.

“Good?” You ask, unable to think of any other words.

He nods. There’s silence as you ponder licking your hand clean--

“S-So... um.” Idia begins, voice almost brittle. “About that ride...”

#... this piece really explores the idia thirst of the artist #not sfw #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #lis writing

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pedrosbish · 3 years

Text

cinnamon girl

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst, unrequited feelings, mentions of drug use, lil bit of fluff

“Are you nervous?”

You smile softy at the way his laugh falls out of his mouth, like a melody that rises before slowly falling - yeah, he’s really nervous. Glancing at him standing in front of the mirror, you notice him struggling with his bowtie, something the boys laughed about when he said that his wife-to-be had insisted he wear it on the big day - you had not laughed.

“This fucking thing,” he turns towards you with his hands in the air and a frown on his face that you can’t help but chuckle at. “Could you please help me?”

“Maybe I could get one of the boys to d-”

“Please?”

Ignoring the way your stomach erupts in butterflies at the way he stares at you, his deep brown eyes calling you to drown in them, you tentatively move to stand in front of him. Taking a deep breath through your nose your hands move of their own accord, placing themselves on his chest and you sneak a glance up at his face, his beautiful and gleaming face. Your eyes burn slightly as you touch his bowtie, the black material soft as you slowly tie it below the collar of his shirt. He looks so happy and it breaks your heart.

You can feel the way his eyes are trained on you and your heart flutters in your ribcage but you don’t dwell on the feeling for too long otherwise it would cause hope to blossom in a place where it was sure to fizzle out. You couldn’t even look the man you loved in the face.

“There you go Frankie,” it’s a quiet whisper as you pat his chest, once then twice, squishing the ache to hold onto him for just a little while longer.

“Thank you,” he faces the mirror, fixing his recently trimmed hair and straightening the bowtie. “Right, how do I look?”

“Very handsome,” you force a laugh out of your mouth but it falls flat. “I should probably go join the rest of the guests now.”

Before you can leave, a calloused hand grabs your wrist and gently tugs you into the warm body of Frankie who proceeds to wrap his arms around your waist, his face falling into the crook of your neck, his breath causing goosebumps to rise. You close your eyes, savouring the way he feels against you as your own arms wrap around his neck, squeezing tightly before releasing him. You pat his shoulders and his arms falls to his sides, a small smile on his face as he watches you leave the room.

You close your eyes as the door falls shut behind you, a few tears escaping and rolling down your face and you hastily wipe them away as you hear footsteps moving in your direction. Santiago appears in your blurry vision as he hurries towards you, gently taking you by the elbow and steering you around the corner just as a sob works its way up your throat.

“It hurts so fucking much Santi,” you manage to gasp out and the man before you nods his head, a small frown on his face as he pulls you into his chest, your tears instantly leaving its mark on his chest. “God, I love him so much it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

Why were you doing this to yourself?

You already had the answer to that. Because you loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and seeing him this happy, even if it meant you had to break yourself and attempt to mend the broken pieces, even if it meant it wasn’t with you, it was worth it.

~~~

“She’s beautiful Francisco.”

You gently trace the soft face of the baby in your arms, nestled in her pink blanket and eyes shut. Little noises escape her mouth as she dreams, her tiny hand wrapping around your finger tightly which causes a small giggle to escape you.

“She’s got quite a grip!” You glance up at him only to notice him looking out the window overlooking the garden outside, lost in his own thoughts.

You took the time to look him over, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you noticed the bags that stood out on his unusually pale face and the way his shirt hung loosely on his body, more so then when you had last seen him. Eyebrows scrunching in worry, you place the baby back in her chair, the tenseness in your shoulder disappearing for a second as she wiggles before settling back into her sleep.

It all returns when you start walking towards Frankie, slowly reaching a hand out and placing it on his back. He jumps slightly before settling back to watch outside when he notices that it’s just you.

“Frankie,” you try to get his attention and you ignore the way your heart tugs when he makes no move to acknowledge you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

You know that he didn't mean to snap at you but you still retract your hand from its position quickly and it falls at your side, nervously fiddling with a loose piece of string from your jeans. His eyes soften when he notices and he rubs at his forehead, eyes closing for a second before he looks at you, really looks at you this time instead of just looking through you.

“I’m just tired,” his laugh is humourless as he glances around the house, taking in the blankets and pillows in a pile on the couch and the baby next to it. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are- are you guys...fighting?”

“Yeah,” he sighs and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes slowly become shinier with every second. “Just...couple problems.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you rub soothingly with your thumb, taking no notice of the way they hunch towards you, begging for more comfort. His eyes look over your face but you don’t notice, only taking in the fact that his skin feels oddly clammy under your hand and the bone of his shoulder protrudes.

“Have you been eating properly?”

He doesn’t answer, his eyes and body now shifting away from you as he returns to his spot by the window. Fuck, you shouldn't have said anything. You instantly regret speaking until an idea sparks in your mind.

“We could maybe show the kid our favourite diner? I could really go for one of their burgers and milkshakes right now.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips and you smile in return, knowing you said the right thing. The two of you had accidentally stumbled across the small diner - how you don’t exactly remember as you were looking for a completely different place- and you had eaten, falling in love with the place. As often as you two could you would meet up for a meal there, finding solace in the food and in each other.

But, but then it falls as quickly as it appeared and he shakes his head.

“Not hungry.”

“Frankie, please. You look like you’ve barely eaten! It’s not good for you and it’s not good for your baby.”

“I said I’m fucking fine! Just fucking leave me be!”

Silence.

And then it’s broken by the cries of the once sleeping baby. You rush over and immediately rock her back and forth, hiding your tears from the gaze of Frankie who, once again, turns to look out at that fucking window as if he hadn’t just yelled at you. Once her cries fade out, you place her back in her chair before moving towards Frankie.

“I just wanted to h-”

“Just get out.”

“What?”

He whips around to face you, fire burning in his eyes and face now red.

“I don’t need your help. Fuck, I don’t even want your help. I’m fine, my wife is fine and my baby is fine. Now please get the fuck out of my house.”

Your mouth falls open in shock at his outburst, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as you watch him, his chest heaving at a fast pace and his face red as he glares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. He makes no move to comfort you, doesn’t open his mouth to apologise and explain what’s got him worked up and it breaks your heart. This wasn’t the Frankie you knew and loved.

“I can’t do this with you Francisco. I can’t watch the man I love fall apart like this,” you manage to say and you don’t wait for his answer as you quickly kiss the baby goodbye and walk out the door.

~~~

Hours turned into days and days turned into months with neither you or Frankie making any move to talk to each other. Santiago had visited you several times after you had ignored his comments about how his friend, your friend, was doing, begging you to come out for drinks, to the movies, even softball games with the boys. You had declined every invitation and Santiago had never pushed, eventually getting the hint that you were ignoring a certain somebody.

He hadn’t given much detail but had said that Frankie was doing better, he had “gotten clean” after his wife had left and threatened to take his baby away from him. Santiago had left after that conversation and you had cried. You cried until your lungs hurt and the tears had dried up. Your friend had been hurting so much that he couldn't come to you for help.

A week had passed since that conversation with Santiago and so many times you had opened your contacts, finger hovering over Frankie’s number but every time you had put your phone down, your argument playing in your head over and over again. You were too scared to make amends, scared that he would yell at you again for meddling in his life.

A knock sounds at the door and you rush over - whoever was out there in this weather was either very brave or very stupid. It was raining heavily as you opened the door and a wave of cold and wet air hit you, making a gasp escape your mouth. Squinting your eyes against the onslaught of rain you take in the hooded figure of-

“Francisco? What the hell are you doing here?” You raise your voice in order for him to hear you over the rain. “Quickly come inside!”

Closing the door behind him, Frankie attempts to shake off the water that collected on his jacket as he had tried working up the courage to raise his fist and knock on your door. His breath catches in his throat as he glances at you, still as beautiful as the day he last saw you, the last day he yelled at you.

“I’m so sorry,” he looks down at the ground and whispers it so quietly but you manage to hear him. “I’m so sorry for what I said, for what I did to you. You didn't fucking deserve it. God, you deserve a better friend than me.”

“Frankie...”

He closes his eyes at the wave of emotion that washes over him at the sound of his nickname falling past your lips, whispered so softly that he almost collapses to his knees in front of you. You deserve to be worshipped. You deserve every good thing in this goddamn world.

You slowly move closer to him until you stand directly in front of him and ignoring the way his wet clothes make you shiver, you cup his cheek in your hand. He leans into your touch and opens his eyes which trace every feature on your face as if it was his last day to do so and you ignore the way your heart flutters within your chest, threatening to escape into the hands of the man before you.

“Did you mean what you said that night?”

His question knocks you off guard and your eyebrows furrow in concentration as you work through what was said that night, giving him the sudden urge to trace your eyebrows, your eyes, your nose, your lips, every part of you with his finger. You open your mouth to answer but he beats you to it.

“When you said that you loved me?”

“Oh Francisco,” you say gently, eyes filling with tears. “How could I not?”

Without hesitation, he leans forward and captures your lips in a kiss that would have knocked you off your feet if it had not been for his arm circling around your waist. His lips are as soft, as they have always looked to you, his scruff ticking your skin, and with that thought you wrap your arms around his neck, ignoring the way his wet clothes stick to your dry ones.

You break away for a second to catch your breath, smiling at the way your lips tingle with his kiss and he smiles back down at you. This was your Frankie. He leans down to plant a fleeting kiss on your lips, instantly making you want more, more, more.

“I love you too.”

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

firsts with itadori yuji

I hope you don’t mind I’m kind of running with this idea and adding more than you asked lol I just...i don’t know it butters my biscuit. Also gender neutral reader~

First meeting:

It’s at his old school

You’re in his class, but you never talk to each other! Itadori is shy with you, believe it or not! He wants to say something but whenever he thinks about going up to you, whether you’re alone or with a group, his stomach twists in knots

Luckily though, you’re also in a club that ends right when he goes to the hospital to see his grandpa, so he’ll walk a little slower to see you coming out of your club room talking and laughing with your friends and he’ll imagine what it must be like to be in a club with you

Will not ask you to join his club tho, shy shy shy he is

It’s only when it’s raining and, yes you guessed it correctly folks, you don’t have an umbrella!

Itadori Yuji has a few options here lads, what do we think he’ll pick?

Option one: be a cool guy and slide right up to you with his umbrella already open in his hands and tell you that he’ll walk you home

Option two: ask politely if you’d like to walk under his umbrella together to your house and maybe stop at a convenience store along the way for a candy?

Option three: be a cool guy(again) and just put the umbrella in your hands and tell you to use it and he walks out into the rain with only his hood on, enticing you to run out to him and say that you two can share an umbrella!

What option do you think he’s chosen?

Now was Yujis chance. You were alone, standing just inside the school entryway rocking back and forth on your heels, a little pout on your lips at seeing the downpour. It had only just started raining, it was clear weather all week, so this rain is more than just a little unexpected.

Gripping his umbrella tightly in his hands, Yuji walks up to you, intent on asking if you want to share his. He’d be more than happy to walk you home, his grandpa would be happy to hear that he walked his crush home instead of ‘wasting his time’ coming to the hospital.

“H-hey!” Yuji’s voice goes higher than he intended when he drops his umbrella and kicks it forward as he walks, launching it at your feet and making you jump a little and turn around. His face erupts in a fiery blush when you pick it up and look at him quizzically.

“Here you go.” You say, holding it out for him to take. Yuji shakes his head almost violently, much to your confusion. “Uhm, Itadori, what are you trying to say?”

You know his name. Oh fuck, you know his name and here he is making a fool of himself.

“I-I- no, take my umbrella.” His brain is in critical overdrive. He truly might pass out. “Take my umbrella! I have my hood, and I’m not going very far! Just to the hospital, to see my grandpa! They’ll probably have an umbrella there I can borrow if it’s still raining!” He really, honestly, truly didn’t mean to say all that, but the words came out like vomit.

“Oh, that’s nice, thank you so much!” Your smile warms his heart but does nothing to calm him down. “But I’m-”

“(Y/N)!” One of your friends shouts from down the hall, and they quickly round the corner with their own umbrella in their hands.

“Hey!”

“I got my umbrella from the classroom, let's go home now!” Your friend quickly notices Yuji. “Hi Itadori, what’s up?”

“He offered me his umbrella. Thanks again, Itadori!” Grabbing his hand, you put the umbrella back in his possession.

“Uh- yeah! You- welcome! Welcome!” Yuji stutters out, waving dumbly back at you as you wave at him and leave the school with a cute little smile on your cheeks.

Yuji was never going to wash his hand again.

First hangout:

This one happens as a going away party for himself after he’s accepted into his new school

He wants to say goodbye to his clubmates, and somehow word got out and a few classmates are coming as well - even you!

Everyone got him a little cake and you’ve all signed a going away card, and Yuji hones in on your message, a cute swirly one written in a glitter gel pen with a heart by his name

Afterschool in the classroom, you all decide to play games and stuff, and that’s when he gets to be close to you

“(Y/N), Itadori, you’re up next!” Somehow a tournament style game has started of who can hold their breath the longest. Standing face to face at the front of the room, you give him a big thumbs up.

“You’re probably going to win, Itadori, I’m bad at this kind of thing.” You laugh.

“Let’s see.” Is all he can say as a reply. You’d talked a bit more after your first meeting, but he could never get more than a few words out at a time.

“Go!” Sucking in deep breaths, you stare at each other with puffed out cheeks. You’re already struggling, fighting back laughter and clapping a hand over your mouth. Yuji thinks he might lose just from seeing how cute you are in front of him.

“Ahhh!” You lose, just like you said you would. Dizzy from lack of air, you stumble forward into him, laughing and gripping the front of his jacket. “Told you!” His hand lands on your shoulder and Yuji is sure he could pass away happy right now.

“Yeah, you are pretty bad.” Yuji laughs, finally breaking his nervous shell around you the more you laugh and pat him on the arm.

After this game, you form a team and play with a ball, help each other with cards, and you even paint his nails in a pretty polish you’d brought from home. At the end, Yuji is still too nervous to ask for your number, so this is the last time you see each other.

First confession:

It’s been two years since then, he’s a third year now and Yuji still thinks about you. He still checks in with his old school friends from time to time and asks about you, and he follows you on Instagram and sees the things you post and how much you’ve changed over the years

He’s not content living this way, only seeing and hearing about you like this, but it’s been two years since you last saw each other and you weren’t exactly close before you left, so he couldn’t just slide into your DM’s

And in the past two years he’s changed. A lot. Not only has he been swamped with his new life, he also has a whole nother soul inside of him that quickly learned of his long lost crush and teased him about it nonstop

But on a free day in the city with Nobara, he’s quite literally buzzing - you’re in the same area. He saw you post last night about going to a certain cafe and all he had to do was ask Nobara if she wanted to go to the city and she said yes immediately.

And now he’s standing in front of said cafe, and he can see you inside. Surprisingly you’re alone, and his fingers itch to go in and ‘casually’ bump into you

Nobara knows of his crush on you as well, and as soon as she spots you she’s pushing Yuji through the door, and of course they cause a fucking scene

“Get in the fucking cafe!” Nobara is shouting not so quietly. There’s people walking past them, looking confused, and Yuji could literally die right now, especially when he makes eye contact with you.

He gives up then, letting himself get pushed into the cafe. He expects Nobara to follow after him but she’s running down the street cackling evilly. Yuji has no other option than to go in and order a drink, albeit shamefully.

“H-hi. Is this seat taken?” He asks you. You’d been watching him ever since you saw him with a big smile barely concealed by your hand.

“Of course not, Itadori.” You giggle.

God, he’s missed you.

Sitting down across from you, Yuji takes a quick sip of his drink to soothe his suddenly parched throat. Sukuna knows better than to pop out in public, but that still doesn’t stop Yuji from putting a hand over one of the marks below his eyes, just in case.

“How have you been (Y/N)?” He tries to say casually, but his voice warbles and Sukuna chuckles quietly for only him to hear.

“I’ve been good! It’s been so long, Itadori, I’ve missed you!” You pout, a wicked sight for his heart, and you reach across the table to pat Yuji on the arm. “I’ve been wanting to message you on Instagram for forever now but I’ve been too nervous you wouldn’t really remember me!”

