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marvelmando · 5 years

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tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - seven

notes: updating rather quickly because i felt bad about the cliffhanger :) i really enjoy y’all’s feedback, so hit me up!!

contains: discussions of mental illness, angst

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3.1k

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SEVERAL HOURS OF WAITING ON THE ROOF HAD PASSED BEFORE LOGAN SHOWED UP. Marin had stopped crying at some point, eventually began to breathe evenly despite the sharp pain pounding in her ribs every time she inhaled. Her wrist started to throb again and the skin was blooming with dark purple and blue bruises, growing yellow from the swelling.

Getting on the jet and walking back into the Institute was a haze; the last thing she remembered was climbing into her old bed and sinking her face into her pillow. She cried herself to sleep.

She barely got three hours of nightmare-plagued sleep before a pounding at her door woke her up. Without waiting for a response, her door flew open. Lucy was there, storming into her room, eyes quite literally on fire.

"Where the hell were you, Marin Frost?!" Lucy bellowed, flames erupting on her skin.

Despite the growing temperature of the room, Marin felt numb. She shrugged, laying her head back down and pulling her knees into her chest, burrowing into her comforter.

"Answer me!" Lucy continued shouting, to no avail. Eventually, she gave up and stomped right back out of Marin's room in a blaze of heated fury.

Only a minute or two had passed before someone knocked on her door again, except this time, it was gentler. Marin didn't bother looking up to know that it was James, Lucy's boyfriend.

"Marin," James said kindly, but Marin only screwed her eyes shut. James sighed. "Marin, we don't know exactly what happened that morning, but we understand why you left. Even if we aren't really showing it." He paused, presumably giving her the opportunity to speak. She didn't. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find us."

Marin was glad for James' respect, enough for him not to take a look into Marin's mind and find out for himself. She didn't move as she heard his footsteps recede, or when the door clicked shut behind him. She counted to ten before throwing the covers off of her.

She walked numbly into her bathroom, grabbed the plastic cup she kept on the sink and filled it with water from the tap. She guzzled down three cups before the ringing in her head finally stopped. She raised her eyes to the mirror above the sink.

The first thing she noticed was the large bruise on her cheek, slowly fading as the water she drank stitched together the broken blood vessels. Her eyes were tired, the dark brown of her irises dull and lifeless, and the delicately thin skin under them purplish-black with fatigue and stress. Her cheeks were hollowed, jaw pronounced by sunken jowls. She looked like shit. But at least her wrist didn't hurt anymore.

"Marin, please see me in my office." Professor Xavier's voice echoed between her ears, inducing a long-awaiting migraine and reactivating the tinnitus ringing. Chugging another cup of water for courage, Marin left her room, not bothering to put on a pair of shoes or socks.

It was early enough in the morning that the halls were nearly void of students, but the ones that did pass her gave her looks.

Marin felt a strong wave of déjà-vu as she pushed open the wooden door that separated Charles' office from the main hall.

Marin noticed Charles sitting in his hovering wheelchair by the window this time, eyes glazed and staring out at the bright green front lawn. Marin took the seat farthest from him, remembering the last time she visited his office.

"Did you know that I cannot read your mind?" Charles suddenly said, unprompted. Marin's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Then why can you speak to me in my mind?"

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I should clarify that—it is not that I can't access your mind, I just simply can't access your memories."

Marin's eyes followed him as he moved behind her and to her other side, stopping his wheelchair barely a foot away from her chair.

"Which is why I had no other choice but to believe that you were the cause of your parents' deaths."

Marin tensed, waiting for him to lash out, or something equally as terrifying. But he never did. "I must tell you something, Miss Frost—a confession that has haunted me since I first made the decision to erase any recollection of you having other powers besides your hydrokinesis."

Marin blinked at him. "You what?"

Charles cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning, yes?" Marin just stared at him, and he took her reaction as an ‘okay’.

"Your grandmother was a mutant, Marin." What a hell of a way to break the ice, Professor. "She harnessed the ability to manipulate energy, from what research I could gather. However, she hadn't discovered her powers until long after she gave birth to her son, Jamie—your father—out of wedlock. Your grandfather wasn't an option for your grandmother, and, unable to raise a child on her own, she surrendered him to an orphanage—unaware of her own powers, or the genetics she'd passed along.

"Your father, we believe, was a telepath, much like James and I. But growing up virtually an orphan, with very little education or experience, he didn't recognize his symptoms as a result of his mutant genetics. When he was found talking to himself, around age eleven, he was kicked out of the orphanage out of fear that your father suffered from schizophrenia. He lived on the streets until he was nineteen, where he met your mother and fell in love.

"I'm assuming that once you were born, your father was already very paranoid, and tried to place a mental block on you, despite not knowing what he was doing. The inexperience and lack of control over his powers led to a somewhat permeable blockade, and thus the reason why I can still access your mind. I cannot read your mind, but I can project thoughts to you.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I knew this from the beginning, Miss Frost. I can only assume that as you grow older, your father's influence diminishes with the time that passes; and as of the past couple of months, if projected strongly enough, I'm able to access your dreams." At her suspicious glare, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I still can't read your thoughts just yet."

"That sounds fake but okay." She muttered under her breath. Charles flashed a hint of a smile, but otherwise said nothing of it.

"You have to understand, Marin, that I cannot determine for myself what happened the night your powers emerged." Charles began to look guilty, which surprised Marin slightly. "There is another matter, however, that I think needs to be addressed."

Marin looked expectantly at him.

"When you first arrived at the Institute, your powers were extremely unstable. They were like nothing we'd ever seen before, even by mutants that could manipulate energy, like Mary, or your grandmother." His face grew dark. "We assumed that you were experiencing symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after witnessing your parents' deaths, which was heightening your abilities.

"I should have learned my lesson after Jean, but even she agreed that the best thing to do was erase your memories of your other powers. They were far too dangerous, to yourself and the other students. And seeing them reemerge in the last five months has made me reexamine the ethicality of continuing to keep these powers from you."

Marin stared ahead into blank space. Somehow, she wasn't surprised—as if Charles telling her this was nothing new to her, it only opened her mind to memories long forgotten. But she'd have time to evaluate them later because Charles was still talking.

"So you're not going to make me forget again?" She looked to him, and he frowned.

"No. No, we're going to do what we should've done eight years ago. We're going to train you to control them." He nodded and swiveled his wheelchair to face her again. She didn't know when he'd turned away. "I know now that you aren't responsible for your parents' deaths, Marin. Your powers were not a cause of them, only a byproduct of whatever you witnessed."

Marin averted her gaze down to her hands, which had migrated into her lap.

"Why does everyone else think that I did?" She asked, her voice quiet and broken.

Charles sighed sorrowfully. "Naturally, I'd had to inform the other adults that run the Institute what circumstances you were found in. In my folly, I revealed to them what my conclusions were, and they, too, believed them, none-the-wiser. From there, it may have been overheard by some of the older students, and then spread from there. It also did not help that your decline in control over your powers was well-known amongst the students, and it wouldn't have been difficult to presume that the lies being spread were true."

Processing the heavy load of information being dumped on her, Marin didn't speak for a full thirty seconds. "Why didn't you just tell them you weren't sure? That you couldn't read my mind?" She eventually asked.

The Professor exhaled. "I believed that if it got out, there was someone whose mind I couldn't penetrate, it would've made you a target. Or, with your chaotic powers, it would have made you a potential weapon. At least, it was what I told myself, to save my reputation from scrutiny. Now, I know that it was entirely for selfish reasons, and I am truly sorry for that, as well, Marin." Charles looked sincere. For all the years that Marin had known the man, admitting his own faults was an extremely rare occurrence, and if he was admitting this now, she had little doubt that he was lying. It didn't make the truth any less painful, though. But Marin was tired of all of the negativity, and despite her better judgment, she found herself forgiving him.

"So what now?" Marin crossed her arms over her chest. "Everyone still thinks I killed my parents. Everyone still treats me as though I need to be avoided at all costs." She shook her head. "And after enduring that shit for nine years, I'm frankly fucking sick of it."

If the Professor was affected by her profanity, he didn't show it. (After all, he'd been around Logan's filthily explicit language for decades, now, and was unlikely to be fazed by anything Marin could come up with.)

"Then I believe an announcement is in order."

+++

Marin shuffled to her room that night, emotionally exhausted from the events of the day. Everyone seemed to believe Professor Xavier's claims that she was innocent, and some even approached her afterward to apologize for their less-than-friendly behaviors. Marin was grateful but ultimately disappointed to find that she didn't care as much for their forgiveness as she'd expected. All she could say was that her name was cleared among the mutants. But she found that it wasn't their forgiveness she wanted so desperately.

Right after his speech, Charles called her back into his office, where he began the process of returning the memories he'd kept covered. She spent hours sweating and writhing in his chair as he unveiled one memory right after the other, and by nine that evening, Marin's mind was her own again.

Walking into her bedroom felt different after. It seemed so much smaller, somehow, even though she'd only been out for half of a day. She filled a cup of water, silently mourning her reusable bottle left behind in her duffel bag, still at Peter's apartment. I wonder if he threw it out, she distantly thought. Marin didn't know what she hated more—having to leave before she could explain herself and leaving him to fear her like everyone else had, or knowing that keeping it a secret from him and Tony Stark was the worst thing she could have done, and condemning herself for doing it anyway.

While ruminating, her door opened. It was Lucy again, but this time, she looked calm, and even a bit regretful. "Can I come in?" She timidly asked in the doorway. Marin nodded, and Lucy stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Marin shifted on her bed so her back was supported by the wall, and curled her feet underneath her. Lucy hesitantly sat on the side of the bed, a couple of feet down. She didn't speak for a while, and Marin knew she was thinking of what to say, so she waited for her patiently.

"I'm sorry," Lucy eventually said, looking Marin straight in the eyes as she turned to sit crisscrossed directly facing her. "I'm sorry that everyone believed that shitty rumor—including me. I'm sorry for being a terrible friend, or not a friend at all when you clearly needed someone on your side." What Marin liked about Lucy was that she didn't turn on the theatrics, she didn't blubber and beg for Marin's forgiveness like some others had. But she was rubbing at her wrists, a nervous habit Marin recognized, surprised though because it was a very rare sight. "What I'm trying to say, is that I was wrong about you. In more ways than just your past."

Marin raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Lucy exhaled through her nose. "I thought you were a reckless, walking dumpster fire, to be honest. With how you constantly acted out—whether it was by disobeying orders to go play hero or refusing to take group training seriously. You're terrible at working in a team, you always used your powers way too often and for the stupidest things, too, and you skipped school so you could go study by yourself. You stole food and hogged the computers, you hated sharing, and you—"

"Okay, I get it." Marin cut her off, growing annoyed.

"I was getting there." Lucy snapped at her impatience. "Marin, I thought you were the worst kind of mutant. Like another Logan or young Cyclops—because we've all heard those stories from Jean—but you're not. You're selfless and principled, and sure, your social skills leave a lot to the imagination, but you're good." Lucy's lips curled into a small, gentle smile. She shook her head, amusedly. "You're not a good mutant, Marin Frost, but you're a hell of a great superhero."

Marin was stunned into silence. Of all the people in Marin's life, Lucy Webb was the last person she expected to say something so nice and genuine. Marin couldn't find the words to respond, but it was fine since apparently Lucy wasn't finished.

"I mean—you're still kind of a shitty superhero, but you've got potential. You definitely need to work on your people skills, and—oof—"

Marin threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Lucy. Though she still rankled to think about the times when Lucy had reprimanded her, hearing such praise now was more than enough for Marin to forgive her. Lucy laughed, hugging her back. They pulled apart after a few seconds.

"And, for the record, I'm sorry for what I said that day." Lucy mentioned sheepishly and didn't need to elaborate for Marin to know what she was referring to. "It was unfair of me and totally uncool—not to mention very unprofessional to say in front of such a young audience."

Marin smiled at the mention of Mary. She made a mental reminder to say hi to the young girl when she got the chance.

"Apology accepted."

"Good." Lucy nodded once, and stared at her for a moment, thinking. "Now... wanna tell me where you've been the past two weeks?"

Marin sighed. With how much she'd yet to unpack herself, she figured that she could use an extra mind. "So, I went back to Queens, right? And the superhero I met from the night in April, Spider-Man, had this really fancy new suit..."

+++

"Well, shit." Lucy said about an hour later. She propped her head up with her hand as she laid on her stomach next to Marin on the bed. "And you really went to D.C.?"

Marin rolled her eyes. "Is that really all you're getting out of all that?"

Lucy waved her hand flippantly. "Nah, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Well, what do I do?" Marin groaned, thumping the back of her head against the wall. "Those weapons dealers are still out there, probably making more alien weapons."

"Well, you said the FBI showed up at the ferry, right?" Lucy wondered. "So don't you think that, knowing they've got the feds on their tail, they plan on laying low for a while?"

Marin pondered the idea. "No... after all, they didn't stop when Spider-Man caught onto them. If anything, they were just bolder than before."

"Yeah, but... no offense to your spider-boyfriend, but he's not exactly as intimidating at the FBI." Lucy pointed out. Marin remembered his conversation with Aaron Davis with a pang in her chest.

"Why does everyone think we're dating? He's not my boyfriend." Marin shook her head. "But I guess that's somewhat true, though it doesn't change the fact that I've got a really bad feeling about it."

Lucy nodded, studying the look on Marin's face. "But you want him to be?"

Marin looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You like him, don't you?" Lucy grinned knowingly. "You like Spider-Man!"

Marin scoffed. "Please. I've known him for all of two weeks." Her face dropped. "And besides, he thinks I killed my parents. There's no way that he'd want to be anywhere near me right now."

"Oh Mare," Lucy sighed sympathetically, and the nickname sent a new wave of pain into her heart.

"It's tomorrow, you know." She deflected. The space behind her eyes burned with the desire to cry. "The day they died." She sniffed wetly, hugging her knees to her chest. "It's been nine years. Nine years, Lucy. And it still feels like it was yesterday. I can still see my father—"

Lucy sat up, and crawled next to Marin, rubbing her back soothingly as the words got stuck in her throat. "I know, Marin." She shushed. When Marin had calmed down enough, Lucy told her, "My mom died when I was nine, you know."

Marin looked at her in shock. "Really?"

Lucy nodded, giving her an empathetic look. "Yeah. She was sick for a while, but it got really bad, towards the end." Lucy looked off into empty space. "She had a stroke when I was at school. I never said goodbye. When my dad came to get me and told me the news, that's when my powers erupted." She shook her head solemnly. "I was just lucky that no one was killed. My dad got the worst of it—he's blind in one eye because of me."

"Not because of you," Marin assured her. "Because of your powers. You aren't your powers, and you didn't do that to your dad. I promise."

Lucy smiled gratefully and sniffed a bit. She laughed. "God, being a mutant is real shit, isn't it?"

"Probably," Marin grinned. "But I think it's worth it sometimes."

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jungkookienoona · 5 years

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Would You Like A Taste? (M)

|Part 1|Part 2|

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Summary:

Jungkook has to face the consequences of his actions.

Genre: Smut, Vampire AU, Supernatural, elements of erotic horror

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations, Blood, slight cannibalism (it’s like a 3 sentence paragraph), Jungkook’s personality flip-flops between precious bunny and sadist.

Would You Like A Taste has taken 2 years and has been in development since before Can I Have A Taste was rewritten please show it and me some love. I love getting asks or reading tags in reblogs. And remember, my writing can’t improve without feedback.

Word Count: 6769

Jungkook snapped out of his haze when his lips met yours. What had he done? He had only given into his lust for a moment, he didn’t think it would lead into a bloodlust. He fell to his knees with you in his arms. He never wanted to hurt you. His main priority was keeping you safe. But you just had to change your regular Friday routine.

