jay kinda day today

The Press of Your Lips Against Mine (Everything Is Going To Be Just Fine) -> 1/6

JJ/Hotch; read it on ao3 here

The first time Hotch lets himself kiss JJ, they’re in a small hospital room while Emily is being operated on. They’re both in her room, a small thing with only enough room to fit a hospital bed and a couple of chairs, JJ pacing the floor and wringing her hands. She was distraught, didn’t want to show her worry in front of the rest of the team that was waiting in the family room. Hotch stood, caught JJ by the arm and pulled her into him, let his lips press insistently into hers, surprised when she melted into his touch.

hihihi, im back at it again w the fluff and kiss fics because I am SO SOFT FOR THIS SHIT. idk, hope u all like it!

tagging people I think may like this? idk? love u all!! @heat-waveee @whiskey-fluent @ssaemilyprentits @f-m27 @garcias-batcave @anepiphany @davidrossi-ismydad && whoever else my jotch peeps are, lmk and I’ll tag u xo

——————

It felt like they had been waiting for days, time stretching and lines blurring in the sterile, white hospital room. In all reality, Emily had only been in surgery for around an hour, but JJ couldn’t seem to quell her nerves.

She couldn’t get the image of Emily’s lifeless form out of her head — the way her head lolled to the side when the gurney jolted, doctors running down the hallway and pushing her away, off to surgery.

With a shaky exhale, JJ stood again, unable to handle sitting down any longer. She was full of nervous energy, palms sweaty and body shaking, face soaked with tears that just kept silently falling. She tried to offer Hotch a small smile, something of solidarity and bravery, but her watery smile broke, eyes knitting together as her face crumpled again.

Damn it, she didn’t want to cry anymore.

The room was barely big enough for her to move around in, barely enough space to turn circles and pace, just enough room for the missing bed and two small chairs. She sighed, scrubbing her hand over her face as she studied Hotch.

He was perched on the edge of the hard plastic chair, elbows resting on his knees with a broken expression on his face. She knew he was taking this just as hard as she was — both of them overcome with so much guilt and devastation at the prospect of losing Emily, of having let Doyle win one last time.

“Jayje…” Hotch cleared his throat, sitting up a little taller and letting his hand graze the side of JJ’s arm. “Do you need some air?”

“No!”

Her response came quick, voice firm yet shaky, loud and a bit of something she didn’t entirely recognize in herself. JJ didn’t want to see the rest of the team — didn’t know if she had the strength to handle their questions and worry. She could barely keep herself together and functional, let alone the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry.” She stopped in front of Hotch, shooting him a watery half smile, unsure of what to say or do. “I don’t think I can. Face them, I mean. Not yet.”

Hotch nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. He knew it wasn’t entirely that, it was that JJ didn’t want to miss the call from witsec — didn’t want to be left out of the loop. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t quite figure out the right words because truthfully, he didn’t know that everything would be okay.

He sat back in his chair, fingers tightly gripping his cell phone as they waited, JJ still pacing around the room and fiddling with her necklace. It was a locket, something small and silver and heart shaped that Hotch had recognized when she started playing with it, noticed the way it brought fresh waves of tears trickling down her face.

“This isn’t fair.” JJ’s voice was small, broken. There was a fear in her eyes and a shake in her voice, trying so desperately to stop crying, just for a minute.

Hotch shook his head, at a loss for words. It wasn’t fair that Doyle had done this, that Emily was fighting for her life on an operating table, that she was going to have to leave the only family she knew because of him, and the thought made his heart break and another wave of tears spring to his eyes.

“We’re going to have to tell the team.” His voice was solemn, face still as stoic as ever.

There was so much hanging in that statement, they both knew it. They were going to have to tell the team that Emily died, no matter the outcome, that Doyle had taken one of their own. They couldn’t celebrate if everything turned out okay — couldn’t rejoice and embrace and thank god that they had gotten to her on time.

“I don’t want to think about that.”

“I know.”

JJ continued to pace around the room, chewing absently on her fingernails. They were bitten down as far down into the nail bed as she could get, drawing blood with every nervous jerk of her hands. It was the only thing she could do to ground herself, to ease some of the nervous energy that the tiny, sterile hospital room seemed to only amplify with its crisp white walls and emptiness.

After what seemed like forever, there was a gentle knock on the door that echoed around the room, stopped JJ in her tracks and made Hotch sit up a little straighter in his seat. They stared at the doctor as he walked into the room, and JJ’s eyes immediately flickered down to the splatter of blood across the side of his scrubs.

“You’re here for Agent Prentiss?”

JJ found herself unable to move or think, eyes still laser focused on the splatter of blood and the gruff man’s voice. She was thankful when Hotch nodded, cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, eyes focused on the doctor with a small, polite half smile painted on his face.

“She’s stable, in recovery now. She lost a lot of blood and she’ll have a long road of physical therapy ahead of her… but she’s okay. We’ll bring her down here once she wakes up.”

Time felt like it was standing still, and JJ could barely recognize her own voice when she thanked the doctor. They were left in a tense, numb silence when the door clicked shut. The silence was truly deafening, JJ’s ears ringing as she felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over her.

She staggered to the window, small and metal lined and barely big enough to see outside, but enough to ground her. Her fingers wrapped around the ledge, fingers shining with streaks of blood, her face crumpling as she tried so hard to stay composed. The relief and fear and guilt was too much, and she struggled to take a shuddering breath in, knowing that the sobs would follow.

Hotch was behind her, strong hand on her bicep, a feeling of comfort and strength and understanding. He knew how hard this was going to be for them — how much they were going to have to go through, unable to tell anyone else.

He pulled on her arm gently, pulled her towards him and brushed his thumb over the tears that continued to slip down her face — they had both been crying on and off since they found Emily. She let out a choked, strangled sob, one so full of relief and happiness, feeling her body melt into his, her hands grasping at his arms in an attempt to hold onto something real, something tangible.

She didn’t care that her fingers were staining the crisp white linen of Hotch’s dress shirt, didn’t care that she was leaning into his touch in a way she would never let herself for fear of breaking professionality. This was different, and nothing would be the same between them — between them and the team, for that matter.

“Jen…” His voice was watery, laced with unshed tears. “We’re going to be okay. Em is okay.”

JJ let her cheek lean into his hand, her fingers digging into his arms through the material of his shirt. There was a vague red flag thrown up in the back of her mind, that she shouldn’t be leaning into his touch or looking at his lips like that, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Not now, not with everything going on.

There was a tense silence for a moment, only the sounds of faint beeping from other rooms and JJ’s ragged, tear filled breathing between them. It was too silent, the room felt too suffocating, but they knew the moment they stepped out of there — stepped out of Emily’s hospital room — they would be planning a funeral for a friend they never lost, and Emily would be dead to the world.

In a brief moment of courage, Hotch felt himself lean down, lips brushing across JJ’s forehead before his eyes caught her lips. His free hand came to the back of her head, resting atop the tangled hair he found there, and pulled her into him, his lips covering hers in a gentle kiss.

She tasted of tears and the metallic tang of blood, her lips peeling and chapped, their lips fitting perfectly against each other’s. Hotch was surprised to feel JJ kissing back, fingers grasping at his biceps tightly.

After what felt like forever, they finally pulled apart, blushing and smiling shyly at each other. Hotch let out a breathy laugh, hand coming up to smooth out his hair before brushing the rest of the tears off of JJ’s face. There was no sense of awkwardness between them, as Hotch grabbed his suit jacket off of the chair and put it back on, JJ gazing at him with a small smirk playing on her lips.

It was better than tears, he reasoned to himself.

“We should go tell them… tell the team. Send them home before she’s out of recovery.”

His voice was firm, authoritative in a way that JJ appreciated in that moment. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to pull out the worst of the knots before grabbing a paper towel and wiping at her face, grimacing at the scratchy material. They were both stalling and she knew it — stalling because the moment they walked out of that room, things would never be the same.

Emily Prentiss was dead.

JJ felt a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the room and down the hallway, felt the sting of fresh tears in her eyes as they rounded the corner into the family waiting area. The rest of the team was in a similar state of disarray — wringing their hands and pacing and crying — and JJ felt her stomach knot up in dread at the news they were about to deliver.

There was the gentle tickle of dancing fingers on the small of her back again, bringing a gentle smile to her lips. Hotch was there. He knew. They both knew. They were going to be okay — everything was going to be okay because they were okay, Emily was okay. The world was falling apart beneath them but there were few small points of solace she could find.

Emily Prentiss was dead to the world, but not to them.

i’ve learned to lose, you can’t afford to

Run to Paradise ‘verse

Summary: Tommy’s marrying Heather, and Lola refuses to go to the wedding. 

A/N: HEAVILY ANGSTY, WARNINGS FOR HEAVY DRUG USE (HEROIN INJECTION), AND THE MENTION OF TRACK MARKS AND BRUISES AND INJECTION SITES. IM FUCKING BIG SAD FAM. MADE MYSELF ACTUALLY CRY. HAVE AT. lola/nikki & past lola/tommy

Nikki can't remember how he got to the fancy mansion-looking place Tommy's hired out to marry Heather, but at least he made it. That's better than Lola.

"Get- Lo get up, it's- Lola, fuck," Nikki shoved at her, still in bed, earlier that morning, but Lola's barely coherent, strung out and basically catatonic. All she can do is groan, curling up on her side.

"Lo, Lola he'll want you there-"

"Nah," the word spills sticky and hazy, like honey from her lips, and she smiles like nothing bothers her but it’s involuntary, it’s the sweet relief of the morphine coursing through her veins rather than the topic at hand, “nah.” Her eyes flutter closed. Nikki gives her a harder shove, but she just goes with it, lets him shove her but doesn’t budge from the bed.

“He- Lola get out of fucking bed, there’s a car honking for us, we gotta go.” It’s the hardest he’s tried to convince her of something in a long while, and finally she rolls over onto her back.

“What’s happening today?” She asks lazily, and Nikki groans, and gives up trying to get her up, succumbing to his own sitting himself on the edge of the bed. It’s expected and automatic, the way Lola wraps herself around him, high and needy and warm and inviting and he’s fighting a losing battle. Tommy’s getting married in a few hours; he and Lola need to leave soon to get ready, but she’s pulling him back into bed, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

“Tommy‘d want us there, babe.”

“Where?” Lola asks, before laughing brighter than she had in a long while, sitting up, drawing her knees up to her chest. As the sound begins to die in her throat, her gaze goes glassy, expression falling as indecipherable thoughts play out in her mind, “nah,” she breathes, going limp and laying back on the bed.

She’s worse off than even Nikki, and he knows that she’d shot up just after waking up, usually she’d wait at least a little bit, but Nikki had heard the ragged way she’s drawn breath, the soft swears she’d whispered when she’d thought he was asleep, and the sniffles and the way she’d gone off at herself under her breath for ‘going soft’. The drugs had stopped her hands shaking, stopped the sniffling, but she’d mumbled something about taking more than usual but wouldn’t say why.

“Lo, I’m his best man, and you’re- you’re- what are you again?” 

“No,” Lola shook her head, pressing her forehead to Nikki’s shoulder, one arm wrapped around him, “Roxy’s gone- gone. She stabbed him with a pen- God, fuck, she stabbed him,” Lola’s grumbling grew quieter until it was under her breath, and Nikki can feel her hands trembling.

“Don’t you- not fuckin’ Roxy, to Heather.”

There’s a quiet moment, finally, and Lola’s hand balls up into a fist.

“Heather doesn’t like me.” She sounds so young, like she’s sixteen again and all Nikki can see is the way she looked at him, defiant and hopeful in clothes too big, too unfamiliar to her. Even then she’d had fight, but she sounds defeated now. “She shouldn’t, she’s very smart; she shouldn’t like me.” It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “You go.” She gives him a gentle shove, though he doesn’t move. She props herself up and reached past him to the bedside table, into the top drawer where she’d already stashed a bunch of heroin-filled syringes. There’s bruises and angry, red injection sites along her wrists and by her inner elbow, and Nikki knows he’s got the marks to match, but his heart hurts seeing it.

“We should- Tommy wants us there, dude,” Nikki groaned, pulling himself to a sitting position, feet coming to rest on the floor. Lola hummed, sitting herself against the headboard, one leg tucked beneath the other as she frowned at her track-marked thigh for a clear place to inject herself. 

“They want you there, come on, Lola.” 

He watches her inject herself, watches the way her head falls back as the drug courses through her system; she was already fucked up when the conversation had begun, in a few minutes she’d barely be coherent. She was in no state to go; Nikki himself was only marginally better. But he couldn’t understand why she was doing this, on today of all days.

“Get out of this fucking bed and come to Tommy’s wedding, damn it!” Nikki managed to get to his feet, scowling at an uncooperative Lola.

“No! Fuck you! No!” She spits back, sinking back down into the mattress, empty syringe loose in her grip. “He’s happy! He’s allowed to be happy! He doesn’t want me there-”

“He does!”

“No he fucking doesn’t! He won’t want me there; I make Heather unhappy and he loves her! They’re allowed to be happy, you asshole, and that’s easier if I’m not there!” She shouts, propping herself up on her elbows, and Nikki realises too late that she’s crying, angry tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to play pretend like I’m over it, like I’m giving my blessing by watching him marry the woman that made me fucking obsolete to him. He made his choice.” The anger dissolves and her whole expression crumbles, shattering in one heartbreaking moment, her lip trembles and she messily wipes the tears from her eyes, “He made his choice and I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but I can’t watch him marry her. I don’t want to make him upset, Nikki, he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves-” she cuts herself off with a sob, crying quiet and painful, curling up on her side away from him. Nikki is quiet, doesn’t know what to say, what to do, and so he leaves her like that, leaves to the car that’s been waiting outside and tells the driver that Lola won’t be coming. 

Nikki shoots up in the bathroom of the establishment before he gets changed into the suit provided for him. Joining the rest of the band, he sprawls out on one of the sofa as they wait for the ceremony to start.