“You have?” Yuji gasped dramatically, and he could hear not only you but Sukuna laughing at him.

“Yeah! I’m actually really surprised to see you here, I thought you went to a school out in another prefecture.”

“N-no! I’m still in Tokyo!”

“Really, we should totally hang out sometime!”

“Yes!” This couldn’t be going any better for Yuji. There’s a pause in conversation where you both take a sip of your drinks.

“So, was that your girlfriend pushing you into the cafe?”

“What?!” Yuji nearly shouts, almost spitting out his drink. “G-girlfriend?!” His cheeks blush lightly, and he shakes his head. “No. No way, she is not my girlfriend. She’s my classmate.”

“That’s good to hear, actually.” Now is your turn to be embarrassed, and a bashful smile spreads on your cheeks. “Because I’ve always kind of liked you.”

What.

“What?!” This time Yuji does shout, Sukuna is definitely laughing at him and teasing him, and you’re nodding in confirmation. “Oh my god.” Running a hand through his hair, Yuji doesn’t even have to think about his next words. “I like you too! A lot!”

“Really?” Your brow raises.

“Yes! Ever since first year. I’ve had a-” was he really about to say this? “A massive crush on you.” He realizes what he’s said is a little heavier than what you said. A massive crush is much different than kind of liking someone, but he can’t help it. And Sukuna is quick to point out the difference in his head as well.

“Then we really have to hang out!” Yuji laughs, relieved you feel the same way.

“It’s a date.” He says and delights in the way you share a cheeky smile.

“Definitely a date.”

First date:

Yuji never thought he’d ever have the opportunity to go on a date with you, at least not in this lifetime

You exchange numbers at the cafe and as soon as Yuji gets back to the dorms he’s texting you, asking if you got home okay and to let him know when you’re free

That first text is a gateway drug because now he can’t stop texting you all the time, even when he’s in class or should be training

He’s staying up far too late to message you but no one can stop him

When your schedules finally align again, you both settle on going to a ramen shop close by his old school

6pm. That’s the time you agreed to meet up. So why was Yuji already down the block from the restaurant at 5:15?

“God you’re so desperate!” Sukuna laughed as Yuji sat in an empty park waiting for time to go by.

“I know, I know.” He groaned back, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes together. “I was so nervous about being late I didn’t even think!”

“Ya know, when I had my own body, I used to go on dates all the time! Women flocked to me, I was a god!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slapping a hand over the mouth that had appeared, Yuji rolled his eyes. “I’m not like you, we know this.”

“I was hoping I’d be rubbing off on you, kid, but it seems not.” Sukuna sighed in disappointment. When 6pm finally came, Yuji all but ran to the restaurant. He was still ten minutes early, and when you came strolling up the nervous jitters he had increased.

“Hi!” You looked so cute, Yuji could pass out.

“H-hey.” He waved stupidly, and then stumbled to open the door for you. Quickly grabbing a table, he was paying more attention to you than the menu.

“What’re you gonna get? I can’t decide!” You whined, slapping your menu against the table.

“Oh uhm, maybe this one?” Pointing at the first thing he saw that looked mildly interesting, he watched you nod your head and hum. “Or maybe this.” Looking at the menu properly, Yuji pointed at something he’d actually get.

“Ooooh, I wanna get that too! If you get it, will you let me try some?” Your face lit up and you bit your lip, eyes darting between things on the menu.

“Of course!” Yuji nodded without any hesitation.

“Yay! I just can’t decide, everything looks so good!”

“It does!” As he laughed and kept looking at things on the menu with you, Yuji finally let himself relax a little bit. You made great conversation, asking about his new and how he’d been, how he got those scars under his eyes and what his new school was like.

Yuji had never had so much fun talking with someone before, and when the date came to a close, he could nearly cry. He wanted to be with you all the time, see you more often and build more memories together. The thought of going back to his old school even came back.

“I’ll walk you to the station.” He said instead, pushing away all the thoughts in his head.

“Thanks.” You were side by side walking down the block, and Yuji was beginning to find it more and more coincidental that your hand kept bumping into his. He could feel you looking at him from the corner of your eye, and he knew he had to make the leap.

Slipping his hand into yours, he wound your fingers together and squeezed. Both of your palms were kind of sweaty and neither of you looked at each other, but you squeezed his hand back and held it tightly until you got to the station and your train arrived.

First kiss:

After the first date, Yuji is hooked

Any chance the two of you have to be together, he takes even if it means shirking his responsibilities a little bit(Fushiguro is upset but who can stop love?)

You go get ice cream together, go to the arcade, the movies, the park, you even meet Nobara and Fushiguro on a chance day

You do all these things together, but Yuji still hasn’t kissed you!

He wants to, so so bad, but he just can’t, he’d die of embarrazzment if he fucked up and like hit you in the head or something

But sometimes, as nike said, you just gotta do it

It’s raining again, just like when you first spoke to each other. A torrential downpour, but this time you didn’t have a friend coming with their umbrella to the front of the school to share with you. Yuji was coming to your school after your club to pick you up for an impromptu date.

“Hey!” You shouted, braving the rain and meeting him halfway when you spotted him coming up. Hugging him tightly, you shivered from the wind whipping through the air.

“Hi.” Slipping your bag from around your shoulders, Yuji slung it over his shoulder. His arm settled on your waist, holding you close and making sure you were completely covered. Walking so close together like this made him happy, and he almost pressed a kiss to your head.

“Yuji.” You said as you were walking, stopping by a low river lined with trees.

“Hm?” He still couldn’t get over the fact that you were now saying his first name. The both of you stopped walking and you stepped back a little from him, wringing your hands nervously.

“We’ve been going out for a while now and…” Biting your lip nervously, you couldn’t meet his eyes and looked out at the trees being pelted with water. “And I was wondering if you uh- if you wanted to be my boyfriend?”

Oh shit. Yuji was so shocked, he nearly dropped the umbrella.

“B-boyfriend?” He squeaked, his cheeks spreading in a bashful smile. “I’d love to.”

“Really?” Letting out a relieved sigh, you clasped a hand over your heart. “That’s good! I was so nervous.” The way you were looking at him, Yuji knew this was the perfect time to kiss you.

“C-can I kiss you?” His question made your eyes widen, and silently you nodded your head.

Sliding his foot forward on the wet pavement, Yuji faltered a few inches from your mouth, suddenly nervous. He had never kissed anyone before, and what if he was horrible at it and you hated it?

He didn’t have any time to keep thinking about it though, because you closed the gap and kissed him. Dropping his umbrella in shock, Yuji’s eyes widened and he kissed you back, grabbing your shoulder to steady himself.

It was a sweet and innocent first kiss, soft and gentle for the inexperience shared between you. It didn’t even last that long, but it was the most memorable moment of Yuji's life.

“How was that?” He asked when he pulled away. The two of you were getting absolutely soaked with the rain and it dripped down his face into his eyes and mouth.

“Great.” You giggled shyly, putting a hand on your face to hide yourself. Yuji laughed as well and gave your cheek a kiss before picking up the fallen umbrella.

“You wanna go to that ramen shop?” Yuji whispered close to your ear, adjusting your bag on his shoulder.

“Sure.” Turning to him, your eyes dropped to his lips and you gave him a quick peck, breaking out into a fit of giggles again. Beginning to walk down the street, if anyone saw the two of you, they would immediately know what young love looked liked, as it was perfectly plastered on both of your faces.

#jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuji #yuji itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

Note

The day Percival discovers sleeveless hoodies is a wonderful day for him bc then whenever someone (Leon (concerned) or Arthur (slutshaming)) yells at him to put on a sweater it's the dead of winter he can put on his sleeveless hoodie and watch the hope drain from their eyes

thank you for this ask, it is absolutely wonderful, and i'm sorry it's taken so long to get to it but i wanted to do it justice because y e s percival is the biggest shit of them all 💕

Having been around for nearly two thousand years, Merlin had remarkable instincts when it came to fashion. Well, remarkable in Percival’s eyes at least. Then again, this was the same person whom he'd witnessed rock up to court for a meeting in one of Gwen's dresses because they had been bitter about not having a good enough garb as court sorcerer. (Apparently after ten years of wearing the same thing, Merlin had been hoping for a bit of variety.) (The conversation that had followed between him, Gwen, and Leon had been very entertaining to witness.) (It had resulted in Merlin being able to keep the dress.)

Merlin had (regrettably in their eyes, thankfully in everyone else's) taken Gwaine and Lancelot out shopping, mainly so they would both stop stealing his clothes, and, when they had returned, had beckoned Percival upstairs when the rest of the group was fussing over dinner plans. When Percival had followed them upstairs, Merlin had revealed a paper bag with a dramatic flourish and handed it to Percival, who had taken one look at the contents and grinned broadly.

Percival was still grinning three months later, in the middle of December, on the verge of being about to completely destroy Leon and Arthur.

As Gwen struggled to zip up a coat with a ridiculous number of zips, Lancelot and Gwaine fought over a tartan duffel coat, and Elyan stuffed himself into a puffer jacket that matched Arthur's, Percival folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the hallway in nothing but jeans and a tank top. Merlin was shrugging on a woollen trench coat over their hoodie and Leon, having just entered after checking the back door, was informing the warlock that he hadn't yet tied the laces of their Doc Martens. Percival was just waiting for the avalanche of 'it's the middle of winter, put some more clothes on' (Leon) and 'you'll be getting your tits out next, which is something none of us want to see' (Arthur) and 'I do' (Elyan) that would come barrelling his way as soon as his attire was noticed.

Merlin flamboyantly finished securing his laces and hastily got involved in the fight going on between their partners, successfully delaying a confrontation with Percival’s naked arms for a further two minutes as Leon extracted a second duffel coat. Arthur, having perfected the art of ignoring the shenanigans of Gwaine and Lancelot over one and a half thousand years, was not so easily distracted.

'Percival’s whoring himself again!' he declared, pointing at Percival in an overtly accusatory manner.

Leon dropped the duffel coat and rounded on Percival. 'For fuck's sake, Percy, put a jumper on at least, it's three degrees outside and we're going ice skating.'

'The ice is plastic though, isn't it?' Percival challenged, quirking an eyebrow.

Now Leon rounded on Merlin. 'Do one thousand five hundred years of constant companionship really mean that little to you?'

Merlin, who had been in the middle of helping Gwaine secure the fastenings on his duffel coat, looked up. 'I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about, Leon.'

'I was doing research into ice rinks,' Gwen chimed in. 'Percy was watching Midsomer Murders in the same room and I was talking out loud.'

There was a collective murmur of confirmation at the habit of Gwen reciting an entire Wikipedia page to anyone who had the misfortune to be I the vicinity.

'I never did find out who did murder everyone,' Percival sadly said.

'Which episode was it?' asked Lancelot, who had binged an entire series with Elyan one stormy night.

'The one with the bees.'

'Oh, that one! Yeah, the murderer was--'

'Spoilers!' Percival cried.

'It's Midsomer Murders,' Elyan reasoned, shaking his head. 'It's not like Lancelot’s revealed that Darth Vader is actually Luke's father.'

Gwaine looked scandalised. 'He's what?'

'See, this is why you don't fall asleep during group movie nights,' Arthur broke in, staring pointedly at Gwaine.

'Yeah well at least I don't have a Luke Skywalker complex and almost fell in love with my sister--'

'I never loved Morgana like that, that's disgusting, I've never loved any woman but Gwen--'

'It is still three degrees outside,' Leon interrupted, voice cutting across the bubbling conflict. 'Percival, put a jumper on. Don't make me ask you again.'

Rolling his eyes, Percival stomped up the stairs in his walking boots, sending flakes of dry mud across the floorboards. 'I still say that frostbite is a hoax,' he darkly grumbled.

'Frostbite is not a hoax!'

Despite Leon's voice being joined by six other voices, Percival leaned over the bannister. He could take them all if he wanted to. 'I see your frostbite and raise you Ismere.'

'I see your exposed arms and raise you three fucking degrees,' Leon fired back.

Around Leon's body, Merlin winked at Percival, who put his hands up in mock surrender. 'Fine, fine, give me one minute.'

Leaving the others to finish wrapping up, Percival darted into his and Elyan's bedroom and plunged his hand into the paper bag Merlin had given him. Balling up the garment in his fist, he ran down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a decisive thud. Certain that all the attention was now on him, Percival unscrewed the item of clothing and maintained fierce eye contact with both Leon and Arthur as he dropped it over his head.

He slowly tightened the strings around the hood and watched in delight from his makeshift cave as Leon's face whitened, drinking in Percival’s brand-new sleeveless hoodie. 'I put on a jumper, can we go now?'

Arthur's jaw dropped. 'Leon, you can't seriously allow this--'

'Can we not have an argument about this again?' interrupted Gwen after a sharp elbow from Elyan. 'Percival has put on another layer and we're going to miss the booking--'

Arthur, however, was still indignant. 'It doesn't have sleeves. It is not a jumper.'

'Merlin, when you bought it, was it or was it not in the jumper section of whatever shop you got it from?' asked Percival, folding his still exposed arms.

'It was.'

Gwen and Elyan had glanced over their shoulders and were hurriedly trying to unlock the door. It became apparent why when Leon's voice cut sharply through the room.

'I am going to kill you, Merlin.'

'One of the drawbacks of immortality, I'm afraid,' Merlin cheerfully said, taking Lancelot’s and Gwaine’s hands and tugging them towards the door. 'It's rather difficult to kill me.'

Leon muttered something under his breath that only Percival caught. It was good to know that his arms were no longer the target of Leon's ruthless campaign.

#i don't know what happened with star wars there #i've only ever seen one film but everyone knows those spoilers right?#right?#i forgot how much i enjoyed writing the modern versions of them #and sorry it's taken so long!#percival #sleeveless percival #merlin #bbc merlin #asks #donttouchtheneednoggle #merlin fanfic

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Monsters - Seven

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (NONCON), Minor Violence, Minor Injuries Language,

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Well.........

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

You’re curled up against his side, head on his shoulder as Titanic plays on the tv. He’s got one arm around your shoulders and the other rests on your knees.

You watch intently, fingers combing gently through his hair while you watch Jack and Rose dancing below decks.

His phone dings and you lift your head curiously. When he makes no move to get it, you smile and snuggle back against him, sighing softly.

It dings again and this time he groans, reaching over to pick it up. You glance at his phone inconspicuously, frowning when you see a string of pictures of a naked woman.

He angles the phone slightly away from you and you divert your attention back to the TV, knowing he’s probably telling her he’s busy.

After a few minutes, he sets his phone down again, only to pick it up when it dings moments later.

You watch through your peripherals as his thumb swipes a passcode across the screen. For a super spy/assassin, his password is surprisingly simple.

More and more pictures of the naked woman fill his screen and you find yourself quickly getting annoyed by it. An idea pops into your mind and you grin, snuggling closer to him and dropping your hand down to his lap.

He stiffens when your palm rubs over his cock, and he quickly starts to harden beneath your touch. You look up at him innocently and he raises his eyebrows.

You push yourself up and straddle his lap, grinding down against him.

“Hi,” you whisper, lips just brushing over his cheek. He sighs softly, his free hand coming up and gripping your back. His other hand drops down to the couch, his phone still on and facing upwards. You grind your hips down harder, eyes trained on his phone as you try to make out what it says.

The contact name is ‘Natty❤️’ and there are at least six pictures of her naked.

But what really gets you, is the picture of her with a shirt on.

Because you know that shirt.

It’s Bucky’s.

You turn back to face him, determined to make him forget all about Nat.

One of your hands snakes down into his pants and you grab his cock, pumping slowly to get him harder. He moans lowly, jerking his hips up into your hand. You bit your bottom lip then climb off his lap, dropping to your knees between his legs. He watches you through hooded eyes, the phone dropped and forgotten in between the arm of the couch and one of the cushions. You unzip his pants and pull them down, eyes darkening when he kicks them off completely, his boxers following suit.

You take his cock in both of your hands and lean forward, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses on it. He watches you, his eyes dark and his chest heaving slightly. You maintain eye contact as you stick your tongue out, licking the underside of his cock and swirling around the tip.