He remembered following your scent to the club; you had looked so beautiful and he couldn’t help the old feelings that crept up. How he had crushed hard on you, how he had been planning on asking you on a date. How he never got that opportunity because he got talked into going to some stupid party, where he found himself getting cornered by some chick and waking up in a ditch about a week later.

“No… No no no no! Shit!”

One of his hands stroked the hair out of your face while the other held you firm to him, your breathing growing shallower by the second. How could he fix this? Could he save you at all? His heart sank at the only option that presented itself. No. He couldn’t do that to you. But time was running out.

“Please don’t hate me Noona.” He whispered before biting down on his own wrist.

A member of staff at the club discovered your lifeless body in the alley. She shrieked drawing the attention of others in the vicinity. It wasn’t long before the police turned up.

After a few days of investigation, it was deduced that your death was due to the over-consumption of alcohol. Your family to arrange your funeral, quickly wanting you to be at peace as soon as possible. They made sure you were buried in your hometown near the graves of your ancestors. The funeral was a family event so strange looks were given to the young man dressed in a black suit who stood near the back. He watched as the members of your family went up to your open casket saying their last tearful goodbyes; waiting patiently for them all to have their turn so that he would be the last to approach. When his time finally came, he was slow to move. Guilt washed over him. He was the reason you were in there, why your family would never see you again. Upon seeing your pallored face he couldn’t hold back the need to touch you, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. You were cold.

“This was never meant to happen... It’s all my fault... I’m so sorry Noona. I’m sorry” His voice was barely louder than the deafening silence as tears ran unbidden down his cheeks, falling to his knees.

Your family watched him break down into sobs; the young man dressed in black that no one knew yet vaguely recognised.

A month passed and there was still no sign of life from you. Jungkook had been sat by your grave every night with a shovel, waiting to dig you up. But as more time passed the more he grew to doubt himself. He hadn’t been quick enough. He had drained you of too much blood. Those thoughts circled his mind for hours on end as he sat there waiting. He even wore the same black suit that he had worn to your funeral. He watched as the colours of the sky changed from navy to black and then eventually to the peach of dawn. His head hung low, accepting the fact that he had killed you, that you would not be waking up and he would not be able to beg for your forgiveness. The sun began to crest on the horizon and Jungkook picked himself off the ground. He was reaching for his shovel when he heard it. When he heard you.

You woke with a gasp, surrounded by darkness. The fuck was going on? Where were you? Last thing you remembered was getting fucked in an alley outside the club and blood red eyes. Your breathing grew rapid as you realised you couldn’t see a thing and as you wriggled in your panicked state you found you were shut in a confined space. You were so focused on yourself you didn’t hear the sound of metal scraping against dirt at an inhuman speed. But what you did notice was the sudden light that shone into, what you now realised to be, your coffin as Jungkook wrenched the lid open. His smile was almost as radiant and bright as the dawn light that haloed him.

“Noona!” He shouted in glee.

“Asshole!” You shouted back with venom.

Jungkook’s smile dropped which brought you some satisfaction. His face became serious as he placed a hand over your eyes.

“Go back to sleep Noona. Don’t worry I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Almost as if he had cast a spell over you, you fell back into darkness.

As soon as you had called him ‘asshole’ Jungkook knew you would struggle against him. It would be much easier to carry an unconscious you than a kicking and scratching you. So, he did the first thing that came to mind. He used his creator bond to knock you out.

The second time you woke up, you were on a plush sofa in a large living room. You sat up, taking in your surroundings. The sofa you were on was pink and Victorian-esque while the walls were teal and were decorated with what appeared to be family photos. Your curiosity got the better of you. You got off the sofa, walking up to the pictures. The first one that caught your eye was a group picture. Jungkook was in the centre, awkwardly smiling with six older looking boys surrounding him. Two of them had a hand on his shoulders, a guy with purple hair and a brunette. That wasn’t the only group picture of them either, nearly every picture on the wall was one. Except for six of them. In the six remaining pictures, each boy other than Jungkook was paired up with what appeared to be their significant other. You almost felt bad for him. Until you remembered what he had done to you. Anger flowed fresh through your veins once more.

“Yah! Jungkook-ah! Where are you?” You took another look around, “What the fuck is this place?!”

You heard footsteps approaching after. From the sounds of it they were coming from above you then down a staircase and when they stopped a sheepish Jungkook poked his head through the door. He had finally changed his clothes for the first time in a month. Not that you would’ve known. He was now wearing a form fitting white top that had a few holes here and there with three-quarter-length sleeves, and a pair of leather trousers that clung to his muscular legs like they were painted on. It appeared he had decided to forgo wearing shoes.

“You’re awake again.”

“No shit Sherlock; now tell me where I am.”

“We’re in my family’s home.”

“Family?” Confusion was evident in your tone.

“Pop culture would call us a ‘coven’ but thanks to Twilight, we hate that word.”

Well... that explained nothing to you. You saw him take a step towards and instinctively took a step back. His features looked pained at your action.

“Please... Noona... don’t be afraid of me.”

Don’t be afraid of him? After what he had done to you? Did he really think he could get away with it?

“YOU KILLED ME!”

You noticed a newspaper, the front page had a picture of you smiling and the title read ‘Girl found dead in alley by female bartender’. A bit of a long-winded title that gave away the entire story of the article and it seemed a bit strange that there happened to be a newspaper with what happened to you on its front cover in the room; but it helped you to know what had happened.

“You left me in an alley to be found by a bartender?! The poor girl is probably traumatised!” Your voice portrayed how scandalised you felt at having been left there like that.

“I left you there for you own good! At least you got found.”

“I DIED! You should’ve taken me to a hospital!”

“It was too late, Noona. I didn’t have time. I had no choice but to turn yo-”

“Don’t try and reason your way out of this-”

“Y/N, please listen to me-”

“If you say that you did this for my own good, I swear I will-”

“I KILLED YOU. I was selfish. I drained you of your blood and this was the only way…” His fists were clenched as his voice strained with emotion at first before quieting down to a barely heard whisper, tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I lost control. I wanted you so bad and you felt so good… It brought up a hunger for you I didn’t know I had.”

You diverted your gaze, taking another step back when he reached for you.

“Kookie…”

His eyes widened, the nickname striking a cord, “Kookie?”

You shuffled from foot to foot.

“Jungkook…”

He stepped closer and you stepped back; your back coming into contact with a wooden side table causing a vase of flowers to wobble and fall. He caught it, placing it back on the surface but not retracting his hand from beside you. You were pinned in.

“Noona, please. You have to understand.”

“How could I possibly understand?! You disappeared! Do you know how many nights I stayed up crying when you vanished? Then you suddenly reappeared years later looking almost unrecognisable! You killed me on something less than a whim!”

You pushed his chest, Jungkook stumbled backwards at the force.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Noona…”

He reached for you again and you stumbled to the side, knees giving out. He was there, catching you before you fell with his arms around your waist as you both sunk to the floor. Your head was tucked against his chest and at first, he thought you had passed out until he heard a sniffle. He brushed a hand over your forehead, pushing back your fringe.

“You cried when I was gone? I thought you wouldn’t have cared.”

“Of course I cared. You were the sweet dongsaeng that kept sneaking snacks and vitamins into my bag when you thought I wasn’t looking while I was studying in the library.”

He was silent for a moment, hand carding through your hair,

“I was planning to ask you out before I was turned. But I went to a party, I was turned under similar circumstances to you… just without the sex.” He let out a soft chuckle at the last part.

You snorted, “Definitely wasn’t expecting to be shoved up against a wall and fucked by a vampire who just so happened to be my middle school crush.”

You felt his hand still, “I-I was your crush?”

Your cheeks grew warmer.

“Uh… surprise?”

He laughed to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “I should’ve asked you out sooner. I’m so stupid.”

There was a pause in the conversation as you took a moment to think about how you would word what you wanted to say next.

“How long was I dead for?”

“A month. I almost lost hope. But at least you had a funeral; which I attended by the way, accidentally made quite the scene too. When I was turned I woke up in a ditch on a country road. I was lucky to have been found wandering lost and confused by Namjoon before I could attack someone.”

You finally looked up at him, your gaze meeting his as you realised that even though he was the one that killed you, he had at least shown some remorse and tried to give you a better start in your unlife than he had had. Even if that did mean leaving your body in an alley.

“The person that turned you… did you ever see them again?”

A grimace appeared on his lips as his eyes hazed over in memory, “I killed her about 2 months after I woke up, with the rest of my new family’s help. We had to wait for the creator bond to wear off before I could confront her but the other members kept tabs on where she was. Turns out she was considered a criminal in the vampire world.” He saw your puzzled look. “There’s a limit on how many we are allowed to turn, to keep our numbers in check. But she went way over the limit, basically turning anyone she bit. So my revenge was not looked down upon, I was getting rid of a pest.”

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of Jungkook being able to murder in cold blood. At least your death was more or less an accident on his part. But his creator’s death was premeditated. That wasn’t the Kookie you knew. Almost as if he could sense the fear that was making itself known to you again he pulled you closer to him in an attempted to comfort you.

“I was angry, Noona, much like you were- are. I had my life snatched away from me. My future was gone. I couldn’t see my family, friends or you again. I think that’s the thing that angered me most actually. That she had stolen my opportunity to ask you on a date. Even if it turns out you would’ve rejected me, I had wanted that opportunity to see if my feelings were returned.”

He had shifted you a bit while he was talking so that he could nuzzled into your neck and take in your scent, almost like he was trying to use it to soothe himself as shadows of his hatred towards his creator returned.

“You mentioned a ‘creator bond’. What is it that exactly?”

He hesitated for a second then leaned back to look at you again.

“It’s a type of… control that allows creators to control their creations for a month after they wake. It’s how I got you to fall back to sleep.”

Your eyes widened in alarm knowing that he could take away your free will at any moment, that he had already done so once. He felt you tense.

“I promise to use it as a last resort. Like if you present yourself as a danger.”

“How can I trust you not to abuse that power?”

“Because I never wanted this for you… I love you, always have. It’s never faded. But after what I’ve done to you I don’t blame you for distrusting me… If it will make you feel more comfortable I could ask one of the members’ mates to look after you for the first month? They live next door.”

You found yourself confused again. So much so it over rid your fear. Mates? These ‘mates’ living next door?

“What are mates?”

He smiled fondly at you, you felt his grip on you tighten slightly.

“‘Mates’ is short for soulmate. You know, people we’re destined to be with. Most mates are turned by the other. Though that wasn’t the case for Jin-hyung. He said that he met his mate a couple centuries ago because she was following him. He confronted her and, apparently, she had told him she couldn’t help herself, he was just too handsome.”

You laughed. You didn’t know who this Jin was but you laughed. Because from Jungkook’s tone of voice, he didn’t believe Jin’s story. You were somewhat surprised at how short lived your anger towards him was, being replaced by curiosity instead as he explained aspects of the life you would now be living.

“If you’re destined to be with them, why do you live separately?”

“Yoongi-hyung told me it was ‘to stop an eternity together from getting boring’. And though we’re one big family, we all like to have our alone time at points. You can’t exactly have that when sharing a room.”

“You said I could live with them if I wanted to. Implying that it would be fine if I decide I want to stay here with you. Why is it fine that I stay?”

He chuckled, finding your inquisitiveness cute.

“Because you’re unmated. And you’re the newbie. It just coincidence that all the females decided to live together. We would be totally okay with co-ed housing.”

“Oh… how does someone get a mate?”

One of his arms let go of you, his free hand coming up to awkwardly scratch that back of his neck, red dusting his cheeks. You realised that he was giving you what could be considered Vampire Sex Ed.

“Well first, you have to be a vampire. Then, uh, then… then you need to um… do the do…” You giggled at his awkwardness, this was the Kookie you knew. “When doing the do… uh I mean… when you’re nearing your finish… you and your partner need to b-b-bite each other and take in some of their blood. It creates a mating bond that leaves a permanent mark on the area you were bitten.”

As Jungkook described how vampires become mates you couldn’t help but think back to how you died. He had bitten you as he came. Something in your head clicked as the two pieces of information came together.

“K-K-Kookie… I think you tried to mate with me-”

“What?!”

You saw emotions flicker across his face. First confusion, then understanding, then embarrassment.

“Oh god.” His forehead came to rest on your shoulder as he came to realise that you were probably correct. The actions of that night matching up to the actions he had just described. “Lord kill me now.”

“Where would the fun be in that? I think you should continue living so you can look at me and forever be reminded that you tried to mate a non-vampire. Live with the shame.”

“Noona~!” He howled in humiliation, his face moving from your shoulder to your neck as if doing so could help him vanish into thin air. You had to stop yourself from shivering at the feel of his breath on your skin.

“Did your hyungs not educate you well enough?”

At that he lifted his head to look at you again, looking almost scandalised that you would try and place some of the blame on his hyungs. Then a playful glare made its way onto his features.

“They did. But I think I just love you so much I temporarily lost all rationality. You looked fucking hot that night Noona. Like damn.”

A thought came to mind.

“Jungkook, you ripped off my panties that night. Please tell me I was found wearing underwear.”

“Does it look like I carry a spare pair of panties in my pocket?”

“You could have given me your own.”

“I was commando, Noona, you know that! You saw!”

“I’m sorry if my memory is a bit foggy I was DEAD for a MONTH!”

At that reminder, his face fell a little, he gaze turning away from you as he scratched the back of his neck again.

“I went back to yours and grabbed a pair before rushing back to you. So, yes, you were found wearing underwear.” A small smile graced his lips at the thought of having done something right.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he smiled, you brain noticing how much he had changed, physically. When you had last saw him, human him, he was a sweet 14-year-old with puppy fat, wide eyes and an emo style hair do. He had very much reminded you of a cute bunny. It was part of the reason you had had a crush on him. But now the Kookie that held you in his arms was chiselled, with a jawline as sharp as a knife. His eyes were still wide and doe-like but they held a maturity to them that hadn’t been there when he was younger. He had even had a growth spurt because you could remember him being shorter than you; now he towered over you. He was no longer a small fluffy bunny but a grown predator. It made him attractive in a different way. This observation caused a new question to bubble to your lips.

“I thought vampires didn’t age. Why don’t you look the same as you did back then?”

“A lot of my physical changes happened as a direct result of being turned. It kind of put my puberty into overdrive. When I looked at myself for the first time after being turned, I had completely missed out on maturing naturally and the person staring back at me was a full-grown adult. The clothes I had worn when I was turned were very… snug.”

Your eyes widened in shock. If he had changed after being turned, had you? Your hands flew to your face mapping out the surface of it to see if you could feel any changes. All you noticed was that your lingering acne problem had disappeared.

“Don’t worry, you still look like my beautiful Noona.”

You blushed.

“You still haven’t told me if you want to spend your first month here or in the mates’ house.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I want what makes you feel most comfortable.”

You took a second to think about it before looking at him and smiling.

“I think what would make me most comfortable would be staying with familiar face.”

The smile he gave you could’ve rivalled the sun in its brightness. You felt his hand twist in the material at the base of your spine and instinctively arched into the touch. Your chest grazed his and were suddenly aware of how close you were. His eyes, slightly narrowed as he too was wrapped up in the tension, glistened in the light streaming through the parted curtains behind you. You held your breath. If you were to lean in… His head dipped, lips meeting yours tenderly, so different to the rushed hungry kisses of the night you died. You almost felt like that Jungkook and the Jungkook that held you in his arms were two different people. One was dangerous and all-consuming the other gentle and loving. He broke the kiss, pulling away to look at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I’ve missed the feel of your lips,” He breathed, eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours, “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily, I know that you must resent me for what I’ve done. Nor do I expect you to love me like I do you. Knowing that you once reciprocated my feelings when I was human is enough for now.”