“Hey, did you and Lols show up in separate cars, or, like, do you know where she is?” Tommy asks, beaming, looking so excited and bright in his white tuxedo. Nikki mumbles something, but his gut twists a little as a foggy memory of the morning’s encounter rose to the forefront of his mind. “She’s just cutting it a little close to get ready,” he frowns at the lone garment bag that was slung over the back of one of the other chairs scattered around. 

Mick is the one who speaks up, surprisingly.

“Drummer, if she’s not here now then she’s not coming.”

“No, Lola wouldn’t-” Tommy’s expression goes from confused to crestfallen as he looks to Nikki, “she’s on her way, dude, I asked you to make sure she was here.” Nikki’s eyes are closed, and he’s fighting to keep his expression neutral. 

“I tried,” he grumbled, but Tommy scowled.

“Well you should have tried fucking harder-”

“Drummer-” Mick tried, voice gentle, but Tommy threw a glare over his shoulder.

“Not now, dude;” and he turned back to Nikki, “she’s one of my best fucking friends, just like the rest of you, and you all turned up. Why couldn’t she come?”

Nikki’s strung out mind for once worked in conjunction with his mouth, and he stayed quiet, refusing to tell Tommy exactly why Lola had stayed home, though even through the fog that clouded his brain, he could feel his heart aching for both of them. 

“You’re both being really fucking selfish, you know that?” Tommy hisses, and Nikki sighs.

“She... she wants you to be happy, dude, that’s all she wants.”

“I’d be happier with her here!” 

Silence fills the room, and Mick clears his throat.

“If you can’t understand why Lola can’t be here,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head, “you’re dumber than a bag of hammers. I don’t know on who’s account she’s stayed back - maybe it is selfish - but she seems to understand the bigger picture of whatever this fuckin’ confusing dynamic is better than you.” He hums for a long moment as Tommy’s brow knits in confusion.

The kid doesn’t understand; Lola’s been in practically all the big moments of his life that have happened since he’d met her, been a constant in his life for years now. It’s not the same without her. It’s wrong. Maybe he’d taken for granted that she’d always be there, by his side, like she’d promised.

But that was back before Heather, before he’d fallen in love again, seriously this time. Not that what he’d had with Lola wasn’t serious, but he’d just assumed she’d still be there, like a... oh.

Guilt twists Tommy’s stomach as the realisation hits him, that he’d assumed that because he’d never stopped loving her, not really, that he could keep her like a backup. Taking for granted that she’d always be there if he needed her without considering how fucking much it must hurt her to hold the torch like he knows she would. 

“You know Heather doesn’t like her,” Mick cut through his thoughts with soft words, and Tommy shook his head for a moment, not disagreeing, but trying to clear his mind, “girlie just wants what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees gently, now feeling guilty for feeling guilty about hurting Lola, considering how the woman he was marrying in less than an hour felt about her, “she’s good like that,” Tommy swallows hard, forcing a smile, “selfless.”

Okay!!! Desperate for twinyards :D!!! Will Aaron ever found out that erin takes care of him when he is drunk? And will he find out that Aaron cares for him and will there ever be a point where the things he said when he is drunk would be said when be isnt? Gosh im such trash for your fem!andreil

I’m so sorry these asks keep taking so long! They take me thirty years to get to and then they turn out really bad. One day I’ll start creating quality content. Until then, have this. 

In honor of Spoopy Month, it’s Halloween themed!!!!! (I borrowed a big chunk of it from my canon compliant fic Love of my Life but I just really like that part of the story. Sorry :))

“I never thought Crowley and Aziraphale would ever return to Eden,” Ronnie said as the Monsters made their way to the bar. Ania smiled. Erin scowled. “Aw don’t scowl at me like that, Angel.” Ronnie barely dodged the heels Erin chucked at her. With a broad smile, Ronnie turned her attention to Aaron. “I’m sorely disappointed to see that you’re not the Archangel Micheal.” Aaron glared at her but his annoyance didn’t last. 

Aaron could never stay mad at Ronnie for long. For the longest time, Ronnie had been the only ray of sunshine in Aaron’s dreary life. The middle child and only daughter of a rich widower, Ronnie was free to do as she pleased while her father groomed her brothers to inherit his fortune. Having four brothers would be more than enough for most people but Ronnie hadn’t hesitated to adopt Aaron into her little band of miscreants. In the years before Erin’s arrival, it was Ronnie (and at times, her brothers) that had been looking out for Aaron. She was just as much his sister as Erin was. That was what made their relationship so hard for him to wrap his head around. He’d given up trying to make sense of how they could have gone behind his back like that long ago but on nights out at Eden’s he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. 

“Earth to Mikey,” Ronnie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Come on, we’re toasting you’re little cheerleader. To Katelyn,” Ronnie cried as she raised her own shot. “For breathing -or maybe blowing- some life into Aaron!” Aaron shrieked at the crude joke as his family laughed, downing their shots. Aaron’s brain short-circuited at the sight of Erin downing her shot to the toast. She just wants to drink, Aaron told himself as he regained control of his thoughts. Curling himself into his shoulders, he stood apart as Ronnie caught up with the others.

“Aaron,” Josten said as she nudged his foot with her boot. “Erin said to grab a table.” Aaron nodded and headed off to search for one. Despite the pounding music, he heard Josten following him. He risked a backward glance only to find her watching him. He growled but Josten’s face remained blank. She’s been spending too much time with Eri, he thought as he went back to shouldering his way through the crowd. Finally, he found a table in the back of the club with just enough chairs for them. Without hesitating, he sank into one only to find it covered in something sticky and white. 

“Oh Hell no,” he screamed as he leaped up. Josten peered over at his seat before doubling over in a fit of laughter. “Fuck off, Josten.” He snatched the paper towels she offered him out of her hands and did his best to clean himself off before kicking over the chair. 

“I see temper tantrums run in the family,” Josten remarked. Aaron looked over at her. She was staring out across the dancefloor, a soft smile on her face. Following her gaze, he spotted Erin flickering in and out of view from where she still stood at the bar. A pang shot through his chest. Ania looked at Erin the same way Erik looked at Nicky- the same way Katelyn looked at him. 

“Damn you, Josten,” he said, more to himself than her. 

“I’m already damned,” she replied anyway. “I’m damned to spend the rest of eternity in love with your sister but if that isn’t damnation at its best, I don’t know what is.”

The world tilted beneath Aaron’s feet. Love. Ania had said she loved his sister. His Erin. His Little Doe. Tears spilled from Aaron’s eyes. “If you hurt her…” he said, his voice breaking before trailing off entirely as he gulped for air. 

“She’ll kill me herself,” Ania answered easily. She reached a hand out and carefully wiped a tear from his face. “Don’t cry. Eri’ll skin me alive if you do.” 

“Does she even care?” he asked. Aaron tried to smile as he asked it but he knew it came out as more of a grimace than a smile. A wave of sadness crashed down over him at the sound of his own words. 

"Of course she cares, you cracked walnut," Josten snapped. As the strobing lights passed over her countenance Aaron could see the fury on her face. "I've only known her a year. You've known her for three? Four? How the hell can you not-" Josten stopped short. "It's because you're always drunk," she said quietly. 

"No. That's Kevin," Aaron said. 

"Whenever we're here. Whenever we go home, you're too drunk to remember." 

"Remember what?" 

Josten worried her lower lip, weighing her words "Don't drink tonight." She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could protest. "Trust me. You'll see."

"Trust a liar?" 

"I wouldn't lie about Erin." It sickened Aaron to know she was telling the truth. For the remainder of the night, to Kevin's delight, Aaron discreetly pawned his drinks off to him. Where Erin excelled at faking the drug-induced mania she’d lived with for the last two years, Aaron excelled at faking a drunken stupor. Or at least, he usually did. Keeping up the act was much harder than Aaron anticipated. He was far too preoccupied keeping an eye on his sister to fully concentrate. A few rounds in, he gave up watching her in favor of retreating to the dance floor. At least there, he wouldn’t be under her constant scrutiny. 

He was wrong. Each time the crowd parted enough for him to have a clear view of the ledge where he’d left them, he found Erin’s eyes trained on him. No matter where he went or what he did, she was watching him. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead. Had she seen through his ruse? Did she know he was faking? 

There was nothing Aaron could do now but pray. He passed the remainder of the night on the floor with Nicky. Around 11:50, Ronnie called out for the final round. Josten was by Aaron’s side in an instant. 

“Throw your legs onto Nicky’s lap in the car. And talk to Kevin about something- anything. Make him laugh.” Aaron broke his facade to shoot a confused look at her. “Just do it,” Josten pleaded. Aaron ground his teeth together as he considered his options. After a moment he gave her a sharp nod and made his way over to the counter with her to collect the final round. 

In the car ride home, Aaron did as he was told. He threw his legs over Nicky’s and leaned heavily against Kevin. Kevin wrapped an arm around Aaron, who tensed immediately. Kevin Day was not known for his compassion nor for his affection. Catching the warning look Josten shot him as she buckled her seatbelt, he forced himself to relax. For once in his life, Kevin wasn’t talking about Exy. Instead, he was giving a lecture on the unabridged history of the LGBT community. Aaron tentatively slid his own commentary into the lesson. To his relief, both Kevin and Nicky laughed. He choked on the soda he was drinking when he saw the upward curl of Erin’s lips in the dashboard mirror. 

Nicky got out of the car first as it rolled to a stop on the drive. He toppled face-first into the grass and laughter burst out of Aaron. He felt something pressing at his back and before he knew it, he toppled out of the car too.

“You drunk bastard,” Erin said. Aaron’s heart stopped as he rolled onto his back. Erin was standing over him, a brilliant grin plastered to her face. “That’s what you get for drinking so much” She bent down and scooped him up in an easy, obviously practiced, motion. Aaron was too shocked to say a word. 

 Aaron was suddenly thirteen again. He was sitting curled up on his mother’s bed with the handset pressed to his ear. A woman's voice drifted through it. She was talking about a girl named Erin. The woman was gushing about how happy she was to have found Erin’s birth mother, and her brother too. Brother, Aaron thought. He felt his heart racing in his ribcage. I’m- I’m a brother! A twin brother! Aaron had been over the moon at the very thought of meeting his sister. 

        The voice of his mother sent him crashing back down to earth. She hissed at the woman to keep her fat mouth shut. She didn't want to know anything about Erin. She wanted nothing to do with her and she certainly did not want Aaron seeing her again either. She slammed the phone down so hard that Aaron jerked the phone away from his face. Silently, returned the phone to its cradle and crawled back to his own room. Drawing his legs in, he tried to hold in his grief. Hot tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook. Anger coursed through his veins. Clenching his jaw, he unfurled himself and stalked into the kitchen. He grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen and ran out of the house. He raced down the block to the park. Seated at one of the picnic tables, his pen flew across the page. He wasn't quite sure what he'd written, only that he had to send it before his mother ever found out. He stopped by the fountain on his way out of the park. He would need money to send the letter. With a grimace, he peeled his shoes and socks off. Wading through the fountain, he collected every penny, nickel, and dime he could find. This isn't stealing, he told himself. They threw their money in here. Even if it is, it doesn't matter. This is for my sister. This is for Erin.

        Every day for the next two weeks, Aaron checked the mail in the hopes of finding a response to his own letter. When it came, Aaron nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He sat down on the steps in front of the house. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the letter. A brilliant smile plastered itself across his face when he saw the chicken scratch that filled the page. It looked just like his own handwriting. Unfortunately, his smile had been quick to fade. Erin had only written back to tell Aaron that she didn’t want him around. She was more than happy to remain with Cassidy and her new brother, Drake. Aaron grabbed desperately at his chest. It felt as though some hand had forced its way into his ribcage and ripped his heart out.  New brother, Drake. Tears fell onto the page. Ink ran, blurring the words into one another. Aaron ripped up the remnants of the letter up and hurled them in the bin. He collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Great, he thought. Fucking great. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I hope I never meet Erin or her new brother Drake.

But Aaron had. He had been sat down across from her in a juvenile detention facility, three feet away from her, separated by a four-inch pane of bulletproof glass. Looking at Erin was like looking through a funhouse mirror, it was him but something wasn’t quite right. Sure, Erin’s hair was longer than his, ending harshly at the edges of her jaw and she had a few more moles than he did but that wasn’t it. Maybe it was the seemingly permanent downwards tug of her lips. Maybe it was the bold set of her shoulders that exuded a confidence Aaron could only dream of.  

Maybe it was her eyes. They were the same brown as his but where his were full of pain and fear, hers were empty. Two empty pits stared back at him from across the table. The glass may have been designed to protect him from Erin’s fists but it did nothing to save him from her eyes. So empty. So soulless. Aaron had once heard that there had been a time when people had refused to take photos for fear that they stole the souls of the photographed. At the time, Aaron had scoffed at the people for being so stupid. Now, Aaron understood. Sitting before his sister, he feared that if he stared too long into her eyes, she might steal his to replace the one she lacked. They were so cold. So empty. So loveless. On the plane back from Cali, Aaron closed his eyes only to find his sister engraved on the back of his lids. 

Back in Columbia, Aaron stood before Nicky’s full-length mirror. He’d tugged a skull cap down over his head. His bangs poked out from beneath, matching Erin’s to a T. He blinked and it really was Erin staring back at him in the mirror. Reaching a hand out, he traced a finger down her cheek. Her cold eyes stared back at him and realized why he couldn’t look directly at them. They were their mother’s eyes. When Tilda Minyard wasn’t drunk or high, she was empty. 

There wasn’t very much Aaron knew about his father other than the fact that his mother had eloped with him once she’d learned of her pregnancy. Tilda was three and a half months pregnant when Micheal Minyard died in a car crash. Depression coaxed Tilda back into old habits that Micheal had helped her break. She began drinking and chain-smoking despite the twins she bore within her. Both twins were born with fetal alcohol syndrome, manifesting in their stunted growth, ADHD, and Aaron’s dyslexia. Erin had developed a nicotine addiction as well.  It wasn’t until after Aaron had found out about his twin that Tilda had told him this. 