With your mouth nice and wet and full of saliva, you slowly bring him into your mouth. The salty taste of him makes heat grow between your legs, and you can’t help but shift desperately. One of his hands comes up to your hair, not pulling, just simply resting there. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how strong and powerful he is, yet he’s been reduced to a moaning mess beneath you.

You take him down your throat, clenching your hands into fists on his thighs as you try not to gag. His hips buck up and you look up at him through your lashes, uncurling your fists and resting them on his thighs.

He groans at the sight of you and can’t help but thrust up into your mouth again. When you don’t pull away he does it a third time, then a fourth, until he’s fucking your face. You sit there and take it, struggling to pull in breaths as he uses your face for his own pleasure.

He pulls you off of his cock quickly, taking in shuddering breaths as he calms himself down.

“Don’t wanna cum in your mouth, babydoll, wanna cum in that tight pussy.” You climb onto his lap and position your dripping entrance above his cock, then slowly sink down onto it. The stretch makes you moan, and Bucky can't help but mimic the noise, the feeling of you too good to be true.

Your hands come up to his shoulders but he’s having none of that.

He grabs your wrists and pulls them behind your back, then reaches over and grabs the charging cord for his phone, binding your wrists tightly behind you. You tug on the restraints then whimper, wanting to touch the man beneath you.

“Nah, princess. None of that. Lemme fuck that pretty pussy how I want to, yeah?” You nod, pushing your knees into the couch to raise yourself slightly off of his cock. He nods, then starts hammering his hips upwards, each thrust sending a jolt of fire up your spine.

You moan loudly, eyes rolling back as he hits every sensitive spot inside of you, making the coil in your belly tighten.

“You gonna cum on my cock? Huh?” You nod, drool dripping down your chin as he fucks you stupid.

“Do it, baby. Cum. Cream all over my dick.” He reaches down, fingers toying with your clit.

That little action sends you falling over the edge, and you can’t help but moan, your orgasm nearly pulling you into unconsciousness.

Your vision gets dark and your body shakes, cunt squeezing his cock so hard that he shoots his load right into you. You collapse against his chest, panting hard and gasping for air, and he lets out a big breath, hands stroking your hair gently.

The two of you catch your breath and Bucky rips the makeshift rope off of your arms, tearing it and completely ruining it. You snuggle against him, keeping his cock locked inside of you as sleep tugs at your mind.

He kisses the top of your head then squeezes you tighter to his body. You relax even more and quickly fall into the comforting embrace of sleep.

~*~

He sits across from you at the table, munching on a piece of bacon and reading over a mission file for later in the day. You lean your chin into your hands, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watch him eat.

“What is it?” He asks, glancing up at you. You don’t answer right away, and he sets down the file, waiting for you to speak.

“I don't want you to get mad,” you begin, looking at him as innocently as you can. “I just... I wanna ask you something.” He nods, encouraging you to ask your question.

“I just... there are... I wanna look up some stuff. For us. I just... I don’t have anything to use. I don’t have a computer or a laptop or a phone.... and I really... last night opened my eyes to something that I wanna try but I wanna look it up more first.” He purses his lips for a moment, mulling it over before nodding.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. My phone’s on the counter. Bring it over here and I’ll unlock it for you.” You get up quickly and grab him his phone, excitement filling you as he hands it back to you.

You open up the Google app and plop yourself down in your chair, typing away furiously as you try to figure something out.

Bucky watches you with a small smile on his lips, loving how adorable you look. Your brows are furrowed and you’ve got your bottom lip between your teeth as you focus on whatever it is that you’re reading.

A surprising thought enters his head and he suddenly finds himself losing his appetite.

He likes the way you look on the other side of the table. He likes sitting with you and eating breakfast together. He likes the domesticity of it all. It feels... natural.

After about half an hour you set the phone down and slide it over to him with a smile, having figured out what it was that you were curious about.

He unlocks his phone, brows furrowing in confusion as he sees the open tabs full of different types of knots.

“So...?” Bucky asks, waiting for you to explain it to him. You walk over to him and sit on his lap, pushing his hair out of his face and pressing kisses along his scruff.

“I want you to tie me up again,” you whisper, lips dragging gently across the skin of his throat. He swallows hard, hands coming up to grip your waist.

“You liked that, huh?” You nod, nuzzling your face against his neck and taking a deep breath of his comforting scent.

“I really liked it,” you confess. He lets out a shuddering breath and his hands drop to your ass, squeezing tightly.

He smacks your ass once and you jump, a soft moan leaving your lips.

“You gonna let me tie you up and have my way with you? Yeah? You want that?” You nod desperately then gasp as he scoops you up in his arms and brings you upstairs to his bedroom.

“Don’t you worry sweetheart. M’gonna fuck you real good.”

~*~

Natasha approaches the house, eyes darting back down to her phone to make sure she got the address right.

She re-reads the texts, bottom lip tucked between her teeth nervously.

‘I miss you so much, baby. Come over today. And wear something sexy.’ She’d complied instantly, putting on a black lace push-up bra, a leather jacket, a pair of black stilettos, and a skirt with nothing on underneath.

She pushes the door open slowly, eyes skirting around the dark house until they rest on a small post-it note stuck to the railing of the staircase. She walks to it, shutting the door softly behind herself.

‘Through the kitchen’

She follows it, going through the kitchen and smiling when she finds another note on the door of the fridge.

‘Down the stairs.’

She walks down the flight of stairs and opens the door at the bottom, her guard raised slightly as her eyes struggle to adjust to the blackness of the basement.

She hears a step behind her and just as she’s turning around to investigate, she’s knocked to the ground, something hard hitting her head and making everything go black.

~*~

When she comes to, she’s disoriented. She feels cold and the ground beneath her is hard. There’s also a piece of cloth in her mouth, silencing any attempt at calling for help. Her arms are restrained behind her back, and her legs are bound individually around her thighs and shins, knees bent as far as they can.

She tries to close her legs, feeling far too exposed in nothing more than her skirt and bra, but finds a metal bar between her ankles keeping her legs apart.

Why is she here? Where exactly is ‘here’? She looks around frantically, wincing as her head throbs.

She quickly realizes what happened: she was ambushed while looking for Bucky. Why is a whole other question.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” She snaps her head to the sound, brows furrowing in confusion when she sees a young woman sitting on the floor across from her.

She tries to lunge at you, and you giggle when she groans. “Yeah. That handy dandy knot tying your arms together is one I learned from the king himself,” you inform, a smile on your face. She cocks her head to the side in frustration and confusion, wanting to know who you are and why you’re doing this.

“Now, I know you’re probably wondering why you’re here, right?” She doesn’t move, and you frown, snapping your fingers in front of her. “When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Are you wondering why you’re here?” The redhead nods reluctantly, and you smile.

The way your face softens and lights up looks so innocent and kind; it’s hard to believe that you’re holding her down here against her will.

“Well, I saw the pictures you were sending James.” She stiffens instantly, mind running a mile a minute trying to figure out who you are and how you’re involved with him. You nod knowingly at her reaction, your smile staying on your face but looking more psychotic with each passing moment.

“Yes. I read the texts too. You want to fuck him, you have fucked him. And I can’t blame you. But when I found out that you weren’t just fucking him to help the soldier... well... I couldn’t have that. You see, I love James.” She hates the way his name sounds on your tongue.

“You’ve been taking up far too much of his time lately. He loves me. But more than that, the soldier loves me too. They’d both be lost without me, which is why you need to be out of the way. Because with you out of the picture, I’ll have him all to myself.”

She makes a muffled noise of protest, struggling against her restraints.

You laugh, leaning forward and watching as she huffs and puffs through the gag.

“You wanna know what you’re gagged with?” You ask softly, eyes wide and dangerous. She glares daggers at you before shaking her head ‘no’.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m going to tell you anyway.” You scoot closer, almost as if you’re sharing a secret with her

“Yesterday, James was in such a hurry to fuck me, to put his fat cock right into my pussy, that he pulled my panties aside and fucked me hard. Then, after he came right inside of me, he pulled my panties back in place. And I wore them all night and all day today, getting them nice and ready for you. So every time you breathe, every time you struggle or try to talk, you’re tasting my pussy.”

The horror in her eyes makes you cackle, the sound sending a shudder down her spine.

“I love this!” You exclaim, using two fingers to push your panties farther into her mouth. She shakes her head, trying to get away, and you grab her jaw with your other hand, forcing your panties into her mouth even more.

When you decide that they’re far enough, you cradle her face gently in your hands, admiring her beauty for a moment before taking a page out of Bucky’s books. You spit right on her pretty face, grinning when she flinches.

She glares up at you, and you smile innocently, hands sliding down to tear the cups of her bra down. Her tits fall out, bouncing at the force of it, and her nipples harden in the cold air of the cellar.

“You’re pretty,” you say, eyes on her pert pink nipples. She shimmies away from you, breasts bouncing and putting on a show.

You giggle and shake your head at her, leaning down slowly while maintaining eye contact. She backs up as far as she can, heart racing in her chest when she finds herself pressed against the hard cellar wall.

You wrap your lips around her left nipple, eyes on hers as you roll it between your teeth, tongue soothing the sting. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you pull away, hand coming up and smacking her across the face.

“None of that, sweetheart. Open those pretty eyes. I want you to see what I’m going to do to you.” She obeys, only after you grip her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers, pinching hard enough to have her eyes watering.

“There you go.”

You trace your fingers up her inner thighs, and she quivers, head dropping in shame as your fingers get higher and higher.

When the tip of your middle finger brushes against her pussy she jolts away, trying to plead with you through the gag.

You grin, “you like the taste of my cunt that much? Fuck, I’ll give it to you straight from the source if you want.” That shuts her up quickly, and you wink at her, climbing between her legs and blowing cool air onto her exposed pussy.

Her hips wiggle in a futile attempt at escaping, and you can’t help but bask in the feeling of power.

One of the Avengers sits before you, bound and exposed and completely at your mercy.

You stick your tongue out and lick from her opening to her clit, smacking your lips together and nodding.

“Not bad. I can see why he liked you.” You bury your face in her cunt, eating her out with vigour like nothing she’s experienced before. Your tongue works expertly on her clit, teeth taking a turn before you suck long and hard on the bud.

A soft moan leaves her mouth, and you smile.

“You see, I’m not going to hurt you physically. No, much worse. I’m going to force you to cum over and over and over again. You’re going to see how cruel I can be. And the best part?” You glance over your shoulder and she follows your gaze, horrified as she sees the blinking red light of a camera.

“It’s going to go straight on the internet.” All the colour drains from her face and she starts thrashing again, trying to get you away from her.

You simply laugh, mouth coming back to her clit while you shove three fingers into her cunt. You fuck her hard and fast with your fingers, loving the way she tries to hold back her moans. When she finally cums, she squirts.

It splashes all over your face and makes a mess on the floor, and you pull away with a sick smile.

“Huh, never thought you’d be a squirter. But now the folks at home will know too!” You smack her pussy, giggling when she yelps. Her cheeks are flushed red and she’s panting, glossy eyes set in a heavy glare trained on your face.

You press a kiss to her cheek then grab her face and force her to look at the camera.

“You and me, Natasha,” you sneer her name, squeezing her cheeks harder and smacking her cunt twice more. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

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mudhornchronicles · 3 years

Text

strategies | javier pena

pairing: javier peña x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, guns, violence… narcos.

request by: @danniburgh

masterlist

You sit in the backseat, adjusting your tactical vest, as Steve and Javier sit in the front seat. You are currently on your way to a 1am stakeout about 45 minutes out of the main streets of Medellín, trying to collect intel on an halcón, a falcon, for Escobar. You had freshly brewed coffee in hand from that twenty-four-hour bakery you and Javier went to every time you had to stay in the office late and a basic maple donut in the other. You liked adding hazelnut flavored creamer and so did Steve, but Javier liked his coffee black and boring. No matter where he was and what he was doing, he was happy with a sugar donut, his dark roast and you by his side.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve begins. He adjusts the rear-view mirror to get a good look at you. “Martín is known to be at this club every Friday night. We are going to sit here and wait for him to leave. We’ll follow the car, and we’ll call in for backup.” Steve glances at Javier and furrows his eyebrow. He points at Javier and says, “I mean it, Peña. We quietly stay in this car and just follow. I don’t need a shootout… again.” He looks at you from the mirror and smiles. “And thank you for the coffee.”

Javier rolls his eyes at Steve and turns to look at you. “Amor, tell Murphy that I am perfectly capable of staying in this car.” You lean forward and plant a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip as always.

“Stephen, my boyfriend Javier is not capable of staying in this car and we should tie him to his seat before he lay his eyes on this guy.” You laugh and Steve laugh as Javier frowns and starts poking your side. “I’m kidding, Javi. You know I trust you with my life, my vida. Except with criminals who will be walking right in front of you.” Javier playfully rolls his eyes at you and mutters a “pinche mentirosa.”

fucking liar.

You drive another 10 minutes and park on the east side of the building, spotting Martín’s car. Steve secretly looks at you through the mirror and gives you a quick wink, you giving a nod in return. You all wait for what feels like an eternity. Javier’s jaw tightens a bit more as time goes on while Steve begins to get anxious. Steve knows this is a terrible idea and he knows just how much Javier is going to hate him and might even kill him. He lets out a breath and Javier snaps his head back at his partner.

“Alright Steve spill it. What the fuck is going on with you? You’re sweating and you’re breathing hard and it’s making me uncomfortable. The only time I get like that is when I’m fucking my girl, so… what the fuck.”

You immediately step in to defend your friend. “Javier! Steve is just nervous leave him alone.” As Javier tries to argue Steve spots your guy walking out of the club and over to his car. Before Javier can let out a yell, Steve handcuffs on Javier’s wrist to steering wheel and says, “Go ‘head smoke show. Bring his ass in.” You lean forward and give Javier a kiss on the cheek, pulling off our jacket revealing your provocative outfit underneath. You slip on your heels as Javier slaps Steve to uncuff him.

You get out of the car and it was at that moment that Javi felt his pants tighten and wished Steve want in the car. There you were wearing a skirt that came up just at the swell of your ass and a tank top that only accentuated your breasts. Javi should have known something was going to happen when you put on a wig, a completely different color than your hair, for fun. There have been countless times where the DEA had asked you to do undercover stuff and you always declined because you have seen these missions go terribly wrong. Javier never saw it coming.

He saw you walk towards the entrance and as you walked past your guy, he whistled you back towards him. He ushered his bodyguard away as he pressed you up against his car. Javier almost punched Steve when he saw you wiggle you ass into Martín’s clearly hard cock. You abruptly turned around and put your arms around Martín’s shoulders with the smile you give Javier after being fucked for 4 hours straight. You lean in and whisper something to Martín. It was probably a promise of sex with the idiot smile he had on his dumb ugly face, Javier thought. Javier kept adjusting himself as Steve laughed and placed an earphone into Javier’s ear, listening to you speak.

“Sabia que estabas aqui… Rocio me dijo que eras su mejor cliente.”

I knew you’d be here… Rocio told you that you’re her best client.”

“Si? Y que mas te dijo, hermosura?”

Yeah? And what else she tell you, beautiful?

“Tambien me dijo que te gustan tener dos mujeres la misma vez.”

She also told me that you like to have two girls at the same time.

Javier couldn’t help but think back to conversations the two of you had about have a threesome with another girl. You brought up having a second man and having Javi and him fill you up, and to your surprise, Javi agreed but he wants to test out a girl first. Your relationship with Javier wasn’t always about sex, he was quite the romantic. From fancy dinners on rooftops to street tacos on the couch, Javier always made you feel loved… but the sex was always great. And with great sex comes constant thoughts about having each other everywhere and anywhere – Javi’s current issue.

“Que, mi reina. Quieres que te haga sentir rico? Tienes una amiguita que se te antoja?”

What, my queen. You want me to make you feel good? You got a little friend you’re craving?

You give him a nod and think back to Javier… what a shock that’d be.

“Si… tengo a alguien en el carro que te quiere conocer. Te va a sorprender.”

Yeah… I have someone in the car who wants to meet you. They’ll surprise you.