You felt the need to reach out to him, to comfort him. But one last thing lingered in your thoughts.

“You… On that night, you said you had been wanting me for a while, yet today you say that you never wanted to hurt me. Which one is the truth?”

“Both.”

You frowned, anger bubbling in you again but he continued speaking, not giving you the opportunity to voice it.

“After I killed my creator you were all I could think about. Were you safe? Were you healthy? Had you been accepted into that specialist highschool I had overheard you talking about every now and then in middle school? I had spent nearly every night years patrolling the area you lived in to make sure it was vampire free. There were a few incidents but they were dealt with quickly.”

He shifted the both of you so he was led on the floor with your head resting on his chest as you led beside him. One of his arms rested behind his own head while his free hand stroked your hair, the sensation soothing you causing you to relax into him.

“At the same time, I craved you. I wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms, to hear you moan my name, to taste the salt of your skin on my tongue. I wanted to watch you wither in pleasure that only I could give. And until that night I had been successful in holding back those desires.”

You felt a faint trickle of desire spread through you at his words but couldn’t stop yourself from trying to embarrass him.

“And you ended up trying to mate me but killed me instead.”

“Obviously I didn’t realise what I was trying to do at the time.”

“Does that mean you would try to mate me again?”

“Would you be adverse to it?”

“Depends, will I die?”

“For fuck sake Noona, I just explained it all to you.” He playfully slapped your arm as a show of mock agitation, you looked up at him confused.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel that.”

“Really? I put at least some effort into that,” You nodded causing him to grin like a cheshire cat, “I made a sturdy one. I don’t have to worry about breaking you now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Answer my question and I’ll let you know what I meant.”

You looked away from him, a light blush on your cheeks as you thought about what he had asked moments earlier. Would you be against it? He had killed you and you were still pissed about it to an extent. But at the same time you died because he was just following instinct, he didn’t mean to kill you. And if mates were people destined to be together, was it fate that Jungkook didn’t know what the fuck he was doing? That he had unknowingly tried to mate a human.

“I’m not exactly against it. Doesn’t mean I forgive you… just… the sex was good.”

“Would you like another taste?” He said, quirking an eyebrow.

You sat up, “Another taste of what?”

“Me.”

“I don’t think I have tasted you, Kook.”

“Well, I’m not wearing underwe-”

“Are you asking me to-”

“Yes.”

“You really are a master of seduction.”

Jungkook waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t worry I shall teach you my ways”

“You ain’t teaching me shit”

“But Noona~!”

You straddled his lap causing him to look shook. You wiggled a bit to get comfortable accidentally creating friction over his crotch. Jungkook went from being shook to closing his eyes and moaning at your actions, hands coming up to your hips to stop you from moving so much.

“Noona, I need your answer, will you accept me as your mate? Because if you don’t want to or not ready then you need to get off me right now.”

You smirked, a plan forming in your mind, “And what would happen if I don’t move?”

“If you don’t then I’ll have you under me begging for me to mark you as mine. I’ll fuck you until your voice turns hoarse from screaming my name and my name alone. I won’t stop until you know how much I want you for myself. How much I need to have you. I’ve already gone so many years without you, I’m not willing to go a day more if I can.”

Your breathing stopped at the slight growl to his voice combined with his words. That little trickle of desire had suddenly become raging, you never knew such possessiveness could make you wet. He hadn’t even touched you. You placed your hands on his chest as your hips involuntarily ground against his growing hardness, a whimper escaping from you. You hadn’t realised your eyes had closed until a feral sound from Jungkook caused them to snap open. He grabbed the front of your dress, using it as leverage to pull you down into a heated kiss. You let out a little yelp as he flipped your positions then lightly bit your bottom lip. He trailed kisses from your lips to your neck, which he nipped and sucked at, creating small purplish marks that bloomed.

A small part of you realised that this was the Jungkook from that night. Yet you weren’t afraid. You were as welcoming of him now as you were back then. Your fingers clutched at his hair, breathing uneven. You felt his hands slip behind your back, locating the zipper of your dress and pulling it down. He sat back up and you noticed his eyes. They had gone from dark chocolate to coal black in his lust. Were your eyes the same?

“Dress. Off.” Came his gravelly voice and you were quick to comply, pulling the material up and over your head in seconds, tossing away.

He smirked at the sight of you, clearly enjoying seeing you in your underwear. A part of you wondered who had dressed you for your funeral because, honestly, when did a dead person need undies?

“Deep red suits you Noona but sadly that’s gonna need to come off too.”

You pouted, “It won’t be fair if I’m the only one naked.”

“Noona if I got undressed now this would end all too quickly. I want to savour this.” He took his top off anyway. “There. Does that make you happier?”

You hesitated, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder. It was the first time you had seen him shirtless and you marvelled at his muscular physique. Your hand moved to his bicep, giving it a light squeeze and feeling the hard flesh. Your other hand went to his pecs and travelled downwards to his abdominal muscles, feeling his breathing stutter as your fingers traced over a sensitive area just above the waistband of his leather pants.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You hummed and nodded, “I didn’t get to see you last time.”

“I didn’t really see you either. You were still wearing a dress back then.”

He grasped your waist and pulled you closer to him. His hands once again snaking up your back to undo your bra. When it came loose he tugged the material down your arms, carelessly tossing it behind him. His hand went to your shoulder, apply enough pressure for you to understand that he wanted you to lie back down. As you led back down a part of you wondered if vampires could get carpet burn.

You watched as he crawled up your body, his muscles tightened and relaxed as he moved, reminding you of a cheetah stalking its prey. He stopped once he was hovering over your form, his lips ghosting against yours as he rested his weight on his elbows either side of your head. You propped yourself up in order to capture his lips with your own, fed up with the distance that kept appearing between the two of you. One of your hands came up to grip the back of his hair so that the kiss wouldn’t break as you led back down, taking him with you. The kiss quickly growing in intensity; the naked flesh of your torsos coming into contact sending sparks of electricity through the both of you. Your other hand joined its partner in Jungkook’s hair, moaning into the kiss. Jungkook hips bucked against you at the sound, drawing another from you.

He was the one to break the kiss, eagerly kissing his way down to the tops of your heaving chest. You felt him gently run his teeth, no, his fangs over the tender flesh a moment before biting into it. There was a sharp pain at first that had your breath catching in your throat then coming out as a husky moan of pleasure. He moved away slightly, licking his lips, a cheeky grin appearing on his face.

“You’ll find that most vampires are sadomasochists. We naturally enjoy giving and receiving pain. Though if I remember correctly, you enjoyed being bitten as a human… until you realised you were dying.”

He went back to the bitemark, softly lapping at it to soothe the red area and a small moan slipped through your lips again. He chuckled, trailing his lips to your nipple and giving it a few quick teasing licks before taking the small bud into his mouth and sucking. This definitely felt way better than the quick fuck in the alleyway you had with him and he wasn’t even inside you yet. You knew he said he wanted to savour it but it was beginning to be too much, you wanted his teasing to stop. He pulled away from your nipple with a barely audible pop.

“I said I would make you beg for me Noona. I intended to do just that.”

He moved to your other breast to give it a similar treatment to the first making you keen and arch into his attentions, your hands’ grip tightening in his locks. But then he was moving again. His lips mapping your dips and curves while he travelled further down your body, every now and then biting you just hard enough to break the skin so he could lap up any of the delicious crimson that surfaced. Every piercing nip caused a burning pleasure to originate from the bleeding area.

“Does... my blood... really taste that good?” You managed to pant out. He wasn’t going to make you beg easily.

He hummed as he kissed the area he had just bitten, pulling back slightly to watch the bite mark heal and vanish, “Better than anything I’ve had before.”

A shiver ran down your spine as those red eyes from that night stared up at you. But it wasn’t fear.

“Do your eye always turn red when you taste blood?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Yours will do the same when you drink blood. In fact… I think you should know how it feels…”

He raised himself off you and shuffled forward, bringing a wrist to your lips.

“I’ll ask you what I did before. Would you like a taste?”

You hesitated. This was all new to you and quite honestly you felt as if you were thrown into the deep end. But you couldn’t deny, you felt a strong pull to bite down on the limb at your lips. So why fight against something so willingly offered? For the sake of maintaining humanity? You weren’t human anymore and it's not like humans are free from committing ‘monstrous’ acts. Something in your gut told you to follow Jungkook’s orders.

Casting aside what reluctance you had, you allowed yourself to follow your new baser instincts. Lips parting to dig your fangs into the offered flesh. You marvelled at how easily it gave way. How the splash of life’s nectar that hit your tongue made you need more of it. Each gulp had you chasing a building high. Moans slipped out between every mouthful swallowed. In the back of your mind you registered Jungkook hitching your legs around his waist and his owns sounds of pleasure as he rutted against you. The whole act was carnal and vulgar and new. Your hips thrust upwards to meet him, making your high build quicker until, with a muffled scream, you came.

Jungkook ripped his arm from your mouth, not caring about the chunk of flesh it left behind, it would heal. He watched as you prepared to spit it out but he covered your lips with his hand.

“Swallow it, don’t want it going to waste now do we?”

Wasn’t that cannibalism? Surely Jungkook must’ve been joking. But his gaze was hard, no sign of amusement held in them. He was serious. With a shaky exhale through your nose, you chewed the meat, thrill seeping into your bones as the blood hidden inside was released, allowing you to swallow without a second though.

“Such a good Noona. Following my orders so nicely.” Jungkook cooed, caressing your cheek, “And as much as I would love to hear you beg, I’ve lost at my own game. I can’t wait any longer.”

He leant back, unravelling your legs from around him to slide your panties down your legs.

“It would be such a waste to ruin these. So I’ll just have to ruin you instead.”

“Yes Master.”

There was a beat of silence and then it dawned on you, what you had just said. Your face darkened in embarrassment, hands flying up to hide it. To hide you from your shame. Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head before focusing on your womanhood.

“My Noona has such a pretty cunt, I still remember how you tasted that night.”

You squealed when you felt his tongue lap at you slick.

“Your cum is so sweet, I would choose this over blood any day.”

You peeked from between your fingers, “D-d-don’t say things like that K-Kookie-” You cut yourself of with a cry when he sucked on you clit, two fingers working their way inside you.

“What happened to ‘Master’? I quite liked that word coming from those lovely lips of yours.”

You whined, turning your face away from the erotic view in front of you. Too embarrassed to look at him. “It-It was an a-HA-ccident.”

Jungkook paused, “Oh really? So you won’t say it again.”

You shook your head.

“Okay then, I guess I’ll stop.”

You snapped back to look at him, “Please don’t.”

He smirked up at you, “Then say it again. Call me ‘Master’.”

“P-please d-don’t stop M…. Master.”

Without wasting another second Jungkook had his tongue back on you, playing with your clit, his fingers curling you rub against your sweet spot. Hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as your hips bucked up, grinding against the wet muscle that dragged out whines and pleas for more. But all too soon he was drawing away from you despite the tugs on his hair.

“As much as I’d love for you to cum on my tongue, I’d much rather you came on my cock.”

He made quick work of the fastenings of his pants and even quicker in removing them. You wiggled in anticipation of what was to come, unable to keep still in your excitement. Aligned with your centre, he pushed into you with one smooth thrust, the two of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, so tight. So hot. Just for me.”

His head fell to nestle into you neck, his body weight supported by his forearms, the sounds of his pleasure floating directly into your ear, sending shivers of desire down your spine. You legs came to wrap around his waist yet again, anchoring him to you as you encouraged him to go deeper with breathy pleas. Your hands tried to find purchase in his back, leaving red rivulets in their wake as they dug into muscle. Nips at the delicate skin of your neck sent jolts down to your core leading you to the euphoria to come.

“Keep clenching around me like that and I’ll come too soon Noona.”

You whimpered, your high not building quick enough for you, something was missing. You wanted to cum so badly. Jungkook lifted one your legs to his shoulder, the change in angle causing his pelvis to rub against your neglected clit. You withered beneath him, his name broken on your lips, a sight he had always wanted to see and Jungkook would be damned if he didn’t commit it to memory. Catching a nipple in his mouth, he lightly bit at the nub, little droplets welling to the surface as you gave an erotic keen making his cock twitch inside you.

“I wanna cum, please make me cum.” You sobbed, fingers digging into his back, warm wet blood slicking their tips as you accidentally broke the skin.

Jungkook growled, sweat slicked hair strands sticking to his forehead as intense crimson eyes stared into your dazed ones, “Please what?”

“Please make me cum Master, I can’t take anymore.”

“Good Noona.”

A slap to your sensitive clit was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge into rapture, your back arching as your fangs embedded into Jungkook’s throat which he willingly bore to you. So caught up in you pleasure, you didn’t hear Jungkook’s cry of release, the sound of the door opening or the feeling of your own neck being bitten.

When your senses came back to you, the first thing you noticed was that Jungkook was growling, his arms wrapped possessively around you. And as you went to pull away, he refused to do the same, effectively blocking you from being able to turn your head. It seemed rather odd to you. Well odd until-

“Dammit brat this is why we have the basement!”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #boop #BTS jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #bangtan #bangtan scenario #bangtan smut

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joiedecombat · 5 years

Text

HOW WELL YOU KNOW ME

This one also ran out of control, which was... probably to be expected, honestly. I am sorry I took so long, I swear I will try to get my other pending prompts out faster!

25: The smell of ozone during a storm.

“Tell me you’re not thinking of going back out there,” Theron said.

Lightning forked through the sky of Yavin 4, punctuating his words with timing he couldn’t have paid for. The flash of it lit the guilty embarrassment that crossed Maia's face as she glanced toward him, before she raised her eyebrows and did her best to school her expression into one of surprise.

Damn but the woman was easy to read.

“Of course I’m not.” The crack of a thunderclap almost drowned out her entirely predictable reply. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Theron cocked a dubious eyebrow. Sure, she’d shed her sodden and filthy outer robe, tugged off her muddy boots to wring the squelch out of her socks, and generally done a good impression of settling in to wait out the storm under the dubious shelter of the Republic backup comms tent. But he wasn’t a trained observer of people for nothing. He hadn’t missed the way her attention kept straying outward through the sheeting rain, past the encampment toward the jungle, as though her eyes were drawn to some objective a long way off.

Right now those eyes held his, wide and impossibly blue, a transparent attempt to convince him of her sincerity with eye contact alone. If he’d never met her before, it might have actually worked. As it was, Theron didn’t even have to say anything - he just waited, watching her expectantly, until she finally looked away with a lopsided smile.

Busted.

“All right,” Maia conceded, “maybe a little. But only thinking. I’m not foolhardy enough to try actually going out in--” she waved a hand toward the open mouth of the tent, “--that.”

Outside, rain hammered down on the Coalition base camp in curtains of water, muffling all sound beneath its white noise and making visibility at any distance more like a wish. The jungle beyond the camp was barely a suggestion of shapes through the haze.

Another strobe of lightning turned it all black and silver for a fraction of a second. “Good,” said Theron, absently starting a silent count. “It’d look pretty bad for the rest of us if we lost the star of the Jedi Order in the jungle. Again.”

Maia lifted her chin, mouth opening to retort only to close again as thunder boomed with the force of a detonation. Closer this time, Theron judged - the worst of the storm had yet to hit them. By the time the reverberations faded, she’d tucked the flash of indignation away.

“I made it back fine, didn’t I? Scourge and I just lost track of each other in the scuffle. It could happen to anyone.”