“I didn’t even want you,” Tilda mused as she took another swig from her whiskey bottle. “I wanted Erin but your names sound so similar that the shitty ass nurse fucked up and gave me the wrong one. You never stood a chance with me,” she said. “I was never going to love you.” Tilda swung the bottle at the side of Aaron’s head. It connected with his skull and rattled his brain but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the words from it. 

Aaron pressed his forehead up to the mirror. Up to Erin’s forehead. 

“Do you know why Mom doesn’t love us?” he whispered. “It’s because no one loved her. No one but Dad but he’s long gone. It’s his fault, you know? Luther’s, I mean. Mom is the way she is because her own brother didn’t love her enough. He didn’t love her enough to let her stay once she got pregnant. He didn’t love her enough to help her take care of us. He didn’t love her enough to protect you.” Tears slid down Aaron’s face as his grip on the mirror’s frame tightened. “Luther might not have loved his sister, but I’ll love you til the day I die.” Looking in the mirror, Aaron saw himself again but it wasn’t the same Aaron he’d grown accustomed to seeing. This one had fire. This one had fight. This one would protect his sister, no matter the cost. This one was going to save his sister from devolving into the monster their mother had become. 

That Aaron failed. Erin was just as cold and empty as their mother had been. That Aaron failed. Erin was forced to face Drake all on her own. Every night, he lay awake wondering what horrors his sister faced behind the pristine white walls of Easthaven. No amount of kisses and cuddles from Katelyn were enough to bury the weight of Aaron’s broken promise. Guilt and regret intertwined, winding around Aaron and choking the life out of him. He broke down constantly, reduced to a sobbing mess by the weight of his woes. 

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. Erin was indifferent to him. Upon her return from Evermore, she hadn’t even spared him a passing glance. Instead, she’d fixated upon the child Josten had brought home. Aaron had never expected his sister to fawn over him. It wasn’t in her nature. Or so he had thought. It was because of this that Aaron couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that shot through him as he watched his sister’s shoulders soften when she held the baby. He could barely contain the scowl he felt tugging at his lips as Erin brushed her lips against the backs of Cleo’s hands.

  Cradling Cleo close he asked her, “What makes you so special? I know why Erin lets Ania have what she wants but what about you? You’re just a baby. I’m her brother. Am I not good enough for her?” Tears splashed down onto Cleo’s face and he hurried to wipe them off of her. As he did, he felt Cleo’s tiny hand wrap around his little finger. It was just barely big enough to encircle the single finger. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why.” He sat down on the couch and lay Cleo in his lap. She looked up at him curiously before her face split into a wide grin. “No wonder Mom wanted a daughter.” Cleo babbled at him and he chuckled softly. “You’re right. Maybe Luther was jealous too. I won’t be like him,” he swore again. “I’m not going to abandon Erin. Or you either.” 

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. If Josten made her happy, then so be it. If Cleo was the one she showered with love, then fine. But a small part of him wasn’t fine. Erin didn’t love him. His sister, his own flesh and blood, didn’t love him. It left a hole in his heart, one that even Katelyn couldn’t fill. Aaron hadn’t known what he’d have to give up to Katelyn but what he did was far worse than anything he could have imagined. There weren’t enough words in any language to express the anguish that washed over Aaron when Erin had picked Ania over him. He’d used Josten as bait for Erin to break her promise but a small part of him had wanted her to refuse. He’d wanted Erin to pick him over her. He’d wanted Erin to do the unthinkable and tell him that she loved him more than she wanted Ania. He’d wanted her to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. 

He wanted her to hold him the way she held him now as she carried him to the front door. Josten was already unlocking the door. She turned at the sound of Erin’s footsteps. A bright smile of her own burst out across her face. 

“Shut up, Ania,” Erin swore. 

“Haven’t said a thing,” Josten replied. She pushed open the door and let Erin pass. “Erin?” she asked as she followed them into the house. “Why do you only do these things when Aaron’s drunk?” To anyone else, it may have seemed like an innocent question. To Erin though? Getting anything from her was like pulling teeth. For half a second, Aaron didn’t expect her to answer. Then he remembered that it was Josten asking not him. A pang of bitterness pierced his heart as he felt his sister’s chest swell at the intake of a breath. 

“Because he’s nice to me,” she said. Aaron’s head jerked up but Erin wasn’t paying attention. She’d stopped walking. Her eyes were trained on a spot on the wall. “After I killed Tilda, he stopped talking to me entirely. Aaron loved Tilda, even if she didn’t deserve to be loved, and I took her away. I hate when you say you’re fine because that’s what I told myself whenever he ignored me. I told myself that I didn’t care. I did. Aaron’s favorite color is navy blue. Half of my closet is navy blue. Aaron’s favorite song is Young Blood. It’s on every one of my cassette tapes in the car. I hate cool ranch chips but I buy three bags every time I go to the store because Aaron loves them. Tilda didn’t deserve Aaron’s love but he loved her anyway. I don’t deserve Aaron’s love either. I-” A shaky breath rattled through Erin. “I just wanted him to love me too.” 

“I do,” Aaron blurted out. Erin snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice. 

“You’re not drunk,” she said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. Her eyes were dark and stony but this time Aaron didn’t look away. The longer he stared, the more apparent it was to him that they weren’t empty. Staring into them, he saw something flickering deep down inside.  

The truth about cameras is that they don’t steal your soul. They show you yours. No matter how perfect a picture may seem to others when a person looked too hard at their own, they saw what lurked beneath. It wasn’t that Erin had their mother’s eyes. It was that she had his. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he saw too much of himself. He saw the sad, empty creature he’d become. He saw the defeated, lonely creature he still was. Most people hailed Aaron as ‘the normal twin’, the Dr. Jekyll to her Mr. Hyde. No one realized how wrong they were. 

Erin was a fatalist at heart. To her, everything, every single thing, was predetermined. If the world believed her to be a monster, then that was what she’d be. She played her part and lived exactly the way people thought she would. It was all an act though. Behind every one of Erin’s monstrous acts, was a lonely little girl trying her hardest not to get left behind again. 

Unlike his sister, Aaron didn’t believe in fate. Every man made his own way in life, no matter the circumstances he faced to make it there. If that was true, then didn’t that make Aaron responsible for all the things that he’d done? Growing up, Aaron had done many things he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t matter who suffered so long as it wasn’t Aaron. If there was no fate, then wasn’t Aaron responsible for all the people he’d hurt? It wasn’t Erin who was a monster. It was him. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he was forced to face the monster he had become and it scared him. 

Aaron felt the support go out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. Erin spun on her heel and shoved past Josten. Neither of them moved until they heard the door to her bedroom slam shut. 

���I told you so,” Josten whispered. There were tears shining in her eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked herself. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked. 

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about this and now… she’ll never trust me again.” Her voice broke. 

“Ania-”

“Don’t, Aaron.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the house, nearly knocking over Kevin who was dragging Nicky in. 

“What the hell have you done to her?” Kevin snarled. Just the sight of a teary-eyed Josten was enough to sober him up. He abandoned Nicky and closed the space between himself and Aaron in the blink of an eye. Balling his fist in Aaron’s shirt, he shoved him against the wall. “I’m not asking again, Aaron.” This is what a brother should be, Aaron thought.

When Ania first arrived at Palmetto a year ago, she and Kevin were always at odds. No matter what she did, it was never enough for him. But that was because he knew she could be better. Nicky had made the mistake of mocking her once and Kevin and slammed him against the wall just as he held Aaron now. Erin intervened quickly, breaking them apart with a poisonous smile and a flash of steel but one thing remained:  Kevin Day, a man afraid of his own shadow, hadn’t hesitated to square up the second someone dissed Ania. And that was before he’d found out who she really was.

Kevin and Ania weren’t bound by blood the way the twins were. They’d chosen each other. Ania had chosen to follow Kevin out to Palmetto and Kevin had chosen to have her back. But hadn’t the twins done the same thing? Erin chose to move to Columbia and Aaron had chosen to protect her. Why had they failed where Kevin and Ania had succeeded? The two of them were just as broken as the twins. In fact, they were worse. Ania had lived her life in the shadows, jumping ship the second anyone started to get too close. Kevin had lived his life in the limelight, denied anything even resembling a friend. 

Even without knowing her, Kevin had looked upon the wretched creature that had been Ania Josten and wanted to offer her a future. He had wanted to offer her something to live for. Kevin would never be able to love Ania the way she needed to be but he wanted to give her the chance at a life where she could find someone who could. 

And he did. Kevin brought Ania to Palmetto and gave her a reason to keep going. He brought her to Erin, someone who could care for her the way she needed to be cared for. But what had Aaron done for his sister? He’d pushed her away the second things got hard. He’d denied her of the love he’d promised himself he’d give. He’d made her lonely. 

“How?” he croaked. “How do you do it?” Kevin frowned and his grip loosened.

“How what?” he asked.

“How do you always know what Ania needs?” Aaron had seen the way Ania ran to Kevin the second things fell apart. Too many times, he’d come back to the dorms to find her breaking down in Kevin’s arms. Each time he’d watched Kevin swaddle her shaking form in blankets and offer her things: a cassette player with only one tape, a bowl of vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate syrup, his laptop with an exy game already loaded. 

During Erin’s time at Easthaven, Aaron had found himself craving the smell of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t a smoker but the smell reminded him of Erin. One night, he finally caved and dragged himself to the corner store. He returned with a pack of cigarettes and another pint of strawberry ice cream. Every time Aaron passed by the corner store, he picked one up. He never ate a single one, though. Opening the fridge door, he realized there wasn’t any space left. Every inch of his fridge was filled with pints of strawberry ice cream. 

It should be empty. The fridge should be empty. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Aaron didn’t know when the tears started or how long he’d stayed knelt in front of the open fridge, only that Ania kicked it closed before sitting down on top of it. 

“There isn’t enough strawberry ice cream in the world to fix her,” she said. She handed him a tissue box and waited for him to blow his nose.

“Then what will?’ he asked. 

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ania said before unplugging the fridge. That was what Kevin said before he let go of Aaron entirely. With that, he left Aaron alone in the kitchen so he could lug Nicky up to his own room. 

Aaron sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs, picking at the table mats. It was early the next morning when he finally decided what to do. Actually, he didn’t decide. He just kind of stood up and started for the stairs. He didn’t even remember taking a single step. One moment he was at the kitchen table, the next he was standing in front of Erin’s door. He reached a hand out, tracing the letters on the door. The memory hit Aaron like a train. 

It had been a week after Erin had arrived in Columbia. Aaron’s name was already on the door and he had wanted to add hers to it too. Ever since he’d been old enough, Aaron had been working part-time just to keep himself and Tilda fed. In the months before Erin was set to come home, he’d picked up extra shifts to scrounge up the money he needed. With it, it went to the crafts store in the rich part of town. He picked out the four letters he needed and bought the highest quality paints he could find. On Friday, after practice, he’d broken into their mother’s liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing a swig, he found the courage to present his haul to Erin. It took some coaxing but he managed to convince her to sit on the floor with him on a pile of newspapers. Together the two of them painted the wooden letters black. Once they were dry, Aaron watched as his sister painted constellations onto them. 

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“Gemini,” she replied. 

“Astrology,” Aaron said as he crinkled his nose in disgust. Erin glanced at him, her lips just barely curling up. 

“Have you ever heard the story of Pollux and Castor?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“They were two brothers, twins, from Greek Mythology. They did everything together,” Erin said softly. “The two of them couldn’t live without each other. So, when Castor lay dying, Pollux called out to his father for help. Zeus saw his son’s pain and offered him a way to save his brother. Zeus offered Pollux the ability to share his immortality with his brother. Doing so would mean that neither of them could live normal lives again. They would no longer live here on Earth and they’d only have each other as company. Pollux agreed immediately. To him, his brother was more important than anything else in the world. So, Zeus turned the brothers into stars. Together, the two of them live side by side in the sky.”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely if you had only one person to talk to?” Aaron asked. 

“Not if it was you,” Erin replied. With that, she picked up the letters and moved them to the desk beneath the window. The two of them climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep. 

Aaron took a deep breath and knocked softly at his sister’s door. He stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. What if she didn’t answer? Aaron took a deep breath. He’d just try again later. Ania was right. What they’d done tonight had betrayed a great deal of Erin’s trust in them. If she didn’t answer, it was because he’d hurt her, just like he always did when he was sober. Aaron leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Eri,” he whispered. Just then the door opened and Aaron toppled forward again. Erin neatly sidestepped his falling form but caught him with an outstretched arm. “Eri-” he began. He stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Erin gave up waiting for him. She righted him and stepped back. Aaron took it as an invitation and entered her room. Aaron had never been inside his sister’s room. In the pale glow of the first rays of sunlight, he saw the dead roses suspended from her ceiling. A thousand photos covered the surface of the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were pictures of the Monsters. There was one of Nicky smiling brighter than the sun as Erik pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was one of Aaron shoving Matt, the two of them smiling. There was one of Wymack with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. There was one of Bee dressed up as a bumblebee. There were a lot of photos of Ania. One of them had been kissed with black lipstick. Erin was the only Fox that owned black lipstick. As Aaron inspected them he was aware of Erin at his back. 

“There aren’t any with us in it,” he said as he dragged his fingers over them.

“Yes, there is.” Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist and guided it to one all the way in the bottom corner. Its sides were crinkled from being taken out and replaced too many times. There was a fold down the center from when it was been folded in half, probably placed between the folds of a book. 

It was a photo featuring a pair of babies. Both of them had wispy blonde hair, most of which had been tucked beneath a little beanie. They were dressed in matching white onesies patterned with little sharks. They were two perfect, identical little babies. Erin laced her fingers through Aaron’s and he suddenly saw it. The two babies were holding hands too. Eyes closed, unable to even see one another, they had taken hold of each other’s hands. Babies didn’t have much strength, but the two of them were clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.  