Upon hearing the code, Javier and Steve smirk. “They’ll surprise you” has always been the call for backup. Steve immediately let Javier go and both go out of the car. Steve hops in the back and sits with the back of his head facing the window. Javier hides behind the car and blends into the shadows. As you walk up with Martín’s arm around your shoulders, you smile to yourself seeing them in position.

“Te presento,” you say as you open the backseat, “a Estephania.”

I present you to Stephanie.

Steve turns and smiles at Martín. Steve offers him a wave and Martín lets out a laugh. He puts his hands up in surrender and turns. Before Javi can even spring into action, you land a quick right hand on Martín’s jaw. Martín holds his jaw and lunge forward but isn’t quick enough. You immediately wrap his arm in yours, maneuver it behind him and push it upwards to dislocate his shoulder. You had to give it to him, Martín wasn’t a quitter. With a dislocated shoulder and all, he remained up on his feet an that didn’t sit right with you. You use his weight against him as you jump and straddle yourself on his shoulders.

Javi can’t seem to stop staring at the way your dress hitches higher and higher until it reaches your hips. You were thankful you were wearing cheeky underwear of your hoohah would’ve been out by now. The more you struggle with Martín trying to shake you off, the more Javi felt the absolute need to just rip those panties off you and take you on the hood of Steve’s car. He seems to be caught in a trance because she realizes just how much danger you’re in when Steve slaps the back of his head.

“Javi! What the hell is wrong with you! Stop thinking about fucking her for once and focus!”

Javi runs to Martín and tries to pry you off but you aren’t letting go as you continuously kick Martín in the sternum. Javi has enough and kicks Martín in the balls, dropping him to the floor and in turn, letting you off.

He tries to take deep breaths and looks up trying to look at you, but he’s met with a smiling Javier holding up his badge and holding him at gunpoint.

“Martín! Que raro que nos encontramos aqui, no? Ya te crees toro?”

Martin! How weird that we ran into each other here, no? You think you’re a bull now?

Martín mutter a curse and lets his head fall. Javi almost runs to smooth your dress down and pulls it the lowest it could possibly go before it sprang right back up. Martín allows himself to be put in the back with Steve and repeatedly states in a shaky voice that he isn’t talking to the cops. You tell him to keep thinking that and go to walk into the passenger seat as Javier stops you by the arm. You look at him shocked and smirk at the sight of his pained face.

“You see this?” he points to his hard cock and you smirk up him as you nod. “Once we drop his ass off, you’re putting that pretty little mouth to work. That may have been badass, but you talk a big game. Can you back it up?”

You give him a playful shove. You begin to walk away and right before you get in the car, you turn back and say, “Tread lightly, Javi, or you won’t be seeing this outfit anymore.” You wait to open the door until Javier is at the driver’s door. “Oh and Javi?”

Javier looks at you and gives you a stern look. “What?”

“I didn’t know your face got so red at seeing me on top another man. I can’t wait to see your face when another man is fuc- ”

“Get your ass in the car.”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #dee’s requests and asks #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #agent javier peña #agente javier peña #agente peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #agent pena x reader #agent javier pena x reader #agent javier pena #agente javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #agent javier pena x you

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part VII *Mature*

Summary: It’s a battle to survive and not everyone will make it.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 17,431

Rating: M - Dystopian!AU, Futuristic!AU, Language, Dark Themes: Severe Angst, Violence, Torture, Kidnapping, Traumatic Death, Blood, Life Threatening Injures, Severe Trauma, Life Changing Events, Hurt/Comfort, and a teeny bit of Fluff

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

Author’s Note: This is the final official Chapter of The Immortal Sky, I will be doing a short Epilogue to round things out though. I hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for all the love, comments and support! A super thanks to @wondersofdreaming for being a great support, listening to my crazy thoughts, giving me amazing suggestions and ideas, and just being an all around amazing friend!

You gasped, sitting up on your elbows, heart pounding and drenched in a cold sweat as the nightmare continued to dig its claws into your waking moments.

“Henry?” You called out, instinctively, before remembering he wasn't there.

Still.

Letting out a hard and shaky breath, you dropped back onto the mattress, damp from your sweat. You stared up at the ceiling, gripping the blankets in shaking fists as hot and furious tears dripped over your temples and into your hair.

“He isn't coming back.” You choked on your own snot. “They've captured and killed him, I just know it. He's died trying to protect me and there's nothing I can do to stop it. To make up for it, so his pain and death weren't in vain.” You took gasping breaths and only choked more on your tears. “I'm so sorry Henry. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You wailed, crying without abandon.

You beat your fists on the mattress, outraged at your negativity and ease of giving up on him. Henry wouldn't have given up on you, he would have stayed strong and came for you, like he had when you ran away from him in London. Jerking up, you sat on the edge of the bed, the springs of the mattress creaking under your shifting weight.

“He's still alive.” You forced yourself to say out loud. “Henry is still alive, and I will find him.”

Resolved to this conviction, you stood up and dressed, pressing his shirt to your face and took a deep breath, inhaling his earthy and masculine scent, fortifying you, before slipping it on over your own shirt and finished tying your shoelaces. You weren't completely sure what to do or how to go about finding, and potentially saving, Henry. You weren't the amazing and seasoned High Marshal Henry was, is. You tried putting yourself in his shoes, hard as it was to fill size eleven boots. So, you started in the only place that made sense to you, the Black Bone pub, where your brother and his handler were known to frequent. So, locking your room, you trekked the six blocks from the hotel to the dingy pub, heart pounding in your throat as you entered.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked you as you approached the counter.

“Um,” You looked at the stained menu taped to the bar top. “A Virgin Mojito, please.”

The bartender lifted a brow at you, shrugged his shoulders and turned away from you. A minute later, he set the tall glass in front of you and held out his hand, wanting payment. Sighing, you dug out the meager change you had and slapped it into his hand, picked up your drink and took a seat in the corner, the same corner you occupied with Henry the day before.

You tried your best to look as inconspicuous as you possibly could, keeping your eyes on the tv, like Henry had, swirling your drink with the thin black straw inside of it and checking out everyone in the room from the corner of your vision. It was slightly more busy than it had been the morning before, but there was no sign of your brother, Knox or Henry. What your inexperienced eye failed to notice, was the bartender keeping his eye on you, for several minutes, before going to the back of the store room and making a phone call.

“Yeah, Ashe. It's me, Bruce, the owner of the Black Bone. You asked me to keep an eye out for a lady.” He rattled off your description. “Told me to call if I saw her around.”

“And?” Ashe replied, staring at the black, web-like, 3-D printed cast on the hand he busted in his fight with Henry.

“She's back.” Bruce told him, stepping out of the store room and peeking around the corner, to make sure you were still there, clearly ignoring your drink. “Sitting in a booth, right now.”

“Excellent.” Ashe grinned, wolfishly. “I'll be right over, let me know if she leaves.”

Bruce hung up with Ashe and moved back to serve his new customers, keeping his eye on you the whole time. You finally took a sip of your drink, the mint was refreshing to your taste-buds with the slight twinge of the lime's tartness, when the door of the pub chimed as it opened and from the corner of your eye you saw who entered, making your blood run cold, the man from the day before, who had given Henry the creeps and chased you both down the alleyway. Your hands shook as he glanced in your direction, a faint smirk on his thin lips, you noticed the cast on his arm and drew conclusions; knowing he and Henry must have gotten into a fight. Wishing you had the bartender put the rum into your drink after all, you gulped it down and tried to get up as casually and calmly as possible, eyes darting to the lopsided and hand written sign above the bathroom door and headed that direction.

The bathroom was big enough for a discolored and filthy toilet and a teeny window above that. Locking the bathroom door, you climbed top of the toilet, wobbling on the unstable tank to peek out the cloudy windowpane. There was another alleyway behind the pub, but you couldn't see where either end of it led out too, but you weren't going back out into the bar area with Ashe there, waiting to pounce on you. The window was wedged into the frame, sticking it into place from years of hard rains and freezing winters, swelling and warping the wood. Biting your lip, you started bashing it with the heel of your hand, the wood protesting and squeaking with each blow, until it suddenly flew open.

Glancing over your shoulder to the latched door as the dented handle started to rattle, you wasted no time, jumping and diving halfway through the window, legs flailing and kicking the dingy wall. Scrambling to get a footing and wiggle the rest of the way through the window, the rough wood scraping and cutting up your sides and ripping holes into your jacket. The bathroom door started to shake, a shoulder driving into it, you knew it wouldn't be long before Ashe busted through and hauled you out of the bathroom. Growling in frustration, you kicked hard at the wall, breaking through the crumbling drywall and used it to boost yourself up more. Punching more and more holes into the wall with your feet to you wiggle and shimmy through the window.

You gasped as your hips passed through the window frame and scrambled to get a footing on the other side, before you fell face first into a pile of two week old trash. You had just managed to flip yourself as you fell out of the window, landing on your butt on top of the overstuffed black plastic bags with a grunt. The eruption of Ashe charging through the bathroom door exploded above you, followed by his flurry of curses as his head popped through the window, the only thing small enough to fit through it.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared, pushing an arm through the window with his head to try and grab at you.

You struggled to your feet and stumbled away from Ashe and the window, out of breath and bleeding. Knowing he wasn't going to get through the window, Ashe jerked back inside and stormed out of the bathroom, shoving and knocking people aside as they came to see what all the commotion was about. Not waiting around for Ashe to reach you, you bolted down the alleyway, slipping on the slimy pavement and tripping over trash, just making it to the end, when two shadows blocked the way. Startled, you tried twisting around to run the other way, but they were faster than you were, grabbing the hood of your jacket and yanked you back, making you choke in the process.

“You ain't going anywhere.” One of them huffed as you were slammed chest first into the wall, scraping the side of your face on the rough surface.

Your arms were harshly yanked behind you and hands slipped through the loops of thick black cuffs, before your captor pressed a button on the handle connecting the cuffs and they automatically tightened around your wrists, painfully cutting off circulation and into your skin. They jerked you off the wall and faced you out of the alleyway, one of them clamped a hand down on your shoulder, making you whimper in pain and try to shrink away from him, only to be struck in the side.

“You should have stayed in London.” Ashe's angry voice growled as he approached the three of you, pinching your chin between his fingers. “Or just not have been born at all.” He hissed, letting go of your head with a jerk. “Get her in the van.” He ordered the two men, hitching a thumb over his shoulder, to the van parked at the curb, its back sliding door open and waiting.

You looked up and down the sidewalk as they pushed and shoved you towards the van, frantically hoping someone would see the four of you and rush to help you, stop them for kidnapping you. But, as you looked at the full street, you noticed everyone looking everywhere but at you, not wanting to get involved, knowing doing so would land them in the same hot water you were finding yourself in. But, to your utter shock, one face did look back at you, just as stunned to see you as you were to see them.

“Michail.” You mouthed, blinking like it was just a fragment of your frantic mind. “Mikey!” You screamed out, realizing it wasn't your mind toying with you, before you were thrown into the van and the door was slammed shut behind you.

“Let's go grab a pint.” Knox said, throwing on his jacket. “Come on, Keagan, one pint won't kill you. We have a load of time before your first big run.”

Michail sighed and rubbed at his face, his back ached from hunching over the map of his first run as an Adjutant Runner for Quinn. He had been staring at it non-stop for two weeks and the run was due to happen in three days. But, Knox was right, an hour's break to enjoy a frothy pint at the pub would do him and his brain some good. So, stiffly raising from his chair, he grabbed his own jacket and followed Knox to the lift and down the four floors to the ground floor and out onto the street. They chatted about the run as they walked down to the Black Bone, Knox's usual establishment for a good pint, hammering out more details and clearing up any misunderstanding about what was to go down, once it did happen.

But, they were interrupted by a small scuffle ahead of them, near the pub.

Looking away from each other and to the altercation, they saw three sizable men roughly handling a woman, her hands tied behind her back. Michail felt the breath in his lungs freeze and his heart drop out into his stomach as he met the woman's eye, watching her mouth his name, before yelling it out.

“Mikey!”

“Issy?” He whispered back, too stunned to manage anything louder before you were manhandled into the van.

“You know that woman, Mike?” Knox asked, his eyes panning between the speeding away van and him.

“She's my sister.” Mikey replied, his mouth hanging open, shocked and speechless to not only find you in Bristol, but being carted away by those ruffians. “But, she should be back in London.” He blinked, slowly regaining himself. “What the hell is she doing here in Bristol? Do you know who those guys were?” He asked, looking at Knox.

“Only one of them.” Knox replied, narrowing his eyes. “The blond is Ashe James, he works as a free agent, working several different jobs in every Sector.”

“Why would he take my sister like that?” Mikey asked himself, deeply troubled.

“We'll find out later, let's get that pint.” Knox answered, clasping Mikey on the back and pushed him towards the pub.

Henry spit nothing, but blood, as Emilio gave him another crack punch to the face; which was multicolored and inflamed. A cut high on the bridge of his bloody nose and upper lip, his bottom lip was split and bleeding as well, blood caked in his beard and curls, as well as his chest; soaking into the fabric of his jeans. His eyes burned from the unyielding and bright lights illuminating the room. He was spent and exhausted, leaning forward with his head lulling and eyes half rolled and swollen shut. A forest of marks and box cutter cuts littered his body, partiality around the surgical site of his artificial kidney. He was more than sure every one of his ribs were broken or cracked, making him wheeze and hiss with every breath he took.

Henry wasn't sure how much more of he could take, but that didn't mean he would break.

“I don't think you have much more blood in you, mate?” Emilio huffed, shaking his throbbing hand, his fingers puffy and bruised from hitting Henry so many times. “Usually, the people I—set straight—have given up by now. But, no. Not you, you're tough. I respect that.” He said, shrugging his sore shoulders.

“To a point.” He chuckled, slapping Henry in the back of the head, making him whimper. “Why don't you tell my boss where the girl is? Then, we can let you off. But, if you don't, you'll just end up dying here.”

Henry remained quiet, he had run out of witty and smart-ass comments hours before. So, he kept his mouth shut and reserved his energy and strength to withstand their assault on him. The one saving light was the thought of you safe and sound in your room. He knew, by now, you were freaking out and panicking. There were no clocks and only one mirror that Henry knew, without a doubt, was a two way, but he could catch a glimpse of Emilio's expensive watch. He had been in the room for nearly twelve hours, all night and most of the morning.

He sighed, grimacing as he swallowed another mouthful of blood that was pooling in his mouth from his bloody nose, cut lip and the cuts on the inside of his cheeks; his stomach cramped and twisted as he swallowed it down, adding to his discomfort. His mind started to wonder, his pain was beginning to numb his battered nerve-endings, he wondered how much longer he would survive, what blow would potentially kill him.

He counted each blow.

One.

Two.

Three.

The door came flying open and Benji waltzed in, the door slamming closed behind him, as he grinned and looked chipper after getting a good night's rest, having left not long after Henry's torture started. But, he seemed overly happy, too happy, for Henry to be comfortable with, he knew something. That's when Henry's fear finally spiked and his abused body tensed and his bloodshot, blue orbs widened with panic, showing that growing ounce of fear outwardly for the first time.

“Well, Mr. Cavill, I see that you are still alive!” Benji quipped with an amused smile, grabbing the back of Henry's sweaty and bloody curls, and jerked his head back, roughly. “I am quite impressed by your stamina. I bet the ladies love it.” He teased, lowering himself to meet Henry's gaze.

“I have a surprise for you, Henry.” He cooed, menacingly, his brown eyes darkening to a black hole of evil and danger. “I'm quite sure you'll be relieved to see it.” He said softly, running a finger over the freshly bleeding cut on Henry's brow, making him hiss as heavy beads of sweat mixed into it, then straightened up.

“Bring it in!” He yelled, moving away from Henry and turned towards the two way mirror.

The door swung open again, revealing Ashe, who pressed his back against it, to keep it open, and motion into the hall for someone to come forward. Henry's shoulders fell with his face, the last bit of his strength he had draining out of him as you were shoved into the room, stumbling and almost falling if Ashe hadn't grabbed the handle of your zip cuffs and steadied you.