“Hmm.” It was probably some kind of character flaw that made him want to poke at that thin veneer of Jedi composure, to see the woman underneath show her face again. “‘Navigation sense of a blind mooka.’ I think that’s how Kimble put it.”

A flush of pink colored her cheeks. “Doc talks too much.”

Theron chose not to mention the rest of what Kimble had said after Scourge came out of the jungle without her, or how close he’d come to punching her medic in the face before Satele had arrived to lay down the law. He suspected Maia wouldn’t take his side, and that was a discussion he really didn’t feel like having with her right now. Or in general, to be honest.

The rational part of him knew he wasn’t being entirely fair. From Korriban to Rishi he’d heard Kimble lapse into alarmed swearing over the comms - a sure signal that Maia had yet again launched herself into danger without waiting for her backup - too many times to doubt how much the other man cared about keeping her in one piece. Theron still half wanted to punch the guy. The idea of listening to Maia patiently tell him that Doc was right, she could take care of herself and sending out a search party with a storm looming dark on the horizon would only have risked making more victims in need of rescue, prickled under his skin like an itch he couldn’t reach.

So Theron kept his mouth shut and let the drumming of rain on the tent’s durasilk canopy fill the silence.

Silence didn’t seem to bother Maia; she wore it comfortably, never compelled to talk just to fill the void. Pretending to occupy himself with studying a readout on his datapad, Theron watched her sidelong as she undid the band holding her hair and shook it out of its half-collapsed knot. The rain-wet mass of it spilled down her back, dark and heavy and longer than he'd expected. With a strange little jolt, he realized he’d never seen her with it down before.

Why it should even matter, he had no idea, but suddenly the space inside the tent felt very close. The driving rain rendered the rest of the camp hushed and distant, creating an illusion of privacy - as though it were only the two of them on the whole jungle moon. As Maia worked at combing her hair into some kind of order with her fingers, Theron caught himself holding his breath.

She’s a Jedi, he told himself. Get a grip already.

Not that she looked like much of a Jedi at the moment, perched on the edge of an equipment trunk with her feet bare and straggling wisps of damp hair sticking to her face. The picture she made couldn’t have been further from the figure that strode out of the jungle in the midst of the downpour, covered in mud and worse than mud, her head held high. With steam hissing off her lightsabers and refracting the blades’ glow around her in a corona of blue and violet, she’d looked more mythical than real - like something sprung fully-formed from the point where lightning struck the ground, bright enough to burn anyone who dared come too close.

Which was way too fanciful a thought for Theron Shan, and hard to reconcile with the very real flesh and blood of the woman who was currently biting her lip as she tried to worry loose a stubborn tangle with her fingertips. And just how she could be this much of a mystery when everything she felt showed on her face for the world to read, Theron wasn't sure.

He never had been able to resist a mystery.

Maia finished bundling her hair up at the nape of her neck and secured the band back in place. From the way her shoulders dropped, he thought she might have sighed, but the sound of it was lost under the rainfall.

“To be honest…” She spoke softly, getting to her feet. “I’m not very good at waiting.”

He put aside the datapad he hadn’t been looking at as she padded across the tent and came up alongside him. “We’re on Revan’s timetable,” she said, once more gazing out through the rain towards the jungle. “I just… can’t help feeling like I should be doing something.”

The storm wind blew spatters of rain in through the open tent flap. Maia curled her arms around herself against the chill in the wet air; this time, Theron could hear the breath chuff out of her in a self-deprecating little laugh.

“Impatience is a bad quality for a Jedi.” She looked toward him with a hint of a smile playing over her mouth, eyes bright with the conspiratorial amusement of one sharing a private, secret joke. “I probably shouldn’t admit to it out loud.”

If either of them shifted even a little to the side, their arms would brush. The air felt charged, tingling against his skin, as though the slightest contact would send a spark jolting between them. Theron opted not to test the theory. “Maybe,” he said. “For what it’s worth, though, I know the feeling.”

Her lips curved, the hint of a smile warming as she studied his face with an expression akin to wonder, like he'd said something profound. “You do,” she murmured, voice almost lost under the rain. “Don't you?”

Theron opened his mouth to say - something, but the words didn't come. Reflected in her eyes he caught a glimpse of a silent understanding, a sense of being not just seen but known. Recognized. Your shortcomings are safe with me, it said. I won’t tell anyone.

Oh, he thought.

Lightning blazed blue-white and purple, sending a crackle of feedback through his implants; the explosion of thunder came only a heartbeat after. Theron hadn’t been aware of moving, but somehow the two of them stood face to face, unconsciously oriented toward one another and close enough to touch.

Alarms buzzed along his nerve endings: Danger! Danger! Abort!

Theron ignored them, distracted by a droplet of rain tracing a slow, glimmering track along the side of Maia's face. Curiosity was absolutely going to be the death of him, because this could not possibly end anywhere good and there were a million reasons he should be taking a step back, but none of that seemed as important just now as the memory of the way she’d kissed him in those last stolen moments before they’d pulled out of Rishi. He could practically still feel her mouth on his, soft and unexpected and careful of his split lip - the sigh that she’d breathed out as they parted feathering warm against his bruised skin.

If he kissed her right now, would she taste like lightning? Would her lips part against his, until the clean, sharp sweetness of the ozone-laced air after a storm raced over his tongue? If he buried his hands in the wet silk of her hair and bent his head to hers, suggested they steal away somewhere really private together to burn off their restless energy--

--most likely she’d remember who and what she was, and that would be an immediate end to that. But Theron couldn’t help wondering.

Couldn’t resist the impulse to reach out and brush the back of his finger over the curve of her cheek, catching the raindrop that hung suspended like a tear. Her chilled skin warmed to his touch, and Maia stood very still, the trace of a blush tinting her cheekbones. She didn’t speak. He couldn’t be entirely sure she even breathed - or maybe he was the one holding his breath again. Maybe they both were, in case the wrong move, the wrong word, the wrong sound would shatter the illusion and bring reality crashing back in.

Any second, he thought, uncurling his hand to let his fingertips graze down along the line of her jaw. Any second now, she’d pull back. She’d turn away to avoid his eyes as she made some flustered apology, trying to pull composure back around herself like a robe.

He skimmed his thumb across her chin, over the ridge of the little diagonal scar that he still hadn’t gotten the story of. Any second now one of them was going to have a sudden rush of sanity to the brain and it was almost certainly going to be Maia, because after all she was a Jedi and Jedi didn’t do attachments, and any second now she was going to remember that.

Maia’s head tipped back, tilting her face up toward him. Her lips parted as she drew in a quiet breath.

Any second now...

“Master Jedi.” The brisk voice sent them jerking apart like they’d touched the same live wire. Sergeant Rusk stood in the downpour outside the tent, with a waterproof poncho draped over his armor and rain dripping steadily from his craggy face.

“You’re needed at the command center,” he told Maia, stoically deadpan.

“--Ah,” said Maia, blushing hard enough to be visible from across the camp. “Of course.” She took a step in Rusk’s direction, realized she was barefoot, and hastily turned back to where she’d left her boots while Theron tried to decide who he wanted to shoot more, the Chagrian or himself. “I’m sorry. Give me just a moment.”

Under other circumstances, Theron probably would’ve enjoyed watching the truly priceless series of faces she made as she went through the unpleasant process of putting her damp socks back on so that she could shove her feet back into her boots. As it was, he occupied himself with feigning nonchalance and casually positioning himself just so at the opening of the tent, ensuring that Rusk couldn’t come under the shelter of the durasilk without physically pushing past him. By the time Maia had her boots on and was hurrying back across the tent to join the sergeant, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and had it in his hands.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

Maia looked at the jacket, then down at herself, before lifting her eyes back to his. “I’m already soaked, though.”

Huffing, Theron dropped the red leatheris unceremoniously over her head. “Just get going.”

She laughed and went, head ducked under the makeshift shield of his jacket as she darted out into the storm. Rusk nodded curtly and tromped after her. In moments the pair of them had receded into the haze of rainfall, splashing through the muck off towards the temp shelter that served as the Coalition’s command center.

Well, Theron thought. Shit.

He blew out a breath and shook himself a little in an effort to settle his jangling nerves, not that it helped much. Turning away, he moved to collect the datapad he’d set down, tapped out a quick command string.

By the time he’d satisfied himself that the tracer he’d dropped into his jacket pocket was reading properly, and that its directional signal could be routed to his ocular implant if he needed to, he had some of his equilibrium back. Another command sequence terminated the active homing program and set the tracer back into passive mode - a minor precaution, just in case.

There was, he thought, no sense in being excessive.

#swtor #shadow of revan #theron shan #theron shan x jedi knight #sensory prompts #oc: maia sunder #the adventures of jedi knight and disaster spy #good idea bad idea with theron shan #UST #fanfic #wittyblather #thank you for the prompt!!

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musical-in-theory · 5 years

Text

Magnificently Malcontent Pt 7

The house shook again. Jackie took off towards the stairs with no hesitation. Henrik cursed under his breath, “Dummkopf! He’s going to get himself killed.” The good doctor bounded after the hero. Chase tried to get up to follow, not wanting to leave his brothers to their own devices, but a tug on his wrist stopped him. He whipped his head around to find a hand on his wrist belonging to JJ. Chase could tell he was pleading for him to stay.

“Sorry, little dude. I have to go help. Marvin is still up there. We have to save him.” Chase looked back towards the stairs. He thought about everything that could be happening to the young magician. Chase was supposed to help keep his family safe, and now his little brother was involved with Anti. He was gonna need more than a few drinks after this.

JJ shook his head and signed, “Too late. Marvin is gone.” JJ had been helping Marvin with his magic for years. His magic was only ever purple, except for one time when it nearly blew up the entire house. JJ didn’t know as much as Marvin, but he knew enough to know that this blue and green light was extremely dangerous. Not anything that Marvin would try if he was in his right mind. His best friend was gone.

Chase’s eyes widened, “You don’t know that. We have to try. We- We have to do something.” He backed out of JJ’s grip and booked it for the stairs. He wasn’t going to let any more of his family slip between his fingers. He promised to protect his family, and he wasn’t going to let some glitch stop him from doing just that.

Chase raced up the stairs to the landing. He looked around wildly until he caught sight of Jackie and Henrik. He was about to run to them, but then he realized that they weren’t fighting. They were just standing there. It almost looked like they were in a trance. Cautiously, Chase made his way to his big brothers.

He walked in between them and turned to see their faces. Their jaws were slack and their shoulders relaxed. It was the exact opposite of the defensive posture Chase was expecting from the two. They both had a purple haze over their eyes. He fruitlessly tried to wave a hand in front of their faces, anything to get them to snap out of whatever was affecting them.

“That won’t work, you know,” a broken voice came from behind the young father. Chase dragged his attention from his brothers to the man behind him. As soon as his eyes shifted, Chase’s whole body went stiff and his face paled. Anti stood at the end of the hall. He had a sadistic smirk plastered across his face. His hand lingered on top of another figure standing beside him, petting his long hair. His face was obscured by shadow, but Chase had a bad feeling that he already knew who it was.

“Do you like my new pet, Chaser?” the glitch asked, taunting Chase. Chase didn’t move out of fear of what he would see if he did. That fear didn’t last long, though. “Here. Let me introduce you.” Anti laughed as he commanded his newest puppet to conjure blue fire within his hand. It lit up the figure’s face so that Chase could see him perfectly. Chase took a step back as he looked upon Marvin standing there. His mask covered his face, but he could still see the magician snarling at him with hate-filled eyes.

“I know it’s usually dogs that do the hunting, but I think I’ll make an exception for my little kitty here.” Anti’s laugh rang through the halls, and all Chase could think of was how grateful he was that JJ was still downstairs and not here to see this. Anti turned to Marvin and said, “You know what to do.” Marvin raised his other hand and started casting another spell.

Chase wanted to run away, but his legs wouldn’t move. One look down at them explained why. A blue current surrounded them. Chase knew instantly it was a variation of the leg-locker jinx Marvin used to cast on Jackie whenever the hero got on his nerves. Frozen to the spot, Chase looked back up at Marvin, trying desperately to find any trace of his little brother left in those eyes. All he found was a purple haze as the magician recited an incantation. Then everything went black.

He was falling in the darkness, deeper and deeper. After what felt like hours, he landed and the darkness faded away. Chase tried to get his bearings and found that he was back in the house he got with Stacy.

Two sets of laughing voices started drawing nearer, and Chase knew immediately who owned them. It was his kids. They bounded over to him and pulled him into a hug. Chase’s heart ached from how much he had missed them. He was still be showered with “I love you”s and such when Stacy sauntered into the room. She came up behind Chase and draped her arms around him.

“Where have you been, darling? We’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered into his ear. Chase bit back the sob rising in his chest. His family was here. They were whole again. Stacy sounded so sweet and his kids were so comforting, and yet it felt like something else was slipping away. Chase tried to pull on that loose thread, but his daughter tugged on his sleeve and grabbed his attention.

“Will you tell us a story? We wanna hear about all those trophies we found in the garage.” his eldest daughter asked. His son jumped up and down in agreement. For a second, Chase was completely confused. He didn’t have any trophies. He was just average. But then fantastic memories of all these accomplishments filled his mind. He was an MVP athlete. His own YouTube channel had tens of millions of followers who all adored him. Chase smiled down at his children, nodded, and began describing in detail events that just a minute ago he could’ve sworn never happened.

JJ felt shivers shooting up his spine as he heard the upstairs quiet down. He had hid behind the sofa after he heard Anti’s laughter. It was a terrible sound, one that sent him back to when JJ was first created. It was the same sound he heard anytime he saw blood or he was alone. It was the same sound Marvin had once helped him tune out.

Marvin. Marvin was up there, alone with the glitch demon. JJ was terrified, but his desperation to save his brother won out in the end. Slowly JJ raised his head up and looked to the stairs. The blue and green light was still shining bright. He carefully made his way to the stairs and ascended. What he saw when he reached the top nearly caused his legs to give out. A bit down the hallway were his big brothers, but they weren’t moving. All three of them were on their knees with their heads drooping down. Their eyes were pointed towards the ground but ultimately unseeing. In front of them were Anti and Marvin.

JJ ducked back down the stairs until he could only just see what was happening. Anti was walking in between the three egos and inspecting Marvin’s work. “And you’re sure they won’t wake up?” Marvin walked behind him with his head bowed.

“No, master, they’re in their own perfect little universes. They won’t even want to try to fight it. I can end it at your command.” Marvin answered in an obedient, monotone voice. JJ shivered again at the lack of inflection and emotion in his voice. He seemed so hollow.

Anti laughed again, “Good. I want to break them, and what better way than to destroy each of their paradises? Well, pet, it’s time to go.”

Marvin hesitated and looked up, “What about J- the other one?” JJ felt like he had been stabbed through the heart hearing Marvin refer to him like that, but at least he didn’t sound mindless in that moment.

Anti glitched over to the magician and roughly yanked his hair. “Do you still care what happens to him, hmm? Don’t you dare question me!” Anti’s glitches increased exponentially as his volume grew louder. He tossed Marvin to the side and continued, “We’ll deal with him soon enough. He’ll come to us. He wouldn’t dream of leaving his favorite brother with his worst nightmare after all.” Anti walked back over to Marvin and caressed the side of his face. When Marvin looked back up towards Anti, JJ could see that his eyes were filled with static.

Marvin nodded once and began the ritual that JJ vaguely recognized as one of his teleportation spells. Usually he would use it for small tricks or to spook one of his brothers, but this time the spell was bigger and far darker. In a blink of an eye all five of them were gone, and JJ was left alone amidst the suffocating silence.