 “Eri-” he croaked. 

“Yes or no?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he said. Erin turned him to face her. She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. Tentatively, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Erin?” he asked softly. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“You were the best,” she said. “You still are.” For once, Erin’s eyes weren’t empty or angry. Instead, they were hard. Resolute. If anyone else had said it, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. Erin wasn’t a liar. Every word she said, she meant. 

“I can be better,” he offered. He watched as she worked her jaw, searching for what to say. 

“I think I can be, too,” she said. Time seemed to stop. Aaron watched as the smallest of smiles tinged his sister’s lips. The rays of the rising sun filtered through Erin’s thick curtains, illuminating the fading freckles that danced across her face, forming constellations of their own. It turned her pale hair, bound in a messy bun atop her head, into a halo of pure gold. Erin might have been dressed as an angel last night, but she looked more like one now than she had then.

“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.” and/or “Does it ever get lonely?” for Shionne ^^

Shion x Jeanne“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.”“Does it ever get lonely?”

UMM I SUFFERED.

@druidickats

The room was entirely trashed: desk broken in half, chairs laying in pieces, and the bed slumped to one side. Covers had been shredded, and curtains had been torn down from their rack.

Jeanne stood in the doorway, stunned - and a yelp escaped her when she heard the mirror in the bathroom shatter, followed by an animalistic snarl.

A vase that had been in the bathroom came flying out next, where it broke against the wall. The pieces tinkled down to the floor, and the noble thought that perhaps it would be in her best interest to leave Shion be.

After all, he stalked out of the bathroom, eyes red with rage, mouth twisted in a snarl. He wore his dark armor, accented by bright blues, and his hands shook with undiluted anger.

But something kept Jeanne tethered there, at the door, and when Shion noticed that someone was there and snapped his furious gaze to her, she wondered if it wasn’t perhaps because of the tears streaming down his face.

It had been a long while since Jeanne had seen Shion snap like this, ever since the war of the thorns occurred. He’d fallen off, and though she’d done what she could to track him, even enlisting her brother’s help, Shion had proven to be a difficult person to pin down.

Until Ammon had narrowed down his location to this run down, clearly abandoned inn, right in the heart of Drustvar.

“What do you want,” Shion snapped, tone flat despite his choice of language.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she replied, digging her fingers into the doorframe, “what happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he spat, stalking over to the bed, “leave.”

“After I just found you again? I don’t think so,” Jeanne hissed, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind her. Ammon had insisted he stay downstairs, just in case. He had first hand experience with how dangerous Shion could be, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his sister.

A pillow smacked against the wall next to her head. She froze.

Sure, pillows were soft, and mostly harmless, but Shion had thrown it with enough force that if he had intended to hit her with it, it surely would have made her lose her balance.

“Leave, Jeanne.”

“Make me, Shion.”

Some taunts were truly meant to be reserved for other situations. Shion’s foot slammed against the door, splintering the wood, and his hand wrapped around Jeanne’s throat. His eyes were wide, and feral, and reminded her too much of a worgen gone utterly mad.

“How does your brother like spiders?”

Jeanne shook, wrapping both hands around Shion’s wrist.

“How ‘bout ones that are on fire?”

“Shion,” she managed, fighting tooth and nail against shifting into a worgen, because that would get her nowhere, “please. This isn’t you.”

“This is me,” he snarled, and his grip around her neck fluctuated between being tight and loose.

“Berserking like this isn’t healthy for you, and you know it,” Jeanne countered. She moved her hands from his wrist to cup  his face, and apparently, his tears weren’t stopping either, “you’re going to get sick.”

Shion’s expression was twisted between rage and despair. Jeanne wished she’d known what had caused this shift in him. She wished there was something she could have done to stop whatever had happened.

She didn’t like seeing him like this.

Jeanne’s sensitive ears picked up on a racket downstairs, and Shion’s eyes only shimmered more brightly with that sick red. The despair in his expression was entirely quashed by the rage.

He shifted his hand from her neck to her collar, and threw her roughly away from the door.

Shion proceeded to draw his leg back and kick it open, and Erasmus came charging through along the ceiling, hissing and spitting. The massive lava spider dragged someone along with him.

“Ammon!” Jeanne cried, and Shion snapped various commands so rapidly in Zandali that she didn’t catch what he was saying.

Erasmas, however, deposited Ammon on the bed. He ‘oomphed’, and promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ammon,” Jeanne hurried over to the bed while Erasmus scurried over to Shion. He climbed up onto Shion’s back, where he perched on the hunter’s shoulder.

Jeanne helped Ammon to his feet, “I’m ‘aight! Didn’ bite me or nothin’, jus’ didn’t seem ta like me tryna’ get away from ‘im.”

“This is why I told you, you shouldn’t stay,” Jeanne hissed. Ammon raised a brow at her, obviously confused that she was speaking in Darnassian. Shion was muttering under his breath, and when Jeanne looked back at him, he had his hand up to Erasmus’ mouth. The spider was gnawing on said hand.

“Shion– hey!”

The hunter had turned on his heel and started down the stairs, muttering furiously in demonic now. Ammon grabbed Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Jeanne, maybe you should–”

“NO!” she cut him off, and stormed in the direction Shion had gone, “after how long it took us ta find ‘im? No. No, I’m not leaving him, no’ again.”

Ammon frowned, but he followed her - and then both moved more quickly when the sounds of scuffling reached their ears. Erasmus was skittering about on the ceiling while Shion was grappling with a forsaken assassin.

Jeanne would have gone to help, but Ammon pulled her back. Frustrated, she yelled, “what do you think you’re for, Shion!?”

“I know exactly what I’m for!” he snarled. He pulled out his gun while the assassin struggled to get out of his grip.

“To hurt, and destroy, and nothing, MORE!”

He shoved his gun down the Forsaken’s throat and - to Jeanne’s horror - pulled the trigger. He threw both gun and body away from himself, and the assassin hit the wall with a sickening thud before dropping to the floor, lifeless.

Shion turned his attention to the twins next, and Ammon clutched Jeanne to his person as the troll stalked over–

And shoved both of them to the side roughly, before another assassin charged into them. Jeanne couldn’t stop the cry of fear that escaped her when she saw the woman’s blade go right through Shion.

In turn, Shion grabbed the woman’s face - he’d kept his stance firmly, and hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stopped after shoving the twins to the side - and dug his fingers into her eyes, and mouth.

Jeanne could only watch, mortified, as Shion tore the assassin’s jaw clean off. It dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter, and Shion slammed what remained of her face against the nearest table.

Again, and again, and again, until Jeanne’s shift into a worgen allowed her to tear free of her brother’s grip.

She grabbed Shion’s wrist tightly, and the bicep of his other arm.

“BY THE LIGHT SHION STOP!” she howled in his face. He didn’t falter. The only thing between them for a moment was ragged breathing, and still, that sickening red hue in his eyes refused to go away.

“Shion please,” Jeanne begged, unintentionally shifting back to her human form, “please, you aren’t meant for causing pain a-and hurt ‘n’ destruction, this isn’t you.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, and Erasmus reared up threateningly. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and Jeanne could only assume that the spider had been dealing with some forsaken outside the building.

‘Did they follow us? Did we lead them to Shion? Oh gods,’ Jeanne wiped shakily at her eyes. She had started crying, ‘oh gods, oh gods.’

Shion merely stormed out of the building, and half-way past the threshold of the building he deposited the assassin’s dagger on the ground. Ammon was by the weapon in an instant, and Jeanne collected herself as best she could. She hurried after Shion, and her heart sunk when she saw Erasmus nowhere to be seen.

“Jeanne.”

She stopped mid-stride at her brother’s voice, watching as Shion rapidly disappeared into the dense thicket of Drustvar.

“Yes?” she asked shakily.

“Just wait a minute.”

“Ammon, we can’t–”

“I need ya ta wait,” he interrupted, face red with frustration. He held the dagger out for her to see, and between smears of Shion’s blood, she saw the swirling poison that made the red bubble and rot, “so tha’ I c’n make an antidote for this, real quick. With your help. He’s poisoned.”

Jeanne sunk to her knees, face pale - but with her expertise, and her brother’s infinite knowledge of rogue poisons, they formed an antidote within minutes. Jeanne was grateful for all that she had spent so much time under the tutelage of Boralus’ most talented potion master.

Following Shion’s trail was easier than it should have been. His blood made a bright red trail against the dreary background of Drustvar’s forest floor.

They found him lying on his back a good distance away from the inn.

“Shion!” Jeanne sprinted toward him; Ammon sighed, but he followed faithfully after his sister.

The troll didn’t make a sound when Jeanne dropped down next to him. She immediately pulled down the collar of cloth on his armor and pressed her fingers to his pulse, ‘please, oh gods, please–’

A shaky breath of relief left her. His heart was still beating, and with that worry out of the way, Jeanne watched his chest intently. It rose and fell with a shallow breath.

She brushed her fingers along Shion’s cheek; his eyes flicked to her. Jeanne gave him the best smile she could manage, and he closed his eyes tightly before looking away.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked, wiping away a spec of blood from the corner of Shion’s mouth. She didn’t know if she should be happy, or sad, that her question made his lips quirk up at one side.

“Yeah.”

“Come back t’ Gilneas with me,” Jeanne said; she didn’t miss how Ammon’s brow furrowed at this, “I c’n hide ya in th’ old mansion.”

Shion inhaled raggedly, and Ammon reached into his pouch for the antidote.

“Jus’ drop a fuckin’ rock on my head and let it be done,” Shion sputtered. The red had finally faded from his kind brown eyes, “‘m tired.”

Jeanne accepted the vial when Ammon handed it to her, and she attempted to bring the object to Shion’s lips, “here.”

He turned his head away, and she supposed she should have expected that. Her hand shook.

“Shion, please,” she begged softly, tears gathering in her eyes. She fumbled for the words to say, while her brother clenched both hands into fists.

Before Jeanne could try once more to put the antidote to Shion’s lips, he wrapped his large hand around hers entirely.

And, to her comfort, Shion pulled her hand and the vial to his lips. He downed the whole thing, and sat up, coughing. She realized that some of her tears had dripped onto his face, ‘I wonder if that’s what spurred him.’

“I feel like I’mma cough up half m’ lung,” Shion wheezed. Ammon snorted out a chuckle, and Jeanne couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips.

The brief happiness was short lived.

As Ammon helped Shion to his feet, the hunter fixed his eyes on Jeanne. For whatever reason, he chose to speak Darnassian again, “I can’t come with you.”

Jeanne frowned, “why not?”

“Because this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about keeping everyone I care about safe. I’m not safe. Sylvanas’ assassins follow me everywhere, and the S1:7 agents are no better,” he shook his head when Jeanne made to argue, “don’t argue with me, Jeanne. Being around me puts a target on your back too. I already had to have this conversation with someone else.”

“Shion, just let your friends help you!” she snapped, “because we care about your safety too!”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to fight Nathanos when he finds me again? You’re going to fight Shaw?”

That made Jeanne falter, and Shion continued, “because Shaw is after my head too. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m safest in Anyport. I’m out here because there were too many assassins lurking around there for me to be comfortable.”

“But the guards–”

“Yeah, sure, woulda’ helped, but it’s my problem. I care ‘bout the people in Anyport. I don’t want them to suffer because of my presence.”

Jeanne was determined, “can we compromise? There’s a place where I can take you, they don’t mind who’s there,” she held up her hand when Ammon made to protest, “and they’re not weak people either. They can handle themselves. Stay with me for two weeks, until you’re well, and then you can leave.”

Shion sighed, and Jeanne continued, “you’re in no position to continue, Shion. And your fatigue is going to catch up with you eventually. You can’t berserk that long and face no backlash. You of all people should know that.”

He sighed again, but thankfully, stopped trying to argue with her.

Happy OQ Valentine’s Day!