Your mouth dropped open seeing the pitiful and terrifying condition Henry was in, covered in blood, bruises, cuts and god knows what else. You struggled to swallow down your throbbing heart and blinked back the searing tears that burned your eyes, biting hard into your lip to keep yourself from falling apart. Henry licked his split and chapped lips and blinked slowly at you, trying to keep himself together, but not to cry, but to not lose his temper, his muscles flexing as his anger flared and surged beneath his blue and purple, blood covered skin, straining in his restraints, like a bull seeing red.

“Two very different reactions.” Benji commented, watching the pair of you through the two-way mirror. “Interesting.” He hummed, turning on the heels of his expensive dress shoes. “I've been looking for you.” He said, stepping closer to you. “Thank you for making it so easy to find and get a hold of you.”

He smiled, touching the tip of his finger to your cheek and drew a smiley face on it.

In Henry's blood.

“Release her hands.” He ordered, snapping his fingers.

“Boss, is that a good idea?” Ashe asked, hesitating with the key to your cuffs. “She's pretty cunning.”

Benji's cool broke and slapped Ashe across the face, ripping the key out of his hand and releasing the cuffs from around your wrists. “I know what she is, you moron. But, what is she going to do? They're in my house, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of my men. Even if, they managed to get out of this room, they wouldn't make it out of the hall, before we either killed or incapacitated them. So,” He smirked at you, giving you a sour taste in your mouth.

“Let's leave them be.” He chuckled, making a motion with his hand and cleared the room, other than you and Henry.

You stood frozen for several moments, unable to move as you and Henry stared at each other, your silent tears finally escaping down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Henry.” You sniffled, gulping thickly.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, groaning and gently shaking his head. He knew, he knew you had left the room to come look for him, the guilt and evidence of it was all over your face. “It's all right.” He finally replied, his voice dry and raspy. “I know you were scared.”

“I was worried.” You whimpered, slowly approaching him. “I still am.” You told him, dropping to your knees before him, looking over his battered body. “I'm sorry, Henry. I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. Least of all, you.”

Your emotions started to overwhelm you, reaching out to gently cup his face in your shaking palms and pushed up on your toes to touch your forehead to his temple. Henry frowned and nudged your face with his, trying to give you what comfort he could, while still tied to the chair. Your wet cheek smeared more blood on the both of you, as you wrapped your arms loosely around his bare waist.

“I told you to wait for me.” He whispered, meeting your damp eyes.

“I tried.” You protested, pulling back from him. “But, I-” You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“I told you, I'd come back for you.”

“How?” You snapped, incredulous. “You're tied to a fucking chair and practically bleeding to death!”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you. “I'll be fine, I just needed more time. I've done this before.” He told you, shaking his head, then regretting it.

“That doesn't make me feel any better or convince me, Henry.” You replied with a huff. “How are we going to get out of here?” You asked, lowering your voice, sure they were eavesdropping.

“I'll think of something.” Henry answered, looking around the room, but there was very little to aid you in that endeavor. “Just stay strong for me.” He added, turning his face into yours, his chapped lips brushing your ear.

“Nugget.”

Benji stood in the room adjoined to the interrogation room you and Henry were held in, watching the two of you interact and talk, when a phone started to ring. Flexing his hands, Benji turned on his men, glaring each of them in the eyes until one of them shied away from his gaze.

“Answer it, Luis.” He hissed at the smaller man. “Now!” He roared, making everyone flinch.

Luis slipped a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out his mobile, flipping it open and answering it. “Hello?” He squeaked, his voice high pitched with fright. “Um,--” He shuttered, eyes glued to Benji. “It's Monroe, Sir. He's asking about the girl, why she was nabbed this morning.” He explained, holding his phone out to Benji.

“Knox!” Benji roared into the receiver. “Why are you asking about the girl?” He demanded.

“My new Runner, they know each other.” Knox replied, cool as ice, he was used to Benji's outbursts. “We saw Ashe and the boys dragging her out of the Black Bone, she saw us too, and called out Keagan's name. When I asked how she knew him, he answered that she was his sister.”

“Her brother?” Benji said slowly, turning back to the mirror and staring at you as you huddled close to Henry. “Bring him to me, I want you here within the hour.”

“You got it, boss.” Knox replied, hanging up.

“The bubble of intrigue just keeps growing around this girl.” He said, studying you. “I love it.”

“I just got a call from headquarters.” Knox said as he approached Mikey at their table. “We need to go in, they're having a Runner meeting we need to attend to get the new details on our run in a couple days.” He explained.

“All right.” Mikey nodded, wiping the foam off his upper lip as he finished off his pint. “Are we going straight there?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep.” Knox nodded, clapping him on the back and directing him to the door, waving to the bartender as they left.

They hailed a cab to the Hernandez building, it was the tallest building in all of Bristol, showing the power, presence and money they had, running their empire of drugs and violence. The twenty minute ride there was quiet, and Knox almost felt bad for Mikey, knowing the kid had zero clue what was about to happen to him, but he wasn't sorry for the fact he was related to you, who could possibly bring down the business that kept him employed and out of the Slums.

“Mr. Hernandez is expecting us.” Knox told the receptionist at the front desk.

Nodding her head, the receptionist picked up her phone, dialed a number and waited for it to pick up. “Mr. Monroe to see you, sir.” She said, then hung up. “He'll meet you at lift number three.” She told Knox, then returned to her paperwork.

“Come on, Keagan.” Knox called, motioning Mikey to follow him.

Mikey followed him, unaware and naive to what was about to happen to him, to what was waiting for him, as the lift doors slid open and revealed Benji and Ashe. It was seeing Benji and Ashe that Mikey got a strange feeling in his stomach, but he ignored it, figuring it was just nervous jitters from meeting the most powerful man in Bristol.

“Knox.” Benji smiled at his prized Runner, then settled his cold eyes on Mikey. “Mr. Keagan, how nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much.”

“All good, I hope.” Mikey gulped.

“Of course.” Benji chuckled, motioning for the two men to step into the lift with them. “Let's go to my office to speak.” He suggested.

The ride in the lift was silent and stiff, no one speaking or moving, not even making eye contact for the several minutes the ride took, until the ding announced their arrival to the floor and the sleek metal doors slid open. Benji stepped off first, followed by Knox and Mikey, with Ashe bringing up the rear. They walked down a long hallway and Benji stopped beside a door, scanned a key card and pushed it open, motioning for Mikey to go in first, wanting to see his reaction as he entered.

Biting his lip, Mikey did as he was told, a nervous sweat breaking out on his brow as he moved into the dark room, noticing the wall length window to one side. He stopped in front of it, looking through the two way mirror and felt his jaw and heart hit the floor.

“Issy.” He gasped, seeing you pacing the bright room, then noticed the large and beaten male tied to the chair in the room as well.

His shoulders slumped as it all clicked in his head, he had been lied to too and was now as much a prisoner as you and Henry were. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and his hands started to shake, gulping several times to try and keep his composure.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked, eyes snapping to Benji as he watched Ashe lock and block the door, leaving Knox in the hallway.

“Who is that girl to you?” Benji asked, lightly tapping the glass of the mirror. “And answer truthfully.”

Mikey steeled himself. “I don't know.” He huffed, puffing out his chest.

Benji rolled his jaw and banged on the mirror, grabbing Emilio's attention. Smirking, Emilio pushed himself off the door he had been leaning against and strode over to you, startling you and making you stubble away from him.

“NO!” Henry and Mikey both screamed at the same time as Emilio grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking your head backward and making you cry out as he shoved you closer to the mirror.

“Who is she to you?” Benji asked again, slowly.

“A friend.” Mikey whimpered, clenching his fists together as he felt and saw your pain.

Benji knocked on the window again. This time, Emilio twisted you around by the hair and slammed your back up against the mirror and wrapped his meaty hand around your slender neck. Henry jerked and squirmed in his chair, roaring with madness and cursing loudly as Emilio choked you, trying desperately to break free and pull him off of you, before it was too late.

“Stop!” Henry roared, letting his anger and frustration out in a violent scream. “Let her go! Do it to me!” He begged Emilio. “Let her be!”

Mikey doubled over, his hands braced on his thighs as he gasped for air, like a goldfish out of it's tank. “Please, stop this.” He begged Benji, in a wheeze.

Benji tilted his head as he watched Mikey, watching his distress as it mirrored your own. Curiously, he banged on the mirror again and Emilio, still choking you with one hand, drove the fist of his other into your stomach, making you yelp around his hand, incapable of more as you struggled for air. Mikey stumbled back into a shelf behind him, nearly losing his footing. Benji's fingers caught the underside of Mikey's chin and jerked his head back, thick strings of drool on his lips and chin.

“Tell me who she is to you?” He hissed in his face.

“Please.” Mikey begged him, weakly.

“Tell me, and I'll make him stop.” Benji told him, his face twisted with smug malice.

Mikey whimpered, hearing you struggling and Henry's desperate protests. “She's my sister.” He broke. “My twin sister.” He admitted, weakly.

“Your twin?” Benji echoed, intrigued. “So, you feel what she feels. Does she feel what you do, I wonder.” He let go of Mikey and knocked on the mirror twice, signaling Emilio to release you, which he did, causing you to collapse to the floor. “Ashe, go in there and tell me if she feels anything from him.” He ordered, keeping his eyes on Mikey.

Nodding, Ashe left the room and entered yours and Henry's, nodding at the mirror, so Benji knew he was in position. Smiling, Benji promptly drove his knee into Mikey's stomach and looked behind him and saw Ashe smirking and chuckling to himself.

“The connection between twins.” Benji laughed, amused to all ends. “I love it. Let's have a proper little family reunion, shall we!” He declared and motioned to Luis to grab Mikey. “Bring him.” He ordered, marching out of the room. “Good news everybody!” He declared, bursting into the room with you and Henry.

“It's family time!” He laughed, as Luis shoved Mikey into the room with the two of you.

“Mikey.” You coughed and rasped, holding your bruised neck.

“Issy.” He rasped back, crawling over to you. “Where have you been?” He asked, cupping your face in his shaking hands. “We thought you were dead.”

“I went looking for you, to try and patch things up with our parents, after the fight.” You explained, fresh tears dripping down your face. “But, I was caught by the Traffickers and was held by them. Henry,” You looked up at him, still straining in the chair, his blue eyes wild. “he saved me and I've been with him the whole time.”

Mikey blinked up at Henry, then narrowed his eyes at him. “Saved you?” He echoed your words, but not your sentiments and appreciation. “The only reason a person goes into a Trafficker's warehouse, if they're not merchandise, is to buy.” He hissed, his face darkening. “You bought my sister from a fucking Trafficker. Typical Upper, buying and enslaving us just because we were born in a lower Sector than you.”

“Mikey, it wasn't like that?” You panted, shaking your head at him, desperate for him to understand.

“How can you fucking defend him!” Mikey barked, gritting his teeth at you. “Unless he's already brainwashed you, convinced you that owning you didn't make you any different than him.”

“I don't own her.” Henry growled, low in his throat.

“Is that so!”

“It is!” You barked back, regaining yourself. “He never registered me for an Ownership Bracelet. Henry's never treated me like a Slave, or even a Slummer, for that matter. He's been good to me, Mikey.” You told him, cupping his tense neck in your hands and pressed your forehead to his. “He's been helping me to find you.” You whispered to him, holding his eyes.

“He's been protecting me.” You said quieter.

“I was originally meant to follow her until you were found, then bring you both back to London.” Henry added, his eyes on you. “So, she could testify against him.” He jerked his chin at Benji. “and to turn you in for your part in the Running business. But,” He paused and sighed. “But, I changed my mind and decided to just help her bring you back home, safely. Make up some story about why I didn't bring you in, then once she testified, I was going to release her to go back home to your family.” He explained.

Mikey opened his mouth to ask why a High Marshal would bother to do something like that, when he finally felt it, a warmth that came from you, and met your eyes and saw the cause of your warmth, towards Henry. You were in love with the High Marshal, and looking to Henry, he could tell that Henry felt just as strongly about you.

“I've been a complete brainless prick.” Mikey sighed, feeling guilty, if he hadn't decided to become a Runner, then none of this would have happened, the two of you and Henry would still be safe and sound in London, going about your lives as should be.

“I'm sorry, Issy.”

“Well, you're just a stupid boy, what do you know anyway.” You huffed, smiling softly and shrugging it off.

“Well, isn't this all well and sweet.” Benji huffed pushing off the wall.

“But, we all have an issue. The three of you are a threat to my business.” He said, folding his arms. “You, High Marshal, are on the case that threatens my business. You,” He looked at Mikey. “Being a Runner, know the routes and procedures of my business, and you,” He settled his eyes on you. “Are the witness to my operations and hold the key to ruining my business in London and putting away one of my best Traffickers.”

“I can't let you live.” He said, looking at the three of you. “So, we're going to play a fun little game.” He smirked, greedy and giddy, as he rubbed his hands together. “Luis, your gun.” He ordered, holding his hand out to the other man. “Ashe draw yours as well, and Emilio, why don't you untie Mr. Cavill over there, we do out number them with people and firearms, so I doubt either of them will be stupid enough to try something.” He said, motioning Emilio towards Henry.

Obeying, Emilio removed the key to Henry's bonds from his front pocket, while Ashe had his gun trained on him, anticipating any attempt Henry, you or Mikey might make to try and be a savior. Emilio unlocked the ties around Henry's chaffed ankles, then his wrists. Henry let out a relieved sigh as the strain and tension of his shoulders and arms released, almost slumping out of the chair.

“Henry!” You gasped, dashing forward to try and catch him.

“Ah, no!” Benji barked, stopping you in your tracks. “Leave him be.” He hissed at you. “Get up, Cavill.” He demanded of Henry. “Now, or I'll start putting holes in her!”

Groaning, Henry forced himself to stand, swaying on his throbbing and injured legs and almost falling, but caught himself on the back of the chair. Assured that Henry would be able to reasonably stand, then took the gun Luis was still holding out to him, Benji removed the clip from the firearm, checking how many rounds it had, reloaded the clip and cocked the slide, securing a bullet into the chamber.

“Take it.” He snapped, holding it out to you.

“No.” You whimpered, shaking your head and taking a step away from him.

“You either take it, or I kill all three of you now, starting with the High Marshal, then your dear brother and you last, so you can watch as your brother and the man you love, die.” He threatened, with an eerie calm.

Taking a shuddering breath, you stepped forward again and, with a shaky hand, took the heavy weapon from Benji's hand. You looked at Henry and Mikey with wide and frightened eyes, visibly shaking with terror. They both looked back at you with the same fright and worry.

“So, this is our game.” Benji grinned, licking his lips, like an evil serpent. “You get to choose who dies first, and get the honor of killing them.” He told you, grinning sinisterly.

“No.” You whimpered, slowly shaking your head. “No, I can't. Please, I can't.” You begged him, trembling, and staring down at the gun, like you expected it to swallow you.

“None of you are going to leave this room alive. So, you might as well put each other out of your own misery.” Benji tried to reason with you. “Do you want them to suffer because of your selfishness?”

“Don't listen to him.” Henry snapped, drawing your attention. “You don't need to do this, just give me the gun.” He told you, reaching out a hand to you.

“He's right, Issy. You don't.” Mikey agreed, holding his own hand out. “Just give it to one of us, we'll figure this out.”

Both Henry and Mikey knew why Benji had given you the gun. You would never have considered hurting anyone, with or without the firearm; unlike Henry and Mikey, who would.

Your eyes darted back and forth between them, unsure who to give it to. What would Henry do, if you were to give him the gun? Would he manage to kill Benji, Ashe, Luis and Emilio before they could do any real damage to the three of you? What about Mikey? Did your brother even know how to use a gun? What would he do once he had it? Should you even give it to them? What if one of them turned on the other, what if Henry turned on Mikey? He had originally been sent after you to bring you back to testify and take care of Mikey, because of his involvement with Benji and Bristol. Would Mikey try to kill Henry, because he was a High Marshal, maybe try to save face and show Benji he could be trusted, to save himself, and maybe you too.

You knew neither of them would turn on you or harm you in any way. You weren't afraid of them; you were afraid for them, and what they might do if they had the gun themselves.