Thanks so much for reading!! This was longest one yet, but I’m pretty happy with how everything turned out. As always, feedback is highly encouraged and always welcome. I love hearing from you guys so please comment, DM me, or maybe even send in an ask or two. If there’s anything you’re confused about or maybe just want a little insight into these maniacs that I write, just ask. I love answering. Thanks again and have a fantastic day!

Taglist:

@beerecordings @egopocalypse @hexatrash @whydoilovesomanyvillians @i-don-t-believe @aether-mae @nikkilbook @egos-n-others

#writing in theory #magnificently malcontent #marvin the magnificent #antisepticeye #jameson jackson #chase brody #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #jacksepticeye #jse egos #jse fanfiction

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bearly-writing · 5 years

Note

Hi, I’ve just found your fics and I’m in love! Seriously looking forward to binge reading all your bingo fills tonight ^^ could I request Faux-Affectionate Villian with Lotor and either Shiro or Keith? If that’s not ur cup of tea then maybe Lost Their Voice From Screaming? Have a great day !

First of all, thank you for this lovely message! Second of all I’m so sorry this has taken so long! Also I definitely am going to write the faux-affectionate villain fic (it definitely is my cup of tea) but I’ve had terrible writer’s block recently and for some reason I’m struggling with it so it might be a while! I’ve written this in the meantime, but I will write it :)

Sorry for the stop-gap! I hope you like it :)

Crosses are posted. I’m still taking requests for both Voltron and the Batfamily if anyone else wants to request something! :)

I Have A Mouth

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Lost Their Voice From Screaming

Characters: Shiro, Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Coran

Warnings: Implied torture, Blood

Summary: Shiro’s been screaming for hours.

Read it on AO3 here!

***

Shiro’s been screaming for hours.

Keith’s been pacing for almost as long.

It’s his fault that they’re in this situation in the first place. Keith had been the one to insist on responding to the distress call supposedly coming from one of the more obscure mamoran bases. Keith had been the one that had ignored the obvious signs of a trap and charged in half-baked even though they had no idea what might be waiting for them. Keith had been the one that the Galra had taken totally by surprise, had gripped around the neck and held a gun to, and forced the other Paladins to drop their weapons or risk splattering his brains across the walls.

Shiro was the one they had really been interested in.

They had shoved the paladins into a little airless cell, bordered on three sides by smooth metal, an energy barrier so thick that it’s impossible to see through on the other. The purple glow its throwing off is the only light afforded to them and it makes all of them look pale and grim, casting dark shadows across their faces: well, Lance and Hunk’s faces, Pidge and Keith are still wearing their helmets.

Shiro is still wearing his as well, wherever he is. It’s the only reason Keith has any idea what’s happening to him, because the sound of their leader’s pain is loud and close through the comms. They must have left his helmet on for specifically that reason, because Keith can’t think of any other advantage it gives, besides torturing them.

It’s working. Keith thinks he might go crazy from listening to Shiro’s distress.

At first, they had all had their helmets on. They had listened intently to the comm feedback - to the quiet murmur of their captor’s voices, Shiro’s even breaths and snarky replies. Waiting for the moment they would slip up - reveal something they could use to get out of here. They had sneered at the fact that the galra had left them with the ability to talk to each other - something they had seen as an advantage. Lance had made Shiro laugh with some silly joke that Keith can’t even remember now.

Then Shiro had started screaming.

It had happened utterly without warning. One moment Pidge had been talking them through the control panel they could just make out through the haze of energy, then Shiro had screamed, impossibly loud through the comms. The sound had pierced right through Keith’s skull, rattled through his chest. For a moment he hadn’t been able to breathe.

Then there had been several people shouting at once.

“Shiro!”

“What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

Keith hadn’t been able to squeeze anything past the lump in his throat, but he had thrown himself at the energy wall, had beat it with his fists, even though each touch had sent electricity sparking through him, and the wall had been solid enough to bruise.

Shiro had only whimpered in response.

After that, he hadn’t stopped screaming long enough to whimper again.

Hunk had been the first one to take his helmet off. In the purple haze, he had looked alarmingly pale. For a moment, Keith had been worried that he might be sick, but Hunk had simply set his helmet aside and pressed his hands over ears, as if removing the helmet wasn’t enough to block out the sounds. Lance had almost immediately followed suit, and there had been guilty relief on his face as he clutched his helmet on his lap.

Keith had glanced at Pidge, and known she wouldn’t do the same.

That had been hours ago now.

Shiro isn’t really screaming anymore. Instead there’s a high, thin sound, like nails being scraped across a chalkboard. It hurts even worse than the screaming, Keith thinks, because it means that Shiro doesn’t even have the energy to do that anymore. And then the sound stops altogether, cut off with a wet choking noise.

Pidge sits bolt upright and her eyes find Keith’s. They’re shiny with tears, huge and round in her white face. They have been for a while, but there’s something sharp and urgent in them now. Keith’s own panic rises to meet it, bounding up his throat and tightening in his chest.

From somewhere in the distance there’s a roar. The whole building shudders.

“What was that?” Lance scrambles upright, knocking his helmet to the floor. “Was that Black? Did something happen?”

There’s another horrible rumble, shifting the ground beneath their feet. Lance clutches at Keith with bony fingers. “Did something happen on the comms?”

“It just went quiet.”

Pidge scrambles upright too. Then she moves towards the energy barrier with purpose, stopping just before she touches the humming purple wall. It must be impossible to see anything through the haze and the visor of her helmet, but she peers through as if she can.

“Can you see anything?” Hunk asks, voice filtering through the comms now too. He’s put his helmet back on.

It’s still alarmingly quiet on Shiro’s end.

“No, I-“

An earth-shattering roar drowns her out. Black must be right above their heads now, and that knowledge sends something scurrying across Keith’s skin - Black would never hurt them, but the Lion’s aren’t always thinking straight when their paladins are hurt. All the little hairs on the back of Keith’s neck stand on end.

He manages to pull Lance to the ground before the ceiling collapses over their heads.

For a long moment all Keith can register is the crashing of debris, like thunder around him, as he crouches, half-thrown over Lance. Something slams into his shoulder hard enough to tear a cry of pain out of him and then everything goes abruptly still.

Keith can hear Lance breathing heavily beside him in the sudden silence. Someone else’s ragged breaths are loud through the comms too; Keith can’t tell if they’re Shiro’s or not.

“Lance?” There’s shifting somewhere nearby. “Keith?”

“We’re here,” Lance calls, a little shakily, as Keith starts to struggle free from the rubble. It doesn’t take long once Hunk reaches them, digging them out almost single-handedly. When Keith finally surfaces he finds the Yellow Paladin pale beneath his helmet, a chunk of ceiling still cradled in his arms. Pidge is still crouching by the energy wall. The energy wall that no longer exists.

Lance must come to the realisation at the same time because he crows, “It’s gone,” so loudly that Keith’s ears ring.

“The damage must have disabled it.” Pidge straightens up and surveys the half-collapsed frame. When she looks back at them, her eyes are bright under her visor.

“What are we waiting for then?” Keith growls, already clambering over the rubble. “Lets go and get him.”

“Wait.”

But Keith ignores Hunk. The silence from Shiro’s end of the comms presses hard and cold against his skin. If he doesn’t find Shiro soon, it will crush him.

“Wait, guys. We don’t have any weapons or any idea where they’re even keeping Shiro. Charging in half-cocked is what got us into this situation in the first place.”

Fingers brush against Keith’s armour, but he shakes them off, turning to Hunk with a snarl. He’s right - of course he’s right - but that only makes Keith angrier. Who knows what torture the Galra have been subjecting Shiro to whilst the other paladins have sat pretty in their cell? Who knows why he suddenly stopped screaming? Why Black chose that moment to attack?

Every second they waste is another second that Shiro is in danger.

But Hunk is right: running through a Galra base with no weapons and no clue where they’re even going is a terrible idea - as likely to get them recaptured as it is to get Shiro rescued.

Patience yields focus.

So Keith swallows his automatic frustration and turns to face the other paladins instead.

Hunk offers a watery smile. “OK, does anyone have a plan?”

***

They find Shiro exactly where Pidge’s hastily constructed map had said he would be. Finding their weapons had been slightly more difficult, but now Keith’s bayard is gripped tight in his fist, his mamoran blade a comforting weight beneath his armour.

Now Keith smashes his bayard against the sentry that had been standing guard over Shiro and watches it crumple to the ground with vicious satisfaction.

Pidge and Hunk work quickly on the cuffs holding Shiro in place against the cold metal table as Lance takes up position by the door, his own bayard gripped tight in his hands.

Their leader is still dressed in his uniform, helmet and all, and at first glance, there’s nothing obviously wrong with him. His visor is up, showing his pale face, damp with sweat, the scar across his nose stark against his skin. Shiro’s eyes are open too, which is a surprise. They track each paladin as they move around him.

When Hunk finally manages to release the cuffs holding him in place, Shiro bolts upright as if electrocuted, fumbles with his helmet until he can drag it over his head, then just sits for a long moment, panting into his lap. Sweat presses his hair flat against his head, dark and slick. But other than that there are no obvious signs of his torture. Other than the fine tremor that’s mostly hidden by his armour.

“Shiro?” Keith reaches for him automatically. The Black Paladin flinches, but he doesn’t shake Keith off.

“What happened?” Hunk asks, reaching for Shiro too and laying a broad hand across his back. “We heard-“

A pause. Then Shiro makes an odd, strangled sound, gagging around nothing. Blood splatters across his chin, dark and wet against the glove of his armour when he reaches up to press a hand against his throat.

Keith’s stomach clenches painfully. That’s not good. Coughing up blood is decidedly not good.

“Shit.” And suddenly Lance is very close behind him. “Shit, Shiro.”

They’re crowding too close around him. The Black Paladin’s shoulders are tense, hunched up around his ears. Keith wants to tell them to back off, but he’s crowding Shiro just as much as they are.

“Are you hurt?” Pidge asks, as if she hasn’t just listened to hours of Shiro screaming, as if Shiro hasn’t just choked up blood. “How badly are you injured?”

Another long pause as Shiro breathes, ragged, wet pants that sound as though they hurt coming up. When Shiro finally looks up, his eyes are glazed, staring blankly, as if he’s looking right through them.

“‘M fine,” he says, finally - or tries to. The word strangles in his throat. Comes out sounding as though he’s been gargling broken glass. Keith winces at the sound of it. Sees Hunk do the same on Shiro’s other side.

The fingers of his prosthetic flutter at the hollow of his throat as Shiro grimaces around the pain. There��s a dry, rattling sound, like Shiro’s trying to clear his throat, then he flinches, gags.

Keith’s hand tightens automatically around Shiro’s arm and the Black Paladin throws him an apologetic look.

“S’rry,” he tries. The word comes out on an awful rasp of air.

“Don’t talk. Let’s just get you back to the castle.”

Shiro’s mouth moves, throat working, as if he wants to say something else. Nothing comes out. When Keith tugs gently on his arm Shiro allows himself to be guided off of the table. Allows Hunk to duck under his arm and take most of his weight. It’s disconcerting, seeing Shiro sag so easily against the Yellow Paladin’s side - he must be hurting badly. The thought makes Keith’s own throat ache.

He wonders again, exactly what the Galra were doing to Shiro. It’s not a pleasant thought to linger on.

Keith hovers close to Shiro as Hunk helps him stumble out of the room. Part of him wants to grasp Shiro’s arm again, but Hunk has his flesh hand slung over his shoulders, and the prosthetic is tucked tight against Shiro’s chest. Instead Keith just grips his bayard tighter, flanking them as Pidge moves to lead the way and Lance slips in to protect their backs.

It’s surprisingly easy to navigate back through the hallways. Most of the base must be preoccupied with the Black Lion, who is still causing trouble if the distant rumbles are anything to go by.

Still, it’s impossible to totally avoid detection - they’re a large group and they’re moving slowly. When they round one of the many twisting corners they run right into a group of sentries moving quickly towards them. Lance has taken two of them out before any of them even realise what’s happening and Pidge takes down another, but there are four left and Hunk can’t hold his bayard with only one hand. Keith moves to intercept them as they barrel towards them but even he can’t take on four at once and the move puts him too close to the line of fire for Lance to get a good shot off. Hunk tries to twist away as one of the sentries lunges for him but suddenly Shiro is moving and his prosthetic clashes against the sentry’s weapon with a screech of metal.

The tip of Keith’s bayard slides under one of the sentry’s outstretched arm and straight through its chest. At the same time, Shiro separates his sentry’s head from its chest with a brilliant flash of purple.

Two left. Keith spins, then: “Keith!”

The name sounds as though it’s been punched out of Shiro. An awful, painful rasp. It’s strained, as if it’s trying to be a shout but can’t manage it. In fact, Keith only hears it because he and Shiro are so close.

Luckily he does hear it, because he just manages to avoid one of the last sentries trying to take off his head. Keith brings his blade up just in time, then Pidge ducks in and takes it out with a quick thrust of her taser, whilst Lance dispatches the final one with brisk efficiency.

When all of the sentries are lying in a heap of robotic body parts, Keith turns to Shiro. The Black Paladin looks even paler than before, as if the exertion of lighting his prosthetic has drained any of the remaining energy from him. He’s still slumped against Hunk, who holds him upright with surprising ease. The pain on his face twists something deep in Keith’s chest.

Shiro offers him a thin lipped smile.

“Goo-“

“Don’t talk,” Hunk reprimands him, before he can get much more than a rattle out of his torn-up throat. Keith winces anyway.

“Let’s just get back to the castle.”

***

When they finally get to the castle, Shiro refuses a pod.

“No,” he says, even though it comes out as a rasp, even though he’s still slung over Hunk’s shoulders. He pulls against the Yellow Paladin’s grip. Shakes his head. There’s something feverish about his expression - eyes wide and glazed, as if he isn’t quite seeing them. “Not-“

“Come on Shiro, you’re hurt.”

But Shiro just shakes his head, back and forth, as if he can’t stop it. “‘M fine.”

“No you’re not Shiro.” Lance’s voice is plaintive where Keith’s would have been harsh. “You were - we heard you screaming. Please just get in the pod.”

Shiro flinches at that and a horrible flash of guilt crosses his face. As if it’s his fault that any of this happened. As if it’s his fault that the Galra had spent hours torturing him. Lance flinches too, looking horrified.

“He’s right Shiro,” Pidge interjects. “They hurt you.”

“Th’y didn-“

“Shiro-“

“No.” It must hurt, because it sounds awful - grating up his throat. But Shiro doesn’t so much as wince this time.

“OK Number One.” Coran steps forward before Shiro can force more words out. “If you don’t want to get in the pod, you don’t have to. We aren’t going to force you. But if you are injured you need to tell us.”

For a long moment, Shiro stays tense, his eyes flickering around the room, as if he’s worried they’ll descend on him the moment he lets his guard down. It hurts, to be regarded with such suspicion. It hurts more, knowing exactly why Shiro feels he might need it.

“Please,” Keith tries, a little desperately. “You would expect the same from us.”

That seems to set something loose, and Shiro slumps suddenly against Hunk’s side. For a moment there’s strained exhaustion on his face, before he schools it into something less obviously pained.

Keith hates that.

“Let’s get you a little more comfortable, then I’ll give you a quick once over.” Coran’s voice is gentle as he helps ease Shiro off of Hunk’s shoulder and onto one of the metal tables. At first, Shiro fights that too before he finally slumps against the metal.

Either Shiro’s too exhausted to protest the rest of the examination, or he genuinely doesn’t mind Coran prodding and poking and shining various lights at him, because he stays still and mostly silent as he does so. Eventually Coran concludes that there’s no real physical damage at all, besides his throat - and Keith tries very hard not to think about what they might have done to Shiro to cause him so much pain without any evidence left behind - and Coran offers a soothing spray to try to help it heal.