So, this may be a complete wreck but I’d like to draw your attention to a few things before you read you’re present ;) 1. Im pretty sure I gave away my identity already because... 2. I’m working off my iPhone (it’s sad but it’s true lol) and... 3. Mobile Tumblr just refusesss to make things easy on me. 4. And also, I waited to write this last minute like most other things in my life. But aside from all that, I do hope you find even a tiny bit of enjoyment in this. Our beautiful sunken ship deserves a bit of light today ❤️ P.s. I’d love to write for you again in the future if you’re ever interested. HOPIN’ AND WISHIN’ AND PRAYIN’ (An Outlaw Queen fic) The shadows blanket the road this far out. They stretch from the tops of the evergreen trees and cast most of the road in darkness. Except for tonight, there are a few bright beams filtering down from the full moon in the sky. The only sounds come from the crickets and wildlife beyond the pines and it’s a solitary, lonely kind of peaceful. She’s made a habit out of coming here; slipping out just after Henry’s gone to sleep and spending a precious few hours hoping. Hoping for what, she isn’t quite sure. Maybe for the resolute acceptance of how things have turned out. For her heart to stop aching and move on already. Sometimes even, she’s loathe to admit, she wishes for a freak accident that would take Marian away and right the universe again. But mostly, she hopes he’ll appear out of thin air, grinning how he does, as he steps back into Storybrooke and into her life. She knows it won’t happen, that he might as well be in another realm altogether. She understands why he’s gone, respects it even, but it doesn’t keep her from peering out down the road and wondering where on the other side he could be tonight. The pavement is cool beneath her thin slacks but she likes sitting at the very edge where she can pretend the red line in front of her crossed legs is the only barrier keeping them apart. As if the two of them sit apart, the protection spell a curtain that only need be pulled back and they’d be face to face. She lifts the flask next to her and the moon beams off its shiny surface as she indulges in another sip. She’s not drunk, but the alcohol numbs things just enough, blurs the edges so she doesn’t actually cry. And it would be all to easy to let herself embrace her emotions and sob in self pity. He was supposed to be her second chance; her redemption for the awful woman she’d been—and he was, for however brief a time. His integrity made her better. His morals brought her back to that seventeen year old girl she once was. Just “Regina”, not “Her Majesty” or “The Evil Queen”. He saw the real Regina under all those layers of guilt and anger and regret. And perhaps what makes her feel more despondent than anything is that she’ll never get a third chance. She got so unexpectedly lucky with Robin. She didn’t deserve him to begin with, but only he could have been her soulmate. Only he could understand every sordid detail of her past and still have the audacity to not only love her, but choose her. Regina runs a hand through the front of her dark hair as she sighs. She misses him. She misses having another person unconditionally in her corner, misses not always feeling like the third wheel, misses the smell of damp earth and aged redwood. She wants to scream to the heavens, or this “author”, or whatever higher power there might be that it’s so unfair! Only she knows damn well how fair her pain is; how cosmic and condemned her story has read. It’s her punishment for choosing revenge when she could have chosen forgiveness. Daniel’s death was the great catalyst of her life. And while she knows there are many who let their grief morph into hatred, there had been another way. It would have been harder, maybe taken longer, but she might have come out the other side a better person; a hero. She won’t make that mistake again. While it feels just as bad as it had years ago, even worse actually; she cannot tarnish what Robin stood for, just to try to ease the ache. If anyone was undeserving, it was that man. He had made mistakes the same as any of them, sure, but he worked for his redemption. Robin had found a way to do what she never could. He turned his pain into purpose. A purpose full of love and selflessness and renewal. And now he’s been hurt once more, entangled in the web of her retribution; collateral damage for the penance she was paying. He had not known just what loving the Evil Queen would cost him, even if she had truly made a change. Yet, he had opted to accept the shit hand he was dealt and if only it weren’t for her he wouldn’t be hurting because of it. He might even be overjoyed to have his late wife back; his family reunited. She prays for that as she slowly pushes herself to her feet now. She decides it’s the only thing she can do to wish him well, Marian too. If only she could have granted him a memory spell before he’d gone so he could forget about the wreckage she’d brought into his heart. Of course, her thief would never have taken the easy way out. And Regina can’t help but to hold on to the thought of him remembering her, remembering the true, sacred, magical connection they shared. She suddenly has to lift her fingers to her face to brush away an errant tear. She will not feel sorry for herself, at least not anymore tonight. Staring out down the still, vacant road out of Storybrooke, she sniffles and squares her shoulders to reign in her emotions and she hopes above all else that Robin finds the kind of happiness she knows he deserves. This chapter of her story is closing, and she needs to let the dust settle on the pages and find a way to move on. If her heart is going to take it’s time mending, then she must stop her late night visits. She has a son at home and new, delicate friendships, and a town that seems forever under threat, and a population of people who she owes debts so great she may never repay them. But she must try. She turns on her heel and heads back to her silver benz parked just off the shoulder, opens the door and gives one last, longing gaze down the vacant road. In her mind, the protected barrier shimmers and parts and her handsome thief appears, Roland at his side, tiny hand clutched in his. Regina abandons the door, unconsciously letting her feet carry her forward a few paces. She let’s her eyes slip closed and smiles wide with the image of them behind her lids. “Regina”, he says. And it’s not until she reopens her eyes that it occurs to her the tone of his voice had not been quite right. “Regina!” As if awaking from a dream, her focus snaps back to reality and he’s still in front of her, rushing towards her more accurately, his arms outstretched. The the next moment she can feel him against her chest, can smell his woodsy scent right under her nose. “Oh thank God, Regina!”, he nearly cries in relief and it’s all she can do to catch her brain up to what’s happening. Maybe she’d had more to drink than she thought? He pulls out of the embrace, but doesn’t completely withdraw his touch. He must have sensed her shock, perhaps too overwhelmed to see her to notice she didn’t hug back. “Regina?” Her eyes scan over his body, willing herself to believe it’s really him, but they land instead on the dimple faced child grinning up at her. “Gina! We come to visit you!”, his little voice hits her ears and she raises her eyes back to Robin’s anxious gaze. The acceptance breaks around her and she throws her arms around his neck, afraid he might disappear. “Robin!” It’s the only thing she manages to say while she’s this overcome with emotions. He holds her back, just as tight and whispers her name quietly against her head and she finally finds her voice. “Wha—why—what are you doing here?”, she breathes in disbelief. Her hand falls to Roland’s head below and caresses his locks to finally acknowledge him, but she needs to grasp her current reality before she makes a fool of herself. “It’s Zelena”, he tells her with a bit of disdain, “We’re all in danger. I had to come back to warn you all, to help fight” He glances down at his now frightened son and lifts him into his right hip for a soothing hug while Regina blinks in confusion. “What are you talking about? Where is Mari—“ “We can’t talk about it now”, he cuts her off urgently, gesturing with a discreet nod to the boy in his arms. “Listen, I promise I will explain everything later. But we don’t have a lot of time to gather the others and make a plan”. He slides a gentle hand down her arm as if to assure her it’ll be alright despite his ominous warning. Roland wiggles in his grasp and his father sets him on his feet a moment before he bounds off a yard or two and squats down to examine a rock on the pavement. “I’m just so happy to see you, Regina”, Robin cups her cheek in his chilled palm, “didn’t think I would again”. His words rush off his tongue before his lips are pressed to hers, desperate and needy, fueled by the current perils only he knows they face and his all consuming love for her. It is a reunion kiss that can only come from resolutely believing they’d be separated permanently. Regina responds with all the heart she can muster, their lips moving fluidly together as if the last few weeks had not eclipsed. When they finally break for air they are both grinning like fools, foreheads resting together as their breathing falls in sync, and she swears she suddenly feels whole again, as if her arm had been missing and has just now been returned. She lets the feeling wash over her, soaks it in selfishly for a minute because she knows how fleeting this absolute contentment is now. There are still a thousand questions running through her head, a dark cloud churning and billowing over their little town and every life in it, but with Robin’s hand in her own things feel possible. She tightens her grip and they start toward her car, ushering Roland away from his picture in the dirt as they go. They let their hands slip apart to round the car and Robin opens the back so Roland can hop inside excitedly, insisting that he’s mastered belting himself in. Once he’s safely buckled and shut in, Robin pulls his handle but catches Regina’s eyes over the hood. They both have a flurry of emotions hidden in their expressions, but one sticks out above them all and Regina knows this one to be the only true importance in the world. “I love you”, Robin declares, the lines around his eyes wrinkled from the joy on his face. Her chest swells with such happiness that her dark eyes moisten with tears and she doesn’t care that her voice cracks when she finally speaks the words herself. “I love you”. Fin

“Despacito”: Zig fanfic

pairing: Zig x MC

Rating: NC-17

This story is very NSFW. Since Hartfield could be located mostly anywhere, I took the liberty of assigning Zig’s hometown as Las Vegas. It just fit better with the theme of travel, and the general tone I was going for. Feel free to be flexible with the fantasy. ;). I always think of Zig and his “latin lover bad boy” facade when I hear Despacito, and I really wanted to do a fan fic influenced on this very sexy, summery, vacationesque song. Hope you enjoy!

Slowly

I want to breathe your neck slowly

Let me tell you things in your ears

So that you remember when you're not with me

Slowly

I want to strip you off with kisses slowly

Sign the walls of your labrynth

And make your whole body a manuscript

Turn it up turn it up..... turn it up, turn it up

I wanna see you dance

I wanna be your rhythm

I want you to show me

Your favourite places places places Places

Let me surpass your danger zones

To make you scream

And forget your name

Zig took a huge sigh of relief. Fiery red leaves swirled around him, his breath causing them to waltz on their way to the ground. In a few moments he would be in the locker room taking off his uniform for the last time this football season. Each step he took, his lungs burned, and each muscle exhausted by the months of wear and tear of pushing himself. He made it in one piece though: he proved himself to be an asset to the team, made a few friends and earned that scholarship, showing he deserved that second chance. All in all it was a great experience, but with the semester winding down he was looking forward to just being Zig. He was looking forward to there being no one else in the world but him and her.

Izzie.

She came to all of his games with her “Ziggy+Iggy” sign, yelling the loudest out of anyone else in the bleachers. God damn if she wasn’t sex on a stick wearing his jersey number...it took everything to not throw off his helmet and rush the rows to get to her and take her right then and there. As he put on his white t-shirt and jacket, thoughts of her flooded his mind, calming the flow of adrenaline. She was his safe space. Just as soon as the moment came it passed once he slammed that locker door. It shook him back to reality. “Oh God, it is this week!” Zig exclaimed under his breath. Izzie and him talked about this milestone, and game after game passed, but now it was here. She was coming home with him for Thanksgiving to meet his family. He was confident they would love her, but would she love them? Could his family fit into her world?

*****

“Hey baby, what you thinking about?” Izzie smiled at him in the passenger side, flicking away a hair out of his eyes. Zig was grinning and staring into the distance. “I was just thinking about how you and my sister are so alike. You guys are going to get along so great, I bet I will be the third wheel after this trip!”

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so. You are beautiful...funny...smart. They would be blind not to see what I have.” He kissed her on top of her hand, as they pulled into the driveway of his family's’ Las Vegas home.

Within seconds, a small army of children barricaded the couple. “TIO!!!” A boy, almost 8, and a girl, almost 5 screamed at Zig. “COME HERE YOU LITTLE MONSTERS!” He swooped down and gave them an almost suffocatingly strong hug. At the same time, the two children noticed Izzie and she waved back at them, “Hi guys!” Paolo and Yuliana, this is my amor, Izzie” and he gave a jokingly sneering look, “so be nice you two.” The two kids giggled.

Yuliana tried to grab Izzie’s hand to get her attention and whispered, “Are you a princess? You have a dress like my dolly.”

“Nope, just Izzie. I bet you are a princess though! You have such a pretty hair!” Yuliana beamed. Then the girl darted into the house, “MAMA MAMA TIO ZIGGYS FRIEND SAID IM PRETTY!!” Izzie giggled, “Cute kids.” “See, I knew they would love you. No worries.” He pulled her hand and led her inside.

Zig’s mother Maria, was a strong and hardworking woman, who was a maid at several Las Vegas strip hotels. Her face held tired, long lines from years of supporting and leading a family. Her eyes however, held a new sparkle and a new life from her oldest son making a better life for himself. Through his future, it sparked a happiness that softened her visage. She was reborn. As Zig walked into the kitchen for a hug, he saw a new woman: “Mama! You look so good!”

“Aww, thank you! Zig! You are skinnier! Are you eating? Is that football team of yours making you diet?!” She poked and prodded.

“No Mom, I just don’t have you making enough tacos to feed an army!” He playfully joked with her as he picked up a tortilla chip and she slapped it out of his hand, “Ow!”

“That is for dinner!” Marie grew serious and turned to Izzie. A warm smile spread across her face. “This must be Izzie. The woman who saved my son….and stole his heart.” Maria drew the stranger not just into her home, but into her arms. “Oh!” Izzie was shocked at the sign of affection, and had braced herself for a handshake. Izzie was not prepared for what she heard next: “As long as you are with my son, you are mi familia”, Maria whispered, drawing away. “Thank you so much, you have a lovely home and your son is the best guy in the world! You are an amazing woman!” Zig beamed, drew Izzie in and said, “I think we need to get you some of this amazing food!”

******

Laughter bellowed all across the table throughout the day, as salsa music wafted through the air. Plates and plates of food were passed down, and to anyone else, the amount of relatives around and the din would have been claustrophobic. Yet, as Zig and Izzie looked at one another, the world around them became quieter...smaller..until only those two existed. Zig’s Tia or Abuelo would say something, and immediately they would be smacked back to the present, but every so often the magnetism between the lovers would become impossible to ignore, and it was as if they were feeding off each other's love. They were most themselves with one another, and each second their passionate chemistry yearned for them to be alone.

A Latino family cookout rarely lasts only a few hours, but the activity and conversation began to draw to a close once the futbol game started and the dominos were brought out. Izzie gave a huge yawn, but Zig interrupted her: “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now. My family is getting distracted, and I was thinking we could have some time alone for awhile. I would like to show you something.” “Sure.” On their way out after extending goodbyes and adios, Izzie and Zig headed off into the Las Vegas sunset for their surprise.

*****

“I’m really glad you took me here, Zig. I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas but I’ve never had the chance. Thanks.” Izzie breathed, staring at the awe inspiring lights glowing against the sunset and sand, creating a magical, technicolor tapestry.

“No problem, consider it the VIP tour,” he replied, giving his famous smirk, “Besides, since we are only here for a few days, I wanted to show you as much of the city as I could. What better than the panorama view?” They both stared over the ledge, sharing a cigarette. After sexily blowing smoke, he continued: “When I saved money to take my sisters to the movies, we always drove past The Strip to get to the theater. Sometimes my mom would even let me skip school and hang out at the hotel. I’d help fold clothes and stuff, and then we would go for a “lunch break” but my mom would get me the biggest sundae I could find.” Zig’s voice started to crack with emotion, and Izzie placed a supportive hand on his shoulder to let him know to take his time. However, at that point, the words just began to flow out of him: “She never got herself anything though. She just smiled, watching me eat that messy ice cream. I felt so proud that I was helping. I made a promise to myself that I would take care of her, just like I did with my sisters.”

“Oh Zig--” Izzie reached to embrace him, but he pushed against her, with waters building at the corner of his eyes.

“No..no..it’s okay.” He wiped a tear away. “So when I got locked up, my whole world was destroyed. I disappointed my mother, and worst of all, I would never be able to give back to her..to take care of her. My life was going to go nowhere.” Izzie was beginning to cry, her lips quivering. Her strong bad boy slowly unraveling himself to her. “That was, until I met you and you believed I could get that scholarship. When I met you, I began to have a future.” Zig grabbed her hands in his and smiled.

“I saw my future again tonight, Izzie. I saw it with you.” Izzie began to make ugly sobs, dropping her head in her hands. Zig pulled them away though so he could hold her face.