It took all you had not to throw up, then and there. Everyone was staring at you waiting for your decision, but you couldn't decide, you wouldn't decide. You loved Henry and you loved your brother, you would rather kill yourself than one of them; and it was as if they sensed your mind go in that direction, for both Henry and Mikey jerked towards you, startling you.

“No!” Henry hissed, his eyes wide with panic. “Don't you dare.” He panted heavily, spots in his eyes as his advanced blood loss started to take its toll on him, on top of everything else going on. “Don't you dare turn that gun on yourself.” He whispered, half begging and half ordering you.

“Listen to him, Issy.” Mikey agreed, nodding his head. “Don't harm yourself. We can figure this out.” He said, eyeballing Benji over your shoulder.

Tears dripped down your face, like a waterfall after a heavy rain, it was too much, it was all too overwhelming for you to take. Mikey looked between you and Henry, he saw the absolute terror and worry in Henry's eyes, his pupils eating away the cobalt blue and speck of brown of his irises. Your own blown out pupils doing the same as you started back at him. It was something that Mikey wasn't used to. When things became scary and too much, it had always been him that you looked to in those moments, but this time, it was Henry you were seeking comfort and protection from.

“You fucking prick!” Mikey growled, trying to lung at Benji.

“Ah ah!” Benji barked back, grabbing Luis's wrist and forcing him to point his gun at you. “If either of you try and act a hero, Luis will kill her, out right.” He warned, meeting Mikey and Henry's eyes.

Biting his lip, Mikey took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh, Benji had the three of you cornered. He was forcing you to kill one of the men you loved with your own life, while stopping Henry and Mikey from trying to save the day, by threatening to kill you, knowing they both would die to keep you safe.

What a twisted and poisonous web that was being weaved in the room. But, sooner or later, the strings of that web would start to snap and unravel, taking all of you with it.

Mikey took a hesitating step forward, his heart pounding and choked inside of his throat, his eyes daring between you, Benji and Luis. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, feeling the weight of the gun you held in that hand. The pounding pulse in your wrist drummed against Mikey's fingers, and he felt his own heart become attuned with yours. From the day the two of you came into the world, you several minutes before him, the pair of you were in sync, but as you grew older, you became less so. You had taken the right path, following the law, doing the job assigned to you, making the best of the life you had been dealt, without a complaint. While Mikey rebelled and became restless, wanting to be more, wanting the people he loved to be and have more than you already did, failing to see the wealth he already had, in you, your parents and little brother.

It was too late now to go back and fix those things, to see and cherish them properly, like Mikey now realized he should have.

The two of you synced together, heart beats the same steady, but pounding rate, breathing heavy and as one, flowing in a way that only twins could. You read his face, like it was the page of an open book and knew what he was doing. Your hand grasped the grip of the gun tighter, eyes widening and head softly shaking.

It's all right, Issy. His face and eyes said to you.

No. Your eyes begged back, blinded by collecting tears. Not like this. Don't do this. I can't live without you, Mikey.

You'll be fine, Sis.

He looked away from you, to Henry, who stood there, supporting himself on the back of the chair he had spent hours being tortured in. Henry looked back at Mikey, confused, just like everyone else in the room to what was transpiring between you, narrowing his eyes and frowning, shaking his head at Mikey, wanting to understand. But, Mikey looked back to you, squeezing your wrist and pressing his free hand to your chest.

You have the High Marshal to care for and protect you now. His eyes said to you. And he'll do a better job at it. He can give you the love, life and protection you need and deserve in life.

You shook your head at him, eyes screaming at him. Don't do this! What about our parents? Our little brother? What will I tell them? They will be crushed.

I'm no good and we both know this. Let me do this, and prove I still have some good left in me.

His hand slowly slipped down yours, gently prying your fingers from around the gun's grip, carefully taking it from you. Your hands shot out, gripping Mikey by the sleeves, one last plea for him to reconsider, to help you and Henry find a different plan and outcome, to give it a chance. But, he shook his head and took your arm in his free hand, leaned in to kiss your cheek, then gently shoved you in Henry's direction. Henry just managed to catch you before you stumbled over your feet, and himself from falling as well, blinking between you and Mikey, starting to realize what was going on.

“Mikey, n--” You started to scream as he raised the muzzle to his temple.

Henry's thick arms wrapped around you, somehow mustering the strength to hold you back as you struggled and thrashed in his embrace, trying desperately to stop what was about to happen.

A loud pop and a high pitched ringing filled your ears, muting out all other sounds that were being made, the sounds of your scream that you only knew was happening by how sore it made your throat, the warm spray of droplets against your face and neck, the world ending sight of your brother crumbling to the ground, the gun falling from his limp hand and slid across the blood covered floor, spinning under the chair at Henry's foot.

But, the chaos didn't stop there.

As Mikey hit the floor, Ashe came to life, using the distraction of Mikey's decision, to pull the gun out of his back waistband, smoothly flipping off the safety with his thumb, cocked and pointed it at Luis. All of it was in slow-motion, ears still screaming, as another pop filled the room, this time taking out Luis. Henry's body tensed up against yours as he watched Luis instinctively pull the trigger of his own weapon, the bullet whizzing towards you both. Henry wrapped his arms completely around you and threw you both down onto the floor; caging you in with his heavy and bloody body, using himself as a human shield as more muffled shots rang out.

You felt Henry's body jerk once against yours and the hot breath of him groaning against your neck, then a searing pain in your thigh, before the room went quiet and dark.

You started to come back around to the sound of Henry yelling your name, above the ringing that was still filling your ears and mind. You shook your throbbing head, feeling him pat your cheeks, trying to get you to open your eyes and respond to him.

“Can you hear me?” Henry asked, blinking down at you.

You blinked back up at him, only catching every other word he said. “A little bit.” You wheezed back, your thigh felt like an overfilled, hot water bottle as it throbbed.

“Good.” He nodded, then looked down the length of your body, just then noticing the slow puddle of blood pooling around your leg and cursed. “You've been hit.” He huffed, wrestling with his body's want to panic, but kept calm.

Spotting the tattered remains of his shirt, that Emilio had cut off, Henry grabbed it. “This is going to hurt, but, I need to control the bleeding before you lose too much.” He explained, carefully bringing your leg up, then wrapping the strip of his shirt around your thigh, just above the bullet wound, and tied it off as tightly as he could without causing any more complications.

You winced and whined as he did, gripping his bicep and digging your nails into his skin. “What happened?” You asked, out of breath, you couldn't see most of the room, Henry's body blocking your view, mostly on purpose.

“It seems, we have a friend.” Henry replied looking over his shoulder to Ashe. “We're going to get out of here.” He told you, fussing over your wound as a thin and steady stream of blood continued to flow from it, tightening his shirt more.

“We can't leave without--” You paused, remembering. “Oh god, Henry!” You gasped, it all rushed back to you.

“I know.” He frowned at you, crushed.

“We have to take him with us.”

“We can't.” Henry whispered, licking his cracked lips. “It'll slow us down.” He told you as carefully as he could. “I'll get him back for you. When we get back to London, I promise you.” He said, helping you sit up.

“Henry--” You sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck and buried your face into his sweaty and sticky chest.

“I know, love. I am so so sorry.” He whimpered in your ear, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed.

“We need to go.” Ashe's rushed voice came from the door. “Now, before the alarms go off.” He said, looking back into the hall.

He felt for you, he really did, never expecting all of this to happen, but now that it had, the three of you needed to put as many kilometers and as much time between you and Bristol as you could, because Benji's men would be coming after you in no time.

“Come on.” Henry grunted, pulling himself up to his feet and taking you with him, wrapping your arm around his neck, to support you out of the room.

Your breath caught in your throat as Henry helped you stand up, seeing Mikey's body laying there in a large pool of blood, but also Luis, Emilio and Benji's bodies as well. In the chaos of Mikey taking his own life to save you and Henry, Ashe had sprung, pulling his weapon and dispatching them in the confusion. Luis and Emilio let off several rounds from their own guns, one of them nicking Henry in the side and another going through your thigh.

“Is he on our side?” You wheezed, as you and Henry followed him down the hall.

“Yeah.” Henry nodded, shifting you against his side as you started to slip. “He's a Alpha Marshal, from London.” He explained to your questioning brow lift

“How did you not know that?” You asked him, frowning, you figured since Henry was a High Marshal, he would know all of the other Marshals.

“He finished Marshal training four years before I went in, and was recruited straight out of it to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and climb the ladder as far as he could. Seems he got as high as being Benji Hernandez's personal enforcer.” He explained, stopping as Ashe secured the hallway around the corner.

“Which is damn lucky for the two of you.” Ashe commented, coming back. “The way is clear, there's a back service lift that goes down to the garage. I have a car there we can use to get the fuck out of Bristol.”

“Let's go.” Henry nodded, antsy.

You looked back down the hall, to the still open door to the room that held all that carnage, and shuttered. Henry looked at you, feeling the shiver and frowned, reaching up to brush your hair out of your sweaty and bloody face. He couldn't understand the level of pain and anguish you must be in, after watching your brother commit suicide to save you. But, he knew that Mikey would want him to protect you and get you the hell out of there, with or without his body, and that's what Henry planned on doing.

“You can do this.” He whispered to you, blood crusted fingertips brushing your cheek. “He would want you too.” He added even softer.

“I know.” You gulped down tears, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “Let's go, before I lose my nerve.” You said, looking away from the door.

Nodding his head, you and Henry supported each other down the hall to the lift, leaning against the wall as it went down to the dark underground garage. Finding Ashe's car, he unlocked it and helped you and Henry get inside, before rushing around to the driver's side, tearing out of the garage and onto the street.

“Here.” You sighed and removed your torn and filthy jacket, revealing Henry's shirt beneath it, and took it off, seeing Henry's shiver.

“Thanks.” Henry whimpered, carefully pulling the shirt on his sore and battered torso. “How are we getting out of here, Ashe?”

“There's a gate out of this Sector that most of Benji's top men use for dealing with business outside of Bristol. I know the guard that works it, he'll let us through and keep his mouth shut.” Ashe explained, keeping his eyes on the road. “From there, I'll drop you both off at the drop location I use for sending my information into London.”

“What Sector is that in?” Henry asked, checking your makeshift tourniquet.

“Three.” Ashe replied, slowing his car down as they approached the gate he spoke about. “Let me do the talking.” He said over his shoulder, rolling his window down as a stocky male with a semi-automatic weapon approached the driver's side.

“James, it's been awhile. How have you been?” He asked, staring through the open driver's window.

“Been all right.” Ashe replied casually, as if nothing was amiss, like the two bleeding people in his backseat. “I need to run an errand outside the city, if you don't mind opening the gate and letting me through.”

“Sure thing.” the guard replied, chipper and oblivious to you and Henry, unable to see through the black tinted windows.

Stepping away from Ashe's car, the guard moved into a small booth beside the gate, turning a key and held down a large red button. The large and scuffed up gate groaned to life, screeching and protesting as it slid out of the way, revealing barren land and an uneven road on the other side. Waving back as the guard waved Ashe through the gate, he drove through, letting out a relieved breath as the gate closed behind you, everything so far going smooth.

“It's a two and half hour drive to your drop off location.” Ashe said, breaking the silence.

“That's fine.” Henry replied. “It took us nearly a week to walk here.” He added with a huff, that felt like a year ago at this point.

“What about you?” You asked Ashe. “What will you do now? Will you not come into London with us?” You inquired, interested, since his life and the long years he spent undercover in Bristol was now blown apart because of you, Henry and Mikey.

“I'm not originally from London.” Ashe replied, stiffly. “I'm from Chester. My father was killed in an accident and my mother couldn't take care of me. So, she had a smuggler bring me to London where I have a wealthy aunt. She took me in, adopted me and raised me as her own son, enabling me to have a better life. With her connections, I was able to attend the Marshal Council Academy, graduated top of my class and was recruited directly out of training to go undercover and infiltrate Bristol and the Hernandez family. I've been there ever since, running and doing whatever job Benji and his family tell me too, while sending the information back to London and half of the money I make back to my mum in Chester.”

“I've wanted to return to Chester for a long time, I haven't seen my mother, in person, since I was eight. So, I plan to go back there, after I drop the two of you off.”

“Won't they go looking for you there?” You asked, concerned for him, you had dragged so many people into this mess.

“No, as far as they know, all my family is dead.” He answered, glancing at you in the rear-view mirror. “My backstory was I was orphaned as a baby and raised on the streets of London, where I got in with Runners and came to Bristol to be more big time. So, I don't know who my parents are, let alone, know if I have any other family or where.”

“And they believed that?”

“For more than a decade.” Ashe chuckled, smiling at you.

The rest of the drive was quiet, you and Henry huddled together in the backseat, Henry's heavy head resting on your shoulder. His eyes were closed, but he didn't find any sleep, still too worked up to find it with the state you both were in. You rested your cheek on the top of his head and closed your own eyes, your head still throbbed and your leg was on fire, but had stopped bleeding so much. Both of you were worn, spent and weak, desperately needing proper medical attention and rest after everything that had happened.

“Henry?” You whispered softly into his messy curls.

“Hm?” He hummed back.

“What are we going to say, when we get back to London?” You asked him, biting your lip.

Henry sighed, picking up his head as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed his lips to your temple. That had been brewing in his mind for the last hour, trying to figure out how to explain all your injuries and absence to everyone that asked. The only person that truly knew the nature of your and Henry's disappearance was Reyes, and he didn't know what Reyes would do when the pair of you showed back up in London in the sorry state you were in, and without Mikey.

“We'll cross that road, when we get there, love.” He finally replied, kissing your temple again.

You crossed that road an hour and a half later, when Ashe pulled up to a door that had been built into the wall of Sector Three. He helped you and Henry out of the car and approached the door with you, pointing out an intercom box beside the door.

“The code is 8391, it'll ring whoever is working the door today, they'll come down and ask for credentials, tell them you're a High Marshal and you'll get all the assistance you need.” He explained to you, heading back towards his car.

“Ashe!” Henry called after him, before he could get into the car and leave. “Thank you.” He said, when Ashe turned back.

“We're Marshals, we're trained to look out for each other.” Ashe replied, nodding his head to you both and got into his car.

Henry waited until Ashe's car disappeared from sight, before limping up to the door and pressed in the code Ashe had given you. A buzzer went off and five minutes later, the door opened, revealing a Beta Marshal, who frowned between you and Henry.

“High Marshal Henry Cavill.” Henry told him, as the Beta Marshal started to open his mouth. “We require aid and you need to get a call into Supreme Commander, Dylan Reyes.” He said, grabbing your hand and pushing through the door.

“Now, Beta Marshal, before we finish bleeding to death.” Henry hissed at him, annoyed and impatient.

“Of course, sir.” the Beta Marshal squeaked, saluting Henry and showing you both to his service car. “Supreme Commander Reyes, this is Beta Marshal Grant, down at the Security Door. I have a High Marshal here, wishing to speak with you.” the Beta Marshal explained, as his call to Dylan connected over the car's speakers.

“Who would that be, Grant?” Dylan's voice asked back.

“It's me, Dylan.” Henry huffed, slumping in the seat.

“Henry!” Reyes's voice snapped in surprise. “You're alive!”

“For the time being.” Henry sighed, rubbing at his face.

“Do you have the girl and her brother?” He asked, sounding desperate and frantic.

“I have her, but not her brother.” Henry explained, glancing at you. “It's a very long story. But, right now, we both need medical attention. She's been shot in the leg and bleeding heavily and I've spent the last thirteen hours being tortured.” He revealed to his boss.

“Grant, get them both to the Marshal Council Hospital right this second and make sure they don't spare any medical intervention and assistance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander.” Grant replied, with a hard nod of his head as he started his car and directed it towards the Marshal Council Hospital, in Sector One.

“I'll be there promptly.” Reyes replied, clearly rushing out of his office for the parking garage.

So much of the tension went out of you and Henry, you were finally back in the protective and safe walls of London, no more worry about people trying to find and kill you, no more filthy and bare essential hotel rooms and days of endless walking. You were home and free, and with Henry. Now, you both just needed to get looked over and have your injuries treated, then you could go back to the comfort of your own flat.