When Shiro swallows wetly, smiles, and offers a: “Thanks,” he already sounds better.

#badthingshappenbingo #prompt: lost their voice from screaming #shiro #keith #pidge #lance #hunk #coran #fanfiction #my writing #torture tw #blood tw

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swimmingwolf59 · 5 years

Text

Together We Cry

(A/N) I’m so late omg but yay, giomis week is here!! I won’t be posting anywhere near on time (obviously), but I’ll try my best to at least get SOME of the prompts up during the week! I at least managed for day 1! XD Somehow I took what was supposed to be a fluffy and/or sexy prompt and wrote 1200 words of sadness lol, so sorry xD;; va gives me too many damn emotions

On that note, MAJOR VENTO AUREO ENDING SPOILERS AHEAD!!! I haven’t read purple haze feedback yet though (I really need to!), so sorry if this doesn’t fit with that canon! Just pretend it’s an AU lol

I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!!! <3

(Also read this on AO3)

The first time Mista saw Giorno cry was at Buccellati’s funeral.

It was weird to think about that – Buccellati’s funeral. It felt unreal, like a nightmare, except Mista had yet to wake up. He, Giorno, and Trish were all still in shock about it; it hit Mista especially hard when he realized that almost everyone he had known before he met Giorno was dead. First Abbacchio, then Narancia, and now Buccellati too… It was hard to believe. Buccellati especially; he had seemed like such a rock, someone that would always be around in the end to tell Mista that everything would be okay.

And now nothing would ever be okay again.

Mista felt absolutely lost without them. Sometimes he found himself faced with a hard mission from Giorno and his initial thought was still to go ask Buccellati for advice. Whenever he encountered something outrageously stupid, he would whirl around, ready to shout at Narancia about it, only to remember there was no one there. The kitchen was eerily silent without Abbacchio lurking around in it, and the blatant absence of the smell of coffee made it even worse. Mista refused to go in the kitchen by himself because of that.

And based on how the others were acting, he was sure they felt the same way.

They had all flocked to Polnareff after it first happened, desperate for an adult-figure who could hold them and tell them it would be okay. Of course, Polnareff had never tried to convince them that it would all be okay, but he always sat and listened if someone needed to talk, or gave a blanket to someone who had passed out on the floor of the turtle from crying. That first night after it all happened, Mista had sat on the couch in the turtle and cried so hard that the couch was still stained with his tears. Polnareff had sat with him, a silent, comforting presence, and offered him some warm tea when he was done crying. Mista was endlessly grateful for it.

It was still hard, but he’d felt slightly better after that. He was slowly picking himself back up again, relying less on Polnareff for basic needs like food and sleep. But Giorno – Mista could tell that the young Mafia don still held the weight of their friends’ deaths in his chest.

He hadn’t cried once since that day. He’d always sit in the turtle with Mista, Trish, and Polnareff, knees to his chest, but he never shed a tear. He just shook until it seemed like he would shiver out of his own skin. Mista had always wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him in some way, but he hadn’t known how. Plus, he’d felt so destroyed himself that he doubted he would’ve been much comfort.

He always hoped that Giorno would confide in him, but he never did. Instead, Giorno seemed entirely focused on taking his rightful place as Passione’s next boss, and Mista, despite his concerns, took his rightful place at his side.

The first thing they did as rulers of Passione was find Fugo. Polnareff had done some research to find out where he was hiding out nowadays, and Giorno and Mista went there themselves to tell him what had happened. Mista felt like falling apart all over again when he saw the way Fugo’s face broke, the way Purple Haze shimmered to life by his side for a split second before he dissolved it with obvious effort.

Fugo came back with them, and he and Mista spent most of the train ride remembering and crying about their fallen comrades. And while Giorno joined in with what little anecdotes he had, he still didn’t cry.

A week into the new position, they started working out the funerals. It took them a little while to arrange them, mainly because it was so hard to find anyone they trusted to do the service. Many priests had sided with the old Passione and had either killed themselves or were in hiding when Giorno took over. Eventually, Polnareff tracked down one of the only priests in Italy it seemed who was uninvolved with the Mafia at all, and he was contacted immediately.

They buried them all together, on the same day, because Mista was sure he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stand to go through three different funerals. He watched Abbacchio be put in the ground, followed by Narancia, and now Buccellati. Mista’s face was streaming with tears and he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend that it wasn’t.

He glanced over at Giorno beside him. Giorno was wearing a black version of his pink suit and he stood stiffly as his eyes glanced back and forth between the priest and the coffin sitting next to the final open burial spot. His hair and make-up were impeccable; Mista had caught him fussing at his vanity for nearly two hours this morning, trying to get it right. When Mista had suggested he just leave it for today, Giorno had snapped at him that he had to get it right; it was the least he could do for them.

And well, Mista hadn’t been able to argue with that, so he’d slipped in and helped him keep the rollers in place as Giorno bobby-pined his fussy curls back.

Then, Giorno had been shaking again, and his eyes had been angry but free of tears.

Now, Giorno stood stock still as tears poured down his face. It was such a shock that for a second Mista thought it must have started raining, but no, it was goddamn clear blue skies, like Abbacchio, Narancia, and Buccellati didn’t even deserve that much.

When Giorno caught him looking, he stiffened and hastily began wiping at his eyes. Mista gently took Giorno’s arms away from his face and pulled Giorno to his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Giorno hesitated for only a moment before burying his face in Mista’s shirt and letting out a shaky sob.

Mista pressed a kiss to the top of Giorno’s head and whispered into his hair, “You don’t have to feel ashamed about crying in front of me. If there was any a time to cry, it would definitely be now.”

“Men…men don’t cry,” Giorno mumbled, but there was no conviction behind his words, just a distant echo.

Mista held him tighter. “Bullshit – I’m crying like a fucking baby right now, and I consider myself a man.”

Giorno snorted a little but didn’t say anything more. Mista felt his fingers dig tightly into the back of his shirt.

Later, when the service was done and everyone had filtered out except Mista, Giorno, Trish, and Fugo, Giorno squeezed Mista’s waist and leaned back to look into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Mista cupped Giorno’s face and gently wiped the remainder of his tears away with his thumbs. “Even you need to cry sometimes.”

Giorno smiled and reached up to squeeze Mista’s wrists gently. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

Mista huffed out a small laugh and pulled Giorno tightly against his side as they followed Fugo and Trish out of the cemetery. “You got it, boss.”

#giomis week 2019 #giomis #guido mista #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #jean pierre polnareff #major va ending spoilers #sadness #funerals #day 1 #firsts #my writing

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3ndoftheline · 7 years

Text

Will You Stay?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Don’t let go of him. He needs you. He wants you stay, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

Warnings: Angst, all that good shit, it’ll end with a sort of cliffhanger idk i like to call it an interpretive ending but whatever floats your boat, also the obvious language warnings and mentions of baby buck not being okay :-(

Word Count: 9.1k (i’m SORRY)

Author’s Note: so, again, thank you to my inspo tag bc I saw this quote and it’s been churning in my head for so long but I’ve never had the chance to actually sit down and write it. This literally took me a full year to write so let’s see how it goes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also this could possibly go into a part two if you guys want it. I have an idea for it but if people want to use their imagination to create their own ending then by all means! Anyways, feedback is more than welcome and please leave requests; I’d love to see what you guys want to read :)

It’s funny how easily someone’s world can come crashing down. How easily the bright colors that once painted your world turn to an ashen gray within a few short minutes. It’s sickening that love can raise you up to the sky and show you the world and the beautiful blues and golds of the sky. It’s intoxicating how drunk you feel off of the beauty and the glory of having it all, of seeing it all. How warm you feel, how weightless and limitless, like you’re the air. Twisting and turning, light and free. Young and spirited, wild and reckless and untamed.

Poets, authors and painters convey love with the prettiest words and the lightest shades of pink and yellow and white. They romanticize the fall, the moments before the leap and how wonderful it feels when you finally do.

What they never tell you about is after the fall.

When you land. When you hit the ground so hard you feel yourself slip away for a little bit, your head spinning and you’re grasping for that feeling to be light again. They never tell you about how tight your chest is and how much it fucking hurts, like you’re bleeding yet desperately trying to sew yourself back together at the same time.

No, they never tell you about after the fall. Because where’s the romance in that? Nobody wants to write about the hardships, the pain and emptiness. Nobody wants to look at a painting splattered with red and black and the darkest purples. Where was the beauty in that?

There was no beauty. There was nothing to put on a pedestal, nothing to turn into a pretty picture with a smiling face. All that is left are cracked smiles and bruised knuckles and whispered hopes of trying, begging for an answer. There is no beauty in stained cheeks and watery eyes. There is no romance in a broken chest and empty lungs.

Beauty is pain, perhaps, but pain is not beauty.

Pain is not painted with flowers and rich silks and velvet trim. Pain is lurking in the shadows, the silent master that waits patiently for its turn to remind you that beauty is not everything, that love is misconception, confusion and a liar. Pain is the reality that you refuse to believe in when you’re suspended in the clouds.

And how stupid was I, how naïve I was to believe I could escape reality. That I could live in my pretty little painting. Idyllic and serene and fashioned perfectly to what I wanted. Created by my own fantasies and selfish heart, my pretty little painting. My perfect world. Gone, without a warning and without a sign.

Beauty is pain, but pain is not beauty. And how I wished I had realized that sooner.

I stared at the wall; the blank white wall was all I saw. I focused on the chipped paint and tried to regulate my breathing.

The apartment was quiet. Deadly silent, not even my own breathing could be heard.

A loud clang of a coffee mug meeting the edge of the counter jolted me from my sleep. The string of curses that followed forced my eyes open as I tried to curl deeper into the mattress. Sleep seemed to evade me as the strong scent of crushed coffee grounds filled the apartment, followed by a low whistle that didn’t follow a tune but was catchy in its own way.

I stayed in bed until the heavy footsteps and continued whistling drew closer to the bedroom.

“Good morning,” a deep voice broke through the last of the drowsy haze that covered my eyes. I ran my eyes over the low slung sweatpants and loose gray shirt, the scoop neck revealed the slight swell of his pecs. When I finally met his piercing blue gaze, my heart stuttered wildly in my chest and judging by the smirk on his face, he could hear it.

“Hi,” I answered in a soft voice, completely anticlimactic but it was all I could muster. He chuckled and bent down, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. He brushed the hair from my neck, the warm skin of his palm elicited goosebumps over my arms.

“I made you coffee,” he murmured as his thumb traced my jaw.

I hummed. “I know, I heard you.”

He winced and I couldn’t help but laugh as I sat up, letting the comforter slide from my shoulders. I crossed my legs as I took the coffee mug from the bedside table and took a tentative sip, careful of the steam that curled from the rim. His hand slid from my neck to my shoulders then dipped beneath my shirt to trace my spine. I watched him, amazed how the sun light reflected in his eyes and how warm his skin looked.

“Will you stay?” I whispered as I glanced at the clock. He usually had to leave me early in the morning, most of the times before I woke. It was rare for him to stay past nine. I was lucky if he even stayed until nine.

He smiled, soft and apologetic as he kissed my lips briefly, humming that silly little tune under his breath.

“Only for a little bit,” he replied but I nodded anyways. I took what I could get it. So we sat as I drank my coffee and chatted aimlessly, stopping every now and then for a lazy kiss. He made me laugh so hard I spilled coffee onto the white sheets of the bed, but I didn’t care. I saw it as another memory, a little reminder.

And when he took my mug back into the kitchen, he was still whistling that tune, quietly but it reverberated throughout the apartment until the birds outside were singing along too.

There was no whistling now. No humming. No empty coffee mugs and no chatty birds. There was nothing.

I turned my head away from the wall and immediately my eyes fell to the droplets of coffee, still stained on the sheets of the bed. They hadn’t gone away, no matter how many times I washed the sheets. But I hadn’t minded then, I had liked knowing that they would always be there. The faint coffee smell always sent be back to that morning, that little slice of heaven. Now it seemed to be taunting, reminding me of everything good that I had lost.

“I’ll kill him,” a voice spoke from the doorway. I chuckled, but it was humorless.

“No, you won’t,” I whispered. I tried to take my eyes away from the drops of faint brown, but I couldn’t. I could feel his lips on my forehead, temple and lips. I could feel the giddiness in my stomach and the fluttering in my chest. I felt it all.

“No, you’re right.” There was dip as the mattress moved to accommodate the extra weight. “That would be too easy. We need a better plan.”

I smiled but it felt wrong. There was a flash of red in my peripheral as a head came down to rest on my shoulder. A sigh rattled through my body as a fresh wave of tears threatened to consume me again but I fought them. I wouldn’t cry. Not again.

“I’ll be fine, Nat.” It sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince her. Perhaps I was.

“Sure you will,” her voice had an easy confidence to it, something I wished I possessed. “But you’re not fine now. And that’s okay.”

I shook my head as I shrugged her off and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “What a way to end the week,” I chuckled bitterly as my palms became slick with tears. Natasha laid a gentle hand on my back and was silent. She didn’t try to assure me that everything would be okay, that the world would answer my prayers that this day would end and the next day would be better. She knew. She knew how easily fate switched hands.

She knew what I knew, except she accepted it long before I did.

I gripped my umbrella tightly as the rain pattered against the polyester, the cool air bit at my cheeks as I waited at the crosswalk. It seemed the white man would never appear, just the harsh red hand telling me to stop. I sighed and tucked myself tighter into my coat as I allowed my eyes to gaze out to my surroundings until the fell upon a flower shop that acted as a coffee shop too. The faint scent of coffee and buttery scones caused a harsh ache to flourish in my chest.

“Jesus, how much sugar do you take?” He raised an eyebrow at me as I sat idly in one of the wrought iron chairs. The air was clear and the sun was strong as the bustling streets of Brooklyn seemed like an afterthought as I stared at him.

“Enough to make me happy,” I shot back. He shook his head but I could see the smile across his face as he made his way back to the counter to get me more sugar packets.

“You know this shit is fake, right? This isn’t what real sugar tastes like.”

“Excuse me. Did I judge you when you tore through that whole pack of gummy worms last night? No. So let me use my fake sugar in my coffee.”

He smirked and handed me the pink packets. He sat down and picked off a piece of blueberry muffin and popped it into his mouth. He was beautiful. Mahogany hair pulled into a loose bun as his strong jaw worked at the muffin. I hid behind my coffee cup to hide my blush as the sweetness nearly burned my throat. Perfect.

“Wait here,” he said as he abruptly stood up. I didn’t even have a chance to question him nor remind him that I couldn’t go anywhere since he was my ride. Instead, I waited while I sipped away at my coffee and people watched. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard a distant pair of footfalls become louder. I turned my head and saw him walking towards me, a single rose clutched in his left hand.

“For you,” he murmured. My heart nearly fell out of my chest as I gasped softly. He normally didn’t do romantic gestures. He wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of guy. Any sort of affection I got was behind locked doors where no one would see but us.

I took the flower, afraid if I reacted to quickly the moment would shatter. The faint scent tickled my nose and I couldn’t help but smile. A hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb brushed over the rise of my cheekbone. It was fleeting, it was quick, but I felt the burn for hours after.

“Will you stay?” I whispered, staring into his bright blue eyes and begging for a different answer. His smile was forlorn as his eyes flickered to the rose, then to me.

“Only for a little bit,” he murmured then took the empty sugar packets in his hand and turned on his heel to throw them out.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Nothing but a memory and a rose to remind me that it was real.

I turned my head away, cursing the burn in my eyes. It had been two weeks since I had last cried over him and I refused to break that streak. I was finally doing better. I finally buried the pain deep enough so that it didn’t matter anymore.