“When I saw you with Yuliana...as you helped my abuela get food…” Zig’s throat tightened with fear but his eyes were filled with love. Finally, he breathed out, “I saw our future. I saw our babies. I saw our life together. Each moment more blissful than the one before it. I knew you were my family.” Izzie was getting emotional. Zig tried to rein it in and get control of the situation, but his heart was overflowing with happiness. “I’m not proposing!” They both giggled. “Way too soon for that! But..” he trailed off and reeled himself back in: “I just need you to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you someday.”

Izzie grabbed Zig and embraced him with her whole body, tears staining his face. She cried out: “Oh Zig! I’m yours forever. How could you not have known that?!” Their kisses were so strong and powerful, so magnetic, their hearts skipped beats as they came up for air. Finally, Zig chuckled, “I’m so glad my family sees you as one of them too.”

Izzie coyly smiled, batted her eyelashes and said, “Well, I was on my best behavior.”

Immediately they began to give each other looks. Sexual tension was building up and slowly simmering throughout the day, and the lovers were tied and wound up, unable to breathe. They were acting good for too long. Zig’s deft, strong fingers slowly ran down her arm, sending a shiver through her body. She was a lit match and he was stoking her flame. “I noticed” Zig panted with desire, “You were a very good girl today.”

“Oh yeah? Who says?” Izzie feigned an attitude as Zig placed slow, feather light kisses all across her shoulders.

“Me, and I don’t think I need your attitude young lady.” He began to run his hands over her nipples through her shirt. Izzie’s eyes closed with joy. Her panties became sticky and moist...nothing turned her on like the cat and mouse game they played. It took everything inside her to keep going and not fall over with sexual desire. “I...can...will...say...whatever...I...want..” she breathed.

“Are you really going to disrespect me like this? Where is this naughtiness coming from?” Zig’s demeanor is turning aggressive, pulling open Izzie’s blouse to expose her breasts. In his eyes, Izzie saw the anger inside of the man, the anger that existed in the moment he beat up his sister’s boyfriend and when anyone crosses him. However, Izzie also saw fiery passion, and both scared her but also aroused her. She met him with renewed confidence.

“I guess I’ve just been a bad girl.” Izzie seductively ran her hands over his shirt, going lower and lower until her fingers grazed over the hardness in his jeans. He held his breath with desire as she teased him.

Zig’s eyes clouded over with a laser like intensity. “If you are going to be naughty and not listen, then maybe you need to be punished!” He took her to the front hood of the car and pushed her to lay down. Izzie squealed with joy and anticipation. In one swift motion Zig pulled his belt off and tied her wrists up above her head. Tightness didn’t matter: he just knew he was going to drive her wild.

“What...are..you..going to do?” Izzie breathlessly asked. “This is your consequence for not listening.” He was totally in control. She was his clay to mold. Zig kneeled and pushed her legs apart with one hand and lifted her dress up with the other. The flimsy white fabric covering her decency was soaked through, wetness glistening across her tanned skin. “Mmm...baby….you are so wet…” Zig murmured with amazement. “You know how you get me….I want you so bad..” Izzie was getting delirious with want.

So as Zig leaned closer to her and made contact with her core, she almost shattered from the pleasure, barely able to hold what shred of control she had left. Zig licked through her panties, teasing her, slowly sucking on her taste. Oh God, what was he doing? Izzie wondered to herself. Where is this going to go? A part of her was scared, and it was as if he could read her mind, because at that exact moment Zig rubbed her leg to reassure her: “Don’t worry baby, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do every step of the way? After all, how else am I going to teach you?” He made a small laugh. “Okay.” She sighed in relief.

Now Zig poked his tongue into her hot pussy, in and out, alternating with slowly rotating his tongue on her clit. Jolts of electricity ran across her skin. “I want you to become a part of me. I can’t wait for your juices to feed me.” He breathed into her skin. Zig flicked and massaged each fold with his tongue, making love passionately to her sex. As each second passed, Izzie felt her core getting hotter, tremors shaking her limbs. Zig stuck two fingers in and massaged her clit, starting slow but progressing to a frenzied paced and dialed back down again. “Mmmmm…”she moaned.” He was taking her higher and higher, it was unreal. She could feel herself about to explode..but not quite. Then, he did something that shocked her. Something that drove her wild. Zig lifted up her hips a bit, tilting her so he could get a better grasp of that sexy ass of hers he loved. He placed kisses until he got closer to there. What the fuck! She exclaimed in her head. Her found her cavern however, and began to suck and eat at her hole like a peach. With his intensity, and his fingers working nimbly in her pussy, she came violently on the hood of his car, shaking and hitting. She came so hard and for so long she thought she entered a new dimension. It was unreal. Her legs were noodles, and it took several seconds to acclimate.

Once Izzie’s breath subsided, Zig continued: “Now you know how you hurt me when you talk back. I think it is time for you make amends.” He stood in front of her, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. She got the message, and Izzie drew a wolfish smile. Here is where she could be in control...she could show her want. “Oh Zig, I’m so sorry.” She gave him puppy dog eyes as she got on her knees. Zig took a sharp breath as Izzie slowly kissed his head, and then his shaft, with playful intention. No matter how many times she did this, he could never get over that she did this for him, loved it and was so fucking good at it. He didn’t deserve it, but he was addicted nonetheless. “Baby, you deserve the best. Let me try harder.” Izzie backed up a few inches to speak, but then brought her mouth back down again, lips fully over him. Slowly her head dipped lower and lower, taking all of him in. Shit! Zig was already tensing up. He overplayed his hand: he thought he would have control in this game. Izzie was playing dirty. She was playing for keeps.

Izzie bobbed up and down, the wet, sucking sound filling the space. She would change the pace, but kept up the veracity and passion. “Damn” Zig kept trying to grab his breath, barely choking out “I’m going to….” Then that is when it happened. Right as he was at his most powerless, she placed a finger in him, massaging all while she grabbed his rock hard ass and sucked him until kingdom come. There was sensation everywhere...this fire building inside him….that was burning him from the inside out….”Shit..shit…” Zig gritted his teeth as he was losing control to the waves of pleasure. Fireworks and stars exploded in his brain as his cock tensed and pulsating, releasing his hotness into her willing mouth. With one last jerk, he hit the hood of his car with his hand and she giggled. When he came back to reality, he muttered, “Not fair.”

As his voice calmed, tension subsiding, he grew serious again: “Now, I think it’s time to teach you exactly how to behave.” In one swift quick movement, he flipped her over, hands on car, pushing her to a downward position. With his left foot he swiped her left foot out, kicking her into a wide, doggy style stance so she could take him in completely. If she wanted to be a bad girl, then she was going to be fucked like a bad girl! With one hand on her back, he took the other and completely ripped her panties off. “Oh!” Izzie exclaimed with shock at his force. “Don’t worry, no one is going to know these are gone..this will be our little secret.” He winked. Zig slowly slid in, feeling the tight wetness around him. This was what heaven felt like. Once he got as far as he could, her love fully taking him in, he pulled her up closer to him. His hand massaging a breast as he pulled her face directly next to his. His breath hot and seductive next to her...it was a toxin that paralyzed her to his will.

He whispered to her, tickling her ear: “Tonight you will know how much I love you.” Their panting was heavy as he slammed against her tight ass. He was taking her to the brink of sanity, and she was addicted to this warming and numbing feeling in between her legs. He continued, “You are never to doubt my love again...I am yours and you are mine…” Bodies so close and tangled that they became as one person. Sweat flowing, hearts syncing, they were united. Slowly then sped up they found the perfect rhythm. Izzie was going crazy: with love for him and because he was so good at this. She had never felt more cared for by a man or more vital to him. Zig was about to lose his balance from feverish ecstasy, but just then he caught himself and got out: “When strangers see you walk, they will know you belong to me. I’m going to mark your walls with a fucking you will never forget.”

“I...can’t..leave you...long enough..to forget..I need you…” Izzie barely panted out. Zig was so fucking turned on by how much she wanted him. He started grinding, pounding, swirling his hips to hit every spot of hers. Nothing would be left untouched. Izzie was drowning in her wetness, the world around her growing smaller and going blacker as she was sent to the precipice. “Now! Now, Daddy!” She screamed with desperation. Izzie needed to come or she thought she might literally die. “Me too, baby” He groaned, grabbing her hair as the intensity flowed through him. Her hand instinctively went to her clit, rubbing it, pressure building and growing from her stomach all through her limbs. She fanned the flames with vigor, as Zig clenched every muscle in his body and yelled, “Fuck Izzie!” Stars brighter than the Las Vegas skyline invaded their vision. Both of them fell in a heap on the car, catching their fall. Sweat covered their foreheads, with Zig pushing her hair back to place some well earned kisses on her forehead.

Zig giggled and asked her jokingly, “So..do you think you learned anything from that?” “Yeah..” she breathed, slowly getting the words out, “I learned I can only be with you.” Blinking, she tried to calm her bated breath and continued: “It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it is with you.” Zig laid his head on her, smiling, as the Las Vegas lights illuminated their beauty, and the sunset gave way to the dark night.

Bulletproof

Bucky Barnes x reader (lil steve x reader too but platonic!!)

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, angst, some more angst with a side of angst

Words: 7.3k (yikes)

All credit goes to Marvel

A/N: im sorry

“Do we have the subjects?” Dr. Erskine asked. Peggy Carter stood straight by his side.

“Yes, we have Steven Grant Rogers and Y/N Y/L/N, Sergeant James Barnes’s wife.” The two of you approached the pods where the experimentations would take place. You and Steve shared a wary look, but you knew that this is what Steve wanted to do, and you promised to take care of him while Bucky was away at war, meaning that if Steve was in on this, so were you. Besides, Dr. Erskine requested a female patient, and your friend was more than happy to recommend you to go through this with him.

There was nothing wrong with you, unlike Steve. You didn’t have any medical issues, but after your mom dying of cancer, this would be taken as a shot at ridding your body of any cancer-carrying genes.

Bucky didn’t know you were doing this. He didn’t even know Steve was doing this. Letters to Bucky would be sent, but seldom was he able to return them. Your husband was busy with the war and all, something like that.

Truth was, he’d have a cow if he found out. You didn’t want to go behind his back, but you trusted Dr. Erskine and Steve. You knew you’d be fine, but Steve’s fate dwindled in your eyes. If the flu hit him, he was practically on his death bed. If this worked, you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore, as much, at least. “Ready?” Peggy asked you. You nodded, letting her lead you into the pod as Howard Stark led Steve into his.

You both received shots of penicillin, and as much as you wanted to make a joke when Steve flinched at his, you knew now was maybe not the best time for your sarcastic banter with him. Sharing once last look with Steve, taking a deep breath, the walls around you closed, encasing you in the pod.

You heard Howard calling out percentages. As the numbers got higher, a fire felt like it was being spread across your skin. You could hear Steve screaming, and you desperately called out to him from inside your confines. As Dr. Erskine was about to halt Steve’s progress, he called out. He told them to keep going.

You winced as the fire continued to burn across you, making each muscle ache with what felt like fatigue, yet you were feeling like you were able to run a marathon the second these damn doors opened.

Howard had reached 90% when the surge of energy became too much for you to contain. Your shins easily broke through the metal cuffs with just the slightest kick, and you swung your legs up and out, the doors of your pod flying off and hitting the wall with a loud boom. You were on the ground, one foot planted to the concrete floor and the other tucked under your body. Your hands were on the ground in front of you, and you watched as with each slight movement of your fingers, the floor crumbled underneath them.

Shortly after, the crowd that had gathered around you dispersed to surround Steve as he nearly fell on his face while stepping out of his. You craned your neck to look at him, and nearly completely crushed the ground underneath you. Steve Rogers, the barely five-foot-tall, barely one hundred pound punk that you had known half your life, now stood at least six-feet-tall and had to weigh at least two hundred pounds. His new muscles heaved with each breath he took and you watched with a smirk as Peggy tried her best not to stare. He was nearly dripping in sweat. You two finally made eye contact, you still on the ground and him being held upright by various doctors, and you nodded once at each other.

As celebratory cheers began to ring out, so did a gunshot. Your eyes snapped over to Steve, in complete panic that he had been the target, but no. He was holding Dr. Erskine, two bullet holes beginning to soak his white lab coat in his own blood as he bled out. He lifted a weak finger to Steve’s chest before his eyes closed.

Steve looked at you. “Go!” You barked out at him. “I’ll take care of this, but for god’s sake, be careful.” He nodded at you before breaking out in a sprint, chasing after the man who had shot the doctor. You rushed over to Dr. Erskine where he laid on the ground as the other doctors administered CPR to him. You knew it was futile, but you grabbed a pair of medical tweezers and dug into his wounds. You could see the bullets, they hadn’t punctured any vital organs, and he was breathing. But with the amount of blood he was losing, he wouldn’t last very long if you didn’t get these bullets out. You grabbed onto one of them, yanking it out. “Stitch this up,” you said to the doctors, who were stunned at what you were doing. “Now! He’s going to die of blood loss if you don’t hurry.” With that, the doctors snapped into action as you got to work on the second bullet. This one was deeper. Deeper meant dangerous; organs could have been damaged with this one. You dove in with the tweezers once more, and carefully felt around with them until you heard them *clink* against the bullet. You put your hand on Dr. Erskine’s stomach to steady yourself as you carefully pulled this one out. You could feel everybody’s eyes on you as you held the last bullet in the air, dropping it to the ground as you exhaled a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

The doctors got to work on stitching up the second wound as Peggy pulled you up by your arm and held you up. Resting against her shoulder, you passed out.

When you woke up, you were in a bed, staring at the ceiling. You recognized it as the bunker Steve had been living in. Turning to your left, Steve sat in a chair, reading a book. You reached your arm out, lightly touching his hand, and he smiled at you. “You’re awake.”

“You’re alive.” He laughed, closing the book and putting it on the nightstand between you. His laughter quieted down, but you lightly smiled at him.