You and Henry were rushed into the hospital, dozens of doctors and nurses swarming you both, poking this and pulling on that, asking a barrage of questions too fast for either of you to answer properly. The leg of your leggings was cut all the way to your hip as they removed Henry's ripped and blood soaked shirt to examine your gunshot wound. You screamed in pain as they pushed around it, and apologized profusely for it, and became more gentle about touching it.

“Good news is, it went through, relatively clean.” The doctor explained to you, standing beside your bed.

“The bad?” You whimpered, biting your lip as you tried preparing for it.

“The bullet nicked your great saphenous vein, it's the longest vein in the human body, running the entire length of the leg; which is what's causing a lot of your bleeding. ”

“Am..” You gulped down a hot lump of vomit trying to surge up your throat. “Am I going to lose my leg?” You asked, frightened beyond belief and wished Henry was in the same room as you, but they had separated the two of you after coming in with Beta Marshal Grant.

“No.” The doctor chuckled at you, shaking his head. “We have a procedure that will stop the bleeding and help the wound heal in no time. But, I must warn you, it is rather painful.”

“As long as I don't lose my leg, I don't care.” You told him.

You had already lost too much.

“Excellent, I'll have the nurse bring in the instruments and we'll get down to treating you.” He smiled at you, sweetly, trying to be supportive and calming. “Do you have any questions, before we get started?”

“Yes, how's Henry—the High Marshal.” You asked, correcting yourself.

“High Marshal Cavill has lost a good amount of blood.” He told you, his brow creasing with his concern. “We gave him a blood transfusion and an army load of fluids, while we treated his wounds. He has broken and cracked ribs and sternum, a broken nose, a severe concussion and very deep cuts on various parts of his body.” He explained to you, as gently as he could.

“But, he will make a full recovery. He's a tough young man, and has the best medical care London has.”

“Good.” You sigh, relieved.

The doctor smiled at you, gently resting his hand on your shoulder before leaving the room to prepare your treatment. A nurse came in a moment later, pushing a cloth covered cart, then put an IV port into your arm and hung up a bag of fluids, antibiotics and blood; since you had lost so much blood from your bullet wound. You hissed as she gingerly rotated your leg and slipped a triangular shaped pillow under your bent knee, an oval notch cut in the top of it for your knee to rest comfortable and securely, while they treated you.

She removed the cloth from the metal cart she brought in with her, and you saw what looked like a short caulking gun, a tube with a fat nozzle and two packaged patches. Picking up one of the patches, she ripped it open and dipped it in a small bowl of solution, the patch absorbed some of the liquid solution and became almost rubbery and gel-like. She moved around to your stabilized leg and gently pressed the ice cold patch to the bruised and puckered hole on the inside of your thigh, where the bullet exited, more than halfway up. You hissed as the cold gel patch touched the heated and angry skin of your thigh, whatever the solution she dipped it in stung and burned like liquid fire as it covered your wound, adhering to your skin with a firm hold.

“This will keep your wound protected, clean and sterile. It has antibodies that will recognize any infections or foreign matter and attack it, preventing your wound from going bad.” She explained to you, pressing her palm to it and held it there with firm pressure.

“And that?” You asked as she let go of the patch and picked up the caulking gun-like device and slotted the tub into it.

“This is Nanite Gel. It has antibodies in it, as well as stem cells and biological Nantes, that will start working to repair the severed muscle, skin, tendons, nerve endings and tissue inside your leg; closing the wound right up.” She replied. “The doctor will insert the nozzle into your wound and slowly draw it out, while filling it with the Gel. The patch also works as a barrier, since the projectile went through one side and out the other, preventing the Nanite Gel from squirting and leaking out.” She described to you.

“Fantastic.” You replied, with a nervous sarcasm.

You gulped with anticipation as the doctor came back in, with an additional nurse, and pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He smiled at you, took his position beside your leg, and took the injector from the first nurse. The second nurse grabbed your ankle and the top of your knee, pinning your leg down as the doctor lined up the tip of the nozzle with your uncovered and slightly bloody wound.

“Deep breath.” The doctor instructed you, taking a deep breath with you. “Ready?” He asked as the first nurse carefully dabbed at the blood with a wad of gauze at the end of a clamp, keeping your wound clean, so the doctor had an easy time guiding the nozzle in, which was easily bigger than your actual wound.

“More than I ever will be.” You replied, bracing yourself.

Nodding his head, the doctor pressed the nozzle to the opening of your wound and started to push it inside. You tensed and jerked, screaming again, but the second nurse had an iron grip on your leg, keeping it still as the doctor continued to push inside. You had strobing spots in your eyes and your jaw was so tight it felt like your teeth were going to shatter at any second. The doctor barked at the first nurse to give you twelve micrograms of Fentanyl for your pain, and she scurried out of your room and came running back a minute later with a IV syringe full of the opioid, pushing it directly into the tube of your IV. Within a couple of seconds, the painkiller washed over your whole body, like a hot comforter out of the dryer, and allowed you to relax, going slack on the bed.

“Good.” The doctor nodded, seeing and feeling you relax and finished pushing the nozzle the rest of the way in.

Shifting his hand, the doctor pressed down on the trigger of the injector and slowly drew it out again, filling the tunnel the bullet made with the blue-ish gel. You didn't feel the pain of it, but you felt the pressure in your leg. Your eyes were heavy, glazed over and half lidded, you felt absolutely nothing and you were so sluggish from the opioid that you couldn't even form words to think, it felt nice after all the trauma and hardship you had gone through in the last week.

So, you let it take you, pulling you under the crashing waves of exhaustion, pain and the high of the painkiller, your body going totally limp. It alarmed the doctor and nurses for a moment, fearing you had blacked out. But, once they checked you out and determined you had simply fallen asleep, they relaxed and finished tending to your wound, filling it with the gel, then covering it with another patch, like the other one, and lightly wrapped it with a bandage.

They left you to rest, closing the blinds over the window and turned down the lights, before softly closing the door behind them.

“How is she?” Henry asked Reyes as he came into Henry's room; he had heard your screams of pain from his room, across the hall.

“She's doing fine.” Reyes assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They treated her gunshot wound with Nanite Gel, gave her some strong pain medication and she's asleep now.”

“Good.” Henry nodded, relieved, but still wanted to see you, to be by your side.

“So, what the hell happened?” Reyes asked, pulling up a chair next Henry's bedside.

Henry started to heave a sigh, but stopped, clutching his rib-cage with an arm as his ribs screamed. “I chased after her, like I said I would. It took me nearly three days to finally catch up to her. She's crafty, in a good way. She'd make a great Marshal.” He chuckled, carefully. “I was going to bring her straight back to London to testify. But, she was dead set on finding her brother, so I went with her, figuring I'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“Get her back to London to testify and have her brother prosecuted.” Reyes nodded, understanding.

“Well, when we got there, we had no clue on how to find him.” Henry continued on, staring out his room window. “I recalled that a Beta Marshal that had been banished to Bristol for dealings with Runners and Crime Bosses. Ramsey Kellan. We found him in Sector Fifteen and he gave us the information we needed.” He rubbed the side of his face, he really wished he could just take a nap, but continued to fill Reyes in.

“Somewhere along that time frame, we were outed as being in Bristol, and looking for her brother.”

“Over a decade as an undercover, and your first blown cover happens with the girl.” Reyes laughed, greatly amused.

“Yeah.” Henry frowned, not finding it funny, if his cover with you hadn't been blown, so much of this wouldn't have happened. “As I said, our cover got blown in a pub in Sector Three of Bristol. Benji Hernandez sent his best guy to track us down there. I was able to get us out of the pub and down an alleyway, where I boosted her over a wall, to keep her safe, and faced the guy. We fought, he tazed the fuck out of me, and the next thing I knew, I'm waking up in a bright room, cuffed hand and foot to a chair.”

“They tried beating and reasoning me into telling where she was, but I refused.”

“Where was she, when this was going on?”

“The hotel room we got before going to the pub.” Henry replied with a sigh.

“But, she was clearly found.” Reyes pointed out. “How?”

“I told her I would return in an hour. When I hadn't returned by morning, she got worried and decided to try and find me. Which ended up with Benji's men, who had been keeping an eye out for her, capturing her and bringing her in.”

“And the brother?” Reyes pushed, leaning forward, his elbows pressed to his thighs.

“They saw each other as she was being thrown in a van to be taken to Benji. His handler, Knox Monroe, had found out that they were siblings and outed him, and he ended up in the room with us.” Henry replied, gingerly shifting to find a more comfortable position.

“So, where is Keagan?”

“Dead.” Henry replied, bluntly. “Benji gave her a gun and forced her to decide which one of us would die first.”

“She killed her own brother?” Reyes asked, stunned and gobsmacked.

“No.” Henry shook his head, the image still burned in his mind. “She couldn't do it. She wouldn't choose either of us, she almost turned it on herself. Before, Michail managed to take the gun from her.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the image out his mind, the sound of your screams as you were forced to watch.

“He took his own life, so she didn't have to choose.”

“And Hernandez allowed the pair of you to leave afterwards?”

“No, I'm sure he would have forced either her or I to kill the other, then kill the last one himself.” Henry answered, opening his eyes again.

“Then, how did the two of you make it out?” Reyes asked, tilting his head at Henry.

Henry looked at Reyes. “Do you know Alpha Marshal Ashe James?” He asked, his eyes scrutinizing his boss.

“I do.” Reyes nodded back, his brows drawing together. “My predecessor, Eric Banner, told me, when I took over his position, when he retired, that he had a man on the inside of Bristol and to expect his reports regularly.”

“He was the one that saved our asses.” Henry explained with a sigh. “He was the one that stunned me in the alleyway. When Mikey killed himself, Ashe took the opportunity to pull his weapon and dispatched Benji and his men.”

Reyes blinked at Henry. “Are you telling me that Hernandez is dead?”

“I am. Unless, there's some way Nanite Gel can repair a hole in the brain.” He replied, with slight sarcasm. “Which I know there's not. So, he's now out of the way.”

“This is great.” Reyes grinned at Henry. “That'll be a massive blow to the Hernandez family, their operations and Bristol. Especially, when she's healthy enough to testify against Twist and his trafficking business.”

“It will be.” Henry agreed, but the only thing he was concerned with was the two of you getting well again. “I'm guessing, they'll be postponing the trial for a few weeks.”

“I still have to call the Cleric and Royal Councils and report everything that's gone down. But, I'm sure they'll delay the trial, for at least, a month.”

“Good, I want to take care of her first.” Henry added, nodding and relieved.

Reyes frowned at Henry and leaned back in his chair. “What is it between the two of you?” He asked, he had the suspicious feeling in his gut about the two of you for a while, but had only just had the time and place to ask.

Henry's cheeks warmed slightly and glanced away from Reyes, making his boss laugh out loud, seeing it in Henry's body language.

“You're in love with her.” He blurted out, tickled at the notion. “The great Upper, Henry Cavill, is in love with a Slummer, that's meant to be his Servant and Slave.”

“She's not my Slave! And, don't fucking call her a Slummer, either.” Henry roared, huffing angrily through his nose, like a bull about to charge. “I never registered her, and I never will register her, either.”

“Oh, I know you never registered her for an Ownership Bracelet, Henry.” Dylan continued to chuckle at his friend. “I checked and I got a copy of the paperwork you both filled out for her Life Pin.”

“And, you didn't say anything?” Henry asked, surprised.

“Not my business what you do with your private life, Hank.” He replied with a sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, you pressed me into buying her.” He hissed back, eyes wide.

“I did.” Reyes nodded, pressing his lips together. “We needed the paperwork, a trail to link Twist to trafficking, and to Benji. What you did, or didn't, do with her outside of that, was purely on you, and her.” He confessed, running a hand through his short black hair.

“I was also hoping you'd find a lover or mate.” He added, clearing his throat.

“You were what?” Henry barked, taken aback.

“I should let you rest.” Dylan sighed, getting up, then carefully rested his hand on Henry's shoulder. “It's good to have you back, and alive. You did good, taking care of her and everything else. Take all the time you need to recover, the Council will be here, when you're ready to get back into it.”

“Thanks, Dylan.” Henry replied, giving him a respectful nod of his head, still brewing on what he said.

“Do you want me to call your family?” Reyes asked as he stopped at Henry's door.

“No, I'll call them, when I'm ready.” He shook his head, feeling that new wave of stress hit him. “Last time you called them about me being in the hospital, I almost died, and ended up needing a kidney replacement.”

“Fair enough.” Reyes laughed, and saw himself out.

A day later, Henry slowly limped into your hospital room, across the hall from his, and found you sitting up in bed, eyes glued to the tv and eating a jell-o cup. Your eyes shot over to Henry as he came in, setting your cup down and turned off the tv, relieved to finally see him. The two of you had only been given random updates on each other through your shared nurse, who also, gratefully, passed messages between you as well.

“Henry, should you be out of bed?” You asked as he stopped at your bedside.

“Well, I wasn't the one shot in the leg.” He chuckled and grinned at you, before leaning in to kiss you. “I just had to see you for myself.” He confessed, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“How are you feeling?”

You took a deep breath, tilting your head into his hand. “Like I got shot in the leg.” You chuckled back at him.

“Other than that, Nugget.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I feel fine. Sore, but fine.” You assured him with a nod. “How about you, Puppy?” You asked, looking him over in his hospital gown, a warm and playful smile spreading across your lips.

“Same. Sore and ready to go home.” He smiled back, his stomach full of butterflies.

“I'm ready to go home too.” You concurred with him, sighing at the thought.

The butterflies in Henry's stomach wilted and died, a nauseous, heart-shaped lump forming in his tight throat, hearing you wanted to go home. His shoulders dropped, trying to get a hold on his heartbreak, before you saw it and had your mood ruined.

“You know what I've missed about it?” You asked, looking up at him, just as he managed to hide his disappointment.

“What?” He replied, pained.

“Kal.” You chuckled at him, oblivious, until you saw his shocked face. “What? You think I would miss you, when we've been together practically the whole time?” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“No.” Henry squeaked, confused and relieved at the same time. “I just thought..” He paused, looking away from you.

“You just what, Hen?” You frowned at him, seeing his face and became worried. “Henry, sit down.” You ordered him, becoming concerned for him as you put down the arm rail, so he could sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Tell me.” You whispered, gingerly wrapping an arm around his waist.

“I thought you were talking about going back to your family's home.” He whispered, faintly. “When you said you were ready to go back home, and that you missed them.”

“Well, I do miss them, Henry.” You told him, pressing your cheek to his bruised and nicked shoulder. “I would love to see them again. But, I wanna stay with you.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Unless, you don't want me too?”

“I do want you too.” He replied, quickly. “I love you and I want to be with you. I want you to come home and stay with me.” He confessed to you, nosing the hair at the top of your head. “And, Kal.” He added, softly.

“Your place has become more of a home to me, than my parents' place has ever been.” You told him, honestly.

You had grown a lot in the time you shared with Henry, and a lot had also changed you. You didn't get kidnapped in your own city, imprisoned in a pitch black and freezing cold cell, either not fed or fed food crawling with unmentionables, cut off from most contact with people, other than the traffickers that had put you there, when they dragged you out for another line up for another snobbish, stuck up and entitled Upper, or to beat you into submission, without something changing you.

You still had nightmares about being in that cell.

You also changed from all the things Henry exposed you too. New foods, tv shows and the luxury of being in the upper Sectors of London, like taking you to that Royal Dinner party with his family. Henry had taken the mostly naive and sheltered Slummer and opened the world up to you. You would always appreciate and love him for that, and for taking care of you and protecting you through the long months after saving you from Twist.

Henry and Kal had become your new home, and the three of you had made a new family.

“I love you, Henry Cavill, and nothing will ever stop or prevent that.” You told him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“So, you'll come back home with me?” He asked, looking down at you, hopeful.

“I don't want to be anywhere else.” You replied, smiling back at him.

Henry's face broke out into a smile and cupped your face in his hands. “Neither do I.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours and kissed you.

“Henry!” A frantic voice came from across the hall.

“Mum!” Henry called back, breaking away from you. “Mum, over here.” He yelled out, limping to your room door as his mother rushed out of his empty room.