The red hand changed to the white man and the crowd around my pushed me forward, leaving the memory behind me as the dismal rain pattered against my umbrella.

I moved four months after he left. The apartment was too suffocating; too much of him was left. Every time I stepped outside the streets of Brooklyn reminded me of him. I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing something that made me think of him. When my job had an opening in Boston, I pounced immediately and without a second thought I told my landlord I was leaving that month and paid the last of my rent.

“I wish you weren’t leaving.” Natasha frowned as I zipped up my suitcase, having to sit on the top due to the amount of clothes I had managed to stuff inside.

“Hey, it’s not forever,” I assured her as I rolled the suitcase out to the living room. “It’s like, a two hour ride in the jet, if that. I’m sure you’ll find some way to stop by after every mission.”

“He misses you,” she whispered and I froze as my heart crunched painfully in my chest.

“Nat, don’t.” I stalked into the kitchen and began to close the boxes filled with plates and cups.

“I know he’s why you’re leaving,” she murmured as she followed me. I recoiled like she had stuck me with a hot iron. “I know the job in Boston is good, but you don’t have to go. You don’t have to leave.”

“Yes I do.” I turned to face her. Her eyes regarded me with a soft sadness that made my mouth dry and my throat clench. “There’s nothing here for me, Nat. I came to Brooklyn for him. He’s gone. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“If you just talked–”

“Natasha,” I finally snapped. I cursed the break in my voice as I turned my face away.

She sighed reluctantly and walked forward. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just – I don’t want you to leave. You’re like my sister, y’know?”

I smiled and felt a surge of gratefulness for her and flung my arms around her. She stiffened but relaxed a bit as she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m not far. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I know. I’ve tried.” She smirked as I feigned offense. And just like that, the playful atmosphere returned but neither of us could ignore the taste of bitterness that tinged the air around us.

Mornings were not my thing. They weren’t something I avidly wanted to be a part of, especially on the weekends. So when some unseen force woke me up at seven on a Saturday morning, I was anything but happy. Yet, sleep evaded me and with a frustrated groan, I kicked off the covers and made my way into the kitchen. When I turned on the light, a scream forced itself out of my mouth when I caught a glimpse of the figure sitting at the breakfast bar.

“Hey,” the voice said, unphased and I immediately clutched my chest as I glared at the shadowy form.

“What the fuck Steve. Couldn’t you have knocked?”

Steve shrugged as he leaned forward. His blonde hair was limp against his forehead and his skin was paler than normal. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh, so sneaking into my apartment is your next best option?” He shrugged again and I rolled my eyes. “You Avengers need to learn a thing or two about privacy, Jesus.” Scowling, I stalked to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

I pulled out another and went to my Keurig and powered it on. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked as I stopped by the refrigerator to grab the creamer.

“Nice place you have here.” Steve ignored my question as he glanced around my apartment. “Boston suits you.”

I nodded as I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out his play. “Yeah, I love it here. It’s peaceful.”

His eyebrows flickered up before the settled back down and he stared at the Keurig. He looked haunted. I frowned at his gaunt expression and turned to the Keurig and inserted Black Silk and slid his cup beneath the spout and pressed a few buttons and soon coffee was pouring into his cup. I knew how he took his coffee I had made it for him only how many times at the Facility. As soon as the coffee finished, I added creamer and one sugar before stirring idly and slid the mug to him.

He nodded his thanks and wrapped his hands around the mug. I saw the slight tremble to his fingers as he gripped the ceramic and I frowned again.

“Steve,” I murmured. “What’s going on?”

He flicked his eyes up and seemed surprised for a moment. “I forgot how perceptive you are. Bucky always loved that about you.” I winced at his name and immediately turned my head to the floor. Steve sighed and set down his cup and rubbed a hand over his weary face. For the first time, he looked his age, 98 years old and tired of the world. “Something’s happened. Things aren’t so good…at the facility,” he muttered and my blood ran cold. I gripped the edge of the counter as I struggled to remain composed.

“Is Natasha–?”

“She’s okay, it’s not her,” he assured me quickly and I visibly relaxed. “She wanted to be here but she had to stay.”

I furrowed my brow as I stared at Steve, my brain turning to try and keep up. “What happened? Why couldn’t she be here?”

Steve swallowed as his shoulders hunched forward. “She had to watch Bucky.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.

“Watch Bucky?” His name felt weird against my lips. It was the first time I had spoken his name in months and automatically I felt something stir deep inside me. “Steve, what are you trying to tell me? What’s going on?”

Steve stared at the creamy liquid inside his mug. When his eyes finally met mine I was shocked at the pain that swam in the blue irises. “Bucky…he’s lost it. He, I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

My heart shattered for Steve as I saw the hopelessness weigh him down and gray his features. “Steve…” I whispered softly.

“He’s just…he won’t eat. He won’t sleep, he won’t talk to anyone. He hasn’t left his room in two weeks. Nothing I say matters. It’s the…this is the worst episode he’s ever had. I’ve never seen him like this in my life.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I rounded the breakfast bar and collected Steve into a hug. He didn’t relax. His shoulders still tense but he let me rub his back. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I am.” I sighed softly as I pressed my cheek to his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you Steve, you know how he gets. There’s nothing you can do, nothing any of us can do.”

“Yes there is,” he whispered and pulled back as he stared at me. Instantly, I knew what he was going to say and I began shaking my head.

“Steve–”

“Please, listen. Please,” he begged. “He needs you. He’s not…he hasn’t been the same without you.”

I shook my head again, this time more adamant. “He doesn’t need me,” I whispered.

“He does. He’s…he does, believe me, please.” Steve sighed and carded his hand through his hair roughly. “I can’t…I can’t help him. I can’t say anything, I can’t do anything. But if you…if you could just see him, just talk to him. Maybe–”

“I’ll make it worse.” My voice was hollow and it didn’t sound like me. “I promise Steve, I’m the last person you want there.”

“No, goddammit,” Steve growled as he glared at me, years of pain burned in his eyes. “Don’t you see? He’s not…he’s not Bucky. He’s pretended that he’s been fine but he’s not.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t abandon him, please. Don’t. Not now, please.”

“Abandon him?” I laughed. It was humorless and empty as I backed away from Steve. “He’s the one who left me, Steve. You don’t…you have no idea what he said…”

“Hey,” I called out when I heard the front door open. “I’m making dinner, hope you’re–” My words died in my throat when I heard the dorm slam shut again, the force shook the apartment. I froze and listened as heavy feet stormed from the door into the kitchen. I turned and saw his face, brooding and dark and I knew it was going to be one of those nights.

“How was training?” I tried. He ignored me as he strode to the fridge and ripped open the door nearly taking it off its hinges. He peered inside then scowled heavily before slamming it shut again. He didn’t offer me a glance as he stalked out again. I sighed heavily as I stirred the pasta and put the lid on. My first instinct was to run after him but I knew that wouldn’t do me any good. When he got in these moods, the only thing I could do was give him his space until he calmed down enough to come out.

I ate dinner by myself and stowed a plate for him in the microwave. I cleaned the dishes and went through a movie before I looked at the clock and realized it was past ten and he still hadn’t made an appearance. With a resigned sigh, I steeled my nerves and approached the bedroom door. Slowly, I creaked it open and found him lying on the bed face up. His hands clutched the sheets so tightly I could see the tears in the fabric and the whole room crackled with tense energy.

“Bucky,” I murmured. “Your dinner’s cold.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered and I tried not to flinch. I hated when he got this. Angry at everything but most of all, angry at himself.

“Yes you do,” I said as I closed the door behind me. I stepped forward until I could sit down on the bed, careful to keep my distance. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

“Nothin’.”

“Please,” I whispered. “I hate seeing you like this.”

Bucky laughed and I looked up. I wished I hadn’t. There was so much anger trapped in his blue eyes it made my skin crawl. “And what, you think I like being like this? You think I enjoy doing this?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know that,” I protested. He snarled as he sat up and the sheets tore with him.

“Then what did you mean? You hate this part of me? Is this not good enough for you? Sorry love, this is who I am. Can’t always please you, can I?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Forget it,” he snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and clutched his head in his hands. My heart cracked in my chest as I watched his shoulders shake from the tremendous weight that constantly threatened to suffocate him. “You can’t fix me. I can’t be saved,” he muttered.

“Bucky, I don’t want to fix you. There’s nothing to be fixed.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You know damn well I’m as fucked up as anyone. That’s why you’re here. You want to help me, make me better. Change me. I can’t change, can’t you see that? Can’t you understand?”

“I don’t want you to change, can’t you see that?” I met his eyes as I begged him to understand. “I want to help you, please, let me.”

“Help me?” He scoffed. “Help me? You can’t help me, you don’t understand. You’ll never, ever understand.”

“Then help me understand,” I shot back as I leaned forward. “Let me in, please Bucky. Don’t try to do this yourself, please.”

“You don’t get it,” he sneered as his upper lip curled. “You come from a perfect fucking world. A perfect fucking family, white picket fence and everything. You’ve got your perfect fucking friends and your perfect fucking job. You don’t know a thing about what I go through, you don’t know jack shit. Stop pretending you understand because you don’t.”

I gaped in silence as his words lashed out like a whip, scalding over my face. “You don’t mean that,” I whispered.

“You think so?” He growled as he stood up abruptly, his blue eyes like ice as he vibrated with anger. “You think I need you? You can’t do anything for me, you’ve never been able to help and you never will. I don’t need you, I’ve never needed you.”

“Bucky, stop,” I pleaded. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be. I’ve never seen him this angry, never in my life.

“Fuckin’…you know what? Forget it.” He whirled around and stormed out of the bedroom. I sat in shock, my eyes wet with tears without even realizing it. I listened as the door was thrown open and winced as it slammed shut and shook the apartment. In the silence that followed, I crumpled onto the bed and gripped the holes he had made in the sheets as I tried desperately to control my breathing.

It’s not real, he didn’t mean it. It’s just a dream, it’ll be okay, I thought to myself like a mantra but the more I said it the less I believed it.

“Will you stay?” I whispered into his pillow as tears burned against my skin.

The silence that followed was the only answer I needed as I finally let the sobs rack my body.

“He needs you,” Steve whispered and I shook my head. I knew I was crying, I couldn’t help it. The memory of the night burned like a fresh burn.

“Believe me when I say this, he doesn’t,” I whispered as I backed up against the counter. The Keurig was hot behind me but I ignored it.

“He keeps asking for you,” Steve said and I closed my eyes at the fresh pain the flared in my chest. “Every time…every, every day. He always asks for you. And then – we have to tell him that you’re not there. And he just…he just breaks and I don’t know what to do.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” I whispered as I looked at Steve. “You know that, when he has his episodes he’ll say whatever comes to mind.”

Steve shook his head adamantly. “Not now. He begs for you, he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. Please. He needs you, he misses you so much.” He held his hand up when I tried to interrupt and I reluctantly kept it shut. “I know, I know what he said. He told me and so did Nat. He hates himself for it, every day he blames himself for making you leave. He’s scared. He’s so scared and he doesn’t know what to do but he needs you. Please, don’t let him go. He just…I know what he said and I know it hurt more than anything. But don’t give up. Not yet.”

I was really crying now and I furiously tried to wipe my eyes as I shook my head. “Steve, I…I can’t, you know I can’t.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you say yes?” Steve leaned forward and just the look on his face made me want to climb onto the quinjet. “Please. He’s my best friend…I can’t, I hate seeing him like this. You’re the only one who made him better.”

I bowed my head and watched as my tears splashed against my leg. “Steve…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t do anything. I know he says he needs me but…you don’t understand, he doesn’t…it’s not like that anymore. Maybe…maybe I’ll come when he’s calmer, when he’s out of his episode. But not now, not when he’s so vulnerable. I can’t do that to him, I can’t.”

Steve sighed and nodded gravely as he stood up and set his mug into the sink. He turned to me and enveloped me into a strong hug, a hug I hadn’t realized I needed until I was in it. I took in a shaky breath as Steve squeezed my shoulders. “You’re the only one he’s ever truly loved,” he whispered and my chest cracked open as I held back the hard sobs. He stepped back and gave me a sad smile and I could see in his eyes that he was trying to understand. That walking away right now was the last thing he wanted to do. “Please…think about it. That’s all I ask.”

I nodded and watched as he turned his back and disappeared out the window, the distant purr of the quinjet was what I heard before I sagged against the kitchen counter and cried harder than I had over the past six months.

It had been two days since Steve had come to my apartment and our conversation was all I could think about. I tried to move on. I tried to shake off his words. But they were like a mantra in my head that never went away.

He needs you.

He’s my best friend, please.

You’re the only one he’s ever loved.

He needs you.

And the more his words repeated in my mind, the more my resolve began to crack until finally I found myself purchasing a plane ticket and arriving at New York.

I approached the facility late at night, the lights still blazed despite it being close to midnight. With a sigh and fear clenching my insides, I strode through the front door and walked up to the security desk. The security guard was flicking through the CCTVs with a bored expression when I approached him.

“Sorry miss, no visitors at this hour,” he drawled as he kept his gaze fixated on the computer screens.

“I’m…um, I’m here to see Captain Steve Rogers?”

“No visitors at this hour,” he repeated again, monotone. I sighed and gripped the counter to hide my frustration.

“I need to see Steve Rogers. It’s important.”

“No visitors at this–”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I muttered as I whipped out my cell phone. The guy didn’t even acknowledge me as I dialed Natasha’s number.

“Romanoff,” she replied in a brisk voice though I could hear the exhaustion that dripped behind the cold voice.

“Nat, it’s me.” I eyed the guard as he still dutifully ignored me. “I’m here, at the facility. Where are you?”

“What?” There was a sudden commotion through the speaker before her voice returned. “I’ll be there in a minute, don’t move.”

I ended the call and glared pointedly at the security guard who didn’t even move, his finger clicked on the mouse every interval of three. Some security I thought wryly to myself before I heard the elevator ping and out stepped Natasha. She looked exhausted, her hair was knotted and the bags beneath her eyes were a dark purple as she practically ran towards me.

“Hi,” I said once she stood in front of me. She nodded in greeting, her face grim.

“C’mon, he needs you,” she said in a stiff voice and I could tell she was barely holding it together. I followed her into the elevator and she pressed the button marked 35. Bucky’s floor.

“Nat,” I murmured in the quiet elevator. “How bad is he?” I knew Steve told me he was bad, but Steve had a tendency to overdramatize things especially when it came to Bucky. I wanted to make sure that what Steve told me was in fact, the truth.

“It’s good that you’re here,” she whispered. It’s all she said, but it was enough.

I nodded and swallowed thickly. “Are you monitoring him?”

“Full surveillance.” Natasha confirmed as the doors slid open and we stepped onto Bucky’s floor. “We have to.”

“Shut it off,” I whispered. Natasha was about to protest but I silenced her with a hard glare. “If I’m going to talk to him, it’s going to be just me and Bucky. He deserves his privacy. I’m not going in there until video and audio is cut off. I’m serious, Nat. I’m going to talk to Bucky as a friend, not as a psychiatrist. We don’t need to be monitored.”

Natasha nodded bleakly and squeezed my hand tightly. “Be careful,” she whispered before she disappeared down the hallway. I waited and calmed my churning stomach as I clasped and unclasped my hands in front of me. Two minutes later I got a text from Natasha.

Surveillance cut. Be safe, please.

I pocketed my phone and strode towards Bucky’s door. My hand hesitated in front of the keypad before I shook my head and steeled my nerves. I punched in the familiar code and the doors slid open.