“You saved Dr. Erskine, you know.”

“I know how much he means to you. I promised to protect you, and that means protecting anything or anyone else that holds meaning to you,” he took your hand in his as his gaze dropped to the floor. “Although it doesn’t look like you need my protection anymore. Seems like the other way around now, but don’t tell Bucky,” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and you straightened up in bed, your heart rate beginning to pick up. “Steve?”

“I have some bad news,” your lips parted as he continued. “Bucky’s whole unit. They’re being held by a man named Armin Zola. I don’t know if he’s alive or not, but I promise I’m going to find him. I’m leaving tomorrow.” By the end of his explanation, you had tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t even realize you were crying until Steve gently pulled you into his lap, and you began sobbing into his shoulder.

The next day, with Steve having just left to find his best friend and your husband, you sat in Bucky’s bunker on his bed. Under his bed, he had a black box with two enveloped letters taped to the top. One letter was labeled with your name, and the other was labeled with Steve’s. Knowing most likely what those letters said, you skipped over them, not accepting what they’d imply. James Buchanan Barnes wasn’t dead.

After you lifted the lid of the box, you began pulling out the contents, laying them in front of you. He had pictures of you, pictures of Steve. Pictures of all three of you. Pictures of you and him. Pictures of him and Steve. Pictures of you and Steve, even. He always appreciated how well you got along with Steve, hence why he had made you promise to take good care of him. If he couldn’t make sure the punk didn’t do anything stupid, who else would?

Clearly not you if you had just let him run off to who knows where. What if he didn’t come back either?

Steve had successfully infiltrated the Hydra base. He had found and unleashed the war prisoners, but none of them knew where Bucky was being held.

Currently, he was running down one of the long hallways when a short man with a briefcase popped out of one room. Steve’s brows furrowed as the man took off, and as Steve was ready to give chase to the man, he heard a voice coming from the room. “Sergeant, three, two, five five, seven.” The voice repeated the same phrase over and over again, but Steve couldn’t believe his ears. Those were the beginning numbers to Bucky’s number.

Rushing into the room, relief couldn’t be strong enough to describe what he was feeling when he saw his best friend laying on a table. “Buck… Buck…. It’s me.” Bucky finally looked at Steve.

“Steve,” he smiled. “Steve.”

Back at the camp, you remained sat at Bucky’s bed, flipping through the same photos you had been staring at for nearly a week now. You had refused to leave his bed and Peggy had given up trying to draw you out. Instead, she just began bringing your meals to you and staying with you until you had eaten as much as your stomach could hold. You had become literally sick with worry for not only Bucky, but now Steve.

Even the sudden commotion outside wasn’t enough to draw you out of your trance as you sat in the dark of Bucky’s room, laying on your back and staring up towards the ceiling while flipping through the photos. You could’ve sworn you heard Bucky’s voice, but you were too far gone and you brushed it off as your mind playing games with you. Going insane seemed more likely at this point that Bucky and Steve coming home.

The lights suddenly flicked on and you groaned. “Turn them off.” You said, the bright lights practically blinding you after sitting in darkness for so long. Except the lights didn’t turn off. “Turn them off,” you said, a little more demanding, but the lights remained on and your frustration got the better of you. You shot up out of bed, tossing the pictures aside in a flurry. “I said turn them,” your breath caught in your lungs. You felt your heart racing in your chest as you stared at the brown-haired man standing at the doorway, smirking at you. “Bucky.” You breathed, your voice no more than a whisper.

“What? Didn’t wanna come out and say hi? Gonna make me come to you?” He taunted. He hardly could get another word out before you jumped out of bed, flinging your body at him, hooking your legs around his waist and burying your head in his shoulder. You tried not to squeeze him too hard, you still weren’t sure the extent of your new found strength, but you were sure you might have bruised him, based on the grunt he let out. You pulled back, wincing.

“Sorry.” You shrugged apologetically. Bucky shook his head, using one of his arms to pull your head to his, kissing you with everything he had in him. Your hands came from behind his neck to up the sides of his neck, holding his head in place as you kissed him with equal urgency. He used his foot to kick the door closed behind you two as he walked the two of you back to his bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you. 

His hands went to your hips and goosebumps broke out over your heated skin. Your hands went to his shoulders, feeling his muscles moving with every movement he made. A cough at the door pulled you two apart, and Steve stood, shifting uncomfortable as his cheeks turned bright red. You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. Bucky kissed the tip of your nose, a silent promise for this to be continued later.

You continued to live on base with Bucky, and nobody dared to try and stop you. Every morning, he’d get up at 5 a.m. for more training and drills, and you’d sleep peacefully until he came to get you at 7:30 a.m. You’d spend your days with Peggy, working on a project called S.H.I.E.L.D. The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. She wanted SHIELD to remain a secret, so whenever Bucky or Steve asked what you did during the day, you were both forced to lie to them. Each day had to be a different lie, but keeping SHIELD a secret was crucial. At least until it was secured.

Peggy trained you in fighting, with a gun and hand to hand. For a while, you got away with keeping that a secret too, until Bucky saw the bruises that covered your torso. He nearly interrogated you about it until you broke and told him before he killed whoever did it. “I just don’t wanna worry about somebody attacking me when you’re not around to protect me.” You had explained to him. He nodded once, and had Steve tell Peggy to take it easy on you, which she definitely did not do when she found out you almost risked SHIELD by telling him.

Except this morning, it was 4 a.m. and you and Bucky were awake, holding each other tight to keep warm from the harsh January weather that seeped through the bunkers. Today, Bucky, Steve, and the Howling Commandos were heading off in search of Armin Zola. Bucky had yet to be out on another assignment, and you were having anxiety about him not coming home again. He knew any attempts at talking you down were futile, so he did all he could. He pulled you into his lap, whispering how much he loved you in your ear until your breathing steadied. Your fingers tangled into his left hand. His right hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you flush against him. Your head was rested on his right shoulder and you nuzzled against his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible.

Two hours later, a solemn knock at your door set the reality in for both of you. Bucky’s warm hands cupped your freezing cheeks and he kissed you exactly how he had when he first came home. You kissed him back, committing to memory how his lips felt against yours; how his hands fit against your cheeks so perfectly; his steely blue eyes when he pulled back; the way his voice sounded when he told you he had to go. “I’ll see you again before either of us even know it. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Come home to me.” You pressed your cheek harder against his left hand and he rubbed his thumb against your temple.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Within three days, Steve and the Howling Commandos came back.

Within three days, Steve had sat you down and told you that Bucky wasn’t coming home.

Within three days, your heart had been broken.

Within three days, you were training to fight at least 17 hours a day.

Within three days, you stopped sleeping all together.

Within three days, your resolve to keep Steve safe grew even stronger.

Now you were heading on a month without Bucky. You were in the gym, training with one of the new SHIELD recruits when Dr. Erskine rushed in, grabbing your attention. Your trainee took your distraction as an opportunity and swung their first towards your cheeks, only for you to catch it in your fist. You squeezed their hand and dropped it as you heard all their knuckles crack. They weren’t broken, just bruised. “Mrs. Barnes, we must leave. Captain Rogers is on his way to hijack Red Skull’s plane.” You unwrapped your hands and stepped out of the ring.

“Without me? What a punk.”

Dr. Erskine led you outside where Howard Stark was waiting for you with a car and the keys. He brought you in for a tight hug. “Stay safe, kid,” He handed you a small device with what looked like a map on it, a red dot moved across the screen. “It’s a locator I put on the car that Steve’s in. As long as Steve’s in that car, you’ll know where he is.” You nodded, hugging him again before climbing into the car and peeling off the concrete. 

You followed the red dot on the screen, your speed accelerating in your desperation to catch up to them. I promised Bucky I would keep Steve safe. I promised myself I’d keep Steve safe.

You saw them. Peggy’s hair remaining unnaturally perfect even with the wind blowing, Steve in his suit, and the General, beginning to gain on Red Skull’s jet as the road came to a screeching halt. You pushed your foot harder against the gas until you were side by side with their car. You glanced over at Steve. “Did you really think I’d let you do this without me?”

“It’s too dangerous for you, Y/N. I can’t risk you getting hurt. Or worse.” You were close to the jet now, and Steve stood up, kissing Peggy passionately. You slammed on your breaks, going to stand on the hood of the car, waiting for Steve.

“I promised your best friend I’d protect you no matter what. I don’t care if you’re 5’4 and 95 pounds, or 6’2 and 240 pounds, I vowed to protect you. We’re ending this once and for all, together,” he looked unconvinced as you grabbed hold of one of the metal bars on the end of the jet, lifting yourself up. “For Bucky.” He pursed his lips, and jumped after you. He pulled himself up into the jet and grabbed hold of your arms to yank you up with him.

“Leave the fighting to me. You grab hold of the jet’s controls and try to land us,” you nodded, stalking off to find some place to hide until Steve distracted Red Skull enough, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back to him. “Y/N, we might not make it out of here.” You nodded again, looking him in the eye.

“I know.” You crouched down to the floor, tucking yourself into a hidden corner and taking a deep breath. You watched as Steve carefully padded around the jet, setting his eyes on Red Skull. Your heart pounded in your ears, pretty much blocking out anything the two men were saying to each other. Steve was right; you weren’t going to make it out of this. And you knew that, but you promised to keep Steve safe, and if you couldn’t keep him safe, you would at least go down with him. Besides, you didn’t wanna live in a world without Bucky.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind play memories of you and Bucky over in your head. You remembered meeting him at one of Stark’s Conventions, and him ditching the girls he was with purely to follow you around for the night. You remembered the night he asked you out, him shifting nervously on his feet as he tried to find a coherent sentence that would convey how much he liked you. You remembered him proposing on Christmas, hiding your ring in his stocking to confuse you when you knew that you couldn’t have put it in there when he pulled it out Christmas morning. You remembered your wedding, your oh-so-perfect wedding.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly before getting on your hands and knees and quickly crawling your way to the cock-pit of the jet. You began panicking, but not because one of the men behind you was screaming in agony, you knew it was Red Skull being killed, but because you couldn’t get control of the plane. Steve rushed besides you. “I can’t get control of the plane, we’re going too fast. We’re going to crash into New York.” You switched seats with him so he was piloting the plane, and he pulled a watch out of his pocket, putting it on the dashboard, showing a picture of Peggy.

You heard him radio in to the base. You heard Peggy’s voice. You heard them putting off goodbye, promising they’ll see each other again. But all you could do was stare ahead at your impending death, because the only way you and Steve can save New York was by plunging the two of you into the Arctic. You wished they would say goodbye…

Because you and Bucky never got to say goodbye.

“Peggy?” You spoke up, your voice raspy.

“What?” You were closer and closer to the ocean now, you only had a couple seconds. You grabbed Steve’s hand and he gripped it tight.

“Good luck with SHIELD, you’ll make an amaz-.”

2012

 Steve was on his fourth punching bag of the night, a common thing nowadays after coming out of the ice. There wasn’t a day where you and Bucky weren’t on his mind. They had only pulled him out of the ice, and he couldn’t even tell them to wait, to tell them that there was someone else in that jet- someone who meant the world to him; someone who meant the world to another person who had meant the world to him. “Trouble sleeping?” Nick Fury’s voice boomed through the gym, despite it not even being loud. The way he talked just carried such an air of confidence and assurance. He wasn’t surprised to know Fury was the man in charge.

“I’ve been sleeping for 70 years, sir. I think I’ve had my fill.” He took some more swings at bag #4.

“Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world.”

“I went under, the world was at war. I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.”

“And what did you lose, Captain?” Nick asked, as Steve sat down on a bench and began unwrapping his hands. He went to his gym bag and pulled out a photo, handing it to Nick for him to see.

“A whole lot. But you lost her. She was in that plane with me. She was given the super soldier serum with me. Y/N Barnes. Sergeant James Barnes’s wife. Or as I know her, Y/N Y/L/N. If you pulled me out and I’m alive, there’s an even greater chance she’s alive too,” he stepped closer to Fury until they were face to face. “So if you want me for the Avengers Initiative, you have to find her first.”

2014

 Sometimes, you hated Steve for having you pulled out of the ice. This world sucked. Still fighting HYRDA nearly 70 years later? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding. Steve was now a part of the “Avengers”, a group made up of two highly trained assassins, a literal god, the fucking hulk, a billionaire in a metal suit, and now a 98 year old super-soldier who hardly knows how to work a cellphone.

You weren’t a part of the Avengers. Unlike Steve, you were tired of fighting. You had made it clear that if Steve was going on a mission with no back-up, you were going with him. That was the only time you would willingly fight. Despite him always complaining that he didn’t need you to protect him anymore, your time in the ice had only made you more stubborn about it.

There were times, however, when he specifically reached out for your help, which is why you were now sitting in a car with him, one of the highly trained assassins, one of Steve’s new friends- Sam Wilson-, and Agent Jasper Sitwell, a HYDRA operative.

Sam was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat, and you were squished in the middle between Natasha and Sitwell. Sitwell was going off about something, who knows, you weren’t really listening.

Until a metal arm shot through your window and threw Sitwell from the car. Sam hit the brakes, sending whoever the fuck that was off the car. The man landed gracefully on a knee about thirty feet in front of your car, but another car slammed into the back of your car, pushing you forward towards him. He jumped onto the car’s hood before punching the metal arm through the windshield and ripping out the steering wheel.

Natasha picked up a gun from the floor and fired shots through the hood of the car, but the man was quick and he jumped onto the car behind you. Natasha climbed to the front, sitting across Steve and Sam. Sam was losing control of the car and Steve looked at you, almost apologetically before hitting his shield against your door, knocking it and you out of the car and onto the awfully unforgiving pavement. Steve knocked out his door next, crashing to the ground with Natasha and Sam tucked to his sides. He rushed to you, pulling you up and dusting you off. You rolled your eyes, shoving his hands off you, insisting you were fine. “Who, or should I say what, is that?”