“Oh, thank god, Henry!” She cried, rushing him and throwing her arms around him.

“Easy, Mum.” He winced, but hugged her back. “How did you know I was here?” He asked, he hadn't gotten around to calling her and his family yet.

“A report came across my desk about you being injured in the line of duty with a Slummer, and that you were still recuperating here in the hospital. I was afraid it was serious, when you hadn't called me to tell me you were all right.” Marianne explained, shaking her head at her son. “What were you doing with some Slummer that caused you to get so hurt?” She demanded, upset.

“I hope they get the punishment they deserve for getting you into such danger.”

“Mum.” Henry snapped eyes wide and looked back at you.

Marianne blinked and looked into your room, seeing your sheepish and hurt expression, then looked up at Henry. “She's a Slummer?” She asked him, surprised, as she recognized you.

Henry took a deep breath, biting his lip. “We need to talk.” He said, stepping aside, so Marianne could enter your room and followed her, closing the door behind him.

“What's going on?” She asked, taking a seat as Henry sat back down on the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his.

“Several months ago, I was undercover in Sector Thirty-One. I was tasked with infiltrating a trafficking warehouse run by one of Benji Hernandez's men. I did so, with my usual skill and process, but after finally getting an appointment with the guy and seeing the people that had been imprisoned there, Dylan told me I had to—make a purchase—to nail the traffickers and for them to get properly arrested and prosecuted by the Councils.” He explained to her.

“One of the people they had kidnapped and had for sale, was her.” He said and looked at you, giving you a soft and loving smile. “So, I purchased her, and was meant to take care of her, until the trial happened and she testified.”

“So, you bought a Slum-”

“Don't call her that.” Henry hissed, angrily, but recalled himself. “Don't call her that.” He repeated, calmer.

Marianne took a deep breath, glaring at her son. “So, you bought her, in a sting operation, took her home and acted like none of this happened, taking her to events and other functions.” She summed up, studying the two of you. “When she is, technically, your Slave.”

“Yes. But, I don't and didn't want her as a Slave. That's why I never registered her for a Bracelet.” Henry replied, licking his lips.

“So, how did the two of you end up in Bristol, of all places?” She asked, looking between you.

“I ran away, to find my brother, who got himself into a situation, as a Runner, in Bristol.” You answered, before Henry could. “I wanted to go there to try and convince him to come back home. I didn't expect Henry to come after me, when he found out where I went.”

“But,” Henry sighed and bit his lip. “I did. I was worried about her safety, and Dylan asked me, unofficially, to bring her and her brother back here. So, she could testify at the trial and her brother could face justice for his hand in the whole thing.”

Marianne looked at you, her expression stern. “And where is your criminal brother?” She asked, stiffly.

You gulped and licked your lips, staring at your covered legs and picked at the fuzz on your blanket. “He's dead.” You whispered, choking up and tears filling your eyes. “He gave his life, so Henry and I could live and get away from Benji and his men.” You blubbered, crushed.

“Sshh.” Henry hushed you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you against him.

Marianne blinked between the two of you, taken aback.

“They tried torturing her location out of me, that's why I'm so injured. They wanted to kill her to stop the trial against Twist and their operations. I refused, for obvious reasons. She tried to save me, but got caught. When they realized her twin brother was her sibling, they brought him in as well. He died for us, and she got shot in the leg during the escape. Another undercover Marshal helped us get away and back here, to London.” Henry finished explaining to his mother.

“That's what happened.” He sighed, his eyes still on you.

“You're in love.” Marianne blurted out, seeing it as plain as day now.

“Yes.” Henry nodded, looking up at her. “I don't care that she was born in the lower Sectors, mum. I love her, with my heart and soul, and she loves me.”

“I do.” You replied, gulping down your tears and clinging onto him.

Marianne sighed and pressed her lips together, she had waited, a long time, for Henry to finally find someone to fall in love with and share his life. He was the last of the five Cavill boys to find love, settle down and start a family. If she was honest, she didn't care about what social standing the girl he fell in love with was, as long as he was happy, and by the looks of it, you and Henry were more than happy and in love with each other.

“All right.” She whispered softly, nodding her head. “I approve.”

Henry lifted his head and blinked at his mother. “Really?” He asked, shocked to hear it. “You don't care that she's from the lower Sectors?”

“Honestly, Henry? No.” She replied, sighing and shaking her head. “Love is love, and nothing is stronger than true love, not even differing social status.” She told him, honestly. “But, you both know that if, and when, people find out about it, there will be issues. They'll gossip and make comments, some might even turn away from you, shunning you for being with a Sl—someone of a lower standing.” She said, looking between the two of you with an authority of a Royal.

“Do you think you both, and your love, can survive that?”

You and Henry looked at each other, a silent conversation happening between you, before Henry looked back to his mother. “Yes.” He answered, firmly.

The two of you had gone through a lot worse than people talking behind your backs and shunning you.

“All right then.” Marianne replied, standing up. “Then, you have my, and no doubt the rest of the family's, approval, respect and support in the choice of your relationship.” She approached the bed, hugging Henry and kissing his cheek, then turned towards you.

You gulped at her, like a mouse getting stared down by a hungry cat, before she leaned in and hugged you as well; you were surprised by her move, but gave her a hug back. Breaking the hug, Marianne left the room, leaving you alone with Henry again.

“That went incredibly better than I thought it would.” Henry commented, finally breaking the silence in the room.

“You can say that again.” You agreed with him, staring at the open door of your room. “What do we do now, Henry?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Now, Nugget.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “We get you well enough to go home.” He said, squeezing you against him.

Four days later, with the help of some crutches, you left the hospital with Henry, going back to his flat in Sector Two. Kal was over the moon to see you guys again, Charlie having dropped him off at the flat that morning. Henry had body block the Akita to keep him from knocking you over and harming you, until you were able to sit down on the couch and he was allowed to greet you; pressing himself against you and licking at your face.

“Yes, yes!” You laughed, hugging his thick neck, trying to calm him down. “We missed you too, Bear. We missed you just as much.” You told him, kissing his face back and giving him scratches.

After getting settled back in, Henry carefully picked you up, making you laugh as he did.

“Where are we going, Henry?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you through the flat.

“We are both absolutely filthy and need a proper shower.” He told you, going into the bathroom and setting you down on the sink counter. “Lucy!” He called out, looking up.

“Yes, Mr. Cavill?” His flat's AI replied.

“Start the shower on preset two, please.” He said, pulling off the clothing his mother had brought him, before you both left the hospital.

“Right away, sir.” Lucy replied, and the shower came to life.

“Here, let me help.” He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head.

“Thanks.” You smiled, then eased off the counter, balancing on your good leg and grasping Henry's forearm.

Marianne had even been kind enough to bring you clothes as well. So, Henry's hands dropped to the ties of your loose sweatpants and untied the knot, pushing them down your hips to pool around your bare feet. You half limped and half hopped under the spray of the hot shower head, making you moan and groan as it cascaded over your battered and sore body. Henry chuckled and stepped in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your wet hair.

“I love you, so very much.” He whispered to you. “I'm glad you came back with me.” He added, even softer.

You turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his hips. “I love you too, Henry, and I don't want to be anywhere that you're not.”

“Neither do I.” He replied, kissing you gently on the lips.

Dried blood, dirt and grim swirled around the shower drain as you and Henry helped clean each other off. You scrubbed his skin with an exfoliating sponge, careful of his cuts and stitches, as he washed your hair, then switched, Henry washing you as you washed his hair.

“There's almost no better feeling than that shower clean feel.” You said, limping into Henry's bedroom and snagged one of his shirts out of his closet, slipping it over your head. “It's such a euphoric feeling.”

“What feels better than that?” Henry asked, coming in after you and pulling on a loose pair of pajama bottoms.

You smirked up at Henry, impishly. “I think you know.” You chuckled at him.

Henry laughed, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, tenderly, but passionately on the lips. “I agree with that.” He said against your lips. “But, you know what else feels euphoric?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Tell me?” You giggled at him.

“A nap in that bed.” He said, pointing to his bed.

“Oh yes.” You agreed, biting your lip and staring at it. “The clean and divine smelling sheets, the warm and cloud-like mattress and pillows.”

“It's an orgasm in itself.” Henry cooed, staring at his bed with a wanting lust.

“I vote we sleep in it for the next year.” You said, looking up at him.

“I vote, the next decade.” He added, looking down at you.

“Deal.”

Henry scoped you up, carrying you to bed, and laid down with you. Cocooned under the soft and clean sheets, both of you moaned, as you melted into the mattress, like warm butter. You snuggled together, wrapped in each other's arms, and almost sound asleep the moment everything settled in around you.

“Lucy, go to night mode.” Henry mumbled, his body feeling like a ton of rocks, he was so tired.

“Yes, sir.” Lucy whispered back.

Everything went dark, heavy drapes closed over the windows, the lights went out, the doors locked and the air purifier went on, with the soothing sound of ocean waves filling the bedroom, and you and Henry were out cold within minutes.

You slept the rest of the day and well into the next, only getting up because your stomachs were growling for food and your bladders were screaming for release, then you both crawled back into bed and slept even longer. Henry was the first one to officially wake up from your long and deserved hibernation, he laid in bed with you, stroking your hair and the nap of your neck. He traced your face, placing delicate kisses to your eyes, between your brows, the tip of your nose, both cheeks and finally, softly, to your lips.

“Henry.” You whispered, a smile tugging on your lips, before your eyes fluttered open and met his sparkling blues.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He asked, the tip of his finger ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Warm, content and happy.” You answered, snuggling in closer to him and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “You?”

“The same.” Henry replied, nuzzling your hair. “We should go see your parents.” He said suddenly, biting the inside corner of his lip. “They deserve to know.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead to his chest. You had been trying to avoid this, avoiding telling your parents that you had been kidnapped and sold by traffickers, to the man you were now madly in love with, and that their son was dead, having killed himself in the pursuit of saving you and Henry from the same outcome.

How do you tell them that? You asked yourself.

“I don't know how.” You mewled, squeezing his thick bicep, like it was a lifeline.

Henry frowned into your hair, stroking the small of your back. “With honesty.” He whispered back, his heart hurting for you.

You stood in front of the door to your family's flat and it felt alien, you didn't feel the familiar nostalgia of coming home, of seeing your family after a grueling and mindless fifteen hour shift at the supermarket. It felt like you were there for the very first time, as if you had never been there before and didn't belong. You could hear the noise inside the flat, your brother running around the place, playing with his toys.

Henry rested his hand on the small of your back and gave you an encouraging smile. Biting your lip, you mustered the courage to knock on the door, it didn't feel right to enter the pin and walk in. You fidgeted as you waited for the door to be open, absentmindedly rubbing your thigh as it throbbed with even the slightest bit of your weight on it.

Finally the door ripped open and Christophe looked at Henry first, his eyes growing with shock, then looked to you, where his face lit up with surprise.

“Issy!” He shouted, and launched at you.

“Fuck.” You snapped, catching him in your arms as Henry caught you in his, keeping you both from tumbling to the floor. “Easy, Christophe. I don't need any more injuries.” You tried to scold him, but only ended up laughing at him as he hung from his arms around your neck, feet dangling.

“Where have you been, Issy!” He demanded, letting go of you and looking between you and Henry. “Who's this?”

“Is mum and dad home, Chris?” You asked, smiling down at him, nervously ruffling his hair.

“Yeah!” Christophe nodded and rushed back into the flat. “Mummy! Dad! Issy's back!” He screamed running around the house.

You looked to Henry and took a deep breath, shoulders rising, rolled your eyes, and stepped into the flat. Henry followed behind you, as your parents rushed into the living room, hot on each other's heels.

“Oh my god!” Your mother gasped and scrambled to you.

“Easy.” You warned her, unable to take a second person jumping you, and motioned to your leg as she lifted a brow at you.

“What's happened to you?” Your father asked, blinking at your wrapped thigh.

“I was shot.” You sighed, figuring it was best to be open and honest, and not sugar coat too many things.

“What?” They both roared, horrified.

“You might want to sit down.” You said, motioning towards the sofas.

Looking at each other, your parents shooed Christophe back to his room and sat down on one couch while you and Henry sat on the love-seat, across from them. There was a long, and awkward, silence, before any of your spoke.

“I'm sorry, I've been gone for so long.” You started, squeezing Henry's hand for support and comfort. “There's been a lot going on, and I didn't, we didn't want to risk your, or Christophe's, safety.” You tried to explain the best you could.

“What are you talking about?” Your father frowned, shaking his head at you and Henry.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, you came out with it. “After I went looking for Mikey, that day, I was tricked and taken by a group of Traffickers in Sector Thirty-One. I spent several months in their warehouse, I don't want to go into details, I think that's best.”

“Of course.” Your mother nodded, clutching your father's hand.

“Henry here, is a High Marshal with the Marshal Council.” You introduced him. “He was undercover, trying to get information on the people running the trafficking warehouse, when he—uh—“ You gulped hard.

“He purchased me from them.”

“You what?” Your father hissed at Henry.

“It was part of his job, papa.” You cut him off, before his temper flared too much. “He had to do it for paperwork and other Council stuff. After he did that, he took me back to his place in Sector Two.”

“Is that where you've been this whole time?” Your father asked, his eyes narrowed angrily at Henry.

“It is.”

“And you couldn't contact us?” Your mother asked, upset. “Sent us something to tell us you were alive and all right?”

“She wanted too, many times.” Henry finally spoke up. “But, her life was in serious danger, and if she contacted anyone close to her, like yourselves, you would have been in grave danger as well. So, we didn't contact you for that reason.” He explained to them, hoping to ease that conflict.

“And how did you get shot?” Your father asked, still angry.

“I found out where Mikey was going.” You answered, quietly. “He was heading to Bristol, to advance his training as a Runner.” You gulped and looked up at Henry. “I ran away from Henry, and went to Bristol, trying to find him. I knew he was going to be in a load of trouble and I wanted to try and prevent that; to make him come home.” You explained to them, starting to shake.

Henry wrapped an arm around you and hugged you against him. “You can do this.” He whispered into your ear, gently.

Nodding and clearing your throat, you continued. “Henry came after me, trying to get me to return to London with him.”

“But, she wouldn't come back without Mikey.” He added, nodding his head at you, his eyes only on you. “I was meant to bring her back, so she could testify against her captors. But, I was also meant to bring Michail in, for his part in the Running business.”

“When we got to Bristol and started looking for him, people were looking for me, and they found us.” You picked up the narrative. “They took Henry after he made sure I was out of the way and safe. They hurt him.” You said, looking at his still bruised and cut up face. “I tried to go after him, but they got me as well.”

“While all that was going on, they somehow found out that Mikey and I were related and brought him in as well, locking us all in the same room.”

You stopped talking, trying to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed and turning into a sobbing mess. Your parents sat there for a long time, watching you try to control yourself and got the feeling something very bad had happened, worse than everything you were telling them.

“Where is Michail?” Your mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“He's-�� You licked your lips and shook your head, unable to get it out of your mouth.

“I am sorry to inform you both.” Henry replied for you. “But, Michail didn't make it.” He said gently, using his High Marshal voice, the only way he knew how to say it to your grieving parents.

“They were forcing me to decide which of the three of us would go first.” You sobbed, shaking. “Mikey made the choice to take his own life, so we could live.”

Your mother wailed and threw herself on your father, howling and sobbing, screaming at the top of her lungs about the loss of her beautiful and precious boy. You sat there with Henry, clinging onto him and wincing at each terrible and heartbreaking cry your mother made into your father's neck. Your father sat there, stoically, but silently crying as he held her and rocked back and forth.

“I'm sorry.” You whined at them, drained. “I tried. I tried so hard to bring him back.” You mewled at them, crushed.

Your father's eyes were on Henry as they both comforted the women they loved. “And you, what do you get in all this?” He asked, suspicious. “You bought my daughter, are you going to keep her from her family, still?”

“No, sir.” Henry replied, frowning back at him. “I love your daughter. I have treated her as my equal from the moment I saw her, and she will always be my equal. I don't want her as a Slave or a Servant.” He looked at you and wiped your tears away.

“I just want her.” He whispered, smiling gently at you. “Forever and always.”

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