Inside, everything was clean. The bed was made and everything was set within a specific place – nothing out of order. All of the picture frames were gone; the candles I had used to rid the metallic scent of blood were nowhere to be seen. The comforter was replaced with a dull gray quilt.

There was no color, no life.

Everything was too neat. There were no creases in the bed spread when I knew before he couldn’t have cared less how the blankets looked I was always the one who made the bed. The frames were gone but I saw the marks on the bureau from where the corners of the frames had hit too hard and chipped away at the stain. I could still smell a hint of the lavender candles I always used to light but it was overwhelmed with the scent of beech wood like he had done everything in his power to rid the lavender from the room. There were cobwebs laced in the corners of the room and when I looked down I saw cracks in the tile. I wondered how hard his fists had hit the floor to make those marks. The couches all had covers over them but as they fluttered in the air of the heating I could see the pockets of fabric missing from where he had ripped out chunks of the upholstery.

The entire room was set up to make it seem like he was fine when he was really anything but.

I turned my head and jolted when I saw Bucky staring at me. He stood in the doorframe of the bathroom seemingly frozen in place. His clothes were clean, his shirt pressed and his jeans free of grease stains. His hair fell loose around his face and his eyes were bright and wide.

“Why are you here?” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in weeks and I flinched at the sharp hostility in his tone. I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it. My sudden burst of confidence was dwindling fast and I tried vainly to grasp onto it. I turned my head away and swallowed thickly.

“Uh…I just, wanted to…I don’t know. Um, I just wanted to see how you were, I guess. But if you want me to go then I’ll, I’ll go–”

“Wait,” he broke me off as he leaned on the balls of his feet. “Sorry, um, you just…surprised me, I guess.”

I nodded slowly as I rocked back on my heels. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Bucky nodded again and gave me a soft shrug. There was a pregnant pause and I opened my mouth to make my escape but Bucky beat me to it. “Um, sit, please.” He mumbled, pointing to the armchair facing the window. I chewed on my bottom lip before I relented with a sigh and walked forward, clutching my bag to my chest. Bucky sat on the loveseat that was before the TV.

“So,” I broke the silence once I sat down, “how have you been?”

Bucky shrugged, still not huge on conversation. It reminded me when I first met him. He barely spoke a word to me. It was like he didn’t know me, all over again. “You look good,” he muttered, completely dodging my question. I sighed inwardly as I subconsciously touched my hair.

“Yeah, well, you know. I’m trying. All in a day’s work, right?” I attempted to joke but I knew it fell flat. He wrung his hands together, spreading them apart then clutching them back together.

“And how’s that going for you?” His voice was empty, as if he was steeling himself for an answer he didn’t want to hear.

It was my turn shrug. “I dunno, seemed to have fooled everyone.”

“Everyone?” He murmured and his eyes finally met mine. The icy chasms took my breath away even now.

“Yeah,” I breathed out. His face was expressionless as he looked away. “So…you seem to be doing good.” I nodded to the bed with a small smile on my face.

“Of course I am,” he bit out. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I winced, his words like a hot knife through his chest. Of course he was fine. He was the one who left me. Suddenly, everything Steve said flew out the window. Bucky never needed me. Just like he had said.

“Yeah,” I mouthed. “Right, of course.”

Bucky shook his head and I saw anger twist his features. “Why are you even here?” He stared at me, his eyes dead. My breath rattled in my chest as my mouth formed no words. After several heartbeats of silence Bucky shook his head and stood up, storming to the bathroom. The door rattled in the doorframe when he slammed it shut and I winced at the sudden sound.

“I don’t know,” I whispered into the silence. Hot tears formed in my eyes and I willed them to go away with a tight squeeze of my eyelids. I refused to cry again. I was done crying over Bucky Barnes. There was obviously no love lost with him, it was time for me to realize that. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry but I forced myself up with a staggered breath. With soft steps I pushed open the door and shut it quietly behind me. I looked up at the security camera that I knew was trained on Bucky’s door. Where I knew Nat and Steve were watching. I gave a small shake of my head, pressing my lips together as a fresh wave of tears flooded my eyes. My legs willed me towards the elevator and somehow my body followed.

It was almost mechanical, my actions, like the voice that spoke to me in the elevator. Once the doors closed I leaned against the cool walls hoping the cold will bring back some semblance of thought. I used the trip down to the ground floor as a way to gather myself. “Let him go, let him go,” I kept repeating to myself, like an endless mantra. I figured if I kept saying, eventually I’d believe it.

The ground floor was dead; the security guard had seemingly decided to leave the desk unattended. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I strode purposefully towards the revolving doors, repeating the three words in my head.

A sudden crash interrupted my train of thought as I nearly jumped ten feet in the air. I whipped around and saw the door that led to the set of the stairs plastered to the opposite wall, the hinges creaking slightly. Bucky emerged from the destroyed frame as he ran towards me, skidding to a stop before me. He was barely panting even though he had just launched a vibranium infused door into the next century.

“Don’t…don’t go,” he grated out, his voice so rough it sounded like sandpaper.

“What?” I managed to pull my gaze from the doorway to him. His eyes were slightly crazed, blown so wide I was worried they would pop out of his head.

“Don’t leave, please. Please…stay, stay.”

I gazed at him in shock, wondering if I was looking at the same guy as I slowly began to shake my head. “I, uh…I think I should go.”

“No,” he sprung forward when I took a step back and froze in place. “Please, please. Don’t leave me. Not yet, not now. Please.”

I kept shaking my head as my legs unfroze and took two more steps back as I began to turn away from him. “I can’t, I can’t,” I repeated. I willed my voice not to break as I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my own feet. Bucky was quiet as I nearly sprinted to the revolving doors, my heart cracking against my ribcage. I almost made it, my hand outstretched to the handle when he spoke.

“I didn’t mean it.” Four words, spoken so softly but they reverberated throughout the entire room. “I…I didn’t mean, what I said. I never meant it.”

I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him just yet. “Why did you say it? Why? Was it just to – to hurt me?”

“Yes.” I winced at the single word that cut through my heart. It was like the final nail in the coffin, the reminder that I didn’t matter.

“Right,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I have to go.”

“No, no wait,” Bucky began pleading behind me as I pushed the glass panel before me. The door began to turn and just as I was about to reach the exit, the door suddenly screeched to a halt and my face nearly went through the glass. I peeled my face off of the glass and whipped around to see Bucky’s metal arm holding the door back.

“Let me go,” I demanded as I slammed my shoulder against the glass. It didn’t even budge. “Goddammit Bucky, I am going to suffocate if you do not let me out.”

“I need you to listen to me.”

“By trapping me?” I nearly screeched. “God, what else do you want with me? Do you just want to hurt me some more, really destroy my self-esteem? Because honestly, I think you have done enough.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” his voice was fierce but I scoffed and nearly laughed in his face.

“How else could you possibly mean that, Bucky?” He bowed his head but didn’t say anything. He was dead quiet. I shook my head and slammed my hands against the glass. All it did was shudder. Tears pricked my eyes as my throat constricted. “Do you like seeing me like this? Is that what this is? Is this some sort of fucked up game for you?”

“What?” Bucky gasped. “God, no. It was never–”

“Then why?” I yelled, stepping three feet to the other glass panel that confined me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you know,” he whispered and I just gaped at me. A few moments passed as I waited for him to respond, to elaborate in some way. But he didn’t.

“Know what, Bucky? What are you talking about?”

“You just know,” he repeated, the plates in his arm rippled as he gripped the handle harder. “You…you look at me, and you know. You don’t have to ask, we don’t have to talk, I don’t have to say anything and you just know. One look at me and it’s like you just…get it and no one has ever done that before.”

I blinked at him before I raised my hands up in defense. “You know, this might just be me, but isn’t that what people want? Someone who knows the other one? I really thought that was something good in a relationship.”

“It is, it was one…it was good. But it – it terrified me. Nobody has known me like that in…decades. Steve used to, but even now he doesn’t. But you…you, who has no idea what I’ve gone through. You’ve never held a gun in your life, you just know. You understand me like no one ever has and it scares the shit out of me. Because I’m so used to saying the right thing, to acting a certain way to make sure I wasn’t noticed. But you just…God you just see right through me no matter how hard I try to keep you out.”

“So…you said all of those things…because I know you?” I stared at him in disbelief. It was ridiculous, even for Bucky. I found it so hard to believe him. Suspicion began to grow in my stomach as I narrowed my eyes at Bucky. It was then that I realized he hadn’t looked at me. Throughout his whole speech he couldn’t even look my way. “Bucky,” I prompted. “Look at me.” He ignored me and I nearly exploded. “Jesus, the least you could do is look at me. At least give me that.” Seconds ticked away before Bucky finally tore his gaze from the ground and met mine. His eyes burned with an emotion I couldn’t pinpoint, but it was something so strong it nearly knocked my breath away. “What aren’t you telling me?” I whispered. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Bucky shook his head as a small chuckle left his mouth. “This is what I mean,” he murmured, “you see right through me.”

“Then can you please explain what I’m seeing? Because it makes no sense right now.” Bucky seemed to shrink away at my voice. He carded his fingers through his hair while my gaze flickered over his body. He was wound so tight I worried he’d crumble right in front of me. “Please,” I whispered my voice softening as I took another step forward. “Tell me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t.”

“Why not? Bucky…why?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense,” he hissed. “It shouldn’t…it shouldn’t be like this.”

I stared at him in confusion, trying to piece together his vague words. “Okay, okay,” I spoke to mostly myself but I knew Bucky heard. “You don’t have to tell me, that’s okay. Just, uh, explain, yeah. Explain to me what’s going on.”

Bucky sighed and dropped his head to his chest as if he was suddenly exhausted. His broad chest expanded as he took in a deep breath and I tried not to speak. I swallowed thickly and took a step back, to give him space though really he had enough.

“I don’t know…I don’t know how.” He began and I held my breath, afraid if I breathed too loudly I’d scare him. “It’s like, everything was a blur. I was okay, I felt, I loved, I knew what happiness was, I knew guilt and sadness. But it’s like nothing ever stuck, I just kept cycling through these emotions. And I, I always thought that if I ever met the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I’d have to lay all of the cards on the table. I thought I’d have to have this great intervention with the drama and the fanfare and the tears and everything.

“But then…but then I met you. And I didn’t have to explain anything. You just looked at me and smiled. And the way you look at me, it’s like I’m all you see, y’know? And I’ve never…that’s never happened before. Even on my worst days, you never wavered. You just held me and let me be me. I never had to worry about being Bucky or James or…him. I was just who I wanted to be and you…you loved me all the same. And I saw it, how much you loved me.

“I’m not…I’m not a good person. I know I’m not, but you don’t. You refused to believe it no matter what people told you, no matter how right they were. It’s like you didn’t care and you should because I’m…I’ve done bad things. And it scares me, it scares me that you can love me so unconditionally and I can’t even give you a fraction of that because I’ve done so much, I’ve done such terrible things that loving you can hardly make up for anything. And I tried, I tried so hard to make things right with you. To try and be good for you. But you saw through that too, you saw through it all and God it scared me.

“And I knew the only way for you to see, to understand me, was for you to hate me. Only then would you let me go. And I didn’t want…I never wanted to hurt you. And I know I did, I know what I said hurt you in ways I never wanted to imagine. But you just…you saw too much. You saw too much and you knew too much and you loved so goddamn much and I can’t give you that. I can’t give you the love you deserve, I can never give you that. But you don’t…you didn’t get it. And I tried to make you see it but you…didn’t so I had…I had to make you see.”

His voice broke at the very end, a sob wrenching through his clenched teeth and my heart nearly broke in two. His breath was ragged, as if what he had just told me equaled climbing Mount Everest.

“So…” I finally spoke as my mind struggled to wrap around what he said. “You don’t love me? Is this…is this the point? I love you but you don’t love me.”

“No, God, no.” Bucky shook his head as he carded a hand roughly through his hair. “Don’t you see? I love you too much. I love you so goddamn much it hurts. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t…it’s just, it’s not right.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as I crossed my arms. “Do you see a judge anywhere? Are we in some sort of Congressional meeting I’m not aware of? Is there a jury sitting at the security desk right now?”

He furrowed his brows. “No.”

“Awesome. Then what the fuck are you trying to prove and who the fuck are you trying to prove it to?” I glared at him as I spoke. Bucky opened his mouth but I was too angry to stop. “You know what Bucky, you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Your past is fucked up. What happened to you is so beyond fucked up I can’t understand and I most definitely never will. But it’s exactly that. You’re past. You need to move on because I’m pretty sure everyone else has.”

“But–”

“Do not interrupt me.” I jammed a finger at him and he automatically shut his mouth. “You’re so goddamn immersed in your past you’re too blind to see what’s happening right in front of you. And you’re right. I did love you. I loved you so much that sometimes I don’t even think it’s real. Some nights I stay awake just to make a list of ways to prove to you how much I loved you without ever saying it.

“But fuck you. Fuck you for deciding who I love, or how I love, or when I love. Fuck you for not letting me prove it to you and not seeing it when I tried. Fuck you for never sticking around long enough and never showing that you cared. Fuck you for breaking my heart and leaving me to pick up the pieces afterwards. Fuck you for not staying.”

I was panting by the time I finished my rant. Everything in me buzzed as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. Bucky was silent as he stared at me, unmoving. I had never yelled like that before in my life and I was positive Bucky had never seen me like this.

“I’m–”

“Don’t,” I snarled. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” I shook my head and turned away from him, my stomach rolled and twisted uncomfortably. “God, I’m so mad at you. I’m so fucking mad.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

“Good,” I shot back. It was childish but I wasn’t about to let him get the last word. But as soon as I said it I felt a wave of exhaustion rush over me and my shoulders dropped in response. With a heavy sigh I rested my head against the cool glass in search of relief but found none. “What do you want from me Barnes?” I finally whispered.

“I want a second chance.”

I scoffed under my breath. “Second chance? I gave you too many chances. You had more than one opportunity to stay. You chose not to.”

“Fine,” Bucky acquiesced. “Give me one more chance.”

“Right,” I said bitterly. “What’s going to be so different about this one? You’re going to tell me you love me and then leave? Won’t that be the icing on the fucking cake?”

“Let me prove to you that I love you. This time, for real. No more running, no more games. I swear to you I’m gonna be there this time.”

I turned my head to the side and watched the moonlight dance on the steel beams of the door. “I don’t trust you,” I admitted honestly. I could feel the walls locking in around my chest, protecting me from whatever he said.

“I know,” he repeated. “Give me a chance to win that trust back.”

“That’s two chances, Bucky. You said one.”

“A chance to win your trust and another to prove that I love you, and that you love me too.” I turned to face him, about to give him a snarky remark but the moment I saw his face my voice died. He was open, raw, vulnerable. His eyes shimmered with unfallen tears and his gaze was so intense I felt as if I was drowning. “Please.” Just one word. But it was loaded with so much sincerity and desperation I couldn’t find it in me to say no.

“Okay,” I finally relented and his face utterly transformed. A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes and he immediately stood up straight. “This is not a yes,” I immediately snapped as I glared at him. “This is just an opportunity for redemption. But we go my pace. Whatever I say goes. You so much as cross a line I swear to–”

“I know.”

“And you’re not kissing me. Or touching me. Unless I say so. I’m serious Bucky, no funny–”

“I know.”

“This does not guarantee anything either. If I’m not happy or I don’t believe you then I have every right to–”

“I know.”

I scowled angrily at him as I placed my hands on my hips. “Do you know everything?”

“No.” He shook his head. “But I know you.” I forced the scowl to stay on my lips despite the smile that threatened to shine through.

“Right, of course you do,” I grumbled.

“So,” he smiled that million dollar smile that made me weak in the knees the very first time I saw it,

“Will you stay?”

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