“He’s called the Winter Soldier, HYDRA’s greatest asset. I’ll explain later. Get a gun, hide, and protect yourself.”

“Captain’s orders?” You asked sarcastically. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at you with an impatient look. You rolled your eyes again at him before giving him a smile. He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead, which has become his way of saying “thanks for getting your ass kicked with me, you’re a great friend”. He walked off, shield held high in front of his body. He pulled Natasha to his side, but quickly pushed her away when the Winter Soldier shot a grenade at his shield. It exploded, and Steve flew off the highway and straight through the windows of a bus, which then t-boned another truck. You wanted to call out for Steve, to make sure he was still alive, but the way the soldier was still firing off shots at the bus, he couldn’t have been.

An agent was coming up beside you, and you probably wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for that damn super soldier serum that made everything so loud. You spun around, grabbing the barrel of the gun and shoving it back. The butt of it hit him square between the eyes, disorienting him enough for you to grab the gun from him and shoot him. Two to the heart, one to the head. Just like Peggy taught you.

You had hoped the sound of your gunshot wasn’t enough to divert the Soldier’s attention towards you, but as he spun you around and grabbed you by your throat- with the metal arm- and pinned you to the side of the jeep that had hit you earlier, you were proved otherwise. Your hands instinctively shot up to grip his metal hand and you swung your legs up and out to push against his chest. He stumbled backwards, but his grip on your throat tightened to keep you from escaping his hold. You gasped for air, beginning to lose more oxygen.

As if it happened in slow motion, you watched a bullet hit the arm that was restricting your airways. You both slowly turned your head towards where the hit came from, and Sam had his gun trained on the Soldier. His eyes seemed to train on Sam, and his metal hand flung you back, throwing you off the highway and onto the pavement below as his anger went towards Sam.

You groaned as you nearly pealed yourself off the ground. You had barely started running to fight off the other agents fighting Steve when the Soldier jumped from the highway, landing gracefully on the car next to you. He was faster than you, easily grabbing you again and pulling a knife from his vest. As his hand shot out to slice at your torso, you grabbed his wrist, pinning it behind him between his shoulder blades.

He fell to his knees, letting out a strangled growl. You called out for Steve, needing backup. Just as Steve dropped an agent to the ground, diverting his attention to you, the Soldier pulled a gun on you. He bent forward, flipping you over his back. You landed on your back and he stood up, his heavy boot pressing against your knee cap as he fired off…

One shot…

Two shots…

Three shots…

Steve tackled him to the ground before he could fire the fourth shot and Sam, who had just joined the rest of you down on the street, hurriedly pulled your body into his. Your head rested in his lap, his knees bent as he checked you for injuries. Your hand reached up to where you had been shot, but all your fingers touched was the smooth, unbroken skin on your shoulder. There was no blood. “Sam.”

“You’re not bleeding. The bullet didn’t even enter your body.” You looked to the side of you, three bullets laid on the ground next to you, the front ends bashed in.

“Huh.” You stood up, running back to where the Soldier had Steve pinned to a van, a knife sliding next to his head as the Soldier dug it deep into the side of the car. You threw yourself at the Soldier, wrapping your legs around his throat and squeezing tight with your thighs.

“Y/N! Stand down! You’ll lose too much blood!” Steve barked at you, still throwing punches at the soldier.

“You don’t see me bleeding, do you?” Steve froze momentarily, checking your body to see where he could’ve sworn you were shot multiple times, but all he saw were deep purple marks forming on your shoulder. “I have a hunch, and if I’m right about it, I should be able to do this.” You reached over the Soldier’s shoulders as he continued thrusting his knife at Steve. You grabbed onto the blade, and although it stung, it didn’t break your skin. With your legs restricting the Soldier’s airways, he released the knife enough for you to toss it away.

As he dropped to the ground, you fell with him, and he laid unconscious between your legs. You rolled over and onto your hands and knees as you ripped his mask and goggles off.

Big.

Mistake.

Steve saw it with you. Your heart dropped in your stomach. You, too, felt yourself about to collapse besides him. A million memories hit you at once. The Expo. The proposal. The wedding. The army. The Howling Commandos. The train that Steve watched him fall to his death from. The month you spent grieving over him, only to lead to what was supposed to be your tragic ending as well. Your hand reached out slowly, gently cupping his cheek, tracing your thumb over his lips as you sucked in a harsh breath. Two fingers slid down to his pulse point, and a tear slipped down your cheek as you felt him alive. He had a heartbeat. Your arm continued to slide down, picking up his left arm that was now a metal shell. “Oh, Bucky, what have they done to you?” You whispered, bringing it up to press your cheek against it, letting out a sob when it still fit against you perfectly.

Your mind never left Bucky. Even after being arrested by “SHIELD”. Even after Maria Hill knocking out the other two agents and delivering you to Nick Fury, who was also still alive after being thought to be dead, of course. You faintly listened in as Nick, Sam, Steve, and Nat talked about what had happened to you.

You absentmindedly drifted your fingers up to your shoulders, where there was no other wound than a couple ugly bruises. No, the only thing that hurt was the guilt that you had almost killed your own husband, and the sadness that he had blatantly tried to kill you. Did he even remember you? How was he even alive, let alone still looking young? Would he ever remember you? Would he ever remember Steve? Your hand slid up to cup your cheek, remembering the feeling of your heart breaking at the contact that you hadn’t ever anticipated, but missed every day. “We need to try. She might be able to help us stop him.” Your ears perked up at what Sam said.

“Try what?” Steve dropped his head, looking down at his feet and pressing his lips firm together before looking at you again.

“Sam thinks it’s a good idea to see what your body can and can’t handle. We need to know what could hurt you and what can’t.” You gave them an appalled glare.

“Why? So you know how to kill me? Are you fucking insane?” You stood up from your chair, throwing it across the room as you stormed out. Steve quickly followed after and grabbed you by your elbow. You instinctively swung your arm back, aiming to hit him in the jaw, but he caught it.

“Y/N, doll, you need to hear me out. You know I would never intentionally hurt you.”

“You were literally just talking about shooting me for shits and giggles.”

“Not for that. Zola’s algorithm is in place and it’s about to kill a lot of good people unless we can replace some of the chips in the system. If you’re really bulletproof, we’re going to need you to distract Bucky.”

“Steve, as much as I wish it was, that’s not Bucky. Bucky wouldn’t shoot at either of us and I think it’s safe to say he had no remorse about the three bullets he attempted to land in me,” you sighed darkly, groaning. “How is a person being virtually bullet-proof even possible?”

“The serum enhanced me to my full potential and peak health. You were already at your peak health. Maybe it just made you and your skin stronger.”

“Strong isn’t strong enough here. Sam saw Bucky pin me up against a wall using one arm, lifting me off the ground and I could hardly make him stumble. I’m no match against him.”

“You’re enough of a match to keep him busy for me.”

Three hours later, you had your arms and legs pinned to a wall. You were attached to all sorts of different wires and four bags of your blood type were at the ready, in the event that a bullet did pierce you. A team of doctors and surgeons were on standby. Sam, Steve, Natasha, Maria, and Nick watched from behind a two way mirror. A marksman geared up in front of you, an assault rifle at the ready, when you ordered the experiment to stop. Steve and Natasha shared a look, and he entered the room.

He was at your side in seconds. “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop them?” You looked at him, giving him a serious look that told him you weren’t fucking around.

“Either you shoot me, or I’m out.”

You were Steve’s best friend. You had been since the night Steve told you Bucky’s team got taken. Nothing could ever break the amount of trust you two held…

Which is why he apologized profusely at every shot he took at you. You’d wince at the contact, Steve would rattle out an apology, and you’d roll your eyes, ordering him to take another shot. Your head and your heart were off limits, just in case. They were also off limits because you and Steve knew that Bucky wasn’t aiming to kill. He’d shoot you somewhere that wouldn’t kill you, then he’d finish you off by hand.

After shot 58, the doctor announced the end of the experiment, and Steve and Maria rushed to your side to drop you from your shackles as you groaned from the tension in your muscles. “How do you feel?” Natasha asked, coming to your side and helping you stand upright.

“Like I should be shooting Steve for a change and see how he like it.” You smirked at Steve and he gasped, putting his hands on his hips.

“You were the one that insisted that I shoot you. Besides, you’re not bleeding. You’re just bruised.” You reached your hand out, grabbing him by the back of his neck to pull him closer to you so you could whisper in his ear.

“You know, if Buck ever does remember us, I’m telling him you shot me.”

That night, you sat on your bed in your apartment, pulling out that same black box that Bucky kept under his bed back at the bunker. You flipped through the pictures again, trying your best not to remember the last time you did this, when Bucky turned on your lights until you became so frustrated that you shot out of bed, only to see him standing there wearing your favorite green henley and the smirk that made you fall for him in the first place. You exhaled harshly, putting the photo on your nightstand, leaning it against your lamp. Sleep was pointless, but you had a big day tomorrow.

“Bucky’s alive,” you murmured, playing with the orange ‘visitors’ band on your wrist. You glanced up at Peggy, her eyes urging you to go on. “He’s alive, but it’s not… him. He nearly killed me on a bridge the other day,” you pulled the collar of your shirt down, exposing your shoulder. “He shot at me three times, nearly choked me to death. He didn’t even remember me.”

“Are you sure it was him? Barnes is older than me, he’s gotta be worse off than I am.” She coughed and you handed her a cup of water, putting the straw to her lips.

“It couldn’t not be him. HYDRA must have gotten to him after he fell off that train. Probably put him in an ice box or something like what happened to me and Steve. They call him the “Winter Soldier”. His left arm’s been replaced with metal,” you paused as you set her cup back onto the table. “Did you know about me being bulletproofed?”

“Doctor Erskine warned me there might be a possibility. He didn’t want me to tell you, in fear you’d go out and test its capabilities,” You nodded, deciding to pass on the fact that the love of her life had shot you 58 times just for that exact reason. “There’s something else bothering you.” You sighed, standing up and placing a kiss on her forehead, grabbing her hands in yours.

“Yeah, I might have to kill my husband today.”

“Are you ready for this?” Steve asked. You stood behind him, gun and knives at the ready.

“As ready as I’ll ever be to fight my un-naturally strong husband with a metal arm who just happens to have no idea who I am anymore.”

“That’s the spirit,” Your breath caught in your throat as Steve’s entire posture stiffened. You didn’t even have to look to know that the Winter Soldier stood in front of him. “People are going to die, Buck,” he paused, taking a breath. “I can’t let that happen.” Bucky remained silent, unmoving. “Y/N, you’re up.” He flung his shield at Bucky, making him fall off balance long enough for you to lunge at him.

Your legs went around his throat again, and you crossed your thighs behind his head. His hands went to your hips, trying to throw you off of him, but you weren’t letting go. He realized this, and he sent the both of you flying down from the bridge and onto the glass below you. He landed on top of you, and his metal fist wrapped around your throat. “Bucky, look at me. Please,” His eyes narrowed and his grip on you got tighter. “Please.”

You gripped his wrist around you and pulled it off of you before turning over so you were on top of him. You put your knees on his arms, keeping him from grabbing you again. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” He winced, trying to pry you off of him. “You were born March 10, 1917,” your sentences began to run together as you realized that he wasn’t going to stay pinned down for long. You put your hands on each side of his face, holding him steady and forcing him to look at you. “We met the summer of 1935. We got married two years later, before you went off to war. You know me, you know my name.” He shouted out, using his legs to pull himself up, flinging you across the room in the process.

You landed on a knee, and charged at him as he was beginning to steady himself. He pulled a gun from his holster and shot at you, but quickly threw it aside when he realized that you were getting closer, and you weren’t slowing down. He caught your fist as you swung it at his jaw and he pulled you into him, wrapping his arm around your throat. “You… know…me…” You gasped, reaching behind you to grab a knife from the holster around your waist.

“You’re my mission.” He said, tightening his grip on you.

“I’m your wife!” You plunged the knife into his thigh. He yelled out in pain as you took the knife out of his thigh. You straddled him once more, getting ready to do it again when you heard Steve’s voice ring through the comm unit in your ear.

“Y/N, it’s done. We’re about to go down. Nick and Natasha have a helicopter coming around. Where are you?” Bucky looked at you with an indescribable look. Flashes of fear and pain and panic flicked through them all at once.

“Steve, you need to get on that helicopter without me. I got Bucky. I’ll keep him safe.” You took the comm out of your ear, tossing it aside. Bucky’s chest heaved with every breath he took, but he took the opportunity to flip you over so his body covered yours, right before a large piece of debris fell from the roof of the helicarrier.

“Who are you?” He growled. You reached up, shoving the piece of debris aside and off his back.

“I’m your wife. You already know my name. I know you do,” you carefully reached your hand to his cheek, hardly touching him. When he didn’t give any reaction, you placed it on his skin. “Think, Bucky. Quickly, before we both die.”

“You don’t care if I die.” Bucky said. Debris began falling all over, and an especially large piece fell behind your head, shattering the glass behind you. If anything landed on the panel that your bodies were sprawled out on, you were dead.

“Didn’t you just hear me tell someone I’d keep you safe? I almost lost you twice before this. One of those times being the one that made you forget me; forget Steve; forget the life we had almost built for ourselves.” You didn’t even realize you were crying until Bucky’s eyes seemed to follow a tear that trailed down your cheek and onto your neck. “Please, Bucky.” You sobbed quietly. His eyes went wide, staring at you down in what could have been mistaken as horror.

Memories flashed in his head far too quickly for his liking, but each memory held the same face until they all fused together to one girl, laughing as her hair blew behind her in the wind. Another man leaned down, pressing his lips to hers as her hand slid to take place on his cheek. A diamond ring was on her ring finger- a solitaire diamond, with a tiny heart engraved into the band next to it.

Bucky gently pulled your hand from his cheek, holding it before him as he stared at the ring on your left hand- a solitaire diamond with a little heart engraved next to it.

“Y/N.”